[Play, like he's a fun toy, or a useful tool. It scrapes at nerve-ends. But Cain doesn't say anything, because at least he'll benefit from the arrangement. If not money, then strength.]
Your brother. Seriously?
[Same worlds, then. Less important than the fact there's a smaller asshole running around with more evident physical prowess than the man in front of him. He doesn't make a big deal of it - just answers the question.]
Military. Was a Fighter in the program, [truthful, but it's the first time he's shared that detail. Again, not a big deal. Was. What is he now?] We used the weapons systems on ship and trained hand-to-hand combat against each other.
Like I told your brother, might've been different than what you know, 'cause different universes. [Different wars, different enemies. Cain flexes his fingers in the sweaty gloves. He wants to peel them off.] But I'm a good shot.
( it's word manipulation; jason hates being used as a tool, wouldn't put that on anyone who doesn't deserve it and he doesn't know cain well enough to make that decision. he seems scrappy, ready and willing to take down anything in his path but not--a horrible excuse for a human being. or whatever he was before. they've got aliens and ex androids, gods and god knows what else. he doesn't judge. )
Ex military. Alright. ( taking a moment to size cain up again before he steps in closer. holds out the roll of athletic tape and gestures down to covered hands. ) Breathes easier, take that shit off.
( while he waits, idly: ) We've got an interesting background, I'm sure that kid'll blab all about it if you ask. ( #thanksdamian #appreciateit ) I came in off the streets, lived in a hellhole called crime alley on my own when I was young. You learn a lot of useful shit in places like that. How to hit, how to take down bigger opponents--had some military-esque training after. Spent some time with a few Russian mobsters and picked up some shit there. Weapons aren't legal and hard to get hold of, dangerous to keep. You'll have to find new toys to play with.
[Maybe he's just -- sensitive to it, given the markers of history. Maybe it is a manifestation in his head. So far, Malone's said nothing outright, put no hooks into the deal. It feels even. More in his own favor, maybe, for how this will benefit him right now. All waged on recompense of beer.
Cain strips off the gloves, tosses them down, and wipes damp palms on his thighs with relief.]
Noticed the tech here translates anything in a different language. [He smirks, cutting,] Otherwise I'd test your Russian tongue.
[He takes the tape, begins winding it around the bulge of knuckles, methodical. Like he's done it too many times in the past.]
Federated Alliance would've killed for someone like you in the ranks. They got too many scrawny dogs, usually. Not much competition.
Edited (noticing typos too late is a lifestyle) 2019-01-03 07:16 (UTC)
It's probably better than yours. ( he's. bullshitting, but. jason knows quite a few languages, russian included; the translator makes shit difficult. he's tried faking his own language, and it eventually figured out how to mimic that and shift it. makes talking in front of others and hiding what he's trying to get at. difficult.
a step back, and jason raises his fists. one foot back, hips turned, forearms in front of his face. bounces on the balls of his feet a bit while he waits for cain to finish. doesn't push forward but certainly doesn't move back, either. )
Bein' bigger than the average guy doesn't make me a good fighter. ( that's what cain means. he gets where he's going. ) Hafid's smaller, scrawnier. Faster and more flexible. Heft ain't everything.
( it works for jason; he's built like a tank and can take damage, but he's no gymnast like every other person who wore the R. )
[As it's his native language, there's doubt. Still he wonders whether differences are seeded between what he spoke on the colonies and what may be spoken on some alternate, ambiguous version of Earth.]
I get the point. [Cain tosses the athletic tape in general direction of his gloves, turns to face his opponent.] C'mere, then.
[Rather than lunge at Malone - recklessly - as he did in the caves, he beckons with two fingers. Like an exact imitation of what Malone did, roles reversed.]
( his turn, right. cain isn't the first kid jason's trained, he knows how this works. there's a step closer, and jason's not outright swinging. he's moving, instead. )
There's a couple ways to try and land a punch on a guy. Sure the military taught you that. Swinging out ( stance loosening, fist swinging out in a wide circle motion before coming back in, knuckles aiming for a nonexistent enemy in front of him. ) or swinging in ( elbow pressed into his side, fist jabbing up quick from his center. ) but a guy like you might wanna avoid fists at all. Open palm.
( fists uncurl, and jason does step in this time. keeps his elbow close to his center and swings his arm up, meaty bit of his palm going straight for the underside of cain's chin. )
[Easy enough pace to follow, Cain moving with him, shifting light on feet: turn sharply on the balls, weight then deposited onto the heels. His fists are up, closed, never far from shielding his face in that square range to keep himself guarded.
Open palm. No warning, only instinct and reaction as that palm jabs up toward him from just underneath his chin - Cain has a scant bit of distance to avoid it, so he does, in a quick step backward.] No fists? Ever?
[He's grinning, blood beginning to pump faster, body loosening.] What if I really wanna knock some guy's teeth in?
Then curl your fingers in, and be ready to break a few knuckles in the meantime.
( jason uses fists, knives, guns, whatever the hell he can get his hands on. he also has better gloves than the shit he has on his hands right now though, so. cain dodges back, and jason stays in place. lets him form distance between them. sees the way that grin spreads so easy across lips.
grins back, toothy and smarmy. ) Open palm uses all the force from where you're hitting to your elbow. Has more bite, wrists have the tendency to be flimsier.
Nothin' wrong with a few broken knuckles if I win.
[His speech is shorter, cut, excited. He'd go to those extremes to seize victory in his teeth, or with his teeth, if necessary. Also, better gloves will be one of the very first items he's buy with fight money.
A quick step in, Cain intends to exactly what was described - an open palm strike aimed at Malone's throat, twisting his torso to carry the power of momentum.]
( it's easier to pick shit up if you've gotten to do it before. kinesthetic learning, right? there's an half-assed attempt to dodge, a hand raised up, to protect the side of his face but cain goes in from a bit lower and twists with the force and jason's taking the hit to his neck, body moved back just enough it doesn't cause any serious damage even if it winds him. takes the breath out of his lungs and causes his gut to tighten up a bit.
tries to take a moment to cough, get it out of his system. )
Chest hits. ( low, on a breath out. ) No cheap shots. Save those for someone else.
[He didn't think it would hit. Not to say Malone's impervious to everything, but there's a brief victory high for it. Cain steps backward, lowers his hands with a shining smirk.]
Someone in the ring? [He flexes his fingers to stretch the tape and test its durability.] Thought you said I was training for that.
[Used to fighting dirty - frowned upon yet not dissuaded by his military superiors - Cain's going to have to make an effort to rein that back in.]
Doesn't mean you need to swing at me like you're in there. 'less you want me to do the same for you.
( a step back, and jason rubs at his throat with a hand. returns the stupid smirk with one of his own, and pauses to press his tongue up against his upper teeth. shifts back into a fighting stance, adjusts hips so his weight's centered back on his leg furthest from cain. )
[Falling into seriousness, he mirrors the pose, weight centered and feet planted solid on the ground. Hands come up again, fingers forming quick fists and flexing back out, loosening tendons.
It takes a reminder: he's not fighting for his life here.
So he tries again. This time, fast movement forward, open palm out to strike - he aims for the side of Malone's head through his guard.]
( but he still goes for the face shots, thanks a lot cain. jason has both arms up ready to guard, takes a step to the side just enough to get his forearm in place to block the hit. cain's scrappy but not weak, his arm'll probably bruise from the impact later, but.
jason grins regardless, shifts the hand that isn't holding back cain's forward for an uppercut towards cain's jawline. it's fast, powerful but not even close to all the strength jason can put behind a punch. )
When that hand cuts across the lower edge of his vision, Cain shifts to brace against it and take the hit with his own forearm, but even that isn't enough. The power slams up his arm, elbow to wrist, and he's sent stumbling backward - at least he catches his weight and doesn't go down.]
Fuck! [A sharply vented expletive accompanies his retreat. Cain shakes out his arm, still feeling it tingle in reverberating pain. He's used to blocking, not dodging, but that hadn't worked well here.] Fuck, that hurt.
cain takes the hit and backs up, curses and shakes out his arm; jason reacts merely by shifting his weight back onto heels and loosening his stance up. lowers his arms a bit. cain has decent reflexes, a snarky mouth, and jason has been around him long enough to recognize all the little things in cain. he'll ask him more bullshit later, figure out what the hell's going on with this gangly loser, why he's in the military, what the hell he was fighting shit with, but for now: )
Two days. Train with me in here for two days, rest half of one, and I'll take you down to the fight rings.
[Not a long stretch of time, but Cain isn't daunted. It'll serve enough to accustom him with the idea of going into the ring, to exercise his body, to sharpen his reflexes. He's panting from exertion. After the blank gap in his memory for however long he was out, it feels good to have his head clear. ]
Two days, got it. [He swipes a wrapped hand across his brow of sweat. Strange not to have hair matted to skin, but pleasant in this heat.] Can I use this place whenever I want, after?
( two days is long enough to figure out cain's strengths and work with them. it's long enough to show him how to start building up muscle better, how to work his body in ways that'll benefit him; definitely not long enough to teach someone to street fight, but cain's already got that bit down. jason isn't too concerned over it; the ring fighters are enhanced, full of metal bits and strong. powerful. cain'll figure it out. )
's yours. ( with a wide-swept gesture with both hands. ) Just don't stay in it for long, it's got eyes on it from unpleasant sources.
[He may not be a navigator or a pilot or an engineer, but he can think on his feet in a fight. Sounds like that's all he'll need to puzzle out the mechanics of the ring. Nothing to do but jump in, hot and ready.]
Yeah, heard that. What about powers? [Cain's gaze spans across the room.] Some weird shit happened back at the safehouse. Pretty sure it was me - how am I supposed to practice that?
[He's temperamental, and arrival after the events of the party had hiked Cain's emotions to a great height, triggering his ability earlier than many. He's not ashamed of it.]
( with a hand on his hip, lips pursing. he's got people for that though, people he can ask for some assistance. kara's. . okay with him. hasn't had an issue, outright told him if he killed those involved she wouldn't give a shit (not that he's particularly interested) about it. )
Just some asshole bothering me. [More to it, but like hell he's dumping the gritty details and exposing the depth of that whole issue.] The plate was on the counter, then it wasn't. Almost like it disappeared.
Maybe later, yeah, just... send her my info. [Appreciative as he is, the power aspect of this brave new world is more challenging to wrap his head around.] You got a lot of connections.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Your brother. Seriously?
[Same worlds, then. Less important than the fact there's a smaller asshole running around with more evident physical prowess than the man in front of him. He doesn't make a big deal of it - just answers the question.]
Military. Was a Fighter in the program, [truthful, but it's the first time he's shared that detail. Again, not a big deal. Was. What is he now?] We used the weapons systems on ship and trained hand-to-hand combat against each other.
Like I told your brother, might've been different than what you know, 'cause different universes. [Different wars, different enemies. Cain flexes his fingers in the sweaty gloves. He wants to peel them off.] But I'm a good shot.
no subject
Ex military. Alright. ( taking a moment to size cain up again before he steps in closer. holds out the roll of athletic tape and gestures down to covered hands. ) Breathes easier, take that shit off.
( while he waits, idly: ) We've got an interesting background, I'm sure that kid'll blab all about it if you ask. ( #thanksdamian #appreciateit ) I came in off the streets, lived in a hellhole called crime alley on my own when I was young. You learn a lot of useful shit in places like that. How to hit, how to take down bigger opponents--had some military-esque training after. Spent some time with a few Russian mobsters and picked up some shit there. Weapons aren't legal and hard to get hold of, dangerous to keep. You'll have to find new toys to play with.
no subject
Cain strips off the gloves, tosses them down, and wipes damp palms on his thighs with relief.]
Noticed the tech here translates anything in a different language. [He smirks, cutting,] Otherwise I'd test your Russian tongue.
[He takes the tape, begins winding it around the bulge of knuckles, methodical. Like he's done it too many times in the past.]
Federated Alliance would've killed for someone like you in the ranks. They got too many scrawny dogs, usually. Not much competition.
no subject
a step back, and jason raises his fists. one foot back, hips turned, forearms in front of his face. bounces on the balls of his feet a bit while he waits for cain to finish. doesn't push forward but certainly doesn't move back, either. )
Bein' bigger than the average guy doesn't make me a good fighter. ( that's what cain means. he gets where he's going. ) Hafid's smaller, scrawnier. Faster and more flexible. Heft ain't everything.
( it works for jason; he's built like a tank and can take damage, but he's no gymnast like every other person who wore the R. )
no subject
[As it's his native language, there's doubt. Still he wonders whether differences are seeded between what he spoke on the colonies and what may be spoken on some alternate, ambiguous version of Earth.]
I get the point. [Cain tosses the athletic tape in general direction of his gloves, turns to face his opponent.] C'mere, then.
[Rather than lunge at Malone - recklessly - as he did in the caves, he beckons with two fingers. Like an exact imitation of what Malone did, roles reversed.]
no subject
There's a couple ways to try and land a punch on a guy. Sure the military taught you that. Swinging out ( stance loosening, fist swinging out in a wide circle motion before coming back in, knuckles aiming for a nonexistent enemy in front of him. ) or swinging in ( elbow pressed into his side, fist jabbing up quick from his center. ) but a guy like you might wanna avoid fists at all. Open palm.
( fists uncurl, and jason does step in this time. keeps his elbow close to his center and swings his arm up, meaty bit of his palm going straight for the underside of cain's chin. )
no subject
Open palm. No warning, only instinct and reaction as that palm jabs up toward him from just underneath his chin - Cain has a scant bit of distance to avoid it, so he does, in a quick step backward.] No fists? Ever?
[He's grinning, blood beginning to pump faster, body loosening.] What if I really wanna knock some guy's teeth in?
no subject
( jason uses fists, knives, guns, whatever the hell he can get his hands on. he also has better gloves than the shit he has on his hands right now though, so. cain dodges back, and jason stays in place. lets him form distance between them. sees the way that grin spreads so easy across lips.
grins back, toothy and smarmy. ) Open palm uses all the force from where you're hitting to your elbow. Has more bite, wrists have the tendency to be flimsier.
no subject
[His speech is shorter, cut, excited. He'd go to those extremes to seize victory in his teeth, or with his teeth, if necessary. Also, better gloves will be one of the very first items he's buy with fight money.
A quick step in, Cain intends to exactly what was described - an open palm strike aimed at Malone's throat, twisting his torso to carry the power of momentum.]
no subject
tries to take a moment to cough, get it out of his system. )
Chest hits. ( low, on a breath out. ) No cheap shots. Save those for someone else.
no subject
Someone in the ring? [He flexes his fingers to stretch the tape and test its durability.] Thought you said I was training for that.
[Used to fighting dirty - frowned upon yet not dissuaded by his military superiors - Cain's going to have to make an effort to rein that back in.]
no subject
( a step back, and jason rubs at his throat with a hand. returns the stupid smirk with one of his own, and pauses to press his tongue up against his upper teeth. shifts back into a fighting stance, adjusts hips so his weight's centered back on his leg furthest from cain. )
Try again.
no subject
It takes a reminder: he's not fighting for his life here.
So he tries again. This time, fast movement forward, open palm out to strike - he aims for the side of Malone's head through his guard.]
no subject
jason grins regardless, shifts the hand that isn't holding back cain's forward for an uppercut towards cain's jawline. it's fast, powerful but not even close to all the strength jason can put behind a punch. )
no subject
When that hand cuts across the lower edge of his vision, Cain shifts to brace against it and take the hit with his own forearm, but even that isn't enough. The power slams up his arm, elbow to wrist, and he's sent stumbling backward - at least he catches his weight and doesn't go down.]
Fuck! [A sharply vented expletive accompanies his retreat. Cain shakes out his arm, still feeling it tingle in reverberating pain. He's used to blocking, not dodging, but that hadn't worked well here.] Fuck, that hurt.
no subject
cain takes the hit and backs up, curses and shakes out his arm; jason reacts merely by shifting his weight back onto heels and loosening his stance up. lowers his arms a bit. cain has decent reflexes, a snarky mouth, and jason has been around him long enough to recognize all the little things in cain. he'll ask him more bullshit later, figure out what the hell's going on with this gangly loser, why he's in the military, what the hell he was fighting shit with, but for now: )
Two days. Train with me in here for two days, rest half of one, and I'll take you down to the fight rings.
no subject
Two days, got it. [He swipes a wrapped hand across his brow of sweat. Strange not to have hair matted to skin, but pleasant in this heat.] Can I use this place whenever I want, after?
no subject
's yours. ( with a wide-swept gesture with both hands. ) Just don't stay in it for long, it's got eyes on it from unpleasant sources.
no subject
Yeah, heard that. What about powers? [Cain's gaze spans across the room.] Some weird shit happened back at the safehouse. Pretty sure it was me - how am I supposed to practice that?
[He's temperamental, and arrival after the events of the party had hiked Cain's emotions to a great height, triggering his ability earlier than many. He's not ashamed of it.]
no subject
( with a hand on his hip, lips pursing. he's got people for that though, people he can ask for some assistance. kara's. . okay with him. hasn't had an issue, outright told him if he killed those involved she wouldn't give a shit (not that he's particularly interested) about it. )
What happened?
no subject
[Superpower: shattering all your mother's fine china.]
Made it move, I guess?
no subject
( it'd be easier to figure out what it was if he could make the incident happen again, but, )
What stressed you out enough to cause it?
no subject
Just some asshole bothering me. [More to it, but like hell he's dumping the gritty details and exposing the depth of that whole issue.] The plate was on the counter, then it wasn't. Almost like it disappeared.
Never been able to do anything like that before.
no subject
Give me a bit, I'll call my girl. She's got a bit more experience--helping others adjust to crap like that.
no subject
Maybe later, yeah, just... send her my info. [Appreciative as he is, the power aspect of this brave new world is more challenging to wrap his head around.] You got a lot of connections.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)