Pulling Punches (IC)

[Raveled]

Brian fended off the first few jabs, but when Morgan mentioned the sidhe his concentration wavered and he took a solid hit to the ribs before he managed to dance back. He had had a very interesting evening the company of the wind fey, after saving her sisters; neither spoke the other's language, but then they hadn't spent much of the night talking. Morgan had warned Brian about how the sidhe regarded 'sporting' with mortals, but it had still been an experience, one much more exciting and memorable than going knuckle-to-knuckle with his roomie.

Brian rallied and started returning some punches, hunkering behind one raised fist and jabbing with the other one. "Yeah, I remember her. You never did give her my cell number, did you?"

[Quinn]

Morgan took the blow on the chin, rolling his neck and giving a quick tap to Brian's side before dancing away. At Brian's cell-number comment, he began chuckling, which turned into a full-bore laugh.

"Uh, dude? Wind spirit? Big tyme olde worlde? I don't think she'd even know what a cell is."

He tried to retain his stance, but the thought of a spirit with a cellphone kept throwing him off, as laughter bubbled up. Finally, he leaned on the ropes and shook his head.

"Anyway. Getting back to what you were asking, her showing up was...a part of it. I've...well, I've got a bit of a reputation. Among the Tuatha and their associates, I mean."

Crowe's face was a mixture of chagrin and pride, and he shrugged. Regaining his stance, he began shifting around Glowstar, a tad more cautious in his movements. The teen began marshaling his thoughts as he watched his ersatz opponent...

[Raveled]

Brian continued circling, jabbing defensively to keep Morgan from rushing him. "You're in because you have a reputation among the magical creatures of the forest? That's gotta be a weird scholarship you've got." He grinned and feinted left, then switched up and aimed a straight kick at Morgan's knee. "What do you have to do to keep it? Water the flowers? Hug ten trees a week? Or is it based on your grades in Horticulture or Botany?" He smiled wider and dropped his defenses for a moment, leaning forward and stage-whispering. "Or is it just because the fairy ladies can't withstand a knight in shining armor, heh?"

[Quinn]

Crow barked a laugh, shifting his foot aside easily and retaliating with a stinging boot right to the shin.

"Heh, bit more complicated than that. It's not the reputation that got me in, it's what my dad did when he found out I had said reputation. And had gotten it behind his back. And he found out after I came home covered in bruises, with a broken nose."

He gave a somewhat crooked smile, then adopted a serious expression.

"And dude, seriously, be careful what you say about the Fair Folk. Yeah, you can get a lot of shiny happy foresty-type fae running around, sitting on toadstools and playing instruments made from leaves, but there's just as many Black Dog and Red Cap types out there, too. And don't even get me started on the actual 'gods' in the Tuatha..."

[Raveled]

Brian danced back from Morgan's foot, cursing under his breath. "Shin kicking, man? That's just mean!" He retaliated with a quick flurry of punches, ending it with a solid body check. "I ain't worried about pissing off gods, man. We're heroes! We beat up mythological monsters and stuff for breakfast." He traded a few more blows before talking again. "Funny you should mention coming how with a black eye. That's how I started learning how to fight. Came home all roughed up after some bullies beat me a bit, and Mom decided it was time for me to learn how to defend myself. She's a cool lady, my mom."

[Quinn]

Morgan's face changed from cheery to stony within a second of Brian mentioning his mother, and for a minute or two the only sound was that of fists striking as the two sparred. When Morgan spoke again it was in a somewhat grim voice, uncharacteristic of him.

"Dad only knew how to swing a spear and shield, so I taught myself the sweet science. He...it..."

He trailed off. Another minute passed as the sparring continued, a somewhat oppressive atmosphere filling the room before Crow disengaged and leaned on the ropes again, marshaling his thoughts.

"Er...sorry, got a bit off-topic there. My dad...well, he used to be a hero once, and he still had some rep in the biz. So this fae once showed up on our doorstep asking for help when he was out grocery shopping. I...well, I had a...I had my own reasons at the time, and I was a bit stupid, so I said I'd help. And I did. Ambushed and beat down a Fomorian with an iron baseball bat and kicked him back through a portal. She was grateful, and told a few of her friends. And they told a few others. And...well, it kind of snowballed."

Morgan coughed and rubbed the back of his head, looking everywhere but Brian.

[Raveled]

Brian took the break gratefully, taking a spot against the ropes next to Morgan, breathing deeply. "Could be worse," he said. "Leastways you always knew what your parents were on about." He rolled his shoulders, trying not to let his muscles cool down too fast. "I mean, for you the whole 'dressing up and fighting crime' thing is practically a family legacy. Though running around with a spear sound a bit weirder than most." He flexed his legs, bringing his knees up as far as they'd go and letting them down again, eyeing Morgan. He gave the other young man a punch on the arm, grinning widely. "So, these fairy ladies. Always go 'grateful' to you?"

[Quinn]

Crowe's face actually turned beet red at that, and he rubbed the back of his head again.

"Once or twice. Like I said, the fae have a very different view of...'sporting' than we mortals do. The fact that they live for time immemorial helps that perspective somewhat."

He tilted his head to the side, the blush being replaced by a quizzical look.

"Y'know, when we came in I was expecting you to be a bit less...well...experienced in the ring. No offense, you looked like the kinda guy who'd take up football or soccer rather than hand-to-hand. You said your...err...mother taught you?"

[Raveled]

Brian laughed. "Actually, I did play football at my old high school. I was a wide receiver and a punter. But yeah, my mom was the one that taught me how to fight." He turned around and sat on the edge of the mat, legs hanging over, forehead resting against the middle rope as he watched the other men in the gym working out on the machines. "I was in kindergarten. On the playground, some kids sat on me, kicked gravel into my face. Teacher came over and broke it up, but by then I was pretty worked up, you know? So I go home, my mom kept me out of school for the rest of the week and spent a lot of time showing me different ways to get away from folks -- breaking holds, mostly. As I got older, she started showing me strikes and holds, throws and takedowns. Nothing really systematic, you understand. Mostly I just rushed her, tried to lay a hand on her, and when the room stopped spinning she'd show me what I did wrong." Brian looked around the gym. "Is there a water fountain or something? My mouth's getting all dry."

[Quinn]

Crow's expression was mixed, but his next words were surprisingly warm as he rummaged around in the bag.

"Treasure that, mate. Trust me on that one."

He took a couple of water bottles out from the gym bag and tossed one to Brian, uncapping his own and taking a long draught. For a moment, he seemed to ponder something, then spoke again.

"Like I said, I'm mostly self-taught. Dornálaíocht, Coraíocht, and Speachóireacht." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Basically boxing, grappling, and, I kid you not, shin-kicking. But don't knock it, a lot of the time when you're fighting some big-name villain, he's expectin' you to go for the face with a solid punch, aye? Heh, giving him a good boot to the shin is usually the last thing they expect."

[Raveled]

Brian gave Morgan a look as he twisted off the cap on his water bottle and took a healthy swallow. "Mom ain't around, so there's nothing to cherish anymore. Probably for the best, all things considered." He sipped at the water for a bit, then made a game attempt at changing the subject. "So, you come down here to work out often? Claremont's gym is pretty sweet, but I get kinda intimidated around metal men who can bench-press cars. I think it might be better to work out around, you know, normal folks instead."

[Quinn]

Crow shook his head, gratified at the sudden subject change. Though Brian's hesitancy to talk more about his mother struck a chord in himself that he didn't like.

"No, actually. First time I've been here, dad gave me the tip-off in his letter from home last week. Still, I sorta see where you're coming from."

He looked out over the gym, a curious expression on his face, then he turned and gave a wry smile to Glowstar.

"Heh, funny, innit? But for the grace of...well, but for the grace of a god, I'd be one of those normal folks. When it comes right down to it, man, all I've got is a few good punches, and I can take a few more hits than the average guy. That coat's what gives me my edge. Hell, if you broke out the glowy right now, you'd probably kick my ass."

He kept the wry smile up, but it turned somewhat brittle as he relaced his gloves.

[Raveled]

Brian watched Morgan pull his gloves on with a sour look on his face. He picked himself up and slipped out of the ring, dropping down to the floor. "Done with fighting," he said, pulling his gloves off and moving towards the weight machines. "Spot me, will ya Morgan?" The young man tied the laces of his glove together and looped them around his neck, then started searching the weight racks next to a bench-press. He grunted as he started adding weight to long bar, until it was about two hundred pounds. Brian settled himself on the bench and wrapped his hands around the bar, but waited for Morgan. "C'mon, man. Tell me about this god you pissed off enough that you're at Claremont."

[Quinn]

Crowe stood behind the weight rack, watching with an approving eye at the amount of weight Brian had piled on. At his friend's next question, the wry smile changed from brittle back to genuine, and he idly leaned on the rack as he talked.

"Actually, 'vengeful god' wouldn't be that inaccurate to describe what my dad looked like when I got home looking myself like ten miles of very ugly road."

The runecaster paused, as if picking his next words very carefully.

"My dad, I told you he used to hero it up here in Freedom City as Red Hand before he moved back to Boston? So...he knew some people around hereabouts. Summers kinda...uh...owed him a favor from way back when, I'm not sure of the specifics myself. But anyway, once he'd finished reading me the riot act about not tellin' him that I was trying the cape and cowl route, he called up the dean. Apparently he thinks I'll do better learning the ropes around here rather than back-alley work back home."

[Raveled]

Brian wrapped his hands around the grip and hefted the weight off the rest, grunting as he starting the reps. "So your dad figured." One rep. "That Freedom City would be." Two reps. "A safer place to train." Three reps. "Than Boston?" He tried for number four, but his sides started shaking and he couldn't get the tension in his muscles to get it off his chest. He might've suffocated there, with the bar over his chest, if Morgan hadn't been ready to pull it up. Once it was in the rests, Brian used the bar to pull himself into a sitting position. He sat there for a long minute, chuckling to himself, before he was able to talk again. "Your dad thought Freedom City was safer than Boston? How long was he here, exactly?"

[Quinn]

Crowe shrugged, pulling up the weights when he saw Brian's face turn blue. Extending a hand, he tugged the guy up and took his own place on the bench, gripping the weights in his hands.

"Bunch of reasons, mate. Back in Boston I worked solo, didn't know anyone who could really back me up. And fae? They aren't really clued on mortal capabilities, unless they're particularly smart ones. That wind fae? She'd probably have called me up in Boston if I was still there, and you can guess how well I'd have done up against all those Fomorians on my own."

He started pumping iron himself. "And fact is." One rep. "Claremont's a.." Two reps. "Great place for..." Three reps. "The rookie hero..." Four reps, and he placed the bars back in the rest himself. "To train. Whew...I mean, Next-Gen and Young Freedom, right?"

[Raveled]

Brian took his place behind the bench, not exactly gripping the bar himself, just guiding it loosely. "Right," he said. "Great bunch of folks around here. White Knight, the Power Corps, the Crime League. Captain Kraken, Hades, the Farsiders, Mastermind. And don't forget that this is the favored stomping ground of just about every alien, terrorist group, or interdimensional invader with a grudge against human beings." He guided the bar back into the rests, vaguely annoyed that Morgan hadn't needed any help. "Face it, man. Freedom League or no, Claremont or no, this is a crazy town we live in." He reached down and slapped the other teen's chest, a grin creeping across his face. "You know, it ain't too late to take that coat and make a stunning entry into the world of fashion. Superpowered clothes could be all the rage this year."

[Quinn]

Crowe laughed, giving Brian a return chuck to the shoulder.

"Yeah, I can see it now, this mug plastered all over Cosmopolitan and those other mags you see on the convinience store racks, maybe even Time Magazine. 'Tailor Of The Year'."

He stood, posing as if on a magazine cover. A few seconds later the pose dissolved as he leaned on the bars and a gale of laughter erupted from him, shortly followed by hiccups.

"Hah...heh...dude, remember what happened last time I tried copying one of the runes on this thing to another piece of clothing? I don't think we've gotten the scorch marks off your wall yet. And besides, my mo...."

He caught himself, coughing and shifting gears remarkably quickly.

"My...uh...the person who made me the coat'd be a mite unimpressed, man. Still, it's a thought if I ever decide to skip professional boxing, eh?"

[Raveled]

Brian grimaced at the memory. "Yeah man, I remember that." For some reason the novice runemaster had tried to put something called 'the Rune of the Ghost' on one of Brian's jerseys, and the shirt had ended up half-embedded in the wall before igniting. "You still haven't gotten me a new Rayguns shirt, man. The season's almost here; I can't be out there, cheering on 'Lancer' Tyler, in any old tee, you know!" Brian had embraced Freedom City's sports teams enthusiastically, and whenever there was a game on television he could be counted on to be in the crowd, cheering them on despite the odds. He hadn't managed to actually get out to any games yet, but hope springs eternal.

[Quinn]

Crow rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to reply. About a second after he did that, the teen stopped cold, looking behind his friend. His eyes went somewhat wide, and as Brian turned to look, following the line from Morgan's eyes to the door, he saw a truly prodigiously tall man stoop (stoop!) to walk through the door of the gym. He wore a ratty old trenchcoat and a weather-beaten hat, and had the body of a linebacker, except turned up to eleven. Huge thick-set shoulders and hamsized hands, gunboat shoes and slabs of muscle that would have been hard to miss even underneath the rather thin disguise. Morgan quickly turned the two of them around so their backs were to the newcomer, acting as small as possible.

"Ah...cac. Bri, remember when I told you about fae and...uh...sporting? Specifically the ramifications thereof?"

[Raveled]

Brian gave the huge figure a glanced, then patted Morgan on the back. "Dude, don't sweat it. It was a football captain back home, I stole ladies all the time." That was more than a slight exaggeration. He had been on the football team, as a wide receiver; and he had stolen a girl. A girl, after the rumor mill decided that her then-boyfriend was getting shipped to military school. That had lasted all of a week before the pair had gotten back together

Brian sauntered up to the troll, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, man. Can I help you find something? Doesn't hardly look like you need the weights, after all."

[Quinn]

The big bruiser looked down at him, then spoke in a surprisingly eloquent New England accent.

"Oh, no thank you. I believe I just found it."

Then, one of those extremely large fists clenched around the front of Brian's sweater, lifting him up, up, up until his face was level with the new arrival. Despite the eloquent accent, the beast's face was hideous, a big pug nose, slate-colored eyes, yellow brick teeth, and breath that would have knocked a buzzard out at a hundred paces.

"My name is Thunk. Yes, it's an unfortunate name, I'm rather ashamed of it, but when you have parents whose vocabularies consist of grunt, fart, and roar, you take what you can get. Now, I believe you made the acquaintance of a young lady fae some weeks ago. This lady fae and her sisters are my brothers and my future wives. At least, once they come to their senses and stop running whenever we come to call."

He lifted the now struggling Brian higher, over his head.

"Now, we dislike it when other young men pay visits to these young ladies. So we must make certain they don't do so again. Hospital visits do truly do wonders for cooling the ardor of would-be suitors. To wit..."

Brian flew a truly prodigious distance, crashing into Crow and sending them both down in a heap.

[Raveled]

Brian wasn't expecting such a physical confrontation; even supervillains usually had a period of monologuing and threats before they actually struck back. The young hero wasn't prepared for the troll to pick him up and throw him the length of the gym, and it was only by great good luck that he avoided a broken back or worse. Still, he picked himself up quickly and stared down the mythical leg-breaker. "Wrong move," he said. In a flash, the teen was surrounded by a crackling red force field, the same hue as his now-glowing eyes. With a scream he rushed forward and literally flew at the troll. Just a moment before they impacted, his force field distended, stretching out into a gigantic, semi-translucent cow-catcher that picked the monster up off its feet and bowled it out the door and into the street.

Glowstar hung there in the air a moment, looking between his fist and the hole where the doors had been a moment ago. "Did I do that?"

[Quinn]

A whisper of wind and Crow was standing beside Glowstar, his coat on, hood up, and bandanna hastily tied about his face. He looked at the hole where the door used to be, then turned his head to look at 'star with a raised eyebrow. The regular patrons calmly went about their buisness, inured to this sort of thing as only Freedonians could be.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd say you did."

The tone sounded amused, and his friend even gave a little chuckle...that shortly choked off, as another pair of bruisers, somewhat smaller than their supine brother, came hurrying out of nearby alleys.

"Glow, I'm never introducing you to a girl ever again."

[Quinn]

The troll's roar was earsplitting, it's fine accent discarded like a leaf in the wind as it picked itself up and barreled down on Glowstar. Thunk pulled a fist back and the sound of knuckles popping were audible even as it's gunboat shoes pounded on the pavement; swinging in a wide haymaker, the cement-block sized hand descended to strike...