The blade missed the man's head only slightly, cutting off a piece of his hair. The first rule the man learned about combat while living in the slums of Thunder Bay Depot in Ontario is to never strike first. However he already risked his life with this broken rule, and while he was ambitious he was not stupid. He casually leaned back as the blade missed by a hair.
The man leaped back into defence position.
"Not bad, you are better than half the dimwits that always tried to kill me back at Thunder Bay." The man laughed in a nonhumorous way.
He twirled his knife into a reverse grip and sized up his opponent again, tossing the knife back and forth, back and forth between his two hands.
"Your turn.." he muttered softly.
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
Anastazia strode into the room, her face stoic and calm. Her hazel-green eyes locked on the recruiter's with trained discipline. "Sir." She said, standing to attention. Her uniform was her mother's, but she had taken the time to restore the color, an olive green.
As Ben watched him leap into a defensive posture a small smile crept upon his face.
He did not speak, for talking while fighting often got one wounded and also called an idiot by your instructor later on. He than ran at his opponent, lashing out with a kick with his steel-toed boots that would undoubtably hurt should it impact.
It was an unexpected move. The man did not see it coming. A big force pushed against his chest, and it was not until he staggered back did he notice it was the boot of the Lieutenant. However the man did not fall and was still on his feet. After quickly regaining his breath he then circled the opponent once again, waiting for the next attack and seeking another stragety.
Then the man saw it, a weakness! Now was the time to strike. He lunged foward with his knife and aimed for the arm of the lieutenant.
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
Ben backed off once he saw the knife swing, however it was too late for his sleeve, the distinct ripping sound was heard as knife met fabric, he barely cut the skin as a very small thin line of blood showed on his forearm, his Uniform would have to be repaired.
He quickly countered with an Open Palm thrust of his free hand to the chest and followed up with a horizontal slash of his knife arm towards the man's face, he didn't expect either to hit successfully as this was a further probe of the man's skills.
A young man of average stature, walked into the recruiting offices. His skin was darker, more pigmented than most people of sirius, clearly showing some heritage from Kusari in his bloodline. His eyes were a steady brown, with a look of clear focus. His demeanor, and cool, collected appearance remained evident. A long history of Martial Arts and hand to hand combat had conditioned him..
Unknown to most... White scars, years old already, lay on the bottoms of his booted feet. He had stepped too loudly in the house.... Lash marks across his back taught him patience and obediance to his superior... Many more adorned his chest and arms from the constant physical combat and dueling his trainers had put him through.
He glanced around the offices, noticing the coppery smell of dried blood, and the pungent aroma of fecal matter and urine, amongst the most horrific burning smell of some sort of meat. His eyes trailed slightly on the body being dragged out of the office, burnt beyond recognition...
He no longer allowed his senses to be tainted by the aura of intimidation permeating from each and every coalition member traversing the office. He set his mind on the task at hand, and the reason he came to this place. Remembering the pilots of the coalition he had seen throughout space during his time over the years.
He stood in front of the Main desk of the office. Looking calm and calculating, he spoke few, but meaningful words.
"My name is Tsukasa, I am here to serve."
He was sternly directed to take a seat and await his turn. Although, as he listened to the clear cat calls from fighting, and remembered the ravaged body burning... He began to think that it was possible, that he may more than likely, be awaiting an execution. Never the less, He closed his eyes, set his hands on his knees calmly, and sat comfortably upright. He would await his fate, one path leading to his servitude, the other his demise.
The man knew there was going to be a counter. He knew the officer was going to try a double attack and as it was too late to effectively dodge he had to take either a palm to the chest or the knife to the face. Common sense... The man kept lunging forward past the officer, took the palm to the chest and ducked, the knife missing only by a margin.
But, he needed to be swift to counter, so he turned around, leaped back up and overhanded with his knife, hoping to strike the Lieutenants skull..
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
' Wrote:"Excellent, another blind applicant. That will be ma'am, thank you. Now. Explain yourself. Who are you and why do you want to join the Coalition?"
Pekkala's right eyelid twitched. Oops. Back in the homestead, everybody was 'Sir'. "Anastazia Pekkala, ma'am. I am a descendant of the Sol Coalition saboteurs. Over the course of time, we have slowly drifted back to the main body. I -am- Coalition, through and through." Her eyes held a determined glint, and her jaw was set. Only death would make her back down.
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