Cours, petit lapin, cours. [Ty, Open]

[Lars Engstrom]

[Hyperion Gym, 1700 Hours. 1 October 2003]

Lars staggered back, blood and sweat mixing in his eye and sending him to a stinging, watery near blindness. He squinted through the haze of his swelled eye across the boxing ring. His opponent stood at the far side of the ring, and he didn't seem to look much better.

The match had been going for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only 17 minutes young, but it was a heavy hitter. This brought back all the memories of fights back on the jupiter. He smiled, a crooked, tired smile. Spitting out some blood, he reset his stance, and wiped the sweat from his eyes. The heavy boxing gloves felt like a ton of bricks hanging from the ends of his leaden arms.

Lars had been down in the gym, about to start working out when he found the other contender throwing punches at a speed bag, and his interest was piqued. A few words, and some smack talk had been exchanged, and then before he knew it, they were climbing into the ring and strapping on gloves, biting down on mouth guards, and then the madness began.

It had started as a bout between casual gym goers, but now had certainly become a heated rivalry. A crowd was gathering as the two titans clashed again and again, fierce bouts separated by moments of panting and heaving embraces so common to the sport. But at this moment, they two were standing, slowly circling.

Lars was admittedly surprised by the ferocity of the smaller man. He was almost a foot Lars' junior, but he fought harder than most. Lars only remembered a few men, and one particularly feisty woman, who could fight with such tenacity. As his breath returned to him, he called across the ring, over the cheers, boos, and jeers of their audience.

"That all you got, short stuff?"

[Tyler Tremaine]

Ambient Crowd Noise

Tyler wiped the blood from his brow with his forearm, as he took a step to the right, circling with Engstrom like two sharks waiting to strike. The Gunny was no joke, despite his blonde hair, the shark insite wasn't that off. That's certainly how Tyler fought. Being wailed on this marine was like being beaten with a cane. And he was fast to boot. Ty took a step in with his circle, and waited for the Gunny to do the same. He had his fists up, tracking Engstrom with anticipation.

Took his cues from Razor, the man was a beast, and hard to attack, do to his reach. Tyler was used to fighting taller opponents, but that didn't make it any easier. Sidney made him fight outside of the norm, he had to constantly "strafe and strike" like he'd have done in his Viper. Especially against Razor, because the man never relented. He was ten years older than Griffin, but not even one step slower. It was fair to say, that most of Tyler's life was spent preparing for moments like this, when he was pitted against odds he shouldn't overcome. And this guy... Well. He was not the right weight, or height, but again, that sort of summed up Tyler's judgement didn't it? Find the biggest, baddest dude in the whole room, and slap him with an insult.... As he thought of it, Lars brought his own insult. Shorty. At least it was original, he thought sarcastically.

Tyler stepped in again, this time bringing his fist up hard, shooting under Lars' high arm, and into his armpit, hooking the man's left elbow down in natural response. It was immediately followed up by a sharp strike to his sternum with Ty's waiting right, which Lars blocked with his elbow, and then without waiting, Ty smashed his left fist forward again, slamming towards lars jaw from below, his feet pivoting under him, and coming up on his toes for the contact, as he tried to leave some distance between them. Lars came down from his blocked jaw shot, his arm still high, and Ty saw his opportunity. He struck quickly for Engstrom's Stomach, slamming his knuckles into flesh as Lars was still coming down. The man buckled at the waist, his breath leaving in an audible whoosh.

There was a huge OHHHHH from the fellow soldiers gathered around, and someone actually tagged the ring bell. He had to hand it to his fleet, they managed to make a big deal out of anything when they got bored, still didn't make it any less cool though. He walked over to the Gunny while he recovered his breath, and mouthed off, "You're in the ring now son..."

[Lars Engstrom]

Lars leaned on the ropes, trying desperately to regain his breath. He had been caught off guard. "Stupid" he thought, as he struggled for air, "Shoulda seen it coming."

It was as he regained his breath that the Ty made his mistake. He approached the winded Gunny, who was still leaning on the ropes to make some snide comment of his own. In an instant, Lars reacted.

[red]"You're in the ring now son"[/red]

Even before the words were completely out of Tremaine's mouth, Lars tensed and threw himself into a vicious all out assault on his opponent. He crashed into Ty, wrapping him in a vice like grip, and his momentum carried them into the ropes on the far side of the ring, letting out a feral scream of rage as he went.

Time seemed to slow down, as Lars released his grip and let out a furious hailstorm of blows. Behind his swollen, sweat burned eyes, it was hard to tell if they connected, but they kept coming. Left, right, left, left, uppercut, one after another. He felt one of his blows connect with Tremaine's face, hard.

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the fatigue creeping over him. Using what remained of his strength, he threw his opponent from the side, sending him crashing to the ground, and retreated. He had overstepped, but with any luck done enough to get his breath back before the counter attack. He stood, panting, a distance from the other man. He felt blood in his mouth, and figured he must have managed to cut his tongue. His arm also oozed, due to the collision with a post during his charge.

He braced for the beating that was sure to ensue, as Ty stood, and began to approach. "We aren't so different" He mused, gritting his teeth, and raising his fists to defend. "Stubborn as an ox's ass, both."

[Emma Nash]

It was her second day on the Hyperion and already it was getting interesting. Emma had been using the leg press in the Hyperion gym when a fight began to break out between two men. She decided to ignore it for a while, until a crowd started to gather. Her green-brown eyes shifted over to the ring intermittently. Finally the jeers and garrulous noises coming from those surrounding the ring couldn’t be drowned out by the music blasting from her headphones.

Relinquishing her spot on the machine she wiped down her own sweat and joined the crowd. As she crossed the room Emma put her hair up into a messy bun. She quietly wove her way through the crowd of people and slipped up to the front. Truth be told Emma loved fighting. She liked the ferociousness of it, the power behind every punch or kick. She liked knowing she could take down a man equal her size or more. A smile had hinted at her features as she thought about this.

She watched the two men battle back and forth. From the men and women cheering she gathered that the shorter man was named Griffin, or at least that was his call sign. When another person cheered Ty, she knew that must be his name, and the other man, the Gunny, was named Lars. She bit her lip as Lars got a fist full in the gut. Then gasped when Ty was slammed against the ropes on the other side. This was certainly a compelling fight. She could understand why such a crowd had gathered. Lars was swinging furiously. Finally one of the blows connected with Ty’s face, she winced.

[Chris Wilson]

Chris had spent the day admiring the looks on the faces of the White Tigers, or should I say Albino Puss' after their little initiation for the new Shadow Hawk. What he had been looking for was Jason. Oh the look on the little Lt's face was going to be priceless. He was going to blow a gasket when he talks to Chris about it.

Chris was wondering the halls looking for him when he stumbled across what seemed like a party going in the Hyperion's gym. With out hesitation Chris made his way in and began to look around the place trying to find Jason. He wasn't planning to approach him about it no he figured he would accuse Chris of this heinous crime and Chris would deny it of course. Sadly there was no sight of him. That is when Chris realized what was going on around him.

There was a fight going on, friendly or not Chris was going to get a ring side seat to this one. As he approached he realized it was one of his own that was up in there. One of his best fighters both in and out of the viper. Chris pushed his way through the crowd and climbed the side of the ropes. "Frak him up Griff!" he exclaimed then turned to face the crowd still holding himself to the side of the ring.

Chris was going to take this chance to make himself a little extra cash. "Alright lady and gents, lets make this interesting. we are taking two to one odds in favor of Lieutenant Tremaine. Place your bets. We accept cash only." Chris had been known for these kind of things and people he knew were quick to begin placing bets.

[Tyler Tremaine]

Tyler barely got the words out of his mouth when Lars charged in full Marine fashion. He crashed into Ty with the force of a bulldozer, nearly lifting him off his feet, and completely overpowering him in a roar of churning legs. Griffin wrenched at his arm as the got closer to the ropes, how could he have this much energy left, his eyes were full of blood for Zeus' sake! He caught traction with his right foot for a second, and crushed it into the ground, forcing them both sideways, and getting his hand around Lar's forearm right before...

They smashed into the turnbuckle together, Tyler turned towards the crowd of soldiers just as they hit, and only missed breaking his ribs because the gunny's arm was between his ribs and the post. His chest opened up with a spurt of blood, and it rained out in a splash across his people, and then he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Lars was already up again.

Ty turned into Engstrom and took a shot right in the jaw, then a second was coming for his ribs, which he blocked with a tucked arm. Several more came in repeatedly, hammering away at him, Ty blocking with his elbows and his forearms, each shot sending pains through his arms and his ribs when he missed a block. Finally, he left his guard down too long, and an inaudible pack went through his head. Even without his sense of hearing, it was loud as a bell, and his eyes stared of into blank space afterwards, the world washing over.

Lars smashed into him like a battering ram with his shoulder, slinging Ty to the mat in a heap of bloody flesh.

Tyler looked up into the faces mere feet away, and was surprised at how his vision blurred for a moment. A good fight... hadn't had one in a long time. He opened his mouth, blood slicking from his upper lip to his mouthpiece. He licked it away and spit it against the mat, and broke regulations, by getting back up. He still couldn't hear past the ringing in his ears, but he'd just figured out what he wanted to do to the doc.

Tyler turned towards him, but if was Griffin who attacked. He strided forward in three steps, closing the gap as he had done with the terrorist on the Karaya. He dropped his heel on Lar's, the kicked his kneecap out of the way, stepping inside, and thrusting his forearm up, crushing his jaw with his elbow. He turned, sideways, grabbing the man's forearm, and pulling it sideways, then clipped it up, scissoring his hand up, and wrenching his elbow back into Lars mouth.

Someone had jumped the ropes, and grabbed Griffin just as he was poised to strike at Lar's throat, his arm coiled back, his fist aimed for blood. Two arms had went under his armpits and around his shoulders, and someone peeled him away, and then released him towards the other side of the ring. He turned over on his heel, whirling inside a loop, rather than over with the natural swing of his body. He was attacking again, right up until his rank was bellowed out. Then Tyler stopped short, and and took the order.

[Chris Wilson]

The betting was going well with more people betting on the marine. A sure bet to lose in Chris' eyes. The room was filled with marines blind betting. Oh how Chris had always loved that blind faith of marines it had given him the advantage so many times before.

Chris could hear the fight rage on behind him and the sound of the crowd giving hints to good blows, but he would watch after he had collected his money. When he did turn he saw the marine wrap Ty up in what looked like a dangerous position for either fighter to be in. It was only a moment later that Chris saw something he hadn't expected from the fight. The atmosphere changed and the fight became serious. Ty was not fighting a friendly fight but fighting for his life.

Chris pulled himself up on to the ropes. "Round one is over!" He said as he bounded in to the ring with his squad mate. Chris came up behind him as those who had bet on Ty began to boo at Chris for his interference. Chris wrapped his arms under Tys and began to pull him back. Just as he got him to the corner Ty broke loss and was ready to engage him. "Griffin! Take it easy." He stated just as he did Ty began to halt and come back to focus with them.

"keep it clean and don't kill anyone just yet we will have a time and place for that later." Chris stated as he leaned Ty in the corner of the ring. "Alright both of you fifteen seconds then we move on to round two." Chris was going to take care of his guy but also see if he could make a bit off this fight, for that it had to keep going.

[Lars Engstrom]

Lars was totally unprepared for the onslaught that the other fighter unleashed from seemingly nowhere. He caught a glimpse of the eyes that charged towards him, and new something had changed. This was no longer a friendly fight. It was like something had snapped within Ty.

Lars had only enough time to try to protect his head as the first blows came down, but such was the pilot's ferocity that not even that could help him. He was taken down, and felt blow after blow connect. He managed to block a couple, but it was obvious who would win if this continued.

"You....Frak" He spat in between blows, his voice a roar, "You...Aren't....Even...Boxing...."

Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. The Feral pilot was pulled from him, by whom, Lars couldn't say at this moment. But then he heard the voice. "Go figure," He thought, darkly, as he got to his feet. "Leave it to Wilson to try and make a buck."

Lars stood panting, the roar of the now large crowd thundering in his head. Someone tossed him a water bottle and a towel, and he proceeded to clean himself up as best he could. Then he took several drinks from the bottle. The water burned his throat, which had become surprisingly dry. As he set it down, he pointed at Ty, then he spoke. Icily calm, as was his way.

"You best watch yourself flyboy." He said, face a hard mask, no emotion. "You can't keep yourself in control, then you get to see me lose it... and trust me, they don't teach you shit about how to defend yourself in jokey class." He spat the last of the water, witch was now reddish with blood, and readied himself for the next round.

"Oh and Wilson." He called out, "Piss off"

[Chris Wilson]

Chris waited a moment to make sure that Ty had come back down to the Hyperion at least enough to know not to rip the mans throat out. At least that was the original plan. That was quickly changed by the marine who seemed he would not get over his grudge with flyboys.

"Frak you sergeant. You're lucky I saved you neck." Chris said as he stood up out of the way of the pilot and jumped back out of the ring. "It's your funeral." Chris looked over to Ty and gave the call he was waiting for. "Round two, fight!" With that he jumped back down and to his business of getting the winnings in to his pocket.

"Alright one at a time betting will stop in one minute." He looked down to his watch and then back up to all the hands coming his direction to offer up their cubits for the taking.

[Lars Engstrom]

Lars merely smiled at Wilson's jibe. As the man spoke, he removed his own shirt, which was now soaked with sweat, and more uncomfortable than anything. He smiled down at the bruises already forming. This was going to be fun.

He had already decided this fight was his, frak the pilot and his ego. If there were to be no holds barred, so be it. As the word "Fight" rang through the gym, Lars readied himself for the next bout. Then a thought struck him. "Let's give them a show." he muttered.

Lars turned away from his opponent, it was a calculated risk. He looked around at the crowd. "COME ON!" HE yelled, throwing his fist up in the air. The response was electrifying. The onlookers went wild. There was a roar that was all but deafening. He smiled his crooked smile, and raised his other fist. If possible, they got even louder. Lars couldn't help but feel proud. This was what made life worth living.

But yet, even as the sound of the crowd eclipsed him, he heard, or perhaps felt the movement behind him. Whirling at the last minute, he responded to the pilot's attack.

He had played his cards a little too slowly, and the pilot's first attack came before he could block it. He felt the other man's arm catch him on the collarbone, forcing him back. Then came the punches. Lars had expected these. One, two, three, then four, each one blocked deftly by the large marine's own gloved hands.

[Tyler Tremaine]

Chris had broken it up, and tried to calm him down. It wasn't really something Griffin was prepared to do as of yet. But his mind settled a bit. Lars bellowed out some insults, and Chris was Chris. Angry and ghetto as hades about it. When he climbed out of the ring, the talking continued between them, and Grif smiled as Chris went back to collecting what was apparently started before he'd had his clock cleaned. Leave it to Striker to make money off of this. He'd nearly resigned himself to calm all the way down, debating it really, one the basis that fighting fare and square had only gotten him into a right screwed up mess in the first eh... round.

Then Lars turned around, lifting his hands, and taunting the soldiers like they were some saturday crowd on Carillon or something. To be completely honest. It pissed him off. Seeing this guy not hurt, not broken, still composed. Frakin Jarhead.

Griffin started walking towards him before someone even called fight. Coming up from behind, he grabbed at Lars shoulder, but he turned around to quickly. Still he had the element of surprise. Griffin forced him towards the ropes with his right arm, clenching down on Lars' right arm like a vice. He wrenched his forearm down, but Lar's was too strong, and he pulled out of it, swinging around with his left, Griffin took a shot, but it was blocked almost as soon as he threw his punch! Giff took an immediate shot with his right, tagging a blocking elbow, which he followed up with another left, this time a uppercutting hook, catching Lars in the ribs barley, but he didn't give him a moment to consider stopping the attack.

No sooner than Griffin's left connected, than he had yet another right coming, this time, with Lars reeling in from his microsendont of pained ribs, he left his left arm down too low, and too far in, and Griffin's right hook swung in tight, sapping a smacking chin touch. It lacked the power he would have given had he not already committed his body for the high left smash he was bringing. But this one was blocked by the Gunny's big meaty wrist, feathered away, even as his face had a look of dazing to it. Griffin did not relent even an instant. This man was simply too big to let go of any attack chain. Without even thinking, he continued back from his right, continuing to bring the heat.

He tried to block the right, but it Ty's fist ended up hooking into Lar's wrist, and dragging both their arms down, leaving his face wide open. Griffin attacked, with his left. Hard. Catching a full satisfying blow to the Gunny's chin, which he ungentlemanly followed without hesitation with a second blow, swinging the gunny's head around like a sag of potatoes to the left. Which he really wanted to catch on the follow up, and take the punch Lar's ticket with one last left, but just as it came around, not a split second later, And arm was there. Blocking him. Still in flashing speed, Griff smashed the Gunny's leg at the kneecap, sending his leg to the ground with a loud crack! Which in anger, Tyler followed up with his right kneecap, and Lars went limp a second.

Suddenly though. Right there, where he could have pummeled the man into submission, it wasn't enough. He had blocked Griffin, that last left, amidst a flurry of headshots, he still had the wits to block...

Tyler picked the gunny up by his armpits, and dragged the larger man up to the ropes. Once he had him up to eye level, the Gunny;s feet went back to working on their own again, and Ty just stood their, waiting for him to come around. No one could say that Tyler beat a man about to fall to the ground. No. This would not end like that, so Tyler stood eye to eye with Lars, staring menacingly into his eyes. He waited. And then.

He wished he hadn't....

[Lars Engstrom]

Lars' nose was bleeding, and as he stared into the other man's eyes, he smiled, blood running over his lips. Glancing over, he noticed a new arrival to the crowd. His muddled head meant that it took him a while to recognize the CMO. "Well," he thought, "good to know someone's here to patch ME up." Looking back at Ty, Lars sniffed loudly, and then sprung into action.

A deft jab to the gut sent Tyler staggering back, but before he could regain his footing, Lars was upon him. He bull rushed the pilot, wrapping him in his strong embrace and carrying him into the far ropes. Releasing his hold, he attempted a wild left hay maker, but the smaller man ducked under it. Lars easily blocked his counter, and swung in a second blow. This time, however his fist was caught and the pilot threw him, judo style.

Lars used his own momentum to carry the other, much smaller man into the throw, sending them both to the ground with a bang.

Rolling to his feet, Lars stepped forward just in time to receive the full force of a kick to the chest, which sent him staggering back again. He took two steps back, and braced for the counter attack. Tremaine was back on the offensive.

[Roger Davis]

One hour into the Dog Watch and all was not quiet aboard ship.

Major Davis had just come back aboard ship not more than an hour earlier. A decade ago he'd probably be the guy who came back from leave a week early just because he was that gung-ho. Ten years and three kids can really change a man's allocation of his precious free time. Roger had caught the late afternoon Raptor up to the station, taken his bags to his quarters, and now was headed aft toward his office and the marine department to see what fires might already need to be put out. A ship in port actually tended to cause more trouble than one on patrol... idle hands and minds.

Roger's corridor soon merged with another heading aft. Now not far ahead of him was a familiar face. "Going my way, Colonel?" he asked to the Chief Medical Officer. Roger had known the Lieutenant for years going back to the Academy on Caprica and of course the past four years on Hyperion as fellow department heads. DePaul was mostly likely headed aft to sickbay, on the same general route Roger would have to take to get to his office a bit further past it.

The two didn't get far before the commotion from a nearby compartment demanded their attention. The two senior officers entered the gym to find a throng surrounding the boxing ring. Money was exchanging hands and not surprisingly Chris Wilson seemed to be behind that. From there, Roger caught a glimpse of the actual combatants. Tremaine, one of Chris' guys, and Engstrom, one of Roger's own... and maybe also unofficially one of Mark's since the man was a marine medic.

Roger wasn't a big fan of boxing. Martial prowess had its place in any military disciplines (though it's practical uses in real combat situations were not all too common) but he just never understood how beating the shit out of someone who was not the enemy and in turn getting pummeled yourself was somehow enjoyable. Tyler and Lars seemed to be doing just that. Both were badly bruised and bloodied. In addition the fight seemed to be getting a little out of control. Rather than a display of skill and finesse this seemed to be an all out brawl. Of course marine-pilot and enlisted-officer made the atmosphere even more volatile.

Now the big bosses were here to break it up if necessary. Roger if it became too violent and Mark if the fighters were injured too badly. Roger made a silent gesture with his head and eyes that Mark might want to get ringside so he could do just that and see if the two were hurting bad enough that this thing needed to be called before one of them died. Meanwhile Roger moved off through the crowd toward Chris. "Your boy knows that we've got the Ophion games in a week, doesn't he?" Roger asked. "Don't know how he expects to perform with crack ribs, healing gashes, and a pair of shiners."

[Mark DePaul]

Mark briskly walked down the halls to sickbay, with the intention of doing a routine check-up of everyone and everything in there. Being Chief Medical Officer had its privileges, including the need to pull himself away from personal errands to make sure his department doesn't fall apart while he's away.

The Colonel didn't get very far when a familiar voice grabbed his attention. Turning around, he was greeted by his old friend from the academy. "Major. Pleasant surprise. Please, walk with me" the doctor responded, smiling politely. The two strolled a bit further when loud roaring and a commotion got both the officers' attention. The two quickly went to go investigate, finding themselves in the middle of a boxing event.

Nearly wall to wall, the room was filled with cheering patrons, both pilots and marines alike. All eyes were centered towards the middle of the room, the ring in which two men seemed to be deadlocked in a brawl. The one that was called "Griffin" from the chants, he didn't recognize. He was surprised however, to see Engstrom partaking in such barbarism; the sergeant was more of an acquaintance, once who's only directly relation to DePaul was the occasional stealing borrowing of supplies for the field, as well as the severely injured he brought back for Mark to tend to properly.

"Hm. A marine before a medic..." he muttered under his breath, making an observation of Engstrom's priorities. As a young recruit DePaul himself enjoyed the occasional friendly boxing game, but that paled in comparison to what he was now witnessing. The two men in the ring were no longer boxing for sport: as the fight went on it became painfully apparent that the two were trying to kill each other now.

Also different, was the doctor's mindset. Rather than get pulled into all the excitement and jeering as he normally would've done back then, he now was sighing excessively over all the stitches and bandaging he would have to do later. He disliked boxing now, because it was more work for the doctor.

Somewhere out there, the enemy waits patiently for another war. Yet, here they are, "the fleet's finest", itching to end it all sooner rather than later.

Mark nodded in response to Roger and began strolling through the crowd, never peeling his eyes off of the fight. As he walked a natural divide formed in the sea of people, not wanting to mess with a senior officer. Ringside now, he began examining the two fighter's injuries in greater detail.

There wasn't much he could readily assess (he preferred his patients to be lying still rather than fighting and beating each other up) but one didn't need to be a doctor to see the bruising, open cuts, and excessive bleeding by both combatants. Shallow breathing could've indicated fatigue, cracked ribs, or both. In any case, it wasn't a pretty picture. If the two didn't stop fighting soon (or at least calm down and not try to kill each other) this could end badly for them both.

DePaul looked across the way, over to Roger, who was speaking with one of the pilots. He frowned, giving his official assessment of the situation.

"Acting like godsdamn animals..." he muttered under his breath.

[Alexander Christophe]

Alexander and his men had come to the Hyperion a day earlier. The did the rigmarole and got all settled in and then spent a few hours off ship "celebrating" there new assignment. Truth be told none of them where to excited about being stationed on a battlestar for six months, just to be used as a recruiting tool. The military life is what it is though and they had there mission.

The small squad of men needed to get there workout in for the day so they ended up heading down to the rec room. What they saw was some kind of spectacle. The had just come in to see two men pummeling each other in the ring. Alexander only caught a few moments of it before he looked at his SFC and best friend.
"I don't know about you sergeant but it looks like a couple gorilla's beating there chest in the ring." the SFC just laughed and smiled. He didn't need to say anything else. Both men had some real training and where some of the best of the best.

Alexander and his squad wondered the crowd and got little tid bits from the crowd. From what he heard it was a medic and a pilot fighting in the ring. Alexander smirked at the thought. " well a medic and a pilot, at least its a fair fight" he thought to himself.

As Alexander and his men walked through the crowd in a somewhat formation, he walked up to a man taking bets. The odds where two to one in favor for the pilot. The odds seemed fair although the man opposing the pilot was a marine, he was after all only a medic. Alexander walked up to him and noticed major Davis next to him. Alexander took point and gave the major the respect he deserved "sir." he said to major Davis. Then he looked at the would be bookie. "I would like to put a hundred cubits on the medic." Alexander then looked at one of his squad members and with a nod the man left to go get the hundred cubits. There initial reason for going to the gym was to work out so Alexander didn't have his wallet on him.