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  • Current IC Month: 7月 YE 42 (through October 11, 2020)

RP: YSS Kaiyō Post-Mission Fourteen: Paint it Black

SirSkully

FM of Neshaten
Game Master
RP Date
ye 40
RP Location
YSS Kaiyo-ii
A few motes of steam trailed from Wyatt's collar and the wrists of his Rikugun jacket as the Minkan emerged freshly shaved and showered after the mission, a Neko passing by looked up from the datapad she had been tapping away at and gave a passing shrug at the man's fledgling mustache he had decided to give a shot - non-commissioned officers needed to look a certain way after all and his scruffy stubble didn't conform to those ways.

The shower may have only been brief but Wyatt was already missing the weight of his wrist-mounted hand cannons, so he moved across the hall to his room and strapped them on - the familiar feeling of padded metal tightening around his forearms set the Minkan's mind at ease as he picked a datapad off of the desk and began typing up his mission report. Not much progress was made, his mind was lingering elsewhere to just to re-focus himself Wyatt decided to get it out of the way.

Wyatt Alder Just Now
>Sir, I was wondering if I could request an audience with you briefly? I just have a few questions that hopefully won't take up too much of your time.

Knock, knock, came from the door of his room a moment later to Wyatt's surprise but he moved toward it curiously. As the orange-haired man opened the door he found that it was indeed Candon, whom he'd just messaged. The uncanny timing was hardly superstitious in nature. "I was just passing through to the dojo, Alder-heisho. Would you care to join me or did you have something else in mind?"

"Howard-Suits Heisho, sir," Wyatt spoke out of disbelief at the coincidental timing as he gave a low bow to the intelligence specialist of equal-rank, it was more so to the black panel he wore however. "I see no harm in it, nor do I have a better idea," the copper-haired Minkan spoke after rising up from the bow.

It was only as Wyatt bowed that Candon would realize his failure to uphold his own customs practice from childhood onward.
"Have I really been away so long as to forget my own culture?" he asked himself, reflecting on the time he'd invested into Wester space. It was too late now, he would have to make up for it later.

As they headed into the passageway Candon took a moment to mentally review his fellow Heisho's dossier, a habit as instinctual as breathing to him. Also a good way to start a conversation. "I hear you enjoy using bladed weapons, where did you receive your training?"

Wyatt shut and locked the door behind himself as they began the short journey to the dojo, giving a small nod to begin the answer given, "Bladed, blunt both have taken a bit of a liking to me - I was trained at Fort Hajime when I was Recon and then later at Black Sands when I changed occupation and joined this ship, yourself?" the knife-eared Minkan thought he might as well ask, assuming his own security clearance would either not be high enough or would reveal nothing but lines of black ink if he tried to look at the other Minkan's information.

"A mix of preprogrammed training and OJT. I started life as a sniper before the first invasion, volunteered for high-risk missions and still not allowed to talk about for 80-something years and retired after the war. I worked security for Origin Industries after that on Sunrise Station and did some things during the second invasion," He recounted, glossing over the worst parts of his life, "Eventually I moved back to Yamatai Prime and reenlisted as an engineer but SAINT thought that I looked better in black... I learned how to beat people with sharp things along the way."

It wouldn't take long before they reached the dojo. The two men would find the room empty and quiet, perfect for the sparring that would soon commence.

"Violence is a curious thing, is it not?" Candon asked with rhetoric, "it's avoided at all costs and yet there is no better way to truly understand your fellow duelist..." The black paneled shirt would slide awkwardly off of Candon's musculature as he prepared himself for the exchange to come.
"Shall we proceed with weapons or settle this like men?" he asked with just the slightest hint of sarcasm as he casually wrapped his knuckles with boxing tape.

"It's true, you can learn a lot about someone by the way they fight - the real person behind whatever facade they put up," Wyatt mused in response as he began removing the heavy metal gauntlets from his hands, a certain heft could be felt from across the room with the way they caused the material of a bench to depress as the ginger-haired Minkan bared his own torso - faintly olive-hued like the rest of his body and certainly physically-gifted as he moved to wrap up his own fists.

"No need to overcomplicate things, simple is good - in addition it might help with the questions I had, but they can wait," Wyatt continued as his hands balled up into fists in front of his face, one foot moving back while the other moved forward.

Candon nodded as he took his own stance, leaning forward slightly with his fists up leading with his left foot as he bent his right knee.
"Don't hold back," Candon instructed, "anything goes but lethals. Let's begin."

Candon initiated with a half-committed straight punch from his left hand toward Wyatt's face, reserving his right for the counterattack that would surely follow.

Being a half-assed swing it wasn't too hard for Wyatt to move his right arm to intercept the attack, deciding to follow it up not with a punch but rather an inertia-assisted knee that was brought up swiftly toward Candon's groin. He was told to go for anything short of killing the man afterall.

The moment the knee moved Candon knew two things. The first, this was going to hurt and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to avoid the unexpected assault on his manhood. He could always use his conditioning package to nullify the pain in his injured package but where's the sport in that? The second thing he realized was that he was fully committed to this attack. He was open.

Candon 'threw himself on his sword' as he leapt into the attack with all the ferocity of a man about to have his nuts smashed in as he threw a savage inertially boosted right-hook into Wyatt's solar plexus.
Pain like a gunshot ripped through Candon's gut straight into his brain and from there touched every fiber of his body as a muffled cry escaped from his mouth.

It had been a risky move, sure - putting your body closer to your opponent's to try and clutch at an opportunity to cause some major damage always had the risk of being a bad idea. Unfortunately for Wyatt, his assumption about Candon having as much bite as he did bark was correct, his pearly whites gritted as the fist slammed into his lower abdomen as a pain-filled hiss that was followed with a light spray of spittle left his maw - though the copper haired Minkan's pained grunt had a faint smile that shone through the pain as his knee connected with the intended target, feeling the sensitive flesh compress under his kneecap.

Wyatt took the applied force that pushed his torso backward and turned slightly, throwing his left hand into an intertially-charged hook toward Candon's chin with a flick of his foot that came almost by instinct. However Candon too had years worth of instinct built from fighting the much stronger Neko soldiers of Yamatai and knew to return to the defensive. Throwing up his right arm to cover the side of his head he braced for he incoming blow, stepping his left foot back. He knew well that he couldn't let up the pressure. With tears still in his eyes he made another quick left Jab for Wyatt's face.

Despite the technology that allowed soldiers to store the information in their brain digitally there was still a physical medium suspended in their skulls that was just as prone to being knocked around as a regular non-synthetic brain, so as Candon's fist connected with his jaw Wyatt knew better than to try and go against it so instead fell with it. Forcing himself to continue fighting through the slight fogginess in his head as he tried to grip onto the black-panel's shoulder or anything he might gain purchase on and go with the momentum, bending his right knee as the left leg shot out toward Candon's right shin with a powerful kick that immediately brought him to his knee.

The spook saw the opportunity to throw himself onto his opponent using his own innate gravitational influence to pin the enemy to the floor with both hands around the neck but there was this lingering pain that would have made it dreadfully uncomfortable and a the concern that the opponent may resort to biting made it seem like a good stopping point.

"I need a minute," Candon announced as he stood back up carefully, offering a hand to Wyatt, "you know that was wrong on so many levels."

A small smirk briefly graced Wyatt's mouth as he waved away the hand and floated himself upright, one hand moving to rest against his tender lower-gut as the coppery Minkan spoke to the black-panel, "It was a cheap move, I'll admit that - you did say anything but lethals was okay though..."

Candon shrugged with a sideways nod. "It still tells me a bit about you," he claimed as he took a chair by the wall, "You're the type that values victory over ethics. It's not a real problem when you win the war but it definitely doesn't bode well if we lose."

"I suppose that's correct," Wyatt began replying with a few small nods before continuing. "To a degree, believe me I'm not about to go bombing civilians needlessly - I may be a certain way about some things but I'm no psychopath nor am I a terrorist," he continued before moving to slip back into the white undershirt of his uniform.

"Which leads me to my initial reason for contacting you, those questions - if you're willing to answer them after that."

"Well, running away isn't really an option anymore," Candon joked, "I'll answer what I can."

"Thank you, sorry about the knee to your groin though," Wyatt spoke as he moved over to a fridge that was tucked away in the corner and retrieved an ice pack, tossing it across to Candon as he began stalking back toward the black-panel. "I was wondering if, given recent events alongside the history on my file, if you'd consider putting your name onto a document as a recommendation if I were to put in a retraining request to try for a black panel - I understand this may be a bit of a long-shot considering you hardly know me but you've seen a taste of what I can do so I thought it worth the risk of denial," the Marksman asked as he sat down on his haunches in front of the other Minkan and waited, heart rate climbing with anticipation.

Candon put a hand to his chin, trying to think of the best way to go about this request. "You know, there's more to it than just combat. Any riflecat can brawl, but SAINT... that's a whole different league," he cautioned, "I assume that you have already read through the training packets so- why do you want to join SAINT?"

Wyatt nodded s he took a second to think it over, the best and most truthful reason he could give - the Marksman took a deep breath in with his eyes closed before the amber orbs opened once more and he began. "For the record I would like to state that I'm not one to blow my own horn nor am I the kind of person looking for a banquet to be held in my name, I do what needs to be done and then move on to the next issue - that being said I do have a knack for combat of both the lethal and non lethal varieties but I'm capable of filling most roles in a ship's crew that aren't limited to being a war machine. I..." the copper-haired Minkan's voice trailed off as he took a short moment to think before continuing.

"I want to do more good than simply storming a ship to leave bloodied hallways in my wake, I'll admit I may not be the most socially-gifted individual and I have my Father to blame for that gift but under Shosa Eden's advice that has slowly begun to change," Wyatt shook his head, he was getting off topic.

"I want to do any and everything I can to assure the continuation of the Empire, and I feel like I am being limited by this infantry panel - so either I go back to hiding in the mud with recon or I try for a black panel, I hope that answers your questions, Candon-heisho."

"Not really, though the questions I want to answer are not necessarily the ones that I am asking you," He responded, "if doing more for Yamatai is what you seek your rank and corp will not help you do this. Every single soldier that share your ideal along with the notion that SAINT service would satisfy their notion to be important to the Empire washed out before INDOC. Your biggest handicap will be the fact that you've never truly seen the bureaucracy of our laws prevent you from serving to your fullest. As you are you will assuredly fail... But, if you give me a month to train you I will make you prepared for SAINT and more. It will be the hardest thing you will ever experience but you will be ready."
Candon cracked a devious grin, "Do you dare to become Hell-proofed?"

"Willing and dare I say eager, sir," Wyatt replied with not a hint of hesitation nor doubt in his voice, it wasn't simply jumping at the chance - he had listened to every little piece of information given to him very attentively, his answers were wrong and he accepted that but this would give him the tools to not make that same mistake again. The Minkan was ready for his eyes to be opened to the hidden side of the empire, where the real work happened.

There was little reason to assume the whole 'Hell-proofed' thing was an exaggeration, it was going to hurt - he had little doubt that the best of the best were dragged through the worst on their way there, but Wyatt was ready to see if he could make the cut of the black panel.
 
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