Though he's knocked aside a little, Bayer's opponent is kept well in reach. Still standing and with his arms still clutched in close and ready, he strikes out at his attacker - throwing his body weight forward to help. He'll attempt to grab the man, not punch or kick, but to grapple onto him and hopefully, eventually, drag him down to the ground where he can be more effectively pinned.

Depending whether his opponent had dropped his head or not Craig would either try for a right hook into the aggressors temple or he would raise his knee in to the Russian's face. He was looking to end the fight as fast as possible.

Jelena decided that this was really not going well for the party against the soldiers. She knew that she'd have to try to end this. It was a good thing that's she'd brought an assault rifle to a fist fight.

Flicking the selector to single shot, she tried to get a clear shot at one of the Soviet attackers, aiming for centre mass and hoping to put him down.

Well, she never did like Russians anyway.

Jelena Tamm
Standing a short distance from the fight
AK-74 (30/30, clip #1)
Intending to shoot one of the Russians if the shot is clear

Mariusz was about to decide whose fist he'd get in the way of when he saw the Russian woman readying her rifle. He took a step toward her, his mind racing, she had shouted at the Russians to stop their attack and he assumed she was trying to help his fellows.

"Please," he called out, "don't shoot. We'll get the blame and end up dead"

"That is a very generous offer, Captain Lagunov," Griet replied, "and I would be rude not to accept. I will attend with my head of security and second in command if they are back from the shopping expedition that they are engaged on."

Anders decided to to on offensive with a kick at his opponent. The Russian soldier had managed to get a sucker punch on him, but now it was a good time to return the favour.

Jan turned and went after the leader of the Russians, the one who had swung at him rather than accepting his challenge.  He was annoyed with himself for miss timing his elbow strike so he crossed the distance quickly, spinning as he reached the vodka fuelled man and lashing out with a classic Savate fouetté bas roundhouse kick to the man's legs.  He was aiming to both hurt the Russian and knock him to the ground.

The impact of her boot sent a comforting thump reverberating up through Lizzie's thigh and into her core.  Watching the Russian prick stumble backwards from the impact had been a bonus.  Despite the opportunity to gloat, the naval officer knows that she got a lucky shot in, if an effective one.  A glance to her side shows Ana still standing and moving back to the fight having sustained a blow that must have looked worse than it was.  Instead of closing, Lizzie moves to once again try and protect her partner's flank, ready to engage should it prove necessary.

Mariusz voice, the pleading to not open fire, breaks into her focus.  His instincts are good, the read that if she fires they will all pay the price is spot on.  "Handle it," she tells the young man.  "She shoots, we all lose."  Sending a boy to do a woman's job doesn't thrill her at all, but there is a street fight going on here, and her attention is needed to the front.

When Jan breaks forward, pushing into the Russian attacking him, Lizzie moves again, this time trying to bridge the gap between the two remaining members of her squad.  Whoever needs support will get it.  If neither does, cheap shots are always an option...

Hearing the shout, Jelena lowered her rifle slightly and held off on shooting. Hopefully the Russians would get the hint.

Phillips wasn’t the only one who was waiting restlessly for the Russians to get off the tug.  In his pack, Eric’s mess kit and personal water filter couldn’t wait to be pressed into service as soon as possible.  They knew Eric must be both hungry and thirsty right now.

Despite being wrapped in a 100% wool blanket together, the mess kit and water filter were the antithesis of each other and their enmity toward one another was well known.  Like the blanket, Eric’s mess kit was a timeless piece of gear, based on the German World War Two mess kit.  Its nested containers and thick handle gave it a stern presence and its rugged construction, which carried a respectable number of scuffs and dents, marked it as a military piece of hardware.

The personal filter was the exact opposite in almost every fashion.  The filter was high-tech, relying on spun ceramic fibers to filter out micro particulates.  Where the mess kit was squat and unattractive, the filter was tall, slender, and elegant… the Eloi to the mess kit’s Morlock.  Even the names of the two items couldn’t draw any more of a distinction between them.  MESS kit…  Why didn’t they just call it filthy disgusting kit!  Whereas personal water filter was more, intimate.  Personal was in the name after all.  And to use it, you had to put it in your mouth and suck… HARD.

It was perhaps because they were so different and yet always vied for the same attention from their user, neither the mess kit, nor the personal water filter, could be happy in each other’s presence.  Somehow, like the punishment of Prometheus, they were forced each day to live in a special hell, snuggled together tightly in Phillip’s pack, to ‘prevent rattling’.  Or at least that’s what he said.  But both truly believed that they must have done something quite horrifying in a previous life to deserve such a cruel fate.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:12, Fri 26 June 2015.

Ana's breath hisses out in as much surprise as pain from the unexpected punch.  "Tits?" she gasps in complaint to Lizzie, "he punches for tits?"  She spares a moment to body-check the wheezing man out of the way before wheeling behind Tuck's attacker.  The man's still wearing his body armor so she regretfully forsakes his exposed kidneys in favor of a strike to his bicep.

Scully remains hidden away in the machine shop, continuing to pretend to use the wrench to work on a piece of machinery that isn't actually broken, casting the odd wary glance towards the door every now and then. So far no one had disturbed him, and the SEAL will be quite happy if it stays that way until the Russians have left the tug.

Jan spins and kicks out low at his opponent's (B1) legs, hoping to take them out from under him. The drunken brawler is surprisingly agile, however, and, half stepping, half jumping, manages to avoid the leg sweep. The alpha then attempts a vicious kick of his own, but, once again, Jan notes the full body wind-up and easily sidesteps it. The miss throws the attacker off balance and Jan takes the opening to punch him in the head. But, the punch misses, leaving both men breathing hard but essentially right back where they started, facing off, unbruised, and hoping to draw first blood (that's four rolled misses in a row, including back-to-back 20s!).

Craig misses with his follow up right hook, allowing his opponent (B3) a chance for revenge- a chance that he takes, socking Craig in the mouth, momentarily filling it with the warm, coppery taste of blood. (Craig suffers superficial facial damage: slight wound to head).)

Still reeling from the hard punch he'd just caught with his forearm, Tucker doesn't see the next punch coming. His opponent's (B6) follow up strike lands against the American's ribs like a brickbat, sending brief but intense shockwaves of agony through his torso and knocking the wind out of him. Overwhelmed by pain, Tucker's legs give out and he falls to the cobbles, completely vulnerable to follow-up attacks. (Tucker suffers temporary damage to left ribcage.)

Ana body checks the man who'd just punched her (B2), knocking him down, on her way to help Tucker. Tucker's already on the ground. His attacker (B6), driven by blood lust, is leaning over Tuck's crumpled form, starting to rain down punches on his downed opponent. From behind, Ana strikes at the man's cocked arm, trying to hit a tendon or nerve, but instead misses altogether. Fortunately for her, but not so fortunately for Tucker, the man is fixated on pummeling the target on the ground, so much so that he doesn't Ana's attack (or her proximity at all, it seems).

Lizzie moves with Ana to cover her flank. Another Russian (B5), who's hung back out of the fight until now, is stepping into the fray, moving purposefully towards Ana, who's back is currently to him. Easy prey, he must be thinking. Lizzie kicks at his lower body as soon as he passes into range, striking him hard behind the knee, and forcing him to fall to his hands and knees just behind Ana. As soon as he hits the cobbles, he's working to get back to his feet.

Anders has even more luck with his kick. It lands squarely against the man's (B4) patella, hyperextending it. Anders can feel it give. Hopped up on adrenaline (and, quite likely, bathtub vodka), the Russian doesn't seem to feel it- that is, until he takes another step, shifting his weight to that leg. His damaged knee buckles and he falls to the ground with a brief but surprisingly shill scream.

Konrad forgoes striking in attempt to take his opponent (B7) to the ground. Before the man can turn around, Konrad wraps both arms around him, pinning the man's arms to his body, and drives forward with his legs. Without being able to use his arms for balance, the Russian can't keep himself standing, and he falls to the cold, hard ground with the German on top of him.

The melee is too dynamic, moving too quickly, for Jelena to target any of her fellow Red Army soldiers without endangering their opponents. Perhaps there will be an opening, but everything is moving so quickly, and one of the pseudo-civilians has asked her not to fire.

Mariusz, well aware of his lack of street fighting prowess, hangs back on the edge of the brawl.

On the far side of the furball, nearest the docks, the eighth Russian, the youngest and smallest of the bunch, stands guard by his squadmates' rifles, cheering his comrades on.

Tactical Summary
B1: Currently engaged with Jan; unscathed
B2: Unengaged; temporarily down (wind knocked out of him)
B3: Engaged with Craig; minor damage to head
B4: Engaged with Anders; disabled (hyperextended left knee w/ probable ligament/tendon damage)
B5: Near Ana & Lizzie; temporarily down due to leg strike
B6: Engaged with Tucker, beating him up on the ground
B7: Engaged with Konrad; currently grappled in the bottom position
B8: Unengaged; guarding his comrades' rifles 

---

Having arranged a meeting between the "merchants" and his commanding general, Major Lagunov takes his leave of the tug, bodyguards in tow. While he was on the bridge, a second UAZ arrived quayside, this one packed with six fully kitted-out Red Army soldiers. They currently form a loose cordon on the tug's landward side, for the most part facing the city. It appears that they are present to guard the tug from the rest of the 43rd Cavalry Division, not the other way around.

Before leaving, Major Lagunov informs Griet that he will send a vehicle to chauffer the tug's representatives* to the lunch meeting at 1200 hours.

*By now, it is clear that the leadership of the 43rd CD doesn't really care that there are Americans and other ex-NATO military types on board. The rank-and-file, on the other hand...

OOC: Anyway, it's set up so that whoever wants to go can go, and whoever wants to stay (or isn't posting) can stay.


Your Move.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Sat 27 June 2015.

In reply to Cap'n Rae (msg # 211):


Tucker has seen the situation go from bad to worse for him.  He now finds himself covered up on the ground but looks for one of the Russians knees or ankles to disable one of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:47, Sun 28 June 2015.

Craig returns the Russians punch in kind, trying not to get too technical. If he has an opening for a kick to the mans crouch area he will feign a punch and take the kick.

"Mule kick! Mule kick!" Lizzie calls to Ana. Two kicks from the naval officer, two delivered.  I'm on a roll!  Not to be cocky...false confidence kills.  They still need to handle this guy between them and they still need to pull the threat off of Tucker before their new friend is beaten more bloody.  Some of these Ruskies need to go down and stay down.

Instead of opting out, Lizzie adds her own kick at the scrambling soldier, hopefully they can tip this particular threat out of the fight once and for all.  Then deal with the others, because the first guy she kicked isn't going to be down for much longer.

Anders, spotting Tuck in a tight spot, goes for a flying tackle and does his best to get the Russian off the American Sergeant.

Still focused on the man pummeling Tuck to the ground, Ana completely misses Lizzie's intervention - but her partner's urgent warning draws an immediate response.  Turning slightly to bring Lizzie into her peripheral vision, she lashes out with a kick behind her (B5).  As she refocuses on Tuck's opponent, she sees the Finnish cruise missile launch and checks her attack for a moment, ready to lock up the Russian's arm (B6) if Anders misses.

Jelena could only watch... it was a complete and utter brawl. It was frankly best that she played no part in it whatsoever.

Once Griet waved the Soviet officer away she sought out the crew and brought them up to date.

"Someone needs to et the teams know they need to be back for midday ad I'll ask the harbour master if he knows the General's favourite café in case we want to stake it out." she explained.

"Mr Scully, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the harbour master, please?"

Once Scully had answered, Griet headed for the harbour master, "Thanks for trying to run interference for us," she said to him, "as it is, we have a meeting with the General in his favourite café. He's sending a cafe for us but I'd like to know where it is before that. You wouldn't know where it is would you?"

Mariusz was relieved when someone tried to bail Tuck out, he had been getting ready to wade in and try and give the American time to recover by getting his own ass kicked instead. Anders had taken the job for him though.

HE sidled up to the new Russian and smiled, "Hi, my name's Mariusz, thanks for trying to help."

Scully doesn't even attempt to hide the look of disbelief on his face when Niewiadomska has finished explaining the purpose behind the Soviet officer's visit. "Let me make sure I've got this straight" the tall American asks "A Soviet General wants to hire us?" He shakes his head. "You do realize that I'm not a mercenary, I'm a United States Navy SEAL, yes? I don't fight for the Russians." He's clearly about to say more, stops, perhaps thinking better of it. "Unfuckingbelievable." he mutters, before turning his attention to the rest of what she had said.

"OK, I've got radio comms with my people, you do have comms with yours, yeah? So getting them back in time should be straightforward. As for the cafe, you're damn right I want to stake it out. I don't want my people going to a meeting with a group of Russians without putting some sort of security in place. Phillips and I will do it." He nods to the Green Beret. "That work for you Forrest?"

He then turns back to  Niewiadomska. "OK, let's go find the harbor master. Once we've spoken to him we can radio the shore parties. We might have better intel on the cafe, so no sense in radiong them now and only giving them half a plan." Accompanying her to meet the harbor master, Scully listens as the two Poles converse in their own language. When there's a break in the conversation he turns to the tall woman. "Try and find out what you can about the general area. Not just where it is, but if there are any buildings that overlook it, anywhere we can keep eyes on what's happening inside. What sort of security does the General have? Are there other customers there or do they toss everyone else out while he's there? What's the clientele? Is it classy, are two dock workers having a beer going to look out of place?"

"Also, I'm not keen on walking about a town full of Ivans without any weapons. If there is absolutely no option I will, but ask him if there is any way he can 'arrange' for us to be armed. Papers that say we're taking guns to sell them at the market, that sort of thing.  I don't mind them being unloaded. Tell him I understand that if it's possible there will be a fee to pay." He pauses whilst Niewiadomska handles the translations. The worst that could happen was that the harbor master said no.

Griet sighed, the mom and apple pie speech was getting old fast, "That's why I arranged for your commander to be in on the meeting. If she doesn't like the deal she can walk away. The emphasis of course will be on the word walk."

"As for working for Russians, some are bastards an some just want to get home. the last lot we worked with wanted to go home and the lot before that spilt blood for the CIA to free Warsaw. Of course, others have tried to kill us, but in my experience it's the same with Americans. You do what you think is right but don't get in my way of keeping my people alive, that would be regrettable."

She listened to the rest of his observations and nodded before continuing with her conversation with the harbour master, "We have several weapons we need to trade if we are to maximise our profits her. Would it be possible for you to write us up a permit that tells people we are carrying unloaded weapons for trade purposes?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:43, Mon 29 June 2015.

"Sure, why not," Phillips said, regarding scoping out the meet and greet.

Phillips thought about it and realized that he'd never been hired by a Communist before.  He imagined a Soviet officer handing over a briefcase full of red script, only to have another Soviet officer come and take at least half and redistribute it to a bunch of lazy, shiftless, peasants.

From each according to his ability, to each according to his need…  Or was that Socialism?  Maybe Marxism?  He had a class on this in college, but couldn't remember much.  Too many hits the previous day at practice.

Fuck it.  It didn’t matter.  It was all wrong.  Godless heathens and their bullshit socio-economic models.

"Perhaps we'll see a talking dog on the way there or something,"  Eric said, trying to think of how this could get any weirder.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Mon 29 June 2015.

Jan continued engaging his chosen opponent, rather annoyed and embarased with himself for failing to even connect with a single blow on the man.  He stopped trying to land a roundhouse kick and instead tried a combination of quick kicks, once again targeting the man's legs in an attempt to put him on the ground.  Once down it would be easier to continue kicking him.