fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Sunday Crack o'Dawn Until Well Into The Afternoon

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The Salle, Sunday Crack o'Dawn Until Well Into The Afternoon

You got used to certain things, in Jaeger Academy. Like getting up at five sharp and spending the next fourteen hours in the Kwoon, working your arse off. Chuck didn't have any instructors now, or any fellow students to practice against-- didn't matter. He'd been slacking for over a week now, waiting for this new school, and it was time to pick things back up again.

Even if he was nursing a minor hangover. In fact, the hangover helped pick up the right level of aggression - that level that he was unleashing on one of the poor practice dummies right now. Going through the forms, hitting at least half of the major ones. Keep going. Keep working at it.

When he got back to the Academy in summer, he had to be in the same shape as everyone else. It didn't matter he'd be forced to stick to a crazy island boarding school, or that his father seemed to have lost his goddamned mind-- he was gonna keep working for it.

Max sat in the corner of the room, his leash tied to one of the benches. Training or not, there was no way Chuck was letting the pup out of his sight.

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Isabelle snickered.

Sorry, she shared Jace's tendency to poke at annoyed people, rather than Alec's flair for scowling at them from afar. But, she moved towards the dummies, the heels on her shoes click-click-clicking against the floor as she did.

"Am I keeping you from doing something?"

Ah, there was both the facial twitch and that desire to punch her again.

"Oh, no, if you want to keep acting useless, by all means."

He stepped back into another one of the Jaeger martial arts forms and poured his angry focus into that.

Isabelle watched him idly, even as she went to drag a dummy out for herself. Yet to decide what she wanted to do with it.

"So your dog's happiness is useless. Got it."

"What, you think you're the dog whisperer now?"

Ow. Poor dummy. That had to hurt.

"No, I think dogs are simple creatures who are happy when you pay attention to them. Which I did." She tugged the handle of her whip free from her belt loop. "No whispering required."

"Here's a request," Chuck said, taking a step back again. "Pay attention to your dummy, not my dog."

"Here's a piece of advice," Isabelle retorted idly, examining the whip, "try not being so hostile, it'll make your life easier."

"Here's another request," Chuck replied. He cast a look her way. "Shove your advice up your arse, yeah?"

"That's no way to speak to a lady."

Well. At least one with that kind of a dangerous, devious glint to her smirk.

Chuck rolled his eyes at her. "I don't care what you've got in your knickers," he said. "Act like a dick, I'll speak however I want."

Yeah.

That was Isabelle's electrum whip slashing low through the air to curl around Chuck's ankles, almost as if of its own volition.

And this – immediately afterwards, more or less as part of the same smooth movement – was Isabelle giving the whip the kind of sharp yank that was meant to tighten the coil and topple him over.

It was a trick that only ever worked once on any given person. But man, it was a good trick to use that one time.

"The he--"

Chuck was a sturdy guy; if it wasn't for the element of surprise, he wouldn't have fallen at all.

His back hit the ground. Hard.

Was she out of her fucking mind?!

Probably. It was kind of hard to tell with Shadowhunters, though.

The whip loosened around his ankles and returned to her. Well, she pulled it back to her with another flick of her wrist.

"And that's what happens when you call me names, sweetheart."

A sane person might've gone to the teachers. Complained. Maybe yelled at Isabelle a bit first.

Sane people were not Chuck Hansen, occasional pub brawler and student of dirty boxing tricks.

He scrambled forward as hard as he scrambled up onto his feet while she was still talking, physically hurling himself at her. And if that didn't hit, well, he'd fall back on his reflexes by having a go at her instep.

Isabelle wasn't dumb enough not to expect retaliation, and there was the not insignificant matter of her supernatural reflexes, so just barreling at her didn't work. Attacking her poor foot, though, got a hiss out of her, even though she didn't come down here with particularly flimsy shoes on.

But getting close enough like that also meant she thrust her palm sharply up against his chin. Reflexes there, too.

Oh, that hurt like a motherfucker.

Just more fuel on the fire, though, as Chuck finally threw that punch he'd been holding back.

At her stomach, not her head. He wasn't an idiot; he knew anyone would see that coming.

Yeah, that hurt too, even with Isabelle's last-second effort to block it. But she didn't stumble, so there was that. And, a punch for a punch, right?

She went pretty low, too.

Chuck brought up a knee to protect himself because-- he needed that. (For something. In the future. Whatever, it wasn't important.)

This had the side-effect of making him look ridiculous for a few seconds, but as long as it bought him precious time to take a step back to regroup-- there we go.

Isabelle didn't have time to laugh, anyway.

No, she was coming back in hard with a few quick jabs. Had a plan, and those were just a step on the way.

So much for that. Should've known he was better in the moment anyway.

She knew what she was doing, that was for sure - it fucking hurt even worse.

But at least with her this close, Chuck could get away with a headbutt.

... Okay, ow. Yes, that connected – and there were a few people around the island who'd have had something to say about banging two hard heads together – and yes, it hurt. A lot.

Isabelle dealt with the pain by turning and trying to grab his arm so she could use that for leverage in a subsequent attempt at sweeping his legs out from underneath him.

That's where Chuck's superior weight came into play. As soon as his arm got near her hand, he shoved his elbow at her using the full power of his body.

That had the advantage of - however briefly - taking the brunt of his weight off his knees, too.

Yeah, Isabelle staggered backwards for a step or two after that.

She had a lot of things working for her advantage but the weight thing was not one of them, tall and not particularly petite though she was.

Chuck had two options: push it or stop.

And stopping hadn't worked out so well for him last time.

So, you know. No better way to try and finish a good brawl than with a full-body tackle.

Isabelle rolled with it. Almost literally. She wasn't so arrogant as to think she wasn't going to topple over, so she made the reflexive decision to go with the movement and try and keep from getting hurt in any unnecessary ways.

And then to try and kick up with a knee as soon as they were down, because like hell would a simple tackle finish this.

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