(( Interior. U.S.S. Arrow, outside Cargo Bay 1. ))
Ghant: You Starfleet are all the same. You think your training, your "mission" gives you something over the rest of the universe. A disgusting piety that underscores your profound arrogance. I MADE myself. FOUGHT to become something more than just another bought and traded courtesan of cruel royalty. As my chains broke, I broke others, gaining respect and riches by the end of a blade and deeds in battle. Not with words and naked expansionism. You and I are actually the same, my petal. I just have the clarity to see the work for what it really is. Bloody and driven by self-interest.
Maria managed her last gain with a crafty, if sloppy set of strikes. She'd gained a bit of ground, but her exhaustion and lack of proper form were taking over the fight.
Alvarez: Even if I did
believe any of your story, I'm still going to take you down and evict
your motley crew off my ship. Almost everyone comes through adversity
and hardship, that's no excuse to become a gleefully violent thug.
Ghant: You say "violent". I say I have "perspective".
Maria missed the fist coming at her face, and yelled in pain when it connected at full force, giving up precious advantage. She tasted some of the blood in her mouth, and no doubt there was some on her face too now. She grinned foolishly, undeterred by the damage sustained by her body and the pain it was in. Standing was getting harder and harder.
Alvarez: Yeah? And what makes you think that?
Ghant: You think this a dance. But I know it for what it is. Life and death.
Boots flashed up, and before there was even a chance to react, Maria found herself hurtling towards the floor - where on the floor she wasn't particularly sure. She felt her head hit something hard as she fell, a wall maybe. She struggled desperately to breath, the wind knocked out of her chest, her diaphragm simply refusing to work the way it should. Her body refused to move from the face-up sprawl she found herself, but she knew nothing was too broken from the pain signals reaching her body from all over her body. She could feel her head slipping as her chest fought just to draw oxygen.
She was only just barely aware of another person facing down Ghant...
Wilde: ::theatrically.:: Well, well, well. If it isn’t Captain Hook?
Ghant: AH! My Pretty! Have you come to see your admirer off, Pretty?
Despite herself, she smiled. She wheezed out a noiseless laugh at the absurdity of it all, kicking her lungs back to working order. Still, it wasn't enough to stop the fuzziness of everything encroaching. She steadily lost track of what was going on, mostly aware of some kind of fight ensuing between the Lieutenant. She couldn't really hear what they were saying, but judging from the ferocity and ugliness of it, no one was walking away from this one in one piece. She could only barely, weakly crawl to cover, and try to let her body take a moment to recover, and maybe... just maybe maintain consciousness. Or not? She just fixated on why she came down here. oO Manual shunt, manual shunt, manual shunt... Oo
(( OOC: Wilde, I'm out of your way for the moment. ))
TBC...
