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Post by hook on Feb 15, 2010 2:09:46 GMT -5
God, this was SUCH a great way to spend the after school hours ( when not getting high, that is). Honestly, who WOULDN'T want to spend their time attacking an opponent with a thin splinter of metal? It was just such a thrill to be able to attack another person with a potentially dangerous weapon and have it be a condoned school sponsored activity. Plus it had the added bonus of making Drake feel powerful. Even though his hand was...fucked up, he still could knock the shit out of anyone he went up against.
Because in this sport, there was no other person at the school that stood a chance against Drake Sterling.
As he suited up, Drake hardly gave his crippled hand any thought. That was usually the way it happened during his fencing classes. He hardly remembered the fact that his hand was broken when the other one was wielding a weapon against someone.
Wearing the customary white jumpsuit and the masked helmet, Drake stepped into the gym, which had been outfitted with a plethora of blue mats for people to be cushioned when they got knocked down. ( not that they helped much to soften the blow, as Drake was only too happy to point out to people)
He smiled, looking around for his sparring partner for the day.
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Post by kate on Feb 15, 2010 2:35:48 GMT -5
One. Two. Dodge. Parry. Strike. One. Two.
"Excellent, Cory!" The instructor applauded, walking over to where Cory stood practicing against a dummy, foil in hand. Cory took his helmet off and grinned in return, wiping the sweat from his brow. He breathed deeply, catching his breath; he'd been here a while. "Thanks," he said, if only out of habit than of manners. "Were you... Cory, you were using your left hand?" "Yeah," Cory breathed, weighing the sword in his non-dominant arm. "Figured I should train both ways. Gimme an advantage in the next tournament." He spun it idly in his finger while the instructor cried "Excellent! Excellent!" as he walked away.
Cory's smile widened into a cocky grin. He shook out his left arm as he walked to the bench, set his helmet down beside him and took a swig from his water bottle. His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat, but he didn't feel tired. It was invigorating, actually, and probably good for Cory to release some pent up energy from the school day. A couple more fencing team members walked by him, smiling a little, and Cory waved idly. Yeah.
He knew he was good.
Cory screwed the cap on his water bottle and was about to stand up to practice some more, when in walked another fencing team member. Cory couldn't tell who it was beneath the mask, but that was okay. He wanted to play a game, anyway.
Donning his own mask and picking up his foil, Cory jogged over to where the masked fencer was. Silently, he tapped him on the shoulder to get him to turn around, and saluted him with his sword as if to ask if he wanted a bout. The anonymity of the situation was actually kind of thrilling.
Standing with his foil at the ready, Cory waited for the other to make the first move.
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Post by hook on Feb 15, 2010 13:30:53 GMT -5
God, what was it with these retards, they couldn't take a little beating? So far everyone had just gone out of their way to skirt around his mat. God, these spineless idiots really needed to work up some courage and just spar with him already. This was just stupid.
Finally Drake felt someone ap him on the back. he turned and merely saw another masked fencer standing there, giving some retarded form of salutation. Whatever. If he wanted to have a go then that was his problem and his weird little quirks.
As they stood there, Drake analysed the situation. The guy didn't seem like that big of a deal, just someone he could take down pretty quickly. He had a feeling that this would be over pretty quickly and he would be back where he had started, looking for another sparring partner to knock down in record time.
He supposed it would be better if he took it slowly, didn't move as fast as he could, dragged out the sparring match so that he could relish the moment. Like getting high, it wasn't fun unless you could hold onto the feeling for an extended feeling of time.
He sharply whacked the other guy's foil twice, testing the waters.
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Post by kate on Feb 15, 2010 21:40:15 GMT -5
Oh hey, he took the bait!
Cory smiled for only a second behind his mask as the other figure turned towards him, seemingly sizing him up. Pft, well, his loss, Cory thought as the smile fell from his lips, replaced with a look of concentration. Cory knew he didn't look like much of a threat on the outside: thin and wiry, he looked like he was a pushover, really. Maybe this other guy would learn a thing or two when he got his ass handed to him by Mr. Thin and Wiry.
He took the proper fencing stance, his blue eyes quickly scanning his opponent, but Cory was careful not to come to any conclusions, as it could be his downfall. The other guy was tall, and built strong, but hey, so was every other wannabe champion here. Oh, but wait, who was NYC Junior Fencing Champion? Cory?
Well then.
No bruises on this ego here, my friend. Finally, the other fencer took position, and Cory waited. Was this guy going to be any good?
He sharply whacked the other guy's foil twice, testing the waters.
Cory immediately parried on instinct, batting away the other's foil and lunging a step or two forward. His actions were quick and light, his footsteps silent and his movements fluid. It was like he was born for swordplay. Cory made another swipe at his opponent, his right arm in the air for balance, while his left hand, his non-dominant hand, held the blade.
This would be good practice, if nothing else. But Cory wanted a good fight out of this guy. Goading him, Cory took another fleeting step in the other guy's direction, forcing him backwards. Come on... Cory thought, his lips twitching in playful anticipation. I want a challenge...
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Post by hook on Feb 16, 2010 2:58:01 GMT -5
Drake was...excitedley surprised when the guy actually fought back. This was going to be good, not just another one of those matches where he knocked the other guy down in a flash. It would definitely make a perfect ending to a pretty good semester already.
Drake took a step backwards as the guy shot forward, not willing to give this up so quickly. he had to hand it to him, this kid was good. Certainly not as good as Drake, but he was impressive all the same.
Drake relished the sound of the two foils clanging into each other as he fought back, still in a very contained, analytical way, not ready to finish this up yet. He wanted, NEEDED to let this continue, to let him vent all his pent up energy and tenseness.
He was determined to win, though. That was the key point of every movement, it was designed to win. As he advanced, back on the offensive, he made every stab of the foil for the singular purpose of getting to the opponent, messing him up, getting to his body.
In just a few minutes this kid would be going down.
Hard.
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Post by kate on Feb 16, 2010 3:14:23 GMT -5
This guy knew his stuff! Cory was taken back a couple steps as the other guy lunged at him, intended to sink the rounded tip of his foil into Cory's vest. But he wasn't about to let that happen. No sword touched him if he could help it, and Cory could definitely help it.
Batting away the other guy's sword with deft movements, Cory picked up the pace. Soon the two of them were fighting full tilt, and Cory wanted desperately to switch to his right hand. But that would be cheating himself of the pleasure of fighting so intensely without the benefit of his dominant arm. This was so much more exciting this way.
The swords flashed quickly, connecting and disconnecting with each parry and lunge from his opponent, each offense and defense from Cory. It was growing pretty intense; soon there was a ring of spectators around them, watching and cheering for Cory and whoever he was fighting. The instructor tried to turn it into a lesson on how fencing should really look, with them as an example. And Cory couldn't lie, it was amazing. It was fun to actually have someone up to his par to spar with. Up until then, opponents had been easy to beat, and Cory was left wanting to crow laughing in victory.
This guy was different.
Cory was actually working to win this. Sweat beaded on his brow, and the collared vest under his helmet was getting annoying. Still their swords clashed with a violent speed, first Cory taking the offensive, then the other guy. Back and forth it went for a while, quickly, seamlessly, like it was choreographed.
A droplet of seat ran into Cory's eyes and he faltered for a second, blinking back the salt of it. In a snap decision he tore off his helmet (much to the dismayed cried of the instructor), and grinned at his opponent. His red hair was sticking up all over the place and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He looked for all the world like he was five years old.
"Come on!" Cory cheered with the crowd that had screamed its approval at Cory's helmet-doffing. "Fair fight! Show me your face!"
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Post by hook on Feb 16, 2010 3:28:27 GMT -5
Wow, what a rush. Drake felt like he finally undeerstood those retarded videos they had made him watch back in mystic, about the whole " natural high" and not needing drugs to get this feeling he was drunk on right now. Of course, that was total bullshit, but this was definitely the first time Drake had ever felt high without actually BEING high...did that even make sense? Whatever.
Drake's hand was p[ractically moving independent of his thoughts, just trying tof find ever single weak point on the boy and stop his own assaults at the same time. It was crazy, but it was like he was meant to do this. Not for like, a job or anything, but it just felt RIGHT fighting this kid, like he was the only other person in the world that could honestly give Drake a run for his money. Drake didn't know how he really felt about the prospect of losing, but loved the thrill of the fight for championship.
Drake didn't quite know what to do when the other guy decided to take off his mask mid spar. What was that about? You didn't just take off part of your protection mid-bout! Whatever, it didn't matter, Drake could still take him, it wasn't like that actually DID anything.
"Fair fight! Show me your face!"
Drake practically growled at the stupidity of it. He just wanted to get back to the bout! But if this was what it took, then so be it. Drake pulled the helmet off his head and shook his hair out in ruffles. He looked around, just noticing the crowd now. Woah. He was kind of scared that he had been so far in his head that he hadn't even SEEN a crowd of cheering spectators.
" Drake Sterling, nice to meet you. Now can we PLEASE get back to it or do we need to continue our strip tease?"
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Post by kate on Feb 16, 2010 13:49:08 GMT -5
Cory laughed at Drake's aggravated reply. "Cory Henderson. And sorry, somehow I always found masks to be... unfair. I dunno. Anyway." He tossed his helmet off to the side, returned to his striking stance, and they began once more.
The fighting grew intense again, the both of them concentrating on not just landing a hit, but embarrassing the other. Now that the masks were off and names were given, their reputations were at stake. Cory didn't notice it when it happened, but at the revelation of Drake vs. Cory, the crowd had grown very quiet. The two top fencers, in an all out brawl? Now there was always the possibility of actually hurting the other, as Epee fencing could land a hit on the head, and in this case, that could do some damage. Like permanent eye damage, as the instructor pointed out to the two of them. His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as Cory and Drake continued to battle for blood.
He couldn't explain why he wanted to win so badly all of a sudden. I mean, Cory always wanted to win, he was hardwired that way. But there was something about this fight that Cory knew he had to win, knew he would win. The crowd parted to let them through as their swords flashed faster, and Cory was forced backwards through the wall of people as Drake pressed forward. Cory turned and bolted for a better vantage point, stepping quickly on the second row of the extended bleachers in the gym. In the few seconds he had to reevaluate his opponent, Cory finally noticed something.
What was wrong with Drake's other hand?
Cory acted on impulse. He lunged, swatting Drake's motionless hand experimentally with his sword. The gloves protected him, of course, but maybe it would get Drake to do something. Reveal some hidden weak spot, perhaps? But Cory didn't think this through... He over stepped and fell tumbling to the ground, landing awkwardly spread-eagle at Drake's feet. His foil skittered across the floor and Cory glanced at it helplessly.
Why did this feel so familiar?
And why did he feel like suddenly their friendly bout's dynamics were about to shift?
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Post by hook on Feb 20, 2010 22:51:33 GMT -5
Drakes hand started to tingle. Not the one he was currently using to wield the foil, but his left. What the hell was up with that? It's a dead little piece of skin for every other day of the year but right now, when he wants thrash this little junior kid it starts to act up? God, what the fuck was wrong with that thing?
Whatever, it hardly mattered. Drake had the kid on the run now, back up into the crowd to get away from the ferocious slashes that Drake was making, bordering on the hacking motions the teacher always warned against. Screw it. Playtime was over. Drake wanted this kid dead finished now. He wouldn't be playing around anymore.
Drake was painfully aware of the fact that the enemy foil had just sharply made contact with his left hand. God, that thing just seemed to be having the worst luck today. First the weirdass tingling and now getting hit? Screw it. he was NOT risking having that hand get anymore fucked up than it already was. He would finish it now and then check in at the nurse. Hell, maybe she would give him some more medical marijuana for it.
With a smile he watched as the freak went down. Hard. His foil went skittering across the floor, far out of reach. This was waaay over.
" Well. That was fun. You were definitely better than these other freaks around, but I'll be seein' you around, loser. I have a hand to go get medication for." He took off the glove of his left hand, revealing the permanently cupped appendage. It wasn't hurting too badly anymore, stopping at about the same time as the fight, but Drake figured if he could squeeze some extra marijuana out of the nurse, why waste the opportunity?He smirked as he walked away, towards the fallen foil and the doors. On an impulse he looked back at the kid and kicked the foil to him, feeling generous. He HAD put up a good fight after all. He had given Drake something to enjoy.
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Post by kate on Feb 28, 2010 17:57:09 GMT -5
Cory craned his neck to watch Drake's reaction, which was admittedly pretty boring. He smirked, said something about his hand and then took off his glove to... Eeew, what was wrong with his hand? Cory grimaced, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look. Drake's hand looked lifeless and warped, like it had never healed right and oh, I dunno, been run over by about a hundred trucks. It was a bit revolting, the way his fingers were curled permanently. But Drake merely examined his hand, kicked Cory's foil back to him, and muttered some smart-alecky comment before walking away.
Well, this bit of information was definitely to be used to Cory's advantage. He didn't really care for fair fights despite his previous helmet-doffing comment, and he made a mental note to exploit this fact later. He never said he'd fight honestly, and he'd really never learned otherwise. But Cory was not to be beaten, especially by some crippled upperclassman. So in one movement, more fluid than water, Cory sprang for Drake, scooped up his foil in his right hand, and darted a few paces ahead of him.
With an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, and his chest rising and falling from breathing so hard, Cory pointed his foil directly in Drake's face. He wasn't about to be beaten, not Junior National Fencing Champion. Not Cory Henderson. He stood so that his body faced away from Drake, making him a smaller target. But his spine was straight and there was an intensity in his eyes that traveled to the thin lips of his mouth, and his furrowed brow. His foil pointed unwaveringly, every muscle in his body poised to strike.
"You never landed a hit," Cory said, his voice serious and almost comically concentrated. "We're not done until one of us lands a hit. Now. En garde."
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