1LT Arturo Maxwell: Nae Fightin'

[Iain Turnbull]

(Gymnasium, Deck 5, Octavia E Butler)

Milly: I promise to no get up tae any mischief, da. Now away you go!

She had waved her hands in a gesture of mock-dismissal and Max had kissed the top of her head before walking out of their quarters chuckling to himself. Give it an hour, and she'd probably have managed to find her way into the captains ready room or somewhere else she shouldn't be. Such places always seemed to be the preferred location for her to sit and read.

Walking in to the gym, Max noted that Nilsen was already gloved up and looking rather tense. Pointing at a punch bag, Nilsen spoke first.

Nilsen: Hold it up

Maxwell: Aye right. ::Stepping up, Max braced the bag:: Let's go lad.

O’Reilly: Hey brother (beat) L-T, mind if I join you guys?

Glancing to the side, Max gave a nod of welcome to the other Marine. Nilsen struck the bag a few times, letting out a loud curse before stalking around for a moment. He then stepped back in, raining down blows onto the bag.

Nilsen: How the hell could he? ::punches bag:: I stood by him all this time. He’s just gone and thrown it all away!

Caras: Do… do you need me to ,uh, alternate holding the bag?

Maxwell: Might be best if I stay here lad. ::Leaning slightly to bring Nilsen into his line of sight.:: Want tae clarify who “he” is or are we gonnae play twenty questions?

Max braced the bag again as Nilsen hammered the bag with increasing force.

Nilsen: Toxin has! Everything we had built in ops. ::Punches bag:: Everything we had together ::punches again:: He’s just thrown it away ::Punches repeatedly::

The comment was measured.

A touch of light humour, but with a tiny barb attached to it. He knew full well it would fire Nilsen up a tad more and burn out some of this bubbling anger just that little bit quicker.

Maxwell: Arlil? You boys getting divorced or something?

O’Reilly: I think I saw him in the hall just now.

Caras: What does he think you did?

Nilsen: How dare I have thoughts of my own? ::punches bag:: How dare I use my initiative? ::punches bag again::

Still braced, Max barbed again.

Maxwell: That all you can manage? You're slowing doon already boy.

Nilsen: And you know the worst part? ::punches bag:: Doing this right now ::punches bag:: to get it out of myself ::punches again:: I’m proving his damn point.

O’Reilly: Are you Lhando? Don’t you think he’s being a little stubborn from what I’ve heard?

Stubborness was both a blessing and a curse in a frienship from Max's experience. Especially with his younger brother, Henry. They were two literal chips off the old block, and had been pratically inseperable for most of their lives. Not only brothers they were best friends and would fight to their very deaths for each other, but that didn't mean they hadn't butted heads a few times over the years.

If anything, those clashes had just bonded them ever tighter.

Caras: If not getting angry when you’re disrespected is wrong, then who really wants to be right?

Max raised a hand, palm up and beckoned at Nilsen.

Maxwell: Come on lad, bring it.

Pacing around, Nilsen stepped in again to strike the bag.

O’Reilly: What happened between you two?

Nilsen: I…I don’t even know. I just pulled me into the office and laid into me. I…I…

Another blow landed on the back with a dull thump.

Caras: It’s hard to believe that he’d throw it all away. Did he dismiss you? Are you no longer Assistant Chief of ops?

Nilsen paused a moment to answer the Orions question.

Nilsen: No…I’ve still got the post…but I’m on gamma shift now…In other words…:hitting the bag again:: out ::hit:: of ::hit:: the ::hit:: way ::hit::

As O'Reilly moved onto using a pair of dumbbells, Max readjusted his stance with the bag.

O’Reilly: You don’t have to share but…this seems so big. Never seen you like this.

Caras: Why does that seem worse than just flat out sending you to another duty post.

Nilsen: Because it is. This is how you manage someone out ::hits bag:: you reduce their work ::hits bag:: pull them away from anything they’re working on ::hits bag::

Maxwell: Bit ae space might do the pair ae you some good lad.

O’Reilly: What do you think caused it?

Caras: I couldn’t believe what he said about you on the last mission. I don’t think I would say that even if it were true for anyone.

Nilsen: The thing about me just being a circumstance of convivence??? ::hits bag:: Yeah I remember that ::hits bag:: and I was so willing to forget about it; you know…because of the visions and all the stuff ::hits:: but I know what exactly what started this. He wasn’t happy that my team got to negotiate with the UDP. ::hits bag:: Something I’m proud off ::hits bag:: First time ever I do something right ::hits bag:: I use my position for good and he don’t like it ::hits bag::

Each blow to the bag was accompanied by a yell or a curse, and inwardly Max smiled to himself. At least it meant the anger was being vented, and if need be Max would stand here all day. Unless he got hungry of course, then O'Reilly could stand here whilst Max went off to indulge in one of his favourite pasttimes.

Maxwell: Something has got tae have changed tae bring all this out.

O’Reilly/Nilsen/Any: Response

Caras: Maybe his new lover is jealous of you and wants you gone.

That brought Nilsen to a halt, breathing heavily as he looked at Morro.

Nilsen: What?

Caras: I heard him say something about Henry under his breath during the last mission. It sounded… Intimate.

Nilsen: The guy down in waste processing? Dyed hair? The guy we both met here?

Max had no idea who this Henry was, offering O'Reilly a shrug as he looked over at the other Marine.

O’Reilly: Response

At that moment they were joined (Har!) by a Trill officer that Max had yet to speak with properly.

Nis: Uh … hi everyone! :: gulping::  Yeah, we didn’t hear any of that. Not sure what y’all are talking about at all. :: Scratching her neck :: Okay, well we’re done on the wall for the day. Have a nice train-- ::bites her tongue to avoid saying “have a nice training session” :: Yup.

Nilsen: Where’d you come from? ::beat:: No…no…stick around doc. ::To Caras:: What you mean lover? Like he’s saying something to Arlill? ::Beat:: Nah…he would have…Arlill would have told me he’s dating? Right?

It was good that Nilsen wasn't swinging for a moment, actively asking for others to stay and talking to them. For now, Max maintained his position at the bag. Just in case.

Nis: Dating, or, you know, maybe hallucinating a little. 

Maxwell: Show me somebody aboard who hasnae seen weird things recently.

Nilsen/O’Reilly/Caras: Response

Nis: He’s been acting a bit strange since the Dow incident. He visited medical for a follow-up after the Dow incident, and he wasn’t weird but . . . something was off. We don’t know. We’re missing some piece of the puzzle, that’s all we know. 

Nilsen: We’re meant to be bros right? Me and Arlill. ::Beat:: How could I have missed that? No wonder he was slipping away all the time

Nilsen seemed to visibly swell as his anger bubbled up once again.

Nilsen: But if this Henry is twisting things? ::: Sizing up the bag:: I’m going to rip his throat out.

A heavy blow thudded into the bag, and Max readjusted his grip.

The words burst forth from Nilsen, almost as if they were desperate to be voiced. To further vent the pressure within him.

Nilsen: Oh I bet I know what he said. I get too emotional ::beat:: and I need a break ::hits bag:: Well I’m sorry for caring about what happens in my OC and not sitting in my ivory tower ::hits bag:: I’m sorry that when I saw the worst moment of life on the Dow, I wasn’t as cold as a Vulcan.::hits bag:: I'm sorry your new boyfriend is manipulating you.

O’Reilly/Caras: Response

At that moment Nilsen seemed to forget about the bag, calling out to open a commline.

Nilsen: I’m going to ::yells:: =/\= Computer locate Henr...

Nis: Wait! If that is his boyfriend, we don’t know, that seems, like, really invasive. Just saying.

Releasing the bag, Max strode around it and bore down on his very angry pal.

Striding up to the taller Engineer and with lightning speed, Max delivered a sharp Gibbs Slap to the back of Nilsen's head. A good six inches shorter, as he crossed his arms Max somehow seemed to still be looking down at his fellow officer.

Maxwell: You can welly that bag until your hands bleed laddie. But you're no laying a hand on another member ae this crew. ::He paused for barely a heartbeat.:: You understand me, aye?

Nilsen/O’Reilly/Caras: Response

Nis: Maybe you’re right. But maybe one of us should do it. For example, we could call him into medical. Dr. Toz asked us to go through most of the crew anyway to make sure there weren’t lingering effects from the Dow. And it’s obvious that there are some, cause like we said, Lt. Toxin is probably hallucinating, so, you know, we should probably take a look at him anyway. But that way you’re not confronting him, we are. And it won’t even seem like a confrontation, it’ll just be natural doctor-speak.

Uncrossing his arms, Max jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Maxwell: Listen tae the doc here. ::His expression lightened.:: Nae fighting.

O’Reilly/Nis/Caras/Nilsen: Response

--

1st Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell.

Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.

USS Octavia E Butler: NCC-82850.

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