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[VIDEO;]

Every now and again I see people curious to learn some hand to hand--or hell, some weapons--fighting. I'm offering to teach, assuming you're up to the task. I'll tell you now, not everyone will be.

[PRIVATE VIDEO to BARBARA and IRIS]

[Admittedly he hesitated to put Barbara on the filter but logic wins out in the end.]

So what've you two put together about the Barge's engines? Need to bounce a few ideas at you.

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[It's a good warning. Cain makes a habit of finding buttons to push, to force his pupils to lash out in anger until they learn not to get angry. But she's too much like his own child in age and size and keen intelligence for him to want to risk doing that with her.

She will see quickly, though, why he had that disclaimer. He rarely pulls his punches and he might be sixty but he's stronger than many men half his age--certainly better trained.]

See you then. Just wear whatever you'd wear on the streets.

On the streets I'd wear my knives.

[She's sure he could train with or without. But the focus, as she understood the offer, was hand to hand. It doesn't sound like it's a question, whether to leave them, but it is.]

Bring 'em along.

[He can start her from scratch, and might still, but if she's comfortable with knives he'd prefer to start there, working with her strengths.]

[A curt nod; at the appointed time she arrives. Her clothes are comfortable, on the consrvative side, not obviously chosen for flexibility or to hide her durable ceramic knives, although both were considerations. She considers bowing, like she would for Bruce, or Cass, or Bea, but in the end she simply presents herself, waits lightly on her feet to see how he'll begin. She's half expecting a worldless attack. She isn't tense with it, but she's ready to react, if it comes.]

[And that is how he would normally have proceeded. But his mouth goes dry when he starts analyzing her for weak points, and so he tells himself the sparring will come later.]

Tell me about the last time you used those knives.

Two-face tried to strangle me. I stabbed in him in the thigh, aiming blind for the artery, and missed by an inch. I stabbed him in the stomach and kidneys as well. I shattered his kneecap with a kick when he tried to run, pulled his head back and held the knife to his throat until someone with the upper body strength to bring him to the infirmary could arrive.

The summons is still public if you want to look at it, but it's mostly just bickering. Bloodloss makes him tetchy, apparently.

[It's a very calm recital. Not cold, just calm. Part of her wants to smile, but she doesn't.]

Edited 2014-04-01 17:58 (UTC)

[Cain can read that near-smile; it makes his own grin feel conspiratorial somehow.]

You've got more restraint than most people I've trained. Kind of a relief for me, to tell the truth.

Here's what I'm thinking. You know the vital shots to take, there's no point in us going over it when you've got it handled already. Instead we're going to put you through some challenges. Blind challenges, sensory dep, disorientation. Things we might face on whatever planet the Admiral takes us to next.

Killing him would have been a challenge. Keeping him alive, wounded, totally helpless, waiting on my convenience - that was a message.

[Which isn't to say it didn't still take restraint, in the moment, to register that she had those choices at all. But it wasn't genlteness or her friendship with Harvey - wasn't only that - which lead to her choosing as she did.

She does smile, as she listens to the idea. That sounds fun. Horrible fun, maybe - but she likes to push herself.]

I'd like that.

As a caveat. I have lung damage from a fire when I was a child. Lower lung capacity, difficulty breathing after a while. I can work around it but I can't change it. I'm not asking you to pull any punches, but I'd rather not be suffocated accidentally.

[That complicates things, but Cain thinks a moment and then nods.]

We won't make you run unless you've got no other choice. You've got close combat handled, and people are going to underestimate you. I think we can work this to your advantage, lung damage and all.

[He motions for her to follow him to the center of the room.]

How many hiding places d'you see?

[A small, sharp breath - not shocked, but surprised enough that it is a tell; she hasn't worked on hiding much since she came to the barge. It's a perspective from her old life, from years and years of sneaking around that vast, drafty mausoleum.]

That depends. Do I get to assume I'm hiding from primarily human senses?

For now. We'll work on the rest as you advance.

[He's reading her, head tilted slightly.]

You up for this?

[She takes another breath, deep but not particularly slow, lets herself settle. She nods, smiles.

She thinks of the sound the curtain made when it was pulled aside, so much louder than her breath, the way the marble floor vibrated under her thin-soled shoes when Magneto bellowed, startled and embarrassed to realize she was there, even though of course he could sense her iron blood the whole time. She'd just kept still and quiet, and he'd forgotten.

She thinks of the moment she cracked, or was forged, the moment she decided to kill him. None of it overpowers her, anymore. It's baked into her foundations, but they're steady, and she knows where all the pitfalls are. She's calm when she answers, secure in herself.]

I am. It just brought up some memories - unexpected, not unbearable.

[She clasps her hands behind her back, strides around the space, a quick but careful examination. She's not a small girl, though she sometimes still holds herself like one, 5'7" plus sturdy boots, starts listing places, half-consciously ranking them by the range of movement she'd have to strike from if someone caught and cornered her. It's easy, like this. A game she can do well at.]

Edited 2014-04-03 16:33 (UTC)

[He nods, and doesn't ask--if he needs to know, it will come up later. That's how these things work if you're expected to sink or swim. So he steps back and watches her as she analyzes the room, and then he makes his way to the lights.]

You'll have forty seconds to hide. Assume there are two soldiers--for now we'll say they're regular, decently-trained humans. They're both out to capture you, and you don't know what weapons they have.

Do I know who else is in earshot?

[If they find her, how imperative is it to take them out before they yell.]

No. Smart money has you assuming that there's more out there, though.

[Which he's sure she would have assumed with just a simple 'no', now that he thinks of it, so he'll have to test those skills later.]

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