AWD #414: They always get in the way.
They always get in the way.
Summary: Orion's marines train against a hostage taker.
Date: 09/08/2016
Related Logs: None
Amos Dreyer Fischer 
MOUT Room - Deck 4 - Battlestar Orion
The MOUT room is a training facility located forward of the engine rooms and stores, and only allows the use of specific paint, rubber, or frangible rounds. Housed within a large, empty hold the area is bounded by structural bulkheads and the interior walls can be moved so the space is entirely customisable for whatever the instructors or Marines need. Being in the bowls of the ship there is also enough space between the decks to allow for an overhead series of catwalks for instructors and others to observe and critique what is happening down below.
AWD #414

It's another day, another set of training simulations to run marines through. Amos might be finding himself more and more stuck behind a desk of late, but he still manages to get out once in a while. The foyer area of the MOUT room has racks of armour and paint guns for marines to equip themselves with, although today it's pistols that are waiting for the pair about to be put through their paces.
Once they're both present Amos starts his briefing. "Gentlemen. Today's scenario is simple, you're onboard Orion, on an ordinary patrol. Corporal, I appreciate this isn't exactly your specialty, but I am sure that Sergeant Dreyer can keep you straight. Your objectives are simple, patrol, keep alert, and, Kobol forbid, should anything happen then you are to react as appropriate." He gives them a faint smile, "but I'm sure everything will be quiet and uneventful."

Off of patrol and… into a simulation of patrol. Dreyer just blinks smoothly when it's stated, checking over the paint-pistol. Sometimes they jam and he's making sure, in advance, that his isn't as likely to do so. "Of course sir. Nothing interesting ever happens aboard the Orion." Just like there totally wasn't a Code Blue and arrest of a suspected skinjob in the Fitness Center recently. Nope. Never happens.
The Sergeant glances over towards Fischer. "Just walk along, look tough. The important thing is to practice a look of utter boredom so they think you're not actually paying any mind."

Having just returned to duty following his head wound a while back, Fischer looks between the others present, nodding as he hears the briefing. There's a brief grin at Dreyer's words, "Ah, so just like when one's in sickbay? Got it." Checking his pistol briefly again now.

"Very well," Amos replies once both seem content with the briefing, "in your own time then Sergeant." Pointing towards what appears to be a standard fleet hatch that separates this area from the MOUT room proper he then heads over to the metal stairs that lead up to the observation gantry.

Once through the hatch the area is mocked up as a standard shipboard corridor in every regard bar that there is no ceiling, so the training staff can observer silently. As they step out, the sound of an argument starts up from just round a bend perhaps fifteen metres away to their left.

"More or less. Standard rations, though." Dreyer seems satisfied with his sidearm and holsters it. The vest is adjusted a bit. It's not his standard kit; paint stains and all in place. But he soon steps through and takes a glance around the corridor. Getting the lay of it. Likely paranoid at the risk of some strange trap or another. He's about to offer some quip towards Fischer when the argument strikes up. "Don't pull your weapon yet," he offers in a quiet voice, moving forward at a relatively quick pace, but not so much so that he'll pop into the open immediately. "A visible weapon can cause disagreements between personnel to escalate. Make sure you can draw it immediately, but don't until necessary." Soft words of advice before he gestures to the other to start around the corner. No shout. No call to attention. It's supposed to be a patrol, right? Well, generally, just seeing the MPs mosey on round quells most 'He stole my booze!' disagreements.

Fischer nods, holstering his pistol, but making sure it's available to be drawn quite fast, if needed. That done, he nods at Dreyer's words, "In general, visible weapons tend to make people nervous," he agrees, moving to get around the corner in as much of a normal way as possible.

'He stole my booze' does indeed seem to be the level of this disagreement. Tempers are high, but the two crewmen in off-duties who they find are just bickering with each other and gesticulating wildly. There's no sign of any weapons, nor that violence is imminent, but the volume is steadily rising. "You're so full of fraking shit Caldwell, I know you told him I had a boyfriend on Piraeus, who else could it have been, you've said all along you want to get into his boxers!" "Frak you Atkins, you're fraking paranoid, calm the frak down." And so on.

Personal relations. Joy. Dreyer's upper cheek twinges briefly. Not too much. It's just a training scenario. Even if frat does end up involved, well. No paperwork later. There is a glance for Fischer and something of a small shrug. Finally he tilts his head towards the two arguing and mouths: 'Go for it.' Because really, what's more fun than throwing a Corporal into the deep end? Pretty much nothing. But the Sergeant does stop a number of paces away, resting back on his heels. There's an arch of brow at the two and… then a smirk. Something funny must have struck him.

There's a second of pause as Fischer sees what the argument is about that, before he looks towards Dreyer. There's a momentary grimace as he sees the man's reaction, before he steps over towards the two arguing. "What's going on here?" he says, a bit louder than intended, perhaps. After all, this is not what he's used to. A look between the two.

The arguing pair seem to have failed to notice the arrival of the marines, or at least are passable at pretending anyway. Atkins is about to launch into a tirade in return about how she's perfectly calm but Fischer's interruption stops her and she glances to him instead, looking faintly awkward, "ah… errmm.. sorry Corp, just a little disagreement you know how it goes sometimes. I was just leaving though…" Caldwell on the other hand crosses her arms over her chest and eyes Fischer, "you can arrest her right? For being fraked in the head? Safety of the ship and all that? Slander? She's being calling me all sorts all well and now no one in the berthings will talk to me."

There's a flash of amusement over Dreyer's features at Fischer's near-shout, but the man doesn't step in. Not until Caldwell speaks up. Then the Sergeant ambles on forward, falling into line alongside the Corporal. "'fraid not. Disagreement isn't grounds for arrest. You can file a complaint with her CO if it's really an issue." He seems about to add more, but. Ahem. There's Important People watching.

Glancing towards Dreyer as he steps forward, Fischer nods at the man's words. "Like he said, it's not grounds for arrest. I would suggest you find a way to resolve the disagreement, though."

As they marines talk to the two arguing crewmen a couple of techs walk past, the first slows a fraction as if he wants to rubberneck, but then his mate elbows him in the ribs, points to Dreyer's MP garb and the pair keep on walking round the corner and towards where Dreyer and Fischer entered from.
Atkins takes the marine's word as a dismissal and darts off in the opposite direction leaving Caldwell to grumble for a few moments before she too moves to head off, this time heading to follow the techs. Well, until there's a scream from the direction Atkins went anyway, then she's turning to sprint back and see what has become of her erstwhile adversary.

"The romantic ones can be the worst," Dreyer offers to Fischer, quietly, as Caldwell finally moves to head off. "Especially if you find out frat is involved. I much prefer dealing with the toasters." If only he'd known all that before going through the MP program. There is a glance upward to the not-a-ceiling, but he's stalled from saying anything further when the scream goes up. He even manages not to swear. Out loud. Instead, there's a tilt of head towards Fischer in a 'let's go' gesture and he's taking off as well. Attempting, it'd seem, to beat Caldwell down the corridor. Just in case.

Fischer nods as he hears that, "I can imagine. Things are a bit more straight forward out there." Relaxing momentarily as things seems to calm down, before he hears the scream. "What now…" he mutters, taking off at a sprint as well.

And just round the corner is Atkins, staring at the hatch that, according to it's markings, leads to one of the ship's many small arms lockers. It rapidly becomes apparent just why she's screamed as what appear to be grenades, explosives, and detonators are scattered over the floor, most probably from the open duffle bag in a third crewman's hand. As the MPs and Caldwell arrive at the corner this new figure turns towards the noise, drawing what looks like a pistol with one hand, and grabbing Atkins with the other. Classic hostage position with the would-be wronged party held close in front of the body of the wrong-un to provide cover. "Stay back," yells the hostile, "or I'll kill her!"

<FS3> Fischer rolls Alertness: Great Success.
<FS3> Dreyer rolls Alertness: Success.

Well shit. Dreyer sort of falls back on his heels, hand to his sidearm. He doesn't pull it yet, no. He's casting a look over what's fallen. To the Crewman's hands. And then to her forehead. The Sergeant's jaw tightens. "Stand down," he offers, voice a bit flat. Can we go back to the argument about who slept with whom now?

Coming to a stop as soon as he sees the scene, Fischer's gaze also goes to the hostile's forehead. Letting out a bit of a breath, there's a brief look to Dreyer, before he glances towards Caldwell, very briefly. "I suggest you step back, crewman," he offers, words kept quiet, as he focuses back on the hostage situation. Letting Dreyer take the lead here.

Caldwell freezes on the spot, and promptly gets bumped into by one of the two techs who'd passed them, who now arrive back at speed. While those two disentangle, the other tech, Bradbeer, cries out in alarm as he sees clocks the situation and is promptly rewarded with a paintball to the chest for his troubles. Or, more likely from the fact that it's 'blood' rather than paint that's flying, he had a bullet pack in his uniform which he triggered. Either way, he does down screaming in agony as the hostile drags Atkins a few paces back along the corridor.

It's just a bundle of lovely flashbacks for Dreyer. A very similar situation faced him when arresting one of the traitors. That was real, this isn't, and yet… this is the one under observation. He also already had his weapon drawn that time. The man doesn't step forward, no, but he does lower his hand to his pistol. It's not drawn, but it could be very quickly. To the second tech — the one not shot — Dreyer notes: "Go get a medical team."
Simulation, but still. It'll get that person off down the hall and out of harm's way. The Sergeant starts moving towards the 'injured' tech. "Crewman, let her go and stand down. This is your final warning." Hand still near pistol. Ready to draw at a second's notice if need be. But giving another chance before escalating out of need, it'd seem.

Fischer's expression hardens a bit at the happenings, lowering one hand to near his pistol as well. "There's nowhere for you to go," he points out to the hostile crewman, otherwise keeping silent as his movement follows Dreyer's, following the other man's lead.

Having just seen his mate go down in a spray of blood the other tech does not need to be told twice as he turns, grabs Caldwell, and hustles her off down the corridor and away from the action. If the situation takes a while to resolve they'll change and come back in as medics, but for now they just slip through the hatch back to the briefing area and grab a seat. Bradbeer continues to scream, and clearly wanted to be an actor when he was young, for he's going for it full on. Atkins also tries to scream, but is dissuaded from that plan by the feel of a pistol at her temple and a quiet, "shhh" in her ear. Then, projecting louder so the marines can hear the hostile calls, "drop your weapons! I'll shoot another one if I have to! Just drop your weapons and back up round that corner. No one need get hurt."

<COMBAT> Dreyer attacks Doris with Pistol - ARMOR (Atkins) stops the attack!

With the other two having cleared the area and both himself and Fischer moving in to provide cover for Mr. Coulda Been an Actor, there's fewer at risk about. But the perp isn't backing down and the distance is too great for a physical takedown. So Dreyer goes for a slightly deicer option. It may not be one he'd go for in a real situation, but training scenarios are also for practice. In one steady movement, he draws his pistol and fires. There's an attempt to aim high enough for the head, but he squeezes the trigger a fraction of a second too early. It causes the shot to glance off of Atkins' arm instead and it's then that the MP starts to move forward. Perhaps hoping it's distraction enough at the very least.

Not having drawn his weapon yet, Fischer pulls it out as Dreyer moves forward. Stepping forward as well, a bit slower, he starts aiming for he hostile, stepping a little sideways so his aim isn't obscured by the sergeant.

<COMBAT> Fischer takes careful aim at Doris.

Well, if you thought Bradbeer could scream then you haven't heard the pair of lungs Atkins has on her. Her's at least has the benefit of just being a single, and mercifully short cry. "No!" Calls the hostile as she sees Dreyer starts to move, aiming her pistol at him and firing off a snapshot towards his chest, "stay back!"

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Alertness: Good Success.

It's like a big ol' mixing pot of 'shit Dreyer has had to deal with.' Hostage situation? Check. Infiltrating skinjob? Check, please. The man scowls, holding his pistol up… but not firing yet. "Code Blue!" It's a loud enough shout that Fischer will definitely hear and the theoretical people in other parts of the corridor should, as well. Such as medical staff presumably on the way. Code Blue. Skinjob aboard. Potentially (likely) hostile. He doesn't even bother to try shouting for her to stand down again. Nope. He's going in for the tackle. Mind… marks off for not behaving as if poor Doris there has skinjob strength.

Frowning as he keeps on aiming, Fischer seems to finally get a good line of sight. As he sees the hostile aim and fire toward Dreyer, he moves his pistol slightly, to aim for the shoulder of the hostile, and squeezing the trigger. Right before seeing Dreyer move in for the tackle.

<COMBAT> Fischer attacks Doris with Pistol - Light wound to Right Arm.
<COMBAT> Doris attacks Dreyer with Pistol Ap and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Dreyer takes careful aim at Doris.

Maybe it's the oncoming Dreyer, maybe it's the shot from Fischer, but whatever it is the hostile's shot goes wide of the mark. Noting the incoming tackle she shows Atkins towards the MP instead, fires a snap shot at Fischer, then takes to her heals down the corridor towards the nearby intersection.

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Reaction+Reaction: Success.

Hostages. Hostages are such a pain in the MP's rear end. Well, every hero's rear end. They always get in the way. They scream too much. And oh yes- they get in the way. Dreyer is able to sort of catch Atkins by the shoulder and deflect her as he takes off after the '10.' It does lead to him dropping his pistol, but as he's going in for the subdual and arrest… it's not needed so much.

As he sees Dreyer move in to try subduing, Fischer first tries getting out of the way of the shot aimed for him, before he starts moving for the dropped hostage. "You okay?" he asks, quietly.

<COMBAT> Dreyer subdues Doris!

It would seem that Bradbeer has been relishing this role, for as Fischer approaches he bits down on the blood capsule he's had hidden in his cheek just so he can then spit some of it up in a fake gurgle of pain and suffering. As for the Ten, well, she does down under Dreyer, her pistol spinning away across the floor towards the rapidly vanishing Atkins.

In the thick of it, Dreyer isn't even thinking about skinjob strength. Nope. He's pulling out the cuffs that go with the MP kit to put them on the Faux Ten. He's a bit breathless in it, but manages to sort of gasp out the standard arrest spiel. And for the trouble of it, she might just get a bit heavier a knee in the back. Maybe. Not as much as if it were real, but more than is necessary for a training simulation. Ahem.

"Where's that medical team?" Fischer calls around the corner, before looking over to see Dreyer having the hostile well in hand. Turning back to Bradbeer, Fischer leans down to do at least what little first aid he can.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License