Judge Rico Dredd (
truefaceofthelaw) wrote in
legionworld2017-07-06 03:20 pm
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[OPEN] Getting to grips
Who| Rico Dredd, and anyone!
What| Rico's getting adjusted. Discovering sugar and telling people to move out of his way.
Where| Mess Hall, Observation Deck
When| Before Bodies for Rent
Warnings/Notes| Rico's an asshole. Warning for violence, fighting, blood, threats of bodily harm, and treating sugar like an addictive substance (i.e. drug talk). Will match formats.
[A: Mess Hall]
[It had taken a long time for Rico to get adjusted to his new surroundings. After the expected violent outburst after waking up, he was upset. Not because he was just faced with the knowledge that his entire universe was in danger, that Mega-City One was in danger. No. It was more that he was yanked out of his world by the scruff of his neck, and had a lot of schemes he'd spent time and effort setting up. A lot of fingers in a lot of different pies whose outcomes he was just waiting to realize.]
[But Hell, the only saving grace is that at least he might just get a kick out of all this. So he took the oath, if only for them to get off his back about it. Time would tell whether he felt like following it or not. But for now? The Mess Hall would be where he could get a feel for the social dynamics that run through this place. And he'll be damned if Rico Dredd never comes out on top. And he's hardly going to let a little thing like being dropped into a completely unfamiliar environment alone and without backup hold him back.]
[He strides into the mess hall with a natural arrogance, a swagger to his step that could be mistaken for confidence. Of course, with how packed it is, and how he isn't making any attempt to move out of anybody's way - fully expecting them to move for him - somebody might accidentally jostle him and his rather bulky and pointy eagle-shaped shoulder pad. If that happens?]
Hey!
[He barks out sharply in a gravel rough voice, in a tone that demands immediate attention. He cocks his head to the side, overhead lighting reflecting a glint off his black visor where his eyes should be. He crooks a finger, beckoning them to come closer as his mouth twitches up in the beginnings of a smile.]
You gonna apologize for that?
[B: Mess Hall]
[Rico is sitting at a table with his back to the wall, with a baton kept loosely in his lap, staring at an unopened packet of sugar in the palm of his hand. He knew that The Legion had different practices, different laws but this was really something else. He tears the packet open with delicately pinched fingers, spilling the white crystals onto the table, and sniffs. He takes off a glove, dips his finger in the pile, brings it up to his face for careful scrutiny, then licks it.]
Oh, what the drokk? [He murmurs under his breath as he pulls back, confusion and tentative excitement mixing in his voice.] They can't be serious.
[He starts picking up more packets, one by one, and ripping them all open. Soon, there's a veritable pile of sugar on the table. But if someone were to come a little later and perhaps want a sugar for their coffee or tea this morning...? Well too bad. It's all been confiscated. If you reach out for one, expect to be impeded by a black baton.]
Sorry. [He doesn't sound very sorry at all. Actually, he almost sounds a little gleeful. He's well aware he has very little authority here, but that's not going to stop him from pretending that he does. Also, he might have slipped a packet or two into his own pockets.] Restricted substances. Mind your own business and move along.
[C: Observation Deck]
[The Observation Deck. Rico leans forward against a railing, looking down at the view. It's mostly empty for now, and he enjoys the rare peace. No shouting citizens, no endless, pointless chatter, or explosions. He's been a Mega-City boy all his life, never been to space, and despite his best efforts not to be impressed, it still captures his attention like nothing else.]
[Rico feels the prickle of a stare bouncing off the back of his helmet, and working on an instinct that every Street Judge has - or at least, the ones that aren't dumb as dirt and still alive - he fingers the baton by his side and says out loud without turning around;]
You looking at me, creep?
[D: Wildcard option!]
What| Rico's getting adjusted. Discovering sugar and telling people to move out of his way.
Where| Mess Hall, Observation Deck
When| Before Bodies for Rent
Warnings/Notes| Rico's an asshole. Warning for violence, fighting, blood, threats of bodily harm, and treating sugar like an addictive substance (i.e. drug talk). Will match formats.
[A: Mess Hall]
[It had taken a long time for Rico to get adjusted to his new surroundings. After the expected violent outburst after waking up, he was upset. Not because he was just faced with the knowledge that his entire universe was in danger, that Mega-City One was in danger. No. It was more that he was yanked out of his world by the scruff of his neck, and had a lot of schemes he'd spent time and effort setting up. A lot of fingers in a lot of different pies whose outcomes he was just waiting to realize.]
[But Hell, the only saving grace is that at least he might just get a kick out of all this. So he took the oath, if only for them to get off his back about it. Time would tell whether he felt like following it or not. But for now? The Mess Hall would be where he could get a feel for the social dynamics that run through this place. And he'll be damned if Rico Dredd never comes out on top. And he's hardly going to let a little thing like being dropped into a completely unfamiliar environment alone and without backup hold him back.]
[He strides into the mess hall with a natural arrogance, a swagger to his step that could be mistaken for confidence. Of course, with how packed it is, and how he isn't making any attempt to move out of anybody's way - fully expecting them to move for him - somebody might accidentally jostle him and his rather bulky and pointy eagle-shaped shoulder pad. If that happens?]
Hey!
[He barks out sharply in a gravel rough voice, in a tone that demands immediate attention. He cocks his head to the side, overhead lighting reflecting a glint off his black visor where his eyes should be. He crooks a finger, beckoning them to come closer as his mouth twitches up in the beginnings of a smile.]
You gonna apologize for that?
[B: Mess Hall]
[Rico is sitting at a table with his back to the wall, with a baton kept loosely in his lap, staring at an unopened packet of sugar in the palm of his hand. He knew that The Legion had different practices, different laws but this was really something else. He tears the packet open with delicately pinched fingers, spilling the white crystals onto the table, and sniffs. He takes off a glove, dips his finger in the pile, brings it up to his face for careful scrutiny, then licks it.]
Oh, what the drokk? [He murmurs under his breath as he pulls back, confusion and tentative excitement mixing in his voice.] They can't be serious.
[He starts picking up more packets, one by one, and ripping them all open. Soon, there's a veritable pile of sugar on the table. But if someone were to come a little later and perhaps want a sugar for their coffee or tea this morning...? Well too bad. It's all been confiscated. If you reach out for one, expect to be impeded by a black baton.]
Sorry. [He doesn't sound very sorry at all. Actually, he almost sounds a little gleeful. He's well aware he has very little authority here, but that's not going to stop him from pretending that he does. Also, he might have slipped a packet or two into his own pockets.] Restricted substances. Mind your own business and move along.
[C: Observation Deck]
[The Observation Deck. Rico leans forward against a railing, looking down at the view. It's mostly empty for now, and he enjoys the rare peace. No shouting citizens, no endless, pointless chatter, or explosions. He's been a Mega-City boy all his life, never been to space, and despite his best efforts not to be impressed, it still captures his attention like nothing else.]
[Rico feels the prickle of a stare bouncing off the back of his helmet, and working on an instinct that every Street Judge has - or at least, the ones that aren't dumb as dirt and still alive - he fingers the baton by his side and says out loud without turning around;]
You looking at me, creep?
[D: Wildcard option!]
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He takes a swing with his daystick at the barrier to demonstrate, and it bounces right off, much to his mounting frustration. He seethes, because if there's anything Rico hates, it's being undermined. Fine. The boy can wait. He'll deal with the source problem himself. He flips the daystick in his hand, adjusting his grip, and turns fully to the alien as he bites out two words.
"Last. Chance."
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This just keeps getting better.
"You're at least a dimension outside of your jurisdiction. As far as the law here is concerned, all you're doing is threatening another Legionnaire." Garrus replies coolly. There's no fear in his voice, but there is tension in his shoulders, a slight bend to his knees ... he's braced if Rico decides to make a move.
"Or you'll do what, exactly?" Garrus asks, arching an eyebrow. "If you take a crack at either of us, you don't think that the dozen other Legionnaires in the room are going to come over and see what all the fuss is about?"
Because Garrus isn't sure how things work wherever this 'Judge' is from, but he's pretty sure that isn't going to fly here.
"Do yourself a favor and cool down before you make this worse for yourself."
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He knows that de-escalating the situation is the right choice, but anger at being threatened is impeding his ability to think of much that's useful to the conversation. Useful to remember, for when he's back at de-escalation training - how do you de-escalate when you're so angry that you want to see a person shoot themselves in the foot?
He does take a breath and consider things harder. "I know it's hard to adjust when the rules are so different from yours, but there are a lot of people here who can help you through it."
That's decent to have settled on, he thinks. Lots of people are adjusting to changes in their power and social standing here . . . just, not lots of people whose first instinct is to jump to threatening people much smaller and younger than them.
Kubo doesn't expect to like this new Judge the way he likes America.
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"I don't need lip from something that doesn't have lips. And don't make me laugh. I could take on a dozen of you creeps, no sweat." he mocks, cocky and confident. He takes several slow, deliberate steps closer, boots treading heavy on the ground, and comes to a stop in front of him as he stares down Garrus.
"And don't talk down to me either, punk," he spits out at Kubo without turning his head. His blood boils at the thought of the juve pretending to be understanding. "You think hiding behind that barrier's gonna protect you for long? You're next."
He swings his daystick up so it points just under Garrus's chin. "Just as soon as I finish taking out the trash."
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"Even if you manage to come out on top, this doesn't end well for you," Garrus warns. "Right now you've got an opportunity to walk away with a write-up. Take it any further and the people in charge are going to come down on you hard."
An appeal to Rico's sense of self-preservation, because something about him tells Garrus that appealing to his sense of decency would be like trying to push a rope uphill.
"Unless you're really interested in seeing the inside of science cell, do the smart thing and back off."
That being said, there's some not-so-small part of him that's hoping Rico decides to try and back up his threats, consequences be damned. Garrus may have only just met Rico, but Rico's done an amazing job of embodying every trait that makes Garrus see red when they show up behind a badge. He won't take the first swing, but if he has to defend himself he's not exactly going to lose sleep over taking this arrogant bastard down a peg or two.
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That was the comparison, he realized, that was making his blood boil. The Moon King had believed his own whims and arrogant pride were worth being upheld as law. This Judge did the same thing. Maybe with written laws at his back, but if there was a written law that said he could do this - then it was a terrible law, worth standing up against.
And there was less an excuse for it, from this man. As far as Kubo knew, he was as mortal as the Moon King had not been. Just another flesh and blood person experiencing all the trials and joys of mortality . . . and he'd still decided that his whims mattered more than other peoples' right to their own, peaceful lives.
He pulled out his omnicom and started to record the situation. It meant letting go of his shamisen, but he'd dropped the device before without breaking it, and he could drop it again if Garrus needed backup.
"You need to stop threatening us. I told you that's not how Legionnaires do things. Why do you think you're allowed to break my kneecaps just for already being where you wanted to walk?"
It was a little bit of a redundant question, particularly with all the witnesses, but it would get the Judge talking. And then Kubo could keep as many civilian witnesses as possible out of the Judge's attention. Better that no one else got hurt because of a fight he was in.
Not like the last time his village had suffered, just because he had lived in it.
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Rico keeps a keen sense of situational awareness, and twitches in Kubo's direction when he pulls out a device. He pegs it as not a weapon almost immediately and realises it's his communicator. Oh, great. Another one like that. He pitches his voice louder, because if he wants a show, he'll give them a show.
"You really want a lesson in the law, punk? You really think that's going to shame me? You're not the first cit to pull out a personal recording device and think that makes them in the right." He lets Garrus push his daystick away, because it's not going to matter in a minute.
"You were blocking the pedways in a high traffic location, having an unlicensed little sing-along. Somebody could've gotten hurt. Suppose there was a fire, and two hundred died because of that? There was a similar case in Plath Block just last week. Laws exist for a reason. Was I supposed to stand for that? And am I supposed to stand for the obstruction of justice?"
He flicks out his daystick by his side, and stands with all the confidence of somebody who knows they're in the right.
"I don't have the authority to sentence you. But I can arrest you."
And with that, his hand darts out and makes a targeted, lightning-fast swing with his daystick at Garrus's abdomen. He can tell that the alien is braced for the possibility, but Rico isn't afraid of retaliation.
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While threat detection isn't exactly as flashy as the glowing blue energy constructs, having an early-warning radar has it's uses. Situations like this, for example, where the sharp buzzing in the back of his mind tips him off the second Rico starts moving. From there, reflex kicks in and Garrus quickly shifts to the outside to avoid the swinging arc of Rico's daystick. As soon as it's clear, Garrus leans in and brings his knee rocketing up towards Rico's chin.
It's a hard shot - one that'll rattle teeth if it connects and buy Garrus the room to think, take a step back, and throw an energy dome around Rico to contain him until someone can arrive and deal with this.
"Attacking kids for nonviolent offenses isn't justice, it's an abuse of power. If you want to wave your badge around and talk down to everyone about the law, that's fine. Pompous and reeking of insecurity, maybe, but there's no law against that." Garrus snarls, taking a step towards the bubble. "But you don't get to push around people weaker than you, pick fights, and call yourself noble."
And, as much as he'd like to lift up his construct and shake Rico around like a snow globe, he's going to practice what he preaches even if it means he's probably going to get reprimanded alongside Rico. Instead of taking this entirely into his own hands, he pulls out his comm and opens a channel.
"This is Archangel. We've got a bit of an altercation down in the mess hall, anyone able to come check things out?"
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It's a struggle to stay upright. Grud, what was it about the chin that made every damn creep on the planet go for it? He runs his tongue over his teeth quickly. Good. All there.
He's ready to take the followup strike, maybe even to counter if he has his head screwed on straight by then, when instead, another blue barrier appears close in front of him. He leaps back, only for his back to hit a wall. The prickling realization clears the haze of single-minded aggression clouding his brain, and he sees his situation with fresh eyes. He's not just a dumb street jockey. It looks bad, but there's a way. There's always a way.
"If the books say it's justice? It's justice." No matter how drokked up that may be. If he has to accept it, so do you. Rico wills his throat and voice to work properly, tongue feeling sluggish in his mouth. He clicks into the comm, biting off words with a slight slur. "This is Arbitraitor. Cancel that request. It's being handled."
He clicks off, then hurls himself at the glowing barrier. He keeps up his assault as long as he can, but two hundred pounds of resentful Judge isn't doing much and he's aware he's on a time limit. Deep breaths. Come on, think! It's impossible to keep his dignity like this. He has to get out, because they are laughing at him out there and there is no other option, he can't accept that they're laughing at him, don't you understand this shouldn't be here -
He's suddenly, viciously aware that nobody gets in the way of Rico Dredd. It's like something clicks inside him, something he always knew. This is a truth of the universe. And if there's something in the way of what he wants? He can snap his fingers, and boom. It's gone. Rico is the center of his own, egotistical world, and what he says, goes. He breathes out in slow realization with a lightning spark in his eyes, dredges up that iron-clad certainty, and starts walking towards Garrus, through the barrier which is left untouched aside from a ripple. He grins through a mouth full of blood.
"Surprise."
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And is it hyperbole, really? What would he do if there were a fire, a sudden attack in this safe place? Where are the exits? Does everyone know where to flee, would his audience be in the way - ? How bad could that be?
Rico's succeeded at this, at least - doubt has wound itself into Kubo's thoughts.
But then the Judge walks straight through Garrus' magic barrier and Kubo drops his omnicom, leaping to support the other Legionnaire. His fingers fly to the strings and paper jets out of his pack. Five or so float between Rico and Garrus, spinning around Rico's line of sight in an obscuring ring. Another handful of sheets fold into paper birds, fluttering around Rico's ears with a cacophony of folded wings, confusing the sound of Kubo's playing as he runs to Rico's left, keeping the judge triangulated.
He might not have been able to stand up to America's Applied Violence training, but he does pay attention in Tactics classes, and his fingers are as quick and precise even as his distress, the possibility that Garrus might now be hurt because of him, leaks into his expression.
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That's a problem, and for the first time in this entire encounter, Garrus looks a little bit concerned about the outcome.
That concern vanishes quickly though as Garrus's foot slides back and he crouches into a combat stance, bringing his hands up to his chin. Part of him wants to bark out a warning, but if Rico had any intention of standing down, he would have stayed inside of the barrier. That blood-stained grin was a bloodstained promise that he'd keep on coming as long as he was physically able to, and if he wanted to avoid any injury, Garrus needed to put Rico down quickly.
So the moment Kubo's birds block Rico's line of sight, Garrus darts in with a hard right hook towards Rico's ribs.
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He might not be able to see some of Garrus, but he can sure as drokk still make out plenty of his lanky body. He knows that a strike was incoming and braces himself to take it, unconcerned with pain as long as he could pay it back with a vengeance, and smiling considering no matter how much it'll hurt - and it will - it still beats getting smashed in by a daystick.
Rico's hand darts down and just barely intercepts the hook. He normally would've dodged, but he doesn't want to risk being on the back foot while his vision is obstructed. And while the impact stings, the pain is distant from his mind, already compartmentalized. With his other arm, he swings his daystick forcefully at Garrus's midsection. Organs are organs, no matter how alien they are.
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Garrus is stepping forward to follow up when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the daystick swinging in on the outside. There's no time to move out of the way, so instead, he tucks his arm in across his side - trying to spread the impact over as large an area as possible to limit the damage.
It's almost an afterthought, but he also throws up a barrier to cover his side. Hopefully it'll actually do it's job this time, otherwise this is going to hurt.
That's why he has to make the next shot count. So he doesn't stop his forward momentum. He carries through, and with his free hand he ducks low to check Rico's chin again - this time with an uppercut.
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Rico snarls as the daystick bounces off the barrier. He hadn't expected the alien to be capable of such fine control over his constructs, and he wants to see blood now. But as unexpected as it is, he lets the momentum carry him just out of the rather long reach of Garrus's uppercut. And then all of a sudden, it seems like they're in the perfect position for some ironic revenge.
Thank you. Rico thinks, with an eager anticipation. For meeting me on my own level.
He brings his knee shooting up towards Garrus's jaw, with all the ill-feeling he has inside him.
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But Rico is damn fast, fast enough that Garrus doesn't have the beat he needs to put a wall in between them. Instead, he throws his left arm down in a wide arc, trying to push the knee out of the way and absorb whatever impact he can't deflect.
Even then, Rico's knee hits hard enough to send a shock all the way up Garrus's arm - a flare of pain that makes the turian grit his teeth.
But Rico isn't the only one who's done this before. Rico hits hard - harder than Garrus was expecting, for sure - but not as hard as an angry Krogan. It's going to take more than some admittedly very painful deep bruising to take Garrus out of this.
So he keeps moving forward, and as he advances, he throws a hard kick at Rico's outside ankle - one with enough follow-through to take the Judge off his feet if he isn't careful.
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"Did that hurt, creep?" he calls out mockingly, careful to regulate his voice so he sounds like he's barely exerted himself at all. The coppery taste of blood coats the inside of his mouth, and he spits it out on the ground. "You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you? Not too late to stand down -"
A paper bird flitting about the edges of his vision at the wrong time lets the kick at his ankle brings his foot out under him, but Rico recovers in time to land in a smooth crouch. From there he springs forward, jumping clear off the floor and barreling straight into Garrus's waist, bringing all his hefty weight to bear.
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That little bit of luck actually lands Garrus a pretty good position. Rico's in close, meaning he can't swing his arm hard enough to really put some force behind the daystick. Eager to keep it that way, Garrus wraps an arm around the back of Rico's neck, hopefully keeping him in place. He raises up his free arm and brings it down hard, aiming the point of his elbow at Rico's shoulder and neck.
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He might be too close to swing his daystick, but it's a versatile tool. He lets go of the daystick and grabs it again nearer to the center, and stabs it straight into what he can reach of Garrus's abdomen as hard as he can, repeatedly. Fine. He'll make this into an endurance contest. No matter what he'll be put through, Rico's determined to pay it back with change.
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One might not expect an oversized
man-Beetle to be stealthy, but considering that's his middle name- maybe one can be excused. Either way, there's a set of hands trying to grab each combatant and pull them apart."All right, you two, break it up!" He spares a glance off to the side, to the most important thing. "Kubo, are you all right?"
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He has to shout over his music to be heard, playing frantic as Garrus just gets more hurt in his defense. The guilt is growing like a stormcloud, too familiar to bear. He baited a cruel person, and someone else has gotten hurt in his place.
This fight should have just come to him. Nevermind that he'd be a crumpled, bloody mess on the ground, if Rico had managed to land any blow on him that he's landed on Garrus. No, he should have stuffed down his indignation, he should have looked beyond his pride, and de-escalated the situation sooner. Someone here surely knows better than him how to change a bully's behavior without magic. Maybe if he'd gone looking for them, someone else wouldn't be getting hurt -
His father is much more durable now than he was back in their world, but Kubo still can't help but assume that a man like Rico has a blade somewhere. And Beetle does have chinks in his armor. Kubo's birds disperse, though the flat paper continues to circle and obscure Rico's vision. His eye flicks from Rico's belt to his hands, what they could be reaching for, as he advances to be ready in case he needs to strike in his father's defense.
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That being said, the daystick still hurts like hell. He's lucky though, that the hits aren't connecting as cleanly as they could be. Aside from the carapace, turians are built a little differently than humans. Where a human torso is a relatively flat surface, turians are a little more angular, meaning that at least some of the force of the jabs are glancing off.
It wasn't pleasant, but he didn't have to worry about internal damage just yet. He had room to work, room to adjust position and start landing strikes and hopefully - hopefully put an end to this thing before internal damage started becoming a concern.
But then someone else - a huge man with some sort of insect-like armor gets in between them and starts trying to push him away from Rico.
Garrus hesitates for a moment, pushing against the big man for a moment. He wanted stay in there. To keep swinging for the fences until he's knocked that grin off of Rico's face and given the Judge a damn good reason to keep his bad attitude in check.
After a second though, he stops pushing and breaks clean if Rico lets him.
He doesn't feel good about it. He's not letting go entirely of course - he's going to pass this up the food chain as loudly as possible and hope it gets the attention the incident deserve. But he doesn't feel good about that either - he saw way too many people jump through loopholes and escape behind a wall of red tape during his time in C-Sec to feel totally confident with that option.
But trying to handle things on his own hadn't exactly worked out either. He's got the scars to prove that.
The Legion seemed different from C-Sec. Divorced enough from the politics that they can make an honest go at living up to the ideal. They were different enough that, right now, despite every instinct he has urging against it, he's giving them the benefit of the doubt that they'll actually handle this.
So he'll back off, put his hands up, and give things a chance to calm down. But he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rico isn't catching him off guard.
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This is quickly escalating, and Rico doesn't like the feeling of anything being out of his hands. So he yanks himself easily out of the grip, glaring at both Garrus and Beetle. Don't think he's forgotten about Kubo either, the irritating juve that started this all. Such a big fuss made over a small thing.
"Don't interfere. This is now your warning for obstructing justice," he growls to Beetle, but suddenly seems to change tack, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side. So that's his father, huh?
Rico had excelled in his Psychological Abuse classes as he did with everything else, but there was something he'd always found kind of neat about finding people's strings and just gently tugging, watching people unravel with just a few bare threats or comments. Rico finds it unfortunate that he doesn't have his boot knife on him, considering it was taken from him at the med-bay, but he capitalizes on the opportunity to twist the knife in a different way.
"Juve, do you want to see fat man here get hurt because of you?" he calls out to Kubo in a gently cajoling fashion, like encouraging a puppy who had chewed up a slipper to come out from under the couch. "I see where you get it from, but it doesn't have to be this way. You have to learn this somewhere, since it seems that your father didn't teach you very well. I just want you to cut the drokking music, come here, and take responsibility. "
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Neither man is held on to once it's clear that the fight's over, but Beetle still moves to stand between the two of them. Three? Two and one? It's kind of confusing here. All he knows is that one of them is still kind of sprouting his mouth off and that's not okay, because he's taking a moment and looking down at himself and is he fat, really?
-okay, right, business. He clears his throat, an arm reaching to ever-so-'gently' poke Rico in the shoulder. By which we mean it's kind of more of a shove. "Now, you, mister, need to get something clear. If you want to get to Kubo, you go through me, first. The son of Hanzo is under my protection."
Wait, didn't we all just establish that- nevermind."Second- what does 'drokking' mean?"
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And then Rico opens his mouth and once again Garrus is almost hoping for the excuse to pick things back up they left off. It's bad enough that Rico threatened a child and seemed perfectly willing to back up that threat with physical violence, but now he's trying to twist this all back around and claim that somehow it's Kubo's fault. And sure, the kid hadn't exactly helped calm things down, but Rico had blown past the opportunity to make a reasonable response at every turn.
For things to go this far this fast, Rico has to be the bully Beetle is calling him out as, hard-assed bordering on fascistic, or he just enjoys using his 'authority' as a blank check to step on people. Probably all three.
Whatever his deal is, Garrus has had enough.
"If we're talking about responsibility, I'm fine with that. Let's do what you should have done in the first place and call the higher ups - let them sort out who's in the right here." His eyes narrow pointedly at Rico. "Or do you have a problem with letting the proper authorities handle things?"
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