MD #212: Hangover
Summary: Emily Benning's transfer request into CMC training is approved and she gets a wake up call she'll never forget while hungover.
Date: 07/11/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: TBA
Emily Lleufer Randy Clara 
Naval Enlisted Berthings, Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Housing a couple thousand naval personnel is never easy, but the fleet has managed for many decades. The enlisted barracks are divided up into sixty-bunk berthings and spread out across Deck Three. Each bunk has a small blue privacy curtain to keep out the light and prying eyes, but at least each individual has their own space. The drawers beneath each bunk and the lockers provide additional storage space. Between each stack of bunks is a single table that comprises a single section, each barracks holding five sections that are divided by thin bulkheads.
Thu May 24 19:09:43 2049

Talk in the Marine Enlisted Berths is pretty clear: The last time anyone saw Emily, she was drinking and dancing at No Man's Land on Mother. She'd been intending to trade a dress for some civilian clothing and ended up partying with the Marines at the bar. Discussion favored letting her drink like a big girl and learn to deal with consequences. Flight rosters indicated she got back around 2345 and wasn't supposed to be scheduled for her shift in the Galley until 1300. So when Lleu goes to find her in the wee hours for her kindly wake-up and good news, he can see past the curtain in the bunk that she's passed out face down, drooling on her pillow. She's in skivvies and never managed to get under the covers. Yep, she even smells a little like booze. How perfect.

The bad news is that /other/ people also sleep in here and if you thought they didn't like Emily BEFORE this morning, now they are really going to hate her guts and be glad to see her go! Poor girl. A few of them might laugh, remembering their recruit days. Gunnery Sergeant Lleufer Ynyr aka The Bastard arrives. He doesn't flip on the lights because they are already on but he comes in with a tin whistle of all things. No kettle to beat, no bull horn. Ynyr stops by Emily's bunk and makes damned sure it's her and he's got the right bunk. With a clipboard tucked under one arm, Lleufer lifts up his left wrist to check his chrono. The Gunnery Sergeant simply stands there counting down the seconds until everyone's time will tick over to 05:00 - no doubt a number of the Naval personnel in here will be due to get up right then anyway, right? The whistle is put to his mouth and at the precise tick, Ynyr blows that shrill mother frakker probably as hard and as loud as it goes! While standing right by Emily's head.

"GET UP MARINE! HOP TO, BENNING! OUT OF THAT BUNK!" If she doesn't at once leap out of her skin and freak out like a cat who just got water thrown all over her fast enough, the Gunny grabs her mattress and heaves it OUT FROM UNDER HER to flip Emily out onto the deck! Whoo, nice cold metal for that fanny! "MOVE IT! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!" Nobody knows how to shout like a Drill Instructor. Gotta hate'm.

Whatever dream she was having, she's smiling a little in her sleep. Halfway through a little snore, the whistle goes off. The hangover doesn't have time to register. Her eyes shoot open to see Lleufer standing over her bottom bunk in his campaign cap, barking and screaming. Complete, abject, TOTAL fear. She's frozen like a deer in the headlights, unable to move, not knowing what to do. He's yelling things but she's still tipsy and this is not what she was expecting from her morning. So when he reaches in and dumps her bunk onto the cold ground, she stares up at him, forgetting she's in skivvies. No, she doesn't look like she is going to cry but that fear is certainly something. The look on her face with wide eyes and bobbing mouth is HILARIOUS. There's even still a glimmer of wet drool on her cheek. Finding her motor functions, she reaches for the bunk to get up and slips on the bedsheet and goes face-first into her pillow. Pushing herself back up she does her best to stand at attention while she tries to figure out what's happening… and then her eyes start squinting. Ohhhh yes, she has a lovely hangover. Loud noises and lights? Not her friend.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE WRONG BUNK! THIS ISN'T YOUR BERTHINGS! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER FAST, MARINE! CLOTHES ON!" /Lots/ of Naval personnel have lept out of their own bunks and about pissed themselves shitless, but now they are starting to go from angry startled faces to some of them cracking up. Hell yeah, they know what is going on. The Gunny points at her stuff to pick it up, opening up her locker and tossing her things out onto the deck to 'help' Emily. "HUSTLE IT! MOVE IT, RECRUIT! GRAB YOUR KIT AND GET OUT!" The hatch is that way and Lleufer Ynyr points right at it, "MARINE BERTHINGS -NOW-!" How in the hell can he keep a straight face?? Lleu scoops up one of Emily's undies and tosses it at her, "MOVE IT!" Sooner she gets out the sooner the Navy Enlisted can have some peace and quiet! Some of them may be hollering at her now to try and speed her along!

Soon as Emily is going to make for that hatch, Lleu is going to start stomping his way to follow her to the Marine Berthings with that DI scowl.

Wrong bunk?? There's confusion. Not her berthings? "But-" Haha. She actually spoke. Wait. He said 'Marine.' Her eyes bug out and suddenly Emily doesn't know how to react, but she knows she's quite terrified of him. Hearing the shouts from the others to get her ass in gear and get out, she follows his finger to the floor and bends down to pick up her stuff and just throws the mattress into the bunk with the blankets. There's nothing else in there, which is a bit sad. But, it just makes things easier. She's about finished when she's hit in the face with her own underwear and she stares in terror as her whole locker is dumped onto the floor. Get dressed!? She starts to quickly move in to get a shirt, then hesitates and tries to reach for pants, and then Lleufer is yelling again. This is all very loud and her head is pounding. She ends up getting one shoe on and that was mostly by accident of stepping halfway into it. The ruck full, the strap is pulled over her shoulder and she half-runs for the door, looking over her shoulder in fear to see if this Human Loudspeaker is following. Anywhere but here! Oh my GODS!

You head toward Marine Enlisted Berthings

Marine Enlisted Berthings Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion

Thu May 24 19:51:54 2049 MD #212 — Mon Nov 06 19:51:54 2017

Housing for a whole company of Marines plus headquarters support staff requires more than one hundred bunks for the Marines' enlisted personnel. Divided into two primary bunkhouses, each one holds sixty bunks, one bunk stacked over another against the wall with a table between each row and a thin bulkhead between the sections. Rather than the blue curtains of the naval enlisted, each bunk has a dark green barrier with the crest of the CMC done in black. The lockers for the Marines are triple the size of the Navy's allowances, each locker holding a Marine's personal bodyarmor and several different sets of uniforms plus combat webbing and helmet. The space physically provided in the lockers might be larger, but the allowance for personal space is less, though the drawers beneath each bunk help alleviate the problem somewhat.

There is probably a trail of her strewn laundry left on the deck in her terrified run for the hatch! Ynyr is indeed coming like a slow motion steam engine right behind her. One can almost /see/ steam rolling out of his ears and lazer beams coming out of his eyes! Devil Dawg ears and all, gunshot scar in his frak'ing head where somebody tried to kill him but nooooo, he's still up and coming right behind Emily. "MOVE IT!"

Soon as they are out of Naval Enlisted and heading into the Marine Berthings, the Gunnery Sergeant's baritone booms, "CHOOSE AN OPEN LOCKER, MARINE! PUT YOUR THINGS DOWN AND STAND AT ATTENTION AT THE FOOT OF YOUR NEW BUNK!" Funny how Drill Instructors learn to do this freaky LOUD thing with their voices which actually doesn't strain their vocal chords at all, allowing Lleufer to shout all day long and not even get red in the face.

While Emily looks like somebody just electricuted her and scared the shit out of her, Ynyr stops and stands at attention and waits for her to pull herself together and do the same. Soon as the Master-at-Arms arrived with Emily, every Marine in the Berthings must suddenly be awake! (repose)

Scared out of her mind? Check. Smells like booze? Check. Hilarious deer-in-headlights face? Check. Drool still on her cheek? Check. Emily is half-running when she comes into the berths. There's a ruck over her shoulder and it isn't tied at the top so things are falling behind her. She's in her skivvies and only managed to get half of a shoe on. For once, she doesn't seem so concerned about the skivvies since there's a Rabid Animal behind her. Scrambling around the hatch, she shoves the ruck into the locker and stands beside the wrong bunk, too terrified to know what she's doing. But as some in here were out drinking wih her last night, the squiting eyes and pained look says one immediate thing: Hangover. Standing at a slumped attention due to her single shoe, she looks like a hot mess.

Randy wears a soft cap over her head that covers her ears. She's passed out face down when the noisy Drill Instructor she never wanted to hear in the morning bellows through her dream. Randy jumps up and bonks her head, hissing, "Owowowowowowow." See loud? For her? It's even louder. "Frak me," she mumbles before scrambling out of bed to stand at attention. Even after all these years, she still has that call and response. "Oh," she says softly as she reaches up to rub her eyes.

Calmly now, with that damned tin whistle from Hades hanging around his neck, Lleufer thankfully doesn't give it another ear piercing blast. Instead he pulls the clipboard out from under his arm and starts reading off a new serial number followed by, "Marine Recruit, Emily Benning, now presant and accounted for." The Gunnery Sergeant eyes the open locker she's chosen and makes a note of it's number even if she's standing at the wrong bunk. Ynyr opens his left breast pocket of his uniform shirt and takes out a pair of hex tags on a chain. "Step forward." She may be scared half to death of him but Lleu stands tall and waits for her to present her new dog tags, "You are here by entered into the rolls of the Colonial Marine Corps upon the Battlestar Orion to begin your training." Emily can take the tags from him or Lleu can slip them on over her head, "Your duty assignments for the week are posted. You are to report to Sergeant Oleander."

Emily just stares at the bunk across from her, trying to find her mind in the haze of insanity. Nope, still swimming in terror. What a lovely storm this is in the ocean of MindFlail. But being told to step forward, she hesistates. No, she doesn't want to get any closer to him right now but.. She hobbles over in her one shoe and stands in front of him, not wanting to look him in the eye. But when she hears the declaration, she blinks and stares up at him. Fear, still, but there's some pride building. Wide-eyed incredulity. "Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant." She doesn't want to move so he's probably going to have to plop them over her mess of hair. "Who.. is Sergeant Oleander?"

Randy lifts her hand to cover what could be called an inevitable, involuntary yawn. "Your CO Recruit." This marine, on account of basically being an alcoholic, or maybe she just didn't drink much last night. Weed is a friend of quick recovery rates. She reaches up to pull off her cap belatedly and rakes her fingers through her hair quickly to try and keep her wily hair in check.

Lleufer gives a nod to what Randy offers, "For the moment, Sergeant Oleander owns you. She is going to start your basic training, put your ass at a desk until you know CMC regs inside out, backwards, and upside down /even/ in your sleep. She will teach you how to keep your gear, how to arrange your locker and make your bunk for inspections, how to spit and polish your boots until they gleam like a nuclear strike. Savy?" The Gunny looks around at the dropped clothes, "Pick up all of your things and get dressed. You have…" Lleu checks his chrono, "19 minutes and 37 seconds left to get your ass to the Security Hub and report in for duty." Emily better know how to shower really fast or scrub up in a sink. "She'll take you through requisitions for uniforms and other material. DISMISSED!" The last word comes out like a Gods be damned thunder crack!

Hangovers are fun.

Randy lifts her hand to cover what could be called an inevitable, involuntary yawn. "Your CO Recruit." This marine, on account of basically being an alcoholic, or maybe she just didn't drink much last night. Weed is a friend of quick recovery rates. She reaches up to pull off her cap belatedly and rakes her fingers through her hair quickly to try and keep her wily hair in check. (Randy's pose before mine)

The recruit stares back at Lleu's chest, trying to calm herself down. There's a lot to remember here. Times. People. What is a nuclear strike!? "Okay, Gunnery Sergeant!" she tries to pep at him, but it hurts. 'Okay.' how precious. At the bark, she turns and steps to the side, trying to hold her temples together from hands pressed against the outside. Hair is held up with them. She stares at the trail of clothes and ends up kicking off her only shoe and runs, trying to find her pants and a shirt.

"She is going to tear you a new one," Randy chuckles as she leans into her rack by holding onto the frame, snatching up an apple from her built in shelf. Then she pushes herself back upright again, taking a big crunchy bite out of the green skin. Then she slips her sleeping hat back on and sinks down on the edge of her bed, wriggling her bare toes as she watches the recruit hustle.

The Gunny doesn't return the salute she didn't give him but he does smirk. "They are so cute when they have hangovers from Hades, and I'm such a bastard." Lleufer turns his head to look at Randy and laughs, "Oleander is going to eat her for breakfast and shit her out, then make her clean it up." He skims a hand over his shorn skull and sighs, "It's my sacrad duty to remember how horrified I was at Boot Camp, and pass it onto the next generation." Ynyr chuckles and watches Emily scurry. "I guess my job here is done."

Clara shuffles into a seated position in her bunk, a full ten minutes after this whole fracas started. She drags the heel of her palm across her eyes and blinks vapidly at the crazy asshole who'd been shouting up a storm a moment ago. "Keep it the frak down, I've got shift in an hour." Then her gaze cuts across to Emily, and she does a little double-take.

Emily comes running back in with an armful of clothing, shorts and a green duty blouse, and dumps it on her bunk. The wrong bunk. Then gets teh ruck from the correct locker and dumps it on her bunk. Everything. She throws everything round in there, looking for something. Towel? Victory. The shower bag is grabbed and she doesn't even look at anyone else. Em bolts for the showers in a manic panic.

"You woke us all up and we're all hungry Sarge. If people weren't trying to roll over to get more shut-eye, I think you'd get a lot more stink eyes," Randy says a little louder as if suggesting. "Oh, sorry," she waves a hand to the Three and then takes another bite of her apple. She watches Emily off to the head. "Does she really think she's going to be able to get in a shower before she has to report?…so frakked."

Lleufer turns his head around to where Clara's lying in her bunk, "Petty Officer 1st Class, use your hour well. Hit the Mess and the head." Gunnery Sergeants are higher ranked and Ynyr doesn't keep his voice down. In fact, he looks to be in a pretty good humor, "They're serving fish again. Knock yourselves out." A smile for Randy and he tucks the clipboard up under his left elbow. The Master-at-Arms starts to head for the hatch himself - his bright and cheery day has just started too!

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