bakerstreet | Rocky theme

Rocky theme

Training & Sparring Meme

Step up. Show your skills. Mortal combat? Nope, a little less than that, but still a way to prove what you're made up.

Enter the sparring ring for some training.

HOW TO PLAY
● In your top level comment, let everyone know any relevant information or limits you have.
● Be respectful of everyone's comfort levels.

PIN: muse one pins muse two to the ground and straddles them while training together.
SWORD: muse one invites muse two to engage in sword fighting practice with them.
AIM: muse one and muse two go to target practice together (using any weapon of choice).
GUIDE: muse one readjusts muse two’s stance and posture with their hands while training together.
STRIKE: muse one aims a blow (via either their fists or their weapon) at muse two.
BLOCK: muse one blocks an on-coming attack from muse two.
ARMOR: muse one helps to show muse two how to wear and take care of their armor.
PREPARE: muse one guides muse two through some pre-battle stretching exercises.
CHALLENGE: muse one challenges muse two to a sparring match/actual fight.
TEND: muse one and muse two tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight.
RESTRAIN: muse one physically restrains muse two from attacking someone else.
FEND: muse one adopts a defensive position that stops muse two from launching an attack on them.
PUNCH: muse one punches muse two (to an unknown degree of success or failure).
KICK: muse one launches a kick at muse two (to an unknown degree of success or failure).
TACKLE: muse one physically tackles muse two during a fight.
DRAG: muse one physically drags or carries muse two away from a fight.
UP: muse one extends a hand to the fallen muse two to help them to their feet after a fight/sparring match.
BACK: muse one stands behind muse two while in the midst of battle in order to help them fight off their enemies.
ARRIVE: just as muse two is about to lose hope and become defeated, muse one arrives at the last minute to help them fight their enemies.
EXTRA: muse one hands muse two a spare weapon during a fight to give them a better chance after they break or lose their own.
WALL: muse one slams muse two against a wall during a fight/sparring match.
COVER: muse one lunges forward to throw their body over muse two and shield them from harm during a fight.
POWER: muse one and/or muse two use their powers during a sparring match in order to develop and enhance their abilities.
UNLEASH: muse one, while fighting with muse two during a physical confrontation, uses their powers in an effort to gain the upper hand.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(i live for a sparring scenario!)

[ Are you ready to be a student of the Demon Clan School!? ]

[Clearly an unparalleled master of martial prowess.]

[ full disclosure: i suck at fight threads. anyone else here for potentially sexually charged, definitely shirtless cool-down threads?! 💦

The Duke is a boxer (lethal) and runs a whole-ass brawling ring in underwater jail. ]

( bring it on. i can see sam seeking out someone to help train her in fighting so she can ...refine her feral fighting techniques. she also has violent tendencies so she might be looking for a healthier outlet of letting those out. m/f or previous cr for anything shippy. crosscanon, aus, assumed cr, etc; loved! )

[ Typical ethically dubious mentor character who enjoys pushing her students to their limits just a little too much. ]

[ Post Vol 4 at the least. ]

[Vice-captain of the Golden Dawn, a Magic Knight Squad who's notorious for being a potentially lethal poor loser depending on who he's throwing hands with--Specializes in wind type magic, as well as star-based magic later on in the series.]

[A professional hero. Mentor or colleague. Open to au, cross-canon, assumed cr.]

[When Kane offered to teach Corey how to fight, he didn't put an ounce of forethought into it. He never does. Leap first, think later, that's always been how he does things. If he'd had a thought past the beat-up kid with the puppy dog eyes he might have remembered more practical concerns - like the state of his garage.

Like many of the houses in Haddonfield, the previous owners of Kane's house had left in a hurry, leaving mountains of junk behind. The crap in the house he'd thrown out in the first week, but the garage just got cleared out enough to make room for his motorcycle and a workbench. The rest of it went on his to-do list, where it then took up permanent residence.

There's only so much he can do with that situation and ninety minutes. His cherry-red Harley, time-worn and weather-beaten, gets wheeled out into the driveway. There's no moving the huge old workbench and he doesn't try. Most of the time Kane burns up dumping as many boxes as he can and playing Tetris with the rest. The final tally is eight boxes dumped and... oh, somewhere between five or six dozen left to go.

At least he finds enough bedding and blankets to throw together under a tarp for a homemade sparring mat. Corey's got some muscle on him (from his work, Kane guesses) but he's still too green for training on any harder surface. With the last few minutes till the kid's due, he's at the workbench, jury-rigging a bolt-down anchor base to one end of a thick steel bedframe rod. Not paying any mind to the darkness past the garage's open door; noise he's making, Corey should find him no problem.

Corey or a pissed-off neighbor trying to sleep, either or.]

[Corey barely sleeps. He's too nervous about the consequences of missing his alarm. Mr. Kane has been so nice to him - the last thing he wants is to disappoint. The couch is comfortable enough, and sometimes he drifts off, but the sleep isn't a deep enough one and it's more like resting his eyes than anything else.

Rest is rest he supposes. It's something. And when the alarm goes off, Corey grabs for his phone immediately to turn it off. He stands and stretches and lets out a yawn, cracking his back, doing whatever he can to try and wake himself up. Jumping in place, shifting his weight from heel to toe and back. Anything.

He doesn't see his host anywhere, so there's a few moments of idle wandering - until noise from nearby catches his attention. And he ends up outside, meeting him over at the garage.]

Morning. [He tries not to crack a smile. It's pretty funny - since there barely was a night.] Need help with anything?

[Kane's used to running on fumes and making it work. Thriving on it, even. It's been a hot minute since he cared enough to, but Corey's plight gives him a reason to push himself again. With what's left of the coffee he made earlier at hand, he feels like the friggin energizer bunny. It won't last, he's sure, but right now he feels great.

He looks up from his work just in time to see Corey's silhouette framed in the open door, face shadowed for a moment by the ebbing Haddonfield night, before he crosses the threshold and steps into the light. The kid looks... okay, maybe not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but not about to fall on his face either. No more awkward ex-con shuffle either, Kane's pleased to see.]

Morning. [He nods curtly and his tone is cool, but one side of his mouth curves upward for a second or two.] Sure, move my arm there and hold this stupid thing steady while I finish drilling these screws in.

[A quick glance past his shoulder will clarify the situation -- Kane's prosthetic arm is literally there on the workbench, taken off and clamped around the bedrod at the elbow to hold it down. A vise on one end and a bench clamp on the other are holding the prosthetic itself in place, but the whole setup's no substitute for one good helping hand.]

Move your-- [He's already moving before Kane finishes speaking, but ends up freezing in place once the words actually register with him.]

Move your arm. Got it, yeah. [Corey, no. Don't ask about it. It's rude. Just do as you're told, change the subject if you feel the need to speak.]

You stayed up? [He settles on instead. Prosthetic is moved (he's so careful with it, pretending it's delicate like glass or something), then he's holding on where he needs to.] I could've helped with all this.

[Because he's already thinking maybe staying up would've been a much better idea than attempting to sleep for such a short time. He's not a nap guy. Never been one. They always do more harm than good.]

Lost the original six years ago in Somalia. [Beating around the bush was never his thing and the question's practically written across Corey's face. Best to just get it out of the way now and be done with it.]

That was my consolation prize from the jagoff who sent me there. [Looking up from his work, Kane's smile is thin-lipped and tight as a tripwire.] Don't worry about breaking it, the fingers are borderline useless for fine work but it's tougher than an old truck bumper.

[Once Corey's got a firm grip on the length of metal he lowers his head and hefts a power drill. For a few seconds the only sound between them is the tool's electric whirring, until the first bolt's in. His gruff voice cuts through the sudden silence.]

Gonna need your strength. [That's all he says before starting the drill back up again. Metal grinds noisily against metal as he screws the next bolt into place, and in the hush after his eyes lift to find Corey's.]

Or did you run those laps already?

[There's a note of dry humor in his tone, as if the question's rhetorical, which of course it is. Even if Corey had stayed up, he'd never seriously expect him to find the trail in the dead of night with no flashlight. Hell, kid doesn't even know there is a trail yet. Kane just wants to see if he'll get flustered at being put on the spot about it.]

Oh... [Corey nearly apologizes, but catches himself before the words leave his mouth. It isn't his fault and what good would saying something like I'm sorry for your loss do when it's apparent Kane is... quite alright without it?]

It's pretty cool though. [Is what he decides to go with. Seems like it's a safe enough option.

And he does as he's told, summoning all the strength he can muster (which is a decent amount, all things considered) to help Kane with his task. It won't break. He stops worrying about it.

When he feels like he's being looked at, he looks up and their eyes meet and he doesn't panic for once. Maybe there might be a little tiny bit of panic on the inside, but he's rather calm and collected on the surface.]

...I didn't. [Blink.] But I could go now? Like around the block or the neighborhood or...?

Right handy in a firefight, I'll give it that. [Kane admits with a one-shouldered shrug. The arm itself doesn't really bother him, it's just the pitying looks that tend to come with it. Corey's passing compliment might be soft and fumbling, but there's no trace of limp sympathy in it, and that's what counts in his book.]

Still, an extra set of hands always helps. [Offhandedly, like he's commenting on the weather. The drill's familiar whine roars back to life, sparing Corey from having to respond.

A companionable silence settles between the two of them as they work, the sound of the drill providing background noise. With that extra set of hands helping him, he's got the remaining bolts in almost before he knows it.

And to his surprise, Corey doesn't flinch when their eyes lock this time. Whatever the kid's feeling inside, he keeps his eyes steady forward and his head still. Flustered would have been funny, but this is the look he really wanted to see. Kane holds his gaze but dips his chin a fraction, like he's nodding. Approving.]

No, you did right. You followed orders and came straight to me like I told you to. [Fierce heat enters his eyes as he goes on, his voice rising.] Don't ever get too far ahead of yourself because you think I want you to, understand? Not to go all military on you, Cunningham, but anytime there's something I expect you to do, you'll know it because you'll have specific orders from me about it. 0400, report to me, that's an order. Laps to run, what the hell is that? There's nothing actionable in that! Only an idiot tries acting on that!!

[One blink, then another. The heat cools, and he lets out a breath, wincing apologetically.] ...Yeah, I absolutely went full military jacket on you there, didn't I?

[That comment makes him smile. It probably wasn't meant to be a joke, but Corey finds it amusing. Of course it would be handy - it's a hand. With an arm attached to it. (Maybe his sense of a humor is a bit warped? But eh.)

And then Kane goes ahead and makes it worse, causing Corey to bite back audible laughter. Nope - need to be on your best behavior, Cunningham. Quit it.

The sound of the drill helps cover up whatever noises he happens to make. And he uses the distraction as an opportunity to shut up and refocus. He's tired - borderline exhausted and still not recovered from getting the shit beat out of him the day before - and delirious. Probably. This whole situation a rather strange one once his mind wanders enough to start thinking about it.]

Uh. Yeah. [The slightest nod.] Yeah, you did. But - [the slightest hesitation] - 0400. I'll be sure to report then. Promise.

[He wasn't a huge fan of the way Kane's voice began to rise and grow in intensity throughout all that. But at least it wasn't how his mother gets, all loud and shrill and truly unbearable.

He found it difficult to maintain eye contact, to stop from hunching and trying to curl up into himself. At first, anyway. His fight or flight is triggered and then disabled soon enough.]

I'll listen better too.

[Having only known him for a few days, Corey can't possibly know how much he's tempting fate with that smile. Kane's been more mercurial since coming to Haddonfield - from the wrong face, that smile might have easily prompted a violently-swung fist. From Corey, he just hums agreeably and continues working.

That cut-off snort of a laugh earns a sideways glance from Kane, stone-faced except for his lips, which twitch just a tad, almost imperceptibly. Corey's right, he wasn't deliberately joking. His sense of humor leans towards the gallows, and he's used to keeping a lid on it for that reason, but this time it slipped out before he had a chance to catch it. And hey, wouldn't you know, the kid's humor is a little bent too.

Having a task to occupy his hands (well, just the one - other's still out on break) keeps him from thinking too much about anything. Work's good for that. So's running, in his experience.]

I'll try to dial it back. [His good hand rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.] Just -- Once upon a time, that idiot was me. [A short, sheepish laugh.] That's how I learned what orders are for. They keep your boots on solid ground.

[It'd taken that kind of strict discipline (plus the hard knocks of experience) for him to learn anything at all. But Corey's not him. His head doesn't seem to be quite as hard.

He gets up from the stool he was on, leaves his project on the workbench, digs around underneath it. He comes back up with a chilled water bottle and offers it over.]

Just a swallow or two. Any more than that and it'll come right back up on the trail.

[That bleak sense of humor - just something they have in common. Corey never used to joke about these sort of things. Didn't even like scary movies. But then Halloween night happened and he did what he could to adapt.]

You're good. [The slightest shrug as he thinks out loud.] Discipline is discipline. Maybe that's why I'm such a quitter. No one to hold me accountable, y'know?

[The intensity is a bit much. But it's nowhere near as bad as Joan can get. So Corey's about as fine with it as he can be.]

Okay. [A nod of understanding as he takes the bottle. It's freezing cold and Corey's tempted to drink more than advised (to help him wake up more with the chill), but he only takes the two sips. Then the cap is screwed back on and the bottle handed back to Kane. He wipes the condensation on his hand across his forehead. That's nice enough.]

[If there was ever a time when his humor was cleaner, Kane can't remember it. When he was still in school, maybe. Mostly he'd been gawky then, a boy who grew too big too fast. Life took a sharp swerve after his folks died, though. Maybe his humor swerved with it.]

Quitting's easy when it's just you. [An affirming tilt of his head.] You ever think about quitting on me, though, just remember I can throw you over my shoulder and haul you back here. One-handed.

[His stare's that deadpan Corey's seen from him before: none of Joan Cunningham's wide-eyed mania, just narrowed eyes and a steely focus so sharp it could cut with a glance.

At least until Corey nods, and then he eases up on it, letting his face relax as the kid drinks and taking the bottle nonchalantly back from him when he's done.] You ready then? [Then, before he can even answer.] Oh, wait -- one more thing we'll need.

[Heading back to his workbench, Kane puts the bottle back in the cooler and starts rummaging through drawers. After the third try, he pulls out his spare headlamp and lobs it over his shoulder to Corey.]

Battery oughta be new on that, but check it just in case. [He's already following his own advice, pulling the straps of an identical headlamp over his own head and thumbing its switches. The LED clicks to life, shining first a mild red and then a blazing white that he's careful to aim at the garage's other end.]

You ever done any trail running? Or night running?

See, that's why I'm not gonna do that. [Kane might be serious as a heart attack about it, but Corey's unable to stop himself from laughing. There are attempts to stifle it, and they sorta work, but yeah. Consider himself comfortable enough around his new... coach? Coach works.]

Ready as I'll ever be, yeah! [He sounds so excited about it. Bless.

Corey's reflexes could use some work - he nearly misses the lamp. Too startled by the sudden object being thrown his way. But he catches it, wincing only slightly from the pain in his bandaged hand. At least he didn't put most of the strain on it.]

Nope. Can't say I have. [He busies himself with checking the batteries, nearly blinding himself in the process (typical). But he follows example and gets all set up.]

Good call. [He still sounds dead serious but his eyes scrunch at the corners, like he's trying really hard to hold back a smile. Maybe he is. It's good to hear Corey accept the importance of discipline, but it's just as important to see he can still laugh. Kane wants to build him up, not turn him into a robot.

He's got to turn away to hide his smile at that yeah!, though. Too much eager puppy energy there for even him to keep a straight face.

Even while fiddling with his lamp, Kane's paying close enough attention to notice when Corey barely catches his own. Those slow reflexes don't bother him - they'll improve with time and training - but that barely-perceptible wince is another matter. He makes a mental note to check that hand before letting Corey move on to any combat training.]

Trail running's harder than road running and night running's harder than day running. [He explains while grabbing his prosthetic arm from where Corey set it and shoving it into place.] Terrain's more varied, visibility's more limited, you've really got to mind your surroundings. Especially your feet.

[Rotating his reattached arm in its socket, Kane tilts his head forward and shines his lamp along the ground to demonstrate.] You'll want to do this a bunch, there's lots of roots on the trail. Any noise you make will echo, that's normal. You'll also hear rustling as you go, but don't let it scare you. Scariest things out there are skunks.

[He ticks off the points as he goes with his fingers and pauses to think of anything he may have forgotten. Satisfied, he lets his hand drop.]

That's -- yeah, that should be everything. Follow me. [He leads the way into his backyard and stops at the edge where grass gives way to woods, head bobbing as his lamp illuminates the path ahead. The trail is slightly overgrown but if Corey looks closely he'll see bootprints in the dried mud that are exactly Kane's size.]

I'll be with you this time, so all you'll have to do is follow my light and watch your feet. Got it? All right, let's go!

[Kane starts off down the trail at an easy pace, wanting to gauge how well Corey can keep up with him. The clouds and the tree cover blot out the sky above, and the garage's faint light is swiftly left behind them, leaving their headlamps the only lights in a pitch-black darkness.]

[Corey's a jumbled up mess of tired and achy and nervous and excited. Of course his reflexes are off. His everything is off. Hopefully he'll straighten out and toughen up over time. That's the overall goal here.

While Kane briefs him on the trail-running agenda, Corey nods to show his understanding every now and then. Doing his best to retain the deluge of information. Trying not to worry about tripping and falling on his face. (Also trying not to stare too much as Kane gets himself situated, attaches his arm again.) There's a huge chance it might happen - and he wouldn't be surprised by that in the slightest - but he would rather go without.

This would be so much easier if the sun were up. But the last thing he wants to do is open his mouth and complain, so he doesn't. He knows better by now.]

Follow your light and watch my feet. [A final, solemn nod. Suddenly super serious and determined - or at least faking it until he makes it reality. He squints in the extremely low light, tries adjusting to the illuminations from their head lamps. This is certainly going to take some getting used to.] Got it.

[He lets Kane take the lead, waiting a few beats before following behind him. Slow and steady, that's what he's always believed. He's never been on this trail before and can barely see. Kane's been here before - plenty of times judging by the bootprints - so he has a hometown advantage.]

[Kane's got it together in a way he hasn't felt in months. Years, maybe. He's wide awake, almost wired with a renewed sureness, a sense of the world falling into order. The muddy haze of Haddonfield life clears, narrowing possibility down to a single point: get Corey from here, where he is, to there, where he wants to be.

Just from the way the kid's staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted, Kane can see Corey's struggling to take everything he's hearing in. It's too much too soon, but just like the time, that's by design. Anybody can Google up the Lost River nature trail and fall in with one of the morning boomer crews there. (Well, anybody that isn't Corey Cunningham) That's the easy path, and it might make Corey fit - but it would never make him strong.

There's an economy of motion to Kane's reattached arm as he rummages that demonstrates he's perfectly in control of it, and yet the limb never appears stiff. He simply makes every movement count.]

You've got this. [An encouraging slap to the back before he turns his attention to the trail ahead, studying the ground intently, then looking to the canopy above. About five thousand bobcats call Illinois home, and while Kane's never seen a one yet (and thus sees no need to scare Corey needlessly by telling him), he always keeps an eye out for them. Just in case.]

Root! [He calls back to Corey as he clears the first raised root in the trail, the narrow yellow beam of his lamp plunging down and then back up again as the word echoes through the trees. He doesn't even need to look, he's run this trail so many times he can do it from muscle memory alone, but he illuminates this first obstacle for Corey's sake.

Time to kick it up a notch. Without a word of warning, his footfalls start to grow faster and his strides longer. Another root's up ahead, and he calls it too, but he won't call the next one. He wants to see if Corey's watching his feet like he was instructed to.]

[Nature trails? Does Corey look like the kind of guy who researches nature trails? Or the type of person who even leaves the house except for work? Not really. All of this is incredibly new to him. And yes, it's overwhelming. But he's doing his best. Bobcats aren't even the seed of a thought inside his mind, and perhaps that's for the better.

Corey's watching his feet, most definitely, but maybe it's with too much intent. His eyesight without his glasses isn't the best to begin with (but lately it's been... changing somewhat?) and it's dark out here. So he's squinting along his way, trying to keep his steps light just in case he gets snagged by a root or something.

Speaking of--]

Thanks! [He calls in return, shifting his attention to ensure he avoids tripping. The help is much appreciated, and he's relieved to avoid the trouble.

His pace is still rather slow by comparison, and he doesn't notice Kane is speeding up until there's quite the distance between them. He tries not to panic too noticeably - rushing will only lead to mistakes, and he doesn't want to wipe out in front of this guy.

The second root is jumped over, and he's huffing to himself as his pulse thuds in his temples and his heart feels like it's going to burst through his chest. Maybe he's pushing too hard too quickly? But he needs to keep up. Just keep breathing and doing your best.]

[Honestly, Corey looks like the kind of guy who wouldn't leave the house at all if he didn't have to. Kane noticed that when he first laid eyes on him. Sallow from too much indoors, dressed in clothes years out of style. But it hadn't come as any surprise. Where else in this town could Cunningham go? The guy wasn't a born recluse, he'd been made one.

Kane's gut told him that he could draw Corey out of that shell, and so far he's seen no reason to doubt it. Even after the headlamp beam behind him is almost out of sight, he can still make out the dimly thumping tread behind him. That tread doesn't falter, even after hitting the point where his pace had to bring him to that second root.

He smiles to himself in the dark as he clears an old tree branch, and only later will he realize his mistake. Unseen in the dark around him, a pair of yellow eyes watch him as he goes.

When Corey closes in on that branch in the trail, a branch large enough to need jumping or climbing over, a a spine-chilling growl from just behind him warns him not to go any further - or make any sudden movements at all, really. A bobcat in the daylight isn't usually a fearsome sight, but its abrupt appearance in such close quarters would give even Kane pause.

And it doesn't like Corey. Not one bit. Maybe it's something in his breath or something in his scent, but whatever it is, the bobcat that's got him cornered lowers its body into a quick crouch, ears pinned back and fangs bared. It's not too much bigger than a fat housecat, but there's no cat hiss on Earth as threatening as the low, throaty snarls it makes.

Up ahead on the trail, those sounds still carry through the trees. Kane skids to a sudden stop at the first growl, breath hitching in his throat.]

Corey? [He calls back, cautiously, hoping he heard wrong. A fusillade of snarls kills that hope stone dead, and his hands ball into fists.

No caution this time. Kane's voice rises to a roar to match the bobcat's growl.] COREY!

[He pounds back down the trail, putting everything he's got into it now. A cold part of his mind takes over. Steady, Garrison - if you spook that cat going in, the kid's as good as mauled.]

[The sound catches him unaware, breaking his concentration mid-jump. And Corey ends up clipping the root with his sneaker - not quite clearing, missing it by that much - arms flailing a bit as he tumbles to the ground. Sorely disappointed at first, but the panic sets in once he hears that sound again. It's much closer and nastier than before and he doesn't like it one bit.

His reaction time might've been slow back in the garage, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the run is enough to kick some of his instincts into gear. Before he hits the ground he manages to tuck his arms and legs in so he can roll. There's the dullest throb in his ankle where foot connected with tree, and he doesn't want to do much more damage.

It all happens so quickly - literal seconds - but to Corey it seems like moving in slow-motion until his side hits the ground. Then he's breaking out of his stunned state, scrambling for something at his back, under his jacket. Fishing around blindly in the dark.]

[Freshly dead leaves crunch under Kane's boots as he yells loudly for both Corey and the bobcat to hear. With long-practiced reflexes he pulls a pistol out from the holster under his shirt - the one that goes everywhere he goes. He's breathing hard from adrenaline and sheer fucking shock, but his hands are steady. Not warning Corey was a mistake. He won't make another.

The bobcat meanwhile leaps nimbly onto the fallen branch Corey almost made it cleanly over, yellow eyes reflecting the glow from Kane's fast-approaching headlamp. Crouching over the prone young man on the ground and hissing from deep in its throat, the animal's haunches bunch as it gathers itself to attack.

He sees it - in one fluid motion stopping where he stands, planting his feet in a shooting stance, and training his light and gun both on the target. It doesn't even look his way. Taking aim, Kane's mouth sets in a grim line as his finger tightens on the trigger. Man and animal both move at the same violent instant - Kane firing, the bobcat pouncing.

Kane's shot catches the bobcat in mid-leap but somehow it keeps going, driven forward by momentum and whatever dark frenzy's possessed it almost unchecked by the force of a bullet which by all logic should have thrown it back several feet at least. With an eerily human scream the mortally wounded creature crashes squarely down on Corey, limbs splayed and twitching but trying even in its death throes to sink its fangs into the soft flesh of his neck.]

[The bullet doesn't stop the animal, but it does manage to slow it down some. At least that's the illusion that's cast. Perhaps it's still a result of everything running in slow motion for him? The sound of the gun barely registers with Corey - his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears and he's running off of pure adrenaline as he snatches the knife he keeps in his waistband after a few failed attempts.

Only once he's gripping the weapon by its handle does he roll onto his back. Just as the bobcat is lunging straight for him from above. And he finishes off the crazed animal without a second thought, the rather large blade glinting in the low light as it sinks in as deep as it can go. The sound the bobcat makes is terrible, causing him to flinch, but he doesn't let up until the thing stops moving. Then he shoves it off of him, blood soaked down his front.

He doesn't say a word as he sits up. Visibly shaken, but still retrieving the knife and cleaning it off on his shirt a few moments after.]

[A strangled sound, somewhere between a curse and a hiss of dismay, escapes Kane's throat as his shot his the mark and still fails to stop the raging bobcat out for Corey's blood. It's still alive, it's on top of the kid now, and he can't shoot it without a chance of hitting the much larger body pinned underneath it.

Heedless of the danger, Kane charges into the fray hoping to save as much of Corey as he can. It's a futile effort and he knows it; he's too far away to help now and the issue of whether Corey lives or dies is going to be decided in the next couple of seconds.

It doesn't even take that long. Corey's familiar shape hits the dirt, and -- in its place, another one rises.

Catching himself mid-charge, his breath hitching at the silver flash of a knife in Corey's hands, Kane can only watch incredulously as the kid he thought he knew stabs a pigsticker Kane didn't even know he had straight into the thrashing animal's body. No trace of hesitation about it. The bobcat's yowls rise in pitch but Corey doesn't relent. From his vantage point, he can even see the glint of the knife's tip as it pokes out from the skewered creature's back. To its last breath, the bobcat lashes out at its killer.

Gun still in hand, Kane crosses the remaining distance between them and silently shoves aside the bobcat's dead body with one boot. His headlamp's still on, his expression lost in its glaring light as he looks at the knife for a long time and then at the face of the bloodied young man holding it.]

If you're gonna carry a knife that big, we're gonna need to get you a sheath. [He comments, breaking the silence with his usual lack of preamble as he offers his free hand to help Corey up.]

[After a few swipes of the knife against the fabric of his tee, the motion stops, and the knife remains there in his hand, bundled slightly in the now messy cloth. Corey doesn't withdraw it, doesn't make to slip it away. He stares straight ahead, chest silently heaving. What remains of the animal is strewn across his legs. He doesn't make any attempt to move that either. He just - sits. And stares. It's only once the light of Kane's head lamp shines in his eyes that he's roused from whatever state he'd been thrown into.

He blinks a few times, then he squints, shaking his head a few times and raising his free hand to cover his eyes.]

A what? [There's some more squinting, then he glances down at the knife, slowly pulling it away from his shirt.] Oh.

[He's visibly rattled. All out of sorts. So much hesitation and - confusion? He isn't quite sure what to do, and he ends up staring at the proffered hand for far too long before finally accepting it.]

Yeah - alright. [No smile. No emotion of any sort, not even the faintest trace. It takes some effort - thanks, busted ankle - but he gets up from the ground. The knife ends up back in his waistband where it was retrieved from.]

[Towering over Corey's sprawled form, all he can do is stand there, gun dangling limply from his fingers and heart in his throat at the look he sees on the kid's face. Kane knows that look — the glassy-eyed stare of someone physically present but mentally off somewhere else. He's seen that look before. Worn that look before, even. The surprise of the knife threw him, but it takes him only a second to recognize that look and even less time to understand.

There's nothing for it now but to holster his gun and wait. Stock-still, hand outstretched, head lamp trained on the distant face in front of him.]

C'mon, kid. Come back to me. [He's not sure how loudly he says it, or if he even says it aloud at all. Corey's lined features look cadaverous as light and shadows play over his face.

At the sound of his voice, Kane exhales through his nose in relief. Reaches up with his gun hand and flicks his head lamp off its high setting.]

Corey. Look at me. [He puts a little authority into it to cut through the mental fog.] Focus on the sound of my voice. It's over. Copy that? It's over. It's okay. You're okay. You did good.

[He can't tell if anything he's saying registers until he feels the weight of an empty hand finding his own. Hooking a firm but gentle arm around the younger man's, Kane helps his trainee to his feet, taking it at Corey's pace and catching him by the shoulder once he's up.]

Your foot's banged up. [Frowning at the realization, he dips his head and clicks the lamp back on high to assess the damage.] How's it feel? Hurting, or numb?

I'm here.

[A white lie. He's not completely here, but it's a start. The more Kane talks to him, the quicker he's snapped out of whatever trance he'd slipped into.]

I'm here. [The second time is more to convince himself. Yes - he's here. He's fine. Pulling himself back out of the darkness that grabbed him just moments before a little bit at a time. The physical pull, coupled with the support of a much stronger grip both help. He barely stumbles once he's on his feet. And he's careful putting weight on his afflicted ankle, taking a moment to test the waters just to answer his teacher's question.]

Hurts a little. It's fine. [Corey's been through worse, but he doesn't have to say that part out loud. It should be understood by this point if Kane's truly been paying attention to the kid's troubles.]

Good. That's good.

[Good, hell, it's like feeling a tug on the other end of a lifeline thrown into the dark. Out of sight, but not out of reach. And if he can still reach Corey, he can help him climb back out.]

That's it. Right on me. [He laces the encouraging words with just a hint of command this time. Something besides the knife to hold onto if his outstretched arm isn't enough. Keeping himself straight-backed and leaning forward enough to keep the only point of contact between them steady. The warmth of a smaller hand presses against his palm and he takes it firmly into his own, giving Corey just enough heft to find his own footing. Once he's satisfied his trainee's leg isn't going to give out under him, he lets him go, giving him space while standing ready just in case.]

Yeah. Your jumps need work, but at least you've got taking a licking down. [You know, because the kid was almost bobcat lick there and all. Too soon? Probably. Does he care? The sidelong glance he gives Corey says it all -- not even a little bit. Kane is officially out of fucks to give.]

I'd say I'm a pro at this point.

[If Corey means it as a joke - his delivery is rather dry and serious. Usually he jokes with at least the faintest makings of a smile.

Maybe he's just tired. Still frazzled. Why would't he be? Look what just happened.

When he's standing on his own, there's minimal hopping as he tests out his ankle. It hurts, it's whatever. He doesn't seem bothered by it too much. He stands there, steadying himself, letting out the longest exhale.

He's quiet for a bit - possibly too long. And then, unprompted:]

What're we gonna do with it? [He gestures at the animal.]

[Maybe it's a joke and maybe it isn't. Maybe the thing a good teacher would do right about now would be to change the subject.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Kane snorts. Maybes won't do Corey any good. He meets it head-on.]

You'll be a pro at handing them out by the time I'm done with you.

[The grin he shoots down is more teeth than humor. It's a look that makes it clear he isn't joking one bit. Not this time. Some early morning bird calls from the canopy; ignoring it, he settles into position, alert but at ease.

Guard duty - he slips into it like a well-worn coat. Motionless in the long silence, until it breaks with a question he has to blink at.]

Do with it? [A second's confusion evaporates into a hearty laugh and a shrug.] It's your kill. What'd you want to do with it?

[That's the idea behind this whole hare-brained scheme isn't it? Turn this simpering weakling into something much more dangerous - or at the very least somewhat of a threat.

Corey doesn't say a word, doesn't react to his teacher's shark-toothed smile. Barely even flinches.]

Mm. Yeah. [What to do with it? After a moment his expression finally shifts - from blankness to something with a hint of unease. It's slight, but it's obvious he's uncomfortable here.] Seems awful just to leave it here.

[It's a good cause. Showing a bully magnet how to fight back. If he was a better person, that's all this would be. But there's no use pretending he isn't getting something out of it too.

Kane's gaze locks on his trainee, lips still peeled into something sharp and feral. Bared violence fades into his usual indifferent expression when the kid holds his stare without fear. He nods once, satisfied.]

Why? Something would come along and eat it. [Nevertheless, he slings the carcass over his shoulder and motions with his free hand in a let's-get-moving gesture.] That's just nature.

Yeah... [A rather distant look on his face, followed by a very delayed nod.] Doesn't mean it deserves that.

[Despite the fact that it nearly killed him just a minute ago. But Corey doesn't elaborate any further, just hobbles along to keep up. Not quite as dazed as before, still feeling a bit... off. It's not every day a while animal comes at you from out of nowhere.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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natasha romanoff | mcu | ota

Piccolo 🪈 Dragon Ball

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wriothesley | genshin impact | ota

sam carpenter | scream

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for @maskpowers

thank you :)

anytime! thank you too <3

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i'm bACK

:)

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here and once again asking for your late tag support

runs in insanely late!!!

A choccy milk drinker is never late etc, etc

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