fandomtownies | Atlas Gym, Tuesday Afternoon

There was Ponytail! ...Completely fascinated by the little computer-thing attached to a high-tech piece of exercise equipment. Poking at it.

Oh, hey, Sifu Pajamaman! Sokka trotted up to him and bowed respectfully.

"Awww," Deadpool said, grinning at the display. "No need to bow!"

"Yeah," Sokka admitted, "but if I'm a respectful and attentive minion, I'll get the gun faster, right? Besides, you're, like, awesome and stuff."

That earned him a laugh. "Oh, I don't care about respect with the bowing crap. Just that you know not to say stuff unless you can beat the crap out of the other person." A beat. "Or just not get too horrible emasculated in the fight."

Sokka sighed dramatically and made a pouty face. "But that means I'll never be able to insult you."

Then he grinned. "Okay, so what's the first lesson?"

Deadpool patted Sokka on the head. "Well, if you planned ahead..."

And with that, he took a shot at Sokka's head. Not a terribly hard punch to dodge, but still... Punchy!

Fortunately, Sokka had sparred with Deadpool before and was kind of expecting that to happen. And had been debating how long to talk before throwing his own punch.

So he dodged pretty well -- but he also tried to thow a counter punch that he wasn't quite ready to throw, so he put himself off-balance and left his side open.

"I mean, a lot of tranquilizers will put me down for long enough. Or maybe a head shot! Those take a while to heal back from," Deadpool suggested, side stepping the punch as he grabbed onto Sokka's arm to pull him closer and down into a hold. "Though you have to be a good shot with that plan."

"I'm a very good shot," Sokka protested, as he struggled to break free. "But it's still not a good idea, because you'd eventually wake up."

No getting free. Darn. So Sokka brought his heel down as hard as he could on Deadpool's toes.

Deadpool just rolled his eyes. "Steel toe bo~ots!"

"Oh, now that's not fair!" Sokka protested. "How is that fair?!?!"

He aimed another kick, this time at the shin-- nah, what the heck, it was pretty much traditional, now, wasn't it? He kicked as hard as he could at Deadpool's knee.

"Fine, fine," Deadpool said. "Next time, I won't have the boots. But the shin guards stay!"

Aaaaand that would be yet another broken knee.

"Oh, come ON! Can't you kids get more original in where you aim?" He dropped his hold on Sokka, shoving him back so he could set the damn joint. "Try the ankle, or maybe solar plexus!"

"But it's traditional," Sokka insisted. Plus, it worked. And on Deadpool, it didn't do any lasting damage. All plusses.

And, because Deadpool was bent over and fiddling with his knee, and because some of the way-too-much television Sokka watched included some WWE, he just had to try a flying elbow drop. "YEEEEEEEEEAA!!!"

Deadpool made a mental note to give the kid a list of fighty movies and shows that were acceptable to emmulate. "Traditional schmaditional! pick a new thing to try and break!"

Not waiting for the damage to heal completely, he dropped down, ducking backwards to let Sokka hit air and, if he wasn't careful, some mat.

Oh, Sokka hadn't really thought it'd work, he just thought it'd be fun to try it once.

So he hit some mat and rolled, and then stayed low and tried to sweep Deadpool's legs out from under him.

"Good! Thinking quickly!" Deadpool encouraged, jumping up a touch clumsily with only one leg really working. "You get some refinement and a little practice, you might not be half bad at this!"

Landing on one foot a la Kerri Strug, Deadpool pumped his fists in the air. "No Russian coach to hug me now though." This was truly sad.

Oh well, he had things to do, bones to set with a loud crack as he lashed out with a roundhouse.

"Hey, I ALWAYS think quickly," Sokka replied.

And then came the roundhouse. "Aw, I just stood up!" he complained, as he tried to dodge and just ended up falling over backwards.

"Then keep thinkin' quickly!" Deadpool taunted, bouncing back. He moved from one foot tot he other like a boxer, waiting for Sokka to catch his bearings. "The more practice ya get at turning a hit into your advantage, the more likely it'll, oh, I dunno... work?"

Sokka shrugged. "Okay."

He launched an inelegant flurry of blows at Deadpool that weren't so much supposed to hit him as keep him busy, and tried to maneuver the fight out of the middle of the room and over closer to the weight machines.

Which had Deadpool blocking quickly, tilting his head as Sokka was trying to push him toward the equipment. Not a bad idea, really.

So he kinda went with it. "So, why are the side all shaved? It's like a mohawk without the edge. You need the edge. Maybe get some hair gel and go nuts with it. That would be fun."

"The shaved is the edge," Sokka countered. "Hair gel is so passé."

Plus, hair gel back on his world was made of all sorts of things he'd rather not think about and smelled pretty bad.

When he was close enough, he ducked past Deadpool and between two machines, where his smaller size would presumably give him a bit of an advantage. He also scooped a 5-lb. dumbbell off the floor and tossed it at Deadpool's face.

"Well I guess, but no crazy S&M costumes! No more Penance and his creepy goth outfit," Deadpool replied, moving to the side with just a bit more speed than a normal human could accomplish. "Owie! That could have seriously broken something!"

And just because Sokka was Shorter, didn't mean Deadpool wouldn't use the machines like parallel bars to flip up and over him toward the wall.

"Can't let stuff get broken here, they might not let us come back!"

Sokka's face fell a little when he saw the dodge. Normally, he'd have had a speed advantage over someone Deadpool's age and size. But, then again, "normal" didn't exactly apply to Pajamaman.

Well, at least it helped that he was already planning on grabbing the machines to add leverage to a kick. He shifted his grip and position so that hopefully his feet would catch Deadpool in the stomach just before he landed.

"Perks of a healing factor," Deadpool informed him upon seeing the face he mad. "That and I just never tire out! Like an Energizer Bunny, I keep going and going and going an--"

The wind was knocked out of him for a moment when the kick landed.

"-going. Nice one!"

Sokka took up a defensive stance between the two machines.

"So... Let me get this straight: not only are you stronger, a better fighter, and almost invulnerable, you're ALSO faster, AND you have more stamina? So, I'm, like, screwed, aren't I? The only thing I've really even got working in my favor is the fact that you're going easy on me."

"Does it help that it's the same for a majority of people?" Deadpool asked, dropping his fight stance. "And that I get distracted easily! And really now, I go easy on everyone I don't take seriously so... I go all out when I fight Nate pretty much."

Yeah, Sokka had already noticed the "easily distractable", but had written it off, because he wasn't exactly strong in that area, either. But, if it was his only advantage...

"Hey, WHAT'S THAT?!?!?!" Sokka shouted, looking off to his right. "Oh." He chuckled nervously and scratched his head. "Nothing, that's right. 'Cause, uh, you were talking about being easily distracted, and I..."

And that would be when his fist went flying at Deadpool's jaw.

Deadpool grinned brightly, moving back almost quick enough to dodge it. Almost.

He rubbed his jaw, ducking down suddenly to sweep Sokka's feet. "Excellent! A distraction is always helpful. Or just keep talking until they distract themselves!"

Sokka should have expected that, he really should have. But, he didn't, so he went over backwards.

Luckily, he was standing next to a big weight machine which he could use to steady himself.

Unluckily, what he managed to grab was one of the moving parts.

So there he was, sort of tangled in the machine, dangling by one arm from a really, REALLY heavy bar, and trying to figure out if any of his body parts would get crushed if he let go.

"Or," he moaned, "let their natural unluckiness take them down for you?"

"Aww, like Dom's opposite!" Deadpool said, tilting his head at how Sokka got caught. "How about not moving for a moment before I have to end up dragging your ass to the clinic for a broken arm?"

"Really, if you could just hold this bar right here, I think I can do the rest," Sokka told him. "So, who's Dom?"

Grabbing the bar, Deadpool eyed him warily. "Now, normally, I'd say hitting me now would be good, but not when this can crush you like a wee bug."

Sokka scrambled, and flopped, and ended up on the ground at Deadpool's feet. "Yeah, I'm not that stupid," he said as he stood up and stretched. "I did think about trying to booby-trap it so that it hurt you after I got clear, but I couldn't figure out how to manage that."

Setting the bar back into place, Deadpool shrugged. "I'd go with a grenade, but you'd have to get far enough away so as to not get hit by shrapnel."

Sokka stared at him. "Can your healing thingy handle a grenade?" But then he shrugged. "Eh. 1) I don't have one, and 2) the gym people probably wouldn't like that."

"Oh yeah! Blew off my arm the first time Arashi an' me sparred. He did this weird ninja thing that buried me up to my neck so I pulled the pin on the grenade." He sighed happily at the memory. "Fun times."

Deadpool shook his head, nodding his head back toward the mat and wandering that way. "The big thing for taking out people better or more powerful than ya is being flexible in planning and having a lot of weapons juuuust in case."

Sokka nodded and followed him. "I'm good for that first part. The second one I'm kind of going to need your help with."

"We'll work with knives and swords first," Deadpool told him. "And maybe eskrima sticks if your really good. Nothing says pain like a hard stick hitting you in the throat."

Sokka shrugged. "I dunno. People throwing rocks at you says 'pain' pretty well. ...And knives I already know. Swords, though -- I really ought to learn how to use a sword one of these days."

"Pick a non-gun weapon and next time, we'll work with it, mmkay?"

"Swords, really???" Oh, those big, round eyes were so cute when they were so full of glee. "That's what Sokka's talkin' about!"

"Practice swords to begin with," Deadpool said, rolling his eyes.. "I'm not giving you a live blade until you prove you won't cut off your own hand."

Sokka blinked at him. "I'm not TOUCHING a live blade until I prove I won't cut off my own hand. How come everybody seems to think I'm some kind of stupid???"

Deadpool sighed and stopped to turn back toward Sokka. "I don't think you're stupid, Ponytail. Just a little... over excited. Which can lead to accidents and with real swords, that ends with missing limbs. Which would hinder the training."

"It'd hinder a lot of other things, too," Sokka countered. "I've been around knives and spears my whole life; you don't have to worry about me being careful."

That didn't mean he wasn't going to start swinging the sword around and making noises like a Space Battles laser sword the moment he got his hands on one -- just that he would be careful while doing so.

"Practice swords," Deadpool insisted. "And then we'll talk about getting you a real one."

Atlas Gym, Tuesday Afternoon

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