Put Up Your Dukes
Put Up Your Dukes
Summary: Praxis meets up with Epi to talk about Castor, and then decide to let off some steam. An unlikely winner arises and a friendship is formed.
Date: PHD #100
Related Logs: None

Small Arms Range - Deck 2 CEC Kharon
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #100 OOC Time: Mon Jul 27 22:47:56 2009

This room contains the typical layout of a fleet range. There are four stalls running out to twenty-five yards, each having their own target system run on a simple mechanical pulley mechanism. At the rear of the room is a waist-high table for reloading magazines or for setting down range bags. A large storage locker to the side contains additional hearing protection, stocks of range ammunition and protective eyewear. Hanging from the ceiling by a pair of chains, and easily visible when walking through the door is a listing of range rules.
Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close

A very unlikely member of this crew and a very unlikely place crash together suddenly while the entrance of Lt. Demitros is made, the door pushing open rather slowly while the CIC officer silently steps in. The range rules glare him in the face, and out of procedure he is /forced/ to read them. There is no way he would be able to ignore a big sign like that. Eyes train on the range rules until they are finished intaking them, and finally he is able to observe all else within. That includes our heroine, Epiphany Jarot. The tactical officer quirks a brow slightly. "I was told I could find you in here."

Epi's head pops up and she blinks at Praxis for a long moment. As she oozes off the table, around her parts, a beaming smile lights her face - even as she salutes. Yep, she's a good little Marine. "Evening Sir," she chirps cheerily. "Here for a lesson?" Ahhh, the subtle rivalry between Marine and Naval personnel.

"Perhaps another time." Praxis states, a bit of a twinkle in his eye after Epi asks the question to that particular response. "This is highly irregular…" His hand reaches behind to scratch at his neck, one of the warning signs that this is an awkward sort of situation for Demitros. "I'd like to speak with you off the record. About Lieutenant Junior Grade Castor Leda." Oh, is -that- all?

Her head tilts a little to the side, bird-like, as her hand drops. "Lieutenant Leda," she asks, undeniably curious now. It's written all over her face. "Huh. Certainly, Sir." With an easy movement, she returns to her seat, curling up like a contented housecat in a sunbeam. Pieces of her weapon get picked up and fondled as she watches the Lieutenant in front of her. There seems to be a method to her madness, a certain way in which her fingers are gliding over the edges.

"This is a situation unlike any I have ever faced." Demitros explains, his jade eyes wandering down to the pieces of the firearm that lay in a very specific manner in front of the Corporal. His eyes narrow, trying to find some sort of pattern to either her method, or the manufacturing methods of the gun, or -something-. Constant analysis is relaxing. "I do not know if you are acquainted with Mr. Leda, Corporal, but having known the man myself I cannot believe he is responsible for the happenings on board the ship." The Lieutenant chews on his lip. "Were you the one who located the G-4 explosive?"

Epi, at least, seems to know what she's doing. It's the equivalent of putting the weapon together blindfolded. Yes, Praxis is being used as her blindfold - she's studying his face intently. "I'm afraid, Sir, given that this is an open investigation, that I'm unable to provide any details with regard to the case." Ahhh, canned Marine-speak, sadly. "I AM acquainted with the Lieutenant, and honestly, I believe as you do."

Dammit. Praxis shows a degree of frustration on his visage, though through the eyes helplessness can be observed. "I somehow knew that you would respond to my query this way." Demitros murmurs, eyes wandering down to the floor. He rubs his eyes and forehead before finally the eyesight becomes level with her again. "I am not willing to resign to Leda's fate, however it is much too difficult to stand by while a select group of military police handle it, in all honesty."

The man's words actually have her pausing in her work and she gives him a look, one that clearly eludicates that she feels she cannot be hearing what she thinks she just heard. Apparently she's willing to give Praxis the benefit of the doubt, however. "With all due respect, Sir," she says quietly, snapping the last piece of her weapon back into place with a touch more force than is actually necessary. "The military police aboard this ship are some of the best at what they do and they are fair. If you would like, I'm certain we could find a cook to conduct the investigation? Or maybe you'd prefer a coin flip?"

Eyes snap onto the corporal at the moment those three magic words 'all due respect' fall upon Praxis' ears. His eyelids narrow slightly while he watches her lips move, only deviating from that locked position after hearing the impact of the weapon against the surface. It is then he grips his wrist behind his back and straightens to a more rigid sort of form, though the last two sentences make the Lieutenant twitch. When she's finished, and only when she's finished, does he reply. "Fortunately for my sake, I believe I am honorable enough to acquiesce when you are indeed correct." A slight pause. "I apologize. My faith in the honorable men and women that serve on this vessel had been offset by my own emotional reaction to the imprisonment of one of the only men I can truly call 'friend'. I believe that reaction has comprimised me." Admitting that, is visibly painful, especially to someone who ALWAYS keeps himself in check. "I will desist, Corporal, and ask to be relieved." Yikes, isn't that a bit drastic?

Epi simply watches him for a long moment, a little wide-eyed. Putting her weapon aside, she slides off her little perch and moves around behind Praxis, head canted in that curious bird-like little way. The little woman studies him from behind, focusing on his posterior, before coming around to stand in front of him. "You're worried about your friend," she says quietly. "I get that." Eyes find his face and most traces of the bouncy young Marine are gone, replaced by a more serious side. "Between you and I, I would…well, I'd hope that it was a frame job and someone targeted HIM. If that makes any sense?" She pauses for a moment, nose twitching a bit. "Besides, I don't think relief in here would be a good thing. They get angry if you pee on the floor. But with that stick so far up your ass, well, I can see where it'd be pressing uncomfortably on the prostate." Ahhhh, there's that smile again. UTTER imp.

Epi's words make Praxis' lips twitch uncontrollably as he stands there with Jarot circling him, but then furious eyes snap onto the Corporal, a seemingly angry fire behind them. "Then they would have done well to place that particular concern on the rule board upon entry. How inconvenient … now I am going to have to use something less comfortable — such as the head." Twitch.
Epi leans back against the shelf, arms folding over her chest, as she tilts her head up to look up that long distance to Praxis' face. "I can write it in in sharpie, if you'd like," she asks, an earnest sweetness about her. Too many people have probably been taken in by that expression. "Instead of the head, how would you like to go to the gym, Sir? Perhaps a little sparring will help wear the starch out of your shorts. I know that has to chafe something horrible. Besides, it's always better to talk in the ring."

Praxis smirks slightly. "I am afraid I'd be much less than an opponent for you, Corporal." he mentions, letting everything about taking a leak right here in the middle of the range area go. "A feather falling upon your skin is more threatening than my left jab." The officer is still a little bit puzzled, however. It's obvious that no one has asked him to fight in the ring before. If that's exactly what she was doing.

Poor Praxis. He gets the big, wide eyes of doom. She gives him the kittenish look. The look that makes Precious Moments figurines so popular. Wait, does the lower lip tremble a little? Nah. She's a Marine. Can't be. Right? "Are you sure," she asks quietly, voice low and soft. "Sparring is a good way to relax."

"I'm certain for you that throwing hooks at a CIC officer would be more than relaxing. However, I am not exactly certain about this being 'beat up' thing." Demitros emits a sigh, shaking his head at those large childlike eyes that peer back at him. "Ah, suppose it is the least I could do for wasting your time."

Ahhhh, there's that beaming smile. Praxis just made the woman's day. "I'll be right with you, Sir," she chirps again, going to turn her protective gear and weapon in. She bounces - yes, bounces - as she does all of this. "I'll try not to hurt you, Sir."

* LATER. The following combat is based entirely on combat rolling…which turned out to be rather one-sided. *

Gym - Deck 3 CEC Kharon
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #100 OOC Time: Mon Jul 27 23:57:13 2009

This is a rather large room that would accommodate quite a few people. The typical battleship gray color that coats the walls and floor of most of the ship is broken up here by the rubberized flooring that's done in a neutral tan. The other main addition to the flooring are stacks of dark blue mats that are available to be pulled out for a variety of purposes, though one standard is generally left at the back of the room which is considerable in its size and has a big, bright red circle taped onto it for sparring.
Free weights sit along one wall, the racks extending a little further out into the room. On the other side are the typical nautilus-style equipment common to most gyms, their standard weight sets adjustable by a simple change of the metal key in the stacks of iron. There is a fresh pile of folded towels sitting by the hatch, a plastic bin on the other side for the deposit of used towels in need of a wash.
Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close

Now you've done it this time, Praxis. Going down to the gym to fufill his death wish, or at least unconscious wish is the foolish tactical officer. Lookin' good in those shorts, Prax. He had gotten there slightly head of Epi as she had to take care of her weapons at the range, but Demitros wasn't going to run away or back out. No, when a junkyard dog is snapping at your heels, you turn around and kick it in the chops! Or you get eaten by it, either way. "Are there boxing gloves?" the LT wonders aloud to no one in particular.

Epi bounces in just in time to hear the question and beams up at him. "We'll make sure you're fully protected, Sir," she says, nodding. "We wouldn't want you to get hurt. The Commander would be cross with me, and then the Lieutenant would be cross with me, and if she's cross with me, that means Gunny will beat my ass black and blue." Off she goes at top speed, returning a moment later with protection for both of them. Looks like she's going to take it easy on him tonight.

"I like the part where you included you were concerned for my health and general well being." Praxis comments with a raised index finger to her retreating form, exhaling a long breath. However at the end of that sigh it seems that the Corporal has returned with all the gear. Another slight hesitation is made before he dives in and starts suiting up.

"One of the first things they taught me," Epi says as she reaches out to help him with the gloves. "Is how not to hurt the other children on the playground." She seems so earnest and so sweet. Her? Hurt someone? Never. "So, being gentle with less fortunate and more fragile people is something I grew up with."

"It never ceases to amaze me when it comes to your ability to reassure others." Praxis mentions dryly, simply staring down at his hands when Epi fastens those gloves to his fists. "I mean, words can not describe how good I am feeling about this right now." It would appear that humorous sarcasm is one of the TACCO's defense mechanisms.

Sarcasm? Meet Epi. Just in time to see sarcasm sail RIGHT over her head. She's a bit short, after all. He gets another of those glorious smiles as she fastens her own protection on. "It's hard sometimes," she confides to him. "Most people really aren't reassured by Marines. But we're not that bad, honest! I was raised by them and look how I turned out."

Praxis starts bouncing on his feet, but then just about as soon as the words 'look how I turned out' flash past his ears, all of his locomotion ceases and he just stands there, a contorted and confused expression on his face before he just shakes it off, heading into the ring and waiting for her there. He can't really help her with all of this stuff on. He has no opposable thumbs!

Epi heads in the ring a moment later and dips her head to the man in front of her, waiting until she's sure he's read before she launches into a sadly failed attack. The little woman darts in and aims an upper-cut to the man's jaw - a little far to reach.

Praxis is as ready as he is ever going to be. He puts up his dukes and awaits Epi's first move, which is an interesting upward swing to his jaw. But no one should aim for the branches of a tree when they are ten feet in the air, should they? He watches the glove go by, and with his right fist he throws a hook at the opening, a loud THUMP at the impact of glove with side of head. He widens his eyes slightly.

Yep, she went too high and takes the hit to the side of the head, stumbling. Yes, the man gets a bit of a wide-eyed look. "Wow," she murmurs. "That was a good hit. Have you been practicing?" Without waiting for him to answer, she heads in, a little off-balance, to aim for his solar plexus.

All right, that's definitely a little bit lower than the jaw, Epi. However. Praxis is quick. Not with his feet mind you, but with his brain. He sees her moves almost before they happen, Demitros stepping aside at just the right moment ninja-like before he openly abuses the opportunity just given by the Marine stumbling past him. In fact, he's given time to wind up his right arm and hit her with rather staggering force at the back corner of her head. That'll make her see stars for a bit. "Tactics, my dear Epiphany." he mentions.

Epi takes the hit and ends up flat on her ass, staring up at him. "They teach you CIC folks some good stuff," she murmurs, blinking a bit. She gets up again, though perhaps a bit slowly. This time she goes in with a simple hook, almost as if she's testing him.

This time, Praxis takes the hit of her hook, a bit of an 'oof' as he wasn't sure what to expect when being hit. Of course, in response his left hand comes screaming in towards her…but she experiences something strange; when that left glove impacts onto her it is a very light hit for the velocity it was traveling at. Something is definitely fishy when it comes to being hit by that particular appendage.

Epi's eyes narrow slightly as she takes the hit - and it's way too light. "Do NOT pull your punches with me, Lieutenant," she grumbles, and proceeds to plant a fist in his solar plexus again before dancing away.

Praxis furrows his brows. "I'm n-" Thump. The glove impacts into the plexus and he bends over slightly, making sure he's still got his breath before he moves out of the way. "That was a cheap hit, Corporal. Do you always distract your enemies with questions and comments?" Suddenly, he points with his glove. "COMMANDER ON DECK!" That is probably the most exuberant Praxis has EVER been, and the sneakiest.

Oh, of course she LOOKS when he says that. Yep, after her hit connects, she pulls to attention and looks over her shoulder, the rest of her body turning as well, glove coming up toward her face. "Commander? Where?"

Praxis, thankful to the Gods that the ruse had worked, pulls back his right arm and then releases all that energy into the orb atop Epi's shoulders. For once in his life, a devilish grin is spread across his face, although it is now that he really -deserves- to lose.

Poor Epi. She's getting her ass kicked by a CIC nerd. This is SO going to have her hiding in the Head for a few weeks. The child is going to be devastated. She's turning around - just in time to catch the hit to her shoulder. "Oh, you di…" she murmurs, then darts in with a combination of bunches. One goes to his chin, one goes to his gut. She's -not- happy.

CIC Nerd. Had Praxis been able to read her thoughts he might have felt complimented. No such luck however. Unable to focus on really replying to her words however, Demitros has to pay attention to the new attacks that are coming towards him. This time the attacks are too rapid in succession to simply dodge, however they are easily enough parried. Those blocked attacks leave critical openings…openings that all tactical officers are charged with exploiting. A combo of punches are thrown towards her, left jab to the chest, and a very wide right hook. Again, should the left hand hit it feels like a feather. But the right one feels like a wrecking ball.

That's enough to knock Epi flat on her ass, again. She's mad, but she's not letting that bother her too much. Ok, so it bothers her a little. With a low growl, she telegraphs her next move - a sweep of his leg. And she goes down.

Praxis chuckles when the demo expert falls to the ground, but of course when he starts backing off from her fallen form he trips over his own ankle, falling right over backwards and onto his own ass this time. "Ow." he mutters, laying down and staring right up at the ceiling. "This is…much different than I had originally thought it was going to be." he confesses.

And she gets back up again, sighing. "Yeah, same here," she grumbles quietly. Well, at least he knows she's not pulling her punches. She goes in for another swing at his face, a nice right hook. But again, she has to reach. Apparently someone's somewhat off her game tonight.

"I was rather serious when I was being modest, you know." Praxis mentions after getting up, sure to be ready for her hook when it comes. Blocking that hook, left glove comes to impact -softly- against her face. "It turns out that you are fighting someone who is handicapped." The LT's breathing has become rather heavy at this point. "I haven't been pulling those punches.."

Both gloves come up and she shakes her head slightly, smiling up at him. "Ok, you've won this one, Lieutenant," she says quietly. "You kicked my ass, I'm not afraid to admit it." Taking the glove off, she offers him a hand.

Praxis shakes his head at the hand, the Lieutenant placing both of the gloves behind his back. "Negative, Corporal." he says. "I do not feel that this has been fair. I believe you should get a couple of free hits in." he mentions. "I do not feel good about this victory."

Epi cocks her head to the side slightly and looks up at him, consideringly. Most young women would quite likely demure and give the fight to him. Not so with Epi. She IS a Marine, after all. Without much more hesitation, she pulls her -bare- fist back and goes for his gut again.

Praxis' eyes look to the bare fist, the horrible lack of glove is apparent immediately when bare knuckles come screaming towards his gut. Demitros had long since decided that this was a no-no, deciding to twist out of the way and use the way she's off balance after failing to land that hit to take her down, arm curling around her short figure and using her momentum to throw her over his foot and screaming down to the floor.

And down she goes, ending up on her back - fairly hard, given the expression of pain on her face. She doesn't quite go down screaming, just with a thump from hell. "Ow," she says breathlessly, back arching off the mat, one hand going to her kidney-region.

It is now that Praxis throws off all of his gear, gloves and all before he moves to stand over the fallen Epi, reaching down to her to help with his right hand. "I would really rather us to be friends, Corporal Jarot. I hope you are not angry at me for maintaining the advantage within the battle. Perhaps I will be able to make it up to you somehow, yes?"

Epi starts to wave him off, but then puts her hand in his and allows him to help her up. "Somehow," she murmurs. "Though you taught me a damned good lesson. I just landed wrong." Her face is a little pale. She turns slightly and pulls up the back of her shirt a bit to show him one hell of a bruise. It looks to be about a week and a half old, so it's rather faded, but it's large - about the size of a man's head - right over her kidney. "Landed on that."

Once Epi is back on her feet her hand is released, inspection made on the bruise before he looks back up towards her eyes. "Perhaps I can escort you to the medibay. I must attend as well; I have put unnecessary stress on my damaged appendage and I require some painkillers. I will request some for you as well." He is obviously remorseful of the fact that he really hurt her. "While we are on the way you can tell me the story behind that wound."

She shakes her head and bends to pick up their gear, grinning at him. "I don't need any painkillers," she says quietly. "But I'll walk down with you. It just took my breath away for a minute." The smile grows brighter, back to her usual wattage. Apparently she doesn't mind being beaten.

Praxis nods at her, the placement of a smile upon Epi's features allowing him to settle down slightly. He helps with whatever he can in regards to putting the gear away, and then he clasps his hands behind his back, waiting for the demo expert before he proceeds into the hallway to go get some treatment. "As you wish."

She heads out behind him, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. "I should have stretched beforehand. You're injured," she finally things to ask, after a moment or two of silence. "You didn't fight injured. Of course, your hook was thrown kind of like a bull in a china shop, but that's technique."

Praxis nods his head, carefully explaining to her on the way down the corridor, maintaining his posture in a careful march, a rather large contrast to the one following him. "I had suffered permanent loss of strength in my left arm in an accident during my tour as a Raptor coutermeasures officer. Whenever I try to push the limits of that particular limb, I feel the consequences." Pain. "My right hook is sloppy because now I must use that arm in combat predominantly."


Sickbay - Deck 2 - CEC Kharon

The hatchway immediately opens into the larger room, though the muted blues of the room are complimented by the white sheets on the various beds lying at wait for any injured personnel, which are lain out in neat rows. Curtains are available around certain bed bays for examinations and privacy during them. Rows of lockers around the room are labeled in easy-to-read yellows that contain everything from surgical supplies to the basic items such as sterilized bandages. A counter to the Fore end of the room is the ships pharmacist and can dispense items like aspirin and ibuprofen to anyone who might need it. Behind the manned counter stands an electronically locked metal door that leads back to some of the more controlled pharmacological items. To the rear of the room is a specially designated and sealed 'clean area' for surgeries.
Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close

Of course she listens attentively as he explains, then nods. "Those types of injuries can be a bitch," she commiserates with him. Who would have thought the CIC Lieutenant would have a pet Marine? It's kind of like Big Dog and Little Dog. "How is it working for you now?"

"That's right. But I'm rather happy that it happened, as a matter of fact." Praxis says as he enters into the medibay, his eyes twinkling. "I do miss flying, but I find the current position I hold so much more lucrative." Who knew that being a tactical officer would be his real destiny or his passion.

"Well, of course," Epi replies, giving him a 'duh' look. "I mean, otherwise you'd have been with the -pilots-." Yep, pilots. She's a typical Marine, it would appear. "I know a few of them who are good folk, but pilots…in general. Well, they're kinda odd."

Praxis goes to talk and murmur with one of the medics, and it's not really that long before he gets a case of capsules. It's apparent that he perhaps has been in here before and has reason to have some on hand. The response from Epi creates another smile on his face, eyes locking onto her. "They are certainly a different sort of people. However, I'm currently involved with both worlds, each group has its little fascinating nuances, I believe." A brief pause is made. "You must have an opinion of Tactical and Command." he mentions/asks subtly. "So, what about you. That bruise didn't come from falling down in the shower, I hope. That would be a rather lacking story."

Epi has found herself a seat to curl up on, folding her legs in front of her and smiling up at him. "Oh, Swift and I were working on some gymnastics moves and I slipped," she tells him, smile warm and bright. "I landed on his head as I was flying through the air over him. My foot slipped out of the toss. He's a great acrobat and gymnast, but my skills are a little rusty." Yep, all blamed on herself. "I DO have an opinion of Tactical and Command. Command is to be saluted. And Tactical, well, I just stay the frak out of their way. Oh, I might put some itching powder in shoes now and then, but not usually."

Thanks to the power of the subconscious, the bottom of Prax's feet start to itch a little bit. He stomps the floor slightly as he replies. "I -thought- that bruise was rather large. The size of someone's head, roughly." he says with mirth, popping some pills and swallowing them dry. "Yes, you should stay out of our way. It turns out us Tactical officers eat Marines like you for breakfast." If today's spar was to be any indication. Of course, he is just teasing. "Oh…about that one day in the game room. I apologize for being unfavorable. I may think you are silly sometimes, but it is rather endearing. I won't question your seriousness again; though I do know the mischief will still exist, hmm?" A smirk.

She gives him one of those trademark grins and reaches out to pat his arm, lightly. "It's ok, Lieutenant," she says quietly. "I may think you have a spiked stick up your ass, but it's what makes you good at your job." She looks so sweetly earnest, even as she insults a senior officer.
Praxis actually chuckles at this. "How are you certain I am good at my job?" he asks, not seeming to mind the insult, assuming she wasn't really aiming for his heart. "However, I suppose I have spent long enough not actually doing it…"

"If you weren't damned good at your job," she says quietly. "Shridan wouldn't have you anywhere near CIC. You'd be pushing a broom somewhere. And you forget, I've watched you at work. You're excellent at being the officer of the deck." When she looks up at him now, it's with quite a bit of that earnest sincerity. The joking is aside for now. She's utterly sincere.

Praxis kind of stands there for a moment glancing at her, desperately trying to not let the pride behind his eyes stand out too much. The compliments were nearly too much for him to handle. "Thank you, my friend. Your words mean quite a bit to me." A slightly nod. He looks over his shoulder towards his posterior. "And I suppose I have you to thank as well, my good friend." Of course, this having been one of Demitros' bad jokes, he smiles at Epi. "I am going to return to my duties and try to assist with our efforts to rectify the situation onboard Kharon, but perhaps after I will see you again."

She hops to her feet, laughing quietly, and nods. "Sleep is also good, Sir. It gives your stick time to grow replacement barbs. I'm going back to the gym, I think, to turn upside down and maybe inside out. I need to work on my flexibility." Without hesitation, she drops into a back bridge, bending like a little gummygirl.

"No rest for the weary, Corporal. I've got to help Persephone Tanner with our efforts to eradicate the virus from our systems." Praxis mentions, raising his eyebrows at the interesting movement Epi partakes in. "If you get inside-out, be sure to alert CIC. I'll glance at the gym cameras and be thoroughly amused." A grin, before he makes an about-face and strolls out. Flexibility. Hah. If Prax tried that backbridge thing he'd snap like a twig.

"Night sir," she calls after him, saluting with a foot. It's only when the medical staff catches sight of her that she pops back to her feet and scampers out.

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