fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Saturday Evening

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The Salle, Saturday Evening

Look, Surreal had learned a few things from living with Miley, even if they'd never agreed on music. Ever. In any alternate universe.

How to operate a CD player was one of them, and Surreal barely fumbled with using the right buttons. What blasted out, however, was not one of her former roommate's pop songs, but something a bit more to Surreal's tastes.

Anyone who complained about her opera would probably meet the same fate as the heavy bag she was currently maiming. She liked this moo-vee! The music was excellent!

[OOC: Open salle! I AM HOME ALONE WITH CATS AND NO LAD AND HAVE TO STAY UP UNTIL MIDNIGHT. AMUSE ME PEOPLE.]

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Surreal just raised an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, did you do to piss him off? Kiss his daughter?"

IT WAS A FAIR QUESTION, WHEN YOU GREW UP AROUND A MALE LIKE SADI.

Oh, so much fidgeting, now.

"I didn't like the way he was trying to destroy or enslave every non-mutant human in the world, so I hit him."

... Well, 'hit' him. From behind with both fists while flying, and then again with eye-lasers. As you do.

OH COME ON BOYO, THIS WAS LIKE KICKING A PUPPY.

"Well, good for you," she answered, walking over and reaching out a hand to slow the swaying of the bag she'd been experimenting on.

"Now come at me."

Clearly, the boy had more to learn about fighting dirty if he was going to pick fights with people stronger than him.

"At you?" Evan actually looked kind of stunned there for a moment, blinking Surreal's way and trying to absorb that. He knew she could handle herself. After all, she had knocked the heavy bag clear from its chain and had complained that there wasn't anything stronger to swing at. And he had come here hoping to get some proper training in...

And so he took a deep breath, nodded, and then came at her running, hands in fists and ready to take a swing.

This was probably not going to work out so well for Evan, no.

No, Evan, not in the slightest. Not at allllllll.

Surreal just stepped to the side, smoothly sliding into a spin that would put her booted foot right in the small of his back.

"Oof!"

And that would be Evan, stumbling the next few steps with a bruise forming on his lower back for his efforts. He wasn't about to be deterred so easily, though. He spun on his heel, ignoring he ache, and threw a fist at her again from right where he was standing, his arm stretching the distance between them and swinging his hand at her, whip-like.

A flicker of her fingers, and Surreal's Green vanished, leaving her with only the power in her own body and no extra tricks of Craft woven into the jewel.

She was rather sure she didn't need them.

The fist-whip was clever, and rather than pull a knife - which was her first instinct - she gave her sharp smile instead, moving with the quick motions of his arm, swaying back-and-forth while closing the distance between them to throw him off.

Evan's Uncle Cluster would have been so disappointed in him if all it took to really throw him off was getting in close to him, though the swaying was doing a bit of a number on him. He adjusted the length of his arm to compensate, while keeping his other up, close to his body, ready to swing down or out for a block if need be.

Aside from the arm that was already trying to keep up with her, he was mostly on the defensive, yes.

Hopefully that arm really was ready to swing down, then, because Surreal took a sudden dive, feet first to swipe his legs out from under him. Defensive posture wasn't going to win this fight, since her hands were already reaching to yank down on his arm, hard, in case he somehow managed to defend his legs.

So far as fifteen year old kid reflexes went... Evan's weren't too terrible. Really, he'd been training for a few years under the guidance of a master assassin, and Fantomex didn't exactly want the kid dead. He just wanted him to not destroy the Earth, which wasn't asking much of the boy, really, was it?

And so Evan did manage to keep his footing after Surreal's sweep, his far leg deforming to the shape of her kick while he lifted the other from the floor. Which... could have ended far more poorly, in retrospect, with her feet between his knees, if not for the fact that his other hand had been there for her to grab, and the yank had him stumbling forward all the same, his free arm pinwheeling wildly before he pitched forward toward her.

With... all the grace of a fifteen-year-old boy.

Look, just because he'd been trained for four years by an assassin didn't mean he could hold his own against one.

Edited 2012-11-11 22:02 (UTC)

She wasn't going to shave the lad with a good kick! ...yes, she could have, but that was just mean.

Surreal gave another good yank, using her momentum to try and flip them over so she'd land straddling his chest. Assuming he didn't go all jelly on her, that was.

She was also an assassin-in-training with boobs, and Surreal totally wasn't too shy to flash them a bit in her corset to distract him.

Yeah, Evan didn't stand a chance, landing with an oof on the flat of his back and then staring up at her, wide-eyed. Because, beyond the fact that he was now staring up toward the ceiling with a pretty girl sitting on him, he was also... still fifteen.

His wee little brain was hitting short-circuit mode, and he was blushing and stammering and trying to avert his eyes, even while being thumped to the ground. Which was a polite gesture that his Ma would approve of, at least, but it probably wasn't going to do him any good in this particular situation, and he knew it.

"I could have drawn a knife at any point in there, and you'd be dead now," Surreal said calmly, staring down at him. "Don't matter that I'm female, boyo. My face is up here - an so's my tits - but that don't make you less dead."

"Let me know next time you actually wanna fight, and not just indulge the random girlchild working out in the gym."

And now Evan's blush was that much deeper.

"You're really, really good at that," he offered, murmuring awkwardly. "I really didn't stand a chance there, did I?"

But he was very good at getting throttled. That was good to know...

"No, because you were pulling your punches. If you want to win, you have to be willing to make the other person hurt," Surreal answered brusquely, pushing herself off him.

"And no, you didn't. Cleverer, crueler boys than you have met their end at my hands. That's the trick." Surreal looked down at him. "If you know how to kill them, and are willing to go there, you can always win. That's the catch. You can't win if you're not willing to make the cut. Not against me, and not against that man that hurt you."

And that had been how Archangel had been stopped. Evan remembered vaguely, waking up to the chaos afterwards, Uncle Cluster nearby to assure him that he did well. People liberally coated in blood...

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and then pushed himself into a sitting position, running his hands through his hair.

"But I don't want to kill people," he said, his voice quiet. "I want to learn how to fight, in case I ever need to, and my Uncle's not here to keep training me. But killing..."

The thought of killing somebody made his insides churn. That wasn't what heroes did.

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The Salle, Saturday Evening

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