Lessons Learned

[Charlotte Matsumura 0]

A Learning Experience*

LT Mark Garrison

ENS Charlotte Matsumura

 

_{(*Takes place just prior to the previous sim.)}

 

_***

 

It was one of those weeks. After the exhiliration of battle came the aftermath. Endless reports on tactics and crew efficiency. Damage surveys. Letters to relatives, and dealing with shifting the crew around, who nearly a fourth had their living spaces rendered unlivable by the Scorpiad. Mark himself had taken to sleeping in ten-forward, which was the closest available area to the bridge. He could feel the tension on the ship, especially from his own department, who held themselves most accountable for the outcome of that battle. It started with snippiness and quickly evolved to snide comments and borderline insubordination. Having to cram everyone into less space didn't help things. Mark wasn't about to allow the unleashing of a bunch of angry officers on Camelot, so he did what seemed the most sense. He let them take it out on each other. Nearly half the off-duty department lined cargo bay 2 in this impromptu sparring session. Challenge whomever you like, and leave the pent up urge to do something on the mat.

 

In a far corner of the bay, several portable heavy bags had been set up for personnel to warm up, prior to stepping into the ring. Freshly released from medical, Charlotte Matsumura stood before one of those bags, adjusting the wristbands of her sparring gloves. She fixed her gaze on the bag before her with harsh intensity. Finally satisfied with the fit of her gloves, she dropped into a sparring stance, biting down on her mouth guard.

 

It would be another hour or more before her station chief would be prepared to debrief her. Another hour. Waiting. Constantly...waiting. Waiting for the away team; waiting for the attack; waiting to be called into action; and then waiting to be permitted to leave the ship. A low growl escaped her lips, and she lashed out first with a front kick, followed immediately by a forward lunge punch. The bag shifted backward significantly with the force of impact. "Hurry up and wait," she muttered around her mouthpiece. She was tired of hurry up and wait.

 

She was also tired of the ambiguity surrounding her commanding officer. Nothing he did seemed to have a clear purpose; he seemed, at best, to be navigating by gut instinct or, at worst, by the seat of his pants. It was certainly an effective tactic if one was attempting to throw off potential investigators or enemies. But was it intentional? Or was it simply the way the cards were falling into place? Either way, it didn't seem the CO had any clue how he would handle arising situations from one moment to the next. It made loyalty very hard to develop.

 

Mark was watching the fight, and watching the crowd. Most of what he'd seen so far wasn't much to perk his interest. He was becoming curious as to who might choose him if their name was pulled, or who he'd pick if he should be so lucky. While Garrison had designed this event without himself in mind, the prospect of a good fight was hard not to get excited about. As his eyes traveled the room he noted Matsumura trying to kill one of the practice bags. She certainly had enough aggression, and he was curious as to her skills when put to the test. He smirked as he returned his attention to the fight. Perhaps luck would draw his name.

 

A few more rounds with the bag, working through some of her basic attacks, and Charlotte could feel her blood pumping. Sweat began to bead across her brow, and her heart was thumping strongly in her chest. She had not been at all sure she wanted to deal with the impromptu sparring session that seemed to be forming around her; she was even less sure she wanted to participate in the garish display of ability in the makeshift ring behind her. What she was sure of, however, was that she needed an outlet, she needed control. On Earth, she would have retreated to the dojo. There was no dojo here. Cargo Bay 2 would simply have to do for now.

 

With a thud the slightly bloodied crewman hit the deck. The crowed cheered and several people passed their won and lost bets. The winner graciously pulled the other man back off and they limped off the mat together. Mark had no idea if it had helped them, but it was a heck of alot faster then waiting outside Mashchenko's office. A few minutes later after the roar had dimmed Mark had moved over to a large box. The crowd grew silent as Mark picked a name, looking it over twice before raising a brow and addressing them. "Well, looks like it's my turn to get in the ring."

 

His attention immediately turned to Charlotte. "It looks like you're about to tear that thing off its mount, Ensign. Would you care for something that punches back?" He smirked at her. She, and anyone else, of course, had the right to refuse, so he felt a bit of goading in order.

 

Goading was something that might have worked...had she been anyone other than Ronin Matsumura's daughter. True, she lacked the overwhelming sense of calm her father always seemed to exude, but she had learned that falling prey to such tactics often led to a quick and embarrassing defeat. She could handle a little teasing at the hands of her division officer.

 

On the other hand, there was nothing like practical experience to provide lessons learned. This was especially true in martial arts. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time -- such as when a well-placed, well-powered kick landed -- taught one quick reflexes and better defense. These were things one didn't learn by sparring with a heavy bag.

 

Charlotte placed her hands against her thighs, bringing her heels together, feet at a forty-five degree angle. With the ghost of a smile flickering across her features, she bent at the waist, bowing to Garrison. Her eyes never left his.

 

He replicated the bow, and then turned towards the ring. He very much doubted that Matsumura would predict his judo like style of martial arts. He also doubted that she knew Mark had the honor of losing to Ronin Matsumura at a martial arts tournament on Earth several years ago. The father Matsumura had pushed Mark to his limit, for which Mark had no shame. It was only there that you could become better. By the time he'd reached the ring, a full grin was painted on his face. He was sure Ronin had trained her well. Now all that remained was to see how far he could push her, and how far she could push him.

 

Charlotte reached the ring, adjusting her gloves. The cheshire grin Garrison was sporting left her feeling somewhat unsettled...as though he knew the punch line of a joke she'd missed entirely. Her own expression was properly schooled: neutral -- passive, even -- with only the slightest hint of amusement. There was no way she would give her division officer the satisfaction. Swallowing, she fought back the adrenaline surging through her. Maintaining a clear head would be essential to gauging his abilities and matching his skills.

 

By now his eyes were locked with hers. Mark dropped into his stance, taking one last deep breath to steady himself. The crowd, having picked their sides and made their bets began to make some noise. All that however faded away when Lt. Benson rang the bell, signaling the start of the fight. They slowly circled each other, looking for the first strike. Despite his hot headed attitude, Mark was a patient fighter. He'd wait for her to make a mistake before committing himself.

 

Hands in guarding position, Lottie watched as he changed his own stance, taking a deep breath. She made note of that fact, filing it away for future reference. She also noted the uncharacteristic patience she read in his eyes; it was not unlike what she had seen, sparring with her father and Mal. So he's waiting for me to make my move, is he? A wry grin twitched across her lips. Eyes sparked with mischief, she feinted slightly, as though to jab with her leading hand and pushing forward with a short bounce.

 

As Mark watched her approach, and jab outwards he smirked. There was no commitment in her eyes. He had doubted her to openly attack on the first move, so he simply parried and side stepped her. She was fast however, causing him to take a couple steps father back then he usually would. That same cheshire grin showed on his face again. By now he was convinced the young Matsumura would provide an interesting fight.

 

She had read him well, she was sure; the grin only convinced her of that fact. And he had definitely widened the distance between them, making it more difficult to reach out with a quick strike. It was a smart defensive move and, once they were out of the ring, she would take it as a compliment. For now, it meant revising her own strategies a bit.

 

Pushing in quickly, closing the gap in a blink, she reached out with a snapping front kick. Not allowing herself to pause, she rotated her hips and immediately turned the front kick into a snapped side kick, aimed somewhere around the ear. Her hands remained up in a guarded position as she watched him, the same amused gleam still in her eyes.

 

She was fast -- faster then he'd expected. While he was preparing to parry and sweep her front kick she'd rotated and found him unprepared. The only thing he could do to avoid being kicked in the head was to throw his forearms up to block the kick. He managed to stop some of the momentum, but not without her forcing his arms to his head in a decent blow, causing him to stagger back a bit. The look of surprise on his face was evident but the grin only grew.

 

Charlotte watched him stagger, wondering for less than a split second if she should press her advantage. His arms were up slightly, leaving his mid-section somewhat vulnerable beneath some very pointed elbows, and she knew her speed had caught him off guard. Her first instinct was to follow through with another front kick -- it would have maintained her distance, while taking advantage of the brief vulnerability. On the other hand, she reasoned, he might be expecting another kick. Acting on near-instinct, before she lost her advantage, she dropped into a low front stance, pushing in. Her right arm rose to guard as her left charged forward and reached for a strike to the ribs.

 

Her blow was indeed powerful, but Mark had intentionally left his elbows up longer then he needed, and she took the bait. Rather then take the safe bet with a kick she moved in towards his ribs. As her arm moved in he grabbed the side of it, while using the other hand to push against her blocking shoulder. At the same time, his foot swung out and caught the back of her stepping one. With instinctual ease he pulled her leg out, and pushed on the blocking shoulder, dropping her to the mat.

 

She strongly suspected he was going to be a sneaky bastard, and was not disappointed. Still caught off guard by the move, Charlotte recovered quickly, breaking her fall as she made contact with the mat. She rolled instantly away, giving herself more time to recover and react. Arching her back, she rose up off of the floor, pushing off with her hands and feet, using her abs to bring herself upright.

 

Mark took a step back himself, allowing her to recover and set herself. His grin wasn't as large, if only for worrying about having a tooth knocked out now that the fight had begun in ernest, but he was obviously still enjoying himself. This game of human chess was finally unfolding, and he was very interested to see how she'd handle getting thrown to the mat. Would she become frustrated and press the attack, possibly making a mistake? Or would she fall back and attempt to give him some of his own medicine? He was very interested in meeting the real Charlotte Matsumura, the one who would show herself when all semblance of rank and authority were removed.

 

The real Charlotte Matsumura, however, had more issue with her pride than with rank and authority. She had taken a chance, revealing some of her own style, and it had come back to bite her. Past experience with her father rang through her head: "Don't focus on the last shot. Focus on the next." It was advice he used frequently, from the dojo to the archery range, telling his student to move on, not to dwell on failure or less than stellar performance. Taking that advice, Charlotte dropped back to a safe but workable distance to watch and wait for Mark to make his own move.

 

After giving her a few moments, Mark pressed the attack again. He paced towards her. Even as he closed in however, his posture remained coiled, ready to spring in defense. Always watching her move, he waited for an opportunity to exploit and use against her.

 

Charlotte watched him -- his footwork, his ready stance. He was being guarded, more so than she expected, and relying on her to make another mistake. Inwardly, she grimaced. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, she thought. It was his turn to make a move. She watched him with determination in her eyes, intermingled with amusement as she feinted, hoping to provoke him.

 

From studying her last feint, he was fairly confident this was what she was doing again, so rather than defend, he rushed the attack. With her defenses down he closed the gap quickly; he grabbed her arm, pulling her closer still. With the other he reached around her side, and as he pulled her in, he twisted and used the momentum to toss her in classic Judo hip throw.

 

Recovering quickly from her fall, her eyes narrowed as she regarded Garrison. She could hold her own with her father, and with Mal, both of whom she gauged to be a tad more proficient than the Excal security chief. So why did she keep going down quicker than an Orion slave girl?

 

She knew the reality of the situation: Despite all her training, she knew her father and Mal, knew their tells, knew their styles. She also knew that, in the field, things were rarely as cut and dry as they had been in the dojo. This would make good practice... if she didn't continue to fight like a bloody 4th kyu. Channeling her frustration, she ducked, crouched, and swept, hooking her foot just above Garrison's heel.

 

Not at all expecting her latest move, she had little difficulty dropping him on the mat next to her with an "Oof!" However, rather then seek distance again he grabbed onto her left arm, attempting to position her into an arm lock.

 

Grappling had never been a strong suit. It was, in fact, one of her short comings, and one she tried to rectify with hours of extra practice during her time on The Farm. The best defense, she reasoned, was not to get into the situation in the first place. That attempt had failed, and so now she had to deal with him down on the mat.

 

Garrison's arm locked down over hers, making it impossible for her to sit back and create her own lock. This was where her flexibility should pay off, she thought. Wriggling her foot up under his linked arms, she exerted torsion and force at uncomfortable angles to try and force his grip.

 

He grimaced as she pushed against him. Mark had a very high tolerance for pain, but he could feel his grip giving out. Rather then let her break it and have him at the disadvantage he released her and rolled back to safety. The adrenaline had really started to flow, and he had to fight the urge to press in another attack.

 

"You're not too bad, Ensign." Garrison decided with a mix of sincerity and sarcasm. The crowed seemed to think so as well, as he noticed the impassioned cheers and heckling for the first time since the bell had rang. "Feel like calling it quits?"

 

Charlotte shook her head, chuckling at Garrison. It was a fairly even match, she noted, thinking that they could keep fighting to a draw. Still, she wasn't quite ready to call it. "Almost, sir; almost," she replied, remaining in her guarded stance.

 

"Then forgive me if I don't hold back." He shot her a smirk before springing forward. He feinted a kick by raising his right knee, and when she moved her guard lower to block it, Mark punished her with a hard punch to the jaw. The fight had shown him that she was plenty capable when it came to technique, but he had to know how she took a punch as well.

 

Taking her lick, Charlotte reeled only a split second before reacting. With the instinct learned over many years of study, she pushed forward, reaching in with a hard, fast jab to the center of Garrison's face.

 

His head blew back for a moment, before he recovered and locked eyes with her again, now sporting a bloodied nose. Both of his hands grabbed onto her shoulders, holding her as best as he could while his right knee swung up and into her side.

 

Matsumura grunted with the force of the impact, realizing somewhere in the back of her mind that the attending physician this shift was just going to love her. She had to focus on getting through to that point, however. Bringing her arms up through his, she popped them outward, palms up, breaking his grip. She then applied knife-hand chops to either side of the neck, following up with an elbow to the sternum as she dropped into a balanced, wide leg stance.

 

Immediately, she shifted backwards, bringing herself back up to a guarding stance.

 

Mark staggered back, his hand gingerly covering the spot on his chest where Charlotte had struck him. He stared her down, and was about to attack when the bell rang. He nearly jumped from the interruption, and sighed as he looked over to Benson, who was tapping his wrist to indicate the time. He frowned as he met Matsumura's gaze before clearing his throat. "Alright people, let's pack it up. We have less then an hour before we reach Camelot, and there's still work to be done."

 

Eyes holding his, Charlotte drew herself to her full height, her hands against the fronts of her thighs. She bent at the waist, honoring her division officer with a bow. "Arigatou gozaima######a," she said. Her jaw throbbed with the effort.

 

Mark took a deep, cleansing breath before bowing as well, and by the time he was upright again, he had his usual aloof smile again. "You performed well. As worthy a challenge as I've had in a while."

 

"Thank you, sir...though it would seem each session always reminds me that I am forever a student." A faint, lopsided smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

 

"We're always learning..." He gave her a nod. "Actually, come to think of it, there's something I wanted to show you. Can you spare a few minutes, or do you need the doctor to check that out?" He gestured towards her jaw with a playful smirk.

 

Charlotte massaged her jaw a bit. "It can wait. Besides, now you've piqued my curiosity."

 

***

 

((OOC: The language filter strikes again: Charlotte is thanking Mark for the sparring match, using the traditional Japanese phrase we use in the dojo. ))