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Who: Wrath, Theon, anyone else who wants to be a spectator for this train wreck (Beverly Crusher, Paisley crew?)
Broadcast: None
Action: SS Paisley
When: About an hour after Theon's little meltdown

[Wrath is not at all surprised Theon didn't show up. Just confirms that Theon is an idiot, and she's not even that much more irritated when she has to depart the Iskaulit and head for the Paisley on her shuttle.

She arrives in style; full body armor, modified to her specs (which means there's a lot of pink), sword at her hip, and a length of chain wrapped around her chest from torso to waist. Thanks to Beverly, she's feeling no pain, barely even limping, and comes in with a relentless pace that might bring an avalanche to mind. She's also, perhaps incongruously, carrying a small potted plant under one arm.

Now, whether any of that sounds intimidating when coupled with the bright pink hair and the fact that she's barely 5'3" is a matter for opinion.

She's got a surprisingly deep and very penetrating voice when she shouts. Parade ground voice.]

THEON. I am here to PERSONALLY drag your wet little ass out from under that rock.

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[ Theon hadn't responded to Wrath's final message at all, simply shrugging her threat off as a bluff. Between the gossip being spread about him and his useless crewmates, his tolerance for these people is waning rapidly. He can accept that voicing his complaints to the entire fleet was a mistake, but problems just keep stacking up. He's already been kicked by his captain and gotten into a fistfight with his best friend, earning him the nice black eye that he sports when he shows his face. The camera ~~and my slow tagging~~ had hidden it well , but it's pretty obvious face-to-face. ]

Seven hells.

[ The angry young man who had been addressing the entire fleet just half an hour before looks sort of worn down and exhausted now. Arguing takes a lot out of you, but he still manages to give Wrath a judgmental stare and a sneer. ]

You're who I'm meant to be frightened of?

[Well, what would General Ravani do? The problem is, General Ravani is over six feet tall and people tend to take her seriously by default. But Wrath is not about to stop, or pause, because she also knows she's just as much of a soldier as the General, and ten times more than this snotty kid.]

Takes a special breed of incompetent and lazy to think fear and respect are the same thing, sunshine. But if you had the brains god gave a grasshopper, you wouldn't be talking shit like a onekid.

So let's discuss this on your level.

[She sets the potted plant down at a safe place, then gives the chain wrapped around her chest a little tug. It unrolls easily, down to her hand, the long end hitting the floor with a distinctive rattle. Her stance is something casual, calm.]

You familiar with the the chain of command?

[ Exhausted, but his senses not so dulled that he doesn't realize that's he's just massively underestimated this woman. He sharpens up real quick, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. ]

Oh, you mean that chain?

[ He gestures to the chain, punctuating his jape with a laugh, trying not to show how bothered he actually is. It isn't difficult. He's always been an excellent actor. ]

Or perhaps you mean the chain of command on a ship. Captain, quartermaster, first mate, boatswain, cabin boy--then whatever else is left. There's something all you don't seem to realize. A captain typically needs to show respect and be respected in order for the chain to work properly.

Illustrative example. [No change in expression. She looks at Theon like she's trying to decide if he's worth the effort it would take to eat him.]

Different tune for a mouthy kid who was going on about fear a second ago. But wrong. Your CO doesn't owe to show you fuck all.

In the MI, we called your type seagulls. Because you fly in, shit all over everything, make a lot of noise, and do nothing. You want respect from anyone serving? Earn it.

[She smiles slowly.]

Now, do you actually want respect, or is your little ass flaming because we're not cowering in fear of your dick?

What can I say? You've changed my mind. I like you much better now, but that has nothing to do with fear.

[ His smile only widens, smug and mocking. He's doing himelf no favors, but this is his defense mechanism. He smiles and laughs at all the wrong things, just to make himself feel better. ]

I was disrespected from the moment I stepped on board. Your captain is the one who should work to earn my respect.

[There's no point to talking at the moment, and she's not going to waste her breath. Wrath doesn't give any warning about this; she just explodes into action, with all the speed that comes from having synthetic muscle fibers and a fully wired nervous system. The chain lashes ahead of her, aimed for the neck, and she's ready to tackle with her entire mass--which is way higher than someone at her height and apparent weight ought to have.]

[ It's inevitable, really. Theon is an excellent marksman and an efficient swordsman, quick on his feet on his better days. This is not one of his better days. This is not one his better weeks. He's still set on smooth talking and not prepared at all when Wrath makes her move. The chain catches him around the neck, ripping the air from his lungs as he's tackled to the ground in an instant.

Still, as he manages to gasp: ]

An illustrative example?

[ His teeth are clenched in a tight, forced grin. He'll never give up smiling through his pain. ]

I do not intend to fight a woman.

[ Theon... ]

[Wrath laughs at him, because in the land of ridiculous statements, that one's up there. She digs her knee into his back a little harder.]

This isn't a fight, scrub. This is a lesson.

[She leans over to speak with quiet intensity into his ear. She holds the chain tight], but not so tight he can't breathe.

I don't give a fuck what cousin-screwing, ass-backwards universe you come from. I don't give a fuck about your precious little ego. And I certainly don't give fuck one about who you think you are or whose sweatsock you got squeezed out of. I've shit bigger things than you and flushed them without thinking twice.

We clear?

[ His smile is slowly turning downwards into a grimace as he struggles with her, trying to somehow get her off of him, but it's futile. The more he moves, the more the chain presses against throat. All the pain he'll walk away from this with is going to be caused by himself and his inability to know when he's been bested.

After a moment of this, he clenches his hands into tight fists and growls, hissing a response through gritted teeth:]

Get off of me and we will be.

[ Oh, that hurts to say, but he would like to be spared further embarrassment. ]

This is your one and only chance, scrub. Try not to fuck yourself.

[She releases the chain and gets off him.]

This is how it works. You work hard, you watch your fucking mouth, you earn respect.

I am Lieutenant Wrath. In what passes for a command structure in this shitshow of a fleet, I outrank you. I am the security officer of the Windrose. I work hard and serve my ship. You call me Lieutenant, or sir.

Captain Russo isn't my CO, but she outranks me. She runs a good ship and works hard. And unless she gives you permission otherwise, she is Captain, or sir.

[Wrath picks up the potted plant she brought with her.]

And this is Corporal Stewart. She also outranks you, because she works hard to replace the oxygen your scrub ass wastes by breathing and performing no useful function on a ship with limited air supply.

[You know, Beverly might be slightly regretting this decision if it weren't for the fact that Allen told her what Theon did to Bran and his brother, that he's murdered children before.

So, basically, fuck him up Wrath. Even Starfleet officers have their limits.

Though uh...]

What... exactly is the chain for?

Oh, it's just there as a metaphorical example.

[Bright smile.]

How metaphorical? I just... want to know what I should be prepared to deal with here.

[She takes a moment to think.]

It really depends on how fucking stupid he is.

[...]

So not that metaphorical, if what I've heard of him is true.

Um. Yeah. But I'll try not to break him. Permanently.

That would be appreciated.

[Pause.]

I can't officially condone violence, you know, as a doctor.

[But as a mother? She can look away.

Besides, she knows this isn't Starfleet and that this isn't her universe. There's no other place to send Theon, no rehabilitation, no psychologists. They're all stuck together, for better or for worse, and so far... It's been mostly for the better. But she can see how easily that could change, how the scales could be tipped, and how much Atroma would probably love that. Even if Beverly hadn't commented on it herself, she'd been watching Theon's address to the network. Talking hadn't seemed to do him any good. Perhaps a...demonstration would help.

At least, that's how she can rationalize it.]

But I'll be here if things get ugly.

Of course not. That's not your job. [Bright smile.] It's my job.

Don't worry, he's not the dumbest boy I've ever had to set straight.

Oh I believe it.

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