combat training mingle log

[policier]

characters: everyone
location: the village gymnasium
date/time: every wednesday & friday throughout october
content: at the town hall last month, javert offered to set up a place for combat training. this is him making good on his promise. as he mentioned in his bulletin ad, these sessions are open to absolutely everyone, not just those who want to learn how to fight. partner up with someone and spar. do whatever you want, just don't hurt each other too badly—or javert will have words with you.
warnings: violence

setup

The gym's certainly seen better days, with it's crumbling walls and lost ceiling tiles. Javert doesn't need it to be pretty, though. He only needs it to be functional. In the last week, he's been doing what he can to clean it up, washing the floors and making some minor structural repairs.

Once the first day of combat training begin, the day after the ferry sinks, it's as clean as it possibly can be without any sort of overhaul. There are mats set up along one end of the gym, for people to stretch or otherwise use for sparring, and a collection of swords near the door. Some are blunted and old, perfect for training — though they may still hurt — while others are sharp or unwieldy, and will need to be handled with care. Use them, Javert says, but return them when you are finished.

There's a tiny collection of knives, too, though there aren't any targets to practice throwing them at. It's a work in progress. For light, there's a torch set up along the wall, illuminating the room and allowing combatants to spread themselves out from one another.

meetings

For the sake of not being micromanagey, there isn't going to be any formal structure to these practices. Javert is available to teach hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, should anyone wish it. He's also enlisted the aid of Jason Grace, who will teach hand-to-hand and swordsmanship, and Bucky Barnes, who is proficient in knife fighting as well as hand-to-hand combat. Anyone else, of course, may teach others as they please. Just this once, Javert's not going to be a stickler for formalities. He just wants to see everyone making productive use of their time, in some fashion.

Training will run from seven o'clock to nine o'clock in the evening. Arrive promptly, or Javert will berate you for being disruptive. No one is required to come to every single meeting, so come as often or as little as you like. If regular exercise is supposed to help combat the effects of total darkness, why not give it a try?

Comments

[savingthrows]

Eleven waits. She can have patience, in moments like this. She feels a pull to him that's not dissimilar from the pull she felt towards Kali. He doesn't have a number, he's from something else, but...

They're still alike.

The word for that is brother, but she doesn't tell him that.

"I'm Eleven."

She hesitates, then holds out her left wrist so he can see the "011" tattoo there more clearly.

"I was Experiment 011. Sometimes... sometimes I think that was... easier. I tried to be Jane, but... I'm Eleven."

She nods, reaffirming her choices to herself. And then she offers something important to him:

"My friends call me El. You can, if you want to."

Not the nickname. But the choice to use it.

[worthallthis]

Does... that mean it has three friends now? She's a little small compared to the other two, at first glance, but whatever's in that little body is obviously bigger than what's in the Soldier's huge one. Besides, it's not about to turn down an offer like that.

Three friends, then. She gets a little smile, for that.

"El. Okay." It reaches over slowly with the flesh hand and covers the tattoo with palm and fingers for three seconds before letting her go again. Wrists are weirdly more comfortable to hold than hands. Possibly the increased ease of escape for both of them. A quick twist, and she'd be free. "I don't have a name. They called me the Asset. But in Beacon people don't like that much, so they mostly call me Soldat." If she ever actually learned Russian in all her spying on them, she'll recognize the meaning as "soldier". With luck it's far enough from the English word that it won't freak her out too badly, though.

[savingthrows]

If she were anyone else, perhaps her mind would make the connection from Soldat to soldier, either through language or just through the similarities in the words. But Eleven, while far from stupid, is not that kind of clever. She squints instead.

"Soldat."

She repeats it as best she can. Doesn't quite get the pronounciation right.

Still, she makes an effort. And she gives him a shy smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Soldat."

[worthallthis]

Eh. Close enough. The Soldier is not particularly picky about what people call it, as long as it isn't outright insulting. (And sometimes even then, it's okay. Depending.) "Right back atcha, El." It's capable of sounding casual and friendly, now and then.

This has been an exhausting conversation, though, on top of an exhausting time with a bunch of people staring at it and having to touch it. While its arm plates aren't shifting around, the internal workings are tense. Its handler is still in the gym, and might be looking for it. "I should go finish cleaning up. And get permission from Inspector Javert to leave." Then the idea occurs: "You wanna wait a little? And I'll walk you back?"

It's even petty sure it knows where she lives. It's seen those curls through the neighbor's window.