[quote]"Think I saw Rivers heading to the Colonel’s shack? The rest probably went to get chow before the debriefing. Maybe a nap if-” She began to answer when a commotion from the ‘Mech bays’ direction loud enough to be heard made her pause. ”Vad fan? Sound like your kind of party?"[/quote]
[hr][center][h3]Ziska[/h3][/center]
Ziska paused, leaning against Marit as she listened. Music blared, but it didn't sound like any normal sort of party. She heard grunting. She heard shouting. She heard crashing and smashing sounds. It sounded like battle. It sounded like fighting. Ziska knew the sounds well. She had fought her way across the dive bars of the Inner Sphere and Periphery. Pugilism had always been an outlet. A way to relieve the anger that she felt. The frustrations that gathered over the long, boring weeks of garrison duty. Fighting for their lives, had precious little time for R&R. And Ziska realized that she missed it.

Marit was right. It was a brawl. Exactly her sort of party. Ziska could feel her blood heating up. It was dumb, pointless even, to fight with friends and comrades. And yet, violence was often the solution, within the lance as outside of it.

Half dragging Marit, Ziska ambled forward with surprising speed, “Come on, Marit! Rivers and the Colonel can wait, we've a grand ball to attend, and we can't miss an invitation so kindly delivered.”

The scattered sea of swinging souls made identification difficult. Ziska didn't care. One enemy was as good as another. Laughing, Ziska shoved Marit gently away, ducking under a wild blow that sailed over her head from her left. Her hands rose in a flash and gone was any weariness that she had carried.

Her right hand measured the distance, darting forward and catching the bloodied astech over his cheek. He helped with pain, hurtling another desperate haymaker at Ziska. Dancing just out of range, she stepped back in and hammered her fist over his nose. Blood poured from his nose and the young man collapsed onto his knees, raising a hand fearfully, muttering something about giving up.

Ziska smiled, lightly patting him on the head, as if petting a favored dog. Engrossed in her theatrics, Ziska didn't see the bottle that crashed into her shoulder and the oil covered woman that followed.

Caught between her strong arms, Ziska sprawled, fighting to remain standing as she pulled and pushed her new foe towards the ground.

She saw another shape moving towards her and shouted to Marit, "Giggles, 2 o'clock, cover me!"