Day 004: Girls of War
Summary: Two of the Delinquents have a tiff, which is eventually broken up by cheering onlookers.
Date: 4 May 2016
Related: None directly.
Cassandra Ruth Lip Martin Frankie 


With the removal of underbrush and a half-dozen small trees, there is now a tiny clearing around the dropship. It has begun to fill with detritus from the ship, including all of the seating, padding, and removable plates or bulkheads. Several tents have been set up within the clearing, set close together within the confines of the surrounding trees. There are no defenses to speak of, save for the usually-open door to the dropship and the ship's metal walls.

The forest immediately surrounding the camp has been cowed into near-silence, but is still vibrant and green to a people used to stark metal bulkheads all around them.

4 Days After Landing

Cassandra would find Ruth trying to jury rig a handbag of sorts using spare parachute from her place seated in the shade of the dropship. Her fingers work deftly, despite the lack of light, and no one with any sense has bothered her in the past hour or two that she's been here.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Stealth: Success.
<FS3> Ruth rolls Alertness: Good Success.

In the early AM hours, there isn't much to see. The sun hasn't even risen yet, and most of the Delinquents are asleep, some by the embers of their campfires (for they know not yet of the dangers that Earth harbours), but most under makeshift shelters or huddled inside the Dropship. Cassandra is not among these, and neither, it seems, is Ruth. Which is why the kleptomaniac might find it strange, or perhaps sense a kindred spirit on the move, when she spots the lanky, notoriously untrustworthy brunette pacing in the dead of night, blending into the darkness as her synthetic woollen boots cover the outer fringes of camp between the Dropship and the forest. Despite her stealth, three things notably give her away: the flap of her long hair past her shoulders, the gleam of her eyes, and the sloshing of water within the stolen canister she's making off with.

Ruth is no seamstress; nor is she likely accustomed to making her own things rather than taking them from others. She stares down at her new makeshift handbag with a bleak frown before her eyes drift up and towards the nearest fire with a contemplative tilt of her head, as though considering tucking in to steal a few more hours of sleep. It would likely be then that she notices Cass, her eyes blinking twice rapidly as though to assure herself that the girl is not a lamprey that somehow managed to follow them several kilometers to camp over land. In any case, she doesn't immediately voice greeting or incriminating comment. "What are you doing?" she finally whispers once the other girl is within proper earshot for lowered voice.

Cassandra comes to a stop. Well, there's Ruth… and there's the canister in her hands, plain as unbroken day. Her eyes drift from the better-renowned thief's to her loot as she leans to one side, jutting her somewhat lacking hip. "Hey Ruth," she whispers in reply, carefully setting down the water at her feet before meeting her gaze anew. "Fiona suggested it'd be best if we kept some of these in reserve. Camp full of criminals, we don't want people sneaking more than their share or wasting it. I told her about the attack and she said, well, we don't want to have to go there too often. I'm not really supposed to tell you either, though. How come you aren't asleep?" The lie is delivered crisp and cool, without a trace of guilt or pause. The teenager has a gift, that's for sure, although perhaps not one to be proud of. When she follows it with a question, it's an almost accusatory tone, shifting the interrogation back on her late-night interrogator.

Ruth doesn't appear too concerned, her lackadaisical sprawl against the dropship shifting only slightly to accommodate the bag she's made so she can properly set it aside. It's all parachute cloth, tied off with ripped ends and carefully pierced holes. It wouldn't carry anything heavy, that's for certain. She doesn't make attempt to interrupt Cassandra's bloated explanation, but her brows do rise with ill-concealed contempt. "Sure you are," she responds with cool brevity, and one hand wandering to pick on a scab on her right elbow. "What makes you more trustworthy than the other 'criminals'?" The question is posed in an interrogative lilt that holds more disregard than anything approaching heat.

Cassandra purses her lips, watching Ruth for a long stretch of silence. "I didn't do it," she says. Of course she didn't. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like everyone else who ever made it to the Skybox, or maybe it was self-defence, or some other deflective bullshit. Her tone is severe, however, and her dark eyes fill with contempt to match the klepto's. For her? For herself? Impossible to tell.

"Do you think anyone really cares anymore?" Ruth gives a dismissive wave to the rest of the sleeping camp, a small grunt voiced when she finally sits up properly. "What you've done?" She gives the other girl a long, likely uncomfortable once-over. "I don't. Just stay out of my way." Her mouth presses into an imitation smile. "And stay out of my water."

"I get it, you don't like me," says Cassandra, playing the injustice card. She looks at Ruth with pity, shifting tactics with ease and a tilt of her chin as she looks down on her, literally. "Maybe because your mother liked having me around more than she liked having you in Go-Sci, but I thought you'd have gotten over that by now. We've both changed. And from what I've heard, so did she." Her movements now confident instead of stealthy, she leans back down to pick up her stolen water canister, intending not to look like there should be anything suspicious about it.

"Ugh," Ruth voices under her breath, her mouth twisting bitterly as Cassandra takes it upon herself to keep talking. She appears more annoyed than anything else, her fingertips grazing at her brow to clear hair from her line of sight. She remains seated on the ground against the dropship, giving her conversation partner the height advantage. She doesn't see fit to rise, even now. "You're not even worth my time. That was, what, when we were six? Seven?"

Cassandra looks up towards the sky as the blue clouds turn to light gold and pink, though without a set time to be awake and the hum of party still in their bones, many of the delinquents around camp remain asleep. Still, her time is wearing thin, and the wooden object in her hands — in truth, little more than a dead tree's thin, hollow trunk fastened with thick green leaves — starts to wear on her fingers and sees her shoulders slouch. "Maybe some day you'll get over it," she says. "And that day you might actually find in me a friend." She turns her back to Ruth now, pausing only a moment before stepping away.

Ruth keeps her gaze affixed to Cassandra's back, her hair swept behind her shoulders with both hands. "Get over what?" she challenges, a yawn cutting through her words and seeing her slouch once more becoming pronounced against the dropship. "You're the one trying to start something." She sweeps her fingers outward in a universal 'go away' motion before her eyes resume their sleepless stare, the new parachute bag its object. "I'm busy."

The sound of a huff is all that Ruth gets before Cassandra does indeed go away, retreating through the trees with her haul in hand.

At least thirty minutes go by before Cassandra returns (although who's tracking, down here), empty handed. She passes by where Ruth was last seen stitching up her parachute, sending a glance down towards her on her way to the Dropship.

"Got your water all settled, then?" Ruth questions snidely from her place on the ground. She's half-asleep, resting her head on the handbag. It's filled with an orange-lined grey jacket, making it a rather suitable pillow. "Bet I could find it."

"Float yourself, Ruth," Cassie creatively retorts, seeming to barely register her on her way into the Dropship. Her hand finds the fallen gate, gripping it to haul herself in, before she turns on her heel and back to face her. A frown now mars her features. "You know, I never got it," she says. "What was even your excuse? You had everything. Why'd you steal?"

Cassie's question earns a sharp turn of Ruth's head, effectively waking her from her complacent slumber. "You don't know anything," she retorts with a pseudo-glare, mostly dampened by the early morning warmth. Sure does feel nice. "What's your excuse, then? You have two hands. Why can't you just handle your libido yourself?"

Ruth's comeback succeeds in the impossible — it turns poor Cassie slack-jawed. Of course, the disreputable woman has heard it all before, but it's surely never pleasant to hear it again. When her mouth ceases to be agog, her lips turn to contempt. "Jealous much," she replies. "Some of us don't have to."

"Some of us have some class," Ruth fires back in short order as she turns from her side onto her back, staring up at the sky as if it has caused her some grave offense. Then again, it has; one of the things in the sky has, anyway. "And don't think about that kind of stuff all the time. Go away. Martin went in there earlier." Her face twists with scorn, an unattractive expression with all certainty. "Pretty sure he's your next victim, right?"

The colour rises in Cassandra 'Boner' Bonheur's cheeks as Ruth goads her on, fists clenching at her sides. Her words obviously make her angry, for all of her notorious lack of apology for her behaviour. "Why, have you been keeping an eye on him?" she asks. "Seems like the only person 'thinking about that stuff all the time' is you. Or maybe you have a crush on me. Is that it? We could throw down right here, get this sexual tension out of the way. And then you don't have to feel like the only person I wouldn't fuck."

This is what eventually has Ruth rising to her feet with a hand braced against the side of the dropship, her other curling into a fist that might be threatening to a small animal (but little else). "Float yourself, Boner," she demands of Cassandra, her nose wrinkling with avid distaste. "Not everyone here is lusting after your nasty self. Classic of you, to immediately jump to that conclusion." She takes a purposeful step closer to the shorter woman, not bothering to stoop to eye level. She seems to enjoy this height discrepancy a bit overmuch. "Get out of my face."

Well… that does it. What a mistake. Cassandra looks Ruth in the eye, glaring, sizing her up, surely deciding that this would be a stupid thing to do, but she does it anyway. Two hands rise up, palms flat, to press into the taller, brawnier teen's upper chest and shove her forcefully back against the Dropship, hard. As hard as this skinny bitch can muster with the force of anger behind her, anyway.

Ruth hits the dropship with a clang of girl on metal, obviously not having expected this from the twig she'd been threatening not moments prior. Her eyes widen with outrage, nose flaring. "You really want to do this?" she demands in her raised alto, likely causing a few sleepy stragglers to stir about their dwindling campfires. She pays them no mind, surging forward with a press of her foot against the ship to slam her elbow into Cassandra's sternum. "Are you stupid?!"

Ruth's limb slams into Cassandra's upper body, which knocks her back an inch or two before she straightens up, fists at the ready. Her pose is terrible — elbows pointing outwards, hands balled near her neck in a manner that would barely offer her any protection, but Cass is no guard. She gives her fellow inmate a steely look as she readies to fight, cock-sure in voice. "Come on, afraid to get hurt?" she challenges. One of those fists draws back and out… and it's a wide miss, pushing her weight forward without even finding its mark on the blue-eyed girl's jaw.

<FS3> Ruth rolls Brawn+Brawn: Good Success.
<FS3> Ruth rolls Finesse+Finesse: Success.

Though no guard herself, it's apparently not too difficult for Ruth to discover that Cassandra's punch will go wide. With grit teeth and eyes so narrowed they might as well be shut, she grabs hold of Cassandra's arm with a white-knuckled grip, tugs her closer, and delivers a steady-armed backhand with her free hand to the shorter woman's jawline.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Brawn+brawn: Success.
<FS3> Cassandra rolls Finesse+finesse: Good Success.

Whistling. Why is there always whistling when Lip is coming in. He must've been in the woods or something, but not too far, because he seems to be pleasant enough in mood. His hands are in the pockets of his jumpsuit and he just barely pays attention to whatever is going down not far from him. Too busy paying attention to his favorite person: Himself.

By now the sun is up in full bloom, with only a few streaks of pink still visible in the clouds above the treeline. The whispers and dark of night that previously lent Ruth and Cassandra's conversation some privacy is now gone, and nearby teens both just inside the dropship and around it are waking up to the sound of people being slammed into the big metal thing they came down in. The cause is clear as two lanky, incensed Delinquents grip and spin each other around, not an unfamiliar sight in the Skybox (where clamours of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' would often rise up in response), but at least moderately new down here on Earth. They're only a few swings in when Cass gets struck right in the face and loses her balance, only to reach up and grab Mercer's long hair to try and drag her with her down into the ground.

Martin exits the Dropship with Frankie as they hear some commotion. Seeing what is going on, he decides to just stay back and watch for now.

A scream leaves Ruth when she's unexpectedly grasped by the hair, fists flailing against any part of Cassandra she can reach now without rhyme or reason in the wake of this particular pain. "Get off me, you whore!" she shrieks at Cassandra with an indignant clutch of her hand at the roots of her own hair. This might somewhat keep the other girl from inflicting too much damage, but Ruth's deeply flushed face suggests that it does little to help her situation. She doesn't even appear to notice the gathering crowd, too focused on attempting to twist out of Cassandra's grip with a swing of her fist into the fleshy part of her side.

<FS3> Lip rolls Persuasion: Good Success.

Lip's eyes go as wide as flying saucers as he catches sight of the commotion that's actually more of a rumble than mere commotion! For some reason his mouth curls up into a huge grin as he sees what is going on. He looks up to the sky. "Thank you, Zod." Lip takes off in a quick hop-step to get himself in a closer position. Random Delinquents get shoved out of the way as he skids to a halt at the edge of The Fight. "Whoa whoa whoa! Ladies! Stop! You gotta' stop! As sexy as this is, and believe me it is as sexy as fuck, but you gotta' stop! If people find out I let you two kill each other? Then I'm screwed. And if I'm screwed, then we're all screwed. And not in the fun way!" What is he even talking about? "THINK OF THE CHILDREN!" Distractionary Tactic #45 Initiated.

With Martin's assistance, the injured Frankie makes out of the entrance of the dropship without too much trouble. The teen had heard the commotion but wasn't quite expecting a brawl. "A three day bender can't happen soon enough," she says mostly to herself, as the two girls pummel each other and Lip jumps into the middle of it with spectacular foolhardy fashion. "And there is the one with the death wish." She leans in the large hatchway. There is no way she is getting into the middle of that, even if she wasn't injured.

For all of Cassie's aggression — she probably started it — she seems to be the one taking the biggest punishment here, while Ruth mostly takes hits to her pride in the form of having her hair pulled and body slammed against the Dropship. Another bruise colours the side of her waist, the same side that now sees a red handprint on her jaw, but all she herself sees is fiery anger. "You want sexy?!" she exclaims, staggering from Ruth by force. "Join in! Everyone join in! We'll have a big…" She turns — what on earth is she doing? She most definitely does not know how to fight — and throws herself at Ruth's throat, as if trying to choke her with sheer force of bodily impact and flying elbows, content to do any kind of physical harm without any tactical consideration or forethought. "Sexy orgy! Everyone can take turns! Is that what you want?" For her part, despite being an indignant blowhard, it doesn't actually sound like what she wants.

<FS3> Ruth rolls Brawn+Brawn: Failure.
<FS3> Cassandra rolls Brawn+brawn: Success.

Martin blinks at Frabkie's assessment, then gives his succinct opinion on a bender, "Aye." At the mention of one of them having a death wish, he eyes both fighting women before taking his guess at which Frankie means. "Cass, right?" Hey, there is a mention of an orgy! Why is Lip trying to stop that? That doesn't sound like Lip at all.

It's true. Ruth is taller, more fit, but generally more coordinated in her approach. This just means, though, that Cassandra manages to take her by surprise, yet again. It's not clear whether it's due to the suggestion of an orgy or the dive at her throat, but she doesn't really have the moment to clarify, bared teeth serving well to speak for her. Lip snatches her attention briefly enough that, if only for that moment, the shorter woman gains the upper hand, and it's due to this that Ruth is forced to resort to more hasty matters. Taking a leaf out of Cassandra's book, she makes a grab at hair, but can do little to free herself from the other woman's grip this way. "See!" she cries out in a choked voice, spittle spotting Cassandra's livid features. "It's all you think about! Too bad there aren't any more old men for you to have a field day with, unless you want to propel yourself back to the Ark with the— the fuel of all your BULLSHIT!"

"Alright! That's it! I've had all I can stands and I can't stands no more!" Lip takes a moment to run his hands through his hair. From there his movement is swift as he rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit. He takes a glance around at those that are gathered, spotting Martin and giving a quick wink and a smile, before he turns back towards the brawling beauties. "COWARDBUNGLA!" With his horribly wrong and ancient pop culture reference released from his lips, Lip takes two quick steps and DIVES towards the duelling dames with all the flailing arms of someone who knows even less about fighting than these two. Instead, he's going for the Tackle.

<FS3> Lip rolls Brawn+brawn: Success.

"Lip," she corrects, her eyes not leaving the sight of the two girls trying the murderize each other. Oh my. Sexy orgy talk is enough to make Frankie's pale complexion turn crimson and for a moment she averts her eyes from the fisticuffs of the two girls. Lip's shouting obscure one-liners though is enough to bring her attention right back to the fight. "Though could be all three."

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Brawn+brawn: Failure.

The venomous Cassandra is unlikely to be separated from Ruth with nice words, but apparently Lip landing on top of her does the trick. And ouch, that's got to hurt, with her hair now pinned both in her opponent's fist and under the well-intentioned peacemaker. She scrunches up her eyes and tries to turn her wrath on him now, fists flying, but at best she succeeds in making an even bigger fool of herself. She might not know when to quit, but she knows when she's physically incapacitated, or at least her body does, and she doesn't try to stand back up. Ruth, for once, receives no witty retort to her jeers.

"Lip, I don't think this is what they mean by 'threesome,'" Martin offers in a dry manner. "I'm going to have to save his backside, aren't I?" he asks of Frankie. No, he has no faith that Lip can fend off two girls.

<FS3> Ruth rolls Finesse+Finesse: Great Success.

With all the grace of one who does not want to get tackled at any point within the next four and a half seconds, Ruth gets the hell out of dodge (that is, to say, Lip's uncoordinated tackle) and manages to actually place her hands along Cassandra's back in a shove meant to propel her into the new contender at the same time. She has the opportunity to catch her breath, hands on her knees, as Cassandra goes buck-wild at the well-intentioned Lip.

There is a pained laugh at the comment from Martin. "From himself," she tells him. "Always from himself." She winces as Lip gets pushed and shoved about as he throws himself into the fray. "Is this one of those times where that whole enemy of my enemy comes into play?" Meaning Ruth and Cass deciding to work together to pound the tar out of Lip.

"Oh My Zod! I think I feel a boob!" Lip is somewhere in the middle of bliss and fear as he flails around wildly and perhaps attempts to cop a feel in the middle of the battle that he seems to have broken up. Or at least he's managed to separate the girls of war. "I mean, uh, stop! We mustn't fight! We must stick together! Let our crimes unite us! And any other sentimental bullshit that'll actually work! Ow!" Yeah, fighting? Not his strong suit.

There is a pained laugh at the comment from Martin. "From himself," Frankie tells him, "Always from himself." she winces as Lip gets pushed and shoved about as he throws himself into the fray "Is this one of those times where that whole enemy of my enemy comes into play?" meaning Ruth and Cass deciding to work together to pound the tar out of Lip.

Though Cassandra is thrust at her new target, who even has the audacity to grope around, her beef appears to be with Ruth, not with Lip. That aside, she's quite unquestionably gotten her arse squarely kicked, and after failing to exact some swift retribution upon him with her flailing fists, she starts to give up and calm the hell down. She catches her breath, even as her bruises smart and blood pumps in her ears, then closes her eyes and pretty much waits for it to be over.

Ruth is extracted from the fight after that last push, a sheen of sweat upon her brow. After wiping it with the side of her hand, she straightens with a pained grunt, her hand drifting to her tender scalp. "Stay away from me," she warns Cassandra, her voice ringing despite undertones of exhaustion. "You hear me?"

Lip may hold onto Cassandra a little too long. That just happens. Eventually, he realizes it and jumps back with his hands up. "Hey! Hey, that doesn't include me, right? We're cool, right?!" Lip tosses those words after Ruth before he turns to look at Cassandra with the quickness. "I totally had your back. Don't even." It is then that Lip realizes he forgot to whisper. "… Shit. Both of your backs! Both… I …" Lip sighs and just goes for the best equalizer he can think of right now. "Is anybody else like super hungry? Huh?! Hands up if you could eat a horse right now! Am I right?" Lip's hand goes up in the air!

In refrain of a statement that started this whole debacle, a winded Cassie manages to retort, "Float yourself, Mercer." At least she's subdued. The pain is visible on her features, which contort with discomfort every time she tries to move, lip curling into a sneer. But she tries to make it seem like she doesn't care, as if this were an ordinary picnic that's now come to a close. "Touch me again and I'll break your neck." This deadpan statement is directed at poor Lip, the peace diplomat. She cracks open an eye and raises her brow at him, letting him know that she's… well, it's hard to tell if she's serious or not, but hopefully not. And eventually, looking around at her surroundings to let the daze fade, she starts to pull herself up into a sitting position. Wary of being knocked right back down, she does wait for a second or two in hopes of evading another opportunistic thump on Ruth's behalf.

Frankie isn't the hardened criminal like some of the delinquents in the Skybox were. She got busted for illegal hooch not anything violent. So of course she feels kinda bad for the position Lip has put himself in, so her hand goes up. "And the horse that one rode in on." She has one-liners too, see she's helping.

A bleak-featured Ruth makes no move to further incapacitate Cassandra. Instead, she leans down to grab her makeshift parachute bag, slinging it over her shoulder with a grunt. "I'm taking a walk," she clips out, hair tugged at the nape of her neck into a ponytail with a spare tie. "Try not to whore yourself out while I'm gone," she mutters under her breath, the words like as not missed by any not within direct proximity.

Lip looks around and once he's sure that nobody is going to attack him. "Wait, Ruth! Don't leave angry! Come on! We can hash this out, can't we? I mean, let's just take a second, breathe, have sex with me and we can put this whole nasty episode behind us." Lip flashes a grin. "Who's with me? I know you're with me." Lip takes a second to wink and fingergun at Frankie, before his attention goes back between Cassandra and Ruth. "I promise I'll be gentle." Why. Why is he allowed to talk. WHY.

Martin looks to Frankie as she gets fingershot. "Don't encourage him. Or do, because it's hilarious."

Cassandra can't say why, so the answer she provides Lip with is a roll of her eyes. At least she doesn't try and start another fight, which has as much to do with her exertion as it does to do with how stiffly she's pulling herself up to her feet. Checking the placement of her souvenirs, she raises a hand to the side of her face where Ruth backhanded her and just stares at the culprit, eyes narrowed. When she turns around to face Martin and Frankie, the former gets a wide, bewildered stare before she attempts to sidestep him into the Dropship. And sure, half the camp has seen her getting schooled by Ruth, but it doesn't stop her curling her fists at her side and holding her back straight to march proudly back to shelter.

"No, thanks," Ruth wryly intones at Lip's offer. Some of the bitterness in her expression does ease up at his boisterous behavior, admittedly, and she gives a hapless shrug of her shoulders. "I really just want to walk it off. Find something real to eat that doesn't start with ration and end with bars."

There is another pained chuckle from Frankie at both Lip and Martin. "Encouraging him to bother other people keeps him from bothering us," she sorta whispers to Martin. "Guess the show is over." She watches as Cass walks past them onto the ship. "Guess you are stuck with your other girlfriend for another evening Lip," she tells the teen when Ruth shoots him down and stalks away.

"Okay! But if you want, I can touch your boob too! I mean, it's only fair, right! That'll make you two even!" Lip doesn't know if he actually did a good thing or even did anything. What he does know is that there is no more fighting going on and that's all that matters. He's not the biggest fan of violence. "… You know what? That's it. I refuse to let this ever happen again. I refuse to just stand by and watch beautiful girls try to tear each other limb from limb. I just can't do that… without digging a mud pit." Lip grins nice and wide. "Anybody got a shovel?" Lip just gives a sneer in Frankie's direction but he can take it and dish it out.

Cassandra disappears into the Dropship, but with Lip's encouragement, her cajoling can still be heard from within as she stalks off. "Oh, please someone touch Mercer's boob," she decries over the sound of her footsteps echoing on metal. "And she can stop being such a jealous bitch."

Ruth gestures rudely at the dropship as she reaches the line of trees, her pace quickening considerably in the general direction of away.

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