I'll Make a Man Out of You! [Closed]

[The Dark Knight]

The sound of his footfalls heralded his arrival. Each step echoed with a thunderous boom, as though the ground was being trampled upon by a giant. But Apidej was no giant, at least not in stature; his spirit, on the other hand, was another story entirely. As the sun's sweltering rays heated and harassed every inch of the grassland, his skin glowed with an inner light, as though he was not a man of flesh and bones, but a statue of polished bronze. His hair was dark and unruly, not unlike the mane of a wild stallion. Something about this man suggested that he walked on the edge of propriety at all times, bending any custom and rule he saw fit, while tossing out the rest. This was a man that couldn't be measured by the same yardstick commonly used to gauge men, for he was either the best or the worse.

There was no middle ground for a man like him.

"Come, Liese. I don't have all day."

Now that they faced each other in battle, Apidej was different. His gentle, good-natured face had hardened into a blank, impassive slate, and his full, soft lips pressed into a thin, harsh line. Before now, his large hands has only been seen furiously scribbling away at a piece of parchment or warmly shaking the hands of his fellow comrades. Now they balled into tight fists, and the thick coils of muscles that ran along his bare arm rippled and tensed like a bundle of ropes. His frame suddenly seemed broader, and the soft lines of his body sharper. In an instance, he had transformed from a laughing, jolly lad to a fighter. A killer.

"Give me your best shot, girl."

[Ace]

The person he'd come to meet stood silently, waiting, near the center of a plot of vacant farmland. She was unspectacular in her five-seven stature and medium figure, her weight balanced primarily on the right leg, calmly smokin' a dart. Her left foot crossed behind her, toe in the dirt. When those mauve eyes caught the familiar, approaching shape in the distance, Rooster sealed the fag loosely between rose-petal lips and lifted both hands to shed her cloak.

Slender, nimble fingers loosened the leather laces that secured it at her clavicle, the dark fabric rippling as she folded it across her arm. The woman moved with such quintessential apathy, exhaling tendrils of smoke while she tossed her cloak aside.

"Come, Liese. I don't have all day."

The brunette quirked a brow. A brief flicker passed over her visage, as fleeting and indiscernible a tic as a single frame spliced into a filmstrip, but it would have been enough to put those who knew her best apprehensively on edge. The danger signs were still there. Her colleague could be friendly as a pup in the right mindset, but lacked in common manners. After all, he had kept her waiting.

So, the way Rooster saw it, he could stand to wait a couple minutes more.

She finished her drag, the cherry at the tip smoldering through its final inch of black paper, and extinguished the embers against the gloved heel of her hand. Liese never tossed a cigarette butt, but tucked it into her hip pouch for later. Prone to vices she may be, but never litter. With the use of only one hand, the woman unfastened her utility kit from her hip as well and tossed it lightly aside with the cloak.

Rooster's stance changed very quickly. She centered her weight, knees slightly bending, the balls of her feet pressing into the loamy earth, and a concentrated rigidity coursing through her. She darted forward with startling agility, both hands curling into loose not-quite fists and rising into a defensive position before her chin and torso, leaving them uncommitted and open to a punch, grapple, or block at a split second's notice.

It was a feint that Liese was after, though. The first blow in a fight had the advantage of being the only one she could really use to take her opponent by surprise. Once things heated up, if the adversary had any head on him at all, he would have at least a general idea of where her hands were and therefore what her next move must be, so the second she found herself in range the woman thrust her left fist momentously towards Apidej's unprotected nose. When he reacted, her dominant hand would follow throw with an arced swing for the ribs -- knowing better than to try and focus her aim on areas like his stomach that would be protected by a thick, honed layer of muscle. As a woman she naturally had less power, and had to make the smartest use of what she had.

[The Dark Knight]

Everything about Apidej indicated that he was a man of fire, from the ceaseless, dynamic energy to the fiery speeches he used to galvanize his men into action. But in all actuality, he was more like water. Instead of fuming and explosively challenging her for her defiance, he waited. He took the time to peel away at her appearance, and in that instant, the rest of the world became a colorful blur. There was just her, standing in the center of his vision, while every detail on her body was magnified tenfold. His eyes pried and probed, siphoning away misleading details and soaking in telling revelations. He watched for any tics, perhaps a twitch on one foot, or a crease of her brows. In that instant, he knew her better than anyone else in the world.

Then it began.

A dance that will leave one of them on their knees, misplaced pride scattered to the wind.

To Apidej, it seemed as though she was running towards him at a snail's pace. He continued to wait as she closed the gap between them. Then he stepped. His timing was impeccable, for the space that he had occupied only a second prior was now empty, and he had swung to her right. He moved so fast that he left a streak of speed in his wake, and by the time she'd realize he was gone, he had already struck. Twice.

When he stepped, his left hand snaked out to clap her across the head. Less than a second later, his standing foot twisted and his right shin struck her mid-thigh. The first blow was a distraction, to feed her the idea that he was targeting her head; the second blow meant to buckle her and send her sprawling. Next, he kicked towards her middle. If she folded against his previous blow, his shin would smash into her head with enough force to swamp her into a feverish haze. If she stood her ground and remained erect, it would impact her middle, effectively knocking the breath out of her while throwing her backwards.

Then he was gone, bouncing backwards with steps so lithe and light that it seemed as though he was gliding across the ground. It was awe-inspiring, for in spite of his massive frame, he was light as a feather, and in that instant, he was no longer a man, but a god of war.

"Do you know what you did wrong, Rooster?"

[Ace]

And suddenly,pain!

Apidej's dinner-plate sized hand connected solidly with Rooster's temple and sent a spray of stars exploding across the Lieutenant's eyes. Her head throbbed with migraine-like intensity from the blow against her skull.

Focus! Don't reel! The boyish soldier managed to summon up a split second of clarity and refocused her stance. Knees bent, boots slid a hair of inch in the dirt for fresh traction, her body weight centered. All for balance, as she guessed a fatherly smack on the head was not going to be the keystone of the General's offense. This flash of preparation proved fortunate; she felt a sort of shockwave-like pressure scarcely a blink later as Apidej's shin clapped against her well-muscled thigh.

A vehement swear broke hoarsely from Rooster's throat. Most women, light as reeds in comparison to this mountainous opponent, would have buckled without protest. Rooster, however, quickly compensated by shifting her weight to the unaffected foot and twisting slightly. She started to draw the other foot forwards, looking to sweep her opponent's angle, but he had far less adjusting to do with that double kick than she. Liese could move like a tempest, but to her deepest chagrin, Apidej was faster and far richer in experience.

His foot hit square in Rooster's gut, and the air rushed completely and achingly from her lungs. Thrown backwards a solid yard and a half, the rogue grimaced and lay still for a moment, the sting of her wounded pride far acuter than any physical ailment she suffered. (Although, her tailbone ached white-hot from the rough landing)

"Gaia damn!"

This was a training session. She hadn't expected the giant ape to bring his whole game to the table, and the fact that he had sent the dark-haired woman awash with ire. Eventually she climbed back to her feet and spit into the, just to express the depths of her irritation with her superior.

"No," Liese muttered, acidic sarcasm laced throughout her voice, only plainly enough to be vaguely noticeable. This was for her benefit, after all. Even if his methods blew. "What did I do wrong?"

[The Dark Knight]

Apidej was surprised. He had not expected her to stand after the second strike. But not only that, she had made an attempt to sweep him! As soon as he saw the alternation in her stance, he threw his body forward, perhaps with more force that he had intended in the beginning. The blow sent her careening backwards, and Apidej, who was accustomed to switch from offense to defense in an instant, was gliding smoothly away. He circled her as a hawk would to a prey, all the while his mind traversed distant horizons and juggled present possibilities.

She had performed well. But there was much for her to learn, and this was but a single step of a thousand miles. But she has potential, and Apidej seized upon this in an instant. You see, for all his cheer and modesty, there was a side of him that none had seen before. It was darker, wilder, and tougher than anyone could possibly imagine. Apidej had been firm with his comrades before, but now he must be hard to her. Hard, with a stone-faced indifference and tight-lipped determination. She would have to learn to vault across the limitless skies and wade through gigantic oceans just to be able to keep up. But if her intent was not only to keep up, but to dash ahead, she must learn to push her mortal body to immortal heights.

"Hands up at all times. Defend your base. If you falter before you can unleash your attack, it means nothing."

He was upon her in an instant. Standing over her, his golden eyes burned like pots of melted gold. His tone was biting, and if Rooster ever heard a touch of warmth in his voice before, it was gone, thrown out the window at breakneck speeds and replaced by a chilly, acidic derision. When she clamored back to her feet, a cold, mirthless smile birthed across his lips.

"I can see you're not one to stay down. Good." A brief pause, "But if you don't start working harder, that's the only grade you'll ever get. Good, not excellent, not superb, not perfect."

Floating away from her with lithe, dancelike steps, he curled his fists and lifted them so his knuckles leveled with his cheekbones. His arms were pulled close to his body, and in the blink of an eye, the man with open hands and arms became an impregnable castle.

"Like this." His arms fell back to his side, "I want you performing the same motion a hundred times over, then another hundred, until it becomes drilled into your body. There are times when a man must kill, and when it is called upon you to do so, it must come to you as naturally as breathing. But do not mistake that for thoughtless, unfeeling motion." He stepped back, gesturing for her to imitate him, "No matter what they say, combat is an art of feeling. Feel yourself throw the punch. No two punches are exactly alike. But you must keep practicing it, perfecting it...until one day the punch becomes yours. Until you fill it with something unique, yours and yours alone."