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Years of combat had honed Belfast’s pragmatism, but even she had been prone to the odd instinct that took over, especially at inopportune times. Her peers—those of her ilk—had mused that the dulling of such an edge was an inevitability, what with their intelligences being exposed to the irrationality and unpredictability of un-heeded military doctrine ... <span class="mu-r">and, of course, being around beings that deliberately made a point to continue doing so out of what she had once deemed to be a compulsion to avert themselves from the logic of sanity</span>.
She’d always wondered if there would be a time, in the near or far future—for she did not know or consider when her functions would cease—where such things would rot her fascination away.
‘<span class="mu-i">A melee?</span>’ snaps Roon, incredulous from the attempt at an assault.
Judging by <span class="mu-b">the hooking maneuver</span> that she was taking right now, however, it would appear that some of that aversion to sanity had, indeed, carved its mark into the grooves of her brain ... and that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t completely be without benefit.
Or so she chooses to believe.
<span class="mu-r">Roon</span>’s power is overwhelming enough that she’s able to react and counter with the utmost simplicity, rolling away and coiling back to get a clean shot, working the angles with her armaments to follow-up on an appropriate punishment for Belfast’s foolish charge. Her opponent, however, was <span class="mu-i">not</span> having any of it tonight, deliberately assaulting her into a reset of her movements, pushing her intensely to the point her knees buckle into yet <span class="mu-i">another</span> reset of their positions. <span class="mu-r">Belfast</span> is more than aware of the sheer difference in output between them, having formed up with Formidable in a double assault with the intent of over-powering her quickly and efficiently; an assault that had succeeded in allowing her to be throne around more than she would have preferred.
Common doctrine was conventional and well-known for a reason, after all.
Roon’s expression changes with the next shift, slight as it is. Belfast grunts and shouts as she swings and hooks, point-blank shots missing their mark. By all accounts, there is no ground gained, neither is there an advantage being lost. In fact, Roon knows that with every swing and every volley, her advantage grows. The movements of her enemy are not of a gain, but a net loss. The gap in their abilities is much too great for her to over-come through brute force and conventional tactics. One staggered stance and a whistle of a projectile comes at the cost of much too much expansion of self. Roon is not even on the defensive proper, merely measuring the micro-seconds that could tick by before the—
‘Ah.’
—and that’s when Belfast has her by her uniform.
Her purple eyes glow defiantly.
>‘Let me teach you the basics of CQC ...’
>‘How’s your hand-to-hand?’
>‘Ippon.’
>Write-In
She’d always wondered if there would be a time, in the near or far future—for she did not know or consider when her functions would cease—where such things would rot her fascination away.
‘<span class="mu-i">A melee?</span>’ snaps Roon, incredulous from the attempt at an assault.
Judging by <span class="mu-b">the hooking maneuver</span> that she was taking right now, however, it would appear that some of that aversion to sanity had, indeed, carved its mark into the grooves of her brain ... and that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t completely be without benefit.
Or so she chooses to believe.
<span class="mu-r">Roon</span>’s power is overwhelming enough that she’s able to react and counter with the utmost simplicity, rolling away and coiling back to get a clean shot, working the angles with her armaments to follow-up on an appropriate punishment for Belfast’s foolish charge. Her opponent, however, was <span class="mu-i">not</span> having any of it tonight, deliberately assaulting her into a reset of her movements, pushing her intensely to the point her knees buckle into yet <span class="mu-i">another</span> reset of their positions. <span class="mu-r">Belfast</span> is more than aware of the sheer difference in output between them, having formed up with Formidable in a double assault with the intent of over-powering her quickly and efficiently; an assault that had succeeded in allowing her to be throne around more than she would have preferred.
Common doctrine was conventional and well-known for a reason, after all.
Roon’s expression changes with the next shift, slight as it is. Belfast grunts and shouts as she swings and hooks, point-blank shots missing their mark. By all accounts, there is no ground gained, neither is there an advantage being lost. In fact, Roon knows that with every swing and every volley, her advantage grows. The movements of her enemy are not of a gain, but a net loss. The gap in their abilities is much too great for her to over-come through brute force and conventional tactics. One staggered stance and a whistle of a projectile comes at the cost of much too much expansion of self. Roon is not even on the defensive proper, merely measuring the micro-seconds that could tick by before the—
‘Ah.’
—and that’s when Belfast has her by her uniform.
Her purple eyes glow defiantly.
>‘Let me teach you the basics of CQC ...’
>‘How’s your hand-to-hand?’
>‘Ippon.’
>Write-In
