Commander's Rounds

Gaiden Entry 70.5 The Far Side of the World

On the East Coast of the Eagle Union, far away from where Alexander Cochrane and his fleet were dealing with their own problems, three dockworkers were having a seat in a bar, having had a few. All of them were at the top end of what one might reasonably describe as young, slowly edging towards the beginnings of what could be called middle age, and after having a few in them, they began to speak what was on their mind.

"You ever take a look at what's going on at that base? Pretty wild stuff."

The second one spoke up. "I've been asked to do some unloading there once in a while- you don't know half of it. I mean, it can be hard to believe that they're the ones fighting the Sirens, but once you've seen them in exercises, it becomes real easy to believe."

The third one spoke up. "Yeah, just have a look at them if you want, but just don't get fooled into thinking they're people."

The other two remained silent, for two reasons. The first is that they didn't especially agree with what their co-worker was saying, and the second is that there were very practical reasons not to say that sort of thing in this particular bar at this time of night.

"Mi Scusi."

The dockworker stood up, and found himself to find himself face to face with another of the regulars. He was a swarthy young man of some southern Sardegnan extraction, with black hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a green jacket, a black shirt, and jeans, and wore a military ID naming him as BARISI, MARCO A. He wasn't the tallest person in the world, but he was big enough that he wasn't someone a sober person would pick as an opponent by choice. In addition to his more obvious strength, he was steady and sharp on his feet- if he had been drinking, no one could tell. "I think you should take that back." It was how Marco began, and also how he ended.

The woman who was with him was dressed in dark blue office lady attire- the darkest blue that could still be recognized as blue, though her shirt was slightly , though she had a pin on her collar that was in the shape of the Iron Blood insignia. Everything that her skirt didn't cover, stockings did. She had long, blonde hair done in a single braid, and glasses for her green eyes. She had a body that demanded attention and a presence that discouraged it- she seemed at least as dangerous to approach carelessly as Marco did.

The dockworker looked at him. "What's your problem?"

Marco went on. "Just with what you said. They're hardworking ladies who do their job of keeping this place from becoming a crater, so you don't get to call them something other than people."

The other dockworkers at the table pushed their chairs back- They knew what was about to happen. "Well, you don't get to tell me what I can and can't say, so sit your ass down!"

Marco squared his shoulders. "If you're not going to take back what you've said, the only way for you to get me to sit down is to knock me down."

The dockworker had enough in him to think those were fair terms.

It was then that the dockworker learned very quickly that a non-boxer having a go at a boxer was one of the most unfair fights one could witness in the wild.

Marco dodged the swing with ease, and then two jabs and a strong hook sent his opponent backwards over the table and onto the floor behind, leaving the recipient of Marco's blows wondering why the train came early. The result wouldn't have been any different if Marco's would-be opponent was sober. Marco straightened his jacket with a smile, and then his blonde companion closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mein Gott, Marco..."

"Eh...?" Marco looked at the man who had decided that now was not a time he should be getting to his feet. He sighed. "Oh, right, happened again." Marco shrugged, and took his drink, finishing his glass while he waited to be picked up.