Capt. Shayne: A Case of the Cleaned Clock
Quinn
((Hanger Bay, Deep Space 33))
Shayne: Careful there, now! You hit a window hard enough, this whole bay is gonna depressurize!
Behind him, he knew MacKenna and Waters were performing their own duties, but the distance between them belated any aid from one to the other in something approaching a reasonable time frame. But it also meant his words would go largely unheard, and that was a luxury in his current position. He could see the blossoming, hating fury in Archinell’s face; unless that was just what she looked like when faced with a minor annoyance or inconvenience. Shayne hoped he was proving to be both, and then hoped he’d demonstrate his ability to be a hell of lot more.
Suddenly, his evasive strategy turned heel entirely, and the burly captain howled in wrathful disgust before throwing himself forward. He could punch when needed, but he wanted to keep his hands functioning, and besides, he had always been more of a grappler. As the pair crunched against the deck, he grabbed her collar, or whatever was closest to it, and shoved it back against the deck. A hundred million years of relevant evolution, and still the greatest weapon against the physical form was a hard floor and a relentlessly pissed off individual to make introductions.
Shayne: Happy with yourself? You should be!
Archinell: Response
Another few crunching blows, each one capable of dazing a fully grown Klingon. But Shayne had little intention of letting up. The advantage was Archinell’s in height and size and weight and relative readiness for a broiler somewhere; Shayne didn’t dare take that for granted. He’d read Game of Thrones.
A crunch to his nose came from nowhere, and he rolled off, batting away tears. Confound the body for crying on his behalf. He’d decide when he’s show feeling, and not before this creature, who had already done everything possible to undermine him. She had a mission, yes- a mission to destabilize or dismantle or dissuade or something; but none of that required her to mock him. That was done strictly because she wanted to, and for that, he’d-
-stir backward, the wind out of his esophagus, Archinell’s advantage already regained. Now the fists came out, chunky blocks of fleshy but well-coordinated knuckles swinging and hitting more than he missed, which was a nice change of pace.
Shayne: You just had to get personnel. You enjoyed it! You found a loose bit of string and you pulled it out! Are you just trying… to piss… me off?!
More punches, losing accuracy but increasing in vivaciousness. Archinell looked overwhelmed to the captain, but before he truly won, there was an important message to get through her head and potentially other places, a lesson he would carve into the universe if he had to.
Shayne: Don’t. Call. Me. Randal.
With a final bloody, sweaty, snarly punch, the captain collapsed atop Archinell; hardly the image of powerful wrath he wanted to convey but sufficient for the purposes now in hand.
Archinell/MacKenna/Waters: Response
Ash and Chloe’s steps bounded close, and Shayne was determined to stand before they arrived fully. Swallowing a bit of blood that pocketed itself in his bottom lip, he coughed and snarled at the discontented state of his appearance.
Shayne: Argh, I’m alright. Sorry you had to see that.
MacKenna/Waters: Response
He panted like a father forced to chase after an errant puppy.
Shayne: I’m not fortunate enough to have killed her, am I?
MacKenna/Waters: Response
He scoffed in that inimitably discontent way of his.
Shayne: What was that you were doing over there?
Waters/MacKenna: Response
Tag/TBC…
Captain Randal Shayne
Commanding Officer
USS Arrow
NCC 69829
G239202RS0