noteasytobepink | The problem with dangerous people...

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wheelsy

The problem with dangerous people...

Who: Clarice and other students
When: Off and on through her time in Bill's world.
What: Clarice stays sharp. Sort of. It's complicated.

She didn't do much until she was cleared, medically. Only an idiot pushed an injury when there was the option to rest. She even did physical therapy religiously, but given mutant bodies, well, she tended to heal better than expected. She didn't have a healing factor, no, but she did have the heightened metabolism and that tended to help when she had the option of decent nutrition.

She tried to take the down time as a gift, she did. She only ran at first. A lot, on the ground, along the mountains, through the trees, she just ran, keeping up her wind. But a month stretched into a handful of months and she took up climbing and woodland parkour, trying to simulate vectors and angles she encountered in combat.

Then it happened; it was simple, and stupid and it shouldn't have bothered her because she had a good thing here, but she got winded. Doing something simple, for her, was harder than it should have been. It should have been alright because it was a sign, right? That she didn't need the combat skills any more. Not here, there was nothing to keep her sharp...

...but she couldn't really believe that. Working as a florist, hah, dangerous stuff. Stepping up to deputy? A breeze, and...she couldn't let the skills go. Something small, and terrified, and grim deep inside said she couldn't, and that voice had never led her wrong.

That just meant she had to get creative because no one would approve, especially not Bil.

When trapped and unable to train? Go to the source. Go to the people Mr. Creed had lived with for a while that had given him skills to teach her.

...or go to that area of the world anyway and hope to find someone who spoke with fists and feet properly.

She went to Vietnam. Stepping away for a few hours here and there to comb dripping jungles, watching and waiting until she saw the proper style. Perisai Diri was obvious even to her who'd learned it piece meal and adapted to a young, flexible teleporter. She didn't know the language beyond afew polite phrases given as ritual to teachers; she didn't have to.

She did have to stand up to being tested, women, after all, were not known as fighters even in Vietnam. Not hand to hand fighters anyway. She was in shape enough to pass that at least, though no one would call her a master by any means.

She couldn't even dedicate a few hours every day in training over there, just enough to stay sharp. Just enough to know the people coming at her when they lined up in a class or in a brawl session could be better than her. That edge of 'I'm not enough' that was true training. She always managed to scrape through. She was a lot like those she trained with after all, a child of depredation and war. They trained to keep a tradition of holding their land, she trained against them to stay alive, and they taught each other some interesting tricks as snatched weeks bled into months which hemorrhaged into years.

Bill had his alone time to relax and do his own thing; she had hers. It was more relaxing, at times, than even sex because it was confirmation that she could survive. Even in a world such as this there were people who understood, as the man she was growing to love didn't, and so she allowed silence.

She didn't ask where he spent his free time when they didn't have plans; she didn't offer what she did with hers. It was the best she could do some days, even days like this when she slipped in the back door covered in mud along one side and eyes still glowing from power use and high emotion. There had been an honor awarded tonight; it was a good thing...she just...wasn't sure Bill would understand if she offered to share the honor as she'd been invited to.

She wasn't sure how to ask.

One thing was certain though, she'd need a shower before she decided anything, yes.

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Bill found himself a place to sit and he watched.

It was both beautiful and terrifying to see her in her element. How she moved, how she fought and handled herself. He could hardly imagine what she would be like if this was real. One of those true life and death fights she'd had so many of before coming to Wheelsy.

This right here was scary enough.

And while everyone else was just as fast and fierce, it only took a little while of watching before he wasn't afraid for her anymore.

This was as much a test of endurance as it was finesse and skill. Three out of the seven flagged before too long, another slowed but didn't miss a beat. Those that faltered took hits after a while and had to bow out and the still moving fighters let them leave gracefully.

The gong shivered again after an hour, the four remaining freezing in place like perfectly poised marionettes, punches stilled, kicks raised, and like the earlier fight, it was a test of endurance. To hold. And to wait.

And wait.

And hold.

The gong shivered again after the elder man dropped his foot and bowed out.

Two women, one man, and the gong shivered again, all three dropped to the ground, foreheads touching the mats until a truly old man walked from the upper path to touch gnarled feet to the mat. The words he spoke were barely a whisper but the three students jumped to their feet as if electrified and followed as he turned to walk back up the path.

As soon as the last glimpse of the three were gone the watchers started stirring, stretching and chatting, and an older woman walked around the mats to offer him a cup. "...drink? Ah...some English."

Bill watched, fascinated by the whole thing. It was intense, for certain, and he couldn't imagine the type of hard training it had taken for the students to get to this point.

He wanted to clap when Clarice made it through but no one else did so he held in his cheer and resisted the urge to follow after her as she left with the others.

Looking up at the woman he smiled and gave a nod, "Uh, yeah. Thank you."

She passed him the cup with a smile and settled down beside him, "you wife and my daughter. This is good, yes, like family. Eat? With us? Be...long time now."

"Oh now, we're not-- she's uh, she's my girlfriend," Bill corrected with some mild embarrassment.

He took a drink and nodded to her offer.

"Yeah, sure. Thank you."

"Not wife? I do not the word! But bad, not wife, should marry! Strong girl, good sons!" The lady pronounced easily. What? It was a bit of free advice lest he lose the strange fighter!

"Come, eat with daughter husband, tell him okay! So worry him!" And yes she reaching down to tug him to his feet despite that fact that standing? Bill would be over a foot taller!

"Yes ma'am, she is," he said, hauling himself up with her help.

Dusting himself off he nodded, "Alright, eatin' sounds good, thank you."

She set her hands on her hips and looked him up and down properly before nodding, "you do. Worried like son!" Ah, men when their women went off to learn dangerous things! "Him there, get him yes? I get food!"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, following her direction to the man she indicated.

"Hey, uh... hello?" he greeted the man, hoping he spoke at least some English, then gestured back of his shoulder. "I guess it's time t'eat?"

"Hello," he offered quietly, eyes still firmly glued to the trail beyond the ring. Yes, he was something of a nervous wreck. "My mother is being pushy at you is she not? Ah, sorry, I worked with Green Peace for several years, I apologize for her grammar."

Bill blinked, surprised at the man's English, and then smiled.

"S'alright, it's what mom's do," he said, then waved off the apology for the old lady's English and instead offered his hand. "I'm Bill. My girlfriend just went off with those others, so I get how you feel."

He looked at Bill's hand for a moment then shook it ruefully, "you are very real. There is a story your girl is a forest spirit. No one can track her into the woods when she leaves and she is, well, pink." But they didn't mind forest spirits in the least really.

"If you sit here with me Mother will be annoyed and bring the food here but we can watch the path."

Bill chuckled, shaking his head, "No, not a spirit. She's just really good at what she does." And pink...

He nodded and settled down, glancing back to where he saw the old woman go, "She ain't a swatter, is she?" With a chuckle he explained, "My mom is a fan of wooden spoons when she's annoyed."

"Strange woman," he'd worry if the woman hadn't brought a man with her, more because one didn't introduce friendly lovers to others if one was a spy somehow. Not that there was much to spy on here. Still. "But meeting you makes her seem more human." Certainly!

"Ah...no. She will yell at me some, and then tell my wife to tease me when she returns."

Bill chuckled. "Yeah, she gets that a lot. But it don't take long knowin' her to get that really she's the good sort of person."

He chuckled about the old woman, too, then nodded down the path Clarice and the others had taken.

"So... what's goin' on down there? Clarice explained it to me some, but I don't really know much about this kind of thing."

"She would," he agreed thoughtfully. "But it is good that she is good. I do not think the elder would train someone who was not? But it is still best." Yes, someone who was evil perhaps? That'd be very bad.

"Ah, they are...learning final forms. It takes them from crude weapons to works of art. They are...I am not sure of the best words. They can only be shown once, they will learn or they will fail and no longer be fighters."

"Really?" Bill held in a frown. He had great confidence in Clarice, but it would be terrible if she made it this far and was denied now.

"Those others who weren't chosen earlier, will they get another shot at it, or was that it?"

"If they choose to keep learning and practicing they may be selected to try again," he admitted softly, "but failure in the final forms will break a person." Was it any wonder he was worried and watching the path?

That got a startled reaction from Bill and his worry jumped up several notches.

"How d'you mean 'break'?"

"The final forms are dangerous. To be a weapon you hone your body and you know it better than you do your husbands or wife's body. I am not a fighter like this, but the dangerous ones? If they learn wrong they can damage themselves inside. It will not kill them but it is like making a sword. If the blade breaks during the forging it is discarded and cannot be used."

Bill frowned hearing that, eyes drifting back to the path Clarice and the others had taken.

"She didn't tell me none of that... "

"Nor did my wife," he admitted with a soft, strained chuckle. "I am a doctor. They would not wish us to worry, and they are very skilled."

Bill would bet the man's wife had at least told him she was training like this, but that was a bitter thought he didn't want to hang onto, so he let it go.

"Yeah. I'm sure they'll both be fine."

Actually he'd come back from a medical tour to find out about the selection but he'd known if he panicked his wife would kick him in the head. "Yes, and yet I can't look away," he admitted wryly.

Bill chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. "That's what a woman does to ya."

Makes you wait in a jungle, staring down a path for her to come back.

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