Chow Hall Shenanigans (Junior Marines)

[Furby, J.]

((OOC: The TLs got their own thread, so I'd thought I'd make one for all us lowly Junior Marines to socialize and bond. O'Reilly, you're included, but anyone Corporal on up, stay away lol))

0600 Hours, August 4, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Chow Hall, B-Deck, aboard UNSC Vengeance,
in-slipspace en route to Zeta-Zorata System

Furby stared at the meal that had been slapped upon his tray with mixed emotion. It was a Thursday, and Thursday's special was the Chef's Surprise. The "Surprise," if one wanted to call it that, was a breakfast platter that consisted of eggs over easy, bacon, a ham biscuit, and seasoned pork sausage. All of that sounded great, and normally he would have started to devour the food as soon as he had sat down, but there was something omninous about the name of the meal. "Chef's Surprise" made him wonder what exactly was in the food that has been prepared for him and the rest of the Marines aboard ship.

Generally shipboard chow was a hit-and-miss affair. Sometimes the food was the best he ever tasted, and other times it tasted like seasoned cardboard with a hint of garlic salt. Jayson glanced up at Lance Corporal Avery. The machine gunner forked food into his mouth without hesitation, chewing it with the type of ferocity that one might find from a cheetah devouring it's prey. "Is it good?" he asked.

Avery nodded. "Fuck yeah it's good, bro," he replied enthusiastically. "When is breakfast not good?"

He thought about that for a moment. "You know that shit we ate for breakfast the day before they tossed us into the freezers? Then."

Lance Corporal Avery shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Bruh, we were in the brig that mornin'."

"So?!" Furby rebuttled, incredulous. "Just because we weren't in the chow hall does not mean it wasn't made by the same damn cooks who cook for everybody else. I mean, I'm pretty sure there was spit on my bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit!"

"That's cuz the MAs brought it to us," Avery said, his tone matter-of-fact. "We kinda pissed them off the night before what with kickin' their ass and puttin' twenty-eight of them in sick bay. Or did you forget that?"

"That was a crazy night," Ward interjected reflectively.

Furby shook his head. "My point still stands that breakfast isn't always great," he said with finality.

"Whatever," Avery said, and again, he rolled his eyes.

Jayson shook his head and picked up the spoon-fork from beside his tray. He pointed the pointed-end at one of the sausages and stabbed it into the meat, lifting it up to eye-level. Carefully, he inspected it before deciding it was safe to eat, and placed it in his mouth. He chomped down on the meat and found that it was crisp and juicy, and the seasoning permeated his tongue. It was delicious.

He chewed on the sausage for a few more seconds, reducing it to smaller, more manageable bits, and then swallowed. He felt the remains of the sausage slide down his throat into his stomach. Immediately he set forth on the eggs, slicing them into smaller portions with his spork before tossing the portions into his mouth. This was perhaps the best breakfast he'd had in a while, although that could have been because he was hungrier than he realized. The supplements that the freezers injected into their bodies while they were frozen were not exactly filling, and only meant to really keep the body supplied with the necessary nutrients to survive.

After devouring roughly half his meal, Jayson glanced up and looked down the table. It was practically dominated by the Marines of First Squad, all of them sitting in what would have, in high school, been described as their own little cliques. Some of them he didn't recognize outside of having seen them exit the freezers alongside the rest of the platoon, and that told him they were new. Likely shuttled in while the rest of the company was in stasis.

He glanced at one of the men that sat just a few seats down from him. The Marine wore the dull grey crossbranch fatigues that the rest of the group was wearing, and was extremely pale, with a smooth, plump face like that of a newborn child. He sported the usual high-and-tight that the majority of Marines across the Corps wore, and his face was devoid of even the slightest trace of facial hair.

Furby glanced down at the man's chest. He could barely make out the name inscribed on the Marine's nametape, though the PFC insignias pinned to his collar he could see plain as day. "Hey, Torgate? Torngate? New guy. What's up?"

[Silva, J.]

Silva had seemed to of recovered her appetite. She devoured her meal with relish, apparently not fussed by the quality, though according to her own explanations, the meals the UNSC provided were far better than the rations afforded to the militia division she previously served with. It was a great positive however to see her devour her meals once more. Janet had lost some weight since she received the shocking news of the destruction of her home planet.
She paused for a brief moment to take a sip of her glass of water, returning to devouring her meal. To her it tasted delicious, she simply could not understand why the others were so effected by the quality of the meals.

"The food is always great here." She managed to say, defending the cooks before resuming her feast. Silva said nothing once more, returning to her breakfast. Silva stopped suddenly, swallowing her mouthful wiping her hands on her trousers before pulling a folded picture out of her pocket to stare at. She never told the unit what had happened, the news was spread out to the rest of the platoon through the usual networks, gossips, news channels and such.
Her expression was one of sadness, pain and longing. With a heavy sigh, she carefully refolded the picture before placing it once more in the pocket. tapping it twice to make sure it was in fact in there.

Janet at times still retreated into her own little shell, the somewhat boisterous marine rarely appearing. The war against the Covenant even with her brief action against them, previously felt distant. Until... Well, her home world got turned into a molten ball of glass. Hearing about virtually everyone you know die and not being their to defend or even help them, it hurt.
She could not fool herself or even anyone by pretending to be happy, she had been naive, foolish. She should of stayed on her planet, she should of been there. But she hadn't been.

It was a good thing that she'd eaten, for her appetite swiftly deserted her utterly. Silva decided to listen in to the chatter of her fellow marines. She took another sip of her water. Placing her glass back down on the table.
She could not shake the nagging voices inside her head that she needed to of been back home, that if she had been there, she might of changed the course of the battle. Of course, whether she had been there or not, the fate of the planet would of been the tragic same

[Mihaylov, D.]

Dmitrii had formed himself in the que and step heel stepped his way through the line. It was his habit to do that, at least the first time. One of the little things that made marines look high speed and built a reputation. It only took a week or so to establish a reputation and then you were treated as such. It was this reason that made Edwards such an issue for him. He was going to draw extra attention on the whole team, making it that much harder to fly under the radar. It was a frustrating piece to work through.

The chow hall didn't seem all that different from any other ship in the UNSC. Breakfast for any meal was a safe bet and Dmitrii was glad his first meal here would be safe. He would have been happier with borsch but there wasn't a chef in the UNSC who could make it like his mother. It was perhaps the only thing he missed about home. That and the beaches. And the women. And bonfires on the beach. Apparently there was a lot more he missed than just his Mother's borsch. 

Following Torngate to a table full of marines, he sat down across from the man and started to dig into the french toast sticks that he had only just learned were not actually from france. Who knew? The loudmouth ringleader of the junior enlisted started his tirade about breakfast and chow being suspect. It was typical chow hall banter, and the female a few seats down didn't surprise him with the defence of the navy chefs. What did catch his notice as odd was the fact that the chow hall was only a quarter full and he hadn't seen any marines outside of Oscar Company on the ship. There was also the MA's that stood around the edges of the chow hall watching them like prison guards. 

"Food is fine," Mihaylov said with his approval. "What we do to deserve escort? Food fight last time in chow hall?"

He had to imagine it was something more then that. It was likely attached to the fact they had all been in Cryo. It was rare to not meet one's team first and the fact that they were not allowed meant something major. Dmitrii was sure it was a story worth hearing and first team seemed to be the best option to get it. Especially as they hinted at it in their talks.

[Ward, J.]

Ward chuckled at the conversation between Avery and Furby, the pair lost in the shared memories of what had become known as the "Riot Night." Despite his reservations about it at first, he had to admit it had been a fun night. Unfortunately it had taken a turn for the worst, but that was no one's fault but the bastards in November Company, who could not set aside their injured pride for one night. It was alright, though.

Jon got his payback.

One of the new Marines directed a question their way. Jon remained silent for a moment, waiting to see if either of his teammates were going to acknowledge the Russian. However, it seemed that they were too engrossed in their own conversation to have even heard him. Ward turned to the man who sat not too far away on the opposite side of the table from him, and chuckled. "No, Lance Corporal," he said.

The man, Mihaylov, had caught on to the fact that the entirety of Oscar Company were under the watch of at least three dozen MAs, which was by no means a normal occurrence. Generally the Navy paid the Marines aboard little mind, and it was especially rare for the ship's police force to vest that much interest in them. "We, uhhh... well we kinda had a party in one of the simulator rooms a couple weeks back and it turned pretty ugly towards the end."

"Ward, Ward, Waaard," a painfully familiar voice called out in disappointment. Lance Corporal Sampson suddenly appeared in the seat beside him, shaking his head. "You do not know how to tell a story."

Ward rolled his eyes. "Morning, Lance Corporal."

"Yeah, morning," he replied distractedly, his head turned towards Mihaylov. "I'm Sampson. You wanna know the dope on anything that goes around on this ship, I'm the guy you wanna talk to."

By this point Furby and Avery had finished their reminiscing and had tuned in to the conversation. "Oh, Jesus," Avery sighed. "Ain't you got shit else to do?"

Sampson shook his head with a grin. "Nope. I already ate and put away my tray. Anyway! So, yeah, Riot Night. So, Corporal Davis, their TL, orchestrates this HUGE party that every junior Marine in the battalion attended in one of the simulator rooms. There was alcohol, music, dancing, the whole nine yards there. The sim was made to look like some old night club. It was beautiful."

"Wait for it..." Avery mumbled to Ward and Furby.

"Well, we're about two hours into this party and it's about to start winding down when these November Company pricks -- we don't like them --- start shit with Ward over here," Sampson explained, gesturing to the three members of First Team present when appropriate. "Well, First Team bands together and starts kickin' their ass. Well, y'know, we're O-Co. We don't let nobody mess with one of our own, so we all jump in, and pretty much it becomes an all out brawl between us and No-Co. People are kickin' each other, throwin' each other, and one dude even drug a guy across the bar."

Avery shook his head. "No, no they didn't, bro."

Sampson relented. "Okay, so no one got drug across the bar, but that'd been pretty awesome, right? Right?" When no one said anything, he sighed. "Anyway, so the fight's goin' down and shit. Well, Beatrice, our lovely AI -- if you haven't met her, she's sexy -- goes ahead and calls the MAs. I'm talkin' alarm klaxons are goin', and she told Davis. So Davis fells everybody to bug out and we all start pourin' out the exit as MAs in riot gear show up."

Ward decided now was probably the best time to reinsert himself into the story. Sampson had not been present when First Team made their last stand. "Yeah, so everybody leaves, and we're all that's left in the sim when the MAs arrive. So Corporal changes the sim into a maze scenario and we duck the MAs, kicking their asses whenever they got too close. Well, finally they shut down the sim and come at us. By the time we were done, twenty-some MAs were down."

He stopped there. While there was a bit more to it, like the Marine MPs showing up to the scene, and Davis getting shot in the face by a beanbag round from a shotgun, he decided it was probably best to leave that information out. Lance Corporal Sampson turned to Ward and retarded him with frustration. It seemed he had wanted to be the one to finish the story. Jon simply smiled back at him innocently.

Avery chuckled. "Yeah, so the BC decided we can't play nice with others, so we go in the freezers when No-Co are out and about, and when we're not, the Blue Falcons watch us like hawks."

[Chambers, T.]

Navy breakfast usually wasn't their best meal unless the chefs thought they or someone they cared about was going to die, they seemed to have a thing for wanting to go out with a good meal. He had to admit the meals he'd gotten from Navy cooks seemed to have gotten worse since he joined the marines, it almost certainly had to do with not being an ET anymore they kind of always owed you when you fixed broken equipment and didn't report it or made up a reasonable explanation that didn't implicate them for screwing up or doing something they shouldn't have been doing. 

Tom had been a few people back in the line from his growing buddy Mihaylov. He followed him and another Marine or two to the table that seemed to hold the others he guessed were part of their platoon, they had been near him when they were taken out of the freezers it was a reasonable assumption, it also had been backed up by the fact they'd been told that before hand but still. The PFC had managed to nab himself a couple slices of bread, if he was going to eat bacon and eggs he was going to eat it in a sandwich, it was much easier to do a lot of things with a sandwich than a plate and utensils. 

Sitting down he listened to one of the other marines finish his whine breakfast, he's missed most of the conversation it seemed. Looking around as he built his sandwich they were being watched, watched by far more than the normal amount of Masters at Arms than normal, then again these guys had been in cryo when he'd arrived, either it was one big cock up or they'd been sent there for something. Biting into his sandwich Mihaylov asked the question.  

"What we do to deserve escort? Food fight last time in chow hall?" He guessed not by everyone expressions. 

"No, Lance Corporal, We, uhhh... well we kinda had a party in one of the simulator rooms a couple weeks back and it turned pretty ugly towards the end." Must have been one hell of a piss up. Someone else then came in and began to tell the story, it was an interesting one, it seemed one of the Fire Team leaders had organised this 'riot night'.

The new marine to the table, a Lance Corporal explained the set up an old Earth night club, full of music, alcohol and marines not to mention some fairly strong libidos and few inhibitions. It was interesting learning of these 'November Company pricks' now he was sure no matter what he did he now had some enemies and the reason for that was beyond his control. The story went on to describe a company on company brawl. It was clear to him there was some history behind these events, possibly something even the marines of the current make up of the companies didn't know or through it's various retellings had been embellished some.

It was more the next parts that interested him, this marines seeming affection for the ships AI, soon however the story was finished by the original teller of  the story, as he idly chewed he identified the bloke by his name tape, Ward. 

They'd managed to take down twenty or so MAs and seemingly survive the incident with a trip to the freezers, but he was sure he hadn't got the full story, knowing who started the biffo would provide a great deal of context.

When someone added their last part of it he spoke up. "If you're taking questions," He began "did ya win the fight with November?" The Aussie wanted to know who won, just in case some November blokes would come for more than a game of cricket.

[Furby, J.]

Furby sighed at the sudden appearance of Lance Corporal Sampson. He took a bite of his food and silently eavesdropped on the over-the-top retelling of the events that had transpired in the simulator that night. He cringed as the overzealous rumor chaser exaggerated parts of the tale to add more dramatic effect; as if First Team's exploits weren't dramatic enough. Twenty-seven MAs and a handful of November Company Marines had been singlehandedly hospitalized by four Marines.

He shook his head and continued to devour his meal as Sampson carried on with his tale. Avery interjected at points to keep the story moving along and to call out an inaccuracies that the kid might have purposefully added in, but otherwise, it was solely Sampson that talked. When he finally concluded the story, one of the new guys spoke up. "If you're taking questions," a PFC Chambers began, "did ya win the fight with November."

Jayson saw the sparkle in Sampson's eyes, and knew he was about to pounce on the opportunity to further hash out the tale. He was sure none of First Team wanted to hear him yammer on any longer, so he nodded in Chambers's direction. "Yeah," Furby said, cutting Sampson off. "We kicked their asses. Last I heard they were still in Sick Bay, but they're probably out now. I think they've learned their lesson."

He eyed the new guys for a moment. "So, what's your story? I saw you two in Second Team's birth. I'm assuming the three of you are under Corporal Faust?"

Avery chuckled. "Real hothead, ain't she?"

[Winters, R.]

Raven Winters walks inthe Chow Hall in an elegant and unique 1970's clothing, even with a nice flowery head band. She might have looked weird or even silly or funny but it was who she was. She was also wearing a small Jacket on. She wore a older pair of jeans that was typical of the era, and was actually barefoot. 
She was in line, just waiting for her turn to get served and listening to others. Her paranoia had gotten somewhat worst scince she got out of the freezer. She was kind of expecting the ship to to be assaulted by Convenant forces or something. She nodded at the cooks as they slapped a nice dose of today's breckfast onto her plate. From her experience, it was always a good idea to be friends... or at least be friendly... with the cooks. 
There was, however something unusual about the name of the meal "Chef's surprise ". It was probably her paranoia, but she was hesitant to eat the meal as of yet. Hell, the cooks be be double agents, or be brainwashed to poison the people on the ship, and then contact nearbly Conv ships to attack the ship and take over. While this situation was very unlikely, she could not help thinking about it. As she was served, she walked to the table with the most marines but did not sit right next to anybody. 
Was she able to still actually socialize honestly with anybody new? She was pretty messed up in the head, and did not want to be considered insane or creepy or a weirdo. She finally sat down 2-3 feet from the nearest person, and went to eating her food quietly. She did not talk, but listened to everything, she could hear. She glanced around a few times, looking and studying everybody, as well as the extra, escort personell. 
As she listened, she could not help smiling and smirking at the Maze sim in the Sim Room and the effectiveness of the group that was left in the Simulation. "Not bad at all. Pretty damn smart thing to change the simmulation. " She thought to herself. Raven however, laughed out a little, shaking her head gently. Her laugh died down pretty fast and she got serious again, and wandered if anybody saw her laughing. 

[Edward, Z.]

Edwards walked into the Cafeteria after everyone else. He just grabbed a protein bar and sat down at an empty table. He could of sit at a few tables, even with his squad if he wanted but left them alone with some other marines. Being secluded for most of his life except for just a few people, this was going to prove to be a challenge, for the fact that his squad he was in he hardly knew and were not on the best of speaking terms.

As everyone either ate or talked.  Edwards pulled out his data pad and saw the 100 unread emails. He sighed quietly. "Uh, junk ... junk ... Final notice on child support... I don't have any children." Edwards started marking everything  junk except for just a few emails. He wondered what in the world was with all the law enforcement messages were for. "I'm starting to wish I would of remained on that inhabited planet..."  He said quietly,it would of certainly been quiet. For a moment he thought about those pilots were doing since they were rescued.

Edwards took a bite of the bar and looked down at the table. "What am I doing here... I am not a marine..."  Edwards said to himself quietly and looked up making sure no one heard him.

He took the last bite out of the bar.

[Chambers, T.]

He had directed his question to the original tellers of the story, the one who had done a significant portion of the previous explained was stopped by one of the others. If he was going to get into a fight with November he was sure he knew who to pick, it was those guys. Not that he was a bad fighter himself, he just preferred the odds in his favor, it never hurt to tip the scales your way. 

"Yeah," Furby started off. "We kicked their asses. Last I heard they were still in Sick Bay, but they're probably out now. I think they've learned their lesson." He sure hoped so, otherwise he'd have a much harder time trying to keep himself out of trouble than he might have thought, but with what you could pick up from everyone in only a couple hours told him it was more than likely only going to continue, he'd make sure to give any of the November bastards a run for their money if they came for him.

There was a small pause as both and and his Russian compatriot were sized up by the group "So, what's your story? I saw you two in Second Team's birth. I'm assuming the three of you are under Corporal Faust?" Before either of them could respond another marine stepped in. "Real hothead, ain't she?" He smirked. "Aint a quiet welcome," He began. "Then again apparently you don't to seem to do much quiet." He said referencing their party and reputation. "As for myself, Second team's new Auto rifleman, must think I need all the extra ammo." He said with a smirk, it was true he wasn't the best shot, but he felt comfortable with his accuracy on the MA5.