Emma Nash
Raptor E.C.
28 Years Old Lieutenant Leonis Native
[brw1774|militaryapps]
Posts: 15
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Post by Emma Nash on Jul 24, 2013 17:23:24 GMT -5
Emma watching in slight horror, but most of her body was poised in exhilaration as Ty and Lars swung back and forth, each beating fiercer than the next. She found her arms raised over her head cheering with the rest of the crowd. Being a raptor ECO she favored Tyler the Lieutenant Viper Pilot, it was only proper. Emma had no quarrel with Lars. She had met the Gunny when she had first arrived on the Hyperion. He was a pleasant chap, but he was a marine not a pilot. Emma had nothing against the marines, but when in a fight she automatically sided with the opponent working behind a cockpit, unless of course they were unforgivable assholes.
Tyler however from what she had heard and seen of him was certainly far from an asshole, and an unforgivable one at that. Hearing a bunch of commotion to her left, more than the normal jeers, hoots, and hollers, she caught clips of what people were saying “Three on the Gunny,” her attention was split between listening in on conversation and the two men fighting in the ring. Finally she peeled her eyes away from the pilot and the gunny. She found Chris to her left taking bets. With a smile she rolled her eyes. ‘What the hell,’ she thought to herself and squeezed through a group of people and wove way and that to reach Chris. “Five cubits on Ty,” she told Chris digging out the coins from her pocket. She placed them in Chris’s hands then sidestepped away from him slightly so that she wouldn’t be in the way of those clamoring to make a bet, moving towards the front again.
Her eyes went wide as Ty was smashed across the head and fell to the ground. “No,” she breathed, her voice nearly inaudible, “Come on Ty, get up,” she whispered. She could see the blood trickling over his mouth from his busted up lip. They both looked in bad shape. Then it happened. Tyler rose with such ferocity she hadn’t seen before. It was a fire she recognized, that predatory instinct she knew all too well. After being a victim of such violence she harbored her own rage, which was ready and willing to be unleashed, but only ever in battle. Emma had trained herself to become the predator, unwilling to ever be someone’s prey again. Just then Chris flew by her and bounded up into the ring to stop the fight. She let out a sigh of relief, and it was only then that she realized she had been holding her breath. The gunny looked as though he might have gotten his throat ripped out if he hadn’t stopped them.
As they began the second round she looked uneasily between the two men. This was no longer a friendly fight. Then Lars began to make a show of it. That was a mistake. She watched as the two went at it again. She watched again as each man volley the other one across the ring, and smashed into the ground, then up again. She couldn’t take her eyes off them if she wanted to. She could feel the crowds of people to her right parting and her gaze shifted momentarily to see Lieutenant Colonel DePaul approaching. This had to be a welcomed addition to the crowd. At least both men would have someone to patch them up should they need it. By the looks of things they would need it.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Jul 24, 2013 23:37:55 GMT -5
Tyler had just gotten enough leverage to throw the Gunny to the ground, by griping his arm, and chopping his calf, but on the way down, Lars had maintained enough grit to hang on to Ty's arm, and sent him flying over his head in a counter throw, while in mid fall. It was certainly a far greater match than he was used too.
Marines aren't this smart... was the thought that ran through his head when he got back up, but even as he turned only seconds after his feet were under him, the Gunny was coming for the attack. Which he counterattacked with a solid side kick under his arm, causing another involuntary joint restriction from the mans right arm, and forcing him backwards, as Ty's kick rolled off of his chest. He strided forward once, raising his leg again, but feigning enough to mislead the improper block form high, as he crushed his actual attack low into the inside of his forward left leg.
As soon as his foot touched the ground, Griffin attacked himself, a straight shot to Lars' face with his left, which the marine blocked easily enough with a forearm parry away from him. His next direct attack was with his right for a body shot to his ribs, with his right, but again, the Gunny had his block in, and slammed his left through, throwing his arm away from the attack, but Ty followed with his free left again, slinging for the Gunny's pronounced jawline. Again, he was foiled, as the gunny played him like a fiddle, bringing his right block around with his previous momentum, and shunting his left with little difficulty.
The counter attack was so swift that rather than try to get his hands back up, Tyler simply shunted backwards, avoiding the hit altogether, only a step was retreated, before the next punch came from the other side. This man did have Razor's aggressive bite after all. Both hands, and his head. What a match!
Tyler caught his right with his left, and whirled his wrist around, shanking Lars' fist away and to Ty's left, the Griffin fired his right leg up, leaning against his forward side, sustaining a weaker, but accurate kick quickly. Lars got both hands up still, and buffered his head with two arms, going back to the defensive, and backing up a millimeter of opening. Griffin took it. And squarely kicked his foot right back up with an extra lean on his leg for distance, allowing him to fall with forward momentum. He jabbed with his forward right fist, but Lars was again there with his forearm, blocking in his instinctual fashion.
Ty punched him in his blocking arm, then jerked it away with his left again, and then brought his right uppercutting into Lars sternum, fast enough to audibly hear the wind break against his arms.
Lars seemed to take the sternum shot in stride, and ignored what had to be a severe amount of pain, slamming his iron fist towards Ty's face, only giving him enough time to block it with his elbow, before the Gunny shot his left fist in for a short haymaker, the shotgun of the fisticuffs world. Ty saw that coming a mile away, his peripheral picked up his shoulder when he'd set to motion.
He crimped Lars' tricep with a left jab straight rather than blocking, by attacking the man's arms. It wouldn't do to keep taking those punches at this point, as his arms were on fire from blocking the anvils that the Gunny called punches. As soon as Lars' forward motion was halted, Griffin reared back with his right, and caught full motion in an arching swing to Lars' left outstretched, and vulnerable shoulder. It was... satisfying. To say the least.
He turned as Lars backpedaled under the weight of it, and kicked his right leg up, catching a two fore'armed defensive block square on, effectively stopping his kick cold. Well timed, or lucky didn't matter, he'd keep going. Griffin clawed his shoulder out of the air with his right hand, and slammed his left fist into Lars head from the side, sending him a few steps away from the ropes. No reason to get this tied up there again. He took a step, and turned out sideways, then flipped his leg up for a sidekick, angling in to get a solid heel bite, then took another left jab, and directly after that, he sprang forward with his body to fly forward with a searing right hook.
Lars' was back to defensive now, as he blocked the last punch. Was Ty showing to many tails here? He feigned another blow, and then followed up with a solid kick, backing him up the whole way, maybe the ropes weren't such a bad idea...
As his foot returned to the ground, he was forward on his right foot, so he back fisted to gain some leverage time, and threw a two punch combo with his left, then his right. Lars was catching onto him, and his endurance was scary. Even as he blocked Ty's entire last stand, he converted, and counterattacked en motion.
Ty went defensive, trying to catch his breath, using his elbows to block, maybe he'd get lucky, and bruise the Gunny's good fist...
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Lars Engstrom
Medical
30 Years Old Gunnery Sergeant Combat Medic Gemenon Native
Posts: 484
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Post by Lars Engstrom on Jul 25, 2013 1:36:49 GMT -5
[[Onas has reserved the next Post]]
Lars felt the effects of fatigue creeping over him, but he also felt his opponent giving in. It was now or never, and there was no way he was giving in until the last of his strength left him. That being said, as Griffin's fierce onslaught pounded at him, he wondered if he had misjudged. However, Lars managed to turn the tide mid flow, and began what he knew would be the final change of momentum. Whether or not he won, this was where it all went down.
Left, Right, Left, Lars advanced on the pilot. His opponent managed to block most of the blows, even ducking under a haymaker, but he was flagging, and Lars knew it. First one, then a second kidney shot hit home, as the weary gunnery sergeant pushed his advance. "Funny" he thought, as he launched blow after blow, "How much such delicate bodies like ours can take." It was a strange thought to have in the middle of a slugfest, but that was the medic in him.
After the kidney shots, it seemed like Lars got second wind. He managed to land a few more heavy hits, but then his energy and pace got ahead of him. He lost control of a haymaker, and Griffin picked it out of the air like a frog snagging a particular juicy fly. Using Lars' own momentum, he wrapped up around the medic, and threw him to the ground. Again, Lars was struck by his use of Judo tactics. This man was someone to talk to later, compare notes on the finer points of hand to hand.
As he was down on the ground, he caught sight of the towering Ensign Christophe. Easy to pick out of a crowd because of his sheer size, he looked to be just as interested in the fight as anyone else. Lars grimaced, his mind racing. This was not how it ended. "Alright" he thought, "Timeto put this frak in his place."
Even as he made his plan, Griffin was attacking. A wild punch to the face caught Lars off guard, only allowing for the most meager of blocks, and still connecting with his nose. Such was his focus, however, that he was quick to retaliate. Lashing out with a vicious kick to the pilot's left ankle, Lars sent him stumbling back. The marine lept to his feet, and poured all his strength into one final punch, straight to the unprotected face of his titanic opponent.
Lars smiled grimly at the feeling as his fist connected with the mark. Even through the gloves, he could tell it was solid. A glance at the pilot, confirmed it. The man staggered back, eyes wavering. He remained upright, swaying like a palm in the wind for what seemed like an eternity, before he began to fall backwards like an oak tree that had just been chopped down.
The crowd had gone silent, but the quiet was shattered as Griffin hit the mat with a mighty Crash. Lars stood over him, panting, covered in sweat, and he knew it to be over.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Jul 25, 2013 23:29:32 GMT -5
Lars Engstrom did not back down. He never stopped swinging, or paused. Even when Ty managed to grapple him to the ground again, he did not relent. There was a brief moment, where Griff thought he was fixing to end this game, when he had the gunny on the mat, and went in to punch his ticket. Again Lars surprised him, thinking... or reacting perhaps, just that much quicker. He kicked Ty in the shin with his heel, sending Tylers ankle into the mat, and throwing his balance completely off, and his arms went wild, as he dropped his guard.
The gunny came to his feet in record time, and smashed Tyler across his jawline, sending a wave of inky black across his eyes. It felt like getting hit across the head with a metal pipe. Ty stepped back to put some distance between them until he got his vision back. But it didn't come back, and his foot sloshed against the mat, like he'd stepped into a puddle. He tried to take another step back, but the world just went into a midnight spin on a starless night, and he lost his balance, falling backwards to the mat below.
Tyler couldn't hear anything for a second, just a dull ringing sound, coupled with a dull rhythmic thump in his ears, the washing sound of blood. Then, it all came back to him, slowly at first, but quicker as his head cleared...
Gods Damnit! He'd blacked out.
For a split second, he wondered if anyone had seen that, but then he realised that he'd fallen on his back, a good six feet from where the Gunny still stood. Well that wasn't expected... He thought.
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Post by Viktoriya Gilyov on Jul 25, 2013 23:38:05 GMT -5
Fox had been running on the treadmill, with sweat darkening her gray tank. Her honey-blond hair was wet, slicked back, and she'd been breathing heavily. She'd been one of the later spectators, dripping with sweat and wiping her forehead on her bicep, panting as she came to see what the commotion was about. The boxing match had intrigued her by virtue of what it was, but her jaw dropped to see a familiar contender. Lieutenant Tremaine was possibly the last person she'd have expected to see. Lieutenant Tremaine generally came off as one of the more laid-back of her squadron – hell, of the Hyperion herself. He was always shooting the breeze, laughing and making jokes good, bad, and ugly, with a heavy emphasis on innuendo, and he was basically the ring leader when it came to things like writing Albino Pussies on the doors of the White Tigers squadron. He was the one man-giggling (as his laugh tended to trickle into a throaty sound only dogs could hear) about how many phalli to include in the crude drawings, and at what angles... And, in the cockpit, he was a damn good pilot, if not entirely by the book. But he looked positively vicious, like a man possessed, covered in sweat and blood. His hair was wet with sweat, and even more badly disheveled than usual. The disheveled hair, the stubble he skidded by with...
He looked like Lieutenant Luther Trenton... call sign.. Atlas.
Fox had come in time to see Captain Striker peeling Griffin off of his quarry. She'd seen him poised to strike the medic's throat. That would have been an attempt at a death blow, not fun, not incapacitation, but a gagging medic choking out his life on the floor of the ring. Captain Striker was right to pull them apart... but what was he doing? Oh. Taking bets. Capitalizing on the fact that Griffin had nearly wrecked his career with attempted murder like the putrescent little leech he was.
Captain, my captain, was her bitter thought. She was concerned about Griffin. In awe of him... and mixing up two realities in her mind. She hadn't really paid much attention to the other Shadow Hawk. He'd had a familiarity to him that she'd warmed up to. She wouldn't call him a friend, but an acquaintance she respected. She was more lenient to him in her mind than she would have been to, oh, say, Captain Striker (the douchebag son-of-a-bitch putrescent leech who was obviously compensating for what he lacked near the seam of his pants by his gods-awful attitude... but that's a little off track).The point was ringing clear in her head, looking at the snarling animal Griffin was. She hadn't lumped him with Striker not just because he was a good and respectable pilot, but because he looked like someone she had a weakness for. Lieutenant Trenton. Atlas.
The pilot found herself biting the knuckle of her thumb when Atlas – Griffin – was taking a beating. Then, she cheered for him as loudly as all the other pilots combined... if not moreso. Fox wasn't really a cut-loose sort of person... at least, not here. But, she was for this match, all the while hoping that Griffin could keep that side of himself in check. She wondered about it, but she didn't have time to wonder about it in depth. Whatever had brought him to that point didn't matter. While Griffin's debut as a hair trigger was far from what she'd have expected, it just mattered that he didn't go through with anything else that put his future at stake... and, that he win.
She'd waded through the bodies as best she could, getting dammed a little beyond the center but not quite at the front. She found herself in the midst of a cluster of marines... but that didn't stop her for screaming for her favored champion, regardless of who it antagonized. After a brief conversation of Shut the frak up and Get bent, she was left to her own.
When Atlas.... Griffin, hit the mat, it was frightening for two reasons. One was a sudden sinking fear that he wouldn't get up. The other was what had happened. Pilots didn't have a medical history of blacking out, for any reason, from civilians to the Mark VII. It would have wrecked her if they'd publicly seen him listless, having to be carried away... so when he stirred, she felt as if her heart had started beating again. She found herself praying to Poseidon that he'd be fine. Her fervent cheering was now quiet, panicked. The last pilot she'd prayed for... that had been years. Lieutenant Trenton.. Tremaine, had become the second she had. If she'd been close enough, she'd have tried breaching into the ring to pick up her fallen comrade. But, she wasn't. She was close enough only to have a clear view of his suffering.. not something she'd have wanted to see, if she'd had her druthers.
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Lars Engstrom
Medical
30 Years Old Gunnery Sergeant Combat Medic Gemenon Native
Posts: 484
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Post by Lars Engstrom on Jul 25, 2013 23:51:36 GMT -5
For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence. No one moved, no one spoke, nothing. Lars wiped some sweat from his eye, and looked around. Eyes as big as dinner plates, and jaws slack and wide greeted his gaze. Then, it all changed.
The crowd around the ring erupted into a tidal wave of sound. Cheers, boos, a couple people were still stuck in the state of wonder. Lars couldn't help but smile his trademark crooked smile as the pandemonium grew. He knew they were impressed.
That said, he also had something else to attend to. Crossing the ring to where Ty lay in a heap, Lars noticed his fellow combatant's eyes were open. Crouching, he briefly examined the portion of the face that had taken the most of the blow. Once he determined nothing was severely damaged, (Thank God for Boxing gloves) he stood again, and offered a hand to the fallen pilot.
"Hell of a fight flyboy." He said, spitting his mouth guard into his off hand. "You almost had me there. Now get up on your ass and lets get out of here. First round's on me."
Pulling Ty to his feet, Lars stayed nearby to help in case he lost his balance as they made their way to the ropes. All in all, today had been a good day. Wilson's eyes met the medic's as he was being mobbed by those who had placed bets, Lars nodded and gave a mock salute, trying hard not to laugh outright. "Good day," He muttered.
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Mark DePaul
Medical Chief
40 Years Old Lieutenant Colonel Libran Native
[brw1812|militaryapps]It's not that kind of shot.
Posts: 46
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Post by Mark DePaul on Jul 26, 2013 0:12:57 GMT -5
The fight lasted for a while longer.
Mark understood the need for the troops to blow off some steam every now and then, but that didn't stop him from keeping a vigilant watch over the two combatants. He quickly noted the fatigue and frustration setting in, as the two continued to box beat the shit out of each other. His analysis of the situation was immediately met with an answer when the combat medic, Lars, took a huge fall. The room fell silent, shocked over what it just witnessed, followed by a roar of approval. The fight was finally over.
The crowd, contagious with euphoria now, crowded around the ropes of the ring. After barking some orders and pushing aside some grunts, the doctor made his way to center stage to meet the two.
"Both of you. Sickbay. Now" DePaul hissed, and gave both men a haunting glare. He made it abundantly clear over how much he disapproved over what he witnessed.
Turning to face the crowd now, he yelled over the roar to restore order. "Alright, alright that's enough! Fights over! Clear it out before I decide to take ALL the betting money..." Noting the possibility of losing money, the bulk of the mob immediately dispersed. DePaul wasn't finished though; he pointed to a few random people in the crowd.
"You, and you, with me" he said, looking at Nash and Wilson. "I need both of you to help me get these idiots to sickbay." Before either fighter could protest, he raised his hand to silence them. Mark knew very well that in weakened state and rapidly receding adrenaline, they were gonna need help getting to sickbay.
"Ready? Lets go" DePaul growled, and stormed out of the large room.
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Post by Alexander Christophe on Jul 28, 2013 1:29:19 GMT -5
Alexander saw what was going on. He was stunned at what he was looking at. He couldn't understand why anyone wasn't stopping the fight. There where plenty of men and woman in there to stop it. Alexander wasn't a boxer and thought the sport a little impractical but it had rules and by this time it seemed as if they where merely street fighting. Alexander took a step to the ring to go break up the fight when it ended. Alex just shook his head and looked at Wilson. "Just give me my hundred cubits back this wasn't a fight those frak ups turned it into a street fight. A disgrace to the uniform they wear, especially the medic." He was a little more then pissed at what the marine had done. the marine won the fight with tactics he had learned in basic and he was most likely better trained then the pilot. Both men seemed to have great training but they went from a boxing match to a street fight. Alexander held marines to a different standard then the rest. He hated the Stereotype that marines where nothing but dumb brutes. In his opinion all the medic did was prove there stereotype right.
Alexander walked towards the ring his SFC followed closely, they where rarely found separate from each other. It was a comfort to both because they knew either way they each had the others back. as he reached the ring the CMO spoke some orders telling them to get to the infirmary. It was probably the best decision anyone made the whole night. He then looked at the two men looking at the pilot first "My understanding is that boxing has rules maybe next time you will follow them." he said sternly. He was sure the pilot most likely out ranked him but they where both out of uniform and off duty. He would respect his rank and not go overboard because of it. Then Alexander turned his attention to the gunnery sergeant."and you the next time you want to pick on someone why don't you pick on someone more your size. " He said with fire in his eyes. It was obvious he meant himself he wasn't going to go any farther then that depending on his response. The man wasn't under his chain of command and it was a good thing. He would train his disgraceful behavior out of him. Alexander just waited there as the other two men obeyed orders and helped them out of the ring.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Jul 29, 2013 0:02:25 GMT -5
"Hell of a fight flyboy. You almost had me there. Now get up on your ass and lets get out of here. First round's on me." The Gunny said, offering a hand up. Ty took it, and got to his feet, shaking out the black dots still wavering around his vision. Lars showed his metal by 'leaving it in the ring,' that took a lot of moxy, and Ty respected that.
"You're no slouch yur'self Gunny, I'll take you up on that, at least till I find out how much dept ma squads in.." Ty said with a bloody smirk, and then stood a little higher, popping his back. The miniature celebration didn't last long, though, as the doc came walking up. "Both of you. Sickbay. Now." That would have been pretty much that, two people you didn't piss off on a Battlestar, the cook, and the doc. But as they were headed out of the ring, another Officer waltzed up, and he had nothing but pleasurable thoughts for the crew.
"My understanding is that boxing has rules maybe next time you will follow them." He said in pure Jarhead form.
"Yeah Ensign, I'll bare that in mind next time," Tremaine retorted, in a mock aggregated tone. Military tradition held that Jocks an Jarheads didn't play well together, and Ty wasn't one to bump history, but in truth, everyone on the Battlestar had a job to do, and Ty couldn't disrespect men who put themselves in the position that these boys did. It was a tough job, and there is no where to run in the close quarters of a ship hallway fight. That took a lot of commitment.
Ty slid out of the ring, and waved at the others a second, then walked over to Wilson, wincing a bit from the pain handling the pain rather well, for a flyboy. "How much did you lose on me?" He whispered to him with a grin.
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Roger Davis
Marine Commander Staff
34 Years Old Major Aerilon Native
[brw1775|militaryapps]Sic Loquimur Omnes
Posts: 873
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Post by Roger Davis on Aug 8, 2013 19:23:42 GMT -5
DePaul's initial observations weren't promising but then again that wasn't any type of news. It was easy to see the wounds already forming, a bit severe for a simple boxing match. Roger gestured in response to DePaul. He was there to stop it from turning into a riot or attempted murder. DePaul was there to make sure that the boxers didn't cause any permanent damage. Plus, Mark was the ranking officer. The call thus laid with him.
As much as he disapproved, it seemed that DePaul held off on calling it then and there (and potentially starting that riot for Roger as a result). Fortunately the two boxers seemed to actually be fighting with their bodies rather than whatever had caused those deep cuts from before. The fight also didn't last all too much longer, not to diminish the effort that was being exerted. There was certainly a large crescendo from both combatants but finally Tremaine went down.
Absolute silence turned to cheers and jeers from the crowd. Chris was swarmed by bettors and then the combatants were confronted by the CMO who insisted they accompany him to the sickbay. They'd be fools to refuse it especially if they wanted to be healed up before the war games. Proving not to be great fools they did as ordered.
Roger hung back and watched as the room quickly emptied now that the main entertainment had ended. With the crowd dispersed of its own accord, Roger made his way off toward the sickbay. He wanted to have a word with Chris, just as friends not regarding the fight, and wanted to maybe give some tough words to the fighters about voluntarily getting injured not being an excuse to perform poorly on watch the next day.
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