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Post by Macbeth Stewart on Oct 19, 2012 17:08:55 GMT -5
Fourth Bell of the First Dog Watch (1800 hours)
Macbeth paced the imaginary floorboards of the Old Vic, the audience barely visible underneath the darkness which had sunk over them, and there in centre stage he stood hunched as the villain who cloaked himself in odd ‘ends stolen from holy writ; and there in the empty bunk-room, to the inhalation of the imaginary crowd he began, his voice loud and proud but hiding a bitter cutting evil edge!
“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York; and all the clouds, that lour'd upon our house, in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; our bruised arms hung up for monuments; our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, our dreadful marches to delightful measures…”
The monologue continued unabated, for not a soul in the audience dared murmur at such a perfect delivery – this was helped by the fact that there was in fact no audience. Macbeth was more alive than ever when he read a play; few would believe that the man swept into emotions by the tiniest word from a play could be the self-same ‘God-damn’ Mac. Mac the Corporal was stern to his men but fiercely protective, he embodied that old-world image of an officer – even an NCO – as being a father to their men. As Clarence and Brakenbury enter Mac stopped his recital and leaning against a bunk read silently except for a tune he always hummed. It was a little ditty which the men in his old unit had had a pool on betting what it was, for whenever asked Mac’s eyebrows would dance like caterpillars and with brown eyes mischievously alive just shook his head.
Mac contemplated heading to the mess, after all it was well into the First Dog Watch, but instead just slid down the side the bunk and seated himself on its euphemistically named “mattress” – in truth it was barely a sheet covering springs he thought with a chuckle. Seated and shoulders hunched, Mac undid the first few buttons of his jacket as he settled in to read. Dinner can wait, he thought excitedly as he turned the page, at least till the next act.
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Oct 19, 2012 18:19:04 GMT -5
Finally he had been released from the sickbay after they had done what they could to fix his broken arm, and he was glad it wasn't as bad as he had heard it was with some of the other people in the platoon, he was glad that he had just taken a light hit to the head and the helm had taken the most damage of cause the person in the armoury had been far from happy to get broken equipment but he was glad it had made him survive and the radio had still worked.
He walked tiredly into the infantry berth still chewing on his cigarette not having lit it yet he was a bit surprised to see someone new in there although it was obvious they needed a few replacements, he seemed like a rather large fellow and his first thought was 'how can he fit into the drop pod' after a few seconds of thought he shrugged and walked in with his right arm in a sling and walked over to his bunk and sat down in it before looking over at the 'new guy' who seemed a lot older then him and even wore the rank insignia of a Corporal.
He himself was just wearing some civilian clothing, black cargo pants folded into his boots and a black shirt with folded down sleeves, it all neatly groomed like the regulation required. "Hello" he started out half-heartedly "Welcome to the 32nd." he said offering the man a nod, before putting his cigarette behind his ear. He looked around "I guess I'll be the official welcome committee then... Names Lucian Vinigan 1st Squad, 1st fireteam, radio operator." he didn't sound extremely formal but was just introducing himself.
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Post by Macbeth Stewart on Oct 20, 2012 5:45:32 GMT -5
Mac cast an eye over the man in civies who had just entered. He had come from the med-bay evidently if the freshly tied sling around his arm was anything to go by; the new fellow in typical soldierly style nursed an unlit cigarette, occasionally flicking it from one corner of his mouth to the other. As the fellow sat down and looked towards him, Mac returned to his book reading as easily as before – clearly unconcerned that there was another person in the room with him. Mac was not anti-social by any means, he was off-duty a fairly sociable guy, but he was never the first person to make a move. Mac’s personality was reactive, it adapted and responded to situations it did not create them.
So as the man strolled over to introduce himself, Mac studied him closely. The man’s eyes were the first thing he noticed, one green and one blue, as a result Macbeth knew the fellow before he introduced himself. He would be the young Private in Mac’s new Fire-team, Macbeth began to mentally go through the lad’s file, and as he did so the man introduced himself. Mac ever a stickler for old-fashioned mores stood to greet Lucien, as he did so his full height becoming apparent, and thrust out a hand to grab Lucien’s unbroken one.
“Thanks for the welcome Private; I’m Macbeth Stewart…your fire-team’s new corporal.”
He smiled and eyebrow’s danced in mirth, for he wondered if the lad would be as friendly once he set to work. Going over the reports Mac had seen that the fire-team’s composition changed regularly, so regularly that no espirt d’corps had time to develop. Meaning the team never operated at peak efficiency, this was something he intended to fix…immediately. He looked down at Lucien’s arm and pointed at it with the book that had remained in his left-hand,
“How’s the arm? Nothing too serious I hope, we have a lot of work to do…”
Mac smiled knowingly. Mac reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of matches, flicking it open he offered one to Lucien,
“Light?”
Mac carried matches rather than a lighter as he smoked – the few occasions when he did smoke – cigars, and one never lit a cigar with a lighter as his father had chastised him once (as they both stole a smoke away from Mac’s mother’s watchful eyes). Though he knew the answer Mac asked anyway, wanting to get a better feel for the men under his command,
“So how long have you been with the 32nd?”
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Oct 22, 2012 14:02:32 GMT -5
He looked at the man who appeared even larger now he stood up, making Lucien feel even smaller then he did before. He got to his feet as Macbeth approached in order not to feel tiny, the man seemed to be thinking about something after the introduction a corporal that had hopefully done his homework and read something about the unit.
As Macbeth extended his hand Lucien held forward his left hand being the unbroken and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Stewart, my fire-teams new corporal... And I prefer Lucien or Vinigan rather then my rank." he said before taking a step back from the man he felt like taking a few steps in order to not feel even smaller by standing so close to Macbeth.
As Macbeth pointed at the broken arm and said he hoped it was nothing to serious he pulled on his shoulders "I don't know, guess not, can't say I'm in the habit of getting hurt so I can't say I had worse this time was caused by some random pilot who couldn't fly..." he shrugged lightly "Work to do?" he asked while arching his brow "Not sure I follow Stewart I'm off duty as ya might'ave noticed" he said a bit puzzled still not being sure what to think of Macbeth.
As Macbeth offered a light by flicking open a pack of matches he nodded and fiddled out a match hoping that Macbeth would hold on to the matchbox as he lit the match on phosphorous side of the match box and lighting his cigarette "Thank you" he said politely.
Then came the question, how long he had been with the drop corp. He took a deep breath and thought for some time "Mmh along with lt. Hobbar and Silva the longest..." he said with a light shrug feeling there had been to many changes "Since the start? I think... Again welcome" he said before walking over to a chair in the center of the room and sitting down "Only been in... 2 battles though" he guessed Macbeth had been in more battle then he had but he hadn't set time on how long he had been with it but almost a year. "Actually both Counter-terrorist battles..." he said looking blankly into the air tapping the table thinking about how violent the last battle had went.
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Post by Macbeth Stewart on Oct 22, 2012 18:20:22 GMT -5
“While we are off-duty Lucien it is then; most people just call me Mac.”
Macbeth said it all very easily and relaxed, though his tongue had lingered on the syllables of ‘off-duty’ – Mac was not about to adopt such informal tones when they were on-duty, that much he was certain of. He noticed Lucien take a few steps back, Mac was keenly aware of his height often using it to his advantage, and so relaxed a little in his posture – seeming a little less imposing.
When Lucien mentioned that his broken arm had been caused by some idiot pilot Mac smiled reflexively – the tension between infantry and air-force was never far below anything. The smile grew wider and Mac laughed a little when the puzzled private asked what work Mac had meant. A little bit slow on the up-take this one, Mac thought wryly, still to be fair he might be dosed up on painkillers.
“Not now Lucien. I meant with the fire-team, I was looking over the files on my flight here…” His voice lost its mirth and became serious, “…and the level of performance just will not do.”
He left it there, waving the subject off with his right hand, no need to get into details yet – Lucien would find out soon enough. Mac’s tone once again relaxed and a little jovial he held onto the box of matches as Lucien struck one alight,
“Not a problem.”
He contemplated have a smoke himself, but he planned to visit the gym later and it wouldn’t help and so passed on the notion. He listened as Lucien relayed how long he had been with the 32nd, while the private wandered to the centre of the room and took a seat Mac searched for a chair of his own. Throwing over his shoulder as stalked around the room for a chair,
“Since the start, impressive, must have kept a clean nose and got good grades at boot-camp?”
He found a stack of chairs in the corner and grabbing one walked back to the centre of the room. He turned the chair around and sat resting his arms on the back-rest. As Lucien tapped the table aimlessly Mac shrugged his shoulders,
“It seems more and more that counter-terrorist missions are all we are getting these days…”
Mac couldn’t help but miss the days of more…honest combat, after all he had an actor’s tendency to romanticise. Not that he harboured any illusions about combat, asymmetrical or otherwise, he had been in too many fights to hang onto any romantic ideas about combat; but he could never escape romanticising the past.
“…and they are always bloodier than others.”
He said that last sentence with a grimace of personal experience, however it quickly vanished and his face remained as impassive as ever. Mac stood and went to the water cooler, pouring a cup for himself he gestured towards an empty cup,
“Want one?”
Still by the water cooler he asked,
“Where are you from Lucien? Solar boy or a colonial?”
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Oct 23, 2012 10:36:41 GMT -5
Macbeth or Mac as he preferred to be called seemed a bit odd to him, maybe it was the way he acted or the way he was he wasn't to certain as of yet. "Alright... Mac" he said not knowing if he felt like knowing this person into detail with the speed of replacements this unit went through.
As Mac finally explained what he had meant with later Lucien nodded a bit feeling a bit annoyed at himself for having misunderstood it, though he too was just drawing the conclusion it was the painkillers. "Oh... Well I feel like I am doing my job just fine... I might not be the best marksman nor am I required to be but I do the job I am told at the best of my ability despite that might even only be air-support, artillery and medvac/casevac's" he said taking it a bit as a personal insult being told he didn't do well enough, after all he was the youngest in the platoon.
Lucien followed with his eyes Mac around the room as he himself went to get a chair to sit down on. As Mac said it had been impressive he had been with them from the start and he must have gotten good grades in boot camp he gave a faint smile. "'clean nose' as you call it yes, breaking regulations never been my strong suit... Good grades? Well I did take MOS training and became a radio operator but my marksmanship is only around average... My skills are in technology not killing" he said still being proud of himself.
He just listened and nodded to the next few things mac said not being sure what to reply to them, after all it was the only battle he had experienced besides the training exercise he had done when he joined up with Kilo Platoon. And he could only agree from the assumption that it was only bloodier. As Mac walked up to the water cooler and asked Lucien if he wanted a cup as well he nodded "Yes, please" he replied politely "How about you? You seem battle hardened... I'm sure you experienced a lot... How long you been serving?" he asked curiously.
As he was asked where he was from he smiled a bit again "Solar boy as you'd call it mate... Born in London... Our Capital... How about yourself?" he asked, as open as Mac had been Lucien didn't feel like ending the good conversation.
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Post by Macbeth Stewart on Oct 23, 2012 12:39:35 GMT -5
Mac sensed Lucien bristle with indignation at the implication that he was performing sub-par, a reaction which only caused Mac to smile dryly and shake his head. Illustrating his points with gentle movements of the hands he replied in a calm tone,
“Everyone is performing their task in the unit adequately but the unit is not pulling together as one solid body. It is the difference between satisfactory and exemplary, or to put it in more realistic terms between life and death. A unit which operates as one, that is cohesive and with each soldier reinforcing and enhancing the abilities of his comrades in arms, is rightly feared and respected. This fire-team isn’t that yet.”
He smiled and lingered on the word yet, for by God if they weren’t the best fire-team in the 32nd after he had finished with them, then Mac would eat his own hat. When Lucien smiled, even faintly, Mac responded with equal warmth – he was glad to see the private a little more relaxed. Just because he was his superior officer didn’t mean that Mac wanted to be despised by Lucien, in point of fact he preferred the opposite.
“We should get along fine then…”
He offered in quick retort to Lucien’s statement about not being particularly given to breaking regulations. Mac also noticed the pride with which Lucien spoke of his skill as a radio-operator and Mac approved of it, after all you should take pride in your work.
“…Glad to hear it, technology has never been my strong suit…” With a laugh he gesticulated over his shoulder to his bunk, “…can’t even get my personal computer to work, so I can send a message home.” He smiled genuinely.
Mac grabbed and began filling a cup of water for Lucien; meanwhile he took a deep draught of his own, he was quite thirsty it seemed. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Lucien mentioned he looked “battle-hardened” Mac just shrugged his heavy shoulders easily.
“Seven years in total…” Lucien’s cup filled he began walking back, “…suppose I’ve seen my share of combat, counter-insurgency ops mostly but a few stand-up fights here and there.”
He handed the cup over to Lucien and then took his seat, when Lucien mentioned he was London born Mac lent forward a little bit and excitedly asked,
“Did you ever get to see any shows at the Old Vic?” Running a hand through his hair he added, “…Never been to the Earth, let alone London, always wanted to mind – family just never had the money.”
Leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs over Mac replied lazily,
“Me? Oh I am a colonial boy through and through, born and raised on Magnum’s World in the Hector sector.” He took another sip of water, “Ever been? Wouldn’t recommend it, cold and rocky, still home is home hey?”
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Oct 23, 2012 14:16:47 GMT -5
He sure did talk a lot about 'unit performance' making him shake his head "You do realize we so far lost more men to a bad pilot crash landing, of cause caused by enemy fire then we have to being on ground and under actual fire?" he asked curiously still not being sure on this man's critic of cause he was right, it was the difference between life and death and he'd rather be on the life side.
As he stated that they were going to get along fine he nodded agreeing.
When Mac state technology wasn't his strong suit and he couldn't even get his computer to work Vinigan thought for a few moments "Well if you want me to try you can let me have a look at it? Already fixed the Dauntless Flight commanders computer... Of cause if it keeps troubling you the Dauntless have computers for that specific use... And with the proper transmission beacons" he said politely always offering to help where he could.
As Mac came over with the cup he accepted it politely "Thank you" he stated as he fumbled with the problem of only being able to use one arm and having to put the cigarette down and drinking of cause this was more or less successful as he took a sip from the cup of water and picked his cigarette back up. "7 years is quite a while" he stated guessing this was going to be like another Silva... Just larger.
He had never expected to get questions about London especially not from a person most likely being a lot older then him. At the mention of 'the old vic' Lucien seemed to go into thoughts repeating the name for himself "Hm... Can't say I have... The old vic? Wasn't that torn down hundreds of years ago to give way to a bigger theatre sponsored by Human Corp?" he wasn't sure but he had never seen any ancient buildings let alone in the part of London he was from, ages of decay, rebuilding and modernization had gotten rid of most of the old buildings.
"But London is a nice place, very active and alive, and a heck lot of politics" he said with a half-hearted chuckle. As Mac told where he was from Lucien nodded interestedly "Magnum? Can't Say I have been there... Furthest away I ever been from Earth was Stataca where some of my training happened... And of cause Sisyphus where our disaster happened" at the statement home is home Lucien smiled again and nodded, he liked to think of home although he tried not to considering the distance he was from there "Aye... Home is home and cheers for that" he said lifting up the cup of water in a half done toast before drinking some of the water.
"So for a man caught in the old ages..." he said referring to the book and questions about the old vic "What made you become a soldier instead of an antique dealer or archaeologist? " he asked curiously fiddling up something looking a bit like a mix of a PDA and Ipad "I mean everything I have to read I read on this" he said not knowing if he had ever seen a book for a long while, of cause he drew pictures and paper had it's uses for that but in the end it wasn't as practical.
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