VWAT Indoor Training Facility

The Indoor Training Facility located in the VWAT compound contains all the necessary equipment to fit the training regimen of most of the personnel with the organization. It also possesses a locker room for both men and women along with an indoor pool and a sparring area for practicing martial arts.

Fitness Center

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Soo Young delivered a crushing kick to the side of another poor VWAT grunt. She'd already built up quite a reputation amongst the peons of VWAT. A good many of them had decided to "Teach her a lesson" For her past transgressions. It merely resulted in quite a few of them running off with their tail between their legs as she swept them away like leaves in the wind. The issued she'd seen with each and every one of them was confidence. It wasn't a matter of lacking it and more a matter of having too much. Each of them approached her with a smug expression as if in their mind the battle had already been won.

And each one would leave the sparring mat with that smug expression twisted in pain or shame. And deep inside it brought Soo Young a sick sense of satisfaction at watching each of these so called "professionals" crawl away from her beaten and broken both mentally and physically. This was how she did things back in the NKSOF she'd make sure they knew who was the superior one. She glanced into the mirror opposite her just in time to see another poor VWAT grunt rush her from behind only to be met with a swift elbow to the nose. She let a smirk spread across her lips as she heard the satisfying crunch of a nose collapsing beneath her strike.

The man let out a scream of pain as he dropped to the ground gripping his broken nose which now had blood streaming from it. Soo Young placed her foot upon the man's chest pushing him down against the floor. All around the mat were men either barely standing or not standing at all all of them sporting bruises or bloodied noses. "All of you are disgraces..." Soo Young said looking upon them all with distaste in her eyes. "You outnumbered me 10 to 1 yet you all approached me one by one like some sort of martial arts movie, Your techniques were all show and no action all of you just wanted to show off." Soo Young said before turning her eyes to the man beneath her foot.

"You had an obvious advantage yet you squandered it on pointless bravado..." Soo Young said narrowing her eyes at the man who'd let this "attack" on her. "Shut the hell up you bitch!" The man growled. Soo Young quickly slid her foot forward pressing down on his throat. "I...Am the victor...I give the orders." Soo Young hissed. The man beneath her foot was slowly turning purple in the face as he resisted giving the woman above him the satisfaction of his compliance. A few men got to their feet shakily and moved forward to remove the woman but were quickly stopped as Soo Young spoke.

"One movement and I can crush his windpipe and snap his neck...Stay where you are..." Soo Young said glancing at them out of the corner of her eye as the man beneath her tapped frantically on her ankle. As the man's eyes began to roll up into his head she removed her foot from his throat and walked off the sparring mat to sit on a nearby bench. This entire thing had been a interesting distraction from her dull everyday routine around this place. She watched as the men she'd just taken down began to leave the sparring area limping out or some being supported between two others. All of them shooting her fearful or dirty looks as they passed the quiet woman.

As the last man she'd defeated passed she heard him stop. "Would you really have killed me?" He asked his voice a bit unsure likely with fear. "Without a second thought..." Soo Young simply said not even turning her gaze to face him as she instead looked toward the opposite end of the room. The man stayed still for a moment before leaving with the rest of his group.

"Where do you think you're going? the director questioned the beaten group of soldiers. "What happened here?"

"That prisoner! She attacked us! And some others, too, but they ran off!" The man in charge was desperately trying to save face in front of their leader. Hopefully, he thought, the director would punish that bitch somehow. Then she'd pay for breaking his nose.

Instead, however, his collar was grabbed, a meaty right hook plowing into his already broken nose. "I did that because you lied to me," he stated matter-of-factly. "I can hear everything that happens in this base through those collars. I know that it was you who orchestrated the attack on this prisoner, and that they somehow managed to singlehandedly defeat all of you in unarmed combat." The man was helped to his feet, the few in the rear beginning to back away slowly.

"That woman may be scum, but trying to assault her like some group of gangbangers makes you worse than scum. Not only that, you disgrace this entire organization with your incompetence. All of you, get out of my site before I have you discharged." He entered the gym to inspect the damage. Nothing was broken, the few spots of blood on the ground being easy enough to clean. In the corner was the woman they'd attack. She seemed in well enough condition, if hurt at all. Judging from the condition of the soldiers, it was most likely she was unharmed.

Soo Young could hear the lies that the pathetic excuses for soldiers told from her seat in the corner. It didn't matter to her honestly if she was punished or not. She still had the satisfaction of knowing she defeated each and every one of them. She'd always remember the feeling of their leader's nose collapsing beneath the force of her elbow. The feeling of his blood splashing onto her skin as he fell back.

She raised an eyebrow as she heard the thud of a punch being thrown and raised her head to see the leader of the group sprawled out on the ground gripping his nose which was bleeding even more profusely now. She felt a slight grin spread over her face as she watched the men get to their feet and leave obviously defeated and feeling quite betrayed from the fact that their own commander saw the idiocy in their lies. She listened as the door to the gym creaked open and the man in charge himself entered the room. "Director Steeler...What do you think of my handiwork?" Soo Young said with a small smirk as she directed her eyes towards the ground closing them.

She didn't regret her actions in the slightest and the thought that the groups own leader took her side over theirs gave her satisfaction that knew no end. She knew that those men would forever live with the knowledge that they were nothing compared to her. They were second rate and always would be with their idiotic sense of pride that demanded that they prove themselves. In her mind pride held no place in a soldier's mind it was all what was effective and what wasn't. Pride was what brought down empires and destroyed armies. The idiotic need to prove oneself instead of attain victory through whatever means necessary.

Despite acknowledging the necessity of her actions, the director was anything but amused. "Get back to your cell," he commanded. He would call a cleanup crew to mop the floors after he returned to his office. He had work to do and this was a very unwelcome distraction from today's schedule. The foreign agent would be here within the hour, and he couldn't waste time on petty squabbles. Preparations were still being made and things needed doing.

Soo Young's smirk remained firmly planted on her face as she got to her feet giving the Director a mock finger salute. "Of course...sir..." Soo Young said leaving the room. All things considered this had been a good day. A few of the men she'd defeated were seated in the hall outside nursing their wounds or being treated by medical staff. The disgust and anger in their eyes had given way to fear and caution. They would learn from this defeat she could only hope they would learn what she wanted them to learn.

----------> Exit

(OOC) Business be done here.

---> Outside Office

-------> Main Mess Hall

Soo Young entered the training facility there were few people about and even fewer using the sparring mat. After her most recent incident with a group of VWAT troops in the room it seemed as though the majority of people had taken to avoiding the mat. It didn't help that there was still a bit of blood on the mat that had refused to wash from the cracks in between the mats. As she reached the mat she sat down on one of the nearby benches unlacing and removing her boots before stepping onto the mat to await her companion.

(Meh post it'll get better promise)

The recent incident within the Mess Hall was rather amusing, but it had become quite stale with a rapid quickness that came all too often now. Even when thrown amongst a horde of supposedly dangerous convicts, most of which having been pulled from Guantanamo Bay, they all held very little influence, leaving barely any lasting impressions outside of how pitiful they all seemed. This included the most recent dining partner that she had engaged in conversation with; a minor source of entertainment, but even then she would eventually lose that quality, just like everything did.

It had been something Keira was aware of for quite some time, the "dullness" that laid claim to the sense of wonder, intrigue, and genuine curiosity that was common to more people, ever since she had become the leader of Night Nine. However, it wasn't something she dwelled on back then. She didn't have too, because she was always placed on duty with the elite unit. The amusement she sought was never ending back then, because there was never a shortage of black-barred assignments that they were to carry out with very, very few instances of actual "vacation time".

VWAT just seemed... dull. Even when thinking back to the more amusing individuals' she had come across, like the Misha on the roof, even that was rather droll. VWAT was a place of stagnation to the Night Nine Leader, confined within it's walls until orders would be handed down from Steeler. It was nothing like being under the authority of JSOC, though they were still the ones in charge of her, as she and the three others that accompanied the transfer were simply on loan, but the point still stood - there was hardly anything here.

"It's time to change that~", the thought trailed off as a low whistle escaped from the smirked lips that were a constant decoration on her face, the tonality being both merry and cheerful, in a sense. She entered the training facility a little while after Seung, who she had convinced to join her in the activity she had planned. However, Keira lacked to mention any actual details of what that involved, she was going to save that for later. Instead, surveying the facility took priority, and she found it suitable for the task she had in mind.

The merry tune of the whistle had changed in tone, taking on a mock imitation of what one would use when surprised, as the green eyes of the Night Nine Operator fell upon a heavy back that, interestingly enough, had a push up bar impaled through it. "I might have to stand corrected about this place being dull... That's something you really don't see everyday~" Luckily, other heavy bags, one's that weren't useless, were still plentiful and ready for the use she had in mind for them.

Traversing the distance in a casual stride, Keira unhooked one of the large sacks and heaved it over the nape of her neck, both of her arms rising up to wrap around it for a firmer hold. It wasn't as heavy as those she used to utilize inside the JSOC facilities that were provided back in the day, but it would certainly meet the requirements. Satisfied with the weight, she straightened her posture and made her way over towards one of the mats before setting it down beside her, a hand place securely atop to keep it from toppling over.

It was about time for the routine she had developed in the earlier years of her life to be carried out, and for that, the rest of the soldiers would need to arrive to the battlefield. The corner of the already smirked lips tugged a bit higher before slightly puckering as she glanced towards the facility doors. Letting out a whistle, one of distinct and unique tone, rising and dropping in pitch at varying intervals, that acted as a call sing to the rest of the crew. Well, most, since she figured, must to her displeasure, Aiden was still in the medbay.

"C'mon, boys! It's time to play!"

Zulu was sad. It's not often Zulu is sad, because Zulu is a manly man, and as a result, found himself almost weeping for his archnemesis, Aiden, or as he'd like to tease him, Buttboy. Zulu laid some flowers on Aiden's coma-ridden face, as he had tendered the idea that they may never see him ever again, having been taken out not in the fires of war and combat, but out of fits of insanity, that perhaps after all those shots to the butt led to a build up of pain, that suddenly erupted in an inopportune moment, and led him down a woeful path of maniacal craziness, before being put out of his misery with a choke from Keira's strong arms. Not dead, but asleep for a long time. Keira had probably overdone that bit a little bit too much. It felt like months had passed by with little to no activity from Aiden, maybe he should call his family and ask them to pull the plug on the man. No one should be subjected to such suffering like he does now. Why Zulu remembers the first time he met Aiden, it was that both of them were on each other's nerves, what with Zulu's true name being Marion, and Aiden having a tendency to get shot by sniper bullets in the most exaggerated and implausible manner possible, including a case of a ricochet from a subsonic bullet that sent the projectile to bounce off of no less than twelve different surfaces, before hitting the man squarely in his posterior quarters.

Having taken a brief break after some boredom, something that killed him a little bit deep inside when he was sent to hunt down pixies, Zulu had left the medical wing to fetch some cup of coffee. Politely nodding to the many that passed him, before heading over to the mess hall, and fetching himself some of that mud tasting beverage which insulted his tongue with its taste, drinking some of that coffee he poured himself some from the pitcher, after brewing a fresh batch for himself.

Taking a small sip, as the many convicts and some legitimate people talked about their nonsensical conversations that Zulu wasn't interested in, no way he could relate to them, not out of preconceptions of being an elite, but simply because he felt alienated, he had killed far too many people, did too many morally objectionable things that made him jaded and distanced from others, the horrors and atrocities he had to inflict, was so his nation could function, and so others would not have to take his place. He doesn't delude himself into thinking he was some noble and nice guy, but just another dude under government paycheck to do the dirty job nobody else talks about or knows much of. Killing Osama Bin Laden by the Navy SEALS is a joke in fact, to Zulu, too easy, and he wasn't involved under an operation like that. They didn't have to burn down villages, or kill someone's goat to send a point, oh no, none of that truly dirty ops that were handed to N9.

From what little Zulu could hear while all the way back at the counter in the mess hall from a nearby table, apparently the blood, the dried puddle on the ground he passed by, were a result of some convicts that tried to pick a fight with two women. He had expected it to be a work of the two women somehow, but anticlimactically, the guards just beat the prisoners to an inch of their lives, and hauled them off to solitary confinement and correctional treatments. Huh, who would've thought? Ah well, he had places to be. Taking yet another final and long dragged sip from the scorching drink, Zulu finished the coffee, and set down the cup he took from the cupboard on the counter, before in a brisk pace, strolled off outside the mess hall and into the corridor...

Keira's whistle was met with a brief lack of being for the duration, not nobody had appeared for a long pause. Perhaps the VWAT base's building activity had drowned out her whistling noise? That remained to be answered with a sudden appearance of Zulu rolling in from a door's threshold that Keira came from, entering the room with an accompanying 'whirr' sound as he was almost a blur like a certain Hedgehog, before unfurling open from his balled up roll position, to a spirited stand. He was wearing his tiger stripe camo fatigue pants, boots, contact lens on his eyes, and an olive shirt. The N9 soldier that just entered within the bowels of the training room had rolled in past all obstacles and before Keira, about five feet away from her, and now standing before her, facing the woman, his superior officer, the Mama Bear. He knew this from glance, about that sort of training from base, if Zulu's intuition was correct on the matter.

"Here I am, ready to play your games once more, ma'am." Zulu said calmly, taking a glance over to note the presence of Soo and whomever else deigned to be in the same occupancy of this room, noting Soo looked rather Korean, and might be named Old, "So who's the girl, ma'am? Is she part of the game?"

Unlike the rest of his comrades, who ate their meals with the rest of the base in the cafeteria, Jensen abhored the loud noises that when on inside that small room.  The noise liked to aggravate the gift he received while he was being 'talked to' by MISIRI, or the Iranian Intelligence Agency, for eight months.  And misery it was.  Of course this small gift of PTSD left him in a constant hyper vigilance that would eventually lead him to violent outbursts of anger or even flashbacks to his capture.  Luckily he had been able to keep that from his squad so far.  Luckily because it is something that would most likely end his career, being damaged goods and all.

But there he was, sitting on the grass in the middle of the base with a tray of food piled higher than the Willis Tower, one of the few things he could get away with on the base.  No one stopped him when he wanted to food and no one kept him from going anywhere he didn't want to go without a few dozen bullets.  But there he was.  On the grass with a mouth full of food thinking how he would love to have a Big Mac again but how he would never have one now that he was officially 'dead'.  It was the only thing he was jealous about his team.  He was sure at least one hada wife and family to go to.  And it was one of the things that made him fit in with his commanding officer so well.  Though Keira was authorized leaving the base she didn't.  Of course it wasn't often he got to be by himself while on a military base, and he hoped no company sergeants found him sitting there on the perfectly kept grass.

He was also thinking why people preferred the goop that was called mess hall chow over MREs when he heard it faintly, but that was all he needed to hear.  Instantly his brain turned over and he felt his proverbial tail wag.  His mast...Commanding Officer needed him for something.  Was it time to go for a wal....training exercise with the rest of the group.  He nearly bar...yelled for joy.  Of course he didn't.  What he did do was make a gutteral sound deep in throat that sounded like Shyriiwook and would probably make a Wookie shit himself in fear.  It sounded something along the lines of "RRRrrruurgh! Arrggg!".  Of course with Wookies being allegedly fake, Jensen was sure that Sasquatch and the Yeti were Wookies, he was sure no one would have to worry about cleaning Wookie crap of the Master Sergeant's grass but they would definitely have to pick the shit they call food off the grass as well as the tray and utensils.

As Jensen hauled ass towards the sound of the whistle, people learned to get out of his way as those who didn't were ran over like that one NFL safety does.  Though with less grace and more injuries like broken collar bones and dislocated shoulders.  And then he spotted his final obstacle.  One last steel door that had decided to latch just before he got to it.  Not that that would stop Jensen.  Just as his massive bulk collided with the reinforced steel, he rotated his shoulder so that his full momentum went directly, now destroyed, door and its frame.  With a loud grinding sound and then a metallic snapping sound, the two hundred and ten pound man followed the steel door, now skidding across the floor, into the room.

"Huh..." he said quizzically.

With a shrug, he lift the door with two hands, with the door around a foot over his six foot one frame, before placing it back in his closed position within the frame.  He walked to the lone locker that held his workout gear.  Well it was his normal combat gear weighted down with lead and and extra steel plates to make it harder on him, patrol pack and everything.  As he looked back at his two members, he finally noticed the third member of the group, a relatively tall korean woman who stood taller than Keira did.  Jensen made an effort to smile that fake smile that only he, and probably Keira, knew was fake before donning the heavy gear.  After around one hundred and fifties pounds of gear later, Jensen approached the group, minus the helmet.  Of course his simple repair job of the door didn't hold so by the time he was about to introduce himself the steel door decided to fall right back to the floor.  On the front of the plate carrier system was the name Sasquatch over a O+.

With a shrug he looked back at the Korean woman's steel grey eyes and felt his smile melt off his face.  Those eyes held something back, much like his own.  It was if a wild tiger had been caged behind them and would do anything to be let out.  As he continued walking straight up to Soo, his smile now in a shape that would make most think he was going to start yelling, or throwing punches.  He looked her up and down once before looking back at those steel grey eyes.

"You're one of those prisoner's they use as fodder, aren't you.  Which military?"

((OOC:  Sorry for the lateness.))

Soo Young watched as her companion entered the room. She crossed her arms patiently waiting for their fun to finally begin but rather than moving to stand across from her she watched as the woman moved towards one of the punching bags hanging from a hook bolted into the ceiling. She raised an eyebrow observing as the woman effortlessly hefted the bag off the hook. She couldn't help but wonder what the woman had planned for the large object as she continued to watch as the woman brought it over to the mat setting it beside her. A part of her wondered briefly as to if she should inquire about the bag's purpose. But instead she settled with waiting to see first hand what the female special forces operator had planned for their little distraction.

She continued to wait as the woman let out a series of high and low pitched whistles, To Soo Young the sound held no meaning it was only air being wasted to make noise. Her eyebrow raised further as the woman called out seemingly to no one but the sound of running feet quickly proved that someone had indeed heard her call. She glanced toward the door just in time to see a blur of olive drab and camouflage come barreling through the door like a certain blue hedgehog. The ball of limbs and military clothing unfurled to reveal a man wearing glasses who moved to stand near the other woman. As the man spoke Soo Young's curiosity was only being fed more fuel as the man mentioned some sort of game. Was that what this all was? A game? To be honest Soo Young couldn't really argue with the logic of it the entire reason they were here was to relieve boredom for the most part.

Though the man's entrance was a bit unorthodox there was little else about him that drew Soo Young's significant attention. He was a soldier, A warrior that left little else to mind so she opted to instead wait patiently for this game that they would play to start. It didn't take long for yet another unexpected guest to make their entrance. This man seemed to be more heavily built than the one who had entered previously. And his entrance was just as "Unorthodox." As the last considering the man had literally knocked the door off it's hinges with his sheer bulk. She watched as the man lifted the door he'd just destroyed and crudely attempted to place it back into the door frame. The spectacle was actually quite amusing to watch especially as the door once more fell to the ground with a loud clang.

As the man turned to face her she met his gaze with her own. The look on the man's face would have put any other person on edge but Soo Young met it with a calmness that some would find slightly unnerving. If the man did mean her harm then it would only resolve the problem she'd set out to fix boredom. After a moment of silence the man finally spoke to her. The question might have offended others but it didn't really do so with Soo Young it merely brought up a small budding feeling of annoyance. Not towards the man for how he said it but because for the most part it was true. Her annoyance was quickly snuffed out however as she chose to answer the man's question "North Korea, NKSOF." She said simply.

And then a guard rushed in and was all like, "Yo, power be out, man!" He grabbed the convict by the arm and began pulling her out of the room. "We need your help stopping the riot! They'll listen to you!" And away he went.

Or so he thought. The guard that is. The one that was trying to drag Sasquatch's new friend away to be potentially raped and murdered by the convicts. Nope. Jensen was not going to have that. With a single, massive, furred hand he grabbed the soldier by the back of the collar hopefully halting in further movement towards the door. Of course, the only weapon on the bear of a man was the Stryder flip knife that was quickly brought into his free hand and flipped open.

"I'd reconsider that, friend. Korea here is staying with us."

Then, with a grin that looked so crazy that it would make Keira proud, he cracked his neck. He had his ballistic vest on, which was rated to protect against several high velocity rounds, and he was eager to kill some convicts, even if they did remind him of of his stay in Iran. Of course, if the soldier tried to stop Jensen from stopping him from taking the prisoner to the convicts, he would find an angry man the size of a grizzly and with a temperament of a Kodiak.

"How about instead of throwing Korea here to the wolves, we become a pack of wolves ourselves and take the fight to them."

The crazy smile persisted as he held the knife in a blade up grip, ready to strike any vital spots if the soldier chose to attack him instead of relinquishing the hold on the former NKSOF member. His other hand, on the soldiers collar, was prepared to pull the man off balance and into the awaiting knife. The white knuckled grip on the blouse wasn't going to break easily.

"And we can retake control over the base if you like."

Soo Young raised an eyebrow as a guard suddenly rushed into the room stating the obvious and seizing her by the arm. A brief twinge of annoyance shot through Seung's mind her body tensed ready to twist the man's arm behind his back and perhaps snap his wrist. But before such action could be taken the large bear like man came forward who'd asked about her origin came forward seizing her would-be victim by the back of his uniform halting them from leaving the room. Soo Young pulled her arm from the man's grasp crossing her arms across her chest giving the guard a pointed look.

"What makes you think they'll listen to me? A good measure of the convict population would love nothing more than to either have my head on a spike or have their way with me..." Soo Young said narrowing her eyes.

She glanced toward the large bear like man as he mentioned forming a wolf pack of sorts. "A wolf pack? Sounds intriguing..." Soo Young said she walked away toward a set of adjustable dumbbells. She released the weights from either end of the weight bars testing the weights in her hands. She wasn't armed but if there was something she knew how to do it was improvise. "So? Do we take the fight to them as you say? Or stay here?" Soo Young asked

"What kind of moron are you?" he yelled incredulously at the guy. "We got a billion criminals throwing a riot down here, and all you losers want to do is circle jerk until it blows over." He was prepared to insult him some more, but then, without any warning, thirty convicts came swarming in. Most were armed with pipes, a few with cattle prods from the guards. One guy was using an arm as a weapon. Either way, a good fifteen rushed this guy, another stopping momentarily to snap the original guard's neck and let his body fall to the floor like a ragdoll. The rest went for the other two. They weren't very concerned with the woman, since she wasn't wearing a uniform.

With one guard felled, the other three would soon follow. With seemingly no action from any of them, the first fifteen managed to tackle the large man, shoving him to the floor as they beat him in the face with their hard pipes. One stabbed him in the ribs with the taser, another sitting on his chest to try and smash the end of his pipe into his nose.

The other two were as unlucky as the first, their advanced tactic of standing around in meditation to center themselves (assuming it was meditation, at least) proving useless. The man's legs were tackled from under him, criminals holding down his arms and legs as others began stomping on his face and body. The woman was smashed across the face by a pipe, others joining in to batter her across her body, kicking her head into the ground and kicking her in the kidneys and tasing her in the stomach.

A few of them finally took notice of the other convict. Even if she was one of them, she must have turned soft, since she wasn't helping the riot effort. Four of them broke off from the mob, coming to swing their pipes (two of them) at her head. Truth be told, one of them held a grudge from the noodle incident three months ago. So much broth... So much pain...

For a moment Soo Young watched as a group of convicts stormed into the room killing off the guard that had been speaking just moments before like some sort of filler character in a video game or an anime. The guard's death held little meaning to Seung though it wasn't as if he'd really done anything worth mentioning before his death other than throwing a few colorful words before he'd kicked the bucket. It seemed that the majority of them had occupied themselves with assaulting her former playmates.

She simply watched for a moment making no move to really help or assist either side. At least this was the case until four of the moronic idiots had decided to break off form the pack and rush her instead. Two of them approached first swinging a pair of heavy metal pipes at her head. Immediately Soo Young dropped beneath both pipes considering both had been aimed at a single target allowing them to fly uselessly over her head while extending the points of both weight bars she was holding forward letting the convict's momentum carry them full force into the tips of them.

With a quick movement she glided past them before bringing both of the weight bars in her hands down onto the back of their heads with a sickening crack sounding upon impact. This left two more convicts to deal with hopefully they'd give up after her little display of brutality but somehow she doubted such a course of action would occur. "I should have just left when I had the chance..." Seung muttered shaking her head as she took up a defensive stand gripping both weight bars in her hands using them as makeshift eskrima sticks

So the first order of business in Zulu's brain was to kill a bunch of horny maniacal prisoners whom are perhaps rape happy enough to run around and murder everyone they come across for some reason, that to his understanding, was the spawn of some mutiny, or so at least he'd inferred from their suddenly evil actions. Still, earlier, the Korean woman remarked being from NKSOF, he didn't have a particularly high opinion of them, if only because they were relatively green, up against the likes of South Korea, rather than to be baptized all around the world. There can be so much a drill can do as opposed to fighting off in the baptism of warfare, or rather, what N9 would actually make everyone go through in sheer problematic exercises considered inethical. To be chosen from special forces, and even then, difficult in itself where there are a lot of washouts. Now in times like these, Zulu was pretty glad he often carried around a firearm, if not only because he'd never trust to be safe, even in a base like this, ESPECIALLY a base like this where convicts are abundant. Times like these makes it so that it's expedient to have a pistol with one's self, and the one Zulu had can make a difference with a few well placed shots.

So Zulu was thrown to the ground, as he stood there in a stupified daze where he was robbed of wits out of sheer activity, perhaps some of that pixie dust he had whiffed before bringing them back to the base has done a number on his psych, that he had blacked out during the inopportune moment of a bunch of convicts storming in, as he was pulled to the ground with a tackle to his legs, which AT LEAST wasn't as debilitating as Keira getting the snot beaten out of her. But then again, these jackasses were stomping on Zulu's face, causing his nose to dislocate, and yet ignoring the fact that the skull is the strongest part of the human body. Sure hurts like a mofo, but Zulu was able to manage. This is the part where one internally rambles and pontificates about how powerful and awesome they are, but what Zulu considered was these MOTHERFUCKERS just keep STOMPING ON HIS FACE, as one stomp sent his glasses spinning off his face, not cracking exactly, but becoming dislocated from the bridge. He'd have to manually adjust that for later on. His body weathered through the assault as well on the other hand as the hits were all over, hurting like a mofo as one caused a sudden reflex of strength upon getting stomped, albeit inaccurately and weakly given the point of stomping veering towards his abdomen, unto his groin.

SO, panicking often fucks people over often, and had Zulu panicked, he'd be wasting his time and getting himself screwed over more. He suddenly, in a fit of spasmic strength, pulled his legs inwards despite being withheld, by making use of the fact that he was being held by his arms, to pull himself towards those holding his arms down, his legs bending, knees protruding upwards, with his buttocks flat on the ground, he'd suddenly pull his feet away as it the bend would cause the hold to slide down to his shoes, and whip his left leg upwards first to the man holding his arm with his feet hooking towards the jaw of his face backed by high velocity as to rattle the brain into unconsciousness, and making use of that opportunity, as he wasn't exactly dog piled as much as pinned by a man each for two of his limbs, one up, and one down, he would spring into a stand should that same thwack send the arm pinner reeling backwards, and from there, best see how things go as he is up in some Kung Fu fighting mania schtick. Hopefully Keira and Jensen aren't as inconvenienced as Zulu was, after all, it'd be a shame for them to suddenly be screwed over despite how much N9 was built up to be major badasses. Hell, the NKSOF convict was kicking ass, and he'd have to respect that.

The artist formally known as Sasquatch was no more as his face was caved in by the end of a pipe. The woman's brains spilled out of her head as what was left of it was smashed into a bloody pulp on the ground.

The first two attackers on the terrorist were felled, one dying as his brain stem severed from the hard blow, the other falling unconscious from a hard concussion. The other rushed her, going first for her arms to try and disable those big sticks, then kick out her knees.

With unexpected dexterity, this super special awesome chocolaty fudge-coated super spy actually turned out to be formidable. He escaped the leg grasp on his left side, loosing that arm with the kick. Even on his feet, though, he was not free. The criminal on his right kept good grip of his arm, trying to slam him back onto the floor. The one at his leg, though forced loose, would attempt his signature punch to the groin to disable him (this was why he was in jail to begin with). From behind, the three men moshing the fuck out of his face would all try their hand at donkey punching him in the back of the head.

"Of course I'm right..."

This was the thought passing through Soo Young's mind as yet another one of the convicts had decided to be brave diving forward in a crude attempt at disarming her. With relative ease she quickly batted away both of the man's arms reaching for her weapons with quite a substantial amount of force using the very sticks that he'd been seeking to take away. She then quickly stepped into his open guard as a kick was sent her way before driving the point of her elbow into the side of his head quickly following her attack with a knee to the man's groin before striking him across the other side of the head with one of her sticks.

She spared a quick one second glance over her shoulder it appeared two of her former companions were very much dead both of them sporting crushed faces or skulls. "Shame..." Soo Young thought briefly before returning her attention to the situation currently at hand. She had one more convict that needed to be dealt with. She wouldn't bother entertaining the thought of this one turning tail and running. It seemed the entire lot of this bunch just wasn't programmed that way. Something that both annoyed and entertained the former North Korean Special Forces Operator.

She'd need to finish this last one fast before any more of the pack decided to get bored with the corpses of her two friends.

Where one sees strength, another sees weakness. That made no sense, and it made sense better in his head. Zulu's mind transpired within an instant towards what must be done in a quick conclusion, even if he should prove superior in survival where to his anticlimactic surprise, that the other two were unmade by convicts, which kind of was surprising considering all the talks they were going through over being a force of nature. Seriously, this was fucked up shit, he had heard them talk about their greatness, and yet HOW IS IT POSSIBLE they were taken out by these convicts? Perhaps the convicts were some sort of snowflakes with special powers to defeat just the N9? If so, how come Zulu was not dead? A conundrum he couldn't come over as he would consider the fact he needed to kick their asses BIG TIME, except this was one vs. a bajillion. Good odds for any others, were he a Spartan wearing nothing more than a leather thong. Perhaps that is why Persians shied away from the Spartans, for they were clearly heterosexuals, and Spartans were maniacal homosexuals whom had a penchant for sodomizing young boys, which speaking of which, was a true fact, as Zulu recalled. Well, then again, for some odd reasons, he remembered there was some Theban band that were all picked precisely because they had some love for one another, and went angry if someone killed another person. Okay, WHY THE FUCK is he remembering history, Persians, Greeks, Thebans, and all this shit while fighting for his life? Clearly these men would not be deterred by something as unseemly as wearing a speedo jockstrap, seeing how they're all sexually starved with situational homosexuality. Joy of joys, but then again, they didn't exactly rape Keira or Sasquatch, so they probably are feeling for Asian tonight. Good thing Zulu was not Asian.

So as he goes on, one of the men tried to throw him down, and another tried to donkey punch him. Zulu had a solution to this, and it involved lots of cheating. Too bad he didn't have god mode on, otherwise he wouldn't give two shits about the damage, and just go Sasquatch on them. Oh wait, Sasquatch was dead, even though he was pretty powerful, last Zulu recalled, with so much unresolved points about him too! Like how he had PTSD or some shit like that.

Anyways, Zulu decided to deal with the ambiguous prisoner trying to slam him down with a forceful pull. Zulu COULD resist, but that would screw up his momentum, so he decided to turn the table against the douche by actually assisting in the slam, albeit in a different manner. Helping himself with the power provided by this guy, he actually pulled downward, with the convict whom seemed to be forcing all he could downward, with his other hand aimed at bringing the man staggering forward, whilst twisting his waist sideways in his fluid motion, that the donkey punch to the testicles of his, that unfortunately were as large as golf balls, thus large targets, would actually hurt more so like a mofo than any other men, hence the need to preserve his fertility. The donkey punch came smacking against his thigh instead, it agonized him with pain, but nothing of a debilitating sort, as it seems to have hit the most metallic part of his belt socket hole.

If his attempt at throwing the man's own slam momentum instead to be stumbling past Zulu's front where once his former flank laid, the ploy would have it said man would be thrown towards those three attempting to donkey punch him in the back of his head, bowling them all with said bastard's body. If not that successful, he would, given the fact he turned sideways, would notice from his peripherals the incoming fists, and actually hunch downward, seeing how all those fists were aimed solely at the smaller target being his head, that would've landed at his cheeks had he not been dodging those. Their fists would taste air right above his hair as they sailed past above, and find themselves hitting nothing instead.

"ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS NOT ENTERTAINED?! ARE. YOU. NOT. ENTERTAINED?!" Zulu bellowed with the mighty roar of a sexy lion imperiled by unsexy convicts, his voice was proud and mighty, and noble, like a fierce man lion jaguar of Africa. If only it were sexy chicks, he'd give himself up gladly, unless they were trying to donkey punch him. Seriously, low blow.

As all that crazy eskrima with weapons far too heavy to wield easily was going on, the other guy trotted off to start chucking dumbbells at the woman. He started with the 20's, then the 30's, and just kept tossing until there were none left. Good thing he didn't skip arm day.

With their stomping fantasies finally satisfied, the two groups broke off to take care of the other two. Half went to the woman, the other half to the man. They tossed their pipes at her and jabbed with their prods, some just coming out swinging.

As for the man, he was not doing too well. He'd mostly managed to avoid damage, but he was on the ground now. One of the punchers fell over when hit with the other, but the two remaining were still up. Their first attack failed, they lifted their legs to stomp on his spine in unison. Crotchpunch McGee wasn't finished either, continuing his endeavor to punch his crotch.

With backup there, the fight seemed lost. Some of them came with pipes, one with a cattle prod, which the criminal tried to use on the soldier's ass. In general, he'd likely have his skull fractured and spine broken if he could not get out of the pile by, say, the next ten seconds or so.

(OOC: Few pointers before I commence my writing of the post. First up, going to assume direct control of Miss Soo Old/Soo Young for the purpose of preserving life, so hopefully she won't object. All life is precious as a snowflake. Secondly, John could attest to this [or perhaps not, if bribed with enough seratonin], that the severity of whatever happened to Zulu is mitigated by a few misunderstandings, that he is not as in a tenuous position as believed, ignoring the crowd of horny prisoners trying to pelt him in the ballsack for an odd reason. Perhaps it's the size that beckons their attention. Nonetheless, that in mind, away I post.)

Tapping into her inner martial artist, Soo Old/Soo Young, the NKSOF, was not deterred by the amount of men coming at her as she feels a thing of Kung Fu fighting, even though she's Korean instead of Chinese. Self-racist as she was, she took into account all the movements in her field of view, and a minute glance behind to infer as to the proximity and persona of everyone, and mumbled some Korean stuff in Chinese or some thing like that as she focused her attention on the man who threw exercising equipment at her. The dumb bell throwing guy found none of his marks hit Soo, for she weaved around the adversely thrown dumb bells which were going past her, over her, underneath her, and generally not one of them bludgeoned her. Sailing around as they would instead speed towards the people behind the Korean that were going to hit Soo in their midst. Her movement coincidentally, as she danced forward to the dumb bell thrower in haste, had found to be barely having avoided the prodding which failed to reach her given the newly created forward distance, instead, standing in the path of one of the dozens of dumb bells. Though it was the pipe that brought her low, having hit the back of her leg, at the knee as she was quickly kneeling, it actually warned her about their presence, or rather kept her mindful of them. Instead of being staggered, she rolled forward and sprung while her back was on the ground, mid-roll, to give the dumb bell thrower a taste of her boots to his face in an explosive kick. A portion of the pipes hit her, but luckily nowhere near enough to withhold her capabilities with pain -- mostly on her butt cheeks like a certain blond sniper.

The magnificent Zulu on the other hand was not thrown to the ground like some weak puppy, but stood proudly like a horny man-lion, except without the erection to prove such fertile needs. None of his desires were cultivated in the midst of some convicts and a flat Korean chick. Since he wasn't on the ground, his spine wasn't getting stomped on, so much as being kicked at. There was actually an opening on the crowd, a gap he could exploit, that given he was not in a pile, was in a better position to actually escape for he was standing up, not on the ground, getting beaten up silly. The rest of the enemy were also behind him, not that he was unaware, for he knew, that he would suddenly run towards that gap conveniently located towards the disparate group. The convicts from the thinnest ranks whom would be potentially able to stop him, would soon hear the explosive sound of gunfire, twice, with Zulu swinging his hips around from left to right, with a hand on the firearm grip still holstered but had a big enough hole to actually eject a cartridge with no problem, AND actually fire without breaking expensive leather. Having aimed from the hip, that given point blank proximity, would mean that he wasn't going to be inaccurate, unless he was trying to snipe with a pistol, which is foolish, each bullet would be singular, and aimed towards the two convicts that would be ranking in the crowd, towards their most precious of masculinity -- their testicles each.

The convicts behind Zulu would find that the cattle prod would not reach him either, as he would newly create a distance, to the empty portion ahead of the crowding circling lot, as the intent to harm him with makeshift weapons came not also given distance. Not to mention the ball puncher McGee had earlier though punched him in the metallic part of the belt, didn't manage to do much THIS time. The back kickers neither manage to do anything ALSO given newly made distance as Zulu steps out of the encirclement. In short, he got out relatively unscathed from the proceeding attacks, but not truly out of the room. The entrance is being clogged by the convicts, so Zulu unholsters his pistol, and fires at the lights, all three large ones, as darkness soon swallowed the room.

One guy got hit in the arm with a thrown weight, his bones shattering like a pane of glass tossed out a window. The others simply avoided them with due warning, trampling the guy on the ground crying over his poor little fractured body.

The thrower got kicked in the front of the head by a foot, then in the back by a wall, then on the brainstem by the weight rack. He was out. The other guys weren't interested in standing around, though, and kept going. A few of them grabbed their tossed pipes off the ground as they charged at the woman. Another continued trying to jab her with his rod to shock her.

This foolish fool had no idea what he was trying to do anymore. Two guys were shot in the leg (since a pile of men swinging their limbs at you in a circle tends to throw accuracy off a bit), but one of them held strong and continued hobbling towards him. The Disturbed Ball Puncher continued his mission, leaping forward to do a flying punch when the soldier came into view. The others swung their weapons and/or fists at appropriately fleshy parts of his body. Though the gunfire and raining glass did get into one guy's eye, leading to an overreaction culminating in slamming into a wall and tearing his own eyes out, the rest were undeterred. The lighting situation did not change, either, given that the power was out and only some red emergency lights lining the sides of the room were active, anyway. Waste of some good bullets, really.

Soo Young after attaining victory in her bout of chinese/korean kung-fu kickassery didn't miss a beat as she quickly made a hasty retreat from her incoming attackers her mind quickly taking note of the various threats she faced both infront of her and any that may lay in wait behind her. One man in particular was being quite a thorn in Soo Young's side as he continued to pursue her jabbing at her with a stolen cattle prod. Waiting for the exact right moment Soo Young stepped to the side before gripping the hand holding the hand of the convict holding the prod yanking it towards her straightening it before bringing her elbow down upon the joint where the forearm met the wrist and in one swift movement took the prod for herself before jabbing the point of the prod into former holder of the weapon's knee before taking a step back.

"We need to get out of here..." Soo Young thought she could have easily voiced it but to do so would easily tip off her attackers to her plans. Making a break through the crowd swinging and jabbing with the prod to keep the sea of bodies at bay Soo Young quickly made her way to the last man from Night Nine standing her back meeting his as her attackers quickly regrouped. "We need to go...Any ideas?" Soo Young said just loud enough for him to hear her.