Post by tylatz on Dec 4, 2009 2:54:42 GMT -5
“What the hell was that shit?!” Des roared in the dark jungles of Asia. A small vein to the side of his forehead erupted from the slightest bump to Olympus Mons when Vito informed him of what took place on the Medea. Skin stretched far too thin across his knuckles blanches white and eyes flicker between the two men standing in front of him. Adrenal glands pollute his veins catalyzing every little motion giving his entire body the semblance of shuddering all of which goes unnoticed by the inebriated senses high off the intoxicating rush of energy surging through him.
Nu shrugs with little concern for the raging man, “so it didn't go to fuckin' plan. It happens. Who gives a fuc-” His sentence was terminated prematurely courtesy the impact created by the back of Des's hand that lashed out too fast for Nu to react. The blow grated Nu's lower lip across his upper canines ripping open the soft inner-lip tissue. Blood spattered the ground and poured freely into Nu's mouth with a warm taste of iron.
“I give a fuck!” Des berated his subordinate with a force that flicked drops of saliva from his tongue and onto Nu's face and brought a disturbing level of satisfaction to the man who once broke people's morale with just this method. “You blew a fucking job! A big fucking job! And you,” Des's left hand shot out and entangled itself in Vito's collar pulling the surprised Italian kid close, “grow a fuckin' pair already!”
A sudden movement in his peripheral vision alerted Des of the impending attack and while his mind still processed the information of what he was seeing his body was already reacting on a honed sense of self preservation. It wasn't fast enough to prevent the slashing blade from slicing into the tender flesh of Des's torso and etching a notch into the ribs that absorb the impact just beneath. Blood skittered into an arc from the wound tracing the curve of the assault that perverted itself into a thrust for his heart. Off balance from the first attack and opened by the instinctive reaction to the strike Des could only manage to nudge the blade off track with a short jab of his right hand. Nu, sure of his success, had placed his full weight into the attack and the slight redirection sent him charging past Des whom spun away with Nu's own momentum.
Metal slid against greased metal to form a pleasing sound that ended in a click that spoke much louder than the words anyone could say at that moment. Pistols were leveled on Nu who stood still with bloodied knife in hand and glaring at Des. It had come to that time once again and there was only one way to settle this without anyone getting killed. A wave of Des's hands and the pistols were lowered.
“Come on you piece of shit,” Des goaded between clenched teeth and lips trembling from snarl to smile then back again as his body bent into a forward leaning posture with his arms outstretched in preparation for the attack.
The first attack came, but it was cautious and far short of being in range still instincts forced Des to sway back. Next swing was closer, but a light hop carried him out of range. A third followed much quicker to push the disadvantage of landing from the hop and forced Des to kick backwards with a twist to reduce the damage to a superficial cut across his abdomen and ruined uniform. Nu attacked deep this time by rolling his shoulder forward into an overextended thrust providing all the invitation Des needed. His left hand clasped Nu's wrist and gave a terse pull that sent the man stumbling towards Des. A quick right jab from Des found its mark just beneath Nu's chin. The younger man crumpled to the ground struggling to breath.
After a solid kick to Nu's stomach forcing him to exhale Des was bent over and spitting saliva laced words into his face once more. “Get the fuck up and get your shit! We don't have time for this bull shit!” A second kick smashed into Nu's stomach in time with the final word for added emphasis so it wouldn't be forgotten. “That goes for all of you. We've got shit to do so grab your bags and let's go!” Alpha platoon as a whole began gathering their stuff for the trip ahead of them. “Sergei, how long do we have before our flight leaves?”
“Hour and a half,” Sergei sighs while looking down at Nu. It wasn't that he didn't agree with the discipline, but he had a feeling that sooner or later Des would go just a bit too far.
“Too long. Call ahead and tell them they have twenty minutes,” Des started to leave to grab his own gear, but stopped to put another boot into Nu's chest first.
“Twenty? How the hell do you expect us to make it there in twenty minutes?”
“Find a way!”
Nu shrugs with little concern for the raging man, “so it didn't go to fuckin' plan. It happens. Who gives a fuc-” His sentence was terminated prematurely courtesy the impact created by the back of Des's hand that lashed out too fast for Nu to react. The blow grated Nu's lower lip across his upper canines ripping open the soft inner-lip tissue. Blood spattered the ground and poured freely into Nu's mouth with a warm taste of iron.
“I give a fuck!” Des berated his subordinate with a force that flicked drops of saliva from his tongue and onto Nu's face and brought a disturbing level of satisfaction to the man who once broke people's morale with just this method. “You blew a fucking job! A big fucking job! And you,” Des's left hand shot out and entangled itself in Vito's collar pulling the surprised Italian kid close, “grow a fuckin' pair already!”
A sudden movement in his peripheral vision alerted Des of the impending attack and while his mind still processed the information of what he was seeing his body was already reacting on a honed sense of self preservation. It wasn't fast enough to prevent the slashing blade from slicing into the tender flesh of Des's torso and etching a notch into the ribs that absorb the impact just beneath. Blood skittered into an arc from the wound tracing the curve of the assault that perverted itself into a thrust for his heart. Off balance from the first attack and opened by the instinctive reaction to the strike Des could only manage to nudge the blade off track with a short jab of his right hand. Nu, sure of his success, had placed his full weight into the attack and the slight redirection sent him charging past Des whom spun away with Nu's own momentum.
Metal slid against greased metal to form a pleasing sound that ended in a click that spoke much louder than the words anyone could say at that moment. Pistols were leveled on Nu who stood still with bloodied knife in hand and glaring at Des. It had come to that time once again and there was only one way to settle this without anyone getting killed. A wave of Des's hands and the pistols were lowered.
“Come on you piece of shit,” Des goaded between clenched teeth and lips trembling from snarl to smile then back again as his body bent into a forward leaning posture with his arms outstretched in preparation for the attack.
The first attack came, but it was cautious and far short of being in range still instincts forced Des to sway back. Next swing was closer, but a light hop carried him out of range. A third followed much quicker to push the disadvantage of landing from the hop and forced Des to kick backwards with a twist to reduce the damage to a superficial cut across his abdomen and ruined uniform. Nu attacked deep this time by rolling his shoulder forward into an overextended thrust providing all the invitation Des needed. His left hand clasped Nu's wrist and gave a terse pull that sent the man stumbling towards Des. A quick right jab from Des found its mark just beneath Nu's chin. The younger man crumpled to the ground struggling to breath.
After a solid kick to Nu's stomach forcing him to exhale Des was bent over and spitting saliva laced words into his face once more. “Get the fuck up and get your shit! We don't have time for this bull shit!” A second kick smashed into Nu's stomach in time with the final word for added emphasis so it wouldn't be forgotten. “That goes for all of you. We've got shit to do so grab your bags and let's go!” Alpha platoon as a whole began gathering their stuff for the trip ahead of them. “Sergei, how long do we have before our flight leaves?”
“Hour and a half,” Sergei sighs while looking down at Nu. It wasn't that he didn't agree with the discipline, but he had a feeling that sooner or later Des would go just a bit too far.
“Too long. Call ahead and tell them they have twenty minutes,” Des started to leave to grab his own gear, but stopped to put another boot into Nu's chest first.
“Twenty? How the hell do you expect us to make it there in twenty minutes?”
“Find a way!”