AWD #080: What We Are
What We Are
Summary: Holtz and Ceres have different views, but hers come with some extra oomph.
Date: 27/3/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Treason
Ceres Holtz 
Flight Simulators
The Air Wing has access to flight simulators to train pilots off the ground in combat maneuvers and situations that are hard to replicate with regular dogfight practicing and this is their home. A rectangular room, the hatch opens up beside the bank of computers that control the simulations and what is seen by the individuals when training sessions are in progress. The sims are actual cockpits cut out of old frames and installed here to function exactly as the real thing, right down to oxygen plugs for suits. In front of each cockpit, complete with armored glass, are LCD screens that cover most of the front view to the front and above. There are two Vipers, two Predators, and one full-cabin Raptor available.
AWD #80

It's Holtz' turn in the simulators, and he seems to be putting his time to good use. He's sitting in one of the Viper mock-pits at the center of the room, running a battle simulation of what looks like one of Cyrannus' asteroid belts. The cockpit bucks and lurches in time with his movements; on the screen in his cockpit there's a sudden flash of light as his guns immolate a Cylon fighter. There's a grunt of satisfaction, as that last kill seems to be the one that ends the simulation; a few moments later, the screen goes blank, the canopy rises, and a flightsuit-clad Holtz heads towards the simulation computer to pick another program.

Arriving early for her time slot that has been blanked out on the schedule, Ceres is not alone. Not only is she not alone, but she has a sidearm strapped to her thigh. As she pushes the door open, one MP stays outside and the other, reluctantly sticks with her. Though he is supposed to be on the lookout for the shooter, he seems to be paying more attention to the Captain. Redux is about to head for the computer bank as well to rifle through the programs for when it's her turn, but slows upon seeing Holtz. "Storm." Its a way of greeting, simple, without question or expectation for a return.

Holtz freezes as he hears that voice. There's no way he doesn't recognize it; he and Ceres have been squadmates for months, after all. His head snaps up, eyes wide, and his lip curls in a sneer as he looks at her. The computer is forgotten for the moment, as he slowly straightens and stares at the dark haired woman. His only response to her greeting is a growled, "Oh, you gotta be frakkin' kidding me." That venomous glare flicks momentarily to the MP before settling back on Ceres.

The MP looks about as thrilled to guard Ceres as much as Holtz is glad to see her. Redux doesn't say anything in reply at first, noticing the hatred there in his eyes. It only causes her to straighten up slightly, that cool demeanor that is so like her slips back into place. "I have sims in twenty minutes. You are welcome to stay after if you don't mind flying but I will step out for now since you do not seem to be finished yet." She glances to the MP and begins to turn, heading back for the door.

Holtz simply stands there, staring and sneering as Ceres speaks. He doesn't respond, though, until after she turns to leave. "Tell me somethin', yeah? Do you skinjobs sleep?" His hard-edged, anger-filled glare spears the back of her head as she moves away.

The MP makes to follow, but stops when Ceres does, keeping off to the side. He gives Holtz a look and can not help but watch, invested now in the exchange as he eases back. It seems he wants to know too. Slowly she turns to look back at Storm. "I have always slept..Storm. I get tired just like you." She admits faintly. "Only difference is, I can power through it if I must. Like drinking lots of caffeine or taking stims. Anything else you want to know?"

"It looked like you were asleep," Holtz corrects coldly. "For all I know, it could've been a lie." He takes a couple steps toward her. "For all I know, you're still frakkin' lying." He lights a cigarette, exhaling loudly. "I just wonder if it ever keeps you up at night, knowin' what your… kind has done." No, he can't quite bring himself to say people. Not yet, anyway. "If you have even a shred of real humanity in that… shell of yours." His fists are clenched, but the MP's presence seems to be keeping him restrained. Bodily, at least.

The attitude is not something new but each time its a different person brings a flinch. Slowly her arms fold before her and she stares him down. "I didn't lie, Storm. I am who I am…and what my /kind/ did? Yeah…I do." Simple enough. Her face is unreadable at this point but her tone sounds genuine enough. "This shell? It is the same as yours. I can bleed…I can die. Are all of you blind on this frakkin' boat?" She tilts her head, dark braid moving against her shoulders. "They aren't my kind anymore…they have not been for some time. Since I turned my back on them. This is my home." She stabs a finger at the floor. "With the rest of you. Flying and keeping those who are still alive, safe. "Do you want me to group you with the rest of the Tauron's? Say that just because a group of them decided to bomb innocents in the pursuit of taking the government selfishly for themselves that you are damned as well?"

"Ain't the same. You're a frakkin' copy, Nine." Holtz doesn't say the last word so much as he spits it, his head shaking convulsively. He might not have been in the mess hall when the assassin struck, but he's heard plenty from those who were there. Including the reference to that number. "I don't know about you, but I didn't come from a frakkin' vat or some shit." He exhales a cloud of smoke; at her last, his lips flare and contort themselves into a thoroughly unpleasant smile. "See, you're missin' somethin' here. I don't give a frak what labels you want to heap on me. Far as I'm concerned, if I'm being damned by a Cylon, I must be doin' somethin' right, yeah?"

"I was a copy, but I was given a decision. I could have done what every other one of my line does…kill. Destroy. Tear apart this station but no. I am here now. I have lost with you, I bear my scars and I fly that damned Viper for this ship and those who live here, Storm. Whether or not you all accept me fully, I am still going to do what I know how to do. That is fly and shoot down toasters." There is a depth of her own venom there, of her own dislike. She stares narrows her eyes, watching his expression and she takes a step closer, then another. "Do you enjoy the idea that you could be like one of those that would kill their 'own'. The innocent. So you are just another dirt-eater without a thought for yourself?"

"Do you." Somehow, Holtz doesn't seem convinced by her vow. He narrows his eyes, and seems about to say something else… until the words "dirt eater" escape her lips. That finally seems to push him beyond the breaking point. The words are barely out of her lips when, growling, he takes another step towards her… and throws the heaviest punch he can muster at her face.

Oh yes, Ceres is ready for this and she unfolds her arms and with a quickness that a trained boxer might have, she turns, stepping off to the side. The MP doesn't even blink, in fact he eases and doesn't seem to want to break it up. He instead, tilts his head, leaning to get a look at his partner who is obliviously guarding the hall. "Hit the frakkin' skinjob." He mutters below his breath.

Redux takes a step to the side and says evenly enough, "What's wrong? Brains too dull and slow like all the rest of your 'kind'?" Its a verbal jab that might hurt more than a punch. SHe's not lifting her fist at all, in fact they stay at her side. "You are all the same anyways…dull, stupid, boarish…"

Holtz hadn't intended to go into all-out brawler mode, but his earlier restraint seems forgotten; he's seeing red now. Especially after she prods him with her words. "Keep talkin', machine bitch!" he roars, grief warring with rage in his tone as he charges at her again, throwing another punch. That doesn't look like all he intends to do, though, as he'll keep trying to close the distance so he can grapple the nimble Ceres. Or try to tear her apart with his bare hands. Something like that.

The current MP wants this as much as Holtz and looks about ready to help too but backs up when Storm starts to get further riled. "That is right, a machine that frakkin bleeds. Still slow, aren't you? No wonder they stuck you all on the same planet together. Sadly it does nothing for genetics. Just inbreds wallowing in your own muck." She does continue to prod him and his next punch misses just as the first, the two now stumbling amongst the simulators and the open area between. "Come on, tell me how I am programmed, right? Just like a Cylon..can't feel a damned thing. Can't mourn, can't love…tell me so I know it and won't think otherwise. TELL ME WHAT I AM! Because I damn well know what you are."

"Stand still, godsdamnit!" Holtz roars again as he continues to attack Ceres without much luck. "I'll show you what you damn well are… from the inside out!" By this point, he's barely paying attention to what Ceres is saying. Oh, he's listening, of course. Every word seems only to stoke his fury that much more. But he's done trying to respond, howling and roaring as his massive fists keep flying.

"You will find I am just like you, Storm. Slow again," She manages to sneak around his next set of fists, her eyes narrowing as she waits for an opening. Ceres hesitates, but then her fist forms and that is when the MP notices how she changes her stance and launches into an attack. He starts to bark out a warning as he lifts his rifle. But she is already stepping in and the upper cut for his chin is solid, strong and probably not all together human. It means to connect and shut the officer up. "Calm the frak down, Storm!" She growls at him in that gemenese accent.

That hit makes Holtz realize in the back of his mind just how much she must have been holding back during their sparring sessions. As quick as he is, he's not quick enough by half to dodge the full force of Ceres' uppercut. It smacks against his jaw with a sickening sound, driving him back. He can't quite find his footing, stumbling backwards until he slams into one of the simulator mock-pits and falls to the floor.

Instead of getting right back up and trying to attack her again, he just sits there. He's obviously a bit dazed, but more than that, the fight seems to have drained out of him; when he looks back up at Ceres, his eyes are dull, and a tear runs slowly down his cheek. "Dead… Alley's dead, they're all dead," he mumbles thickly through a mouthful of blood, trying and failing to banish a despairing quiver out of his voice. "Can't forget. Won't forget. Blood… cries out for blood." He spits on the floor, but it's less a gesture of defiance and more an attempt to get the blood out of his mouth.

Wincing some at the sound, Ceres stays still because suddenly their's a rifle pointed at her back and the marine is telling her to stand down. Her jaw clenches, creating a tick as the second MP steps in and looks at his partner and then the two, confused. "What the hades…" "She attacked him.."

This is going on behind them as Redux focuses in on Holtz. She starts to move towards him and reaches out when she's barked at to hold still. Her response is to slowly lower her hands and speak instead of offering anything tangible. "I know….so is Talkshow…" There is a pain in her voice and she sucks in a breath, tilting her head, chin lifting as her eyes stare at the floor."

"I can't either. You don't have to like me, Storm. You don't even have to look at me. But I want to fly…I want to fight." She says this again, reaffirming it each new face.

"Move on out, Captain." The mp from the hallway says and she gives a brief look over her shoulder. "Kurt Holtz…when I said I knew what you were. Your damn fine pilot is what you are and a great leader. You are not the sum of some words or misconceptions. But then, you don't ever really have to prove that do you?" The MP lifts his voice again. "CAPTAIN! Out now!" She takes a step back and starts to turn.

That dull, anguished expression never leaves Holtz' face as Ceres speaks. His expression is far away, almost as if he's looking not at her but through her. It almost seems as if he doesn't hear her, but he's listening to every poshly-accented word, his chest heaving from the exertion of before. The blooded pilot can't quite bring himself to move, though, not even to wipe the blood from his lips or the tears from his cheeks. He simply stares flatly, mind reeling as the MPs lead Ceres away.

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