Jailbreak

It is not often that an opportunity such as this presents itself.

The door to Myiari's cell, the medic now separated from her friend, what remained of him anyway, slowly creeps open. Were the medic one to keep time well, she might realize that it was one of her semi-regular feedings, if not, the presence of a white-armoured being walking in, rifle slung on his right shoulder and a tray of foodstuffs occupying both hands.

And while the opportunity to confront an armed soldier is not one that many relish, compared to what she has seen in the past, the prospect of one coming in alone and not actually wielding his weapon might be a good thing.

Myiari remains sitting in one corner of the cell curled up on herself and her arms folded over her knees. She says nothing as the trooper enters, and fails to even acknowledge him outside of a brief glance towards the door before returning to her moping. As he approaches, she presses herself even further against the wall, attempting to shy away.

"Pitiful thing; you should just give up and talk. Your friend's about to, and if he doesn't then at his age he shouldn't be at it too much longer." The Stormtrooper's voice comes off ass slightly mechanic, a side-effect of the helmet he wears, although certainly an intentional one might to think if one considers the chilling effect. The tray is tossed at the medic's body rather than put down. "Do you hear him screaming? He might have made a good singer with all that he screams."

Myiari whimpers softly as the tray is flung at her, raising her arms to shield herself. At the man's comments, she narrows her eyes slightly, though there is still a note of fear within them. "Stop it," she murmurs feebly. "Don't...Don't speak about him that way."

"Or what, you'll do what exactly?" Even the voice transmitter can't hide the sense of utter superiority found in the Stormtrooper's answer. "Scream and rail and beg for mercy? You understand that he has begged for mercy by now, no one takes that much pain and doesn't. Soon, he'll either break and talk, or just break. And that's exactly what you did." The man's booted foot swings back, although the kick that comes is slow, as if even Myiari's reflexes are dismissed now.

"Shut up..." Myiari shakes her head and cowers for a moment, but in that instant, her demeanor seems to change, as if a switch had been flicked. Her eyes become cold and filled with rage. "SHUT UP!" With a loud shriek, she forcefully kicks out at the Stormtrooper's remaining leg, aiming to knock it out from underneath him.

That moment of underestimating the skills of the medic might prove to be the Stormtrooper's undoing. His other leg just about to hit his target, he suddenly finds himself losing his balance and going down hard. But he is a trained professional and already he is beginning to gather his wits even as he still falls, throwing himself back to get out of the medic's immediate reach.

Far away, though not too far, in a room with a large monitor dominating one wall of it, not by its size but because of the wall's utter lack of distinction, there are two people. One of those people, those two men, is seated in a hard chair right in front of the screen, the scene of the developing fight of great interest. "He understands that he is to make this as realistic as possible, even if limbs are broken?"

Not leaving the Stormtrooper much chance to recover, Myiari frantically retrieves the food tray that had originally been tossed at her and hurls it right back, putting a bit of spin on it and aiming for the man's head. Though most definitely not a killing blow, it would probably disorient him or knock him out even with his helmet on.

"He's an Imperial stormtrooper, sir," replies Brek, his helmet tucked beneath this arm. He lays a hand upon the table in front of him, drumming his armored fingers upon the surface, gray eyes fixed on the monitors and reflecting the specks of light within them. "We are trained to be loyal and able to withstand pain." He bites down on his lip, watching the fight ensue, folding his arms together across his white breastplate. "His name is Alek Telsinc," he comments, more to himself than his superior. "He came from Charentoth and joined the Imperial military because there were no other prospects for him." A bitter smile crosses his face, and only then does he turn to address Rainier. "He wanted to be a bartender."

Rainier leans back in his chair, his right leg crossed over the left. It is almost as an intrigued spectator that he watches the duel between the two. The feed is carried as near-to-instantaneous as can be achieved with modern technology and so he is not worried that it will not degenerate too far for them to intervene. "Is that so, Halsmer? You have spent much time developing a rapport with that Stormtrooper it seems. Is that your story or did other reason call you to join the glorious service of the Emperor?", why does he smile then?

Perhaps it is because the Stormtrooper takes straight in the head the tray that was thrown at him, the dull clang of metal on...near-metal echoing through the room. And while dazed, he is certainly not out as almost by reflex his leg is kicked out, this time much faster.

Driven primarily by rage, Myiari's fighting spirit is seemingly renewed and she manages to dodge the incoming kick with ease, swerving her body to one side so that the foot sails past her. With a mighty warcry, she launches herself at the trooper, hoping to tackle him to the floor with both her momentum and her body weight.

"I talk with people, sir. I find it pays to understand those you fight alongside. It may explain my strange opinions." He stares at the fight, the concern on his features displayed in stark contrast to Rainier's neutral spectation. One gauntlet rises, molding to his chin, a sympathetic wince crossing his face as he watches - and hears - the tray find purchase. "I still remember the names of most of the men I've fought with. Most of them are dead now. As for me... I went into it for my parents. This was over a decade ago. The economy was rough, they had no jobs, I... joined the military because it looked good, sir. They saved on not having to support me, I sent my wage back to them. It worked." He cranes forward to get a closer look at the screen.

"You are a good son, you should be proud of that. The Empire has at its heart a well-functioning family unit and it is good that you take care of them. But you are also a sentimentalist, work on that," Rainier replies before finally he shrugs. "But we are all allowed to be sentimental from time to time, so long as it does not distract from our duties."

The Stormtrooper at least gets a break, while his kick is dodged, with perhaps too much ease, there is one thing he has going, that he is encased in hard armour. And when one tries to slam into a hard surface with a soft object, then the soft object is hurt. Although in this case the slam is also enough to send the Stormtrooper sprawling on the ground, his rifle flying out of his reach.

"They're dead now," Brek observes, wincing again as he watches the stormtrooper go down. "I stay because it's the only thing I'm any good at, and because I believe in the Empire's capacity for good. If that makes me a sentimentalist, sir, I'm not going to apologize for it." His hands grip the edge of the table as he continues staring at the fight, scrutinizing it with narrowed eyes before adding, critically, "Alek's going over-the-top with losing this scuffle... He'd be a terrible sabacc player."

Myiari is relentless in her onslaught. Shrugging off the initial pain of ramming an armored opponent, she's quickly upon him like a predator to its prey. The medic violently rips off the Stormtrooper's helmet and then proceeds to beat him over the head with it over and over, attempting to render him unconscious. All the while, her expression is cold and marred with anger, though her features shift very little aside from a faint scowl.