Delores Sidhe enters from the Main Complex to the south. Kenya Momesa enters from the Main Complex to the south. Kenya Momesa follows after Delores. Delores Sidhe emerges from the main gates of the EDC complex, wiping one hand across her brow to slough off the last of the drizzled rain. She walks beside Kenya in step... and then stops cold, staring down the pathway at what she hopes is a visual aftereffect of her trance. Chikome-Ollin waves his EDC clearance pass to the front-gate guards with a faint smirk, making his way towards the main building upon being let in. Kenya Momesa stops walking as he sees Ollin. Delores Sidhe regards Chikome-Ollin with a glittering, dagger-filled look that takes in everything that he was, has been, is, and will be, and sends it to an abyss of hatred that knows no end. "What," she asks flatly, "are YOU doing here?" Chikome-Ollin's smirk widens, spotting two familiar faces in the crowd. He speaks with a loud, gruff voice as he approaches. "If it isn't my old friends Momesa and Sidhe." Stopping before Delores, he gives her a broad smile. "I'm here to see the 20 year old tanks these EDC consider new and high tech." Kenya Momesa says, "Greetings Warlord." Delores Sidhe obviously doesn't know a hovertank from a fuel tank, but offers Ollin her chin in askance. "And since when are the EDC letting you walk in as you well and highly please, Warlord Ollin?" Chikome-Ollin turns to adress Kenya with a curt nod. "Momesa. Nice to see you again. Have you been promoted to Chief Janitor yet, or are you still working your way up the ranks?" Kenya Momesa stays eternally calm, "I am not a janitor and I never have been a janitor and I never will be a janitor." Chikome-Ollin turns back to Delores, having his fill of looking at Kenya's ugly mug. "Since the Militants so graciously agreed to join with the EDC and the Autobot Machines in combating the Decepticons and freeing the Earth of one half the Machine menace." Chikome-Ollin nods. "My apologies.. sanitation engineer, correct?" Kenya Momesa says, "Your humor needs work." Delores Sidhe's deep a fiery hatred of Ollin and everything he once stood for does not waver. "And of course," she states, "your newfound friends are all-too-aware of your history of murder, rape, and conquest?" Chikome-Ollin smiles brightly at Delores. "Amazing what politicians will overlook in the interest of peace, isn't it?" Delores Sidhe spits her opinion of politicians into the gutter and lets it mingle with the rest of the sewage before answering. "Your moral compass is badly in need of tuning, Ollin." Chikome-Ollin steps a little closer to Delores, his smile growing. "My moral compass needs tuning?" He gives a brief loud laugh, glances over at Kenya, his gaze returning back to Delores, taking the time to look her over. "Are you offering to do the tuning yourself? If so, I accept." Kenya Momesa frowns. Delores Sidhe's face colors dramatically, the flush of anger standing out clearly against her pale white Irish complexion. HoverRacer enters from the San Fransisco Harbor to the west. Delores Sidhe's fists clench and unclench as she forces herself to remain calm. Calm. Calm is good. Calm is as the water flowing through the riverbrook. Calm is as the wind on a starlit night. CALM. HoverRacer gets herself up onto the beach from the water, and finds a decent path through the rocks, and up to the road once more, humming something softly to herself. It sounds like a child's song. Kenya Momesa says, "I think that is enough, Warlord." Chikome-Ollin glances again over at Kenya as he leans in to speak with Delores, grinning. He mutters to Delores Sidhe, "... need a moral... but... use a... tuning. From... something with more... starting with... corpse?" Delores Sidhe senses "Chikome-Ollin glances again over at Kenya as he leans in to speak with Delores, grinning. "I may need a moral tuning, but I think Kenya could use a personality tuning. From dull and boring to something with more life. Perhaps starting with a corpse?"" Kenya Momesa says, "Warlord Ollin, that is enough." Kenya Momesa moves toward Ollin. Delores Sidhe snarls suddenly. "No, Kenya, that is NOT enough. Are you insinuating something, *Ollin*? Tell me, how did you manage to get as far as you have in this silly Asian thing you're using as a prosthetic for your former rule, as stale and lifeless as your heart? Or did you simply trade your balls for your crown?" Delores Sidhe is beyond anger, her normally pretty features clouded with rage. As the hovercar gets nearer, the soft sounds of one of the more popular kids songs vibrates through her vocal circuits. "I love you, you love me....." she pauses seeing the mixed group, the song not faltering at the moment, as she gives a fairly inaudible sigh. Chikome-Ollin turns sharply to point his index finger at Kenya's face. "Don't start feeling bold and do something you're regret, Momesa. Unlike you who's let your stomach fill out a bit while working your desk job, I've only improved myself since coming here." He mutters to himself, "Except.... wives." Kenya Momesa says, "I don't sit behind a desk." Kenya Momesa says, "Now I believe you had somewhere to go." Delores Sidhe states flatly, "You, Warlord, are a pig. No more and no less than that which is slaughtered for sustinence, you and yours will be slaughtered to feed the cause of peace, in which you are useless." Chikome-Ollin turns back to Delores, finger still pointed at Kenya. "And you, Sidhe. How can you follow this lifeless bore? If I was forced to serve under him, I'd have put a bullet between my eyes years ago. As for Asia, her people decided that I was a worthy leader, at least there are some people on this planet with a bit of common sense." HoverRacer glides a bit slower, catching a bit of the conversation. "Wonderful.... " the song dies on her output circuits. Delores Sidhe remarks, "Apparently sense isn't very common, if the common people deemed you worthy of following so far as even the toilet." Kenya Momesa waits for Ollin to move along. Chikome-Ollin chuckles darkly. "I think you're confused Sidhe. If you want to see pigs, look around. I and my Militants, we're the canines that can either be useful for guarding the swine, or if we're feeling hungry, strike out and feast upon them." HoverRacer parks herself nearby, transforming to lean gently against a lamp post. The hovercar seems to stand, changing to Moonracer's robot mode. Moonracer mutters to herself. Delores Sidhe doesn't seem to notice the Autobot, having eyes only for the target center of Ollin's chest. "You bastard!" she practically shouts. "How can you claim to even a shred of legitemacy or benevolence, after everything you did on our world?" Moonracer frowns, watching the pair, but not doing anything to seem threatening. Kenya Momesa watches them as well. Chikome-Ollin reaches out to raise Delores' chin with a broad grin. "My face is up here, dear. It's like a fairy tale, is it not? The cruel, dark-hearted villan switching from it's evil ways to the side of good." Kenya Momesa says, "Unfortunately fairy tales rarely come true." Chikome-Ollin nods to Kenya. "You're still a frog." Delores Sidhe yanks her chin out of Ollin's touch, and with one fluid motion, draws back her palm in a predictable response. Moonracer tenses, moving a bit, just in case she's needed. Kenya Momesa frowns again. Kenya Momesa makes no move to stop Delores, yet. Ravenstep arrives from the Alameda ferry. Moonracer carefully holds herself, trying to remain inconspicuous in her place. She mutters something about Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus- and being slag. Lance Witwicky enters from the San Fransisco Harbor to the west. Lance Witwicky wanders in wiping off his hands with a greasy rag, kicking his pace up to a trot when he manages to spot Ollin. "Got a handle on that faulty magnetic plate.. I managed to crosswire power in from the secondary grid for now, but it'll need a new motivator once we get back...erm..." he trails off, apparently noticing other people in the area for the first time. Kenya Momesa is in front of Ollin. Moonracer keeps herself parked in a space nearby, sitting in the spot just large enough for herself. Chikome-Ollin glances backwards distractedly upon hearing Lance, Kenya and Delores in front of him in what seems to be a rather heated conversation. Lance Witwicky clears his throat uncomfortably and adds, "Uhh.. sir, that is." He twists the rag in his hands as though not quite sure what to do with it, then stuffs it in a back pocket. Delores Sidhe, pushed over the edge by Ollin daring to *touch* her, draws back her palm in what is almost a predictable response. Kenya Momesa says, "Delores!" Kenya Momesa shows some emotion and is a little shocked. Lance Witwicky yelps, "Hey, you can't do that--" Moonracer rises to one knee, moving towards the humans a bit more. "Uh oh." Delores Sidhe follows through nicely, her flattened palm striking the Warlord rather squarely and sweeping across in a decent arc, before returning to her side. Her cheeks are like the twin surfaces of apples, deep red and flaring with anger. Chikome-Ollin turns back to Delores, only to end up on the receiving end of a strong slap, the sound of her hand against his cheek echoing over the immediate area. His head twists briefly to the side from the unexpected slap, his expression hardening as he recovers. "You should not have done that, Sidhe." Kenya Momesa says, "This 'conversation' is over." Lance Witwicky slides a look over in Moonracer's direction at her movement, suddenly realizing there's something of interest over there, and freezes, staring. Evidently it's the first time he's seen one of those machines that're always in the reports. Delores Sidhe stares the much larger Warlord directly in the eyes, caring of neither his proximity nor her lack of armor. "There are *many* things which you should never have done, *Ollin*. Many things. That is only the slightest taste of the injustice your very existence inflicts on two worlds, now." Kenya Momesa says, "Delores, calm down." Moonracer shifts, uncertain of herself, or what to do with the humans in front of her. Delores Sidhe is visibly shaking with rage. A remote part of her mind registers Kenya's words, but a mere admonishment to calm herself is like so much window dressing on the caliber of fury she's worked up. It is as if nearly twenty years of resentment against everything the Militant Empire has stood for and done are boiling over the top and spilling out. Chikome-Ollin's eyes lock on Delores', casually reaching over to shove Kenya away. "This 'conversation' is just getting started. There are only two decisions I've ever made and regretted, Sidhe. Everything else I've had every right to do as I see fit. What do you know of injustice? Our war was merely ideological, we committed no injustices against you." Moonracer opens her mouth to start to say something, but changes her mind, and closes it again. Kenya Momesa looks at Ollin, "Move along Warlord, we do not need a fight here." Lance Witwicky fumbles a moment and finally retrieves his rag from his pocket, wiping it absently across his cheek with no regard to the streak of grease it leaves on his face. He keeps one ear cocked to the conversation but doesn't quite seem to be paying attention, his attention focused pretty much solely on Moonracer, eyes roving over her form with the intensity of a hawk. Delores Sidhe practically seethes. "Injustice? Ideology? Every RIGHT? Ollin, you are the most disgusting stereotype of the worst humanity has ever offered this world. Only someone of your depraved sickness could couch murder and evil in euphemisms like those." Moonracer seems to feel the eyes on her, looking around towards Lance. She tilts her head, studying him for a moment, then gives him a bit of a nervous smile before her attention is drawn back towards the conflict at hand. Chikome-Ollin turns his head slowly towards Kenya, his cheek still red from the slap, his chest rising and lowering slowly as he fights back the urge to strike all the Benefactors down now. "If you wish to keep the peace, Momesa, then I suggest you haul the bitch out of here." Kenya Momesa forcefully says, "I will not let you bully us, Warlord. Your taunting rewarded you with that slap, leave now before you bring anything else on yourself." Kenya Momesa moves to the side and motions to the bases entrance. Delores Sidhe's eyes flare dangerously. There are few words that will instantly set her off... and Ollin managed to rather blithely stumble upon one of them. With that, Delores' other arm draws back. Kenya Momesa sighs. Moonracer flinches, and moves towards them. "Um.. Ma'm? Please.." Lance Witwicky breaks off, apparently filing something away mentally on the fascinating Object of Interest that is Moonracer. "Err, maybe you shouldn't do that..." Chikome-Ollin brings his arm up with a speed surprising for one of his stature, catching Delores' wrist before she makes contact and giving a tight squeeze. Shaking his head in disappointment, he looks back towards Lance. "And they're suprised why we manage so many major victories over them back in our universe?" Kenya Momesa raises his voice, "Both of you, quit this nonsense!" Delores Sidhe takes advantage of the momentary distraction between Ollin and Lance. Shifting her stance ever so slightly, she turns his lock on her wrist into a fulcrum point, wheeling the larger Warlord over her shoulder and to the ground. Lance Witwicky tugs at his beard distractedly and nods in slightly uncertain agreement, breaking off with a startled blink at Delores' sudden movement. "I, ah, don't think getting him angry's a terribly good idea there..." Chikome-Ollin lands on his back with a woof of roughly expelled air, his face hardening even further with anger and rage towards the Benefactors, reaching reactively for his pistol. "If we weren't in front of the EDC base, Sidhe..... this will /not/ be forgotten..." Kenya Momesa says, "Delores, stop!" Delores Sidhe doesn't appear to be thinking reasonably at the moment as she follows through with the blindingly quick movement, hopping back a step at the tremendous THUD. Her hands twitch... and only then does she seem to realize the position she's in: unarmed, unarmored, facing a larger, faster, and more powerful opponent. Forcing herself visibly back to a semblance of reason, she takes several slow, deep breaths. Tatyana enters from the San Fransisco Harbor to the west. Tatyana makes her way up, heading to the watering hole. Lance Witwicky stays on the edge of the conflict, remembering the rag in his hand and wringing it nervously, shifting his weight but not actually moving in. Chikome-Ollin pulls himself to his full height as he stands over Delores, breathing with quick breathes. His hand rests briefly on the grip of his pistol, eyes flaring if they could, his voice a bit more brutish as he speaks. "I'd like nothing more than to gut you right here, taking my time to pull every inch of intestines out to decorate the base with." Delores Sidhe is obviously afraid of Ollin doing precisely that... as any reasonable person would be. Afraid or not, however, she stands her ground, staring up into Ollin's eyes with an intensity to equal his own. "And in doing so," she states, with the utmost in enforced control over her voice, "you know I would take as much of your flesh with me in pieces as possible." Lance Witwicky nods speculatively to himself, mentally tallying up the amount of time that would require to patch the person up afterward. Kenya Momesa says, "Delores, we are leaving now." Tatyana yawns, and makes her way into the bar, after a few moments, she comes out with a nice big gallon of cheap American vodka. She giggles sardonically, and makes her way over to the group, "Ah, we are seeing who has the bigger set of testicles, nyet? I'd suggest giving up, Comrade Warlord, she seems to have something to want to prove." Lance Witwicky looks startledly at Tatyana. "She has testicles?" Lance Witwicky thinks about that one a second and immediately regrets blurting it. Tatyana nod to Lance, and takes a long swig from her jug, "Da.. she's too ugly to be feminine." Kenya Momesa looks at Tatyana and Lance, "Will you two be quiet?" Delores Sidhe turns to Tatyana, calming herself. With her calm comes her ordinary biting wit, and she remarks icily, "Of course, Tatyana. Though I didn't know you were that anxious to get me out of the picture. Are you that eager to jump into Ollin's bed? I didn't think public places or audiences stopped you." Tatyana smirks, "There you go, mistaking me for that heifer Innana again, Delores." Delores Sidhe returns her gaze to Ollin, locking eyes with him as she withdraws, walking back towards Kenya and forcing herself not to continue the years-old banter. Kenya Momesa says, "Lets go now." Lance Witwicky stifles something that may have either been laughter, reproach or just outright shock. Either way, his expression turns decidedly odd for a moment. Tatyana waves Delores, "Buhbye now.. we know how much Kenya must entertain you with his montone speeches." Lance Witwicky mutters to Tatyana, "... about *his*..." Chikome-Ollin breaks his gaze from Delores to address Kenya. "Momesa! Haven't you learned how to keep your little pet on a leash yet?" He looks back at Delores with a twisted grin, making an exaggerated attempt to look her over. "She's obviously not built for anything else. I have no doubt I could live without what piece of me you managed to take with you to the afterlife, Sidhe." Kenya Momesa looks back at Ollin and says, "Good bye." then starts walking away. Tatyana snickers, her breath reeking of alcohol, as she leans over and mutters to Lance. She mutters to Lance Witwicky, "I... Ask Innana, Nabiki, or Delores what Ollin is like in bed. They... would..." Lance Witwicky ahems. "Err, no, that's quite all right.." Chikome-Ollin, fortunately for Tatyana, is out of earshot. Kenya Momesa says, "Come on, Delores." Delores Sidhe is walking back towards Kenya, cooling herself down. Registering Tatyana's words distantly, she appears to take no notice, shuffling her dress boots along in the post-rain mud. Suddenly, scooping up a decent amount of it on the scalloped tip of one boot, she wheels and flings it at Tatyana with a swift kicking motion. Tatyana erks, as the mud splashes all over her shirt and shorts, making her growl softly. She grins wickedly, and strides towards Delores, stopping mere inches from her face. "Usually, I would consider this a waste..." she spits into her face. "But this is cheap captalist garbage anyway..." as she proceeds to dump the 3/4ers full bottle of Vodka over Delores head. Kenya Momesa stops walking. Lance Witwicky murmurs, "Oh dear.." Tatyana tosses the bottle aside, and pulls out a small lighter, "Now then, shall I give you a light?" Kenya Momesa turns around and says, "Do we have to keep acting like children?" Delores Sidhe sputters and coughs as the grain alcohol splashes over her head, and before Tatyana can make another move, she screams and lunges the short distance, inflamed again. Chikome-Ollin shakes his head regretfully once Delores kicks the mud. "If you thought testing me was a bad idea, Sidhe." He lets out a deep chuckle while watching the two. "Just alcohol? Where's the... Nevermind." Tatyana woofs as the larger woman slams her into a tackle and slides back, growling, "Insolent wench, you shall not live a moment longer!" she cackles manically, as she grabs at Delores' ear and rips at it hard. Kenya Momesa runs over to Delores and Tatyana, "Stop this now!" Lance Witwicky sighs and checks his watch, recognizing this as one of those Tatyana-things that just has to run its course. Delores Sidhe snarls as Tatyana yanks at her ear, the nails drawing blood. "At least--oof!" She jabs her elbow back into Tat's sternum, satisfied with the result, and rolls out of the embrace, coming up to her feet. "At least," she completes, "I'm not so lubricated by alcohol that my brains are going to slide out of my ass!" Chikome-Ollin moves to intercept Kenya, keeping him back with an outstretched arm. "Let them be, Momesa. It's been awhile since I've been entertained." He grins darkly as he continues. "Five hundred bucks on Tatyana." Kenya Momesa points at Ollin, "If you want entertainment then go home." Lance Witwicky offers helpfully, "I don't think Miss Sidhe would want to come back with us.." Kenya Momesa looks at Lance and says, "Please be quiet." Lance Witwicky shrugs. "You did ask..." Tatyana oofs, and doubles up for a moment, slicing at Delores with a flick motion as she rolls away, and unfurrows from her breathless ball, a deadly blossom of destruction. She pulls the laser pistolf rom her boot and darkly swing it around at Delores, cackling wildly, "Well done or medium rare, hussie?" Kenya Momesa yells at Tatyana, "Stop!" Lance Witwicky rocks back on his heels. "I don't think she's going to listen..." Chikome-Ollin leans over to Kenya, speaking with a mocking tone of disappointment. "Aww, don't stop them now, it's just getting interesting." Delores Sidhe isn't in a position to answer. In fact, her position is approximately one meter from Tatyana as the words leave her lips, already ducked and rolling towards the perceived threat. Lashing up with a lightning-quick motion, she traces her right foot in an upwards kick that strikes surely for Tatyana's wrist, intending to send the pistol sailing well out of reach. Kenya Momesa says, "I suggest your control your soldiers, Warlord." Lance Witwicky says blithely, "Why? You're the one who wants to stop them.. you stop them. I learned it's better not to try." Chikome-Ollin nods in agreement, turning to Lance. "Witwicky, I order you not to interfere, unless of course it's to patch up the hole Sidhe's about to have." Lance Witwicky nods. "No desire to get in the middle of.. that. Sir." Tatyana roars in anger as her wrist gets snapped back, the pistol sailing through the air, and landing in the mud puddle. "I do not need weapons, I will kill you with me bare hands!" she roars, as she rushes in, driving an open-palmed fist into Delores's chin. Kenya Momesa says, "I am reaching the end of my patience, Warlord." Tempest enters from the San Fransisco Harbor to the west. Tempest walks down the sidewalk, a large paper shopping bag slung over her arm. Chikome-Ollin shrugs apathetically towards Kenya. "Your troop started it. If you had any control over your own soldiers, this never would have happened. As it is, Tatyana will see that it's finished." Tempest stops, noticing the commotion, and makes her deliberate way over to investigate. Kenya Momesa says, "You and your friends started this mess." Kenya Momesa says, "And I would like to see you prove the control you think you have over your soldiers." Delores Sidhe's jaw whips back at the blow, and she grunts, lithely recapturing her balance in a way that, more than anything, declares her past as a performer. In the same motion, she spins on one heel, pirouetting and crooking her balance knee to slowly whip one rigid boot around, striking at Tatyana with a vicious roundhouse kick. Tempest clears her throat, informing the others that she is there. "A quiet shopping trip?" she asks dryly, raising a thin eyebrow. Tatyana cackles as she tears into Delores' jaw, a murderous look in her eyes as she watches the pirouette and jerks back her head from the boot as it barely whiffs by her head. "You dance too much, toravisch... you need a new lesson!" She hits upon her idea, laughing wildly as she drives out her steel-toed hiking boot at Delores' planted knee. Delores Sidhe is engaged in a sultry catfight with Tatyana, both women covered with mud and wading in more of it as they stand in a rapidly degenerating grassy area near the EDC base. Chikome-Ollin shakes his head, motioning Tempest over with a grin. "Tempest. Actually, we came to view the new EDC tanks. However, these Benefactors sought to entertain us instead, and have been doing an excellent job so far." Lance Witwicky clears his throat helpfully. "And you know how Tatyana likes to improvise.." Tempest hrms, turning her attention to the 'engagement'. "Yes, it's always rewarding to see how our Commander of the Clouds enjoys her work." Kenya Momesa moves past Ollin and heads toward the fight. Tempest says, "She's an inspiration to us all." Kenya Momesa says, "Delores!" Delores Sidhe cries out as the strike glances across her knee, just enough to set her off-balance. Collapsing, she attempts to recover from the fall, sweeping one leg around in a swift lash towards Tatyana's ankle, attempting to take her opponent right off her feet. "Have a seat, babushka!" Kenya Momesa says, "Stop this now!" Delores Sidhe doesn't appear to be hearing Kenya. The words are hollow, and they fall on ears that are attuned to nothing except the heavy breathing of her opponent. Chikome-Ollin raises his voice. "I'd watch out if I were you, Momesa. Get too close and you're liable to get hurt!" Tempest says, "My dear Kenya, you're only upset because yours is losing." Chikome-Ollin nods in agreement with Tempest, speaking to her. "He wouldn't even wager on his Sidhe against my offer of five hundred on Tatyana." Kenya Momesa stops walking. Tatyana laughs as she leaps, he kick sweeping under her feet as she curls up her knees, "You look good in mud, wench." she growls out, and she descends quickly, driving out both of her legs, and bracing ridgidly as she tries to jump ontop of Delores as she falls. "Let me give you a better taste, da?" Kenya Momesa says, "Stop this madness now!" Tempest sighs dramatically and turns to regard Ollin. "These Obstructors can be so petulant when they're losing." Tempest says, "They have to go and ruin the fun for the rest of us." You say, "That's always what they've been best at." Kenya Momesa shouts out louder, "Delores! Stop fighting!" Tatyana cackles manically, ignoring the pain in her knees as she drives her legs into the Obstructor boy-toy. Delores Sidhe yeowps as Tatyana slams into her, and, unable to disengage herself, takes advantage of the close proximity. "The difference is, I *like* the mud, you obsequious skirt." She laces both hands together by the fingers, and drives her elbow up towards the nearest target. "Mud is a part of the Goddess, too." Lance Witwicky absently wraps his rag around one hand as he scans the combatants, keeping careful tabs on current conditions, not that pulling Tatyana out seems a terribly plausible notion even if she WERE hurt badly. Tatyana laughs loudly, "You stupid toy, I was crawling through the mud of a battlefield while you had your pansie ass up on a stage, singing for your bed!" As she twists away from the blow, and quickly tries to roll off, driving a quick elbow at the back of Delores' head. "Give it up now, Irish, and I'll make your death painless!" Chikome-Ollin leeans closer to Tempest. "Do we have a hose in the Leviathan to clean off our mud-wrestler before taking her back to base?" Tempest glances toward the coast. "We could give her the Coyote treatment and roll her in the ocean before we bring her home..." Kenya Momesa says, "Delores!" Delores Sidhe half-turns as the fist goes sailing over her shoulder, and laughs. "At least my voice is good for something other than begging Ollin for more, girl." Latching onto Tatyana's arm as she says this, she adroitly attempts to flip the Militant completely over one shoulder and into the mud below. Tatyana twists herself around in midflip, slipping neatly in the mud to her knees as she lands. Her left fist grabs a handful of the gunk and grins maliciously, "But I heard you did that well too." She lifts up the mud, "You like nature so much.. have a nice mouthful!" She drives the mud-filled hand down at Delores' face in mouth in a quick succesion of rabbit punches. Kenya Momesa walks closer, "Both of you, stop this!" Tempest puts her hand against a streetlight for extra support, placing her bag on the ground. Tempest says, "Yes, Tatyana, quit taunting the poor Obstructor and finish it." Delores Sidhe bends backwards in what could only be described as a limbo move, her lithe dancer's body bending almost double in a single movement, the fists biting nothing but open air. Not giving Tatyana the time to even register surprise at her miss, she completes the flip, both heels kicking up at Tatyana's nearby jaw, which now lies in the path of the backflip. Lance Witwicky glances at his watch again. "You'd think he'd have figured out by now..." Tatyana jerks her chin back just in time, the two feet barely missing her as she cackles softly, "Yes, I shall finish this now!" she hmhahhahahahahahahahas loudly as she has ended up near her laser pistol and grabs it, firing off a pair of blasts at the Obstructor, "Time to clear the chamber!" Tempest's eyes pass over Lance with the slight glimmer of recognition that comes from putting a real face together with a computer file. "That's our Momesa. Never learns, and usually ends up hurt because of it. Which could probably be arranged." Tatyana grrs as the mud has gummed up her pistol's works, and starts cussing vehemthley in Russian, "Frosch!" Kenya Momesa says, "That is enough!" then advances on the two fighters and tries to grab Delores. Delores Sidhe has already leapt away, rolling towards her backpack and several meters away from Kenya. Reaching into the mud-soaked pack quickly, she draws her sonic emitter rifle, snapping the weapon up to bear with practiced reflexes. "So, you want to play that way, do you?" Kenya Momesa backs up somewhat after Delores moves away. Tempest reaches down into her bag idly, rustling the paper. An insignia on the side says "Rennaissance Faire Shoppe" and has a picture of a knight on a horse. Tatyana grahs loudly as she sees the rifle come into play and growls, "Die you stupid babushka!" She leaps skywards, a faint indigo glow forming around her whole frame, her armor forming around her. Kenya Momesa looks at Ollin, "This has gone to far!" A faint rippling of violet light forms around Tatyana, forming a tight- fitting armor. Lance Witwicky blinks owlishly at Kenya. "So stop them yourself.." Chikome-Ollin shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly at Kenya. "They both are still alive, so obviously it hasn't gone far enough yet, at least for my tastes." Kenya Momesa says, "Yes, I guess there is no hope for you." Tempest chuckles to herself as she withdraws a heavy, wickedly sharp looking battle axe from the bag, dropping blue tissue to the sidewalk as she does. She smiles darkly at Kenya as she fingers the blade and gazes at him over the top. She says coolly, "I don't think that's your decision to make, Momesa." Delores Sidhe tightens her finger on the trigger, applying precisely three ounces of pressure to the sensitive mechanism. At once, she knows something is wrong, as the mud-choked electronics emit a rather unsatisfying belch. After about two tenths of a second, a high-pitched squeal erupts from the barrel, lasting only long enough to lash at Tatyana's armor before smoke begins emitting from the vent on the side of the gun. Kenya Momesa looks back at Delores, ignoring Tempest. Lance Witwicky winces sharply, touching a hand briefly to his right temple at the sharp noise. Tempest twirls the leather-wrapped handle in her hands, then nearly slices off her finger as she jumps at the unnatural sound. Kenya Momesa covers his ears. Kenya Momesa says, "Come on, Delores!" Tatyana charges down at Delores, cackling manically at Delores, ignoring the sonic waves as they disentegrate the formation of her armor before it fully completes, and ends up driving a armored toe boot at her, her laughter maddening, and mixed with her own version of tactics. Chikome-Ollin winces at the noise. "At least that sounds more melodic than her singing!" Lance Witwicky frowns in the direction of the gun, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. Delores Sidhe gives off a sharp *whuff* as nearly all of the air leaves her lungs in a violent exhalation, falling backwards and landing hard in the mud. Her rifle goes flying, the already-abused casing striking a rock and breaking in two. Suddenly hit with an idea, she fights the spotting and blurring in her vision, and reaches blindly for a sizable rock, hurling it with deadly accuracy at one of the three Tatyanas she sees. Kenya Momesa runs over to Ollin, "What is it going to take to get you to stop this?" Chikome-Ollin's eyes twinkle in amusement at Kenya. "Get down on your knees and kiss my feet, and I'll see that this is ended." Kenya Momesa says, "I think not." Tempest says dryly, "It would take an indication of danger to us or our comrade, which doesn't appear likely without some kind of divine intervention. So why don't you just shut up or leave, Momesa, before we decide to take this more personally and involve *you* in it as well." Lance Witwicky hmms, "I guess he doesn't want it ended too badly then.." Kenya Momesa looks at Tempest, "Do not try to scare me because you cannot do it." Tatyana yelps as the rock tear into her shoulder, causing her to laugh even louder, though mixed with pain as she drives forward, reaching down to pick up the rock. She curls her fingers around it. "You lost this, wench... allow me to return it." Laughing loudly as she smashes the rock down at Delores as hard as she can. Lance Witwicky scratches his jaw. "I don't think she was trying to scare you," he mumbles, mostly to himself. Tempest looks over at Ollin. "Have you heard the joke about why an obstructor is like a mosquito?" Kenya Momesa gives up with the Militants and moves back towards the fight. Chikome-Ollin's gaze seems to look through Kenya as if he was no longer there, turning to Tempest. "Haven't heard that one. Because they're annoying gnats that squish with a mere smack of your hand?" Tempest says, "They drone ceaselessly in your ear, die quickly, and though they may draw blood, their damage is never more than just a minor irritation." Chikome-Ollin laughs, nodding. "Very true." Delores Sidhe cries out with as much rage as there is pain, and staggers back, considering the source of all this. "Perhaps after all of this, you wouldn't be as feisty if you weren't sharing quarters with Ollin on a regular basis. Let's see how he likes you when you're not as attractive!" And with the last few bitten-off words, she wheels, driving the heel of one boot at the bridge Tatyana's nose. Tempest nudges Ollin with an elbow and says cheerfully, "The banshee appears to be fixated on your bed. I think she likes you, Warlord." Tatyana gets cracked, her vision bluring as her already angry sight is covered in her own red blood, her bloodlust growing deeper. She starts laughing even harder, "Stupid wench, you have no idea how many have broken my nose! I will break you like the dog you are!" she screams, and blindly drives her boot hard at Delores' planted leg, "I will train you to call me your master, wench!" Chikome-Ollin scowls over at Tempest as he's nudged. "Wishful thinking on her part, then. She will never see it, unless she's fortunate enough to end up my servant once this is over, and then merely as a housekeeper." Kenya Momesa tries once again to end the fight but pulling Delores out. Lance Witwicky smirks. "Seems Tatyana has already laid claim to her anyway..." Tatyana cackles, "Yes, hold her still for me, you idiot!" Kenya Momesa grabs onto Delores, "This is over." Delores Sidhe's leg collapses under her weight as something in her ankle gives out. Falling backwards, she falls into Kenya hard, colliding with him as he makes his way through the slippery mud. Delores Sidhe falls right through Kenya and takes him down into the mud with her, covering both of them. Tempest golf-claps politely. "What a show." Kenya Momesa goes down but keeps a grasp on Delores, not wanting to have this keep up. Tatyana cackles manically, and starts forward to finish it. Kenya Momesa says, "Come on." Craig Wallace enters from the Main Complex to the south. Craig Wallace looks over the group as he enters. Kenya Momesa is in the mud, holding onto Delores, near the EDC base. Craig Wallace looks concerned, "Kenya, you ok? Tempest watches, leaning against a lightpost, with a medieval-style axe in her hands. Delores Sidhe snarls in Kenya's grip, not really listening or even realizing who he is. All that she knows is that someone has dared to *touch* her while she is engaged in mortal combat, and that is *enough*. With reflexes that Kenya himself helped instill in her, she jabs with the heel of her free hand towards where she guesses her opponent's solar plexus is. Tatyana's mud covered body stalks towards Delores, her shirt partaily torn and pulled, and a dark, murderous look in her eyes. She is giggling manically as she storms towards Delores, ready to rend her limb from limb. Kenya Momesa pulls his head up, away from the blow, and shouts out, "Not really!" Chikome-Ollin watches from beside Tempest, an amused look on his face as he enjoys the fight. Tempest says bemusedly, "Momesa, you're between the wrong two women." Lance Witwicky skirts the edge of the fight, some distance away from Tempest and Ollin but within easy earshot. Craig Wallace walks over toward Lance, while glaring at the Militants. Kenya Momesa tries to drag Delores out of the mud, not being very successful. Tatyana cackles as Delores is held steady, and mutters a curt, "Thank you." to Kenya, as she reaches back with her fist, and grins at her, driving forward to slug her in the face. Chikome-Ollin chuckles towards Tempest. "Shhh. This could make it all the more interesting." Kenya Momesa waves an arm at Tatyana, "Stop that!" Tempest sighs, "Where are those terran fools with the news cameras when you need them?" Delores Sidhe snarls, writhing in Kenya's grip, only distantly recognizing his voice through the haze of pain and rage. What she *does* see is Tatyana approaching quickly, and in order to thwart this, she shifts, using the mud to move the person restraining her in the way of the blow. As Kenya waves at Tatyana, Delores slips out of the remaining arm and moves just in time to take the barest glancing blow on the shoulder. Tatyana cackles, "Hold her tighter, like you know you want to, so I can finish this!" Kenya Momesa says, "Delores!" You say, "Off covering some sort of sensationalism that has no real bearing on the world?" Tempest raises an eyebrow. "Two women and one man wrestling in the mud for no apparent reason isn't sensational enough?" Delores Sidhe scrambles quickly out of the way, and notices Kenya's briefcase lying nearby. Grabbing it quickly, she hurls it at Tatyana, giving forth a heroic battle cry worth of Cu Chulainn himself, ignoring the pieces of armor that fly out of the briefcase in all directions as it takes flight. Lance Witwicky offers, "I could store a few snapshots if it'd help.." Kenya Momesa climbs up to his knees and yells, "Listen to me, Delores!" Tempest looks in surprise at the armor. "How did all of that fit in a briefcase?" Chikome-Ollin grins over at Lance. "Sounds like a good idea, Witwicky. Make sure to get Kenya's good side, if he has one." Tatyana catches the empty breifcase in her hands, dumping the rest on the armor in the mud, and looks evilly at Delores. "Now, you die.." She rushes in hard, laughing and whooping evilly as she opens the case fully, and drives it forward, intent on snapping the case closed around her head. Chikome-Ollin calls out to Kenya, "The offer still stands, Momesa! It only takes one simple act to end this!" Tempest mutters to Chikome-Ollin, "... you... could... if he..." Tempest whispers "Do you really think you could stop Andropov if he surrendered?" Delores Sidhe accepts Tatyana's charge, gripping both of her wrists firmly as she brings the awkward object down over her head. Allowing herself to fall backwards in a controlled manner, she attempts to plant her foot in Tat's stomach and flip her backwards in one rolling motion. Lance Witwicky smiles serenely, tossing his rag from one hand to another as he scans the fight. Chikome-Ollin eyes the briefcase with interest. He mutters to Tempest, "... our... with subspace, they instead chose... make theirs modular." Tempest senses "Chikome-Ollin eyes the briefcase with interest. "Interesting, while we made our armor portable with subspace, they instead chose to make theirs modular."" Craig Wallace passes through the gates and goes in to the main complex of EDC Headquarters. Kenya Momesa scrambles back to his feet, barely standing up straight in the mud. Chikome-Ollin mutters to Tempest, "... Or... else, putting an... to... stop..." You whisper "I believe so. Or if nothing else, putting an end to Delores will stop her." to Tempest. Tempest chuckles darkly and turns the axe over in her hands idly. Kenya Momesa says, "Stop fighting!" Tempest mutters to Chikome-Ollin, "... an... to... peace,..." Tempest whispers "Filleting Momesa would put an end to his incessant calls for peace, too." Chikome-Ollin mutters to Tempest, "... sure?... think I... for the fight... from... the..." You whisper "Are you sure? I think I could still hear him calling for the fight to stop from beyond the grave." to Tempest. Tatyana quickly blocks the kick with the magic briefcase, tossing it away, as it lands near Lance. She watches Del's kick and drives forward, football player style, trying to punt her clear into next week, "You heard him, wench, give up while you can, and I will make your death a lot less painful. You may actually be unconscious." Tempest mutters to Chikome-Ollin, "... if... fed... your..." Tempest whispers "Perhaps if we fed his soul to one of your more unpleasant deities?" Kenya Momesa waves his hands around, trying to get at least one of the fighter's attention. Lance Witwicky casually scoops the briefcase behind him with one foot. Delores Sidhe oofs and grabs onto Tatyana's leg, letting her get in close enough to plant the blow so as to give herself a better chance. Hoping that her grip on the leg is firm enough, she twists it sharply in a direction it was not meant to go, snarling in reply, "Who said anything about consciousness and death, you little goat? I'm going to smack you so hard that the dung in your head splatters." Tempest makes a disgusted noise. "Quit making yourself such an attractive target, Momesa, or I may not be able to control myself." Kenya Momesa says, "Either help or leave me alone, Tempest." You say, "Perhaps he's trying to fly away since he's unable to end this?" Tempest smirks, then breaks out into laughter, imagining Kenya flapping his arms and flying away. Kenya Momesa stops waving his arms around. Tatyana feels the foot to start being twisted, and yanks it away, her ankle being turned enough to send a sliver of pain up her body. She falls back, landing in the mud and grass, her hand finding a rock. Growling lowly, she spits, "You only wish you could hit that hard, wench." as she chucks the rock as hard as he can at Delores. Lance Witwicky observes critically, "Unless he has rocket boosters hidden under his jacket... ah, he gave up." Tempest says dryly, "Pity." Chikome-Ollin nods. "He was almost as amusing as the fight itself. Or moreso than he is whenever he decides to open his mouth." Delores Sidhe's reactions, although dulled by the pain and rage, are still razor edged, and she proves this with her instinctive reaction to the throw. She leaps forwards, slapping the rock aside in midair, and sends a flurry of short jabs at her opponent's face. "I see your aim is improving, you bucket of fallow sheep's milk." Tatyana takes the hits quickly, bouncing off her shoulder. She growls, driving backwards and decides to take care of this in a new way, spinning around slightly as she sticks out her foot and tries to drive the hell of her boot into Delores' leg. Delores Sidhe takes the blow across the meat of her leg, not even wincing at the bruise it will likely make. Favoring the leg for only a moment while she adjusts her balance, she backs off for a moment, facing her opponent in a defensive stance. "Had..." she gasps. "...enough?" Tatyana spits on the ground, "I'm still ready to play, tovarisch. Are you ready to submit and leave?" She grins evilly, setting herself. Lance Witwicky makes a quick calculation. "You're at less than half your optimal health factor. I, err, don't think Tatyana's going to stop..." Delores Sidhe has made a fatal mistake, and the mistake is allowing herself to calm for even a minute. Narrowing her eyes at Tatyana, she growls. "I submit to nobody, you wrinkled goat. Are you ready for another lesson in mud cuisine? I hear it's rather the rage in your home country, considering it's all they can afford." Tatyana grins oh so maliciously. "Apparently, you are not quite ready to live." She reaches forward, ready to strike or counter-strike quickly. "I suggest you leave now and return ti your sheep entrails while yoiu still can, tovarisch, before you end up dead." Tatyana drives forward quickly as she sees the briefest opening, and drives her fist backwards. As she approaches the Irish vixen, she swings upwards quickly, and rocks Delores with a hard left cross, quickly coupled with a bruising uppercut, trying to finally end this and drop the firey red head in the mud. Tempest leans back against a streetpole, bracing her lower back with her hands and rubbing the circulation back into her knees. Delores Sidhe unhs as she gets rocked by the both strikes in a row, her head snapping to the left and then upwards as the blur of fists stars her vision. Staggering, she whips the hard edge of her hand around in a rigid chop to Tatyana's throat, attempting to fell the Militant and salvage a situation deteriorating as rapidly as her consciousness. Lance Witwicky mutters to himself, "... should..." You mutter to yourself, "That should about do it.." Delores Sidhe appears about to follow up on her chop to Tatyana's neck... but the adrenaline is slowly leaving her, and she collapses backwards, falling to the mud with a wet smack and staring up at the sky as she tries to quiet her spinning head. Tempest hrmphs. "A pity these Obstructors fall so easily. I thought we'd get more entertainment from this evening." Delores Sidhe slowly crawls to her knees, carefully rising to her feet, heedless of the fact that Tatyana did not fare much better. For once, reason prevails, the rage having left her mind, and she staggers quickly away from the assembled Militants. "Another time," she whispers quietly. Tempest watches the adrenaline rush begin to leave her berserk Russian commander, and quickly searches her surroundings for assistance. Lance Witwicky moves forward quickly to grab Tatyana by the arms from behind, pulling her as gently as possible away from the muddy battleground, having no desire to become the next object of her ire. Tempest points at Lance. "You. Help me get her back to the ship - she's either going to fight us to get back to the banshee, or collapse, and I don't look forward to either." Tempest heads up, ignoring the splatters of mud as Tatyana thrashes weakly, and gets a firm grip. "You're going home now, commander." Lance Witwicky shifts his grip to one of Tatyana's arms and half-drags, half-carries her from the other side. Tempest nods grimly. "Thank you for your assistance. Now let's get her back to New Aztlan to get her cleaned up - again." Lance Witwicky offers a slight smile. "At least it looks worse than it actually is. A cold shower should take care of most of this.." Tempest says, "She deserves the dip in the ocean, but I don't feel like wrestling her. Have you got a good grip?" Lance Witwicky slides his arm securely around Tatyana's back and nods. Tempest hoists her half as Tatyana finally slips into unconciousness. "Let's get her to the ship then. On three... one, two... *ungh* Three." Lance Witwicky grunts slightly, shifting the bulk of Tatyana's weight onto one shoulder. Tempest leaves to the San Fransisco Harbor to the west. You move west to the San Fransisco Harbor... San Francisco Harbor San Fransisco's pipeline to the Pacific Ocean has grown into a sprawling, cluttered hodgepodge of piers and ships. The Naval Air Station once based in San Fransisco has long since been shut down. The gleaming new EDC complex rises proudly to the east, on the small island of Alameda. Contents: Tempest, Militant Hovertransport Tempest speaks a subvocal command into the implant in her jaw, and the entrance ramp to the Leviathan slowly lowers to the ground. Lance Witwicky huffs along, used enough to carrying injured but not when they're sopping wet and covered in mud. Tempest wipes one hand across her brow, not used to the exertion on her legs, and frowns as she only succeeds in leaving a trail of mud across her forehead. Lance Witwicky almost offers the rag he'd been using, then by some miracle actually recalls that it's covered in grease. Tempest grunts and mutters to the unconscious burden, "*You* are getting some horrible duty when we get back. I mean it. I'll make you fluff pillows until you go mad." Lance Witwicky chuckles. "But it was the other one who had the obsession with beds.." Tempest smiles thinly. "Yes, but Tatyana reacts badly to any duty without blood involved." Tempest says, "And pillows tend to remind her of padded walls - something she obviously needs more of." Lance Witwicky says diplomaticaly, "Well, Sidhe DID start it.." Tempest says, "It was worth it to see that miserable Momesa rolling in the dirt like the insect he is. I have too few chances to witness displays like that." Tempest lugs Tatyana into the shuttle with a hiss of breath. Tempest climbs into Militant Hovertransport . You climb into Militant Hovertransport . Militant Hovertransport The interior consists of a huge cargo area with magnetic grapples and robotic loading arms, with a small separate cockpit capable of seating four in front. Contents: Tempest, Tatyana Lance Witwicky taps his temple with his semi-free hand. "I've got a few choice images recorded once I can get to a computer station.." Tempest's face breaks into a wicked smile. "Resourceful. I'll make sure we use them to their fullest potential." =================================== Rumors =============================== Message: 8/12 Posted Author San Francisco Enquirer article Tue Jul 08 Anonymous -------------------------------------------------------------------------- BENEFACTOR MUD-WRESTLING? A pair of only slightly-grainy pictures accompanies the article: one of Kenya Momesa, Delores Sidhe, and an slightly-blurred third party you can't quite identify lying in a tangled, struggling heap in a large patch of mud outside EDC headquarters. The other is of Kenya with his mouth open, flapping his arms frantically as though he hoped to achieve escape velocity under his own power. These photos were donated by an anonymous source early this morning, confirming the rumors of a Benefactor mud-wallow outside EDC headquarters yesterday evening. Benefactor commander Kenya Momesa was unavailable for comment, as was Reserve Officer Delores Sidhe. However, our sources revealed that the fight seemed to have started over an argument about who shared Militant Warlord Ollin's bed. . . ============================================================================