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Wellspring Arms and Meditation Center:

Worf had received a bunch of forms in the mail recently. Something called a one thousand and forty form. And even though it was dull work and mind numbing, Worf felt obligated to complete it.

As a result Worf was pondering his "occupation" at Wellspring today. Technically his occupation was sales but he didn't sell anything. And while there was a meditation area, he did not consider "meditator" to be a position. Or even a real world.

And even though he did a lot of cleaning in the store, he'd prefer not to be called a janitor. There's very little honor there.

So Worf went with "Warrior" being his occupation.

Which probably guaranteed him being audited.

[This is what you get when you have to answer Question #6 on the weekly prompt.]

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Who is busy searching for something called a "W2".

Reno was still sore from that meeting yesterday that he wasn't supposed to mention outside of the meeting, but he wasn't going to let that deter him from swinging by Wellspring to harass his favorite squiggly-faced sparring buddy.

"Yo!"

Worf was a bit confused by the greeting. If that's what it was.

"Can I help you?" he asked scowling at the paperwork.

Reno leaned over a little to peer at the paperwork as well.

"I was just wonderin' if you already got your sparrin' fix for the week, man. But it looks like you're busy or somethin' already."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What kinda paperwork could there possibly be in a place that don't sell weapons to start with?"

"It is something called one thousand and forty," Worf replied. "And it seems to want personal information about me."

"Nosy paperwork," Reno mused, leaning back again. "I get stuff like that, usually I file it in the trash bin, yo."

Reno wasn't a fan of paperwork even when he'd had a job that actually involved doing it.

"Isn't it the responsibility of all to fill out paperwork for the localized government?" Worf demanded to know.

"You a permanent resident of this place?" Reno crossed his arms and smirked. "Way I see it, what they don't know won't hurt you. Or do you really want a buncha grubby-handed corporate loons knowin' everything about you?"

"Perhaps it is better they do not," Worf grumbled shoving the paperwork to the side. "If that is the case then I am free to spar."

Reno resisted the urge to throw his arms in the air and let out a 'whoop!' of victory.

But the thought was totally there.

"That's the spirit, man!" He was already making his way toward the meditation room. There was not enough excitement in Reno's life already, apparently.

And Worf was following him. "How did you do in your sparring yesterday?"

Reno grinned slyly over his shoulder at Worf, at that.

"The sparrin' we ain't supposed to talk about off the mat? That sparrin'?" He gave a lazy sort of stretch as he waited by the doorway, and then shrugged. "Can't complain. Got me up an' doin' somethin', anyhow. Few good bruises to remind me I ain't dead yet. You?"

Edited 2009-03-09 18:47 (UTC)

"A fight is a fight," Worf replied. "I'll talk about if I choose. My opponent was decent. Shall we?"

"Damn right!"

This time there was no moment to gauge his opponent, no hesitation just in case Worf wasn't ready. Reno had sparred him once, and that was enough for him to know better. This time around, Reno was going to just take Worf at a run, fists flying, toward his face and then his chest.

Worf was bigger than him, and Worf was stronger than him. Today, Reno was going to take advantage of his speed to keep this fight interesting.

Worf was ready though he wasn't quite a match for Reno's speed. The first few punches got blocked but the rest hit their target.

To which he responded with a quick and violent kick towards the midsection.

Quick and violent and enough to send Reno tripping backward, huffing for air all on the first attack. His bruises from the day before were still screaming at him, and his muscles were still stiff, and he took a moment to chide himself for letting the first attack Worf threw actually connect before bouncing forward again with a kick of his own, aimed for Worf's knees.

The kick hit, bring Worf down with a loud grunt. He rolled and got back up into a standing position, throwing out a punch to keep Reno from getting to close while he recovered.

Reno rolled his shoulder with the punch, letting it glance by with a minimum of damage (which was still pretty decent. He was being punched by a Klingon, here) while he slammed his elbow backward, taking advantage of the motion and the slightly open stance brought about by the punch to aim for Worf's ribs.

He wasn't in a talking mood today, really. He was still coming down from the Fight Club high from last night.

Which elicited another grunt from Worf before he feinted with a punch and throwing another punch at Reno's head.

Worf also wasn't in a talking mood. And if the smirk on his face is any indication, he's having fun!

Reno still hadn't replaced his goggles since they'd been smashed up last week. He wasn't in any rush to have to replace them, either. It was just a little crack, and it wasn't as though he ever wore them over his eyes.

He almost fell for the feint this time, but sometimes the drive to preserve one's accessories was a strong one, and he threw himself sideways before the punch could hit, grinning and circling Worf warily, waiting for the next move.

Now Worf was almost smiling! It's a wonder his face didn't crack.

Looking for the right opening, Worf led with a feint to the head following it with a kick to the midsection.

Reno was still leaning back to avoid the feint when the kick caught him and sent him almost sprawling, another rush of air forced from his lungs as he cartwheeled his arms, trying to keep on his feet.

"Good kicker," he noted, keeping his distance for a moment while he caught his breath again. "You don't hold nothin' back, do you?"

Worf snorted in amusement. "I am holding back," he replied before letting loose with a quick jab to the head.

"Don't." Reno ducked out of the way of the fist, swinging his own in an uppercut aimed for Worf's jaw. "An' neither will I."

Full brawn versus full speed. It could be interesting?

Worf blocked the punch, and then threw two of his own. One at Reno's head and the other at Reno's chest. Full force.

'If you insist."

"Hell yeah!" Reno bounced out of the way of the punches, smiling as though just knowing they both weren't holding back had turned this into an entirely fresh fight. And he wasn't going to let up with just being out of the way, he was going to be out of the way, and then zip around behind the Klingon with an exuberant whoop and a roundhouse kick for his side.

Throwing hits that actually counted were probably going to be the challenge, for Reno.

Worf took the hit but he was already throwing an elbow behind him that should be aimed at Reno's head while attemped to grab the leg he was kicking with in an effort to immobilize him.

Reno found himself leaning backwards to avoid the elbow, and couldn't help but notice as he straightened again that his leg was not returning to the floor quite the way nature intended. That was going to be an issue, wasn't it?

The way he'd moved into that kick wasn't going to let him do much except hop in place. Bugger.

Worf moved quickly and stepped in to sweep kick and knock out Reno's supporting leg.

And maybe push him down to the ground with a little more pressure.

Okay. Letting the Klingon catch his leg. That was stupid. Reno had a second or so to reflect on how stupid this move was as he toppled to the floor, his leg swinging up underneath him and his arm slamming against the floor to catch the brunt of the fall.

Before he could find himself in the very unfortunate situation that would see him pinned, however, he squirmed until he was face-first on the floor, making an effort to scramble forward that would really only do him any good if Worf was kind enough to get go.

There was a scary sound coming from Worf. He was laughing.

He waited for Reno to get back into position.

"Still having fun?" he asked as he wiped a little blood from his mouth.

"Actually, yeah," Reno replied, hopping back to his feet and smirking. "I just gotta make a point of not lettin' you grab me no more. Good move, by the way."

He gave himself a bit of a shake to make sure that everything was still in working order, and then he bounced forward again, fists first, throwing off a few punches at Worf's midsection before sweeping one leg out toward the Klingon's feet.

Worf didn't have time to reply. He managed to block the first punch before the rest hammered home. The leg sweep knocked him off balance, forcing him back a few steps to recover. When he did he let go with a kick to Reno's chest.

Reno had said he was going to go all-out, and he meant it. The kick was solid and strong, and it had the potential to knock him flat all over again, but Reno wasn't in the mood to end up on the floor, either. And so he ducked the kick, and in the same motion, he stood up again. If he did it right, it would result in him having Worf's leg resting on his shoulder.

Flexible, Worf?

Not that flexible.

There was a growl as Worf lost his footing and feel to the ground and he starting rolling to recover in a crouch.

"Nice move."

"Thanks." Reno grinned and started slowly circling Worf again, waiting for some sort of opening. Crouches weren't so good for those, really.

Worf jumped up of his crouch and in one fluid moment did a spinning kick at Reno's head.

[And this comment would have gone into a horrible direction if I had left "crouch" as "crotch".]

The jump gave the kick a hell of a lot of momentum, and even Reno had trouble getting completely out of the way in time. Worf's foot missed Reno himself but smacked his goggles, and the band that secured them to his head gave way.

Reno took a moment to pout as they went flying across the room. His goggles really didn't have good luck when he was facing off against Worf.

"You got somethin' against those?" This, of course, was accentuated by a snap-kick toward the ribs right back.

[SUNNY D. SUNNY D OUT MY NOSE. THANK YOU FOR THE BURNING.]

Just shut your mouth and say "OMM"

Which does not mean what Toby thinks it means.

But only if you have permission.

You down with OOC? Yeah. You know me.

...this makes me think the IRS should audit Fandom High.

The only school in America where teachers can have ammunition as a tax deduction.

Deadpool would get a deduction for spandex, and I'm sure Chuck could list his wardrobe.

...Made oh so amusing with my future career of choice. *falls over laughing*

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Wellspring Arms and Meditation Center:

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Meditate

Shoot

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