2013.09.01 - Planned Fights

Air ops are 24/7.
SHIELD ops are 24/7.
Downttime usually isn't. Or it's spent in honing or finetuning already existant skills. There's room for learning new, but the chances are good that one isn't hired due to the capacity to learn a skill. The basics must be there, as well as the advanced. If one thought the Marines was an exclusionary force, they've never seen SHIELD.
There is, though, the chance to blow off steam in a constructive manner, and on the Argus, opportunities abound! There's sparring. A boxing ring. A full gym. A weapons range (complete with ballistics testing areas). An olympic-sized swimming pool. No excuses for not finding a way to burn off excess energy or aggrevation.
In the boxing ring, two burly looking soldiers are 'going at it', fancy footwork and everything, with coaches on the sidelines shouting instructions. It's messy; it doesn't look anything like a carefully orchestrated bout, but rather a couple of rough and tumble streetfighters that are trying to limit their movements, to pace themselves and time every blow.
"Get him!"
"You haven't touched him yet! Dancing around like a fairy!"
"Hey, you can't say-"
"You're ripe for the list, Benson!"
The pair of comparitively recent intel officers are on the sidelines, offering the loudest in advice in the form of haranguing. Jumping up, one is calling out, "Jesus Christ.. let me up there! You fight like a fucking girl! You'd be some Ay-rabs little girl in no time!"
Part of the job involves doing what everyone else does: Making use of downtime. Since arriving on the Argus, Sarah Hayes hasn't had a chance to leave. Not that she wanted to. Behind that hand-picked mask lies the dark mind of Mystique, her 'transfer' up here giving her endless opportunities to learn more about SHIELD intel, how the Helicarrier operates, and what sort of things she can eventually gain access to before she disappears.
There's been a hell of a lot of work to do. But, she's been enjoying herself along the way. Such as a little time at the pistol range, where she ever so slightly one-upped the two male intel operatives that came aboard the same day that she had. Rubbing a little salt into the wounds happens to be something she's good at, when she's not busy twisting the knife another few degrees.
With her next free opportunity she returns to the training area, this time to focus on various inanimate objects which she can smack around without hurting anything or getting into trouble. Raven, much like Sarah originally had been, has plenty of stress to work out of her system. Unfortunately for her, that also means holding her punches even now while making it appear that she isn't. This, too, is part of the game. She won't be able to properly push herself until things really start to go sideways up here.
Lindstrom isn't much of a brawler -- which doesn't mean she doesn't know hand-to-hand... some tricky hand-to-hand at that. But, she's more adept with those physical arts that use her opponents' mass and momentum against them than she is in the pummel-the-living-shit brute force attack sort of technique.
Or guns. She much prefers guns. Distance is GOOD.
Fact is, Lindstrom isn't here for long. She's expected on the carrier group off the coast of Genosha before much longer. Which means she has a jet to catch. (A fighter jet, of course. And, yes. She will pilot it herself, thankyoukindly.) At the moment, she's passing through the gym from the ballistics range, a gun case over her shoulder. She pauses, a single golden brow arching, as the noise from the boxing match draws her attention. A lopsided smile touches her lips -- not so much enjoyment of the spectacle as dry amusement at its inevitability.
"Oh hey, will you look who it is!" comes as a laugh from one of the young men, reasonably newly arrived. Twisting around and pointing (have their mothers never taught them that pointing is rude?) Sarah out, an elbow in the gut to his compatriot is given.
The 'attack' is swatted away, but the 'partner in crime', he that was outshot that is, turns about out of idle curiousity.
Ah ha!
"Hey, Robert!" one of the soldiers on the mat is called to from the peanut gallery. "Get your ass down, and let a real girl fuck him up." Uh huh. His tone pretty much screams out, 'Wipe the floor with her! She wants to be a big shit?'
This gives the other intel civvie the chance to call out, "Hey Hayes! Get your ass over here! You looked like you wanted Ty bad." Ye-ah. "He's all yours, sweetie!"
The art of manipulation is a thing to be respected and learned well. Sarah's pace slows when her name is called out, glancing toward the ring at the two hooligans that are trying to get her attention in some of the least subtle ways possible. Aside from a slight scowl there's no outward expression of emotion.
On the inside, things are much different.
"I suppose I can wade in the mud with you guys for a while, they've got decent showers here."
A mostly full bottle of water is set aside, then the fellow Intel Ops steps onto the mat. She knew this would happen sooner or later. She had played the whole thing out from the start. Now, much like what's probably running through their minds, she has them right where she wants them. The mix of taunts and support from the others only fuels the moment, the short haired brunette loosening her arms up while she glances between the two.
"Am I going to have to smack both of you down at once or is someone going to wait their turn?"
The blonde woman passing through the room doesn't escape her notice. It's another face to copy if Mystique ever needs to. Maybe she won't get the other's voice but she can see how Kristin moves and how she carries herself. Body language, confidence in stride, no detail is overlooked in that momentary glance.
Kit did a brief stint in Intel, but her expertise really is R&D. Stuck on a glacier with MacGyver, she'd probably be the one digging them out, yes... while he looked for the paper clip and foil gum wrapper. Nonetheless, she remembers the competitiveness, and how the guys would rarely give a girl a break.
Ain't no place for a woman, went the usual bluster, Unless she's the honey in the honeypot trap.
Bite me, was her usual response. (Which usually got someone a kick in the teeth when he tried.)
As poor Hayes is called out, the blonde smiles. Frankly, yes. She does expect to see the slight brunette kick their neanderthal asses. And if they double-team the other woman, the good doctor might just throw down, herself.
The soldiers depart the ring, and grin at the pair of intel ops. 'Ty' starts his climb into the ring, and immediately begins to take a casual 'stroll' around the ring, his gaze on Hayes. The other is on the floor, though he's right at ringside, a shit-eating-grin plastered on his face. At her taunt, of course he can't help himself, and hauls himself onto the mat. He doesn't move while his partner circles, however.
"Mud? For a mud wresting contest, you have to be wearing--"
"Ty!"
Damn it.
One of the trainers, an off-duty Chief, steps up behind Kristin, and he keeps his voice low. "Ten bucks on the girl," is said right around ear-level. "Though I know that you're not stupid enough to take the bet."
"Whatever I want to be wearing," Hayes finishes regardless of the outside intervention.
It's always curious to see how quickly people would crawl out of the shadows to start placing bets, or those merely desiring a show in the hopes of something memorable. Competition has a way of bringing out all sides of a person, whether while participating or spectating.
Two on one. So be it. Sarah flexes her head from one side to the next then drops into one of the SHIELD-trained combat stances, guard high and center of gravity low.
"Your pal doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm," she tells Ty, taking note of how one actually starts to move while the other stands around looking smug. "He get his ass reamed a little too thoroughly the last time he went up against a chick?"
There's certainly room for a fourth opponent on the mat. In the meantime she's keeping her attention so purely focused upon Ty, drifting across the mat in tune to his motions, that she bides her time until she's close enough to his still partner to try and sweep his feet right out from under him. Gotta watch out for those attacks of opportunity!
Kit snirks at the Chief. "Hayes for the win," she replies. Translation: No. Not stupid enough to take the sucker bet.
She moves toward the mat. "Seriously, guys?" the Major says, flipping a hand lightly. "Two on one? You guys are pricks." But, she knew that. She looks at Hayes. "You up for it?"
'Cause while Kit isn't a frontline fighter, she can hold her own. Though, to be fair, she didn't get the call sign 'Peacekeeper' for picking fights. No. Not a brawler. Simply tenacious.
The one who stands quietly as Ty circles is watching. He's studying what Hayes does under various circumstances in order to time his own feint. His attention flickers towards the Major when she chimes in regarding a fourth, which (he'll swear!) is the time that the brunette bitch-shell goes after him. The sweep is good, and Jeffers is down, though not for long. Not by a longshot.
Landing heavily initially, Jeffers gains his footing once again by twisting around in a shoulder roll. He remains low, however, his own style a little different than the heavier style that is preferred by Ty in that he balances his weight carefully, never putting too much on one side or the other so should another sweep be attempted, nothing catastophic could happen.
For Ty's part? The moment Hayes goes after Jeffers, he's right there behind her, ready to put a hold on her shoulder to yank her backwards even as she's finishing up her sweep.
Chief leans over and gives the R&D doctor a nudge with his elbow. "I think you can help her put down those young bucks. Help teach them what it means to be working with the finest."
To Sarah's credit, Kit's question doesn't distract her from the matter at hand. "Be my guest, sister."
That she gets tangled up with Ty and gets hauled away from Jeffers, that mistake is all hers.
"Already gettin' grabby?" she growls through her teeth a moment before throwing her head back, trying to catch Ty in the face, or chin, or some other jarring location to try and break free of the hold. This isn't somewhere she'd like to be by the time Jeffers can get a free shot in. Clearly he's got some moves (and he should, he's SHIELD!) Kit's inclusion onto the mat is timed well, though she's prepping to send a foot up between the guy's legs if she can't get away from Ty in time.
"What's this grappling shit, we here to fight or cuddle!"
When Ty grabs Hayes and sets Jeffers up for the cheap shot, Kit moves in swiftly. Jeffers is smart, in that he keeps low and well-distributed. He's also not using a lot of momentum. At least, not at first. It's when he moves to actually take the shot Ty offers that Kit slides in between him and the woman, using her body as a fulcrum to send him lunging past the other pair and onto his back.
The engineer spins on her heel to face him again as he snaps up to his feet, settling down into her own low, well-distributed stance. She looks at him, smiles winsomely and flicks two fingers at him to beckon him closer.
There's a timely and efficient interception from the blonde woman, sparing Sarah a more direct hit when she's less able to interfere. Ty's forgetting one detail while grappling the incognito mutant, however. Unlike with the boys, women are given some extra useful tools meant to break free if someone bigger than they are gets them pinned.
The back of her head hits the side of Ty's jaw, jarring but overall a minimal effect. It's only the start. The heel of her foot drives down on top of one of his, her arms coming together in front to lock onto pressure points, breaking his hold, giving her a chance to latch onto one of his wrists.
Grab, turn, twist.
Ty hits the mat hard, leaving Sarah standing beside him with a determined glare set upon her face. "Get the hell up, we're not done."
It seems that Kit's got the other guy caught up quite nicely. She'll just pretend to not pay them so much attention.
There's a lament Kit often hears after skirmish bouts. Usually drifting out of the men's locker room. It's always something about how women fight dirty. It's not true, of course. Not as far as she's concerned. As soldiers and agents, they're trained to use every advantage they have against their opponents. The guys are simply used to that being mass and reach. Therefore, the woman must think outside the box. If speed and physics can't be their allies, they're hosed.
But, again, Jeffers is a smart man. And, despite what got him into this fight, he's not inclined to underestimate his opponent -- any opponent, regardless of race or gender. There's a reason the man is still alive and that he makes such a good field op, after all.
He and Kit circle cautiously for another moment or two before they clash again. The blows they exchange are fast and sharp. Both of them are coming out of this one bruised. He dodges her kick, she ducks his swing. He closes to grapple, she wheels back to keep him off-balance. Lunge, pivot, twist. Kit skids across the mat on her side when Jeffers clips her and sends her crashing down. Her legs snap up and she wraps her feet around his head, pulling him down, too, where her thighs can squeeze his neck and her feet pin his arms.
It's not long before Ty's back up and in the spar. Much like with his pal Jeffers, Ty and Sarah are quickly engaged in a more frantic, more calculated dance of blocks and blows. Sarah's not afraid to block some of the hits directly with her forearms or shins, letting the sting of irritated nerves help drive her determination.
He's just a guy, what does she have to worry about?
With the flying of limbs comes the flying of grunts and insults, the two apparently having a rivalry between them despite having only arrived on the Argus a few weeks ago. Both give their hits and take their hits, neither looking ready to back down.
Not until there's a distraction. From Jeffers, while he's busy dancing with Kit. "That's still a great ass, Hayes!"
In that moment Sarah turns as if to take Jeffers on next.
An instant later her world momentarily goes black as Ty drives his fist square into her face. She takes a half-step stumble then collapses onto her side, blood already oozing out of a fresh cut.
As shoulder strikes mat a whistle gets blown, a training officer quickly putting the brakes on the four operative match. "Alright, hold it, that's enough!"
He looks rather ticked off.
"Daniels! Get a medic in here. Rest of you clear the mat!"
When the whistle blows, Kit and Jeffers disengage. Probably a good thing, really. Jeffers was near to the point of having to slap the mat to signal defeat -- before he passed out, himself. Now, at least, they can call it a 'draw'.
Kit isn't a medical doctor, however, so when the medics are called, the best she can do is step out of the way, retreating back to the Chief to grab the gun case she left with him.
Sounds should probably be a little more distant for someone that's sporting a brand new concussion. A normal human would be in a bad way if they were in Sarah's position.
In Mystique's position, she still hears everything perfectly well. The whispered commentary from Ty and Jeffers, laughing at their victory despite Jeffers getting in trouble at the very end. There's the grumble of people who happened to lose the bet and knowing commentary from those that happened to win it.
Sarah lies there on her back, staring up at the lights overhead, the faintest of smirks touching her blood-stained lips.
It's all in the art of manipulation.
Category:Log