voidtreckerexpress | The Return of Fight Club

Entry tags:

The Return of Fight Club

Who: Anyone who wants
Where: Training Gym
When: Orchestra 11th (two days after event end)
What: The return of Fight Club, where people can practice and learn
Warnings: Potential language? Fighting.

Shortly after his post to the network, Trunks continued to set up various parts of the training gym. Hoping that people would come. He already had students, but this had always been a good idea of Mr. Rieper's. Having an open night where anyone could come.

Time to carry on that tradition.

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Esteban isn't quite sure... what he's expecting when he walks in a few minutes later. Just that the message-- which, frankly, he's still baffled by the far-seer thing-- had piqued his interest and he wanted to know what was up with it. So he peeks into the room first, and pauses, unsure if he should announce his presence or not.

"Need a hand?" he offers freely, wondering if there was anything he could do to help at the very least.

Trunks looks exactly as he did in the video, where he's pulling out training dummies and arranging them on one side of the gym. "Hey, welcome! And sure."

Hmm. He hadn't expected-- Like, what could he do? The lack of instruction had him stand around a bit, unsure, but he settled on reaching the mats inside the cupboard, patting them lightly as he asked "Should I get some on the floor?" Seemed like a good first step to try.

"I unno-- it's the first time I came for this. Is there anythin' specific we need? That I should get ready for?"

"Well, welcome. It's the first time I've hosted one, although I've been to a few of them before. And yeah, if you want to grab some mats and set them up in a space over there." Trunks pointed. "that'd be a good area for tumbling or hand-to-hand practice. Thanks."

With a grin. "Name's Trunks."

"I'm Esteban! Nice to meetcha!~" Emboldened by his companion's support (and directives), Esteban is eager to get to work, and to lay out the mats as instructed. He prattles while he works, just to fill the air with an easy conversation, and partly to get to know whoever Trunks is; he's having fun meeting all these different people ever since he came onto the train.

"Whatcha teaching? Or at least I'm assumin' you teach somethin' since yer the one to pull the class together?" Esteban himself might be able to guide someone through giving a decent kick, but he's otherwise not the strongest of fighters and he knows it. His last altercation with someone almost left him with a black eye, and there's still a light bruise on his cheekbone, barely visible for how dark his skin is naturally. He's glad at least that it makes it harder for people to spot it.

He should train his reflexes. His hand-to-eye coordination is already great, but he couldn't keep up with the speed, and he needs to be able to prevent that next time.

"I'm willing to teach sword, hand-to-hand, and Ki manipulation." Trunks replied while helping the other with set-up. "And this wasn't originally my idea. But since Mr. Rieper's no longer on the train, someone had to step up. I just got to it first."

He's not too sure what to say to the loss; seems like everyone has known it on some point or another on this train. People come, and people go, Esteban knows they can't control that, but he does genuinely wish he could do something for those that are left behind.

"Thanks for keepin' it going. That way, he's still helpin' out everyone aboard, yeah?" It's... not much of a comfort. But it's something. He hopes.

"What's Ki?" the redhead asks after a moment, hoping to distract his companion maybe a bit.

For Trunks:
Danny waves at Trunks as he enters the car.

"Need any help setting up?"

For Anyone:
Later, Danny is practicing some of the fighting techniques he'd learned here as he keeps to himself at one end of the car. Danny being Danny, he goes back and forth from practicing as a human and hovering several inches over the ground as he practices fighting as a ghost. He wouldn't say no to a sparring partner.

Trunks is using cones to block off one corner of the gym, with some targets set up. For people to practice with firearms or arrows or thrown weapons. "Hey Danny! I've got most of it. Trying to make sure there's specific areas for weapons practice, or distance."

Gesturing to his work. "What do you think?"

"Looks good to me?" Although Danny honestly had very little idea how much space either one of those needed for practice.

"I mean, I've never hosted this before so... But it was a good idea, and I think Mr. Rieper, if not others, would definitely want this to go on."

"I think its a great idea. I know I wouldn't have learned nearly as much about fighting without my powers without it."

"You and quite a few others. It's a good way for all of us to learn and practice and get used to each other too."

"That too. Do you know if anyone new is interested in joining?"

Naoya is over in the corner with a training dummy, twirling the wooden sword in his hand with remarkable ease. A lot of it's clearly show, though - his strikes aren't nearly hard enough to do damage, even if he were using a real sword and not a practice one.

He might need some pointers. He has the knowledge, but putting it into practice after all these yeaers is a little iffy.

Trunks is nearby, watching. Finally he speaks up, when it looks like he won't distract the other too badly. "Long time since you've practiced?" There was a lot there that could be improved, but it didn't look as though the other was unfamiliar with a weapon, at least.

He looks up at Trunks and nods, pointing the sword downwards just as a matter of practice. It's not going to hurt anyone, but he might as well get into the habit now.

"And the last sword I used was more of a rapier than this."

Soldat is here to help. Soldat is here pretty much every evening to help, but if there's a specific time to get people interested in self-defense and it's being advertised, they're absolutely going to show up.

They occupy themselves while waiting by throwing knives at targets in one corner of the training car, hitting the center each time, eyes following anyone who comes in, in case they look lost. "I can help. If you want," they offer. "I'm a good teacher."

They're also available for anyone who just needs somebody to beat on, a tank to soak damage. Now that their serum is back to normal-- thanks voidstorm!-- it's pretty easy to shake off hits from anyone who isn't highly enhanced, and playing the example bad guy for someone else is just as useful a pass-time as instructing, themselves.

Naoya looks less lost and more calculating as he watches Soldat throw knives into the targets. It's been a while since he's used throwing knives, so he's a bit curious as to the method the other's using. Of course he can't match the power of someone like that, but if he uses speed to compensate...

... He says none of this aloud, only continues watching Soldat with an odd gleam in his eye.

Soldat is pretty fast for someone with their bulk, too, though they're not really exerting themselves at all, either. They run out of knives and prowl across the car to collect them, aware of eyes on their back.

When they move back to the throwing line, they offer one of the little blade hilt-first to Naoya. He's watching. He must be curious.

The blade itself is not actually a typical throwing knife. Technically, it's one of the sharp feet broken off Prisoner's caltrops, given some filing to make a little grip on one end. But it's perfectly balanced for throwing.

He takes the knife and turns his gaze to the target. He keeps his gaze on center mass and whips his arm around to toss the knife.

It flies across the room and hits... not center mass. Instead it sticks into the 'throat', and he snorts in amusement at his own failing.

"Not exactly where I was aiming for, but still effective, I think."

"You've had some training," Soldat observes. "I've had some people try to throw a knife and it just bounces off, hitting with the hilt or at a poor angle. Your form isn't bad." Not perfect, but not bad.

"I've had some experience in a lot of different weapons, but I don't claim to be a master at any of them. I know the theory for things... practice is a little more shaky." He hasn't had a real combat role where he's needed to use a weapon in a long time.

"Not everyone can even hit the target on the first try, with a knife, particularly a small and unfamiliar one, so I wouldn't call you shaky," Soldat chuckles. "I think it's mostly in your stance that throws your aim off? You need to lead more with your hip."

"That's fair. I've got a good eye." To say the least. He's pretty good at being accurate when it counts, even if it seems he twitched. "More with my hip, huh? I'll try that." He holds his hand out for another knife.

Soldat hands it over, then shifts their own weight to demonstrate what they mean. "Like this." They give the knife an expert throw, hitting the target right in the middle of the forehead, exactly as aimed. Knives have always been their favorite thing.

He nods and watches Soldat carefully, taking in his movement carefully. If he can adjust it for his own body - aha.

His hand whips out as he twists, the dagger whistling through the air and hitting the target right in the heart. "That's more like it."

"There you go." Soldat nods. "I don't imagine I have a lot to teach you. I guess moving targets, but that's hard to practice in a narrow train car. You know all the basics? Falling, breaking out of holds, debilitating one-shot hits?"

"I know some of them. One-shot hits... I know in theory where to hit, but on someone like you I'd have problems."

Then again he suspects that on someone of this man's build he'd have more problems than just trying to hit him in the right place.

"Well, I'm unusual," Soldat allows. "I'm enhanced. And have a metal arm. But kick anybody humanish in the groin or punch them in the throat, or stomp hard on the top of their foot, and that'll distract them enough to get in a better hit. Or run away."

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The Return of Fight Club

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