So how did the Pon-Farr of S'cha T'aihn Sadaann go?
OOC tl;dr He got beat up.
The emotionally conflicted Vulcan had approach, having been the first to leave the elevator. He’d find himself in a large cavernous underground docking sector. A large open space not far off, hovered within it a small starship. Clearly Klingon inspired, clearly still under construction, clearly some sort of gang affiliated warbird, and yet clearly not what Sadaann was concerned about. On the ground an assortment of armed, black garbed, ridge-helmeted thugs. The occupied with several varied tasks across the docking platform. At the center a feminine figure in the same black garb and ridged helmet stood, berating a Gorn easily two times her size. Latched to her back, an ornate bat’leth, Klingon iconography molded into the blade.
As Sadaann turned, gaining a direct line of sight. He would witness the Gorn attempt to talk back, promptly catching a disruptor-whip to their jaw, then a swift disintegrating. With the Gorn disposed of, she’d exhale, luminescent purple haze escaping from her orifices. Sniffing, she’d momentarily look around frantically. Suddenly, she snapping to Sadaann’s approach.
“YOU! You must be fucking stupid showing your face in front of me.”
The helmeted woman began he way to Sadaann. Drawing an admittedly large knife from her waist, as she stormed over. Only being stopped by the swift intervention of Sadaann’s security detail, followed by a careful explanation of the Ensign’s issue.
A bellowing laughter erupted from the Klingon woman. Several moments as most if not all productive work within the docking platform would pause, all eyes on her laughter.
“Okok… ok. I see what’s going on, and I totally get it…”
“You do?”
“Mhmm!”
She echoed, removing her helmet.
“You think you can just come in here with your little Starfleet friends, run that little silver tongue of yours, maybe flash a smile and I’d fall right into bed with you. UGH, YOU’RE SO…!”
She’d take a inhale through her nostrils, taking a deep breath before exhaling from her mouth.
“I’ll take the kal-if-fee, please.”
She stated, a newly emerged soft smile on her face.
“Wai-- the fight to the deat–?!”
Sadaann had been caught of guard by his mate-to-be’s response. Quickly turning pale, quickly being filled with fear, dread, and anxiety to name a few.
Metal against metal rung out, as it seems one of the black garbed thugs had used the butt of their disruptor against a yet-to-be installed piece of hull. Taking the place of the traditional ritualistic gong, from there it would only be a couple seconds, a couple seconds for K’Nere to close the distance between herself and Sadaann. An impromptu and spontaneous kali-if-fee.
Sadaann would be hard pressed to find an instance where he’d been punched in the face harder than he had in this moment.
“The gall… The audacity.”
The Vulcan man struggled to keep his arms squared and infront of his face. His body aching in agony, he never thought bruises could turn sore so quickly. None of that mattered, Sadaann didn’t care how hurt he’d be afterwards. The Ensign had a reason to be back on M’Talas, that reason in question currently trying to beat him to death and frankly, she’s getting there.
“You LEAVE!”
Another blow to Sadaann’s oblique, he’d gasp, his heart skipping a beat at impact.
“And you THINK,” A quick step forward, closing the already minute distance between the two, K’Nere sending her ridged head into the Starfleet officer’s nose. “you can just waltz back here… after five years of nothing-- think just cause its killing you, I’ll play along with your Pon-Farr. Runt, I’ll kill you before that sex drive does!”
What followed was a precise close-quarters dismantling of the young Vulcan. With the headbutt having sent Sadaann stumbling back only to be pulled back into the wrathful range of this woman. As if like a ragdoll, Sadaann was sent careening, throat first into K’Nere’s bicep. Gagging the kid, sending him not only to the ground, but into a coughing fit as well.
“You’re pathetic, Sadaann. You were a shit gangster, and you’re probably a shit Starfleet officer too.”
The young Vulcan laid there, enduring the verbal abuse. Getting up after a few temporary moments to allow the pain surging through his body to partially subside. Raising his arms into an amateur scrapper’s fighting stance.
“K’Nere, I…” Sadaann managed, through the wheezing and belated breaths. “I’m… I’-”
“If the next word out of you mouth is sorry… I swear on Kahless’ honor, I’m breaking a bo–”
“I’m sorry.”
K’Nere would give Sadaann a calm yet stern, almost mothering look before promptly storming over to the boy, grabbing his wrists in parry as he attempted to throw a punch. Twirling him around, she now held the Ensign from behind, by his arm. Without the utterance of a single sound. SNAP, Sadaann’s arm now bent awkwardly. He letting out a blood curdling scream, gritting teeth as he tried not to apply any force on the break area.
Sadaann now writhing on the ground, surrounded by the standard M’Talan peanuts gallery of criminals, con-men, and the dishonored. Watching from the ground, Sadaann saw as K’Nere paced. Retrieving a small cartridged device, she’d place what was assumed to be the mouth piece to her lips, and after a couple lapsing seconds exhaling a luminescent, purple haze.
She circled back to Sadaann, staring him down as he looked up at her. “What are you looking at?” She asked, irate, raising her leg. The bottom of K’Nere’s boot the last thing he’d see before being stomped into a partial-unconsciousness.
With Sadaann now beaten on the ground, a familiar experience, K’Nere approached. Crouching down beside the bruised Sadaann. Now, in a softer, hushed tone of voice.
“Did you even consider how this looks? You’re gone for five years and what brings you back is your… yo–” placing her face in her hands, clearly trying to keep her composure, “Shit like that can make a girl feel used, y’know?” Clearing her throat, rising from her crouching position. Calling for a PADD, once received she would toss a miniature PADD onto Sadaann’s chest,
“When you like a girl, usually you start by asking for her frequency info.”
OOC (Not so)Short story concluding I Want Him Back By 1900. Sorry this took so long @kermit .
