Log:Flygirls vs. Groundpounders, Round One
An interservice rivalry grows. It sparks a round of melee between Fuze and Booker.
OOC Date: January 6, 2015
Location: RSD Finalizer
Participants: Booker, Fuze
FZ-4792 has been shooting off her mouth about the superiority of the TIE fighter pilots after the recent victories on Serenno. Phrases like "we /own/ the air", and "yeah, those groundpounders need us to clear the way for them" are probably starting to jar. Anyway, today finds her in the gym, clad in lycra-like shorts and a sports bra and training shoes, working on her bench presses. She's not pressing very much. Forty pounds, if that, and it's an effort.
Stormtrooper Country is the place to be right now. This all boils down the fact that a squadron or two from Elsewhere, Finalizer have decided to commandeer the gymnasium for their physical training rather than share, or simply appropriate other facilities: somewhere else. It's a great idea at the time on paper, for a specific group of people, known as pilots, but it's becoming an issue overall when put into practice considering stormtroopers love the gym. It's almost bred into them. BK-8642 simply happens to be lifting an assortment of weights when some personnel in the background butt their proverbial, verbal, and nearly their physical heads. A stocky Lieutenant calling out a shorter, female Corporal. Booker, meanwhile, is in a standard set of shirt and shorts, trainers, and sweat. From curling a weighted bar up to his chest, he lowers it to where it rests across his front and glances sidelong at the nearby FZ-4792. "What was that you just said?"
"I said some Stormtroopers couldn't find your ass with both hands and a map," Fuze grunts, "unless we flygirls light the path for you." The weights rattle as she lets them down with less finesse than usual; she's tiring.
"That's funny." However, Booker doesn't seem especially enthusiastic about things and he clearly isn't laughing. Rivalries are rivalries and it comes with the territory. Carefully, he walks the straight bar over to its rack's position and sets it down. "Now I know what you flygirls use for birth control," he reaches up to comb fingers through his hair, "Your personalities."
That causes Fuze to sit up on the bench and glare at Booker. "Yeah? Well, you got nothing to worry about on that score, groundpounder. Go arrest some civilians or something." Less than snappy comeback, one-nil up to the Stormtroopers most likely. She reaches for her towel to towel off the sweat on the bench and bars, her eyes smoldering with crankiness.
Somewhere in the background, at least the incoming brawl is postponed by smarter sorts dragging away the offending parties. In the foreground of things, where Booker is sedately staring back at Fuze, things appear to be heating up. And Booker doesn't seem to mind. "That gives me more time to worry about whether or not you know how to use that or not?" He nods at the bench, the bar, the weights, and folds his arms over his chest. "Shouldn't you be out with the clouds since it's impossible to collide with the sky, let alone space? That sounds more your speed. Can leave the physical things to people like me."
Z-4792 stands abruptly, tossing her towel down and getting up in Booker's face. "You telling me I can't do physical?" she demands. "Me and my flyboys and girls can take apart any of you Stormtroopers, in the cockpit or out of it," she boasts. Rashly. She lifts a hand and shoves Booker in the chest, a gentle shove but making a point. "Any time, groundpounder, anytime anywhere. What's the matter, afraid to spar with a girl?" Another shove.
For what it's worth, BK-8642 stands in place and raises an eyebrow down at the approaching woman. She's intense. He's smug. The both of them are confident and on some level upset but then there are shoves involved. Someone calls out in the background and more eyes are directing themselves toward the two of them. Booker snorts. "Right here." He steps closer, eliminating the distance between the two of them after her shove makes him take a step back. "Right now." Another step means he's pushing back with a full body shove. "Me- you- and anyone else you want can try me."
Maybe without the body shove Fuze might have walked away. But there are people watching, and she's shoved backwards hard enough to make her give ground, indeed to stagger backwards. Her cheeks flush at the humiliation, and her gaze darkens. "I can take you on my own," she snarls. She gestures to the ring. "Get ready for an ass-kicking." She doesn't know how true that is. She turns, walking swiftly to the sparring ring, shrugging off the short female flygirl mentioned earlier who clearly wants to tag-team with her. "No, he's mine," she says curtly, accepting a water and splashing a little into her mouth. Only then does she look back for Booker.
"You sure about that?" counters Booker, but he's not going to really interrupt the smaller female. Instead, he takes a step back as she gestures off toward the side of things, the mats and ring and then he's smiling. There's no malice in this one. It's pure and good and confident, amused at worse. He unfolds his arms and takes his time in walking after Fuze. In the meantime, a handful of troopers call out to him or question the events or head elsewhere to grab more people. This is turning into something bigger than just the two of BK-8642 and FZ-4792. The smile disappears by the time she looks back at him but he is there nonetheless, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing towards her in his moment of mock stretching. "I can tie my hands behind my back, if you want."
"If you're into bondage fantasies, you're gonna be sadly disappointed," Fuze replies tersely. "You're gonna be a big baby and want the gloves next, aren't you?" She glances contemptuously at the big boxing gloves as she flexes her fingers in her weightlifters' gloves.
Booker drops his hand back down to his side, flowing casually into a helpless shrug. "I'm just trying to help you out." That does happen to be two handicaps that he has already offered and she has declined twice, and briefly the Stormtrooper debates offering a third. He looks thoughtful. That doesn't stop him from charging forward with his hands coming up into a proper fighter's stance. As sudden as it is, he doesn't shove a lot of power behind his straight jab for Fuze's head. Someone yells, a woman. Followed by a cacophony of people-voices.
Combat> BK-8642's attack MISSES FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (-4)
Dodging the jab (but only just), Fuze jerks her head quickly out of the way but keeps moving into the charging Booker. "Is that the best you can do?" she taunts, and at the last minute she brings her knee up between his legs, driving her leg up with all the force she can muster.
<Combat> FZ-4792's attack MISSES BK-8642 at a 100 difficulty. (-34)
Booker grunts under his breath, either from the effort of punching after Fuze's face or because he's replying to her taunting question. It is more than likely a bit of both combined, and he is busying himself with pivoting in place to avoid feeling a knee between his legs. He extends his opposite hand out this time for a cross. At least this time he doesn't readily aim for her head.
<Combat> BK-8642's attack MISSES FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (-6)
Fuze dances back. She's quick, you have to give her that, but if one of Booker's sledgehammer jabs or crosses lands...well, it's anyone's guess. The flygirls and boys are cheering and whooping, "Go Fuze!" "Go on, Squadron Leader!" "Nine-two! Nine-two!" and that sort of thing. Then, dancing forwards as Book's cross misses, she unleashes a one-two combination at his face. Not the face!
<Combat> FZ-4792's attack MISSES BK-8642 at a 100 difficulty. (-71)
"Get her, forty-two! She can't take you!" Someone else is yelling about the Corps in general, another is antagonizing a flyboy next to them. Booker is assaulted by the many yells here and there. He remains focused on Fuze though as she continues bouncing to and fro, quick and nimble, and now moving onto the offensive. He holds his ground and shifts his weight to flank her right. His right arm, held in front of his face after swinging with his left, absorbs most of the blows before he ducks back and launches another jab, and then a second and quick third, to create momentary space.
<Combat> BK-8642's attack MISSES FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (-8)
Fuze darts back too, quicksilver-nimble on her feet despite her stocky build, and taunts, "Come on, old man, is that the best you can do?" But despite her words her eyes are looking worried, she's coming nowhere near close enough to hit Booker yet is having to use every ounce of agility she possesses to avoid those (metaphorically) lethal blows. Now she teases him with space, using everything the ring allows, forcing him to either follow her or stand stupidly there as she dances around him...until she advances just a little far, and snaps out a roundhouse kick at his kidneys. She doesn't fight fair.
<Combat> FZ-4792's attack MISSES BK-8642 at a 100 difficulty. (-15)
BK-8642 is not old. He somewhat lowers his arms when she backs away completely and he smirks in reply, finally showing some emotion there. "I'm just getting to know you better." He leaves his arms low and at the ready, fingers flexing against the idle burn of impacts against his forearms. It feels great. He feels alive! She comes in with a snapping kick and he turns to take the brunt of things, to parry and take hold of her leg so that he can force her backwards and onto the mats with him following pursuit: take things to the ground, try to finish there in a dominate position.
<Combat> BK-8642's attack HITS FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (10)
+ Damage: 4 stun points and 2 wound points.
The fighter pilot's eyes widen. She knows she's made a mistake, and now her leg is caught and pinned. She hops on her other leg, but before the man can drive her backwards she executes an audacious move - kicking up with her free leg, levering herself around in Booker's grip, to try to kick him in the side of the head. Or something.
<Combat> FZ-4792's attack MISSES BK-8642 at a 100 difficulty. (-91)
Or something.
Booker's eyes notably widen at the twisting, somersaulting kick that Fuze retaliates with. He is not expecting it but he can duck his head and jerk to the side in order to let the foot only sweep across his hair and not, for example, attempt to tear his ear off. Since he still has a firm enough grip on the woman's other leg, he throws her down onto the ground and then backs away a step, and then another, as some holler out in the background. "Had enough yet, flygirl?" he calls out.
<Combat> BK-8642's attack HITS FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (24)
+ Damage: 9 stun points and 4 wound points.
FZ-4792 tests her Dexterity skill at a 100 difficulty.
+SUCCESS+ (23).
She lays there but a moment, chest heaving magnificently, before flipping back up onto her feet in a smooth motion. "Not even," she retorts, running a hand over her aching ribs as she tries to assess the damage. Her eyes are fiery as she suddenly charges forwards, unleashing a series of wild haymakers at Booker's head.
<Combat> FZ-4792's attack MISSES BK-8642 at a 100 difficulty. (-113)
Booker is not against giving the pilot an easy out with things. He raises an eyebrow in wait for her reply, watching her. She gets up. She replies. He shakes his head and adopts another fighter's stance. This one appears to be more fluid and loose. She charges. He steps towards her, dipping to the right in dodging the first and then left to counter the next one. He continues this parry alongside quick steps to remain untouched. The last one he blocks altogether and then swivels a fist underhand to level towards her solar plexus.
<Combat> BK-8642's attack HITS FZ-4792 at a 100 difficulty. (59)
+ Damage: 22 stun points and 11 wound points.
And it connects. By god how it connects. She's driven backwards, crashing onto her back onto the mat where she stays, staring up at the bulkhead above her, her face slowly turning purple as she wheezes for breath. She isn't going anywhere. A thin ribbon of drool runs down from the left corner of her mouth.
The punch connects and for a second there, a flash of thought, Booker fears for the woman's health. She stumbles backwards as he follows through with the punch but it is fairly clear that the fight has left her so he refrains from following after her onto the mat. Instead, he steps back as the crowd's buzz fades into sudden nothingness. He glances to his sides and then carefully steps forward. "It's over, okay!" He only takes a knee next to the woman to make sure Fuze is okay and then looks up, across at the nearest pilot. That's about when movement sounds off. The cheering and leering returns. People move to assist FZ-4792. BK-8642 catches the look of a superior non-com and then glances down. He stands there.
As color returns to her cheeks, as breath fills her lungs again, Fuze is helped up. But as she's helped, as she moves her chest, a gasp escapes her lips and she grimaces, hand going to her ribcage. She exhales an soft obscenity, then glances around with pain-filled eyes at the clustered pilots and Stormtroopers. Then she musters a loud, "Alright. It's over. I guess you Stormtroopers can hold your own after all," she admits through clenched teeth. But she can't resist a "...against a hundred and twenty pound /girl/," and there's laughter, albeit pained laughter, in her eyes. She shrugs off the supporting hands and steps forwards, offering her hand to shake. "Peace."
Booker is amongst everyone milling here and there. The rivalry between stations is clear and evident, if only made fiercer by today, but they are at least all First Order; it won't dampen their fighting spirit but only make it stronger. That helps because as she insults him, he smiles amusedly in reply. "You should've taken my offer," he answers. "Agreed," he follows with and returns the hand gesture by shaking her hand firmly and introduces himself, "Bee-Kay Eight-Six-Four-Two, sometimes Forty-Two, or Booker, used to be Buck. It's been a pleasure showing you up, flygirl."
The smile is strained, but it's present. "Eff-Zee Four-Seven-Nine-Two. Callsign 'Fuze'. Squadron Commander, Alpha Squadron. At least until the General hears about this. And next time you'll be the one seeing stars. It'll be a learning experience for you." The hand is clasped tightly. "Now get me to medbay. I think I broke a rib," she grimaces.
Booker has been well-aware he's been fighting an officer, given that Fuze is a pilot, but he was not expecting 'commander' involved. He blinks at the word and then presses his mouth into a flat smile, nodding. "I look forward to that," he remarks with regards to his seeing stars next time. With mentioning of the medical bay, he looks over to get assistance from those nearby to help carry the pilot off to the nearest medical station to get assessed and fixed.
