[B-Deck] "Team Time"

[Cruz, J.]

(Sorry it so short, can't come up with anything with this hangover)

The moment of sheer happiness that Cruz and Wilkas were sharing was completely destroyed by Lieutenant Durant. The man had the worst timing of any officer the Staff Sergeant had ever witnessed. He contemplated staying silent and hoping the man would leave. However the man was persistent and wouldn't leave unless Cruz was with him. Cruz looked into Wilkas' eyes for a few more seconds before giving her a very passionate kiss. "If you want to leave wait here for five mikes after we leave to make sure we don't come back for anything." Cruz breathed into Wilkas' ear after he broke away from the kiss. It was with a heavy heart that the man got up from his bed and shambled around a corner to the door.

Unlocked and opening the door, Cruz growled in an irritated voice to the distracted platoon leader, "For the love of our Lord Bruce Campbell! I thought the boots weren't supposed to be in until tomorrow." before he walking with the man down to the hanger bay.

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas almost melted when Cruz kissed her passionately, her eyes fluttering shut. She didn't want it to end, however if they didn't well Durant would find out about them and... All of this, everything that she and Cruz possessed would be gone forever more. Cruz moved towards the door, Grace elected to hide behind the wall to make sure that Durant couldn't spot her. She however was concentrating on being quiet, Grace failed to notice the metal bin on the floor which her booted foot. It crashed to the floor with a rather loud clang that Durant would have needed to be death not to hear. She cursed under her breath in Russian, "говно." Before pressing herself against the wall and checking out her uniform.

Well... Here's hoping that Durant didn't hear that. She ran a hand through her hair sorting it out making herself look a little less flustered.

Grace corrected to her uniform before picking the bin back up that she had knocked over. She tried to make it look like it had been an accident but in all reality it was kinda hard to pull it off, especially considering the sneaking. She put her cap back on and tried to pretend that she was calm, collected and nothing had happened before the LT's rather unexpected arrival at the door. 

The man had the worst timing ever, in the history of all man kind. 

She felt her heart pound in her rib cage, Grace remembered feeling this way when her parents came into her room just after she had kissed her boyfriend when she was a teenager. Of course that was a long time ago and Durant happened to not be her father, but for all intense and purposes at the present he probably counted as the father figure since he had the power to end this relationship should he ever find out about it.

In fact any officer could, but that happened to be just another reason as to way it was a secret. No one could know.

[Durant, M.]

Durant stood on the opposite end of the closed door, impatiently waiting for the Staff Sergeant to answer it. There were things that needed to be handled, and he wasn't at all appreciative of having to wait considering the gravity of the situation. As the commander of the platoon, he needed to be present when the batch of replacements arrived. So did Cruz, solely because he was the platoon sergeant, and Durant's right-hand man.

If the replacements arrived and neither of them were standing there waiting for them, it would give off a terrible first impression. He could already hear Captain Flannigan scolding him for being late to such an important event. He would never hear the end of it.

And neither would Cruz if he didn't hurry up.

The sound of something metal crashing inside the room drew Durant from his thoughts. He arched his brow and stared at the door, wondering what could be going on behind the door. Maybe he's rushing to make himself look presentable, Durant thought.

The door opened a moment later. The Lieutenant's eyes fell on Staff Sergeant Cruz, whom seemed somewhat agitated. The outburst that came next seemed to solidify that point, and he charged out of the room and started on his way toward the hangar. Durant turned and jogged to get up beside him, then slowed his pace to a brisk walk.

"You were told that yesterday, Staff Sergeant," Durant said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're ready, and we should arrive in the hangar before they do."

[Davis, E.]

"I wouldn't have expected another answer, Corporal," Davis said with a conspiratorial smirk. "Let's go show these clowns how hand to hand combat works."

Davis opened the hatch to the gym, glad to find none of the lower enlisted had bailed. There were only eight of them, each team having taken losses aboard the Templar. Davis was down one, Faust down two, and Skip missing his SDM. Davis took his head count quickly, trying to figure out the best way to make this interesting. It wasn't enough just to train. No, he needed to raise the stakes. There was certainly not much to gamble with. Credits didn't mean much at this point with nothing to spend them on, and while pride was always on the line it didn't make very good currency. Then he remembered the duty roster. Prime gambling material.

"Alright marines, start stretching. Lose the tops and covers and get ready for some good training," Davis said, walking back to the hatch and locking it. This was not something he wanted to have walked in on. "Some quick ground rules. No blows or kicks. This isn't live. We are working on holds and submissions. There are duty roster spots on the line. Winners get their pick of jobs. Losers have to trade when the roster comes out. Let alone pride. Avery, you've got third team's Sanders first. Keep it clean."

The two lower enlisted men met at the center and shook hands before Davis gave them the call to start. Sanders was giving away at least ten pounds to Avery, but he was faster, slipping out of the first hold before Avery could lock him in. With a quick move he was behind him dragging Avery over the top and down to the mat. It was there that the bigger man finally started to get himself back together. Avery manged to muscle out of the hold, turning it around on Sanders. The two rolled, shifted, and struggled for another minute before Avery slipped his arm around Sanders' neck in a sleeper hold.

"Out," Davis called quickly. One, his team had a win, but two, he didn't want to risk Sanders. "Furby is up next. Faust, who does second team have to handled what we've got."

Davis shot Furby a knowing grin. It wouldn't end well if Faust elected to put herself in, and Davis had made it clear in his initial count that she was included in the eight. He folded his arms, letting them all mull over what could happen next. Females in the Corps often were looked down on for being physically lesser, but he didn't think Faust was one of them. She also was one of them who might use that as fuel to punish whatever opponent she had. Maybe it was all a smoke show, but Davis was sure that he didn't want to find out.

Furby should be very scared right now.

[Faust, M.]

"Normally well... I would say me but today I think the honour of beating Furby will go to Robin." The female marine whose last name she called out looked briefly stunned, Faust usually put herself on the list of people involved in the combat. As she began to make her way over to the centre, ready to fight Furby, Faust who was standing near Davis looked around for Mason and since she couldn't spot him declared. "I know who I am going to fight." She informed Davis her tone friendly but clear that she wanted to fight knew who she wanted to fight in the ring, none of the others would do.

Faust happened to be at the very least among the best hand to hand fighters in the platoon, yet she excelled at boxing. Davis meanwhile had gone for essentially choke holds and grapples approach for this fight, not Faust's favourite but it was okay.

This did not amuse Faust. However, she believed she could win it because whatever you believe in your own heart, then your fifty percent right. Victory was possible, she was slightly more flexible, would have been a lot more if it weren't for her injury. That had to count for something. Robin originally had been poor in hand to hand, something Faust intensely disliked about her fellow marine. She disliked it enough that she gave her fellow marine lessons until she improved dramatically. Now... Well now it was time for Robin to put those lessons into practice. Second Fire Team needed a win. 

Faust grinned, her eyes holding that weird sparkle that Faust seemed to have when she found herself being excited by the prospect of something. It was strangely akin to the grin a girl gave her boyfriend when he suggestion sparring with her so that she could learn self defence. Not that Faust needed to learn any, even out of uniform she could be on scary lady. Part of Faust still hoped to meet someone meaningful in the UNSC, that was after all how her mother and father met, he was a Marine, she a pilot... 

Things escalated from there...

She decided to spare poor Furby, no today's target would be Mason he could be calling the shots but most of the marines assembled would hear her pick him out specifically to fight against her, when he arrived. He would not be able to refuse without making himself appear weak. Her smile grew, Faust should cross out scary and instead write, cunning, as cunning as a fox who has just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Cambridge University, or perhaps Scarily Cunning. 

Robin was slightly shorter than Furby, but she happened to be very fast and rather light on her feet. It was why Faust made her the point woman for her fire team, those sort of skills could be the difference between life and death when hunting down rebels. 

[Mason, I.]

“Time to have some cigars and bourbon,” Mason said with a grin, glancing from the supplies laying on the table to Stone. He reached over and grabbed two cigars and unwrapped the cellophane from them. The rich and pleasant smell increased threefold. Mason held one up to his nose and breathed in deeply - the aroma once again making his mouth moist with anticipation.

He pulled out a small crystal ashtray out of his hygiene bag and set it on the table. The bottom of the ashtray had a petrified wood stamp on it. The stamp was the ancient Mason coat of arms; a small merman adorned the crest, a leafy wreath surrounded it, a knights head armor was on the helm, and a single lion was imprinted on the shield. The most important part of the coat of arms, in Mason’s opinion, was the family motto; it was an old Latin phrase - Dum spiro spero. It’s translation was thus, “While I have breath I have hope.”

Mason never spoke of this, but he had a tattoo of this exact coat of arms right in the middle of his chest - as well as quite a few other tattoos that were unviewable underneath his clothing. He purposely chose to shower at times when no one else was around to avoid anyone seeing them and asking about them. In his later years, he found himself less eager to tell people about himself - it felt as though it was too much effort to let anyone get close since it would hurt more when they died. There was a bittersweet comfort in keeping his distance from everyone.

The crystal was one of a few family heirlooms Mason still had in his possession, this one dated back over a millennia - from when the first of his family settled in ancient England after the Norman Conquest in the 11th century. There was a date on the bottom that either said 1366 AD or 1566 AD. Mason could never tell since there was a chip on the top part of the second digit.

Since the beginning of Mason’s lineage, these heirlooms were created out of the rarest and most precious materials they could find. They were continuously made with each early generation and then spread out as the families split off their separate ways - mainly to throughout western Europe and the Americas at that time. During the early years, their numbers continued to grow as well as the relics they collected and created.

That began to change as the wars grew worse and diseases spread wide. With the onslaught of the second outbreak of the bubonic plague (as well as following outbreaks in London and surrounding areas), their numbers started dwindling. The remaining family members would inherit their fallen brethren’s possessions. This consolidation continued throughout various revolutions, to include the American Revolution, and civil wars. Earth’s first World War had minimal effect, since the majority of his lineage was residing in North America at that time, which only partook in the last stage of the war.

Although, according to family records, one particular group of Masons had migrated to Russia and changed their names to Kamensky (a variant of the Russian noun for mason) in 1901 - when Russia was in the midst of industrialization. Correspondence between the Kamensky’s in Russia and the Mason’s in Europe was slow but steady throughout WWI but stopped after the fall of the Romanov family. According to the last few letters, the patriarch of the Kamensky family, whom was an avid supporter of Joseph Lenin, was in the midst of planning a Bolshevik revolt. These letters were coded using an old family method. The conclusion of these letters was that Kamensky had partook in raiding the Kremlin and forming the Red Army, but died in the process. There was no further evidence other than these letters, so the family records have a connotation next to this entry - stating that it is unvalidated.

The majority of the Mason’s remaining in Europe perished with the conquest of the Third Reich under the control of Adolph Hitler. The European Masons were prominently Jewish at that time and hunted by the Nazi’s. The majority of their precious possessions were stolen and destroyed as well. A few diary entries were later recovered, detailing the horrors of Auschwitz and other such camps. With that, the vast majority of the remaining Masons resided in North America.

Afterwards, their numbers continued to dwindle as the trend of having smaller and smaller families became mainstream until finally it was once again just a handful of Masons. Isaiah’s father, Marvin, was once in possession of approximately ten percent of all known Mason heirlooms and relics. While this may seem like a small portion, it was in fact an amount worth a fortune. With Marvins death, it became Isaiah’s fortune. The Mason’s were once worth more during the twenty first century, when the currency they possessed was worth billions of United States Dollars. However, as the value of the dollar plummeted, all that remained was the net worth of their tangible possessions.

“I assume you have some bourbon for the occasion?” Mason asked and then paused as he studied Stone's face. "You're looking pretty pale, you alright?"

[Furby, J.]

Furby followed Avery through the maze of corridors, First Team leading the way to the ship's gymnasium. Along the way he played through the many different ways that things could go horribly wrong for him since Davis had decided to pull the ultimate dick move and include First Squad's sister teams in their training. Most notably being Second Team, led by the utterly terrifying Corporal Faust.

Her size and beauty were all a distraction in his mind. Clever ploys to make one believe they were dealing with a push oved. Something the Corporal was far from. Her attitude alone was enough to scare the shit out of even the toughest guy, and lately she had been grumpier than usual. Under normal circumstances he would make jokes in poor taste, such as that her tampon must not have been working or she was experiencing some freak period.

However, he valued his life, and so he kept those jokes to himself.

"You just had to open your mouth, huh, bro?" Avery asked him in a low voice.

"I don't wanna hear it, man," Furby shot back.

"You better hope Faust doesn't participate," the Lance Corporal said, shaking his head with a grin. "'Cuz that woman looks like she's on the war path, man."

While Furby tended not to enjoy admitting that he was intimidated by likes of a woman, especially considering the fact that he was a huge jock in his school years and generally had a reputation to uphold, he could make an exception in this scenario. Anyone who said they weren't afraid of Faust were definitely liars. Or Stone. That guy was probably scarier than anybody he'd ever met in his life.

"Yeah, well, hopefully the Corporal won't let her join in," he said, trying to sound hopeful. "Y'know, with the injuries and all."

Just as he had finished saying that, the group reached the gym. Furby and the others stepped inside and broke off into their own groups. They spent the time waiting for the two corporals to show up by chatting amongst themselves. As soon as the pair entered, Davis immediately began barking orders. Furby removed his cammie blouse and let it fall to the floor, and then began stretching. He stretched his arms first and then moved on to his legs, plopping onto the floor to do so.

Once everyone was finished, Corporal Davis announced the first pairing. Avery and Sanders. Jay watched as they stepped onto the mat, and then began to wrestle around. At first it seemed that Sanders had the advantage, but Avery quickly recovered and put a stop to that.

"Yeah," Furby exclaimed proudly. "Get some! First Team!"

A second later Davis declared Sanders out, and the pair shook hands and stepped off the mat. Then, the moment of truth came. Davis asked Corporal Faust who she wanted to go next, and he volunteered Furby to be First Team's contender. Anticipation and nervous anxiety began to well up in Furby. It was very likely Faust would choose herself to go against him, and if she did, he already knew he'd be a goner.

She picked Private Robin. Jay heaved a heavy sigh of relief, and wiped a bead of sweat away from his forehead. He glanced at the shorter and smaller woman as she stepped out of her group and approached the mat. He recalled that she wasn't quite proficient at hand-to-hand fighting, and it was then that he knew that he had a chance to win this.

The PFC marched onto the mat and readied himself for the match ahead. He sized up his opponent and keopt careful watch over where her eyes were focused. He would try to predict her moves before she executed them. "Furby, ready," he announced, and awaited the order to begin.

[Stone, T.]

Stone brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the tiredness and sudden exhaustion that he now felt. Truthfully, it had been quite a long time since he had experienced a dream that vivid, and possibly even longer since he'd dreamed at all. He wasn't quite sure what had spurned the dream, but he was certain that he would rather do without them. There were moments of his past he chose to bury.

And he wanted them to remain six feet under.

The voice of Corporal Davis attracted his attention. He looked up to see the curtain falling back into place as the NCO left to take his Marines to the gym for training. The Corporal's words registered in his mind a moment later, and he nodded thankfully. Without his squad occupying the berthing area, he no longer had to worry about the smell of the cigars disturbing the others.

Or causing someone to want to rat on the pair of grizzled, veteran NCOs. Not that he believed for a minute that any of his Marines had the balls (or guts, in the females case) to do it. As it stood, outside of the NCO and "O" Clubs, alcohol was strictly forbidden on UNSC ships and posts. Likewise, smoking was strictly forbidden as well.

Not that people like Mason and Stone cared. While Thomas understood those regulations in theory, he still didn't agree with them in practice. He'd given over twenty years of his life to the Marine Corps. He was a combat veteran of both the Insurrection and this long, desperate war. He had seen things that would break a weaker man, and yet he kept on truckin'.

So, in his mind, he was owed a little leeway when it came to more minor military regulations. In his ignorance spurned from youth, he would have shunned the idea of ignoring regulations for selfish reasons. However, the younger Stone hadn't been through what the older version had. He hadn't yet learned that his home world had been practically destroyed by a genocidal hegemony of religious fanatic aliens, or fought in his home world for five long years, watching good people get cut down in brutal firefights with an enemy they hadn't yet learned to understand.

The younger Stone, in retrospect, had been one lucky son of a bitch. Thom envied his younger self, and even sometimes wished he could go back to that version of himself. But, that version of him was long dead and gone. Now, he was a shell of his former self. He only lived for the purpose of fighting the Covenant; it was the only thing he was good at anymore. He was totally and irreparably institutionalized into the Marine Corps culture and mindset.

He couldn't even imagine what being a civilian again would be like. The thought terrified him, honestly. He wasn't built to sit on his ass all day behind a desk, or have no one to fight. Men like him needed an enemy to fight, or they were lost and confused. Totally out of their element.

The voice of Mason brought Stone out of his depressing introspection, and he looked up at the man. The question that followed caught him somewhat off guard.

He decided to ignore it.

"'Course I got bourbon, Sarn't. The hell do ya take me fer? Some kind of boot?" He said that with a grin, and then leaned over to reach his footlocker and punched in the code to unlock it. He opened the lid and moved a pile of neatly folded clothes, revealing a bottle of circa 2482 Harvest Ice Bourban.

It was a bottle that his father had given him shortly before he'd shipped off for boot camp. His father had only opened it once, and Thomas had only found two occasions in which he'd opened it.

The day he came home from boot camp, and the day he discovered Harvest had fallen. So, the bottle was roughly a little over half full. The beauty of Harvest Ice Bourban, besides its cool, sweet taste, was that it had a high alcohol content.

It didn't take much to get fucked up.

Stone took hold of the bottle and stood up. He marched over to the table where Mason was sitting, and sat across from him. He set the bottle down between them and grinned. "Hope ya can handle this stuff," he said. "Cuz it gets better 'n stronger with age."

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace Wilkas waited a good five minutes or so after Durant and Cruz had departed before finally exiting the room. She righted the bin as she left, trying to make his room look neater, she doubled checked her uniform, making sure that it was perfect. The last thing Grace wanted now was to be caught by roving officers for her uniform being a mess, that would be a big hint as to what she had been up to. She decided to pick up the pace, she needed to reach the gym before her absence became something of actual concern, rather than a minor annoyance. 

She rushed through the corridors, stopping off briefly in order to ditch her jacket and parade cap in her room. Grace would sort them out later right now she needed to get to the gym before a selection of NCOs decided to give her various 'interesting' exercises which would probably be designed to kill her, or at least warn her not to be late again.
Yet she did have an excuse, provided Durant didn't mention otherwise, Wilkas could say easily that she had been talking to Cruz about things, a counselling session. It would be all to easy to say that they lost track of time, but Cruz left before she did, a watchful or suspicious marine could inquire around and uncover the truth. 

Eventually, after a brief detour because she got lost and asking someone in a uniform for directions, who by the she had to salute several times till the officer was satisfied, he even threatened to send a report to her Lieutenant complaining about the apparent lack of discipline displayed by members of his platoon. Despite this she finally managed to find the gym. Sufficiently late enough that any drill instructors would have either tried to shoot her or given her a selections of punishments to perform all the while under their strict supervision.

"Sorry I am late I got lost and a counselling session ran longer than expected." Wilkas said as she entered the gym, sounding rather breathless but her eyes held a glimmer of life that had been rather absent of late, except when she had been seeing Cruz. Her 'counselling' sessions seemed to be taking effect, boosting her morale which being honest had been rather low. 
Still now she had to face the wrath of several various NCOs and no doubt Durant when he read up on a angry report, since Grace would have been the only member of his platoon unaccounted for. She would clearly be the guilty culprit. 

[Faust, M.]

Faust's spotted the late Wilkas as she finally entered the gym, she happened to very late. "Do you think we should put a halt to this for a moment for Private Wilkas to explain how late she is? And why?" She glanced at Davis before looking back at Wilkas. If she had a few stripes higher she probably would have chewed the private out without waiting to hear the reason as to why. 
Maybe Wilkas should have to fight Furby instead of Robin? Though she expected that the Private could win, she didn't think that either of them where very good fighters, well not as good as she was. 

Robin didn't look like she was ready to fight Furby, however she would have to get used to fighting short ranged. It happened to be common knowledge that to be part of Faust's fire team you needed to be good in close combat and expect to charge the enemy at any given opportunity. 
Michelle seemed to relish assaulting the enemy, fighting face to face against any enemy, no matter how terrifying. In her old unit, they had specialised in assaults, it was one of the main reasons as to why they suffered so many casualties. 

It was actually very bad to fight the Covenant at short range, particularly Elites armed with swords. Faust however being naturally aggressive was drawn to fight in close range like a moth to a candle flame. 
She sighed, she had lost many good friends in the short range battles and assaults, particularly Hill 259 on New Madagascar. That had been a bloody battle, open ground, charging up hill across against a prepared enemy.

Anyone could see that would result in terrible losses, terrible, terrible losses. It had been the battle that had almost wiped on the entirety of her Division. The hill needed to be retaken and her Division had been the only one available to take it. Apparently there was a monument on the hill now to all of the dead marines, it looked similar to an ancient monument to a battle in World War 2. Five marines raising the battered banner of 712th marine Division surrounded by torn alien dead.
They had taken the hill, yet Faust remembered in the aftermath of the battle looking exhausted down the slopes of the hill, seeing countless unmoving marines lying on the blood soaked mud, as if tossed there like the toys of a careless child.
They had won, but at a horrifyingly heavy cost. 

[Davis, E.]

"Private Wilkas, I know you were told we had training today," Davis said, stepping out in front of Robins and Furby. "You have your counseling form? I'm not going to interfere with another NCO, but I would expect the same courtesy."

Davis paused for a few seconds to let her produce the document. He wasn't pleased that she admitted to getting lost as well. It may have been true, but they had covered navigating the ship several times since they had been thawed earlier in the week. And the gym wasn't that far from the billets. When she still had nothing he cut her off, that disgusted NCO look plastered on his face.

"Just quit Private," Davis nearly barked when she still hadn't produced the counseling form. "De-blouse and get on the mat for Furby. You can fight Robins, since you can't seem to get your ass down here on time. If you can figure out how to not lose, you are free to go. If you can't, we'll discuss your tardiness in another counseling session. I would wager this one will make you late for many things."

He was frustrated now. How hard was it to have your shit together? If you came from a counseling session, would you not have your paperwork together? And why would you be getting a counseling session if it was already made apparent there would be some type of training? To say he was hot under the collar would be an understatement, and Davis was now really starting to get angry.

"You're up with Scoggins after this," Davis said, turning on Furby. His eyes were starting to smolder. "You fucking lose, and you'll be joining Wilkas for that counseling session! Corporal Faust, Corporal Skip, it'll be you two against me when we finish. You might want to take some time to figure out how to work together."

Davis was now in pounce mode, the nice, helping NCO having taken the back seat to a rabid dog who was pacing around looking for blood. Rather than standing and refereeing the two women, he was now pacing around them, yelling encouragement and discouragement in equal measures, calling out weaknesses for both sides and generally adding to the stress level of everyone in the room. His 6'2" frame was hunched over like a very large buzzard who was waiting to start picking carcasses clean.

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas searched for a counselling form on her person but she didn't have one with her, she and Cruz hadn't exactly put the time aside in which to write one down. Well Durant might not get a chance to chew her out when the officer sent his report, it seemed that Davis wanted to do it for him. She opened her mouth to explain to him why she didn't have one but he cut her off. Well shit...
She did as he instructed her seeing as she had nothing in which to defend herself here, her only defence lay in the form of Cruz who happened to be with the LT. In short, Grace felt like a soon to be very dead duck. 

She face Robin, swallowing nervously. This fight might go either way, she was stronger and slightly larger than she was, but Grace believed she was faster. At least she wasn't being made to fight Faust, she had heard stories from some of the other platoon members, stories which she possessed no desire to find out the truth to. 
Grace's stomach churned restlessly with worry, she was a terrible liar and if asked for the truth she fully doubted that she could disguise the truth as to why she was late and the truth about the counselling  sessions. 
Wilkas didn't want him to get into trouble because of her, she couldn't help that they had feelings for one another. But she highly doubted that any military court would understand that. 

Still one problem at a time, beat Furby and perhaps get some form of back up. Fail and Grace could easily imagine the various NCOs and officers wanting to know the real reason. If only they knew that already one of them knew the truth, it amused her greatly yet she couldn't tell them.
They couldn't know, they mustn't know. 
Everything would go to hell if they found out particularly if one or two of them where sticklers for the rules. She knew Faust wasn't but judging by the gleam in her eyes, she was clearly insulted by both Wilkas being late and Davis having her partner with someone to fight him. Okay so no help would come from there. 

She adopted a fighting stance and watched Robin studying her for weakness. In a way she reminded her of one of the instructors back at basic, however he was an extra foot taller, ten years older and had enough muscle on him that a tank would think twice before taking him on in a fight. He had been the camp's close combat instructor which regularly put at least two trainees in the hospital. 
She recalled her training and prayed that she would win this fight. "Ready." Her voice failed to come out confident, brave and ready for a battle, instead she produced more of a squeak rather than a defiant roar. 
Well... Time to fight. 

[Faust, M.]

Faust glared at Davis, if looks could kill Davis would have been reduced to a smouldering pile of ash with just his dog tags left glowing white hot. "Davis with respect you would be better off with assistance not me. Perhaps you should ask for some Medics to be present to clean up what ever is left off you?" Yeah to say Faust had been insulted by his suggestion of her working with someone against him would have been an understatement. She was angry, she took it as a personal insult against her, any chance of Faust not going a hundred percent vanished with his comment. 

Now she intended to go full out on Davis, she would hold nothing back. 

Faust nodded once at Robin who understood the signal as now it was time to fight. Robin charged at Wilkas who blocked the blow and struck back with an open palm knocking Robin back. Now, Wilkas launched her own attack but Robin, having been trained by Faust swept the legs out from under her opponent and attempted to pin the other girl down. Yet Wilkas it seemed wasn't going to go down with a fight. Wilkas' bridge her hips and flipped Robin off of her flinging her too her right. 
"Robin do not fail me!" Faust yelled shooting Davis a scathing glance almost as if daring him to say something, anything. 

Robin found herself pinned by Wilkas briefly for a few seconds who had managed to leap upon her before she could recover fully. Yet she copied the same trick that Wilkas had performed, but didn't fling her. Instead she grabbed hold of her shirt and so as Wilkas was knocked off of her, Robin was brought up.
She pinned down Wilkas who though she struggled and resisted, was unable to free herself from Robin. She had the Radio Operator pinned, victory went to Faust's fireteam for that round. 

"Robin wins!" Faust declared enthusiastically as Robin got off of Wilkas, helping her up. Robin looked pleased with herself, she won a fight, more importantly she won the honour of not having to face a unhappy Faust if she had lost the battle.
Wilkas moved away from the mat, looking a bit battered, bruised and dishevelled but otherwise okay.
  

[Furby, J.]

Furby was ready, and he'd already assumed the warrior stance when Wilkas barged in and garnered the attention of practically everyone in the room, himself included. She looked somewhat disheveled and more than a little nervous. Jay's eyes trailed over to Corporal Davis, and he immediately realized she had all the right in the world to be scared.

It was rare to see anything but a happy-go-lucky look plastered to Davis's stout appearance. That look was totally absent here, and the longer it took Wilkas to procure the appropriate documentation for her supposed counseling session, the more visible the NCO's anger became. Eventually he cut her off before she could provide an excuse, and ordered the RTO to fight Robin in place of Furby.

Jayson glanced back at Robin for a moment before stepping off the mat, allowing Private Wilkas to take his place. He wanted to whisper a word of encouragement to her, but knew Davis would likely see it and turn his anger onto him. So instead he merely nodded at her as he passed by, and fell in line beside Avery.

The threat of losing to Scoggins was not lost on Furby, and he risked a wayward glance in the man's direction and gulped. Scoggins was a hefty Marine who spent a great deal of time working out in his free time. He was no where near the size of Davis, but he at least weighed a buck ninety soaking wet.

Scoggins locked eyes with him and flashed him a cocky smile, as if silently telling the PFC he was a goner. In retaliation, Jay flipped him the bird and looked away, his eyes falling on Wilkas and Robin as they initiated their fight. He watched the two wrestle around, trying desperately to one up each other.

Jay leaned in close to Avery, a grin on his face. "Dude, is this the hottest thing you've seen this deployment or is it just me?"

The machine gunner chuckled and nodded his head. "Hell yeah, man," he said quietly. "I could watch this shit aaaallll day."

Furby laughed and watched as Robin suddenly took control of the fight. The Marine pinned Wilkas down and made it so she couldn't move, no matter how hard she struggled against her. Avery turned his head to Furby and said, "Man, I'm savin' that image for later." Jay looked back at him and noticed the sardonic grin glued to his features, and instantly knew what he meant.

"You better go to the Head and do that shit, cuz if you get anything anywhere near my rack I'll kill you."

Avery laughed. "Yeah, yeah, keep talkin'. Ain't that how we ended up here in the first place?"

Furby shut his mouth and said nothing.

Avery had a point, after all.

Corporal Faust declared Robin the winner of the fight and the woman walked triumphantly off of the mat. Wilkas looked defeated, and more than a little scared at the reprisal she was promised to receive from Davis. Jayson felt bad for her, but at the same time he was glad that it was her and not him that had to put up with an extremely hot under the collar farm boy corporal. Although, if his spar with Scoggins happened to go south, he would more than likely be joining her for the IT Davis was surely to be dishing out.

And he really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

[Davis, E.]

Between the two Corporals yelling at (there was no way this could be construed as cheering), the intensity level in the gym had ratcheted up a ton. Someone at the door would have never guessed there were only nine marines in the gym. The fact that Faust was getting butthurt at the fact that Davis tried to make it a fair fight didn't make Davis any calmer. When she called Robins the winner, which she was, Davis standing over Wilkas, still in the same mode he had been in before.

"Wilkas, if you can't figure out how to get somewhere on time, you're going to have a very short life! Now, go over by the wall and think about this for a while in the front leaning rest position. I'm sure you could use a rest after getting your ass kicked. MOVE!"

Davis didn't wait long before he gave Chip the nod to send Scoggins in and then turned on Furby. His tone didn't change and he advanced on him.

"And you, smartass. Let's see if you can actually back up you alligator mouth. You see your fellow marine over there? You'll get to join her for extra PT if you can't. In fact, I would put my money on him. Five credits says you'll be peeling potatoes!"

By this point, Davis was nearly on top of Furby. He had blown off enough steam to be level headed, but he couldn't drop it now. It was something of a ruse though. What actually looked intimidating was a ploy to get close enough to give advice.

"He's all stand-up," Davis said in a whisper just loud enough to be heard. "Get his legs, take him down, out work him with speed. Don't let First down."

With that, Davis broke off with a disgusted look, back to his antics and frustration. He stormed back out towards the mat, his entire body oozing frustration. It was only half true now, but even a glance over at Wilkas rekindled the fire. 

"And if you're so god-damned sure of yourself, Corporal," Davis said, looking over at Faust, "You will get your turn straight up, after I fight Chip. Now lets get this shit over with!"