7988/Just some casual violence between friends

Just some casual violence between friends
Date of Scene:	26 September 2021
Location:	Penthouse
Synopsis:	Dinah and Kate do sparring and agree they both need therapy they'll never get because they enjoy fighting too much. It's poetic.
Cast of Characters:	Kate Kane, Dinah Lance

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Kate Kane has posed:
Down in Kate's batcave, which is open to only a select group of Gotham's vigilante crew, she's getting ready for a hearty workout before nightly patrol. Wearing tight workout shorts, sports bra, and strike gloves. Her red hair is pinned tight against the top of her head to preven it getting in her face without her cowl on.

Just now she's stretching. What's up? by 4 Non Blondes playing over the PA in the workout area, she palm crawls side to side in a forward bend with her feet spread shoulder length. Loosening up her legs and back muscles before hitting the mats.

Dinah Lance has posed:
This would be the perfect time for the door intercom at the penthouse (routed down to the batcave, obviously) to go off. The cameras show a familiar perky blonde in civvies carrying a shoulder bag waving at the camera, grinning.

"I know you're looking at this. Hey, Kate, can you come out and play? I know a decent gym and I've trained the guys not to be dicks around me so we won't have to break faces while we work out."

She holds up her left hand from out of frame. It's got a six-pack. Of (ugh) cheap beer. "I've got brewskies!"

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate glances over at the intercom with the small view screen... Jaw working side to side, hand drawing along her cheek. "Come on up." Down, to be honest. It's the Kane building, afterall. She has direct access to the whole facility and can redirect the elevator down into the Bat Cave rather than up into the penthouse.

Which may catch Dinah by surprise, with the notable exception that everyone they know and spend any time with has a secret lair. It's kind of mandatory to be in their social circle, honestly.

"I was going to turn you away, but you brought beer." Kate has gone back to stretching. There's a whole ass gym down here. All the equipment one would need for the forever of exercising.

Including a BoFlex. Because you have to support Chuck Norris.

Dinah Lance has posed:
The surprise lasted for all of about two seconds when the elevator went the wrong way. By the time the door opens, Dinah's just peering curiously, stepping out and sweeping her gaze over the whole place.

"Huh. So this is your cave."

Pause.

"Smaller than Batman's. Which is good. I swear his needs three postal codes and it's a mess. It's obvious a bunch of guys live and work there."

She apparently doesn't know about Stately Wayne Manor yet...

"Anyway, how's that saying go? Beware friends bearing gif..." She pauses. "Oh! We don't have to hit a gym!" It's clicked. It's finally clicked. "You've got one right here!"

She shakes her head and continues, "Anyway, ignore the old saying. I've got no secret plan. I just wanted to work out and preferably with someone I won't humiliate in the ring when the sparring starts."

Which ... honestly ... is probably a problem for her. She lacks the funds to have Bruce's attack robots or whatever.

"Where do I change?"

Kate Kane has posed:
"I have the necessities." Kate agrees with a clipped nod, "Nor do I keep a bunch of trophies from every single person I fight... seems a little excessive. To each their own though." Hands up, with strike gloves, and a big shrug. Pointing off towards a shower/changing area. "Through there. Towels, all that. And a fridge full of water, juices, and whatevers over there." It's not too big either, even if it could be.

Her motorcycle is in a small garage.

Spartan.

"Then we'll get smashed and beat each other's ass like we're a couple of dumb asses." Which is accurate, honestly.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah drops the six pack on a nearby flat surface (happens to be a weights bench) and, whistling, heads over to the changing area. Peeling out of the jeans, she keeps crop-top on (apparently already having the appropriate support for strenuous activity beneath) and replaces the jeans with padded bike shorts. (The denim jacket, naturally, just gets tossed onto a hook and forgotten.) The fingerless motorcycle gloves are replaced with a closer-fitting, Velcro-fastened cousin more suited to sparring (tighter around the hand for better support) and feet, shucked of her boots, get shin and ankle wraps to replace them.

Finally she saunters out, picking up a weight bar (sans weights) to start a series of warm-ups to get blood flowing before she switches over to stretching.

"The new kid. Rave is her name. You know, the glowy one. I ran into her in a bar. She's OK, but she's SOOOOOOOOOOO inexperienced. I'm thinking of taking her under my wing."

OK, so she did have an ulterior motive for practising with Kate.

"What do you think?"

Kate Kane has posed:
Ulterior motives are the nature of their game, honestly.

Being part of the batclan comes with all sorts of need to train the future generation of vigilantes is sort of their job... spoken or not. They have that responsibility. Kate bends forward into lunges to further loosen up her thighs, twisting up into the other leg in lunging walks.

She peeks over at Dinah, tilting her head, "Oh, the speedy one from the warehouse? Yeah... she seemed pretty green, but she's got spirit, which is good. Motivation." She dips her head into a short nod. "Makes sense that you would. I'd be willing to help with that, honestly. Could use another female face in the game, too. Ulterior motives and all."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Not a hint of shame at the ulterior motive post-denial. Perhaps instead a hint of amusement on her face. The warm-ups switch smoothly into light stretches. (Small tell for future reference: there's a masked, but palpable wince when she stretches her right calf, paired with the remnants of a burn, likely from the little incident with the Russians and Chinese.)

"Green as all Hell. Nearly fell prey to Catman's charms. I had to warn her off a bit. But she's got the right attitude and she's not afraid of work. I think she's got a future."

Stretches over she starts taking her frustrations out on the punching/kicking bags. Which is, of course, where she shines. Her style has always been acrobatic with every bodily part used as a weapon, often from unexpected directions. Feint with the elbow and strike with the forehead. That kind of thing. Or wrap those thighs around the neck of one and use that as a pivot point for a series of elbow and fist smashes in a sweep. For the practice, naturally, she doesn't go quite that far (because punching bags don't have necks) but she does do a display of pain ballet that leaves the heavy bags swinging violently behind her.

"I'm ready when you are," she says, cracking her neck before cracking a brew and guzzling it.

"Let's get down and dir..." She pauses. "You know what I mean."

Kate Kane has posed:
"She's hungry." Kate agrees of Dinah's assessment of Rave, "With your help, I think she definitely does have a future." Compliments aren't easily given, but usually well earned, when they come from Kate.

Everything is sore on her. It's obvious she's working through the pain, demanding her body do what it definitely does not want to be doing, after that violent situation a few nights prior. Suffice that she still moves pretty well dispite it. Stretching out her haggard muscles.

Until she hits the bags.

Like Dinah, that's where she excels.

Except she is not as acrobatic. She's a brawler with finesse.

Powering into elbows that could knock someone clean out and leaves a mark in the bag when it hits. Knees that can knock the wind from someone's lungs. She finishes with a jumping front kick that sends the bag swinging.

Caught in both gloved hands to keep it from rocking, she nods to Dinah and brings her fists up to either side of her face like a Kick boxer. Loose on the balls of her feet. "I'll take it easy on you." She jokes with a teasing smirk.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"If she's like most of the speedy types," Dinah says, tossing the can aside and adopting a ready stance in front of Kate, before bowing, as she was taught, "she's got a glass jaw. And she's so eager to prove herself this is going to hurt her."

The bow turns rapidly into a forward somersault, with the legs sweeping straight down in a vicious double kick.

She cheated, in short.

But that's training. The Enemy doesn't play fair, so you don't practice fair in spars.

The kicks, it turns out, however, are a feint, designed to throw Kate off balance and backpedalling, giving Dinah time to collect into a ball and launch herself forward for a body bash and attempted takedown.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate isn't Batman. She fights like a solider, moving forward, but nobody wants to get kicked. Like wise she's as familiar with Dinah's fighting style as the reverse is true. She pedals backwards, as intended, but expects the feint. When Dinah springs out of her ball for the body bash, Kate tries to hem her up and twist at the waist. Cranking her leg around trying to catch the other woman's ankles so she can take a top mount position.

Where she definitely has the upperhand. Nuetralize the acrobate into a ground and pound situation.

Neither of them are new to fighting though.

"You can harden someones jaw. I always hate that description: Glass jaw. It's just a jaw that hasn't been punched enough. More like... jelly jaw. The more you work it, the harder it gets."

Dinah Lance has posed:
The sweep hits the weak leg and engenders a slight, quickly-muted hiss of pain. The bash fails to connect, but Dinah is a slippery little minx and manages, with a desperate twist of her own, to keep the other leg out of the little argument Kate's want to start.

One good thing: she's standing on a foot that's behind Kate's sweep.

One bad thing: She's been forced to turn her back on Kate. Were she a real enemy that could be fatal.

One good thing: She's equally comfortable attacking backward as she is forward. Which she does by bringing her body down straight back, elbow ready to hit whatever of Kate's is foolish enough to be in the way.

"I was thinking more that one hit and she shatters. I don't want her spirit broken."

Kate Kane has posed:
In miliseconds, Kate has seen the opening to take Dinah's back. Wrap one leg up around her waist, hook her arm in beneath her chin running her jaw, and lock her other arm across her elbow in a rear naked choke deep enough to drop anyone. Could she manage it on Dinah? It took Dinah just as much time to see the dangers, so probably not. But had she been some hood? It'd be night night.

Someone get that mother fucker a pillow, cus he's going to sleep.

The elbow hurls backwards and connects with forearms brought up suddenly to defend her far more squishy face (compared to her arms). Kate does not have a glass jaw. Nor lead feet. She moves backwards on the balls, arching out to the right, to build momentum, and into a twisting crescent kick with her right foot.

"Oh, I very much talking about that one hit and she shatters. We keep punching her until she stops breaking. That or get her an armored mask."

"Or a gun."

Dinah Lance has posed:
That's the beauty of an always-attack mode of combat. Her back was turned. She was vulnerable. Kate spotted that and started to take advantage of it. But it's hard to maintain a choke hold when you have to desperately throw up your arms to prevent your face from being turned to something like a filet mignon in tenderness.

A lesser fighter would rest on her laurels here. (Or her Laurels. Ha ha.) Bask in the glory of having staved off an ugly, sleepy-time attack.

There's two problems with that.

1. Dinah isn't a lesser fighter.

2. Dinah, while not particularly averse to pain, doesn't seek it out actively. And she knows that to let up even for a fraction of a second when Kate is on the other end is a recipe for pain.

Kate blocks. Rocks back. Swerves right. And here Dinah makes a potentially fatal mistake. She lunges left, giving Kate more room to build up momentum for her kick.

See that leg that's giving her trouble is the left one. Instinctively she took a stance that kept it as far from the action as possible and there's where the fatal error lies. Kate's foot swings around, mighty thigh, hip, waist muscles driving it at punishing acceleration straight for Dinah's gut.

And it lands! Square in the middle of her stomach, Kate's kick lands, in a textbook placement of the shin. Foot and ankle on Dinah's far side. Shin landing almost perfectly flatly along Dinah's flat abs. Knee on the near side. This is the kind of kick you could illustrate a textbook with.

Indeed it's suspiciously clean. Kate's an experienced fighter and knows that 'clean' rarely, if ever, happens. Alarm bells start blaring in her head, metaphorically speaking, as Dinah, with an outward WHOOSH of breath, doubles over her lower leg ...

... and then the countermeasures start. Left arm down on the foot, twisting the ankle inward. Right arm in a short strike, like the best Wing Chun forms, against the inside of the knee. On a leg immobilized by Dinah's convulsing body, instinctively doubling over and binding the leg in the cup formed by her thighs and torso.

The weight then drags the pair down to the floor inexorably; Dinah's done a sacrificial move. Like chess players do, only with her gut. It's up to Kate to avoid check and mate.

If she can.

Kate Kane has posed:
Those alarms go off, but her foot is already in there by that point. Pinned against Dinah's side with a strike in the back of her, admittedly sore, knee. She fights through pain like anyone related to Bruce Wayne might, but she's not inhuman and the short strike takes her off balance. Twisting down as they're dragged to the mats with her palms down to press in against Dinah's shoulders to keep her from mounting up over her torso, which is the only obvious manuever short of an ankle lock.

But her foot is out of position for it.

There's two options in this position.

A lesser fighter would try to pull their leg free, which would /put/ her ankle into position for the exact thing she's trying to avoid... or hook her arm down beneath Dinah's jaw.

With the squirrel woman half atop her with one of her ankles hooked in the cup of waist and thigh, she's got leverage on Kate, but with the redhead laying with her back on the mat... she's got just enough to drop her weight onto her shoulders.

Her free leg tries to circle in around Dinah's waist, with her arm snaking in beneath her jaw... working towards her throat. Trying to get her into an inverted choke with her one leg further moving to hold her fast.

There's still options, of course.

Dinah's not a chump.

Sacrifice met with sacrifice.

Queen for Queen.

Dinah Lance has posed:
How do you deal with a choke hold? Instinctively we struggle away from it. We add to it. We bring on unconsciousness and death faster.

The trained fighter instead tries to resist. Puts a hand or arm or ANYTHING between the precious air-giving tubes and the cruel, invasive crushing force.

The sublime fighter, however, recognizes this, too, is a losing strategy, in that it deprives you of a weapon you desperately need. The sublime fighter instead does two things: turns into the choke, throwing off the aim and rhythm of the choker, and then attacks the choker with everything available. Force the choker to decide between bodily integrity and maintaining the choke.

Her legs are out of the picture. She's curled up around Kate's leg, immobilizing and twisting it. Her left hand is out of the picture since it's intent on causing Kate maximum pain from twisting that ankle inexorably inward. (HOW DOES SOMEONE SO SMALL GET SO STRONG!?) The right hand is all that's free. And she uses that freedom for maximum effect as her vision starts to turn grey.

Punch after punch, aimed, insultingly, using Kate's own legs, ram against Kate's abdomen: below her stomach (and, mercifully, above ... ah ... reproductive systems, shall we say?).

It's a race now: which gives first, Dinah's ability to continue breathing (and thus consciousness) or Kate's ability to withstand pain to some of the most sensitive organs (shy of the aforementioned reproductive ones, that is) in the human body?

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate is a tough bitch.

Likely one of the toughest, purely human, women in Gotham, if not further than that... She can take an obnoxious amount of punishment. And has, to be fair. Some of it very recent. She made mention, quite loudly in fact, that her back was hurting after the Russian fight. What she didn't know at the time was that it had actually been her stomach.. specifically her solar plexus. She'd been shot with a shotgun. It had peppered her armor, not broken through, but it hurt like a straight up mother fucker. Hurt right through her abdomen, into her back by way of a bruised kidney.

Lesser beings would have taken a few days off.

They also wouldn't put on a bat costume and dare call themselves Batwoman.

That all said... Dinah is hitting her right in the fucking kidney.

They call that a rabbit punch... which is an odd name for a kind of punch, if we're being honest, but it's stupidly effective. Each grows more painful, obviously so. Kate grunting as the last hits and she releases the choke... Safe that she's done /just/ enough damage that she can scamper back away from the grip when oxygen finally rushes back into starved lungs.

But she's not going to her feet, she's sprawled out on the floor panting with a hand on her flank. "God dammit.." It's painful, but also, weirdly, pleased. As if she actually kind of enjoys it? Not so much the pain, because that's a whole other level of fucked up. More the act of working through it. Proving she can... pushing herself well beyond what should, or could, be expected of her. "Two flavors and you chose my right kidney.."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah does what Dinah does best.

Oxygen reaches her tortured lungs and she breathes in deeply.

And training from one of the most punishing teachers conceivable takes over.

She stands.

She doesn't have the oxygen to form the thought that says 'stand'. Her body just does it. It's the ultimate triumph of mind over matter.

Until she keels over, still desperately trying to oxygenate, her left leg crumpling first.

Kate groans. Swears. Complains.

Dinah just makes fish-out-of-water noises.

"Just ..." *wheeze* "... lucky I ..." *wheeze* "... guess!"

Then no more words for a while. She's trying to keep black back, after all. Relaxation after deoxygenation is ... unwise.

Finally she manages to get her breathing back under control. And wastes that newfound breath on ... a giggle. A genuine giggle.

"This is all kinds of fucked-up Kate, but ... I really enjoyed this. Getting hurt. Hurting. If I was wired your way, we'd be wrestling differently now."

She takes a deep breath, expelling it noisily, before rolling up onto an elbow.

"Was it good for you hon?" she asks, laughing now, dragging herself to her knees so she can crawl to the beers. A can is launched Kate's way and she cracks open a second for her. "What the fuck is wrong with us?" she asks, grinning. "Psychiatrists would have a field day watching us."

The second can is noisily guzzled.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate isn't gasping for breath, but she's still wincing at the pain in her side.. The realization that there is a genuine chance she'll piss blood for the next week hits her and that is not nearly as enjoyable as the act of fighting through pain... but this is the life she leads.

It's not until Dinah starts sitting up that she does as well. Pushing up onto her palms despite the agony in her side. Legs spread out in front of her with her ankle twisting to work the kinks of being twisted free. Likewise laughing at what Dinah manages to croak out once oxygen becomes her friend again.
"Was it good for me? Yeah, yeah it was.. this is how I get all my dates, you see. Bring'em down here, get into a little casual sparring... bing, bang, boom, next thing you know we're in a pyramid that doesn't involve choking." She rolls her eyes at Dinah and her self, laughing quietly to herself as she snaps the beer launched her way free of the air.

"Oh god..." Her side hurts like shit. A big purple bruise starting to look angry again. "There's not enough psychology in the world to sort our fucking problems out.. We'll just have to bury our pain behind hours of training and tons of violence. Carts worth of alcohol, and more casual sex with random stranger than we can shake an entire rolled up stack of ten thirteens at."