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Atlas Gym, Monday Afternoon

Reno was antsy. Antsy and edgy and scrappy, and all sorts of words that people could use to describe how badly he was itching to just beat on things.

Which was why he'd headed off to the gym with his stun baton. There were laps to be run. And then heavy bags that needed to have the hell beaten out of them with his feet and with a metal rod. And Reno was fully intending to work himself until he was ready to collapse into a red-headed heap of Turk and sweat.

It was going to be awesome.

[Open, of course!]

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One of these days, her students were going to make her "emo" with their guilt complexes.

Ghanima had been planning on doing a solo workout to burn off some of the frustration when she spotted a familiar flash of red hair.

"Pick your weapon," she called out gaily as she went through her stretches. "Just because this isn't one of our scheduled training sessions, does not mean I'm going to play nice."

Reno turned to look from the heavy bag at Ghanima, the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

"I already got mine," he replied, holding up his stun baton. "Don't gotta hack things to bits to be effective, yo."

That, and it was strapped to his wrist via a leather cuff, and he was too damn lazy to take it off.

Also, his. Grr.

"Hack things to bits?" Ghanima put a hand to her chest, pretending to be offended. "I'm hurt, I would like to think I have a bit more artistry than that."

Of course, for that, she took out two modified short staves. She was just as capable of being flexible.

"You did well enough last time," she said sweetly, beginning to count out the practice blades. "Shall we say thirteen?" Yes, she was being mean.

"Thirteen?" Reno grinned, straightening up and tapping his EMR against his shoulder casually. "Sounds like a good number to me, yo. See if there's artistry to be had in thunkin' those hell-frisbees around with sticks, instead."

Yay, hell-frisbees!

"Hell-frisbees?" Ghani laughed at that, shaking her head. "That's one name for them, I'm sure."

"Put a sign on the door?" she asked, clicking them into two stacks. "I don't want civilians walking in unprepared while we're using live ammo. They make poor practice dummies."

"Pain in the ass to clean up afterward, too," Reno replied, and he was mostly joking, really. "I'll get the sign, yo."

It would only take him a moment to do just that. He wandered off, and as soon as he was done putting up a sign that said 'live Ammo, Wait out there or lose your limbs," he wandered back. Oh so casual.

It was a Reno thing. It was either be casual, or giggle like an idiot schoolboy because they were about to play with pointy things.

The moment he had placed the sign on the door, Ghanima struck, launching the 'hell-frisbees' before he was all the way back.

Really, it was a lesson in 'be prepared', and it wasn't like he was unarmed.

If it hadn't already been claimed by the Boy Scouts, the motto of the Turks might as well have been 'be prepared,' really. Having his EMR resting against his shoulder didn't mean that Reno wasn't expecting spinning, flying blades to come suddenly shooting toward him.

One came entirely too close to his face for comfort, and so he rewarded it with a solid, metallic clang and a grin before taking off into the thick of it at a run.

It was on.

Well, with a sign about life ammo, how the hell was Deadpool supposed to say no to wandering in?

Not Jimmy. (Natch.) But it was minion dater number two and... that teacher. Whatsherface. With the blue blue eyes that almost made him think her name was Sue, but not.

Mostly he wanted curry. Something about spice.

Settling in a comfortable seat for the show, he managed to produce some popcorn. Where... it was best unasked.

It was on. Ghanima spun her left staff and deliberately sent one flying back at Reno as she parried another on her right. While the heat-seeking AI of the practice blades was good practice, something with a bit more brain behind it would be good for him.

It promised to be a decent show, seeing as Ghanima had set up thirteen of the blades, and Reno had been insane enough to agree to face off against that many.

The sudden presence of red pajamas and popcorn were going to be slightly distracting until Reno could steal a glance to see what was going on over there.

Doing so nearly earned him a pointy thing to the thigh.

"Guess some people don't gotta worry about their limbs as much as others," Reno mused aloud, smacking the offending blade with his rod (hee, rod?) and grinning like an idiot.

The red-clad man received an amused look, but Ghanima was too busy playing with sharp things to pay him much attention. "Mind the gap," she called, in case he hadn't seen the sign, "Or rather, the flying knives."

"They grow back!" Deadpool called at him, waiting for when it wouldn't get the kid killed.

Rikku would be upset if he did.

Deadpool gave her a thumbs up and continued to eat his popcorn. "This is the best show around since ANTM ended!"

"I'm afraid I don't know that one," Ghanima said, "So I'll have to take your word for it."

She was, however, Ghani, and that meant she couldn't resist showing off. Mainly by catching discs on her staves and sending them spinning towards Reno for him to deal with. But, well, that was the privilege of being the teacher.

"Lucky!" Reno replied, dodging another blade and sending the one that came after it wobbling off in the other direction with another good thump of his rod. "Some of us gotta actually pay attention to what the hell's tryin' to kill us."

Okay. So maybe he was slightly impressed. A little.

The brain behind the blades was going to make it a challenge. And Reno was totally up for a challenge. He hadn't had a good one of those since... well. Since facing off against Hades. But before that, it had been a while.

"Gonna play it that way?" Reno wasn't complaining. He'd brought potions along, anyhow. Another aspect of the 'be prepared' thing. "Kickass."

The one that had been flying toward him courtesy of Ghanima was deftly avoided, which left him in a bit of a scrape with two others. One got a thunk from the EMR, and the other cut a clean streak through the loose fabric of his sleeve. Too close for comfort, but not close enough.

Which earned her an appreciative 'Oooo!' and a golf clap.

"Can anyone play with the robots?"

It was damn impressive. But then again, Jimmy would say it wasn't because he was the original.

But he didn't count.

"Try to be more loose! Loosey goosey! Loosey goosey!"

Okay, he just liked saying it.

"Play?" Ghanima tsked slightly and shook her head, leaning to the side to avoid one that wanted to get acquainted with her face. "This is a warm-up, Reno. If I wanted to play..." she blurred, reappearing behind him to tap his shoulder before sliding away again. "...you'd know."

"Heat and motion-seeking, there's no true AI," Ghanima corrected absently. "But yes, feel free to join in. Just try not to ruin the floor, least the owner sent me a bill for repairs."

Nono, Reno's ferret was the one that made goose noises.

"I get any more loose, I'm gonna wind up on my ass," he countered, and just thinking about it nearly made him trip over himself. Smooth, Reno. Straighten up, hit a blade, pretend that was totally intentional.

Oh, yes, like Reno could forget about the awesome zippy fast thing that Ghanima could do.

"That's still the most freakin' cool thing I ever saw anyone do," he decided, craning his head to get a better look at the one he'd smacked out of the way before. It was coming back to say hello.

Which prompted him to duck down low as it was joined by another two, because he really was fond of having his head attached.

"You should see my brother, he's even faster," she replied, using one staff to parry a low-flier away from her knee. "Then again, Leto always has been an overachiever. Boys aren't even supposed to learn how to do it."

"Not that that's ever stopped any member of my family from training someone." One 'hell-frisbee' met it's end in a heavy bag, and she grinned. "You're a bit old to start, but I could always try."

"You'd teach me how to do that... Fast... thingie?" Reno stopped for a moment, nearly earning himself a blade to the back. Kissing the floor. Awesome.

It was going to take him a moment to get back up again without getting killed. He'd manage. He was stubborn like that.

"You're one hell of a rebel," he decided, and when that damn blade came wheeling back toward him, he paid it back for his trouble my smacking it somewhere into next month with his stun baton. "Niiiice."

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Atlas Gym, Monday Afternoon

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