A Major Beating

[Madelyn Lowe]

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Security Bureau, Dosuun Headquarters.
FOSB Field Academy. 1700 hours.
--

Security Bureau, Dosuun Headquarters.
FOSB Field Academy. 1700 hours.

Emilia stepped into the soft afternoon light shining across the parade ground of the FOSB Field Academy on Dosuun. It had been almost a year and a half since she'd stood in the centre of the square, head high as she graduated to become a Staff Officer of the First Order Security Bureau, the finest and most prolific intelligence organisation in the galaxy. While it was true that she'd been headhunted from the Navy to serve in the Bureau, she was still subjected to the same rigorous training that all of the other recruits went through. The process was demanding and intensive, but it produced capable agents every time.

It seemed so long ago that she'd last been here. Certainly she'd been through a lot. In her 6 field assignments she'd taken her fair share of beatings, and in the many hours gathering intelligence and interrogating the galaxy's most wanted, Emilia had seen some of the most vile creatures the Galaxy had to offer, in some of the least populated backwater worlds there were. The person she'd been all those months ago was an ignorant child, she knew nothing that Emilia did now.

Still, she knew she wasn't perfect. She'd learned from painful experience time and again that her basic training was not enough to defend herself, especially with her small stature, and lack of blaster proficiency. As the need for large scale field operations continued to increase within the Bureau, she understood that in order to defend herself, she would need to develop her skills in a more specialised form of hand-to-hand combat. One that she could use her balance against her enemies, instead of the First Orders traditional form of dirty tactics, and aggressive, forceful blows.

Dressed in loose shorts and a t-shirt, Emilia stepped into the hand-to-hand arena. A small dojo in which cadets of the Bureau would be trained as a group in close combat. Classes had finished for the day, and Emilia's footsteps echoed across the empty room as she crossed into the centre arena, which was comprised of a series of very thin cushioned mats on a raised section of floor. She looked around for her trainer, no sign of anyone yet, but she'd been assured that they were highly proficient in hand-to-hand, and would teach her how to properly defend herself.

Emilia leaned against one of the columns that ran along the length of the dojo, drumming her fingers on her leg as she waited for her instructor.

[member="The Major"]​

 

[The Major]

"Splendid!"​

​

It was unclear from exactly where the whimsical voice propagated from -only that one moment the room was empty, and the next it was clearly occupied from an opposing corner.

"Excellency goes hand-in-hand with the thirst for self-improvement."​

The Major appeared brimming with a wide smile, adorned in a simple training robe that you might see a Ren disciple toadying about in -only for most of the First Order it was technically impossible to see such an example. She came ready to spar and forewent her usual silver framed spectacles for contacts instead. Training could be a sloppy process, and it would be a tragedy if her specifically engineered glasses bought the farm today.

"And what luck! Most opponents on the field will outweigh, outsize, and be much faster than you. Thus our training will be even more relevant: since I also outweigh, outsize, and am much faster than you. But fear not! With the proper application of technique, mental dexterity, and a whole lot of practice you'll find that none of those factors matter. We'll make a true hunter of you yet."

Stepping over to one end of the dojo, the good Fallanassi faced Miss Ravel's person and proceeded with a flourishing bow: touching her left hand's fingers upon the spot over her heart while extending her right arm straight outwards to the side. It was hard to say what exactly was making the Major so cheerful, but considering her skill set that might be the shadow of menace overriding an otherwise happy face.

"Now. Please stretch thoroughly. Once that is complete, I'd like for you to attack me. Your objective will be to simply land a blow. Do not hold back -and use whatever technique you deem appropriate. The idea is to see what kind of tricks you might've picked up over your deployments."

Introductions and declaration of expectations complete, the Major then unclasped her robe and tossed it aside. Underneath she wore what looked like a black, form fitting wetsuit with thin leather padding around the wrists, ankles, and various other soft bits or sensitive areas. Seemingly comfortable enough, she proceeded to stretch and warm up herself. Nothing fantastical could be reported, for it was nothing a cadet of the Security Bureau Field Academy wouldn't be already accustomed with.

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia jumped as the voice of [member="The Major"] melted from the emptiness behind her. She turned to see the woman standing before her, dressed in some sort of cermonial training garb. Her heart jumped at the sight of the intimidating woman. She had a way of creeping up on you. She gave the Station Chief a small smile. "It is good to see you, Major." She seemed very cheerful, which gave Emilia the idea that she was about to be beaten to a pulp. No matter though, she couldn't think of nobody better to teach her the secrets of hand-to-hand. The woman had saved her life on Naboo, after all.

Jumping to her feet, she moved to join The Major at the centre of the Dojo, strecthing dutifully as instructed. She did her best to ignore the tautness in her side muscles, that old injury shouldn't be bothering her now. She was stronger than that. The small staff officer sucked in a deep breath and joined the woman on the broad circular training mat. She began to clear her mind, casting out all doubts and fears from her mind. She ignored the intimadation of The Major, and the sickness of her stomach as she thought of the prospect of fighting the fearsome agent. She cast her mind to her books, to her training, recalling everything she could from her lessons that seemed so long ago.

It was 15 years ago. She was sitting in the cold rain, back in her childhood town, watching as a man was beaten into the mud, and stripped of his valuables by a group of thugs down the street. She remembered what she'd said when she'd run to see him. "Papa," she'd said, "I would have fought them, but there were too many." She recalled his gentle smile, and the slight twinge of discomfort at his split eyebrow. He'd said "I know you would have, my sweet. Because you're a hero, and you're going to grow up to be the strongest and bravest girl in the whole galaxy." And she'd taken his hand, and they'd walked home in the pouring rain.

She nodded almost imperceptibly to The Major. "I'm ready. Let's go."

She slowly began to circle, one foot crossing behind the other. Left behind right, right behind left. She stopped, bowing both legs and shifting her centre of gravity. She tensed, coiling her muscles in preparation to spring. When she was two metres away from her opponents, she moved, bending down low and crossing the distance between them in a few short steps. As she rushed towards the woman, she splayed her left hand, holding it out just in front of her chest. As she did so she raised her right arm, holdining it just below parallel with her shoulders, elbow behind the shoulderblade. She shifted her balance to her left foot, pulling her left hand back and stepping with her right foot, swinging her body round to transfer the force of her momentum.

Twisting her torso, she aimed for her opponents ribs, hoping that she'd been caught off-guard by her initial charge.

 

[The Major]

The brutal and simple truth was that most forms of hand-to-hand combat refined down to the principle of struck-and-be-struck. Techniques and training could limit the amount of risk to an extent, but it all really came down endurance and instinct -along with healthy doses of pain tolerance. And so as the Major simply stood there, watching Emilia circle, her own stance loosened to something disturbingly relaxed. Her shoulders drooped and her arms hung askance. Even her neck seemed to go like a wet noodle, drooping at an odd angle adorned with ripper grin revealing a set of pearly whites where a human mouth would be.

It looked like the Major was but a marionette cut free, except those blue eyes continuously peered at Emilia's face.​

​

Was it all an act? Bluster to potentially unnerve the Staff Officer?​

​

. . .Not bloody likely. . .​

​

Eventually the attacker would have circled around the gawky looking instructor apparently rolling her head maintain the stare, body only turning to maintain a side profile to the prospective trainee. The strike then came; expertly, Miss Ravel closed the gap with precise footing and launched a body-assisted punch that would make any academy drill instructor impressed with the fine motor skills on display. But the evasion came, unlikely and nigh incomprehensible in the heat of the moment. The Fallanassi's left side was in threat, but as Emilia drew back her own left arm to begin the savage punch, the Major's own left arm was darting upwards in open palm as if to say "Hello!" The arm continued in circular motion as her feet began to roll from the joints to the heels. A fat slap skidded on the right side of Emilia's punch, sliding upwards towards her elbow before she would start feeling the force of smack. Pushing away with her feet at the same moment, the instructor hopped backwards barely a half meter -almost being caught by the fist. Any slower and she definitely would have been.

Once again standing upon the balls of her feet, the Major could riposte in any number of ways with most of her opponents' right backside exposed like this. Her preferred method would most likely be to either break the target's right knee with a downward stomp, or to bind them in a hold. For the sake of instruction however she had flowed from quick-dodge to posture awaiting her trainee's response with both arms raised in a traditional boxing stance.

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia's arcing fist was shoved to the side as The Major met it with a swift and well aimed open-palmed slap, which slightly diverted the direction of the punch, and more importantly provided a force that pushed the Staff Officer and the Station Chief apart. Immediately following the strike, Emilia instinctively corrected her balance, shifting her weight from her left foot to a more even distribution. Despite this, when her fist just barely skimmed past the retreating torso of The Major meeting no resistance, the momentum carried her with it.

The circular force she had applied carried her forwards, twisting her body around. To combat this she hunkered down low, bending her knees and trusting her left leg forward to halt any further forward momentum. Raising herself back to her full height, she spun left and stepped back, turning to face her opponent, who was now waiting for her next strike.

Emilia puffed, breathing heavily. She waited for a moment, assessing The Major, who stood patiently awaiting her next move. She looked the woman up and down. It was clear to her now that what the woman had said about her speed was not just talk, but she was indeed much faster than Emilia, stronger too by the force she put behind a simple slap. She made the resolution to attempt to take the woman by surprise.

Moving in quickly and planting her feet, right foot in front, left behind, Emilia began the setup for the most basic fist-fighting maneuver taught to the cadets of the Bureau, a standard linear punch. Her right swing had been too wild, if her opponent was slower then maybe she would have landed a devastating blow. The Major, however was a highly trained professional, which meant Emilia would have to fight like a professional. Raising her fists to eye-level, she stepped with her left foot, knowing that the woman would automatically anticipate a jab from the opposite arm. Instead she twitched her right arm but pushed out powerfully with her left, using the momentum from her step to add to the force of the punch. Then, she corrected the vector of the punch. Instead of aiming for the floating rib on the Major's left side, she instead aimed up and to the left, trying to land a harmless blow to the woman's shoulder.

After all, the objective was to merely land a blow.

[member="The Major"]​

 

[The Major]

"Good!"

The words came out more like a hiss than positive affirmation. Usually, in a fight there was no time to actually think and most motions were translated instinct ported over from hours upon hours of conditioning. For that reason alone the Major forgot her position as instructor -excitement taking over and dictating a new pace. Reacting in bestial fashion, the combatant bared her teeth and pushed towards [member="Emilia Ravel"]'s blasting left arm feint. The taller woman's right arm conducted another half spin -spinning counterclockwise from Emilia's perspective and swatting the jab outwards with the forearm. It wasn't a perfect block, and Miss Ravel's fist pounded upon the aforementioned forearm while being shoved away from causing a bodily touch. The Fallanassi then further stepped into Emilia's guard, shunting her weight along the attacker's chest and also placing a left leg rudely between the stance. It was a messy, bumpy affair that probably would cause both parties their share of bruises later. But who could feel such things in the moment.

Momentum didn't just stop, and now the Major's right hand was wrapped tightly around Emilia's left elbow, pulling it out in a way that should cause the redhead to start losing her center of gravity. A sharp hip shunt and thrust of the Major's left upon threatened to topple the attacker to the mat. Unless of course she had another trick up her sleeve. . .

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia did not have another trick up her sleeve. As her momentum carried her forward, she grinned confidently at the Major. She'd taken the woman by surprise, landing the hit she'd aimed for on her arm. She retracted her arm from the blow, twisting to slow herself down as the speed from her strike, which carried her past her opponent.

As she attempted to slow herself, she felt The Major's hand grip her elbow. For a moment, she thought the woman was steadying her, halting her movement in order to shake her hand. However, as her opponent stepped closer, and quickly crossed the distance between them, Emilia knew she'd made a mistake. Almost as soon as this mistake was realised, her elbow was pushed outwards, and a bodily shove from the woman was enough to seal the deal.

Her eyes widened as her balance shifted, a half-hearted shove coming far too late to present the throw. Emilia fell back from the woman, turning as she fell and impacting the mat face down, landing on her hands to break her fall.

[member="The Major"]​

 

[The Major]

“Exceptional.”

That cheerfulness continued to verge upon a creeping gleam of glee up until the moment the good Major offered a hand to aid in Officer Ravel’s standto. One would be hard pressed to detect any sort of hiccup within the Fallanassi’s movements: no blushing, sweat, or even a huff of expelled air. One instead got the impression of endurance, and rightfully so. Soon the mirth melted away to a careful, stoic, but ultimately more of a friendly face. Inwardly, the four eyed freak was truly impressed. Somehow, although they both were clearly leagues apart in application Sybil could feel something rather persistent to Emilia. Here was someone could survive again and again should the fates allow it.

“You’re good, but you don’t play to your strengths. Textbook applications won’t save you from those who use the Force like a crutch. It’s no matter. You’ll learn to exploit their limits.”

With the right focus someone like Emilia could end up in charge of the Bureau. And there were far worse prospects or proposals than the walking redheaded disaster. Somehow the woman gave off the impression of some sort of bygone innocence. As though the entire galaxy was something to approach doe eyed and expecting the best. This also was no problem because appearances were often the result of biases. Regardless this could also be trained out of any agent as wily as the former cryptolinguistics agent.

Train they did.

Day after day for four evenings they struggled and fought as time permitted. Everyday Emilia improvised more effectively. On the fifth night a successful feint had lured the taller woman too far forward while she went for a lunge, and this time a crafty leg sweep and sent her careening in a twist unto the mat with a thud.

It was a lot of progress quickly, and even now the Major found herself pushing her stamina to its limit. A smile broke upon her face as she “tasted” the mat.

“As… hahhh… you can see. Hahh… it’s much harder to attack than it is to counter. Hah…”

​

[member="Emilia Ravel"]​