Unwinding

Posted on Sun Mar 10th, 2019 @ 1:52pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox

Mission: Gaia Reborn
Location: Holodeck
Timeline: 2396

When Rita Paris had suggested that she and Mnhei'sahe Dox should stop for a drink to help the anxious Romulan pilot to relax, Dox expected the pair to end up in Ten-Forward. But instead they were walking through the doors of a very different kind of establishment.

The D'Naak Spaceport was the kind of small, out of the way station frequented by pirates, smugglers and a generally low level of clientele. The bar was clearly built in a now-defunct cargo hold with no windows. It was dimly lit by flickering overhead lamps and a few old neon-style signs in a few different languages.

It was not often frequented by Starfleet officers. And most certainly not officers that looked anything like the bombastic Rita Paris, who strode in to the grimy establishment like she owned it. At her side, seven plus inches shorter and many kilograms wider was the red-headed Romulan, Mnhei'sahe Dox.

As they two worked their way to the bar, passing a pair of filthy dom-jot tables, every head turned. Paris, stacked and leggy in her anachronistic, 23rd century Gold minidress and Dox in her modern Crimson stuck out like sore thumbs in the sea of aged leather and grease-coated coveralls of the assorted pilots, criminals and cargo jockeys that had stopped at the station for a drink.

Keeping a watchful eye on the crowd as they walked to the half-filled bar for drinks, Dox asked. “I don't know if this is exactly the right kind of place to really unwind and relax, Commander?”

“Maybe not for me, but it certainly is for you,” Paris relied as she swatted away a roving hand trying to snake its way up her skirt, only to realize that wasn’t a hand. “Besides, I figure this kills a few birds with one stone… oh, sorry, pardon the phrasing there…”

Now that Dox was dating Mona Gonadie, the Miradonian aerospace engineer who was in fact an avian life form, Rita realized she had to be more conscious of her phrasings and colloquialisms. Case in point, ‘kill two birds with one stone’ was now potentially insensitive and insulting, so she made a note that she had to be mindful of such things in the future… lest she ‘lay an egg’.

“Point being, you need stress relief, and to get your mind out of that loop it loves so much. So, why not a dive bar where we can get into trouble?” As they sidled up to the bar, the humanoid with some sort of plated ridged forehead regarded them suspiciously.

“What’ll it be, Starfleet?” he muttered in a none-too-friendly tone that made it clear that the pristine and pretty Starfleet officers were unwelcome, but he’d take their credits.
Leaning on her crossed arms over the top of the bar, Dox tilted her head slightly. "Two shots Andorian Ale, and whatever she wants."

Turning towards Rita, Dox smiled lightly. "It was really good at the wedding. And it's good to shake things up from time to time.

“Romulan ale for me,” Rita replied as she reclined on her side against the bar. “Mixing it up is a good thing.” As she scanned over the bar, Rita read the room. Some where hostile, because they were obvious ‘fleeters in a dive bar, which often meant trouble. A few eye contacts resulted in suggestive leers in her direction, which were unsurprising. Rita’s build was generally considered to be a pleasing aesthetic amongst most humanoid races, and while there was no such thing as universal appeal, she came close.

The Tellurite sitting at a nearby table, however, only had eyes for the sturdily-built Romulan redhead, as he seemed quite enamored of her figure, which, leaning over the bar, showcased her generous haunch. As he was joined at his table by a pair of rough-looking Nausicaans, one of whom appeared to be missing an ear, while the other was missing an eye. While what they were saying could not be discerned with their low, rumbling speech, the intention was clear enough.

As their drinks were set on the bar, Paris picked hers up and sniffed, her eyes watering slightly. “Huh. Kinda weak, I suspect,” she muttered, raising her glass in a toast.

Which would not be completed as a large hand reached over her to lift the glass out of her hand.

Turning slightly, a bemused Paris stared the owner of the large hand straight in the chest. Tracking upward, she realized that she was unaware of whatever species this was, but clearly they were larger than human. Tossing down the relatively tiny drink, he set it on the bar and smiled down at the gold-clad commander, which was in no way a reassuring sight.

“S’bad for ya. M’doin ya a favor, girlie,” he rumbled in a barely coherent voice that sounded like tectonic plates grinding together.

Turning around, Dox drank her first Andorian Ale like a shot, with a slightly disappointed look on her face. "Extremely weak."

Putting her glass back on the bar, Dox gestured to the bartender. "Two more. Leave the bottle." As she did, she stepped up next to Rita Paris looking up at the towering whatever that was that took her drink.

"Well, you're huge. What can we do for you?" If the rotund Romulan was concerned, it didn't show on her face. "Because as it stands, you're interrupting our conversation."

“M’talkin to yer friend here, shorty. Wazzit to you?” the rumble of stone on stone voice replied as the large, tall and broad individual in the rather oversized overcoat explained.

Which was when the unmistakable scrape of chairs being pushed back behind her was heard, as the Nausicaans and the Tellurite all rose from their seats.

“Hey hey hey now, calm down, everybody,” Rita Paris held up her hands, back against the bar as she stood between the hulking smooth-skinned alien behemoth and the diminutive Dox. “The big fella didn’t mean any harm, he was just trying to save me from drinking something awful, right big guy?” True to form, Rita was trying to make peace, and convince everyone to find a way to get along.

“This guy bothering you, pretty lady?” the tellurite asked, having invaded Dox’s personal space from behind, one hand on the bar as he appreciated the fulsome aft section of the portly pilot.

Following the tellurite's eyes from what they were fixated on, Dox turned slightly, so that the tellurite remained visible on her left and whatever was harassing Commander Paris was on her right. "So far, everyone's getting along just fine. My friend and I just came in here for a drink. But we're happy to welcome a few more faces."

Dox gestured at the open stools beside them, trying to diffuse a potential powderkeg. "There's plenty of room. We can all have a seat, drink our drinks and talk. Right, Rita?"

“Precisely! How about if we buy you all a round of drinks?” Rita offered congenially, whipping out that million-watt smile of hers that tended to win people over.

“I know what I want a round of,” the Tellurite grunted, grasping Dox’s ample hindquarter with one hairy hand, as his compatriots hooted with what probably passed for laughter.

Knowing what was coming next, Rita pursed her lips and shook her head in regret.

Stepping away slightly, Dox slapped the unwelcome grope away with one hand while backing up to Rita. "Hey there, Mister. This ass is spoken for, thank you very much. Now, how about those drinks?"

With a forced smile on her face, Dox whispered back to Paris, "lesson one: Let them make the first move. Lesson two: target soft tissue. The throat, cartilage, joints."

As she whispered, the Tellurite had decided he had had enough and was going to take what he wanted as he lunged forward to try and grab Dox's wrist to pull her towards him. As her did, the irritated Romulan instead caught him by the hand first, twisting it hard over and bending it backwards. He let.out an almost cartoonist squeal at the unexpected pain as she shoved him away towards his friends.

"So, no drinks then?" Dox said backing up to Rita.

“Okay big fella, you’re not gonna give me any WHOOP!“ Rita began as the hand the size of her torso descended on her, so she sidestepped it. “Come on guys, we don’t want any trouble!”

“Found some,” the lumbering brute turned to refocus on her, even as the Tellurite and the Nausicaans moved in on Dox, getting in one another’s way.

The three advancing on Dox at a time were a problem, so the quick thinking young officer decided to change the order of things. Grabbing a barstool, she flung it at the Tellurite's legs causing him to stumble over it an crash to the deck, blocking the one Nausicaan with the missing ear. This left the one-eyed Nausicaan to attack first while the other two regrouped behind him.

"C'mere, little girl!" He roared as he lunged down at her, clearly having almost two feet on the stout young officer. As he did, Dox leaned to the side, blocking the lunge to redirect his momentum past her towards the bar. As she did, she planted one leg firmly in front of his and dropped her elbow hard into his side. The result was a very large Nausicaan slamming face-first into the bar with enough force to make him extremely angry.

Calling back over her shoulder as the other two advanced, Dox yelled. "How are you doing, Commander?"

In a surprising display of skill and grace, Rita Paris was playing 'keep away' from the lumbering brute who was slow-moving but determined. Sidestepping, deflecting, spinning out of the way and ducking, she wasn't attacking him- but he hadn't laid a finger on her yet, either.

"Oh, you know, doing that dance I know so well- whoop!" Rita stumbled over a guy in chair, rolled with it and came back to her feet, using the fall to get a little distance as someone in the crowd shoved her at the big lunk trying to land her. Grabbing an empty chair, she employed it as a shield as his oversized mitt groped for her.

The slam into the bar had given Hrugl a concussion, and his sinuses were currently filling with his life's blood. But he was up, and he was conscious, and he was going to hurt that little bitch. Grabbing up a barstool, he swung it with all his remaining might, as well as his blurred vision would allow. A nighty blow was struck, as he rebounded the stool off the bar and struck himself in the face with it.

The earless Nausicaan in the dirty red leathers snarled but it came out as more of a snicker. "Am I getting paid for this, Captain?"

"Yes!" roared the bristly Tellurite as he produced a collapsible baton.

"Imirrhlhhse! Dox cursed to herself in Rihan, "Evasion is half the fight, sometimes. In any scenario where you had a phaser, evasion would enable you to use it. But we DON'T have Phasers, Commander. So..."

Suddenly, the Nausicaan still on his feet made his move, taking a swing and barely missing Dox's head as she just barely ducked out of the way. But he was swinging wild, and Dox took advantage.

"He's bigger!" As she shouted, she folded her fingers into a wedge and jabbed hard into the Nausicaan's lower ribs as he swung causing him to grunt in pain but not slow down.

"I noticed!" Paris retorted as he grabbed the chair and hoisted her off the ground with it. Dropping to the floor, she eyed the behemoth who was now armed with her lion taming chair.

"But if he's moving, he has soft spots. What are they!?" As she continued to yell across to Paris, the angry Nausicaan lunged, successfully grabbing Dox by the neck with one hand. She led out a garbled choking sound as her reared his other hand back to hit her.

But in doing so, her brought the much shorter woman in extremely close, and she took that one second window to move. With a sharp snap, she tucked her hand back into the same wedge shape and drove it hard into the trachea of the Nausicaan.

With a sucking gasp, he released Dox and began clutching at his throat, struggling for air. "He... he's breathing. He's looking... He's looking at you..."

I her time Rita Paris had seen plenty of dirty fights, and been involved in a few herself. She knew about the soft spots, she just hated hurting people like that.

Gasping herself, Dox struggled to yell back to Rita hoarsely. "Soft points. Throat. Eyes. Knees. Groin. Go for them like I showed you." As she spoke, she grabbed the gasping Nausicaan by the sides of his head and slammed his face hard into her knee and shoved him back where he crumbled to the ground, now gasping through his own blood at the feet of the Tellurite, who held his baton up but looked decidedly less confident about the whole affair.

"Why are you so determined to fight with me?" Rita ducked and dodged as he tried to use the chair to pin her. "I'm not your enemy, I only want to be friends!"

"M'gonna hump ya," the lumbering brute said thickly, and the eyebrows of the pretty pilot shot up.

"You're going to what now?" Rita worked to keep a table between them in her ongoing game of keep-away.

"M'gonna screw yuh on this table," the brute mumbled, and the buxom blonde's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, mister. I can be a good sport about getting handsy. I mean, I've got a mirror." Rita stepped into his space and let him wrap one of his big mitts around her, surprised at how effective it was at immobilizing her. But it got her very close to him, and a cursory glance revealed just where his genitals were, because he was excited to meet her.

As a runner, Rita Paris had strong legs with great flexibility and muscle tone. So while she was not the best with a punch or a judo chop, her legs were long and strong, and Starfleet had taught her a number of kicks. In this case it was from the soccer field that she brought this particular combat move, as she place-kicked the big bruiser in the genitals.

At which point he grunted. Upon which she followed that kick up with a succession of three more as he held her there, grunting after each impact, until his grip on her relinquished. As he sagged to the ground, Rita Paris snapkicked him across the jaw a few more times for good measure before looking around for Mnhei'sahe Dox.

Across the bar, Dox was standing behind the Tellurite, who was now on his knees as she had his baton in her own hands, pressing hard against the top of his throat as he began to black out. "Time to go to sleep, now. To dream of huge asses."

As he flumped to the ground, face first on the posterior of the first, unconscious Nausicaan, Dox looked over to Rita's handiwork. She tilted her head with a smirk as she commented. "Very effective. He's off of you and hurt. But..."

As Dox spoke, the moans turned into a rageful roar as the brute began to work his way up to his knees. "...Now he's really pissed, and still conscious."

As he began to rise, Dox, from behind, kicked the back of his knee out making him stumble back to the ground for a moment with a thud. "We're talking." She hissed down at him as she tossed the baton over to Rita.

"The judo chops they teach at the academy are effective because they attack a nerve cluster right here." Dox pointed to a spot on the base of her neck. "He's got those same nerves. But he's too dense to just use your hand."

"You're going to keep being unreasonable if I let you up. See, this is why I carry a phaser, because I just don't like this sort of thing," Rita sighed, then eyed the brute as his face contorted into a snarl. Whipping the baton across the intersection of the shoulder and neck of the big lug, Rita still had to hit him a half dozen times before his eyes finally rolled back up in his head and he drooped to the floor.

Tossing the baton back to Dox, Rita muttered, "I still don't enjoy fighting. Still got to get used to it, though." Stepping over the fallen ogre, she headed back for the bar.

"It's better that you don't enjoy it, Commander. Your way is better." Dox conceded. "Unfortunately, this way is necessary sometimes."

At the bar, Dox grabbed the bottle of Andorian Ale and filled the glasses as the rest of the bar patrons gave the pair a wide berth. "So, of all the targets you had, you went straight for his crotch?" The winded Romulan chuckled slightly as she spoke. "Not wrong, but what other key strike points did he have to exploit?"

"Throat, eyes... he didn't have a nose, so joints, as anywhere he bent were likely vulnerable, possibly the instep, unknown if his midsection was soft tissue like in most mammals," Paris easily rattled off. It wasn't that she was unaware of the tactical situation, after all. She just didn't want to use it if she didn't have to. "I went for the crotch because he threatened to molest me- it seemed fitting and poetic."

"Drink in the face could have bought me time," Paris began rattling off her assessment of the situation. "If he'd been more determined with his strikes I could have maneuvered him into taking out one of your opponents for me. I could have improvised a weapon out of the materials at had with a bottle, glass or piece of furniture, or likely swiped a weapon from one of the other bar patrons enjoying being spectators. But you never know what you're going to get there, and far more likely to end up with something deadly in hand that would escalate rather than end the conflict bloodlessly."

Taking another drink, Dox commented with a slight smile. "Excellent. And, yeah. I probably would have brutalized the groin as well. You did the right thing, considering his size, as joint strikes would have likely hurt you more than him. And you likely would have needed to be in your EVA armor for a midsection strike to be effective."

"But..." She added "The main goal with him was to get you past your fear to act. It was a good first step."

Then, the portly pilot looked up. "Computer. 4 antagonists. Human. Level 2 please."

With a chirp, 4 human thugs shimmered into existence at the door. None armed, but all angry looking. The tallest of the three yelled across the room. "Hey, you bitches can't do that to our boys!"

Rolling her eyes, Paris ran her fingers through her short blonde hair, then cracked her knuckles.

"You certainly do choose odd ways to unwind, Miss Dox..."