shipsinker | i'm here for the giant robots

i'm here for the giant robots

[So. In a world perhaps more similar to one where certain dumbass college students stole a top-of-the-line ship, there are giant robots because of course there are. Sure, there hasn't been a major war in years, just skirmishes carefully denied by all governments, but those giant robots are far more versatile than a giant warhead of a battleship.

The political and tactical details of the world at large are currently being lost on one redhaired pilot, because she's more interested in doing routine maintenance and eating her sandwich.

In her defense, it's a fucking delicious sandwich. But be that as it may, she's about to go on leave, so if anyone wanted to bother her before she finished work on the giant murderbot and gets the hell off base, now would be the time.]

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If you tune that thing anymore, I'm getting you moved to mechanics instead of combat team.

[Oh look, it's that jerk on their team who got moved from pilot to tactical command because he's good at that. You can tell it's an AU because he's not comically short.]

Basajuan, didn't they give you cadets to harass?

[Not even looking up from her sandwich.] Because as I recall, the last time you told me that, I had to go and prove I was best at combat, and I'm not sure your pride could take me laying you out on your ass.

[...It appears him technically outranking her has not put any curb on her outrageous flirting.]

Yes, a laying out so bad that they went and promoted you over the rest of the squad for your keen foresight and tactical skill... Wait, wait no. That was me, and you got my old position because you are, god help us, our most talented pilot.

[He chuckles.]

Besides, we both know the brass won't let me bust you down like that - it'd be career suicide if they knew I was the reason they never got to see you in a flight suit again.

Oh-hoh, big talk for a man who hasn't broken our tie since we were in school. Get a promotion and suddenly you think I'll just roll over, Xanti?

[Finishing sandwich.]

More'n one way to settle this, you know. The brass isn't going to care so long as we're still fit for duty when they need us to be, and we both know it.

Name your terms, then. I'm not above proving that my rank wasn't just handed to me, Alazne.

[Crossing his arms and staring at her, then.]

Well, I'm on leave in about...[checking her watch.] Four minutes, and as I recall, there's still an entire training ground under my house where I left it.

[Digging in her pockets and tossing him a key. If one got the impression she just deliberately provoked him into going to her house, then, we could hardly blame them.] Might as well take this off the base before talking seriously about any of it, mm?

[He smirks, slightly, and catches the key she just tossed to him.]

Fine, fine. I'll go change out of uniform then. See you there in, oh, half an hour?

[Which actually means twenty-five minutes because he's hideously punctual, but, that's Xanti for you.]

[She was pretty much expecting that, but that doesn't mean she isn't dressed in what passes for training clothes--a tight tanktights and some nigh-indestructible incarnation of yogapants because that's how Alazne rolls. If this doubles for being extremely unfair, given her figure, well, that's also how Alazne rolls. She's even pulled her hair up, for once.]

Got an odd definition of 'half an hour', huh?

Planning ahead means punctuality, unless it's for effect.

[He's similarly got training clothes on; clearly a change in the bag he's carrying with him, but right now it's a pair of PT pants and a tank top of his own.]

You made quite the challenge back on base. I suppose I'm curious the specifics are.

Well. There's more than a couple ways to do this that doesn't actually end up in you breaking my arm or me breaking your leg. Either we get the staffs out or this comes down to more old-fashioned wrestling. That's up to you.

[She gives him a once over, curiously a lot more subdued and calm than she was at base.]

...And to make it more interesting, maybe a wager should be involved, mm?

Staves would put you on a more even footing with me; I don't want there to be an excuse when I win.

[Calm, clipped, professional: sometimes it's a wonder she hasn't shot him.]

And if you want to make a bet of it, that's completely fine. What do you want from me, if you win?

...An answer to a question I've had for a while. And that's all I'm telling you right now.

[Fine, then, she'll take the staves and tosses him one. If his shit-talking is irritating her she definitely isn't showing it.]

And for your part, Basajuan?

You lose and you're going to wind up my personal assistant for a week, in addition to your other duties. I figure a position where you have to be polite might even out how you've been toward me since we got to fleet.

[Sounds like maybe this is more than just his responding to the challenge of his authority here. He takes the stave, looks it over, and gives it a cursory spin before he turns toward her.]

Fair enough?

Acceptable.

[She doesn't flourish or anything, just slides, easily as breathing, into a waiting stance, watching him for any movement.]

Three pins to victory. Come, then.

Inviting the first move, then? Fine.

[He comes off the line fast, efficiently, with a feint that turns into a ducking sweep at her feet. He's half expecting her to jump it but he'll take it a step at a time for now.]

[She does jump it, and basically leapfrogs clear over him. One thing's clear--she's been made pilot because her own reflexes and agility are frankly obscene, and that translates well in the giant punchin' robots.

She does know, however, she's not going to win on a contest of strength, which means playing dirty. So when she comes down she's pretty much immediately going to try and catch him at the knee and yank it out from under him. Think fast, Xanti.]

Are you underestimating me, after all this time? I'm a little disappointed.

[Of course, knowing she'd have to come down behind him and go for a knockdown like that means he rather immediately stabs behind him with the staff to deflect her swing. It appears the tactical genius that has him working as in command was not a bluff. He does turn, almost casually, to face her.]

A first move is so disadvantageous in a situation like this... I thought I would make sure you were paying attention.

Tell me, do they teach the condescension to officers, or are you just special?

[Her expression has shifted slightly, to one he's probably only ever seen over comm screens before--there's a cold, piercing intensity to it. She's nowhere near his level of tactical thinking, but no one can say her battle instincts aren't top-notch.

Speaking of which, she just snapped forward lightning-fast to catch him across the collarbone and, if she has her way, hip-check him into the ground. He...may have touched a nerve.]

[Funny enough, he doesn't even move to stop the knockdown. He only raise his staff to keep her from hitting his collarbone. Of course, this means she downs him: and he stares back up, still looking a bit more amused than he should.]

That's your first.

...Trying to make me angry, huh?

[She lets him up, and walks a few steps away, holding her staff to her side and watching him, probably a little unnervingly.]

You're going to have to come up with better than that, Mr. Genius. If you're going to make this easy on me, it's not even worth continuing.

Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of making it easy.

[Kipup from the ground like it's nothing.]

But if you kept working yourself up this was going to be one-sided, you know. Now, come on, show me how you really fight.

...You're such an idiot.

[She sighs, shaking her head a little, even shrugging, completely casually, before unleashing an unholy barrage of strikes, fast and sharp, aimed for his wrists, stomach, and knees all in quick succession.]

As you wish.

As I thought, you really do approach threats with the intent to neutralize first.

[He actually has an admirably lightning fast defense of his own, though it mostly involves a spinning of the staff between hands, before he goes for planting the stick just inside one of her strikes to his leg, using the lowered center of balance to shoulder her back and maybe over.]

If I was trying to 'neutralize' you, I'd have gone for your throat.

[She staggers back, and has to plant the staff to keep from falling over. She's quick to pull herself back into a defensive stance, but, well, an opening's an opening.]

Not what it means in this context and we both know it.

[That's an opening for a palm strike to bowl her over and she manages to stay planted after that he's sweeping.]

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