Description: After some time following Vega's fall, two men who stood against Vega are on the road to recovery. One man stops by and reveals some uncomfortable truths about the situation of one of them - and an order for them to report to him very very soon.
The staging camp on the Chinese-Myanmar border is still seeing a good amount of through traffic even two weeks after Vega's failed attempt to take over the world. Most notably, the hospital area (a large-scale field hospital located next to an actual hospital) is still seeing good business. It's early evening, and there is a lone young-looking man in one of the hospital's courtyards.
The man is wearing loose-fitting clothes, slippers, and a cast around his right arm. Zach is glad; the bandaging around his jaw came off last night. Using the pad to talk to people was starting to grate. He was told the cast would be off some time later this week, providing he continued to focus on resting.
So of course he is in the courtyard, practicing his left jab. He isn't using any soul power with his jabs; he is working strictly on his form tonight. The jabs are not even very fast; it's as if the psion is considering and absorbing the movement of every bone and muscle in the simple punch
With the base still seeing much traffic, men and women must work to ensure the proper outflow of troops and supplies is maintained. Not to mention all the other things that go with running a forward operating base. Captain William Guile, USAF, is marching down the avenue towards the courtyard (or the parade grounds depending on the day of the week), reading over a clipboard of information held in his left hand.
As he enters the courtyard, he espies Zach practicing said left jab. He studies the boxer for a moment and then nods his head slowly, "Good form. Are you rehabilitating it?" He takes a few steps further towards Zach, mentioning off-hand, "If you wanted to prove you could win a fight against anyone one-handed, now's your chance..."
Compare this to another patient of the same staging camp and nearby reclaimed hospital, whom has probably been out and about the better part of the day. It's none other than one Howard Rust, who is more or less all clear to go in comparison. It's almost a rush to get back to a daily routine, though some, er, issues, might be holding him up from getting back to Japan so easily.
First, it was laps. Now, it's push ups - and a lot of them. Nobody's really kept track, but he's probably been doing them for the better part of four hours. The noise one of his elbows make every so often is a pretty staunch reminder that this is really pushing to the limit.
It is the Kyokugen way, after all, to push for hyper-fitness.
He's either lost count or simply mumbling the numbers inaudibly, but after a certain point he finally comes to a stop and just rolls onto his back to catch his breath. Sit-ups are next, those are the ones that tend to get him, he remembers. He didn't get much of a chance to do most of the Kyokugen exercises and stretches through the war, and now he's definitely paying!
He doesn't seem to be paying Zach's training or Guile's approach much mind, but then again, he did just do a lot of push-ups. He lets himself be sprawled out on the ground for the next couple minutes, mumbling something else devoid of any intelligibility while staring up at the early evening sky.
Zach stops at full extention just before Guile speaks up. He snaps to attention, giving a passable salute despite the cast on his right arm. "No sir," Zach replies, failing to keep the grin off of his face at the suggestion. "Rehabilitation won't start until the cast is off. I'm just practicing a little bit. I was getting tired of sitting still." That much is absolutely true. "It's also pretty quiet here," he says.
He throws a quick glance over his shoulder at Rust, grinning a bit wider at his friend before looking back at Guile. "This is the quietest place in the area."
Not to mention the least densely 'occupied,' one might realize.
Nodding his head as he brings a hand up to return the salute with a snap, Guile smirks, "Good thing I'm not a doctor." He looks around, shrugging his shoulders wordlessly and replying, "If you say so. I'm sure the armor they roll through here every now and then is downright serene."
Guile follows his glance to Rust, tilting his head to the side and placing his flattop at a dangerous angle. He shakes his head with a smirk and murmers to Zach, "I think he's getting ready to take on the British push-up champion on their side of the camp. What do you reckon his chances are?"
"Maybe," Zach says pensively when Guile mentions the armor. He looks worried about something, glancing at Guile almost as if to ask if the Captain doesn't hear what he is hearing. Luckily, the topic changes fairly quickly, and to a friendly subject.
The grin returns, earnest and heartfelt. "If he is," Zach says, "Smart money would be on Howard Rust." Pause. "Sir."
His eyebrow pops up a notch as Zach mentions the man PTing by name. He looks from Rust back to Zach, "Howard Rust is his name? Do you know him?"
Something seems to occur to him, "Oh, not to change the subject, but I wanted to talk to you about your commission in the United States Marine Corps on behalf of Joint Special Operations Command."
"Grbgbghl." So grunts the middle-aged man with the, uh, dark purple thing on his head that can never really convince anyone is actually hair as he decides to just get on with the whole 'sit up' business. His stomach's still a bit tender after that guy in North Korea stabbed him with that sword, but, he doesn't take guff from his joints, he's sure not going to take guff from his sto--
He gets to one situp before the muscles in his abdomen really start to twinge in pain, and he grimaces as he simply stays seated up. Maybe five more minutes of gathering in air won't hurt... maybe.
Of course, now that he's sitting up and actually looking at who Zach's actually talking to, his eyes widen a bit. Could it be?
"H-Hey, Zach," he speaks up with a bit of a wheeze, voice as tired-sounding as ever and somehow forgetting his manners that this is probably important stuff they're about to discuss, "is that... Guile?"
Zach's expression has a bit of pride in it. "We were teammates during King of Fighters, sir. We're... friendly rivals would be the best way to put it." He is about to respond to Guile's mentioning of the commission when Rust makes his way over. Thank God, the psion thinks.
"Rust, this is Captain William Guile, Joint Special Operations Command," Zach introduces. "Sir, this is Howard Rust, instructor at SouthTown's Kyokugen Dojo."
Peering towards Zach, Guile gives a slight inclination of his head as he looks back towards Rust, "I see. That was a heck of a tournament as I recall." He shoots one last narrowed-eyed look towards Zach. Oh no, he didn't miss the eagerness for the change of subject.
Guile extends a hand to rust in order for the man to shake it, "Hello Mr. Rust, please call me Guile."
"Junior instructor, uh... actually." The distinction is fairly important - he is a green belt in Kyokugen, but yet they let him have the run of the white belts. Though, chances are he'll be testing for brown whenever he gets back.
Standing himself up with some effort (now that his ab muscles have rebelled, his knees think they have a renewed chance), he reaches out to meet Guile's hand and shake it with his right hand. His grip, if Guile decides to test it, may be found to be underwhelming considering the man's stout appearance and supposed strength. Possibly even disappointing, given he was the one man still found standing where Vega took his final stand in China!
"Sure, it's, it's an honor to meet you, uh... you can call me Howard. Or... or Rust, I guess, seems to kind of jump between the two." He clears his throat, patting his chest with his left hand. "'scuse me."
"Anyway, I'm... not interrupting anything, am I?" He tilts his head a bit. Guile probably /is/ here on some seriously important business even with the apparent fall of Vega.
Zach frowns a bit as Rust goes into a coughing fit. He caught the look on Guile's face. Zach is, typically speaking, not a coward but the whole thing with his commission is an uncomfortable subject. He hadn't even mentioned it to Rust /at all/. He frowns a bit.
"I think, sir, that we're waiting until I'm healed up to go over all the details," Zach answers to Guile. "As I understand it, it will make the veterans' benefits easier to handle." Sounds like the psion wants out. Then again, that's what he wanted since he got roped into the Marines.
Not one for engaging in the manly yet stupid game of 'I squeeze your hand and you squeeze mine until we both look like we're sitting at a hemhorroid support group meeting,' Guile simply shakes Rust's hand and nods, "I'm hoping you'll understand that I'm a little more comfortable calling you Rust." He tilts his head slightly, curiousity crossing his face, "You seem to know me, though. Did you see one of my fights?"
Guile turns his head to nod coolly to Zach, "Yeah, I guess it'd make it easy. You'd be missin' out though..."
"Uh, yeah, actually," Howard brings his left hand up to the side of his head to scratch it. It's not because of thinking up a reason for knowing him, it's more seeing that amazing hair suddenly making him feel slightly inadequate until his fingers scratch at that dark purple... thing... on his head to further delude himself into thinking that yes he has hair too it's okay.
"You're ah, pretty famous." He's guessing Zach is saying 'sir' out of some level of respect for the armed forces, so maybe he ought to be doing that too. "Sir. I mean. Sounds like that, uh, that I ought to call you... y'know, sir."
Of course, there's the matter of Zach mentioning veterans' benefits which seems like a total non-sequitur! That earns a glance. "What're you even... talkin' 'bout?"
Zach actually looks a bit sheepish as he raises an eyebrow at Rust. "What, he says, trying to sound flippant, "Did you think I /stole/ that armored vehicle I arrived in when we went in to save Chun-Li?"
Zach reaches with his right hand to scrub at his hair in an unconscious gesture, pulling the hand away when he realizes what he is doing. "The United States Marine Corps made a deal with SouthTown Police," Zach explains quietly. "They wanted my, uh... older skill sets for the war." This is said in a tone that suggests that Zach is /still/ unhappy with the situation, which is true. "There was a trade, and I got sent into Mongolia."
Giving a quick 'huh' to Rust, Guile shrugs his shoulders and looks towards Zach as he begins explaining. He listens until the end and looks back towards Rust, "Your friend is a Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps."
He looks back towards Zach, "By the way, I've got new orders for you. You're to stop calling me 'sir' all the damn time. You get all uncomfortable every time you do. Order expires in one week. Also, report to my office tomorrow at 1200 hours for lunch and a talk about your future in the Marine Corps." He looks back towards Rust, "You too. One week. No 'sirs'. But no lunch."
The oldest among the three of them scratches his head at Zach's mention about the armored vehicle. "I... I never did get around to, to asking about that." It probably would've been really enlightening had he thought to, though the mention of the 'older skill sets' is met with something of a frown - but it kind of brings the whole picture together, doesn't it?
"Second Lieutenant? That's... that's up there, isn't it?" That must've given Zach some level of autonomy in how he went about things, he imagines, though his musing stops when Guile starts to lay down proper orders. Though Rust is not formally part of the military hierarchy, he's quiet with the command.
"Uh... sure, si-- Guile." He clears his throat when he corrects himself. "1200 tomorrow, I... I can do that. After that, I, I better start workin' on getting back to Southtown." He looks a bit sheepish as he starts to mumble something out. "Broke my cell, and, uh, pretty sure they're worried."
"Yeah," Zach says softly in response to Rust's realization. "You get what I'm saying." He considers for a moment before nodding to Guile. It's not like he can refuse the order. It's lawful and everything.
"Lunch it is, then, Guile," Zach says firmly. "Though I don't know what there is to discuss. I'm not my grandfather. I'm not..." Zach frowns the looks away. He doesn't finish the sentence, though Rust undoubtedly could.
Guile nods his head to Rust, "Yeah, that's up there enough. He's an important and skilled ally." He then looks back to Zach, "And muckity-mucks in charge of the JSOC want to keep it that way."
He studies Zach for a long moment, his eagle-sharp eyes not missing anything. He frowns slightly, shrugs his shoulders, and replies, "Maybe you're not, but maybe there are doors open to you that you didn't know were open. Options you haven't thought about taking. If anything, you'll eat better than the usual chow. My wife froze some bolognese and I'm boiling up some spaghetti to go with it for lunch." He grins, "I think she's trying to get me home quicker."
He turns his attention to Rust, the grin still present, "I think it's working." He takes a deep breath and then continues, "Well, gentlemen, it's time for me to carry on about my business. You two have a good day no--Wait." He stops suddenly, looking back towards Zach, "The French are clearing out later today. I'd be advantageous if they cleared out a little quicker. You think you can take a run at them in an hour or two. Pick up any weapons they drop on their way out?" Great. A fleeing Frenchman joke. At least he has a killer haircut.
"Well, I'm... I'm not my mom either," comes what might be a bizarre statement without any real context from Howard as he tries to speak up in some sort of reassurance to Zach, although the exact context seems to escape him too. He seems to have more to say, though it gets interrupted by Guile taking immediate hold of the conversation - especially the eventual mention about the lunch.
Man, I could go for that, it's all over Howard's face as Guile mentions the stuff his wife managed to get to him. The man nods a few times, though he remains remarkably neutral at the mention of the Frenchman joke. He exhales a bit as he considers what it is he might need to be speaking with Guile about tomorrow. Probably a debriefing of what happened at Beijing, maybe, he wonders?
"Anyway, for now, I'd also better get back to, uh, the sit-ups." His stomach twinges a bit in pain in realizing it's its turn, yes it's your turn, Howard thinks. He's missed out on enough warm-up time that he /has/ to do it to try and make up for the slack.
"If I'm... uh, dismissed, I mean."
"Don't over do it," Zach says in a tone that suggests that he knows Rust will disregard the advice. "That sounds pretty good, actually," Zach says to Guile's menu. He looks uncertain.
"It's... possible there's things I am missing," Zach admits. "But we can talk about that later, I guess."
Guile nods to Zach, "It is pretty good. If you're ever in my neck of the woods back home, give me a call and I'll have you come up to the house for a few beers." A confused look passes over his face as he looks towards Rust, "Um, of course, Mr. Rust. Carry on." He grins lightly, looking back at Zach, "You too. Keep practicing, but take care of your arm." With that, Guile turns to begin heading across the courtyard and down the avenue.
Log created on 20:53:10 03/26/2012 by Rust, and last modified on 19:52:23 03/27/2012.