Summary: Folks from the Kharon get their night of shore leave interrupted by hoodlums. With guns.
Date: MD048 (11 April 2009)
Related Logs: None

[Poseidon's Revenge ][ DSS Charybdis ]

The Poseidon's Revenge is the heart and soul of this space station, both figuratively and literally. Encompassing its very epicentre, and constructed from cascading steel girders in a monlithic style that betrays roots in something far more functional, the club is one and a half stories tall, and roughly circular in shape with a domed roof painted in a canopy of stars. The Cephissus cluster is easily visible from some of the seats on the second floor, with its distinctive serpentine body and three-pronged 'tail'.

Neon signs light up the bar itself, which looks to be cobbled together from parts of an old trireme's hull. A winding staircase twists around from stem to stern of a ship's mast, leading to the second floor. There is a sprung wooden dancefloor on the lower level, and a few pinball and slot machines crowding the far wall next to a jukebox.

Drinks are served with little plastic tridents instead of umbrellas, and the Poseidon's Revenge has its very own sea monsters each friday and >saturday night: Scylla and Charybdis, fourty-something women in tights and sequins who'll dance for a small sum of cubits.

There's a woman in the back, currently cussing at a pinball machine in a way that would make a navy man blush. Good thing she's a navy woman than. Even if she's not wearing her uniform, there's dog tags jingling around her neck as she pounds at the buttons on the side, making the flippers dance erratically.

TAking the captain's advise from the other day, Iris gets a few hours of shore leave in. And wehre's the best place to hang out? The bar. A cursory glance is given over to the pinball, and there's a half-grin at the abuse it's taking. Half a mind to go check it out, the tech decides booze is more important. Booze first, butting into others' business later.

As the little silver ball drops to its demise, Eddie takes a break from launching another one into action, at least long enough to take a heavy puff off her cigarette and a swig from her beer bottle. She's currently at one of the pinball machines, trying to make the game her bitch but the score clearly states otherwise. The machine is winning.

'Something strong, and leave the bottle' is her order. The tender's good at his job, giving only an empty tumbler and a bottle of probably whiskey. Seeing the pinball wizard over there take a break, Iris decides it's okay now to approach it. "Bein' difficult?" She asks, gesturing to the machine.

The door to the bar opens and in walks a rather tired looking Althea Legacy, dressed, once again, in a sundress. There's a large purse slung over one shoulder and a small bag with the name of an upscale boutique in her hand. She doesn't look around, she just goes straight to the bar and, apparently, has the same order as Iris. Something strong and leave the bottle. She puts enough cubits down on the bar top to purchase something rather top-shelf and guaranteed to get her smashed in a hurry.

Wearing his off-duties, Roubani slips into the bar with a hesitant air about him. Hands in his pockets, the Ensign avoids eye contact with anyone around the door, searching faces for someone in particular.

Eddie is at the pinball machine, a cigarette dangling from her lips and a new mission in life: get better at pinball. The reason for this mission is the terribly low score, and the fact that she's feeding more coins into the slot to start another game. A beer sitting on top the glass gets jostled as Eddie pings another ball on to the playing field. With Iris approaching her, dark eyes flick in that direction. "Damn flippers don't work right." Because it's the machine's fault of course.

Iris takes advantage of Eddie /not/ beating up the machine to peer down into it through the glass. "Could jus' be that it's sticky from overuse. They'll need t'get someone t'pop the top and fix it." See? She completely buys into it! Either that or she's just helping validating how it can be the machine's fault…

<FS3> Roubani rolls Alertness: Success.

Thea settles in on a bar stool, skirt carefully brushed over her legs, and pours a glass from her bottle. Oddly enough, she doesn't drink yet. Both hands cradle around the glass as she stares ahead of her, contemplative. Her back is to the doro, adn if she notices anyone she knows, she doesn't make mention of it.

The bar's a little rowdier than usual tonight, despite a battlestar having shipped out in the early hours of morning, and a small cargo freighter having arrived. There is a group of dusty, civilian-clad men and women seated at a small table near the counter, splitting a couple of pitchers of stout between them. One particularly heavyset fellow, just in the process of lighting up a cigarette between crooked yellow teeth, watches Legacy cut toward the bar. The rest are engaged in boisterous conversation that seems to revolve around 'ass', 'tits' and the quality of the beer here.

It takes a little while but finally Roubani spots the two at the pinball machines. His dark eyes flicker towards the exit and then back to the source of the pinging noises. Then around at the neon in the place, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a faint grimace. Keeping his hands tucked away, he slides further through the crowd of people.

Nine seems to be masquerading as a dark-clad Two, tonight, her calves flat on a chair, knees bent and back hunching in an almost unnatural-looking curve as she hovers over a page of paper in her new drafting notebook, the boisterous conversation from the bar and all the other noise dissoving in and out of white noise status as she draws line after line with an almost obsessive attention there near the side of the dance floor, a few tables away from the jukebox and pinball machines.

Eddie gets a twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips, could be a smile, could be a nervous tick. "Yeah. Stuck. That's it." She mutters, causing a bit of ash to drop off the tip of her cigarette, and drop to the glass. She's not too concerned with brushing it off. She's also not concerned with the rabble at the table. Yet. Likely because her ass tits and beer have gone unnoticed.

Thea's attention remains mostly on the bottles lined up behind the bar, studying them as if they contain the answers to all the questions she's ever had. The glass in her hands remains in her hands, it doesn't move. Maybe she's trying to warm the liquid the old fashioned way? Eventually, though, the mutterings of the table catch her attention and she glances over, briefly.

Iris works the top off her bottle and decides not to bother with the tumbler and just takes a swig from the ottle itself. A wince is given with the initial burn, but experience allows her to will it away. "Gonna try it again?" she asks? The rest of the bar is background noise for now.

Peeking through the doorway head first, the rest of Ashe's body follows suit as the young Marine walks in dressed in off duty casual wardrobe. Afterall, full blown garb just simply doesn't suit for an evening of festivities. After a pair of steps into the place, he slides to the side and looks about to find the best location to park himself until someone wakes him up tomorrow from whatever stupor he is engaging on.

Roubani coughs through his nose as a cloud of someone's cigarette smoke rolls past his face. Watching him get through a crowd is like watching a bird in flight; he just glides around everything in his path, especially people. It takes effort not to bump into a single thing, but he's willing to spend it. Eventually he drifts towards a corner of the bar not far from the pinball machines, staking this vantage point for now.

Legacy gets a lewd grin from the yellow-toothed man that was looking her up and down. Likely he's aware that she's well out of his league, though maybe after a few drinks in him he won't quite care so much. Meanwhile, one of his cohorts — a tall woman in a buzz cut and more piercings than face to attach it all to — mutters something to him and pushes to her feet. She saunters over to the pinball machines while her buddies continue with the getting riproaringly drunk.

Harmon is not much for bars, thats for sure, but when in Rome. Making his way into the bar, he pauses to scratch his head and take a look this way and that. The noise by the counter does not go unnoticed, causing him to lift an eyebrow before he ventures towards the bar.

Nine looks up briefly as Roubani passes her table on his way to the corner, and she might venture some form of soft-spooken greeting, but it's as likely as anything drowned out by the noise. And in any case Nine is soon distracted by the woman with the face full of metal, at whom she gazes with a sort of awe, like a person taking in a piece of art. She, too, was among the ranks of the metal-faced, before she joined the navy and they made her take it out. A feeble, wistful envy stirs in her bare-skinned features.

Peanuts. The stale kind, that bars sometimes give out for free in little bowls. Someone at that rowdy table is flicking them at people. Mostly those who look at him wrong, like Harmon. Pow. Right in the back of the head.

Thea studies the man who's giving her the eye and then, like any smart women, she simply turns away, expression neutral. Back to the bottles she goes, only this time she takes a slow sip of her drink.

Eddie leans back from the machine with a sigh. "Night may be young, but I'm fresh outta coins." It sounds like a lament. She really wanted to teach that pinball machine a lesson. Eddie's in civvie clothes, with not a pocket really on her to store things like spare change. Her cigarette pack is tucked into the waistband of her skirt. Snagging her beer, she gestures at Iris with it. "Stood up again. Can you believe that? Twice in one week."

While Roubani doesn't look too awkward tonight, there's a distinctly 'out of place' air about him in this bar that would take more than wearing Navy garb to fix. Half-seated on the stool now, he seems taken with watching Eddie and Iris abuse the pinball machine. He does notice Nine a bit after he's actually passed her, and ventures a smile at the engineering PO.

Iris pads her pockets seeing if she has spare change, but she doesn't outright offer it. Instead the topic changes to getting stood up. Ah, that explains the skirt. "I'd say pop 'em in the jaw the next time you see 'em," she grumbles, the accent thickening slightly in the motion. When she speaks again, it clears up some, "But well, doesn't mean y'can't still have a good time t'night." Metal-face just gets a quick blink, as if the farm-girl's never, ever seen anything with so much metal in one area of one's body. But it's dismissed quickly.

Eyes spotting several familiar figures from the ship, Ashe can't help but grin a bit and begins to walk towards them, mainly the pinball area where most of those he has crossed paths with before are located. "Evenin' evenin'." He greets out in a casual way while moving.

If Harmon were a younger man he'd probably already already be over at the table introducing faces to the floor. But as it stands, he simply turns his head slightly to look at the throwers before he leans forward over the bar to make an order - the Colonial equivalent of a glass of coke.

Miss metal-face gives Nine a sly grin as she passes. And a flash of her tongue, which lolls briefly out of her mouth to display all of her fine.. hardware. And that's not teeth, either. Finding both pinball machines occupied, one by Eddie and one by Iris, she halts— and slides her eyes toward Roubani. And that's not a subtle once-over, by any means.

Roubani, meanwhile, managed to become rather fascinated by said piercings in Miss Metal's face. Huh. Metal. In someone's face. His head's even tipped a little bit to one side. When she turns around to look at him, he clears his throat quietly, the sound undoubtedly lost in the crowd's noisy din.

Eddie dips her head at the suggestion from Iris. "Yeah. Might." She mutters, the toe of her boot scuffing at the floor. She's no longer playing on the pinball machine, just occupying it with her presence. Leaning a hip against it, her gaze raises with another swig of her beer, then spying Roubani at the bar. "Maybe I won't hafta." A lazy smile curls around the cigarette in her mouth, but falters as she sees Metal Face eyeing up the same man. Reasons may be different, but same man nonetheless.

Nine wants. Her eyebrows knit upward and together as the metallic one flashes her some tongue, and she gives the woman a shy but very appreciative smile. If looks could speak, Nine's would likely say something along the lines of 'Pardon me, miss, but your tongue is full of pokey bits and I love you for it.' She follows the metallic one's glance back to Roubani, and then she looks down again at the paper, pushing her black pencil over a few lines again, the sleek, streamlined blueprint of a cylon centurion taking shape on the page. Mmm. Metal.

Thea slowly spins on her stool and leans back against the bar, quietly confident as she sips at her drink. The sips are very slow. She's taking her time with the drinnk, clearly, eyes roaming around the bar, as if she's looking for distraction.

The faltered expression is noted, and Iris turns to look where Eddie was glancing. "…man, talk about a small bout of bad luck," she mumbles. She takes another swig from her bottle, trying to figure out what to do. "Think we should go save him? He might not be up to date on his tetanus…"

The table by the bar is only getting rowdier as the beer keeps flowing. When Harmon glances over, his erstwhile assailant wants to know, "Got a frakkin' problem, skinhead?" He tosses one of the peanuts into his mouth. Miss metal, meanwhile, has taken up a lean near the pinball machines, and boldly informs Roubani, "You look fun. So does your friend over there, with the nice ass." Eddie maybe? Nine? Iris? Mr. Yellow Teeth promptly barks at her from their table, to 'sit her bony ass back down'.

Finally having made his way towards the others, Ashe sidles up to the bar and leans against it after motioning for a drink and realizes he's next to Thea. Glancing at her, the young man smiles a bit and dips his head. "You know, the best part about places like this is not just the drinking. It's the drinking so much that you make a mistake." Pausing, he offers his hand towards her. "By the way, my name is Mistake."

Althea Legacy, an older woman who wears an air of quiet confidence about her the same way other women wear Chanel #5. She slowly turns her head to look at Ashe, head cocking slightly to one side as she studies him from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. "I didn't realize that someone could get drunk on milk," she comments, tone quiet, dry, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Harmon, still leaning against the bar, hears the shout in his direction and slowly turns his head to look at the other man. He cannot help but make the situation worse by smirking a little, one eyebrow lifting before he turns back to his drink.

Fun? Roubani? The young Ensign gives Miss Metal a look like he's certain she's hallucinating. "You look very…um. Reflective." He offers back to her, in all honesty. His dark eyes glance past her as if trying to discern who else she's referring to, but he promptly gives up, especially when Yellow Teeth calls out like that. "You've got very loud friends."

<FS3> Nine rolls Alertness: Good Success.

<FS3> Roubani rolls Alertness: Failure.

<FS3> Harmon rolls Alertness: Success.

Nine is… pretty sure the Metallic One is not referring to her. She's pretty sure her ass isn't pretty enough to rank as 'nice' to someone with a tongue like that. Still she casts a glance across to the woman in the off-chance… and then her eyes remain oddly transfixed there, for a short moment, and she freezes in the middle of her drawing.

Eddie tugs her knit sleeve-like gloves higher on her arms, like getting ready to smack a bitch with her tore up dime store flip flop if Ms. Metal steps out of line. Eddie's shoulders bunch, like she's getting ready for an old fashioned throw down, but then, "That's right puppy, go back to the dog house. Your owner's tuggin' your leash."

You will no longer hear messages on channel <Public>.

"Sure you can." Ashe says in response towards Althea while sipping from his bottle. "You can drunk on almost anything. Milk, Lighter fluid, Viper fumes. Heck, you could get drunk on water if you drink enough. I've even seen people get drunk on desperation. Are you there yet? I mean.. wait." Suddenly Ashe sputters, "I mean, I'm not saying you're desperate… and I'm not I mean… I'm not… you're… just… the thing is with the thing is I don't think you should be you know, settling for desperation someone as strikin' as yourself, and I certainly ain't settlin' I aim for the most strikin' in the bar and work my way down… well not down really more to the side…" He pauses and shakes his head. "This is usually the part of the conversation where you slap me. Could you aim for the left cheek? The right one is sore."

Glancing behind her when Yellow Teeth barks, she just shakes her head. Back to the forefront, she chuckles at Eddie's comment. "Take that as a yes…" is said with a grin right before she takes another swig of her bottle.

Miss metal shoots her 'boss' a glance after that little outburst, and shakes her head to him. She is, in all honesty, snaking her eyes over those in her immediate vicinity, more than leering at Roubani at the moment. "Ya came in on that carrier, kid? Military brat?" Then Eddie speaks, and the woman sliiiiides a -look- her way. Looks like she's found something even shinier to play with. Off she goes, ignoring the call to get back to her table.

And of course, Harmon's smirk can't go unpunished. The gangly kid who's been flicking peanuts at people, stumbles to his feet and wrestles his arm out of Yellow Teeth's grip so he can lurch toward the older man at the bar.

Harmon sighs a little, shaking his and leaning forward over the bar towards the tender to murmur, "Do me a favor, sir, and call security." That said, he leans back against the bar with his glass and watches the kid approach in expectant silence.

Thea looks at Ashe, quirking a brow slightly, lips pursing. "I prefer to save the … interesting stuff for the second date," she tells him, voice low and quiet. A very slow smile turns her lips upwards as she peruses the young Marine. But the trouble-table catches some of the Captain's attention. "Are you finished tripping over your tongue, dear? It's a cute look for you."

"The carrier, yes. I doubt I should ask how you made your own way on. Chewed through the cargo hold, perhaps." Roubani's tone is catty, perhaps bristled from her comment. As she turns back towards Eddie he raises an eyebrow, setting the foot on the stool rung down on the floor now.

Eddie gives a quiet, "That's a yes." To Iris before she folds her arms over her chest, stance set wide but weight on one foot which throws one hip higher than the other in a saucy tilt. Metal-Face's attention is on her, which was exactly her purpose. On her, off Roubani. Chin tilts up, cigarette plucked from her lips, and a loud kissy sound is given towards the woman who would have to peel her face off just to pass through a metal detector.

Nine looks to Roubani as he starts getting catty with the Metallic one, and, drawing her lower lip into her mouth in a tacit signal, she shakes her head before casting a significant glance at the Metallic one's back, attempting to communicate that that isn't a good plan.

Iris' focus is mainly on Metal-face here. She also doesn't seem to care too much that there may be an altercation. Nope, the woman just takes another 'healthy' swig from the bottle.

The bartender's only too happy to oblige. He's probably been keeping an eye on things surreptitiously until now, and starts to reach for his wireless handset when there's a sudden shout from the 'rowdy' table. Which is presently occupied by Mr. Yellow Teeth and two of his buddies. "Drop the frakking wireless. Drop it!" Well, shit. He's got a gun. And now Miss Metal's drawing one with a click of the safety going off that's probably lost in the din of the bar. Mind you, that din's dropping off sharply as weapons come out.

"Tripping over my tongue, I'll have you know this tongue does a lot more than tripping…" Pausing, Ashe coughs and takes another drink. He's looking at Althea but then follows her line of sight and bites his lip. "Already looking to escape my horrific charms?" As things go apeshit(tm) Ashe takes another drink from his bottle. "I got your backside… and I do mean that in both a literal and metaphysical sense."

Roubani is on his feet by now, hand on the bar counter. And he rather freezes that way when guns start coming out, dark eyes blinking once. "Oh, dear."

Legacy turns very slightly on her stool, eyes sharpening on the rowdy table and Miss Metal for a long moment. "Buns can take care of herself," she murmurs to Ashe, sotto voce. "Rubix," she says, nodding her head slightly to Roubani. "And the PO." She nods slightly to Nine. Her hand picks up the bottle and she tops her drink off slowly, leaning back against the bar again with the bottle on her knee, glass in her other hand. "Get them covered."

As soon as the trouble starts, Harmon puts his class down and rests back against the bar. An eye is cast over the other faces he recognizes from Kharon, at the same time he attempts to formulate a plan of sorts in his head by determining where they're standing and their blind spots.

"I said /drop/ it!" Yellow teeth repeats, stumbling half into his chair as he tries to clear his table, gun still leveled at the bartender. The wireless is dropped, and the kid who was lurching toward Harmon is trying to get his own weapon free. Which.. well, he's drunk. This doesn't look to be going according to plan for these poor sods. Yellow teeth levels his firearm in the direction of Harmon's noggin next, perhaps perceiving him as the greater threat.

Eddie spends 1 luck points on Hoping I don't get my head shot off..

And now there are guns. More than one. Plural, even. Nine's hands shake a little bit more than is seemly for a member of the military, but she's just an engine grunt, after all. She puts her hands on the table, to either side of her sketchbook, and tries her hardest to become invisible.

<FS3> Eddie rolls Reactive +20: Good Success.

The response to Thea is a subtle wink from Ashe's eye as he slowly staggers up from the bar where he's leaning and holding his bottle starts to make his way in a drunken manner a bit closer as best he can to Roubani or Nine, whichever classifies as closer. Granted the method of his travel is hampered as he's obviously wet himself from the massive amount of fluids on the front of his pants.

<FS3> Eddie rolls Melee: Success.

Roubani spends 1 luck points on Making this roll not suck..

<FS3> Roubani rolls Reactive: Good Success.

Not particularly like guns pointed in her general direction, Eddie does what comes naturally to her. Its just a slow subtle shift at first, but then the cigarette in her fingers is flicked into the face of Ms. Metal, and a hand whips out in an attempt to disarm her.

Well, who knew that the woman in the dress could actually move. "Hey, Asshole," she calls out to the man with the gun pointed at Harmon. She swings her bottle against the bar, breaking it. "You owe me a frakking drink." Then she's sliding off her stool and standing, broken bottle held by the neck in one hand, rather jauntily. Those who can't fight, well, they're called distractions. Or Pilots. Luckily, Thea has A Voice on her, as if she's used to shouting at trainees.

Roubani reacts perhaps before he realises what he's doing. His hand whips out to the bar, grabbing an ashtray sitting right nearby. Cigarette butts go tumbling to the floor by his boot. He cocks his arm back and whips the heavy glass ashtray right at Yellow Teeth, cracking the man in the back of the head. Nobody points a gun at a superior officer.

<FS3> Iris rolls Melee: Failure.

Why hello there gun! Fancy meeting you here. Iris is taken back for a moment, but she seems to be hesitating. Eddie springs into action. Hoping to take advantage of the commotion, Iris attempts to kick at Metalface's knee, in a hope of toppling her.

<FS3> Nike rolls 5: Good Success.

Well, this is one way of figuring out who the Major's friends are. Yellow Teeth grins at the woman in the sundress waving a broken beer bottle at him, and is so distracted by her that he fails to notice Roubani lobbing an ashtray at him. There's a YELP as it smacks him in the back of the head, and he stumbles into another table of civilians, who start shrieking and scrambling over one another in case his firearm goes off.

The bartender's going for the wireless again, and Miss Metal has to contend with not one.. but /two/ women lunging at her. Eddie's grapple for her gun ends in a stalemate, and a backhand — yes, a /backhand/ — across the pilot's face. It's a solid one, too. Iris' kick finds more pinball machine than kneecap, which has gotta hurt.

Harmon opens his mouth to speak only to see an ashtray go flying and all hell breaking loose. Not the way he'd handle the situation, no, but who is he except the ranking officer. Sigh. He attempts to climb to his feet swiftly, using the benefit of not being drunk to try and lunge at the nearest firearm to him and appropriate it.

<FS3> Ashe rolls Reactive: Bad Failure.

<FS3> Harmon rolls Reactive: Success.

<FS3> Nike rolls 5: Bad Failure.

Nine is hardly comfortable out here in the open with ash trays flying and guns being waved around. Her mouth open, she breathes only shallowly, hands on the table until she eases a foot slowly out from under her and then slips down into the shadows in the substratum of the table-laden side of the bar, like the last of the bathwater dives down the drain. From her new vantage she looks toward the legs of the pinball machine, then through the forest of chair legs, table legs and people legs.

Ashe, on his way towards trying to help out the Roubani chap and the Nine lass, finds the situation abruptly changing, going from simply yelling and guns to some of the pilots swinging weapons and brandishing broken bottles. Mmm, broken bottles. Blinking, the Marine turns and starts towards the leader, keeping his eyes on the two he was tasked with making sure are safe. It's during those keeping his eyes focused he stumbles into a chair and takes a bit of a wee tumble, landing against a table and yelping as he looks at his hand to find a fork portruding from it.

Roubani glances at his hand as though tempted to scold it for acting without consulting his brain first. He sighs quietly, wincing at the sight of Yellow teeth going into the table. Going after the gun though? Not this pilot, especially not with Harmon and others heading for it. He ducks to the side to avoid a crush of people, slipping away from Ashe's line of sight.

<FS3> Nike rolls 6: Success.

Once Yellow Teeth starts to go down, Thea switches to damage control mode - though doesn't move from her position. "Get UNDER the table," she yells to the panicking civilians. She, though, remains with her back plastered to the bar, broken bottle in her hand. She's a pilot, not a fighter.

Iris spends 1 luck points on Determined to succeed at grabbing something..

<FS3> Iris rolls Melee-5: Terrible Failure.

Okay, kick the pinball machine. That was smart. Maybe she shouldn't have drank before this… Irritated and annoyed, Iris instead reaches towards Metal face to grab some of that metal and yank on it.

<FS3> Eddie rolls Melee -5: Success.

Ow. Hey. Eddie gets slapped like a two-bit whore who tried to jip her pimp out of his sixty percent. Oh no you di'n't! Eddie's face snaps away, blood welling out of the split in her lip. She's inanimate for a moment, the stun of slap stilling her a beat of the music blarring out of the jukebox. When the viper jock looks back to Ms. Metal its just a split second before Eddie's trying to bum rush her, shoulder first towards the gut.

<FS3> Nine rolls Stealth: Great Success.

Nine seems to have gone missing.

Poor Yellow Teeth. He's facefirst in someone's spilled beer, and somewhere in the midst of the kerfuffle he's lost his weapon, which Harmon's managed to snatch up. By now, his two cronies have drawn their weapons as well— and there's a *crack* as a shot rings out, taking down the poor bartender who was trying to place a call on his wireless. A few people scream and scatter, while crony #2 swivels to secure the door, though a few people do clamber under tables as per Thea's order.

Iris isn't having as much luck over there with Metal Face. That is, until she gets her hands on a nice juicy bar going through the woman's ear. Riiiip. There's blood, and a howl of pain, and if not for Eddie knocking her into the pinball machines, it's entirely possible the petty officer was about to eat lead.

<FS3> Nike rolls 4: Success.

Now armed, Harmon gets up from claiming Yellow Teeth's weapon just in time to hear a shot go off and see the bartender go down. Unfortunately for Major Harmon, military protocol and even legality leaves the forefront of his mind when the bullets start flying. He lifts the firearm, trying for a shot at the companion who thinks shooting is a good idea - he attempts a non-lethal hit but given how things are, he's more concerned with not hitting one of the civilians.

<FS3> Harmon rolls Firearms: Bad Failure.

<FS3> Legacy rolls Reactive: Bad Failure.

Well, at least it is a non-lethal hit. But it clips one of his shipmates in a bit of friendly fire, as Althea takes a bullet to— oh yes. Right in the left buttcheek.

<FS3> Ashe rolls Melee: Success.

<FS3> Nike rolls 5: Good Success.

No! Not the left butt cheek! That's the one Ashe was hoping to spank!. Speaking of Ashe, the Marine ducks his head as the sound of bullets firing is heard. Getting close to the table where Yellow Teeth was at, he springs up and pulling the fork from his hand he does what any good well trained Marine would do. With his fork-weapon, Ashe moves to attempt to disable Yellow-teeth, by either impaling the fork into him, or impaling the fork into him.

Roubani's knees slowly bend, sliding him to the floor at the edge of the bar. Dark eyes on the altercation and shooting, he flinches at the sound of another shot. His knees sliding on the ground he scooches along the floor and reaches out his long arm for the wireless that the bartender had dropped. Fingers brush the microphone and he grits his teeth, stretching just a hair more to grab it.

Thea had been on her way over the bar, using her stool for leverage, to tend to the injured bartender. It's likely rather fortunate that she was bent over the bar when Harmon's gun went off (misfired?) - otherwise it would have been her head likely hit. As it is, it's bad enough. She's propelled over the top of the bar by the bullet entering her posterior. Very soon after the dull thud of her hitting the ground, taking out a few bottles as she goes, there's the sound of cursing so inventive, so creatively violent, that most sailors would be hiding their faces in shame and filing out. The air is damn near blue.

<FS3> Iris rolls Melee+20: Good Success.

A ripped earlobe and a hit to the face, and it's just good fortune that Metalhead's currently kissing the pinball machine. "What luck," grumbles Iris as she moves to shove one elbow into the shoulder of Metal's gunarm, and yank the firearm with the other. With all the gun firing going on, one less dolt with a weapon will do them all a favor.

<FS3> Eddie rolls Athletic: Good Success.

<FS3> Iris rolls Athletic-5: Success.

<FS3> Nike rolls 3: Failure.

Eddie lets Iris take care of the little annoying gun factor. With Metal Face back against a pinball machine, Eddie steps out of the gut buster position and goes for the woman's free wrist. In a manuever that's purely self-defense 101, Eddie attempts to wrench Metal Face's hand behind her back and use her as a meat shield. Because other men still have guns. And Eddie has a severe allergy to eating lead.

Yellow Teeth is just struggling to get back to his feet, when Ashe comes springing up out of the shadows.. with a fork. Yes, a fork. That fact alone is probably enough to briefly confuse the poor man and his even poorer oral hygiene, even moreso when he's stabbed with the damn thing. It gouges him in the arm, obviously not hard enough to actually stop him, and he starts to lunge for the marine when… his feet are whisked out from under him. *Crash*. Yeah, Ashe's just /that/ good. The guy looks to have knocked his head hard enough during that fall to put him out of commission for the time being.

Crony #1 and #2 meanwhile are barking at the crowd to 'get the frak on the floor' or they'll 'start popping heads like pumpkins'.

And Miss Metal? It's safe to say she's pretty much out of the picture too. With Iris jamming her into the pinball machine with an elbow and divesting her of her gun, and Eddie hauling her to her feet to act as a meat shield, there's one less live firearm to worry about now.

Even more fun? The space station's claxxon starts going off right about then, and there's a message over the intercom about security being deployed to the cargo bay.

Okay, so he hit a fellow officer. That isn't good but he isn't about to freak out … hell, he'll use it to his own advantage. He does not get on the floor, pointing the gun at the cronies and shouting at them over the din of the claxxons and the screaming. If he's willing to indiscriminately shoot someone else from Kharon, what is he willing to do to gun wielding thugs? Harmon points the gun at them, "I think you oughta take your own frakin' advice."

<FS3> Nine rolls Stealth: Great Success.

Just come in for a nice drink and a little relaxation. Just wanted some peace and quiet for the night. Peace, however, and quiet do not seem to be something that are going to just be given to Levesque - he has to /earn/ them. As he walks into the Poseidon's Revenge bar, he is assaulted by the immediate smell of discharged ammunition, and the din of a bar fight - not to mention pistols going off left and right. He squares his shoulder, lowers himself to a crouch right away. The door closes behind him and he's almost face to face with Mr. Guard With Gun. His pupils dilate and he does the only sensible thing - he tries to lunch out and grab the guy's balls. Forcefully.

<FS3> Levesque rolls Melee - 10: Success.

Ashe blinks as he drops the yellow toothed man with his Fork of Justice (tm) and looking at it, looks back up to the last two remaining cronies. Summoning up his confidence he begins to move towards them. The arrival of Levesque seems almost providential for Ashe as his voice lifts up and he brandishes his fork towards the other one on the dance floor. "Alright. Either you put the gun down or I am going to make you my prison bitch."

Legacy spends 1 luck points on Cabinet kicking, ftw..

<FS3> Legacy rolls Athletic+20: Success.

Most of the bar's occupants are down on the floor, under tables and chairs and pinball machines, whatever they can keep between themselves and the gunmen. A few are sobbing uncontrollably, particularly one young woman who got splattered with brain goo from the bartender going down. And at least one hopelessly inebriated fellow is still trying to finish his beer.

Nine spends 1 luck points on Creepiness..

<FS3> Nine rolls Stealth-10: Good Success.

Those keen of eye keeping watch near the floor might spot a dark shape moving between people's legs, contorting far too much to be a human figure, not touching a single chair leg or human leg and squeezing through some rather impossibly small openings, moving slowly and with the careful deliberation of a shadow slipping over a contoured surface as a car's headlights move past a window.

Roubani flicks on the wireless even as the klaxons start going off. Getting up to his knees so he see what's going on by the doors, he shields the microphone with his hand when someone picks up. "Ensign Nadiv Roubani from the CEC Kharon…yes, in the bar. There's four of them, three men, one woman. Two down and two armed - one approximately fifteen feet from the door waving a gun, and one-…er…nevermind, just one….a Marine's just changed his voice to soprano." That given matter-of-factly, he glances at the bar. "Two wounded."

There's a loud thumping from behind the bar, like something is getting kicked, viciously. "You owe me a frakking pair of shoes you…" The curses get a little more muffled and a little more colorful as Thea continues to kick. Finally whatever it is breaks.

Gun in hand, and Metalface dealt with (Eddie gets a mumbled thanks) Iris squats into a kneeling position between the machines, training the gun on the man who's currently waving his weapon. Pulling her lips thin, she decides that she can't possibly disarm him. So, she'll just keep the gun trained on him… with the way her hand shift, it appears as if she's trying to wait for the right moment to take a shot…which hopefully'll be a bit easier to do should the target end up standing still thanks to Fork-boy over there.

Kicking ass wearing a skirt. Maybe it's the sort of thing Eddie gets off on, because there's a wide eerie smile splitting her lips and pulling them wide on her features. Keeping a grip on Metal Face and making sure that that woman is between Eddie and any potential bullets, the Ensign calls across to the last remaining man with a gun. "Looks like the party's over, Mister." She's not going to one-up the prison bitch comment, so why even try.

<FS3> Roubani rolls Alertness: Bad Failure.

That klaxxon keeps blaring, spilling headache-inducing red through every nook and cranny in the room for a split second, on the ten-second mark. There seems to be a security breach in progress elsewhere on the ship.

Crony number one swings his gun left and right, visibly panicking now as he sees he's got no backup from Mr. Ow You Grabbed My Balls at the door over there. Yes, Crony number two is groaning and buckling, and trying not to drop his gun. As Ashe approaches number one, he swivels and trains the barrel of his gun on the fork-wielding marine. "Drop it, you frakker. I said /drop/ it. Get on the frakking floor!" He swings toward Roubani, not sure /who/ to focus on right now. "Get the FRAK away from that!" Aaaand, he fires.

<FS3> Nike rolls 3: Success.

<FS3> Ashe rolls Melee-15: Success.

<FS3> Levesque rolls Melee +10: Good Success.

Levesque doesn't let up on his grip of Number Two's testes - if anything, he squeezes harder as the man flails in pain. His right fist raises to jab powerfully towards his quarry's throat.

Gunshots ring out, Ashe hops to his feet and charges towards the last man standing. The Fork of Justice (tm) in his hand actually twirls between his fingers as he ducks and springs towards him. The Forks prongs seek out as Ashe dives in, and find their target; the last Cronies jugular area, driving inwards with the fork. But the dumbass marine can't go without making some kind of wisecrack. "Stick a fork in him… he's done." Ashe grumbles the words out.

<FS3> Nike rolls 5: Failure.

<FS3> Nike rolls 4: Success.

<FS3> Legacy rolls Firearms: Failure.

Nine looks up at Ashe from behind the gun-weilding maniac, a red length of wire appearing between her hands as she unfolds it. As Ashe comes lunging in she grabs the ends of the wire and pulls it tight, rolling her back into the back of the gunman's knees to try to get him to fall -over- her rather than -on top- of her when he goes down, knifed in the neck.

From behind the bar comes a rather tousled, rather blood-spattered Thea. She doesn't look happy. But the woman seems to walk softly and carry a shotgun. Given her posture, she knows how to use it, too. Only one shot gets pulled off, so perhaps she's just trying to warn the gunman she's aiming at, the one who's actively shooting. She misses, but there's a hell of a boom that reverberates through the bar.

"…the cargo bay?" Roubani blinks at what the security guy on the line is telling him. He barely has time to look up at the yelling crony before CRACK, suddenly the gun goes off, and it's pointed right at the Ensign's face. The moment passes much, much more slowly for Roubani than it does for the rest of the room. The bullet rips flesh and slams into the wooden side of the bar behind him, splintering it. The difference between the laceration now dripping blood on his collar, and what would have been the end of his life, is less than an inch. There's still a voice in his ear, which he processes after a very long few seconds where he'd forgotten to breathe. "…they're…all down."

<FS3> Iris rolls Firearms: Success.

"Frak." Iris curses as she steadies her aim. The Forking happens, and while she guesses it might be that, she doesn't take any chances. Thankful she's better at shooting than she is in a fist fight, she takes her shot to pop the man in his gun hand. With any luck, it'll hit it's mark. Iris is a big believer in 'Just in case'…

<FS3> Eddie rolls Alertness: Failure.

The 'lady' Eddie has a hold of is lucky that the viper jock doesn't see that shot rip through her buddy there by the wireless. Damn lucky. Things would be far less pleasant for old Metal Face. As it stands, Eddie is oblivious to the fact that Roubani is now bleeding, more concerned with the fact that this butch bitch isn't incapacitated fully yet. A quick knock to the back of her knees sends Ms. Metal down to the ground hard into a kneeling position, Eddie still having a firm grip on her wrist.

What was in actuality probably only five minutes, felt more like a lifetime to some of the terrified civilians packed in under tables and chairs. But that ear-splitting *bang* of Althea's borrowed shotgun seems to signal an end to the mayhem; crony number one goes down in a hail of forks, wires and well-placed shots, the latter neatly clipping his gunhand as he topples over Nine and crashes to the floor in a heap. Crony number two, meanwhile, has lost his tentative grasp on his own weapon and is crumpling against Levesque in stunned agony. Miss Metal goes down with a grunt, knocking her chin on the pinball machine on her way— and the bar's a veritable graveyard of broken bottles, spilled beer and the odd blood splatter.

Cue, right on time, the station's security. There are shouts and clattering boots as they come bustling in, armed to the teeth and with a contingent of the Kharon's own marines accompanying them. "On the floor. ON THE FLOOR. All of you! Get on the frakking floor and put DOWN your weapons!"

Levesque pushes Number Two onto the floor, kicking his handgun away and then falling on top of him. He raises his hand to the door to motion towards him. "Need some tie wraps to bind him!" He shouts.

Thea drops the shotgun on the bar top and moves over toward Roubani, ending up on her knees in the blood and glass. Yeah, the dress is ruined and she's muttering curses. "Rubix. You ok?"

Nine does finish tying off One's feet, then his hands, once she's gotten herself out from under his calves. She slips her scissors from her pocket, snips the wire and tosses the spool to Levesque before flattening herself to the floor, as requested.

Ashe rolls off of whats left from the last gun holder and slowly picks himself up to his feet. Looking at the arriving security, he tucks his bloody fork into his hip of his pants and starts to make his way towards the bar hoping to beat security there. "Alright, where's my beer and my beautiful date?" A touch of concern in his voice as he actually moves quickly towards where he last saw the Thea.

Iris pulls her lips thin at the orders. "Late t'the party as usual." But she complies, putting the gun down on the ground and pushing it smartly towards the door. Hands behind her head and she's on both her knees in a psoition of surrender.

Iris's also going to lay belly down on the ground, Yeah, no getting shot here.

Roubani shifts on the floor, rolling onto his knees. He follows the orders of the shouting security + Marines, lying down on his stomach. The wireless is still on his head, and blood drips steadily onto the fake wood flooring. "Fine. Please get down before they shoot you, sir."

Eddie lets Ms. Metal fall in a heap as she may, her thumb hooking on her dog tags and pulling them free of her top so they dangle as she raises her hands. She's in civvies afterall, easy to mistake for some of the riff raff. Eyes seek out Roubani to make sure he's okay, while she's sinking to her knees so the incoming contingancy sees her as no threat.

One of the hired security beefcakes swings his rifle toward Ashe and barks, "On the godsdamned floor. NOW." The rest of them are going around relinquishing firearms and checking dogtags and wounds, to compare to the count they received from Roubani.

Seeing a gun getting trained at him, along with a voice, Ashe turns and his eyes narrow locking on the hired hand. Every detail of the security guard is taken in, saved, deposited into memory as a small smile slips across his lips. Hands up in the air, clearly unarmed, he begins to lower himself while contemplating how best to dispose of that security guards body in such a way to not raise any concerns.

Either Thea Legacy has had a naughty past or she's been drilled in security procedures. As soon as she's sure Roubani is alright, she's on her stomach, hands behind her head. More blood. More glass. And a bullet firmly lodged in her asscheek. "I don't think I'm going to make that meeting with the CAG," she murmurs to no one in particular.

Levesque nods to Nine as she chucks him the wire spool. He quickly binds the man as tightly as possible without cutting off his circulation too badly. Once that's done, he moves towards the man's firearm a few metres away, unloading it and making safe. The last thing he does is point a finger at the security guard. "Hey. Frak-tard. Lower your weapon. Do you not see that he's Kharon crew?"

Eddie produces her military ID from Highlander Space, better used for the storage of Katanas when you're trying to be 'The Only One'. Where else would she keep it in that getup besides her bra? After she's questioned and medical attention is waved off for her busted lips, Eddie's trying to find Roubani in all the remaining chaos.

Roubani gets up once they've checked his ID, staying crouched on the ground for a while. Some medic's handed him a wad of gauze to press against the gunshot wound for now. His somber dark eyes turn upwards when Eddie gets close. "Are you alright?"

After getting his ID and tags checked, Ashe rises up and clambors over the bar area and plants himself down. Next to who? Well of course next to Legacy. "Well Cap.. I'm going to go ahead and say it. This was without a doubt the best date I've ever been on. How you feelin'?"

Poor Thea gets to remain on her stomach, even after her dogtags are checked. She gets to roll as far as her right hip. "If I ever find out who shot that frakking bullet," she growls quietly, face bright red. It would appear she's just now realizing she's been shot. "I don't know where it got me. I just know where it hurts." Her eyes move up to Ashe and she narrows them slightly. "If you treat all your dates this way, it's no wonder you're still single. Go drink your godsdamned milk."

Eddie tips her chin a little higher at Roubani's question, and the tip of her tongue darts out over the split in her lip with the reminder. "Wish I could say the same for you." She hitches her head towards the door. "C'mon. We should get you back to the Kharon. Docs'll wanna stitch you up." No doubt someone will be in with a gurney for the Captain.

Getting checked out and everything, Iris gets up and groans. "Wehre'd I put it…" Oh there's her bottle. As she wasn't hurt, she has no one really lingering. She does need a drink, and as her bashing-mate has walked off, she'll just stand here and continue to nurse the bottle she came here to drink.

Nine keeps herself on the ground until she's checked on and questioned, then she slinks back to her table to fetch her book and sack. As if afraid to stand above table-height, she crouches there, looking over the aftermath. She spots Roubani wounded… and Thea… but can't say how or when they got like that. Somewhere in all the shooting. She looks to her cylon for a moment longer, then closes the drafting book, tucking it away in her bag.

"Treat you this way? Hey, I wanted to stay at your side but no, I go off cause you tell me to." Ashe shakes his head slowly and grins at her. "Cap, you want I'll carry you to medbay. I am all torn up that you are hurtin' but… I can't save everyone."

Levesque moves to help treat some of the wounded people around after admonishing the security guard.

Levesque heads through the exit labeled <CR> Central Ring.
Levesque has left.

As in pain as Thea is, she starts reaching for a weapon, any weapon. Broken bottle would work. Luckily, Ashe is saved by the arrival of the gurney and the medics who are hiding their snickers - or trying to. "Can someone get word to the CAG, please, that I won't be back until I'm stitched up?" And then she's loaded onto the gurney, biting her lower lip to keep from cursing.

"I'm fine," Roubani says, quietly. He stands up, the corners of his mouth in a slight frown. "Where's Captain Legacy? I thought I saw her fall. And the PO from engineering. Oh, look at your face…"

Eddie raises a hand to where the gurney is being wheeled. "They got the Captain. She'll be fine. The PO, though…" She glances around, and shrugs. "Dunno." Dark eyes turn back towards Roubani, focusing intently on his face. "It's fine. Nothing another beer, and a kiss to my boo boo won't fix. Seeming how you're not apt to give me either, you are going to medbay. Now. Or I'll find some brass to order your ass down there, and then I'll stand behind you the entire time, threatening your book collection and your clean laundry until you do." The bar is a disaster, with security carting off some rough looking individuals and some wounded folks from the Kharon being rounded up.

"I'll visit you Cap, I promise. I'll bring flowers, chocolates…anything you want." There's a grin on Ashe's lips as he watches Althea get hauled off on the gurney and then shakes his head and frowns looking around. "What… a frakkin' day…" Then it comes, out of nowhere. Seeing the blood, seeing the fact that there's someone dead that he made that way… Ashe let's the spew fly free.

Roubani hesitates, but well. He knows she's serious about the books and laundry. "Alright." He pauses to see if she's walking that way too, but the sound of Ashe hoarking makes him speed up a bit. Now that's gross.

Roubani heads through the exit labeled <CR> Central Ring.
Roubani has left.

Eddie follows Roubani out, an odd mother hen.

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