The Outfield

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge hadn't been expecting her to try and throw him... but her armor weighed half what his did even without his two hundred some odd pounds stuffed into it. Still, momentum was a killer and despite the fact he was convinced she was going to dislocate her shoulder in the course of trying to flip him... that didn't stop him from being dragged along for the ride.

Mostly.

The arm she grabbed twisted as she tightened her grip and the gauntlet closed around one of her forearms - his gauntlets had been designed on Mandalorian crushgaunts, only larger and therefore, if one were to use the obvious train of logic, stronger. So, mid being pulled, her threw his weight off to one side fully intent on winding up on the ground to simultaneously crush her forearm in his grip and slam her to the ground in retaliation.

Either way, he was on the deck one way or another.

[member="Mao"]

 

[Mao]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Well, what followed suit answered that question. Didn't matter suit or no, one could definitely get the wind knocked out of you. Both went crashing onto the floor with a resonating thud that was enough to shake the platform beside them.

Karkin' gorram sonofasithharlot!

Mao was thinking it, because she sure wasn't blasted saying it. What came out was more of this garbled cursed ladened cacophony. Pain registered, but she wasn't one to go down easy -- well breathing was kinda important so that took a few seconds to get her wind back.

FETH!

Granted, this now left them both on the ground. Time to see if she could straddle up. Maybe send a few good pot shots at the weaker joints, get him to stay down.

What she would give for her vibroshiv right now.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Getting himself up off the ground wasn't going to be something that was quick or even easy. So, rather than attempt to do something stupid, he just rolled onto his back. Before long she was straddling him and raining blows where she could. It was starting to dent even his own considerable armor, and before long warning lights were flashing on the HUD.

Grimacing through more pain than he'd felt in awhile, physically that is, he lifts his left gauntlet, jams it into her side and what followed was the click of the bolter as the safety disengaged. Suit was working OK, that was for sure.

[member="Mao"]

 

[Mao]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Guess Mao was finally gonna get her wish. Tribute of the day. A kind of oblivion. Funny, it wasn't knee deep in the trenches fighting some shutta of a Sith. Granted, one couldn't simply go HAM on Mao without her body conditioned responses to point blank shots.

Only, eh -- she was more used to blocking and parrying arms that were of the regular blaster and slug variety -- not bolters. Those fethers were an altogether different kind of karkin chitstorm.

Even with her arm coming down to parry the gauntlet, it didn't stop the bulk of the boltgun ammunition from ripping through her suit's armor, ripping and tearing through flesh and organs as soon as the charges detonated.

A pure cry of pure blood curling fury came next. Cries? A third voice entered the fray, but that one would register with the roar of the Force.

No, it wasn't Mao -- she was too busy burning through adrenaline as blood went flowing out of her side. The scent of charred flesh would storm through the air and her HUD was starting to look as if in the midst of a Life Day's celebration. This was someone else. Another entirely.

System Critical. NO FETHING CHIT!

Mao's eyes would flash electric fire, anger roaring a cry of retribution in her head. Pain saw her vision into stark clarity, and her next act went to making sure the frakker wasn't about to get another round at her. Shots would continue to fire but she'd avoid them as her attention went to damaging the side mounted magazine with a few precise hits.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

That wasn't what supposed to happen.

The hell. The safety and the... oh by the Force this was bad. Real bad.

Right. Her suit should be pumping her with painkillers and bacta right now. Won't solve the problem but it'll hold her together. Not good.

Bolter Offline.

Kark. At least it wasn't firing anymore. How the hell had that happened?

Well, she's distracted so....

He did the only thing he could think to do... wait it out. Hitting her would make it worse, and the alarms were already sounding. That many rounds going off in a secure area always meant trouble, and first response units were already on the way to asses casualties. Just had to buy time and pray she wasn't about to try and smash his face in with something he'd left lying around the room.

[member="Mao"]

 

[Mao]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]


You only think with that which is between your legs or your mouth Mao -- stop and think every once and a while.

Voices would haunt her. So many. Time would speed up only to slow. It was a confusing mix of demons in her head along with that blasted rage.

Blood would smear a dark stain as the suit did what it was supposed to do. It pumped the sickly sweet bacta into her body, but adrenaline wouldn't notice a hint of it.

No, not in her bloodrage.

Up and at 'em, she was there again and this time, there was no mercy. She gave it all. Critical mass of messages would hurt her eyes but she paid no mind to it.

Her goal was on taking him down. Ain't no budging. She oft was told she was so stubborn to the point she would die before she gave up. Ain't that the truth.

Feet would pound as they would rush towards this little lovers abode they were in, but Mao was too busy sending a series of hits against her now prone target. Needed to jerk the power out of that beytoch. The Battery.

Every bit of her fury, pain, misery, and blasted karkin demons went into taking as much of the Colonel as she could down.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Rather unfortunately for [member="Mao"], she was hitting the front of a suit designed to be hit in the front by more than what she was dishing out. He'd quickly ascertained it's use as a boarding armor and adjusted accordingly. Eventually, however, he had had far more than enough. Rage or not, he was swinging back with all the power that enhanced suit could muster.

The armory door opened and there was some muffled shouting. "Kill switch." He roars, and one of the medics ran to the nearby console and began fiddling with the console until he found what he needed. He'd put the kill switch in the prototype just in case some fresh faced grunt with a bit too much arrogance and not enough sense decided to sneak in and try the armor out.

By and large was he thankful for that now, even as the man swatted the kill button to lock the suit up entirely. It's muscles, receiving no power, would cease to help her move the now deadweight suit. He slammed the gauntlet of his arm into the ground in frustration hard enough to shatter the bolter casing, rounds spilling out onto the floor.

He wanted to yell. Scream.

But he bit his tongue.

Literally.

 

[Mao]

Her body instantly felt heavy as the suit shut down, more so than the last time she partook of this particular dance. Her legs shook as her strength fled, body aching as that bit of adrenaline began to wane.

“Kriffin’…son of a--” Mao muttered with a hoarse whisper as what little strength she had left fled her body, and she went dropping to one knee Time slowed as chaos abounded and thunder roared.

“BLUE!”

Or more like Hardock roared. Frakin’ ‘ell, the Firrerreo struggling to remain conscious as she kneeled in a growing pool of her own blood and innards.

The Force would rip through in ferocious display -- Zero Four had joined the chaos and in this he was not to be denied.

A blast of telekinetic energy would burst from the man to [member="Sarge Potteiger"], wrath incarnate as the Omega clone would lash at the one responsible for harming his charge. This wasn’t going to end well. Mao watched the scene unfold with quickly glazing eyes, her body already beginning to shut down. Jerking in conflict with the bacta that was being steadily pumped into her body to keep her stabilized but failing.

“Ahhh…frak. Har-dock ” She coughed, blood flowing down her chin and splattering against the HUD. He was a loose canon, she couldn’t have him get detained and have his mug uncovered.

“S...top!” A sharp pain resonated throughout her head, and she pressed her gloved hand over her side. Ain’t no stuffing what had been blasted back in. Even with her racial abilities, it was quite obvious she had suffered brutal internal injuries. Her body dropped to the ground, her vision becoming blurred as everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Faces of medics came to surround her, the sound of klaxons clashing with Hardock’s rage.

Kriffin’ ‘ell.

Then everything went dark.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Mao"]

Hardock was the least of Sarge's concerns. Considering the man was still on his back, the blast did little except send him skidding back. Pushing himself up, he threw his own wave of the Force at Hardock to buy himself time to do what he had to do - take a firm grip on the gaping hole in her armor and crack it open like a crab. Once that was open, the medics took charge of her.

They'd get her to surgery, fix her up and plop her into a tank.

As for whoever the hell this was what came in screaming like a mynock outta hell... well, Sarge could deal with him readily enough, Bolter or no. A hand rose, using the Force to pull his Halberd to him from where it had been propped against a wall.

His suit was still in good condition.

Unlike Mao.

If he wanted to accompany her to the base hospital, he could. If he wanted to fight, he could do that too - but judging by the security in the room, they having filtered in with the medics, it likely wasn't the greatest idea.

 

[Mao]

With that much of a ruckus and medics charging around, it was small wonder that whatever fight would ensue would not last long. None the less, there was no denying just how brightly Sarge's Halberd began to shine brightly.

A bit -too- brightly.

What came next would amount to a good bit of tackling combined with curses, some bloody knuckles, a broken nose, some broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder -- all from the medics.

Hardock finally was able to be contained, but like a wild mutt of a kathhound at a loss at his wounded owner, he crumpled. Broke down by Mao's unconscious form, as if her waning life tore a part of what passed for his soul.

Echoing the same sensation the youngest of them had felt back at Exis. As if all the colours of the universe would fade with her.