[BAT] Jan and Drew Beat The s**t Out of Each Other

[cibarium]

There was one thing for certain: it was very nice to be able to talk with Franz on the phone again, new romantic overtones or not. Janice had forgotten just how good it was to have an intelligent conversation within arm's reach 24 hours a day -- and now it was even better, her day being punctuated with text messages between classes and during other times of day when they couldn't talk: I just found a strand of your hair on my shirt; we talked about Machiavelli in history and I thought of you; I would so rule a nation with justifiable cruelty if it was for your sake -- but as you know my fealty is forever sworn to the republic of Janice Fitzpatrick :-).

"We'll have to pick this up later," she was saying into her phone, as her walking led her to a row of warehouses on the edge of town. "I have an appointment, and you know what they say about keeping people waiting. It's just not polite... so forgive me for my temporary impoliteness towards you, Sasha."

Her lack of combat experience was agreed to be something in immediate need of addressing, and so she'd been assigned to get some training on that front from another officer by the name of Obsidian. Janice had gone in her civilian form, and assumed her would-be trainer would be doing the same, just for the sake of them knowing. If it weren't for that, though, she definitely would have preferred showing up as Uranophane -- along with the general physical prowess, her uniform was much better insulated than any of her mundane clothing was. And it was cold outside.

She scanned the large, probably flimsy structures around her, looking for any sign Obsidian was around yet -- maybe part of her training was going to be to find him?  

[Tsunake]

Someone he'd been given the job of 'beating the s**t out of the new meat sacks'. Scheelite had been the first, and Obsidian had been more than willing to go head-to-head with fail!raver. He'd gotten paid for it. This? No, this had been an order, and though he had no qualms about it, Obsidian didn't like orders. Andrew Collins had his hands tucked into his pockets even as he idly strolled among the silent warehouses as though sight seeing.

In a matter of seconds, he was transformed into Obsidian, leaping from roof top to roof top, stretching his legs as well as idly looking for this new recruit he was supposed to help beat into shape.

The only one he found wandering around was a man--no, a manly looking girl who looked all too familiar... Obsidian dropped soundlessly from the roof, felt the chill bite at his hands even as he reverted back to Andrew Collins. "Janice, wasn't it?" He drawled, hands slipping back into his pockets even as he strolled out into plain sight. "This is a surprise..." In more ways than one. The same girl at the mall, the one with the sadistic streak.

He liked surprises.

"Tell me; what's a girl like you doing all the way out here?" The man asked, his eyes narrowed subtly even as they flicked to and fro over her form. There were two possibilities here; she had no sense of direction, and he was going to have a fresh star seed after all this tonight, or there was a secret that Miss Janice had been hiding.  

[cibarium]

Janice turned around, and when she saw the face behind the familiar voice she all to easily fell into a pleasantly surprised grin, her posture falling from one of caution to something more relaxed.

"Andrew Collins!" she replied, a hand lifting up to push a lock of murky hair out of her face before stroking the same chin. "I could say all these same things to you, you know. It's not as if this is where you'd see someone going out for a stroll." She let her gaze roll to the side, past the buildings again, toying with the thought that maybe he was renting one of the warehouses here... but there were no vehicles, no sign this was the case.

What an interesting coincidence -- if that's what it truly was, anyway.

"But since you asked first," Janice continued, "well. I was arranged to meet with someone here." She gave a shrug. "Not a very interesting story, I'm afraid."  

[Tsunake]

So, she recognized him. He'd have been insulted if she hadn't, considering their special little bonding time. "Correctamundo." There was a light grin at his name, and he only stretched his arms out somewhat as though to shrug off her clever retort. "Well, the difference being I am legally an adult and am entirely expected to engage in activities that will undoubtedly get me arrested." Drugs, murder, what have you. And he very much enjoyed the second; it made his skin crawl even now just thinking about it.


"A meeting..." Andrew sounded thoughtful still, but there was something practically venomous in his gaze that glittered in an almost pleased sort of way. But there was really no sense in getting his hopes up, not without cutting right to the chase. Then, from there on out, it would be a win-win situation for him, at least in his mind.

"I'd say you're wrong, there. I think it's very interesting story... I'm here to meet someone too." And that was when his very clothes seemed to ripple before they changed all together, shifting to his uniform even as he continued on as though he hadn't even noticed. "But only that certain someone, you see--tricky things, illegal activities. Spoils all the fun if the wrong people find out..."

It might have been a mere statement, or it might have been a threat.  

[cibarium]

Drew had all the right to expect Janice would remember him: Janice certainly hadn't forgotten that day at the mall, even if the encounter couldn't have been more than ten minutes. It was just far too entertaining an experience to end up lost in the current of bland everyday life that surrounded it; that, and the girl's memory had always been a steel trap for names on interesting faces. She didn't know of anyone else in town who wore their hair quite like that, on top of everything else.

Their eyes were locked -- for a second it looked as if that little spark in his gaze was reflected in Janice's own. They were both hoping, and, perhaps, both knew even before Drew allowed Obsidian's uniform to replace his civilian skin.

Nonetheless, the girl's grin widened at this development, and for a few seconds she couldn't help but laugh.

"Now, would you look at that... another person I know turns out to be in the ranks," she chuckled. And, with a playful quirk of the brow, "At least it goes to show I don't have bad taste in friends. You must be Obsidian."

Before she'd even finished speaking, she'd undergone a wardrobe change herself. Uranophane was probably the most conservatively dressed female lieutenants Obsidian had seen yet -- really, she was one of the most (if not THE most) conservatively dressed officers in the entire Negaverse. She was literally covered from toetip to jawline. Her hands were busying themselves adjusting her gloves, pulling at them and stretching her fingers against the rubber.

"I guess that takes care of the formalities, then." She was still grinning.  

[Tsunake]

There.

The man allowed himself an open grin of satisfaction as she seemed to react as though pleased, rather than... well, he couldn't exactly picture Janice as frightened or confused. Curious, more than likely, but there was none of that either. "And you must be what's-her-a**." Obsidian said in a tone that was almost friendly. Started with 'U', that was all he bothered to remember. Good taste in friends indeed, however. Finally seemed like Charonite had found someone who wasn't obsessed with neon glowsticks and crack (sorry Scheelite).

It was hard for him not to stare at exactly what the hell she was wearing, idly taking in the odd attire even as a wise-a** comment slipped out before he could help it. If he'd cared to help it. "What, confusing people about your gender again with this little get-up? I was thinking a bikini, a thong..." An idle hand wave, but her last comment did earn another faint grin.

Formalities indeed.

"So. You suck at kicking a**. That's why you're here." He'd continue on before she could voice a protest, if there was one. Hell, as far as he was concerned, it was true. "But since you seem to have... natural tendencies towards humiliation, pain isn't that far off." A brow quirked itself at her even as he turned and moved towards one of the warehouses, waving her after him over one shoulder. Better to do this away from wandering eyes. Pulling open one door with a loud creak, the lieutenant ducked into the darkness, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of moonlight. To do this in the dark, or to pretend to bother with a light switch...

Definitely the former. "The best way to learn is by experience. And since I don't know what the hell you can all do... well, this'll be fun." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Any objections?" He strode further into the warehouse before he'd turn towards the main door, figuring she'd followed him inside.  

[cibarium]

"Uranophane," she corrected a bit offhandedly, not really seeming too bothered Obsidian had forgotten it, and not fully expecting that it would stick any more with a second reminder. For all she knew he would be referring to her as 'What's-Her-a**' from here on out -- directing future underlings to General What's-Her-a** for training exercises and mission debriefing and the like.

She couldn't help but be amused at his remarks on her attire, though. That was Drew for you, and she happened to find his wisecracks entertaining even if she happened to be their target. "I think if my uniform were a bikini I'd have no need for a weapon," she smirked in response. "The opposition would just be so dazzled by my amazing good looks that they wouldn't be able to defend themselves."

It was true -- a crude way to put it, but Uranophane did lack some skill in the a**-kicking department -- so she just confirmed his statement with a shrug and a nod. Why hide it, trying to cover something she perceived as a problem that could be fixed seemed utterly idiotic. So she obediently (and with a small sprinkling of eagerness) she followed her trainer into the warehouse, blinking a few times as she adjusted to the light. The ghostly-glowing lenses perches on her forehead made her face fairly visible, painted in a faint acid green.

She looked eager to get started when he looked back at her, and she was saying, "Agreed, no objections here. And you have my word I won't succumb to gender stereotypes and cry when I take a hit."  

[Tsunake]

"Doctor Manjaw." He countered flippantly, and there was a soft exhalation at the mention of her promising not to cry. It was the beginning of a chuckle, and he was probably grinning a little in the dark, but it would take a minute still for both their eyes to adjust. Still, he allowed himself a few slow and purposeful steps, letting the sound of his boots resound through the warehouse. He'd go easy on her first, let her hear his footsteps so she could get an idea on his location and react accordingly.

But then he'd shift his weight to the balls of his feet, and the warehouse went dead silent. It would undoubtedly be a little intimidating to the less confident members of the Negaverse, but hell, if he couldn't have a little fun while doing this, there was simply no point.

A fist would fly out of the darkness from behind her, and would smack her solidly in the back of the head if she just stood there. Hard enough to hurt, probably, but it was little more than an annoyance. If she dodged it, he'd be impressed, and the lesson would advance on from there.  

[cibarium]

The verbal counter got a short laugh out of her -- Doctor Manjaw, now that was observant. Obsidian was brutally honest with his perspectives and Uranophane found this both refreshing and entertaining, and he got points for being more creative than the dozen brats in middle school who had incessantly referred to her as 'Janny the Tranny' and thought they were clever for it.

Footsteps, then near-silence. This was a new feeling, trying to parse together where Obsidian might be going based on the small scraps of information he'd given her. It was enough to set her in a vigilant stance, at least, and that was something; it was apparent she was making an effort feel out an unfamiliar situation instead of panicking or standing around like an idiot waiting to get her a** handed to her.

Unfortunately, being prepared and level-headed wasn't quite enough. His knuckles nailed her straight in the back of the head, it pushed her torso forward -- but she was moving already, putting some use to the momentum. Her reaction was mostly aimless, provided by the sudden awareness that he was somewhere behind her: her foot swept out in the hopes it would catch a shin.  

[Tsunake]

Janny the Tranny... Well, as far as he was concerned, Khaldun already had the proverbial hermaphrodite shoes filled, and two was a crowd. He felt his fist smash directly into the back of her skull, felt that little flutter of satisfaction somewhere in his chest before she reacted. That was good, showed she was willing to improvise. Said foot would smash into his shin, and though it hurt and made him wobble a little, he was still upright.

"Almost." The lieutenant said almost conversationally, not moving an inch. "Ankles are better. Haven't seen any senshi wearing boots so far, so one good sweeping kick and you should send them toppling over and down. If they're inexperienced, of course, which, s**t, most of the ones I've seen have been." Inexperienced and plain stupid.

There was a strange, a heavy thump. Obsidian was now lacking a boot. "Again." He offered, and though it wasn't quite a question, if she didn't take the offer, it would likely vanish into thin air.  

[cibarium]

Uranophane turned around and took a couple of steps backward, attentively regarding the space Obsidian was occupying judging by where she was hearing his voice come from. If she concentrated she could just barely make out his silhouette against assorted different forms behind him: a lamp, some stacked boxes; a large, fake potted plant. Her eyes wandered idly to other items of interest, but she was still listening, her expression contemplative.

The boot was off, Obsidian was willingly open; Uranophane took the offer with a few confident steps back towards him.

Except when she made her next room, it wasn't a lower-aimed sweep of her leg -- instead she lifted her boot and drove its heel straight towards Obsidian's foot.  

[Tsunake]

The man would roar as his toes threatened to crunch underneath the weight of her boot--but there was a wild sort of sniggering that threatened to get stuck in his throat and choke him. Yes, he was pissed, but he was also delighted that she'd taken initiative and done something other than the norm.

Her reward would be a fist in the face, and his arm around her throat as he tried to bring her down hard to the floor. Next lesson, it seemed, but this one would be unspoken. He was definitely heavier than she was, so what could she do to free herself from being precariously pinned?

If that wasn't bad enough, he was starting to rip at her hair, not quite to the point where he was just going to wail on her face with his fists. That might be soon, if she didn't find a way to wiggle out of this situation.  

[cibarium]

The glow of her eyewear was just enough to show the edges of her face lifting up in a smug smile at the successful hit. But that didn't last long at all -- she'd barely even registered that she'd been punched in the face before she realized her neck was in an armlock. The lesson was clear without it having to be spelled out to her: meticulously planning out her every move was useful in chess matches and human macromanagement, but there was only so much that skill could do for her in close combat, especially when she knew next to nothing about her opponent's fighting style.

She clawed blindly, uselessly at Obsidian's arm for a second, before her logic allowed itself to kick in again and one of her arms flew backwards in an attempt at driving an elbow into his ribs. A boot also swept back again in search of her opponent's still exposed foot; there was probably a low chance at hitting him with that trick again, but hopefully getting him to change his stance would do something for her.