Owner	Pose
Sharon Carter	Since Sharon Carter had called Blade in the middle of the night a few days before the attack on the Framework; she has pretty much been missing in action. A few missions here and there were undertaken with varying results, morale not healed too much but injuries have. No more broken ribs, hairline fractured ankles or anything else that Sharon may have done to herself. She was all up and ready. A bit of the look over the shoulders sort, but ready. A text went out to Eric, come at midnight. Bring your weapons. We need to train. It was from Sharon of course, she's usually the only one who was just -that- blunt. She remains on the pier of Ellis Island, dressed not unlike herself. Regular pants that would allow her to move, black form fitting shirt with various spots covered in kevlar. This was covered in the typical white jacket that was once hers that carried the SHIELD emblem, even though she was now the second in command to STRIKE. Half-mask, white, covered the lower half of her face, hair in a ponytail. Not much of a fighting ensemble but she has her own blade now strapped upon her back, one that she has NO IDEA how to use. At least it was crafted well, with the finest metals that HYDRA could buy.
Blade	Blade's appearance and arrival are both composed.  As always, he's clad in an armored vest, his ankle-length coat, and a pair of sunglasses.  He drops in, literally, by leaping over one of the concession stands (currently closed) that are situated on the boardwalk.  For him, prodigiously long leaps are standard fare.  He dusts himself off and approaches, already shedding his outer layer.  The jacket hits the ground with heavy thunks that are indicative of small weapons and clips full of large caliber ammunition.  *POP, POP, POP* Blade unclips the belts that secure his armor and drops it on top of his coat.  Then, one by one, he divests himself of weapons he probably won't need for the next few minutes.  They're all strung across his body, bandolier-style.  Two pistols, well cared for and loaded with the safeties on.  A compact submachine gun.  Several knives and an entire string of silver stakes.  When he's done, all he has is his sword, still sheathed across his back.  Sleeveless shirt.  Black, naturally. A single, enormous dagger, still belted at his hip.  It's a process.  After he's finished, he glances at Sharon and raises an eyebrow.  "You rang?"
Sharon Carter	He made it. He also made it so that Sharon had to sit through the annoying process of watching him get down to bare bones just like she was. Make no mistake, Sharon was armed with icers and her favorite pistol, but that was set aside long before Blade had arrived, and into a place where both of them could get to the weapons if need be. In open view on the bench. "Yeah." Is all Sharon says, reaching back behind her to draw the blade from her back with a resounding *shinnng!*, holding the handle with both hands which was used to charge towards Blade, hands overhead to try to chop him down the middle. Granted, if he doesn't move out of the way she has enough momentum to stop, but she had to pretend somewhat that she's serious, right?
Blade	Another snap-crackle-pop, this time from Blade's neck as he twists it back and forth. Then, almost bonelessly, he drops down to not only touch his toes, but to comfortably hook his arms behind his straightened legs with his nose between his knees. That seems to be all the stretching and limbering that he requires. Good thing, too, since he's being attacked as he rises back up. He draws his sword with a similar ringing sound and parries Sharon's attack, almost lazily. "Come on," he taunts. "You're better than me, but I'm faster than you. Stop *trying* to hit me, just hit me."
Sharon Carter	As the blades connect, Sharon doesn't follow through. She was hoping that would at least get his attention, which it actually does. Now the real fun can begin. "Not better, not with this." Sharon wobbles the blade, then moves to attack again. Most of the handling of the blade she has, she has seen him do. She's also seen something like that in old karate films that most of the boys on the school yard playground enacted as well. Just like here. Stance is wrong. The way she swings, wrong. Even with how she breathes and respects the blade, wrong. So she comes at him like she does; an arched slash to the left. One to the right. One two towards the middle and another from on high again. This time, since he's paying attention, with maximum effort. "Found something for you.." She says in the middle of a slash, here and there. "..nests."
Blade	"Fair," Blade says, acknowledging Sharon's professed weakness with his favorite weapon. "But that's no reason to be sloppy." He reaches over his shoulder and pulls his scabbard free, holding it like a second sword. He deflects Sharon's blows with his katana, then returns them with pokes and prods from the scabbard. "Dead," he rebukes as he nudges her belly. "Dead again," he repeats, this time dropping his improvised "sword" to rest against her collarbone. "What nest? Where? Dead." His last attack is a pantomimed disemboweling slash across Sharon's belly.
Sharon Carter	The repeated failed and 'death' simulated attacks do help; they drive Sharon further to create different tactics as she tries to approach Eric with 'killing' blows. Thankfully, the armor he wears allows her to poke at him if she does make it, and if she were to come close to hitting skin she would stop. Now, they were moving into more seamless katas, his moves.. his 'dead' notices, all creating a pattern of practice. "There was a fight club." Sharon states, all through this. Her explanation comes slow, as every time she strikes, a few words come loose. "Long story short.." More strikes. "..made escape. Happened down a wrong tunnel. Found refuse." Sharon wasn't spinning, but she was attempting to match her footing with Blade. This trick? Following Blade.. she learned from Taskmaster. "He's back, too."
Blade	"You call it refuse, I call it job security." One of Sharon's strikes comes close enough to kiss Blade's cheek, drawing a single drop of blood. His eyes widen appreciatively and he recommits himself to the task at hand. After a loose, swaying dodge, a feint, and a riposte, he closes the distance between himself and Sharon. He doesn't often emphasize their differences in strength, but this time he snags her head in the crook of his arm and bends down as if biting her at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. "Dead. Nice overhand, though. So, what's up? If you needed urgent backup, you would've asked me to bring grenades."
Sharon Carter	Sharon happens to laugh, that laughter took her to the point of her head being nabbed and bent into 'dead'. "Dammit.." She hisses to herself, then backs away, holding one hand up to take a minute, as since he's arrived they've been going non-stop. "I didn't need urgent backup. You're training me. Forcibly. Payment is the intel I'm going to give you and a notice to watch your back." She does look around. "Not to mention, trouble follows you." Thankfully, there was nothing around that could hurt them. Save for a late night chinese place around the corner. Their pockets would be damaged.