{002}. † :: Too bad, but it's the life you lead ::

[iwascomplete]

Well, she'd been there long enough to know the ropes and get what was going on. She'd been there long enough to get settled, long enough to meet people and make a few new friends... Long enough to relax and try to get over the shock of being ripped out of Heaven. Even with a wonderful and understanding roommate to talk to, her best friend being

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[redeemedripper]

John took most hours of his days to reflect. His time in El Dorado had begun to look more and more like fate. First, he had encountered Helen from a future point in time - a time when she was aware of his true condition, and a time when their daughter had already passed on. Then, he'd met a man claiming to be an angel, and after a few moments of conversation, John actually believed him. Both events had shaken the normally stoic man to his core. What was this place, to bring him together with such poignant figures? Was his task here to repent for his sins, to change? Did others have such quests? John didn't have the answers to his questions, and so he spent many hours wandering the hotel and the city, pondering the possibilities. Today was not any different than such a day.

He was a skilled fighter. He had to be in order to commit his atrocious crimes and yet stay out of Helen's captivity. It had been years since he had stepped into a proper gym, though. Most of his talents were either learned in the time of his life before he'd been given an abnormality - or he'd learned them through experience. There was a sense of shame that he had in the skills that he knew he could execute on another human being. What sort of monster was he that he knew exactly how to end another person's life? Even with the darkness within him pushed into the furthest corner of his mind, John knew it still lurked, and he could not unlive the horrible scenes he had already acted out.

As he walked, John heard a familiar sound - grunts and the thump of flesh hitting something solid. His curiosity got the better of him. Was there a conflict already in this peaceful city? He rounded a corner and came upon a scene that made much more sense to him. It was the girl he'd made late one night, troubled and unable to sleep - it didn't look as though she had adjusted much better. He paid special attention to her face as he watched through the large window. Unmoving, unfeeling - how often had he worn that same expression? John's heart ached for the young woman. She reminded him so much of his own daughter, and now she showed too many signs of falling into his same path. What if this was another mission? He couldn't very well sit back and let her fall into such a trouble path.

He pushed open the door, loud enough to be heard, and walked slowly along the back wall. He didn't want to interrupt her routine, yet wanted to let her know that someone was watching and worried. John folded his hands behind his back, just observing her form. She was quite good - better than he would have guessed after meeting her on that park bench.

[iwascomplete]

Buffy heard the door, somewhere far off in her mind, but she was too immersed in what she was doing to react to it. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on her target, landing a series of punches on the same spot over, and over, until it weakened just slightly. This punching bag wasn't going to last long if she kept up training like this on a near-daily basis.

Her blows slowed down as the spot weakened, and her breathing relaxed. The laboring difficulty of each breath became a soft and subtle rhythm, and her arms slowly dropped to her side. She tilted her head back to the ceiling and closed her eyes again and she took one, slow deep breath to settle her back into a calm state of being.

It wasn't until that moment that she turned toward the direction of the door's sound. There stood the man she'd met the other evening, late at night. She didn't smile. She didn't wave. She didn't even utter a greeting of any sort. She simply nodded to him, only keeping his gaze for a moment before her eyes dropped to the floor once more. This wasn't the time for her to socialize. She moved and sat upon the floor again, her legs crossing once more. After several minutes, she felt his gaze still upon her, and her eyes lifted again. She simply looked at him, waiting for something. Anything.

[redeemedripper]

John stood very still as she walked away from her exercise and moved to sit on the mat. He shifted slightly, removing his long leather coat, and began to roll up the cuffs of his sleeves. There was so much bottled up inside of her - a rage, perhaps? It was nearly always his first assumption, based on his own experiences. If she needed an outlet, it was also possible that she needed one that would fight back - not simply take her blows in turn. He understood that need, and would oblige if it was what she required. John walked forward slowly, the sound of his footsteps seeming impossibly loud compared to the silence between the both of them. He stopped a few feet away and looked back at her with the same expectation.

"Well?" He said, his expression serious, "Shall we begin? I think you should find me a most interesting opponent." He knew his style of fighting nearly always involved utilizing his gift, so it was only fair to let her know beforehand. John was still under the impression that this young woman was normal in her aggression, and didn't want to overwhelm her. He teleported himself a few feet back and motioned for her to come after him.

[iwascomplete]

Buffy hadn't expected him to prepare himself for a spar of any kind, but she wasn't closed to the idea, and stepped forward toward him. Her eyebrows raised as she watched him disappear for a moment only to reappear in a different spot. It reminded her slightly of Dracula, but she had every reason to believe that his intentions were good in this. He hadn't given her any reason to think he was a threat.

"Alright. If you're offering, I guess I'll take it. Can't be any worse than a vampire." She spoke so nonchalantly of her charge, but time had tested her enough and this place seemed safe. She'd met one vampire, who was quite harmless, and didn't really worry about others finding out about her here - especially if they weren't large in number. A deep breath was followed by a few well-placed and quick steps forward, and she threw herself into a cartwheel that was proceeded by a flip, which then melted into a series of rapid fire punches.

[redeemedripper]

"Much worse than a vampire." John said, a slightly amused look on his face. He had killed Tesla once before - or at least tried very hard. Teleporting his hand through Nikola's sternum , pulling it out and watching the man - the monster, fall. It hadn't been permanent. That would have been too easy. John and Nikola had an understanding now, but... Still, the memory lingered.

He watched her move, very graceful and precise. She placed every move with the conscious thought of the end result. He was ready for her when she finally landed near him, throwing punches. He managed to block the first few, but she moved much faster than he expected. On landed solidly in his chest, another to his jaw. So far, John hadn't thrown a punch back at her, but he wasn't passively accepting her blows either. He grabbed for her fist, twisting his body's momentum to propel her away from him.

[iwascomplete]

"I have a hard time believing there could be anything much worse than a vampire. Unless you're going to surprise me and turn into a blond, curly-haired Hell-God." The last came out bitterly, angrily, and was nearly spat from her lips. Buffy didn't waste a second with banter and got right down to what she'd come into this gym to do. She wanted to train, wanted to fight. It gave her purpose. It wasn't much feeling, but the stings of pain as she struck objects, sparring partners - it was the closest she'd get.

She'd expected he'd be good from how he'd presented himself, and the dodging before her blows hit didn't surprise her. What did was the sudden pain in her wrist as he twisted, and how easily he managed to propel her into another flip. She wanted to avoid a broken arm if she could manage, and it seemed to be the only way. Buffy quickly pulled her arm back from him and used her other to grab the offending wrist, spinning herself in an attempt to twist him around and have his arm bent behind him, immobilized. "You're good. I'll give you that."

THIS IS WHAT WE CALL MY COME BACK

[redeemedripper]

"I've had quite some time to practice." He replied, smiling just slightly. "And you have decent technique." Not to mention a hell of a punch. John could hide pain fairly well, but he couldn't deny to himself that there was a touch of soreness where her fist had connected. He'd fought many men and a few women in his day - his daughter being one of the most capable (though reckless) - but this young woman surprised him. She had all the possibility of being quite dangerous, should she choose to be.

He had no intention of going easy on her, though. John lowered his center of gravity, hands in a defensive stance only briefly (because he didn't plan to remain defensive for long) before he moved toward her. Part of him thought of pulling his punches, but the girl seemed to want a good spar, and what sort of partner would he be to deny her the feel of a strike or the chance to truly block? He was aware of their height difference and how he had to swing low to connect with any part of her. It might have been comical in another circumstance.

BWAHHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA-*hackcoughdie*-ha.

[iwascomplete]

"Only decent? I think I might be just a little bit insulted." A bit of wit, a little splash of humor. The smile on her lips didn't last long, though, and the fleeting moment of the normal spark she held was gone in an instant. Her expression fell back to serious, and she watched him carefully. She would study his moves, his patterns... Get used to him. If she wanted to take it in completely, she'd have to take a few blows.

Buffy felt the crack before she saw the movement, and she winced at the hit to her stomach. In a flash, she bounced back, and gripped his wrist hard. She twisted his arm away from him, using the momentum to propel herself through the air, and attempted to toss him to the ground with the force left behind.

[redeemedripper]

He didn't bother to toss another serving of banter back at her. If she had waned to talk, they would be talking, but she wanted to fight - and so they were. John watched her use him to move through the air, a dull ache in his arm as she twisted it in the wrong direction (which he was sure was her full intention). The next moment, he was being tossed into the air. This was no small feat, and John was rather impressed by the girl's ability to utilize her opponent's weight to her advantage.

Unfortunately, she wasn't fully aware of his power, and just as he hit the ground, John teleported the both of them (since she had her hand on him and the contact allowed him to take others along for the ride) across the room. He gave a hard yank to his captured arm when they rematerialized and quickly turned to give her a hard kick to the torso.

[iwascomplete]

Buffy had no idea what had just happened to her, but she was caught off guard, and trying to figure it out when the kick hit her square in the chest. She coughed and yelped in pain, flying back and crashing into a bit of equipment. Quickly, she was back on her feet, and did a few cartwheels and a back flip, then dropping and kicking his feet out from underneath him.

She leaned down and grabbed him by either side of the collar of his shirt and lifted him into the air, making an attempt to throw him back to the ground, with more force than before... But she was still a bit rocky, trying to figure out just how they'd wound up on a different side of the room than where they'd been before. He was a strange one, that was certain.

[redeemedripper]

John fell to the ground with a loud 'oof' of air escaping him, which was quickly followed by a chuckle as she lifted him. She was good. Very good and it reminded him so much of his daughter and their less than pleasant sparring matches. He also knew that laughter often through off opponents, which was always his goal. She lifted him, which still impressed him, but while he tried to gain her footing, John took the opportunity to raise his knee sharply into her gut.

"What is it that has you so desperate to bleed?" He asked, half goading her, while also being honestly concerned. He phrased the question and used a tone to sound condescending, though. She seemed to need an outlet, a punching bag, and it was something he was good at.