Post by ravenous26 on Oct 11, 2010 18:15:14 GMT -5
*He sits in the corner of the cell, keeping his back pressed firmly to the wall, his knees up. His forearms resting on his knees* ~"Guess this is why my parents tried to keep me from going into the fleet, months out of the academy and mauled by a targ, weeks into the fleet and already killed in a simulation and now a prisoner"~ Patrick would slowly move up onto his feet, using the wall to brace him as he cursed in Orion. Stuborn, loyal, ambitious, dominate, opportunistic, overconfident, egnigmatic, and while some confuse him with being quiet and reclusiveness however he is very calculating, with a temper that can lead to a very barbaric that he keeps in check. He choose to become a tactical officer because he loved to watch those around him, and his primal urges to use. Raised in with mix of culture in the midwest on Earth by a Boslic/Orion father and an Orion/Human(retcon) mother. After running off to the academy against his parents wishes, he viewed his new fleet as his great family, his clan so to speak. Are these weaknesses or strengths...To Patrick these are what made him who he is.
As he stood now against the wall for support his body was still in pain from the burns, his ribs still ached and it was this pain that caused him to reflect the most on the mission. He had thought he had a clearing; here his Orion overconfidence got the best of him. He continued to replay the events from last night through his head flashing quickly and then repeating…He remembered voicing his concern of stealthing…his mind had twisted and turned at all of the outcomes…As they made the dash from one building to the next his voice seemed to fall on deaf ears. He was in the rear guard position and as Ethan, Frost, and Gabi had made it across, it was his turn. His legs pumped and he sprinted over, just as one of the guards had just turned and before he could react. He did a baseball like slide just ducking rifle fire, then one group after another closed in on them. Patrick had never been in a fire fight that intense even in the simulator, 25 plus Romulans all surrounding their small group of 5. *Patrick breathes deep and stalks around, his hands clenching into fists and then relaxing numerous times as the anger weld up inside him, he could feel the beast he always struggled against clawing at his heart. The beast that wanted control, that wanted others to look up at him from their knees* He had no idea how they survived but they did, and he had the burns and bruises to prove it*. It had all been a blur, a flash, primal instincts as his rifle and orbs scanned from target to target.
But that was just the beginning, and the end all at once. He had just been given the order to check the door to see if it was secured. The mission objective just inside and then the ringing of the sniper rifle and his commanders scream had caught his ears. *He almost dashed out just then…* he says to himself as he remembers lunging forward and then pausing, slinging his rifle to his back and drawing out his pistol….His eyes had noticed that the Commander had been shot in the leg, he then saw both of the Captains draw up their rifles and then the first shot. Patrick had used this distraction to dash out to the Commander who was laying in the middle of the alley. What he had wanted to accomplish was beyond him, drag her to the side? Use his own body to shield hers? He knew not why, infact he barely knew the Commander at all other then a few small conversations, but to him she was still part of his clan. He just had this urge to make sure the sniper did not get a chance to finish what they started, to make sure she lived. Patrick had assumed the sniper to be a bad shot, had assumed the sniper to be busy trading shots with the Captains. Nothing more was further then the truth as the next passing moments proved otherwise. The sound of another shot tore through the air and his shields. Patrick could remember flying backwards, his body going limp from the pain, his already bruised ribs, the concussion from the earlier battle. Now the shot to the chest and the radiation burns that caused a pain to rage through his body. Everything was a blur, the sounds of shots going back and forth, and just then a second shot hitting his chest had caused him to black out as the world spun around him.
Minutes? Hours? Days? Patrick awoke, with the commander’s body still near his. As Patrick rolled onto his chest and pushed himself weakly to his feet. He had left his pistol on the ground at his feet and drew up his rifle. His orbs carefully assessed the area around him where the Captains and the objective last where and they were no longer there…There was movement coming down the main road, which was covered by smoke. Behind him was an open area, almost 100km to the edge of the forest and then to the left, the shelter of buildings, rocks, trees, but who knows what else. Patrick kneel’d down beside the Commander to grasp at her wrists and just as he was about to pull her to the side, three Romulan soldiers emerged from the smoke. His right hand grasped onto a plasma grenade, his left hand had gone to bring his rifle up as it dangled from its 3 point sling.…His mind started to formulate outcomes, tactics, strategy's.He wanted to drop the plasma grenade using its explosion and fire to give him a chance to make s breal toward the alley, past the rocks and the tree line. He choose an action that would be viewed by some of cowardice, others bravery...Patrick was wounded, slowed and it would take a luck to not be sent to the 9 hells. This action would also hopefully by the Captains time to escape with the objective, as he would need to be bound and secured that would at least give the Captains 2 more minutes, or so he hoped. More so something possessed him to stay at the side of the Commander, to make sure she was not alone. It was then he lowered his grenade, his rifle and nodded his head which was was quickly met with him being kicked down onto his knee’s and bound.
….this was not the first time for these traits to be shown by Patrick, he reflected back to the simulation just weeks prior, how quickly he went to check on Kara, how without hesitation he took control of the helm willing to lay down his life for the others on the ship to ensure they lived…was it weakness or strength? And as quickly as the anger had raged through him and grew, he was calm once more. A rather devious grin played along his lips as he could surely use this for the betterment of fleet. Here he could keep an eye on the Commander, perhaps be a bit of a light knowing they would certainly see some sort of hell while here. Perhaps he would be able to use this to gather any intelligence, he could and put to use his time with “SIS” to use…Somehow it, this craziness gave him a sense of being in control,the leader inside him, the dominate that wanted to break free…Orion, Boslic, Human and traits from them all good and bad. He could already feel the oil forming on his flesh, and wondered just how potent his Orion pheromones where. During his entire life, he ensured he showered twice a day and took a serum to keep his pheromones levels low, and another reason why he kept control of his moods knowing full well that Orion pheromones mixed with emotions could and did influence others around him, which was forbidden while active in the Fleet, but now he was a pow and he would survive, for he was no where near content dieing as a Lt. It would take a few days without his medicine, without a proper shower but if enough time passes, if I can keep a low enough profile perhaps it will be enough to get a guard where I want him, when the time is right to get him to forget his gun, or better yet send the fleet an SOS to let them know where we are...*
As he stood now against the wall for support his body was still in pain from the burns, his ribs still ached and it was this pain that caused him to reflect the most on the mission. He had thought he had a clearing; here his Orion overconfidence got the best of him. He continued to replay the events from last night through his head flashing quickly and then repeating…He remembered voicing his concern of stealthing…his mind had twisted and turned at all of the outcomes…As they made the dash from one building to the next his voice seemed to fall on deaf ears. He was in the rear guard position and as Ethan, Frost, and Gabi had made it across, it was his turn. His legs pumped and he sprinted over, just as one of the guards had just turned and before he could react. He did a baseball like slide just ducking rifle fire, then one group after another closed in on them. Patrick had never been in a fire fight that intense even in the simulator, 25 plus Romulans all surrounding their small group of 5. *Patrick breathes deep and stalks around, his hands clenching into fists and then relaxing numerous times as the anger weld up inside him, he could feel the beast he always struggled against clawing at his heart. The beast that wanted control, that wanted others to look up at him from their knees* He had no idea how they survived but they did, and he had the burns and bruises to prove it*. It had all been a blur, a flash, primal instincts as his rifle and orbs scanned from target to target.
But that was just the beginning, and the end all at once. He had just been given the order to check the door to see if it was secured. The mission objective just inside and then the ringing of the sniper rifle and his commanders scream had caught his ears. *He almost dashed out just then…* he says to himself as he remembers lunging forward and then pausing, slinging his rifle to his back and drawing out his pistol….His eyes had noticed that the Commander had been shot in the leg, he then saw both of the Captains draw up their rifles and then the first shot. Patrick had used this distraction to dash out to the Commander who was laying in the middle of the alley. What he had wanted to accomplish was beyond him, drag her to the side? Use his own body to shield hers? He knew not why, infact he barely knew the Commander at all other then a few small conversations, but to him she was still part of his clan. He just had this urge to make sure the sniper did not get a chance to finish what they started, to make sure she lived. Patrick had assumed the sniper to be a bad shot, had assumed the sniper to be busy trading shots with the Captains. Nothing more was further then the truth as the next passing moments proved otherwise. The sound of another shot tore through the air and his shields. Patrick could remember flying backwards, his body going limp from the pain, his already bruised ribs, the concussion from the earlier battle. Now the shot to the chest and the radiation burns that caused a pain to rage through his body. Everything was a blur, the sounds of shots going back and forth, and just then a second shot hitting his chest had caused him to black out as the world spun around him.
Minutes? Hours? Days? Patrick awoke, with the commander’s body still near his. As Patrick rolled onto his chest and pushed himself weakly to his feet. He had left his pistol on the ground at his feet and drew up his rifle. His orbs carefully assessed the area around him where the Captains and the objective last where and they were no longer there…There was movement coming down the main road, which was covered by smoke. Behind him was an open area, almost 100km to the edge of the forest and then to the left, the shelter of buildings, rocks, trees, but who knows what else. Patrick kneel’d down beside the Commander to grasp at her wrists and just as he was about to pull her to the side, three Romulan soldiers emerged from the smoke. His right hand grasped onto a plasma grenade, his left hand had gone to bring his rifle up as it dangled from its 3 point sling.…His mind started to formulate outcomes, tactics, strategy's.He wanted to drop the plasma grenade using its explosion and fire to give him a chance to make s breal toward the alley, past the rocks and the tree line. He choose an action that would be viewed by some of cowardice, others bravery...Patrick was wounded, slowed and it would take a luck to not be sent to the 9 hells. This action would also hopefully by the Captains time to escape with the objective, as he would need to be bound and secured that would at least give the Captains 2 more minutes, or so he hoped. More so something possessed him to stay at the side of the Commander, to make sure she was not alone. It was then he lowered his grenade, his rifle and nodded his head which was was quickly met with him being kicked down onto his knee’s and bound.
….this was not the first time for these traits to be shown by Patrick, he reflected back to the simulation just weeks prior, how quickly he went to check on Kara, how without hesitation he took control of the helm willing to lay down his life for the others on the ship to ensure they lived…was it weakness or strength? And as quickly as the anger had raged through him and grew, he was calm once more. A rather devious grin played along his lips as he could surely use this for the betterment of fleet. Here he could keep an eye on the Commander, perhaps be a bit of a light knowing they would certainly see some sort of hell while here. Perhaps he would be able to use this to gather any intelligence, he could and put to use his time with “SIS” to use…Somehow it, this craziness gave him a sense of being in control,the leader inside him, the dominate that wanted to break free…Orion, Boslic, Human and traits from them all good and bad. He could already feel the oil forming on his flesh, and wondered just how potent his Orion pheromones where. During his entire life, he ensured he showered twice a day and took a serum to keep his pheromones levels low, and another reason why he kept control of his moods knowing full well that Orion pheromones mixed with emotions could and did influence others around him, which was forbidden while active in the Fleet, but now he was a pow and he would survive, for he was no where near content dieing as a Lt. It would take a few days without his medicine, without a proper shower but if enough time passes, if I can keep a low enough profile perhaps it will be enough to get a guard where I want him, when the time is right to get him to forget his gun, or better yet send the fleet an SOS to let them know where we are...*