This One's Gonna Bruise
OOC: This is a closed post. Lennox and Graham are going to be practising close quarters, hand-to-hand combat. As they are both highly-trained military men performing very fast and very lethal maneuvers, I would strongly advise not interrupting them, unless there is a very compelling reason to; in which case please do drop a PM to either Lennox-mun ( Read more... )
*Up, a few situps, showered, and dressed. Will leaned against the wall stretching out his legs. He'd emptied all the supplies from his pockets and taken off the extra gear. Rather Graham not bust something if he hit the canteen normally strapped to his waist... even if he might have deserved it for being a sneaky bastard with Maggie last night.*
*He eyed his watch, hoping that his and the Captain's were still synced after all this time. In the military, if you weren't early, you were late. But he wanted to cut it damn close, just to pique the trooper.*
*Lennox passed up on boots, but carted them along slung by the laces over his shoulder. Just pants and a light t-shirt. Hell, he'd prolly ditch the shirt and go boxing style...*
0558, at the door...
0559, outside...
0600, spotting the Captain...
0600:02 Alright, Graham. Ready for that beatdown you requisitioned?
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*In the middle of a stretch, he turns to the Major with a grin, noting the boots slung over Will's shoulder. Graham straightens slowly, deliberately glancing at his watch. Too bad he wouldn't be able to get the man to pay up on those pushups.*
We'll see who's getting pounded after you wind up with your ass halfway across town, Lennox. By the by, you're about a minute early, by my time.
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That much? Shit, should've assumed dimension hopping would mess with the timepieces.
You're welcome to try. *spreads his palms and smirks, eying the other NEST operative* Alright, so what's the rules you want for this? Pinned? Till you tap out?
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*Mention dimension hopping, and the line of Graham's mouth quirks in a subtle twist,* We're in a bloody Twilight Zone. *He clears his throat, his usual good humour working its way back into blue eyes as he crouches to undo the laces on his boots, yanking them off.*
That's a fairly big gap there, Major. Sync them up? And we'll go until one or the other taps out.
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*dips his head in a sympathetic half-nod*
Deal. *fairly sure this is starting soon ...Ranger sense is tingling?*
*he eyes the area they're in, clear of rocks or anything that can impale each other on, soft dirt, the Captain chose well. Will steps up to Graham, holding out his left wrist towards the Trooper's*
So what's it off, a minute and change?
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*Leaving his boots, he steps closer, lines of his body still easy, but he's watching. The dirt is soft between his toes and while warming up, he's done his best to clear the area. Graham brings up his own watch, all set to synchronise on Lennox's command.
Minute and change, one minute twenty four behind yours, actually. On your word, sir.
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*Pulls his boots from his shoulder and slings them over by Graham's, settles his weight over his hips and looks at his watch, waiting for the digits to cycle towards 60.*
Right, coming on 0606... *Waits for the Brit to adjust his timepiece and rocks lightly on his feet. Lips pull back in a challenging smirk.* ...in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1- Mark.
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*The little ritual is oddly soothing, and as he marks, he nods in affirmation. Catching Lennox's smirk from under his lashes, he returns it with a small, cool smile.* 0606 and seven, eight, nine, ten -
* - and breaks unexpectedly, his right elbow coming up for Lennox's nose, body twisting and left hand ready to catch the Ranger's counter.*
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*Inhales sharply and rocks his head back, hitting Graham's elbow wide with the side of his fist.*
Shit...
*Lennox grunts, stepping to shift his weight down and alongside, right hand faking low then going for a grab high on the other's left shoulder.*
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*Brow furrowed in concentration, Graham hisses a breath through his teeth as the fake nearly catches him, muscle memory reacting as he jabs to block. But he steps in on loose knees and jerks his left shoulder back, right hand darting in to catch Lennox's wrist.*
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*Teeth flash a moment when Matt gets his wrist, yanking his left arm up and pushing close. Pulls a right punch just short of the Brit's jaw, and sweeps out that leg going for the back of his left ankle.*
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*Damn, the man is fast. And his blood is up, relishing the challenge presented by the Major. Gripping the Ranger's wrist, he grits his teeth and whips an arm up to lock around the back of Lennox's neck, collapsing with the sweep into dead weight. Graham torques his body to the right, pushing off with his foot to help him roll, and land on top of the other man.*
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Guh... *Frickin' hell, train them up similar but juuust different across the pond. He ducked his head, keeping Graham from having too much leverage on his neck, and took the fall on his hip. Will blocks his face with his forearms, hitting Graham's bicep to break the hold on his neck and tugging that arm out in a lock.*
Shit- *The Ranger kicks his legs out of the tangle before Matt can manage to straddle his hips. If the Trooper accomplishes that, Lennox is done for.*
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*Grunting, he bears down on Lennox, feeling the buck that tells him what the man is up to. He scrabbles for a firm grip on Will's shirt to keep his hands in play and out of the lock, driving a knee into the Ranger's groin, once, twice, checking the motions at the last minute. Graham follows up with an underhand strike to the throat that taps lightly on skin, moving to grip Lennox's throat with a low, nearly soundless growl.*
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*Damn, those last three blows would have Lennox in agony and maybe not breathing... if they'd connected with the force Graham could put behind them.
Not doing well, William, my boy.
He wraps his legs around the Trooper's waist and arches hard, trying to lever him back. Will snarls quietly and strikes a forearm just inside an elbow. Ten seconds, if he can't break the choke in that little window, in combat he'd be unconscious.*
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*As soon as he feels legs wrapping around his waist, he stiffens, throwing his weight forward to fight the push. His arm collapses at the strike, grip softening, and he nearly curses at that, it's going to cost him.
Shifting tactics, he rears up and forward with the motion, aiming a swift, carefully measured punch at Will's solar plexus, if he can't finish this within three moves, he'd be ashamed to call himself Special Air Service.*
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