Sic 'em

        「 ＳＡＹ  ＩＴ  ＡＧＡＩＮ 」

Is there a problem, Agent Maine?

Is there a problem, Agent Maine?

It’s no secret that you play mindgames, Florida, and it’s unfortunate enough for Maine that he hasn’t already heard this about you because you’ve no intent of holding back just because he’s a fresh face within the project’s ranks. You are small, Florida, and lacking in the strength that the others may boast, but you strike hard and fast and you are deadly and it’s for this reason that seeing Maine back into the defensive makes you feel a little bit cocky.

You’re not stupid, though, and you fully expect him to block your kick, and although you don’t plan on him moving to lift you and throw you, you aren’t caught off guard by him grabbing you and you’ve already got a plan in place. The moment you feel yourself being lifted off the ground you transfer what’s left of your momentum into twisting your body, bringing your free leg up and around before your foot makes contact with Maine’s face.

You’re free then, flying through the air, and you barely have a moment to figure out where you are in relation to the ground before you’re tucking clumsily into a roll. Gloved hands touch down first, followed by the toes of your boots and then you’re skidding on your knees, metal scraping against metal until you’re sliding to a stop, rising as you do.

Your hands slip away from him early, hurling him clumsily as you attempt to recover from the hit. It doesn't take long, but by the time you do, Florida's already charging again. You don't even have time to make it from shocked to angry, defending yourself on the fly. He is quick, and excellent at improvising under surprising circumstances, you'll give him that. It is in the latter, Agent Maine, that you fall short--at least after taking a foot to the face, and perhaps because you are a little too focused on not losing the first round to a puny smart-mouthed egomaniac.

rvb tarot; XX - judgment + maine

It is simply a fact that most of your comrades are also quite hot-headed.

In any case, as calm as you manage to remain, it would be a lie if you tried to say that the snarl escaping from Maine doesn’t send a tremor of fear through your bones, if just for a moment. A normal man would turn tail and run, hearing that. Hell, some of your teammates would back down. That would probably be the wisest decision, after all.

You, however, do not move from where you stand.

‘Ladies first.’

Admittedly, Florida, you chuckle at that, if briefly. If Maine had intended to insult you, to get your temper going, well— It’d take a lot more than that to piss you off.

"If you insist, Agent." Your voice is even, amusement seeping into the cracks of every word, and you slide a foot back, taking your time.

Then, you make your move. What you do isn’t exactly the bullish charge that Maine had made, but you’re sprinting at him, reading his posture as you go. You’ve already figured that he greatly favors his right side, meaning he’s weak on the left. You’re also aware that he knows you’ve figured out which side of his is weakest. Logically, he likely expects you to abuse that.

He doesn’t know just how full of surprises you are, though, and that’s where you come out on top.

You’re two strides away, looking to land the full force of a kick to the side of Maine’s left knee, hoping to push him off balance well enough to land a few blows before he can regain himself.

One stride away, you feint, instead going for his right, not bothering to come to a full stop as you snap your leg up, aiming a roundhouse kick to his side.

That's when it's time to lower your center of gravity, tighten the muscles of your legs and anchor yourself as though your feet have been welded to the ground. You are a tower, Agent Maine. You're not so cautious of opponents trying to knock you down when you're focused on driving them into the ground with an iron fist, but now you're more than confident a man a third your weight won't be able to pull that move a second time.

Watch him sprint towards you with a snarl knitted tightly in the back of your throat in anticipation. Watch his feet. Predict which side he is going to favour based on the distance of his strides. For a moment it's ambiguous but then you see as his right side twitches into action that he doesn't pounce quite far enough; that he hasn't closed enough distance to land a solid blow.

Shift your weight in preparation for a hit to your right side instead of your left and feel the carve of his leg through the air before you see it. Bring your hands out. Grab onto his calf with both hands and catch the brunt of his kick, feel the shocks in your joints as they absorb the force of it and keep moving, Maine. Use his momentum against him and twist until you've got him off the ground.

Still, frustrating the larger Freelancer, making him angry, is all a part of your plan. After all, it’s with a clear head that anybody fights best, and brute strength or no, Agent Maine is no exception. You’ve simply got to learn at what point it is that his temper impedes his ability to make rational decisions.

With the way he hits the floor, you expect it may not be terribly long at all until you’ve chipped through the other soldier’s practiced stoicism well enough to make an impression.

He’s on his feet quickly enough, and you can tell he hadn’t seen any of that coming. Taking a few steps back, you roll your shoulders, just as relaxed as you had been at the beginning of the round. Sure, you’ve got a few aches here and there, spots where Maine had made contact well enough to bruise, but Florida, you’ve taken bullets without much more than a stumble and a few bruises can’t stop you.

Bring your hands up before you. Tip your head in his direction, a half-nod. Smirk beneath your helmet, then beckon him towards you. Inhale.

Exhale.

But you're stubborn, not stupid. If nothing else the fall simply reminds you that Agent Florida is a part of Project Freelancer. If he isn't a challenge he wouldn't be worthy of the program.

Stay logical, Maine. Keep it together.

And you do, for the most part. Reasoning helps... until Florida's tipping his head at you, beckoning to you with his hands and you can just about feel the smile beneath his helmet searing itself into your brain.

A huffing snarl like that of a bull escapes you before you can stop it, but you don't charge. Your muscles tighten as if ready to spring, but you don't charge. Watch him. Lower your stance. If your previous tactic isn't working, it's time to change up. Crack your neck, flex your fists and say,