[center][b]Right Where I Belong...[/b][/center]

"You've got an hour," Ziska barked to Davids, grinning like a fiend as she stole the cup of coffee he held in his hand. From his perch sitting atop an empty ammunition crate, Davids still reached to her chest. 

"I heard," Davids coolly replied, snatching back his coffee cup before Ziska could finish all of it. Minhas sat next to him and smiled broadly at the sight of Ziska. Frequently amused by Ziska's antics, she burst into a fit of laughter witnessing Ziska's latest crime. Bowing low, as if she had completed a theatrical performance, Ziska flashed her a quick wink, deftly avoiding the kick from Davids that narrowly missed her leading foot.

"How's my girl?" Ziska cooed as she took a light step away from Davids. She nodded in the direction of her Raven, gazing with real affection at the sleek BattleMech. A game of poker, a dangerously large pot, and half a melted Jenner to soften the fresh pain of her humbled opponent later Ziska had somehow left the Capellan interior one state-of-the-art BattleMech richer.

"Good enough," Davids said. "Patched up the damage from your most recent [i]adventure[/i], ammo is [b]still[/b] low, but not much we can do about that given the circumstances. You should be good, provided you don't do anything stupid [b]again[/b]."

"Why, MechTech Davids, when was the last time that, I, the great and honorable MechWarrior Ziska did anything foolish."

The glare that Davids shot back her and his well-practiced frown, told Ziska all that she needed to know and she stifled a chuckle. She trusted Davids. He was an honest pirate, just like her. She knew he would get the job done or at least as good as it could be given the lack of time and spare parts. She trusted her Astechs. Kesi, Sunter, Kan, Licht, and Minhas. They'd do what Davids told them and then some. They were good and getting better, she only hoped they would make it. Civil wars of any scale were rarely clean affairs in her experience.

"This isn't a game, Ziska," Davids finally said, his voice a low rumble of gravel. "You need to to take this seriously. And for the love of whatever Canopian whore you worship, stop drinking the actuator oil. We're going to start running low soon enough."

"Minhas, don't let our dear friend Davids, deceive you. We have plenty of actuator oil remaining," Ziska began, shooting daggers at Davids, and then tutting loudly as she made eye contact with the young Astech. "And as for any [b]whores[/b], I will not be lectured on my intimate relationships by a man with no fewer than fourteen children scattered across the Inner Sphere. For shame, Davids."

"Ziska," Davids hissed, shifting angrily to his feet, "Enough of your jokes. Enough of your little jabs. You're drunk. You're drunk on the poison that you swallow. You're drunk on the fighting. You're drunk on all of this. Worse still, I would bet that you're enjoying every moment of this. You're a danger, you're risk, and you're out of control...again."

Minhas let out a gasp and seemed to be desperately searching for a way to escape as her two nominal supervisors bickered.

"Would you prefer it if I sat here weeping? Do you want me to apologize? Should I feel bad?" Ziska spat back, her voice full of anger. Ignoring David's towering height, she stepped closer, and jabbed a finger aggressively into the large MechTech's chest. "This is exactly the sort of game that [b]we[/b] signed up for Davids. You just won't admit it. None of you will."

Davids didn't bother to reply, turning around, and sulking away with a furious shake of his head. Satisfied with her victory, Ziska cheerfully waved goodbye to the still flustered Minhas as she strode towards her RVN-3L. She loved it already. Just like she loved every BattleMech she piloted. The BattleMechs were just like her cherished lovers, past and present. Wonderfully exciting and remarkable in more ways that she could ever hope to remember. And always, always daring her to live more dangerously.

Her chat with Ingrid had been amusing. The Duchess intrigued her. Her ideals. Her code of honor. Her insistence on carrying a sword into battle. Her obsession with dueling enemy MechWarriors. Ziska enjoyed the strange company that she kept. Mercenary life suited her. She reveled in conflict. She constantly sought out trouble. She found fights even when they were on R&R and if she couldn't find them then she created them. Peace never suited her. It left her too much time to think. Thinking too much was dangerous. It lead to questions. Questions that Ziska had no intention of ever asking, much less answering.

Times were good again, Ziska thought, bristling with new found energy. She felt good. She felt alive. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. Fighting terrible odds. Painted a villain. Worrying only about the next moment. Trying only to survive.

She could see the weariness in the faces of her comrades. She could feel the growing tension. She could sense the desperation. She could hear the raised voices and it was impossible to miss the tear streaked faces. They didn't understand. They couldn't. Not completely. Not yet. They hadn't seen the things she had. They hadn't done the things that she had done. They wouldn't. They couldn't. Not yet.

Espian Guard. Crimson Fists. Great Houses. ComStar. Even the Star League, before they had gone tits up. They were all the same. They weren't heroes. They weren't any better than she was. They were worse. Far worse. Ziska didn't leave irradiated wastelands behind her. She didn't starve entire planets. She didn't send entire generations to die to move a line a couple of millimeters on a star chart. She killed only those she had to.

But they paid well. C-bills were enough to soften any remaining pangs from her conscience. She did her best not to listen to the whisper in the back of her head. She didn't let her thoughts wander. There was only one thing to worry about. Surviving. She'd fight. She'd hold the line. She'd kill whoever she had to. But she would survive. She would survive even if it meant killing half the planet. Better them, better them than her. The dead would understand and if they didn't, well, then she'd just run away faster.

Spotting the crowd arranged around her RVN-3L, Ziska shouted in mock offense, "Hey! Raven rides are 1,000 C-Bills, for a group it's 5,000 C-Bills. Don't think there's a discount just because we are friends!"