fandomtownies | Atlas Gym, Fandom Fight Club [Sunday Evening]

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Atlas Gym, Fandom Fight Club [Sunday Evening]

There was a poster tacked up on the door to the main gym, with the following text written in alternating handwriting, as if the marker had been shared between two people:

Rules of Fandom Fight Club
1. What happens here, stays here. We can't keep the squirrels out, but if somebody tells you something on the mat, you don't repeat it off the mat.
2. No weapons or powers unless everyone knows in advance and is fighting within their weight class.
3. No shoes.
4. If someone says "stop" or goes limp, the fight is over.
5. Two people to a fight.
6. Fights go on as long as they have to.
7. No tourists. If you need to take a week to see what this is like, cool, but no coming back just to watch. You wanna watch, get a TV; here, everybody fights.
8. No fighting if you're sick or injured. You wanna screw up your body, you do it on your own time.
9. The organizers reserve the right to remove you from the club at any time for violation of these rules.

Underneath the sign was a table with a sign-in sheet, where people could print their name and if they'd fought before ~~which is handwavey since y'all already did it~~, which would be collected once the meeting started.

Inside, Tyler was pacing, barefoot and holding himself so erect he looked about three inches taller than he normally did. He clapped his hands in a way designed to silence anyone still talking.

"Welcome to Fight Club," he began. "In this room, you are not a teacher or a student or the guy who works behind the bar at Caritas. You are not what you own or what you wear. You are not a special, unique snowflake. You are a body. You hit, you bleed, you feel pain, you cause pain, you come back for more. You get better. You might even find redemption."

He glanced at the group as if daring anyone to argue with him on these points.

"The purpose of this group is catharsis and self-improvement through unarmed combat," Ghanima said briskly. For once, she was not wearing her usual ornate gowns, but a simple woven tunic and slacks and was barefoot like Tyler. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with therapeutic violence - no matter what the armchair shrink of the week says - and this place is here to provide you with that option."

"That said, should you wish to have a friendly spar with someone using practice weapons, you should feel free so long as both parties agree. Please refrain from using actual weapons until you've worked with someone more than once."

"And while we're being the buzzkill jerks with all the rules," Tyler said, "here's a quick gym tour. Padding's over here -- beginners, wear gloves, everyone else, it's at your discretion -- practice weapons are there, and these soft blue things? These are mats. We fight on the mats."

"Speak for yourself," Ghanima murmured, bemused. "I may occasionally be evil, but I am not a jerk or a buzzkill."

"Now, my favorite part. We're going to randomly pick some fights." It was possible Ghanima looked a bit too gleeful about this. "You and you. You two. You two too. You and you, and hrm, you, and ... you." There was practically a halo over her head as she pointed at Tyler. "There. Get to know your new friends, then get to know the mat. Anyone I didn't just pair up, find your own partner."

[Up early for massive SP! ~~Wait for the~~Massive OCD is massive and up.]

ETA:You people are breaking my browser! Mingle | RNG Fights | Open Sparring | Ghanima and Tyler | OOC | Next Week's RNG

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Edited 2009-03-08 13:27 (UTC)

Algren had been giving Tyler sympathetic looks when he noticed who he'd been paired off against. And then Ghanima had pointed at him, and then at the boy with the ponytail, and there was really only one thing he could do.

Algren facepalmed.

And then, when his turn rolled around he went to take his place on the mat.

Sokka stalked around Algren, sizing him up. "Mmm-hmm. Uhhhh-huh. Soooo... Any special powers? Are you a ninja?"

"No," Algren replied evenly, looking his opponent over. He wasn't going to let the fact that his opponent was a child get to him. He'd seen boys Sokka's age on the field. Underestimating him could prove dangerous, especially on this island. "I'm ~~Tom Cruise~~ a normal, human Captain in the cavalry."

Which essentially meant he could ride on horses and shoot things at the same time.

"Yourself?"

"Just my powers of AWESOME," Sokka answered. "So I won't beat you TOO badly. You're allowed to give up now, if you want."

"Powers of awesome," Algren noted, looking upward momentarily and nodding as though he was actually making an effort to commit this to memory. "Tell me, have you ever fought a swarm of Nazi Bees before?"

Mere curiosity, really.

Sokka blinked at him. "I fought a swarm of SPELLING bees. Does that count?"

Just in case it didn't, he dropped into a sweep kick, trying to knock Algren down.

Algren wasn't so easily taken down, tripping backward away from the leg that was swept out toward him with a faint smile on his lips.

"Spelling bees? Please tell me that's another Fandom thing," he mused, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it aside while he circled the boy.

"Yup, Fandom thing," Sokka answered. "But 'Nazi bees' sounds like something from a bad horror movie." He threw a couple of slow punches and a kick, testing Algren.

"Apparently, it's a Nevada thing," Algren replied, avoiding one punch successfully, but taking another punch and the kick to the chest and gut more or less in stride before throwing a few swings back. He'd been out of commission for a while, and it seemed like he was taking his good old time getting back into the swing of things. "Possibly another reason why they're trying to outlaw gambling in my own time."

Taking his good old time getting back in the swing of things was good for Sokka, who dodged all but one of the punches and staggered backwards a bit. "You GAMBLE on BEES???" he asked, staring at Algren and leaving his guard down.

"Only in Vegas," Algren noted with a grin as he stooped forward and ran for Sokka, shoulder first, in an attempt to plow the boy to the floor. He was short, yes, and he wasn't exactly a powerhouse, but why not try anyhow?

Sokka blinked at the shoulder, and waited until it was too late to try to dive out of the way. He ended up clear across the mat in a tangle of limbs, but wasted no time in climbing back to his feet. "And what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? You didn't bring the bees back with you?"

Every instinct in him was screaming that this was the time to throw something, but he didn't have his boomerang, and that wouldn't have been allowed anyhow. Instead, he settled into a defensive stance and watched Algren warily.

Algren managed to catch himself and turn around before he ran off too far, and then turned to face Sokka again.

"If the bees followed us back, they're doing an excellent job of hiding." He was trying to sound reassuring, but it wasn't entirely clear as to whether he was stressing this point for Sokka's peace of mind, or for his own. "I would like to think that when I go out for vacations, I leave the dangerous situations behind me when I come back to work."

Defensive stance or no, he was going to get up close and try to swing another punch, this time for Sokka's gut.

Sokka was ready for it, and was only grazed a little as he jumped back.

"When you come back here?" he asked. "This is Fandom."

A bit sore at having been run over a few moments ago, Sokka gathered his legs under him and sprang at Algren's stomach, trying to tackle him.

Algren caught the tackle right in the gut and staggered backward, digging his heels into the floor in an effort to stay upright. And then he twisted around as best as he could, trying to get one arm around Sokka's head.

The sparring match had now shifted to grappling, apparently.

"This is Fandom," he agreed, trying to get some air back into his lungs, "and that's why I'm here, getting some practise in."

"Good idea," Sokka grunted from under Algren's arm. "Practice is good." He tried to ignore the whole head-being-crushed thing and instead wrapped one arm around Algren's to hang on with while the other fist rammed as hard as it could into the man's side.

Oh, that was going to leave a bruise.

Algren grit his teeth and made a face, tightening his grip with the blow and falling to his knees. If his grip was tight enough, his hope was that Sokka would go down with him.

If it wasn't, then the boy was going to be able to wrench free, and Algren would find himself on his knees. Which had serious potential to get bad fast for the man.

Sokka made the mistake of trying to keep his feet under him while Algren went down, which did NOT go over so well with his neck. So, he ended up sprawled awkwardly in front of the man, head still trapped, and a bit woozy from the whiplash. Not good. He brought his hands up to Algren's arm and tried to claw free.

It was an admirable effort, really, and Algren felt his grasp loosening at Sokka's attempts to free himself.

So he was going to do something he really, really wanted to do. He was going to make a fist, and, provided Sokka didn't get out right away, he was going to bury his knuckles against Sokka's scalp and rub.

Noogie.

Sometimes, he enjoyed this fighting stuff entirely too much.

"Hey! HEY! HEY HEY HEY! Ow! QUIT IT!"

Sokka scrambled backward out of Algren's grasp and rolled to his feet, losing his hairband along the way. He brushed his bangs out of his face and glared. "You mussed the hair!!! Oh, it's ON, biznatch!!!"

He launched himself forward again, fingers clutching for Algren's shaggy locks.

"Bizn-" Algren was cut off when he felt Sokka's hand yank at his hair, because, while it was a perfectly fair sort of reaction, it wasn't entirely anticipated, either.

So. There was Algren, on his knees, with his hair being yanked on by a high school kid. Which would be humiliating if he wasn't still somewhat amused that he was in this situation in the first place.

There really wasn't much he could do in this situation except swing, was there? And so that was what he was going to do.

The punch caught Sokka right in the gut, knocking the air out of him. He coughed, and then growled. And yanked harder on the hair, because he could.

Algren grit his teeth as his head was yanked backward, and then he did the only thing that really made sense at the time.

He grabbed for Sokka's hair, too, dammit.

"OW! Quit it!"

Sokka kept yanking on Algren's hair, as hard as he could, and brought his free hand up to try to protect his own hair somehow. "OWWWWW!!!"

Fight Three: Intermediate: Algren/Sokka

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Re: Fight Three: Intermediate: Algren/Sokka