11808/CQB training for fun and profit

CQB training for fun and profit
Date of Scene:	29 June 2022
Location:	Athletics: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Sparring turns emotional. Emotions turn to talk. Talk turns to amicable parting.
Cast of Characters:	Bobbi Morse, Achilles

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Bobbi Morse has posed:
The Triskelion. Headquarters for SHIELD and a place where the agents of the world's premiere spy and espionage organization can take some time to relax and recover from the outside world.

BAM!

"Too slow." Bobbi Morse tells the poor agent she's currently working with, where he lays on the ground stunned. "And you charge in like a moose in rut. Next time you telegraph like that, I won't pull my blow."

The agent in question groans, as if to protest the idea that she pulled her blow. The biochemist turned super spy is currently dressed casually in a pair of yoga pants, gym sneakers, and a cut-off tank top proclaiming 'Delicate Flower'. She's also armed with her batons, and twirls them as the agent gets to his feet, and honest-to-god pulls out a white handkerchief to wave even as he rolls to his feet.

For her part, the blonde doesn't even look particularly winded, and grins. "Same time next week?" The agent just groans again and begins to limp off into the sunset after waving his assent while Bobbi twirls her batons. "Who's next?"

Achilles has posed:
    And.. another voice comes through the room. A bit deeper and more resonant. "If you are teaching, then it's better to never pull your punches. Trust me, they'll learn to defend if only for self preservation." A pause and Angelo steps onto the mat in a pair of simple shorts and a tanktop.

    "It worked for me when I was young. Though..." he shrugs, "Most of my teachers were frustrated rather quickly. So..." he tilts his head and asks, "Do you favor Silat or Escrima for the sticks?" he asks as he lifts one leg, the knee coming to his chest while he balances on the other. Then does the same with the other leg.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Considering I can punch through steel, might not be such a good idea." Bobbi tells the new arrival dryly, "Med staff have gotten on to me, claiming baseline agents are 'fragile' and 'breakable'." She shakes her head, in mock sadness, "They just don't make them like they use to, eh?"

She continues to twirl her batons, considering his question on what her chosen style is. "I don't favor any one style." She finally replies, stilling her twirling and shrugging at Angelo, "If you have a recognizable style, people can predict what you're doing. I prefer being unpredictable. Like... this."

And quicker than a striking snake, Bobbi launches herself at the man on his one leg, aiming for his center of gravity with a kick that turns into a leg-sweep when it is inevitably blocked.

Achilles has posed:
    The irony is... in his day, in his youth, Angelo was known for one thing above all else... speed. That single supporting leg does make for an easy target, but he doesn't actually go for a block. The moment the woman starts her strike, the leg he had lifted arrows out in a thrust kick. A forward kick. Something designed to keep an opponent at the range of a kick.

    Yet, one cannot simply attack -and- evade the sweeping move at the same time. The best case scenario would be that they both get their strikes in at once. And while Angelo is not superhumanly strong, he is about as strong as a human can get. He might very well be the Earth's first chemically augmented super-soldier.

    But as his leg is swept, he dives into a reflexive breakfall to put him out of reach so he can bounce to his feet, prepared. "Nice. No such thing as a fair fight." he admits.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
To be fair (pun intended, always) the sudden attack without any kind of indication that the sparring was starting was almost so cliche as to not be a surprise. But Bobbi is a skilled enough hand to hand combatant that it was less about surprise and more about making sure she is the one directing the flow of combat.

The leg thrust out at her does it's job, fouling the initial lunge at him and taking some of the piss out of her leg sweep. It might even be enough to keep him upright if he didn't dive into a breakfall.

"Fight fair, you've already lost." Bobbi says in agreement, as she springs at him from where she fell prone to the floor with a backflip that brings her feet towards his face. "Can't exactly be the Daughter of Darkness and play fair." Even as she launches herself at him, she throws one of her batons down hard at an angle designed to send it bouncing towards his groin in a *very* unsportsman-like manner.

Achilles has posed:
    Well, so long as the rule is... if you're not cheatin', you're not tryin'... Angelo has some of his own toys to put to use. Those shiny metal bracers on each forearm aren't just for show as some people in SHIELD know. They are creations of Hephaestus himself. They perform something similar to Pym Particles, but without those actual particles. His circular shield flickers into existence on his left arm just in time to get dented by the bounced baton. "Hey now. No need to make it personal now." he says while his head gets rocked by the kick. He's tough. Very tough in fact. But it's not a matter of sheer toughness.

    He is mentally tough and quite capable of dealing with pain and moving forward. He's had arrows in his lungs and kept fighting. He's had broken arms and kept fighting. He even fought with a dagger through his throat once. A kick to the head won't stop him very long.

    In fact, he just accepts that strike and lifts his shield in what the medieval types would refer to as a 'shield bash'. Yet another maneuver designed to clear some space. "You've had some serious training." he admits before trying to turn this whole thing on its head. He surges forward in a feint attempt using that same shield, using the bulk of it to conceal his attacking hand as he goes for a spear-hand thrust towards the throat.

    He takes to the lesson... if all you do is defend, you give the initiative to your foe. So he believes in attacking as often as possible. To make the opponent defend. It seems that Bobbi and he have similar modes of thought for that.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Thought you mythological nerds called that foreplay." Bobbi taunts him, in pure Mockingbird fashion. The blow to his head is pulled, seeing as how she isn't trying to put his immortality to the test... Enough to ring the bell of most people, but not enough to make a head explode like a watermelon with too many rubber bands on it.

The shield bash lands, with Bobbi unable or unwilling to disengage from close quarters in time to avoid it. But she's a tough old bird, and the blow doesn't send her flying the way it might a lesser person. Thus she's still close enough that while she can't completely avoid the spear-hand thrust she is able to adjust so that the blow lands on her shoulder instead and she uses the momentum to attempt to toss him... with a spanking across his rump with one of her batons should she manage it.

"C'mon, man, you can do better than that." She taunts, as she takes the opportunity to bounce away from him, "If that's your idea of pounding, I bet Patroclus was the top."

Achilles has posed:
    The blow lands. Well, the blows land. The one to his rump with the baton hits. He turns and has a grin on his face, "I call it warming up." he replies when Bobbi talks about him doing better than that. "And as Andre the Giant once said in a fantastic movie... I was just trying to let you feel you were doing well."

    His shield vanishes and his hands come up... just as that last comment is made. As someone trained in reading people... in seeing how they react. Someone who is used to poking and prodding to get a reaction... the reaction Bobbi gets out of Angelo is not likely to be the one she intended to get. His eyes... which were full of amusement and challenge... go dead. Emotionless. His face goes slack and after a half second... his hands come down and he turns to start walking off the mat. The usually very verbose and talkative, not to mention charismatic agent... has no words. The eyes looked like those of a person who just watched their own child murdered in front of them. Full of loss and regret... pain and guilt. Someone has never gotten over the loss of his first love.... and the rage that it inspired in him. At least he's not losing control out of grief and anger.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
It's perhaps a flaw in Bobbi's particular makeup that sometimes she does push too far, and it's not the first time she's misjudged a reaction like this. In her heart of hearts, Bobbi Morse is a very logical person that has worked her adult life to turn off her emotions. The idea of grieving for someone after eons like that? Angelo's reaction takes Bobbi completely by surprise and she stumbles when he abruptly disengages.

"Great job, Bob." Bobbi mutters to herself as she catches her balance, letting her batons fall and moves to follow after Angelo. Logical, cold-hearted hellbeast that she may be (according to her ex) she is still human enough not to try and make amends. Thanks to the bastardized serum flowing in her blood, catching up with him is easy, and she lightly touches his arm. "Angelo... Fuck, man, I'm sorry. My mouth gets away from me sometimes."

Achilles has posed:
    Stopping there, still keeping his back to Bobbi, Angelo takes a deep breath. There is a long moment where he just... exists. Silently stewing. Then finally, after that pregnant pause, he speaks. His voice still deep, but much less bravado in it. "Do you have any idea what it -feels- like when your life is nothing but a story to the vast majority of the world? When people think of the characters in that story as just that... characters, not people."

    Another breath is taken and he turns to face Bobbi, "To you, the name ..." He almost can't say it... but he does, "Patroclus ... is just a name on a page. Just some person who died so long ago that his life meant nothing to you."

    A hand comes up, and he presses his palm to his own chest, "To me, it was the name of the best friend that I have ever had. The first human being who treated me as a -person-... not a Prince. Not a soldier. Not the one a King and his entire army pinned their hopes on. But as a living, breathing person who could love another so fiercely that when he -died-.. I did things that I have spent three... THOUSAND... years trying to redeem myself for." His voice rose a little bit as he spoke there, but it's not yelling. Just emotional.

    "And to have someone I think of as a comrade, even a friend... use the name that means so little to her, and so much to me, to try to simply gain a small advantage in a fight that is ultimately meaningless... yeah, that's a little to far." Yes, he is angry, but not really that angry at Bobbi so much as just angry at the world for how they treat all of this. Angry at himself for still not being over it.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
There's a pregnant pause, with Bobbi listening to everything Angelo has to say with a calm, almost detached expression. "You're right. I don't understand." Bobbi finally says in a soft, soothing sort of voice. "I've spent my entire adult life divorcing myself from that sort of personal relationship... To the point that I walked out on the man I loved without losing a single night's sleep."

The senior agent nods towards a small bench, indicating they should sit down. "I could temporize and say it was all a lesson, an effort to teach you to guard yourself emotionally as well as physically." She holds up a hand, "But that doesn't make it alright either. I've dealt with enough demi-gods and mythological types to know that you're just as human as anyone else, and that the stories and myths aren't just that to you."

Should he accept her invitation to sit, she doesn't look at him, instead staring straight ahead. "I'm immortal too, you know. I had a mission go bad, and the only way to survive was getting injected with a modified version of the Infinity Serum and Super Soldier serum." She shrugs one shoulder, "Maybe eventually I'll learn how to interact with people without being a demonic hellbeast, as my ex so eloquently describes me."

Achilles has posed:
    It is odd for someone so old to have such emotional responses to things. The truth is, he did learn to cut himself off from most attachments. But not until much later in his long life. He learned to keep most people at arm's length. But before he learned that, he lost his best friend and murdered basically an entire city in retaliation, starting with the best soldier, and best man he had ever met. The first man who ever pushed him to fight better. Who made him dig deep in order to win.

    After some time, ten... twenty seconds, he sags his shoulders a bit and moves to sit down. "Well, the first lesson of immortality that I learned.. the hard way... was to get used to having everyone in your life grow old and die. To make yourself ready to change your identity, and to find people now and then who you -can- trust with your truth. But... hopefully, you will not do as much to regret as I did." he states as he leans back and closes his eyes.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"I have a bit of an advantage over you there." Bobbi replies with a shrug of one shoulder, still staring off into space. "I've learned to turn off the part of me capable of regrets." She side-eyes him, expression slightly guarded. "I don't know what kind of commitment you have to SHIELD, or what kind of agent you're going to be, but... When you do what I do, you learn. I've slit throats and held the wound while they bled out to prevent them from leaving a stain. I've slept with targets, even nearly got married once, only to turn on them when they were most vulnerable."

She spreads her hands again, helplessly, "And I do it all without losing sleep. I'm almost more scared at how comfortable the idea of living without any ties is, and how much more effective I could be." Pause, "Psyche assures me I'm not a sociopath or psychopath, though." Pause again, and she lightly touches him on the shoulder. "I am sorry I hurt you. And I do consider you a friend, for what it's worth."

Achilles has posed:
    Smirking a bit, Angelo shakes his head, "You are describing the sort of person that I used to be. So long ago. The type of person who slaughtered hundreds if not thousands of people for one reason or another. Quite literally, I was a murderer of the worst sort. I killed people to earn myself glory. Trust me, I have done worse than you... I managed to look back and regret the man I used to be. I have spent three thousand years trying to make up for the man I used to be. If I could give you any advice.. it would be to take a good look at -who- you are before you get to the point where I was at."

    That said, he stands up and gives a mock salute, "Another time Agent Morse." he says more amicably before turning to depart.