ArchivedLogs:Cobra Kai

Cobra Kai
Dramatis Personae Peter, Rasa	2013-04-30 Ironically does not include Kai among the cast.
Location <XS> Gymnasium
For a mutant school, this is a pretty standard gym, even if its sturdy construction to handle mutant powers is less standard. Still, it is designed along normal lines; setup for a basketball court, standard equipment -- punching bags, rubber mats, standard assortment of balls, weight training equipment, the usual fare. It is large, and as well-appointed as the rest of Xavier's tends to be. Peter has come down to the gym today with a /very/ specific purpose, today. One which Dr. McCoy has been attempting to hammer into his head: He needs to spar. Like, actual. /People/. Also, he needs to do it without webshooters. Or without wall-crawling. Or without - well, running away. So, here Peter is. And, uh... oh, man. He's wearing the /costume/ why is he wearing the costume. He's clad in - blue jeans, red tabi socks, a red hoodie - and that ridiculous red ski-mask. Complete with yellow, bug-eyed goggles. Every bit of him except his hands are covered. He's /not/ wearing those funny wrist-watches he tends to watch. Also, the hood is up over his ski-mask - and, just from his body posture - he seems unusually /shy/ today. Like he's expecting someone to jump out from behind a punching bag and go 'THERE HE IS, GET HIM!'. Peter wrings his hands behind his back for a bit as he enters the gym, surveying for - Rasa. Rasa steps out from one of the locker rooms, strapping a pair of fingerless punching gloves over hir hands, the rest of hir limbs mostly covered in thin, stretchy material. The material is loose though, hanging with wrinkles around hir joints. Ze is wearing a tee shirt, with the Transformers style Bumblebee (Original Version) on the front, with a pair of jogging shorts around hir waist. Hir shoes are soft and thin as well, more to keep hir skin covered rather than provide any sort of support/protection. Once the velcro on hir gloves is secure, ze looks up and spies PETERSPIDER. Ze lifts a hand and gives a little wave, tilting hir head and smiling at him. "DO you always wear that when you work out? Should I not call you by your name or something?" Ze is curious and tickled pink. Literally. Pink floral print seeps in from hir hair line and reddens hir skin. "So, are we just punching, or do we need to be on mats?" "...no, it's just - uh, sometimes I just... prefer to be in costume," Peter half-mumbles this reply to Rasa's inquiry - before adding, hands flexing. "I, uh, dunno actually. This is the first time - I mean, I've never - Dr. McCoy showed me some /really/ basic stuff, but I've never actually - like, /sparred/ anyone before." The goggles reflect Rasa right back; if zhi concentrates, /maybe/ Peter's eyes can be made out - a vague outline /just/ beneath the strength of that yellow-glazed reflection. "...oh man should I be wearing - punchy gloves? I should probably be wearing punchy gloves." His head bobs down to peer at Rasa's fingerless gloves a moment, as if he's suddenly been stricken with /glove/ envy. Rasa gloves are indeed enviable. They are bright neon yellow pads with a black body and straps around hir wrists to protect them from incorrect posture and perhaps maybe breaks. Ze shrugs a little and rubs under hir nose. "They are a bit more for me than you, so I guess that depends on your pain tolerance and ... well, if we're actually going to be hitting hard." Ze looks at him and considers. "Maybe we should focus on wrestling." Ze waves him over to where the floor mats are. "What kind of stuff have you done so far? You know how to punch? Have you hit little pads in someone's hands yet?" Peter seems to straighten as Rasa mentions wrestling. "...I've punched /holograms/ I dunno if that counts - I mean they weren't holding pads, but - I punched a dummy, and a big sand bag, and - um, actually I've done wrestling with holograms too - Dr. McCoy was saying how, like, I have to learn - how not to /run/ away, and how to handle punches and - I've been practicing how not to punch hard," he finally confesses, moving toward the mat with a series of quick, rapid hops. Hop! Hop! *Thumpt*. "Okay. So. Um. Here's something to think about:" Rasa begins, rolling hir shoulders and starting to loosen up. It's the boxer's dance - wiggle, wiggle, loosen, roll the joints, a few quick punches. Yeah! Ready to go. "If you hurt me with your punches, you have to answer to Ivan. I don't know if that means that you will get the pathetic sadface, or if he will go swarm on you and choke you with bees." That said, Rasa continues to warm up with quick punches. "also, you know I'm not going to hurt you, because, I probably can't, but also because I don't want to face the same Ivanwrath." "I'm not - oh, man, I don't want to hurt you /anyway/ Rasa," Peter says, and now /he's/ doing stretches too - something Dr. McCoy has introduced him to! After several rounds of agility sessions. Peter's form of stretches mostly consist of leaning to the left, touching toes, leaning to the right - stretching his arms over his head - rocking his hips, side to side, swish swish swish. "I mean, yeah Ivan would be /ticked/ but, like - I /think/ I have gotten really good with pulling the punches? Like I've been practicing it for a while, and Dr. McCoy said he thinks I'm fine to spar real people now, which I guess is the reason why..." Trail off. "...but anyway, yeah I think I'll be /fine/." "The reason why what?" Rasa pursues the matter briefly, but then gets into a little bit lower stance, arms raised, guarding hir torso. "You ready?" Peter, meanwhile, upon finishing his stretches... assumes a low stance too. One that notably /mimics/ Rasa's own. He really has... no clue what the hell he's doing, here. His hands flex and open briefly. "...why he said, I should... try and practice with real people - instead of - um, holograms. I think he thinks I should be more social, too." Then: "...ready." He doesn't /sound/ ready. But, well... "Okay, how about we go slow. You come at me like you're just play fighting and I'll only use defensive moves, okay?" Rasa's brows dart up and down quickly before hir feet start taking hir around the floor, circling Pete where he stands, or moving around with him if he continues the mimic routine. "Unless you'd prefer it the other way around? I mean, you did say you wanted practice not just running away." Ergo, Peter = Aggressive. Peter turns to keep hir in eyesight, but otherwise doesn't mimic her motions - his brows seem /furrowed/ under that skimask, although it's hard to tell. Then: "Okay. Um. So... I'm supposed to, like. Okay." And then Peter's crouching /lower/ - one hand and knee on the mat, the other knee bent - his other arm extended - and there's a certain /edge/ to his posture. Like he's about to fly at Rasa and TACKLE hir! Except, he doesn't do that. Instead, he just leaps upward - open palm - aimed for Rasa's shoulder. Like he intends to /shove/ hir. Maybe really roughly. Hard enough to send someone reeling backward, anyway, though probably not hard enough to send anyone crashing to the floor. It's a clumsy, darty move - /fast/, focused, maybe even graceful - but not at all technically competent. It is very clear that he is making this up as he goes along. It's also /probably/ clear that he's holding back. Papft! Papft! Rasa knocks Peter's hand away with one hand the really knocks it away with the forearm of hir other arm, sending his whole trajectory off to one side. "Okay, Pete, slow it down a little and actually aim for something that is supposed to hurt me. Your aim is important. You don't want to train yourself just to ... well, I don't know if that would be what one would call 'missing...' but it certainly wasn't threatening." Ze keeps circling. Peter's hand instantly snaps back; at once, he's back on the floor, /hopping/ on all fours - sometimes, only three! - to keep up with Rasa's circling. "But... I don't want to like - I mean - what if I... ungh, /okay/," and - with a roll of Peter's shoulders, he hops backward - then /forward/, rising up to two legs - swinging an open-hand blow to /shove/ at Rasa's upper stomach! Again, fast, but again - holding back. At least he's aiming for something potentially /painful/, though...! Rasa's arms cinch inward and block the blow with hir elbows, skittering back a step or two, before twisting hir hips and pushing that blow away with another forearm block. "Is there a reason why you always go down? There's this thing, where, the longer the movement is, the more of a chance your opponent can see what's coming. It's akin to telegraphing your punches, which is like having a tell in poker, but ... with punches." Yep, supreme explainer Rasa wins this round. "I mean, you're fast and that's great, but some day, you might face people faster than me." "I... I don't know I guess, I just - want to give you... um, time to... I don't want to /hurt/ anybody," Peter admits, sounding a little - well, let's face it - /wimpy/. "I mean I know you're really good at this! I, I don't mean that like - I just - um." Deep-breath, Peter. "...okay." And then he shifts, rising to stand. Still low - knees bent - hands tight into little fists. And then... "Um, okay, I'm gonna... okay." In the space of time Peter took to launch one blow, he now launches /three/ - each with his palms open, more like hard /shoves/ than punches, although he clearly has no clue how he's supposed to position his hands. Either way, the blows are /fast/ - so fast that if you blink, you might miss one of them. One for the upper left chest; one for the upper right chest; one for the lower chest / upper stomach. *FPT* *FPT* *FPT*. 'WOAH' and 'FUCK' appear on Rasa's forehead as sparks of colored electricity dances across the tones of hir skin, eyes wide, arms tucked in, hands held over hir head to protect hersef. "FUCK," slips out of hir lips as well, stumbling back further. "Didn't I just say to GO SLOWER?" Words along the side of hir jaw read 'Don't make me take these gloves off.' "OHGOD. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," and Peter /immediately/ flings himself backward, away from Rasa; he lands about 5 yards back, crouched and with his hands on his head. "Oh man oh man did I - I didn't hurt you did I?" And now he's getting back up, a little, moving toward hir - though not /too/ quickly - immediately torn between a desire to make sure he didn't /hurt/ hir and not wanting to accidentally hurt hir /more/. "I didn't understand, I thought - I thought you wanted me to - stop - uh I'm sorry I misunderstood--" Rasa starts rolling hir shoulders again, frowning at the other boy and shaking hir head. "Oh, get up and come back over here. I'n not hurt. I was just encouraging you to cut out some of the extra movement." Ze frown and looks him over. "I might be fragile, but I'm not that fragile, and you're still not actually trying to hurt me." Ze dooooes reach one arm over to massage some of the knotted muscles out of hir shoulder. "We're still play fighting, working on aim and clean, succinct movements." "O-okay, I'm sorry," Peter apologizes again, hesitantly slinking back to his full height. "I - yeah I know it's just, um. I /know/ you can - you can handle yourself! Just, um. I'm just not - punchy. But I want to learn." And then he straightens fully, moving back toward Rasa. "Okay. And... and, yeah. I guess - the problem is, like, I can /dodge/ basically anything, I mean I don't even /think/ about it, but I can't - I don't know how to /hit/ things. People, I mean. I keep thinking - I'm terrified they'll /break/. But, I can... okay." Peter shifts. Assuming - well, what passes for Peter's 'battle stance'. Knees bent; hands out in front of him - one low, the other high. "So, I should - take it slow, but keep it /tight/ and small." "You want me to show you some basics?" Rasa asks quietly, dropping hir guard and straightening up hirself. "You seem, I don't know, really kind of upset about this." The words have completely faded from hir skin at this point and ze is examining his fighting stance. "I mean, slow stuff, so I can see how you're doing things? I am probably not the best, as I'm kind of new at a lot of this too, but, I can try." "M-maybe. I... um. Maybe yeah," Peter says, and then he reaches - hesitantly! - to start tugging at his mask. Tug, tug. Underneath, there is a /Peter/. Except, hm. Did Peter always have a mole? Right there, up and to the right of his mouth - besides his nose. It's not /brown/, though; it's a dark, shiny black - almost... metallic. His skin is flustered. "...I just, y'know, I want to learn it /fast/ because..." His eyes flick to the ground. "...because I think I'm gonna need it, soon. But, I don't want to /hurt/ anyone. I should probably do it with Logan, but he's, um, kind of - intimidating sometimes." "He has knives that come out of his knuckles. Even if he were a tiny girl, that's intimidating." Rasa agrees. "But I got to know him over a smoke, so we're good." The Metamorph studies Peter's face for a minute and considers, 'are you okay,' scrawling across hir cheeks and the bridge of hir nose as ze steps closer. "Why do you think you'll need it, Peter?" Beneath the intentful studying, Peter blushes /more/. He doesn't quite hop back, but it's hard not to read the desire to do so from his posture. He is a nervous little thing, sometimes. "B-because, um." Peter reaches up and taps the mole. Meekly. "...I think it's gonna eat my face." "Would you feel better if I had one too?" Rasa asks, likely unhelpfully. "Like I told Ivan, fighting people isn't always the best solution to being called out as a physical mutant, but yeah, we have to take care of ourselves." Ze moves to stand beside Peter, facing the same direction as him and adopting an easy fighting pose. Legs a little bent for easy springyness, one hand (right) held by hir face, almost near hir jaw. The other directly in front of hir. "Like this, okay?" "I... I dunno. I mean - no, I don't think so. I think - I'm okay with it around you because..." Because you've got a whole FACE full of weird. That's what you want to end that sentence with, isn't it, Peter? "...just, though, um, I dunno I mean I used to get beat up over having /acne/, and now... I don't want to /fight/ people but I keep thinking - people might want to try and fight /me/ and maybe... maybe I should know how not to - hurt them." And then he's paying /close/ attention to what Rasa is doing - and then he's replicating it. With surprising deftness - if there's one thing Peter can do, it's figure out how to move his body. In an instant, he's wearing Rasa's posture like a well-fitting coat - even as he occasionally glances at hir several times to make sure he's got it right - curling his fingers to mimick hir own. "Palms toward your face, okay?" Rasa makes a teeny tiny correction and then continues. "The fastest move you should have is this --- but we're going to do it slow --- you move your left hand straight out toward your target, twisting your palm down to face the floor as you go. When you've mostly --- don't lock your elbow --- extended your arm, you bring it back rapidly back to where you started." Ze demonstrates slowly the motion. "That's what you do with your arms. It's called a jab. It's short, it's quick, it's /not/ powerful, but it can disorient or confuse an attacker. It's in, it's out and they can't stop it and they can't see it coming, even at my speed. Try it slow." Peter does just that. Repeating the motion, slowly - watching Rasa as zhi does it. Jaaaaab. His hand out; palm twisting; then, just as he reaches the full extension of his arm - he /does/ lock his elbow, feeling that peculiar 'snap' - but he immediately flushes and jerks his hand back, doing it /again/. This time, stopping just /short/ of that peculiar snap. Then, repeating it - with the other hand. /Very/ slowly. "Jab," Peter repeats, and then: "Like... where /would/ I jab them? In the stomach?" "Jabs are usually face shots, as for most of us, they are weak, so you want to get the most bang for your buck. A jab to the chin or the nose will really mess with their ability to stay focused on what they want to do." Rasa considers. "We train for face shots, but in the heat of someone trying to hurt you, anywhere will do, especially if they are much taller than you." Ze pauses. "Do you know why you don't lock your arm?" "Because... you should only lock things up when you're done using them?" Peter asks, perhaps /unhelpfully/, and with a hesitant little smile; he quickly tacks on - still practicing the gesture, a little faster, now: "Um, /probably/ because - it might hurt your elbow? After a while? It feels kind of snappy, but actually I don't know..." JAB. JAB. JAB. A little faster, now. Hands like /snakes/. Ssss. COBRA KAI. "Well, think of it from a physics standpoint. When your arm is locked, all of the bones are lined up and it's basically a solid cylinder, right?" Rasa extends hir arm to demonstrate. "You can hold a lot of weight that way, if you were, say, standing on your hands. However, when you're throwing a punch, you're transferring energy down a static solid line. If you hit something hard enough - something that doesn't give way or absorb the energy you're delivering, it stays in your arm. That'll mess up your shoulder, your elbow, your arm, your whole stance. Something has to break" Then, she bends hir elbow. "If the elbow has a little bend in it, instead of breaking something, you reabsorb the energy in that joint to protect yourself." There's a pause. "Does that make sense?" "Oh, jeez, /duh/ yeah it's basically a collapse point - like, in cars and stuff, they point these - weak points - so instead of like transferring all the force into /one/ place, it collapses and - yeah it makes total sense," Peter adds, and now his jabs have a bit more /energy/ to them - hup, hup, hup - well, so much for a /spar/, this turned into a bit more of a 'teach-Peter-how-to-punch' session, but he's certainly /learning/...! "Okay," he says, and then: "Once I get this all figured out - I can, um. I can spar you for realsies," he says. "Sure thing. There are three more strikes to go, okay?" And then Rasa explains and demonstrates and coaches Peter into how to do allll of those things, And then they spar!