you gotta fight for your right to party

[episodically]

» WHO? all ya'll!
» WHEN? sometime after the 15th
» WHERE? everywhere
» WHAT? house party!
» WARNINGS? i'd say blanket warning for language, maybe light violence, anything else, i'll update.

[ jim kirk wasn't the captain of this station. he wasn't even a ranking officer but he knows enough about people to know that, if you put them through the wringer over and over again, they're going to break without some sort of downtime. and jim's not about to be on a station where everyone's breaking down. no, he hadn't come back from death to die again.

so, he goes back to his roots. he goes back to the days where he'd spent all of his time in bars, hitting on pretty girls and boys, and getting into fights. maybe possibly they can cross out fights tonight but the rest of the stuff? nah, jim wants it all.

he trawls his way through the station to see what they have, first of all. and then he gets to work. the replicators don't serve great booze but it's booze nonetheless and he gets those flowing, filling bottles and glasses and sliding them out for anyone to have. he fiddles with the lights in the bar to make it more appropriate and even asks this new ai on board for some music. if that doesn't work, everyone's just going to be treat to him singing.

then, he pulls out chairs and benches from the rooms and lines the halls. he wants everyone to be together, to talk to each other and the halls seem like the most well traveled place. he draws signs that lead people to the pool where he's tossed a bunch of small things in to take the place of beach balls and toys. he even suggests chicken fights because who can resist a good chicken fight?

is it sacrilegious to see up makeshift twister in the chapel? oh well because that's where it is. dancing, he decides, is best for observation deck so he asks for a little more music filtered in there because who wouldn't want to dance with that beautiful backdrop?

on the command deck, jim rigs up some lights, making it more apt for a party and sets up a few tables with cards and other random things to signify money. if people want to do some gambling, lose their shirts, jim's not going to stop you. he prefers strip poker, really, but there are youngsters around so behave. somewhat. ringing the room, he finds spots to set up arm wrestling tables because who doesn't want to show off their strength? not jim, he knows so many people would beat him but maybe other people want to grab the title of 'strongest on the station.' jim will make you a medal and everything.

he wants to do something with the library but he doesn't want to wreck it. so, poetry readings. there's no mic but he does set up a chair to act as a stage and even pushes various other chairs around it to act as an audience. don't get too wild in here. the nonexistent librarian won't like it.

lastly, he finds himself in the hangar. there are shuttles in there that he doesn't want to break but it's a big space so fuck it, he goes for a fight club type atmosphere. people need to get the tension out somehow and while fucking likes bunnies would be ideal, asking for an orgy tonight would be too much. so, he draws chalk outlines of various rings for various different matches. he makes rules that say this isn't till the death, be fair, no hitting below the belt and, if jim were to get into the ring, you weren't allowed to mess up his hair.

he was the party organizer, he got to make the rules!

once everything seemed to be set up, he just started knocking on doors at random to get people out of their rooms and out into the open. this station was stupid but he wasn't going to let things fall apart without a fight. ]

---

[ it's a party and it's open for everyone!! post your tl's, tag around to others and just enjoy yourself. there's no sinister motive here except getting that sweet, sweet cr. if you want to wildcard something being at the party, plz feel free to do that within reason, of course! hit me up at spoonishly for questions/plotting! ]

Comments

[resleeves]

[ a thin smile cuts its way across kovacs' face and he beckons the man forward. ]

Come on, then. Show me you're not a chickenshit.

[oorah]

[ it coaxes a grin out of him, putting his fists up as he circles in, closer and closer. ]

If you stay conscious through round one, you can be the judge of that. [ it's obvious he isn't just talking shit. this is a guy who's put a lot of people down with these fists alone. ]

[resleeves]

If you can knock me out, I'll take a spacewalk in my fucking underwear.

[ is he doubting you, frank? yes, yes he is. inwardly, he has a feeling that this will be a challenge but there's very few people that can say they hold a victory over him. ]

Come on.

[oorah]

As long as I don't have to watch.

[ he works his way in close and puts his fists up, trying to get a feel for how kovacs moves, where his weaknesses might be. ]

Ready when you are, man.

[resleeves]

Wouldn't be the first time someone's watched me do shit naked.

[ but that's not going to happen because he's not going to lose. he circles around frank for a few seconds before moving forward, throwing a quick straight jab towards frank's jaw. his reach is longer and that is something he's absolutely going to use as leverage. ]

[oorah]

That doesn't surprise me.

[ and neither does the forceful start. kovacs has long arms, but frank is faster than he looks and lighter on his feet than he should be for a concrete brick of a man. it's a near thing, but he dodges the opening blow, wind whistling past his face and making him grin. his strategy is as it ever was: to tire his opponent out more than to hurt them in the first round. he goes for kovacs side, but not with his full power and not caring if it connects because a moment later he's dancing away again, forcing the man to keep chasing him. ]

[resleeves]

[ he's fought smaller opponents before so he thinks he knows what's frank's going to do but frank isn't quell. quell had been one to put you away as soon as she saw and opening and he doesn't know if that's frank's thing or not.

best not to charge in there but be methodical about it, step closer, feint one way, feint the other and then just swing a quick kick right at the joint of his knee. ]

[oorah]

[ if nothing else, it's good to be evenly matched with an opponent (ish) and it's clear he's enjoying himself - enjoying the fight. every blow that hits only has him coming back stronger, more energized. with adrenaline flowing freely through his veins, the hit to his knee lands, but he doesn't react despite the sickening crack it makes. instead he throws his leg at kovacs, attempting to sweep him off his feet by acting quicker than the man might expect after getting hurt. ]

[resleeves]

[ he ends up on his shoulder, landing hard when his legs get cleanly taken out from underneath him. he hadn't expected that but he should have. he'd done that to quell a time or two, underestimated her after he'd landed a hit and now he's scrambling to get back to a better defensive position, hands up and trying to land a few preventative body blows to keep frank back. ]

[oorah]

[ frank is moving backwards anyway, putting distance between them so kovacs won't spring up and use his leverage to take him down. and once he's on his feet again he's charging him, aiming for his face and throat in a wild blitz attack. ]

[resleeves]

[ kovacs manages to block a lot of the shots and then absorbs the others until frank's close enough that he can reach out, grab his head and try to drive it into the knee that he's quickly bringing up to bash against frank's nose. ]

[oorah]

[ his nose is already hopelessly crooked, broken just this way if not others time and time again. he doesn't even try to defend against the telegraphed move, letting out a brief grunt as his nose cracks and blood trickles down his face. it gives him the time and momentum he needs to deliver an elbow to kovac's guts, then swipe him across the face with the meat of his other arm. ]

[resleeves]

[ the guy is good, that's for sure, but kovacs has taken one too many beatings to let a few blows knock him off his feet. he spits blood and then comes back full force, swinging controlled, precise strikes in frank's direction, aiming for his chin and chest in quick succession. ]