Exiting the sub, start again. Another run that risks the lives of all involved. Another run in this God forsaken hell-hole they call the Hadal Blacksite. At least, that's what it should've been... Until that HQ guy got much too cocky with his usual words. He sounded so damn... Arrogant and smug. What one wouldn't do to knock him down a peg or two... Hey, that's not a bad idea... Knock him down.

After another insult to the others' "competence", enough was enough. Marching back into the sub, listening to HQ's panic as the NAVI AI chose THE WORST time to NOT function. The way his voice cracked as he tried desperately for NAVI to function again, practically SCREAMING at the AI to work. Yeah, as if that would get her working again... Spoiler alert, it didn't.

The sub doors opened, the metal screeching in protest from several uses, the mechanisms creaking as it docks at the shores of the loading docks. HQ's after sprinting down there to deal with this himself, rolling up the long sleeves of that pristine white polo shirt, black tie hanging from his neck, swinging slightly with his movements. Oh, that could be a disadvantage... His greyish-green eyes narrow in contempt, but it's the right hook across his face that takes that glare CLEAN off. Blood already begins to blossom from the new wound, a bruise slowly fading into his pale skin, tainting it a disgusting greenish tint.

It takes him a moment to process, his headphones clattering to the ground with a sound more akin to a gunshot before HQ cops on. Fists fly, blows land, but it ends up with him pinned to the ground, blood seeping from those now swollen lips, likely from either breaking a tooth or busting one of those lips of his, maybe even biting his own tongue. That should teach him to keep that stupud fucking mouth of his shut. His eyes, even now, are full of sheer rage and contempt as he glares, eyes narrowed as he stares, teeth clenched and bared like a wild animal, fluffy short brown hair messed up and partially bloodied, the crimson liquid sticking some strands together. His pristine polo shirt is tainted crimson from his own blood, black tie all wrinkled and messed up, just like the rest of his clothes.

HQ looks PATHETIC, pinned by someone he could've EASILY killed with the press of a button, hand pulling his tie tight around his throat, enough to make his cheeks flush, tainting them pink, and the other hand fisting his hair to hold his head still, earning a grunt the more his hair is pulled. He hasn't been able to get a single word in, at least not yet. But who knows what this smartass could say next... Even in this PATHETIC state.