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Sparring Practice (IC)


Griffalo

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"Since last summer," Erin told him, setting the weight stack to what seemed like a reasonable beginner level to see how he handled it. Sometimes she had a hard time judging what normal people could lift anymore. "And I don't care if you ask questions, so long as you don't mind if I don't answer them. I like racing games mostly, and mystery novels." She checked the instructions on the machine, then adjusted the backrest a little bit to sit him up straighter. "How about you, what do you do for fun?" It seemed polite to ask.

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He sits back on the adjusted chair, then seems to nod in satisfaction.

"That's better. No, I don't mind at all. Everyone's entitled to a private life, aren't they?" He nods. "Me, I prefer... I've always called 'em 'fighting games' which I always thought sounded like baby talk. But stuff like Street Fighter, Tekken, stuff like that. I like roleplaying games too, though."

He laughs, mainly to himself. "I bet regular people would get a kick out of that, picturing glamorous super-heroes pretending to be other people."

"But apart from that, I like to read. You end up getting called weird, but I like spending time by myself sometimes. Helps me think, you know? Also... I think I might like to give drama a try. Is there anything like a Drama Club here?"

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"I understand wanting time to yourself," Erin agreed, standing and watching while Evander used the new machine. "There's not really a drama club here, I don't think, but there are school plays every so often. My friend Mike likes to do stuff with them. And superheroing's not really that glamorous," she added with a chuckle."It mostly means lots of late nights and missed dates, and never having enough time to finish your homework. But it's cool, being able to help people in ways nobody else can. And, you know, having powers and all that is cool too."

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He looks slightly crestfallen at the mention of there not being a drama club, but he shrugs nonetheless.

"I guess with it being such a relatively small school, it's not really feasible to have all the clubs you'd find at a normal high school."

"I figure it's not really glamorour, and that it's got its highs and lows just like anything else... but that's the public perception, isn't it?" He smiles. "We're kind of like celebrities, because people wonder what our lives are like, what it'd be like to be us. I guess they'd be pretty disappointed if they saw the reality."

After completing a rep on the machine, he seems to muse over something.

"I wonder if anyone's thought of doing, like, a supernatural reality show? Something like 'Freedom Shore'! That'd be hilarious to watch."

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"The Freedom League would probably stop them," Erin decided with a short laugh. "They're sort of responsible for keeping up the good PR for heroes and all. The producers edit those shows to make everybody look as bad as possible, which is sort of the opposite of what the League would want. I can't imagine what they'd do with a show set someplace like here. There's always so much weird stuff happening anyway, before you start getting cameras involved. You want to be a TV star?" The drama club and reality show thing seemed to indicate so, anyway.

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Evander laughed. "Does this look like the face of a TV star? No, I don't want to be a celebrity. Just... still adjusting I guess, even after all these years. I grew up reading comics, wondering what it would be to be a superhero, and now I am one."

Another shrug - the move was fast becoming his trademark.

"I get that people need heroes to look up to and sometimes they need to be shown in a favourable light. And I agree that nobody needs to see Captain Thunder having one too many beers or Siren having a 'wardrobe malfunction', but... I dunno, I think people need to appreciate that people like you and me are just... people, you know? We've got our faults and we're not perfect."

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"Maybe so, but that's not what reality shows do," Erin pointed out. "I had a chance to watch a whole lot of TV a couple years ago, and those shows are more about finding people who are really messed-up, and then making them look even more messed up because that's more entertaining. I definitely wouldn't want anybody shoving a camera in my face when I was pissed off or upset or just trying to work. Even if they did do a show like that, who in their right mind would go on it?" Moving to the next machine, she started adjusting it for him. "How you doing, getting tired yet?"

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He smirked. "I think you already know the answer to that question - people who really want to be famous at the cost of everything else, even if it's famous for being a dirtbag. Some people are like that, they don't know the difference between good attention and bad, so any attention at all makes them happy."

He got off the machine a little stiffly. "I'm not doing too bad. Feel like I've had a workout, though." He stood up straight, evidently trying not to show his fatigue. "I'm still good to go, though. What's next?"

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"Well yeah, that's how they hook normal people,but if you're a superhero, it's not like it's that hard to be on TV. I mean, I get on TV sometimes. If somebody actually looks good on TV and wants to be on TV, they can be on all day if they want." Erin straightened up, looked him over. "You're probably ready for some cardio," she decided, noting that the muscle-building routine seemed to be wearing. "How do you feel about running?"

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He grins. "Then I guess if you have fun on TV and look good doing it, I'm inclined to agree there. You'll have to lend me some old tapes of you."

"Running?" He laughs. "How does the son of Hermes, the messenger of the Gods and possessor of the fabled Talaria, the winged sandals, feel about running?" He laughs again. "I like it okay, I guess. It's one of those alone-sports, so it's like the 'reading quietly' of athletics."

He looked down at his trainers, the Nike swoosh replaced by an embroidered wing, picked out in black and white stitching.

"Then again, it's not like these give me a huge advantage..."

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Erin looked down at Mercury's shoes consideringly. She hadn't really thought about the whole "messenger of the gods" schtick before, but it made sense that he'd have something going on when it came to speed. "All right then," she decided, adjusting on the fly, "we'll go outside then. That's better for fast running, the outside track is longer and not bordered by walls. Unless you're really fast," she added, "then we can just do a city-run." She led the way towards the outside door, and waited for him to follow.

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He nodded. "Well, I'm actually not that fast with these on. They just give me a slight edge. Dad actually put the equivalent of a speed-limiter on them, in fact. You know, until I learn reponsbility and maturity and all that." He smiled sheepishly.

"The main thing I've got to be careful about is keeping my feet on the ground. They're tricky things, if you don't have your wits about you." He lifted his heels one after the other, just like any runner checking the integrity of his shoes and stretching his legs.

"So, you going to pace me, or we just going to go for it?" He grins, getting slightly more mischievous at the thought of competition.

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Erin chuckled, understanding the thrill of competition. Her own competitive edge had become dulled over the past year, as she refined her skills to near-perfection and let other things begin to atrophy, but she understood the urge. "Let's see what you've got," she told him, with a wave to the oval-shaped outdoor track. "You can always throttle back if I can't keep up." They gray weather and the hour meant they had the track to themselves for the moment. It was a high-quality surface, springy and even, perfect for running.

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He laughs, setting off. Even at a slight jog he was fast when compared to a regular person, and he let her keep pace with him as his speed increased to a full on run. He was topping nearly 40 miles per hour when he was running full out, and was slightly disappointed to look over and see Erin keeping up with him easily. Between deep breaths, he managed to smile.

"Like I said... speed limiters."

He seemed happy enough though; what she'd said was right, this was a damn good track for running on. It felt good to be outside and running, something he knew how to do fairly well without the benefit of divine ichor or magic shoes.

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Erin was jogging to keep up, not at all winded but looking as though she was still enjoying the exercise. "Claremont's a good place to learn control," she told him, "I had to have limiters when I was new here, too. If you work hard, you'll get them taken off eventually." The track was going by almost dizzyingly quickly, at this speed they rounded the four hundred meter oval in less than thirty seconds per lap. "Mister Archer will work you just about to death on anything you need to learn better control of. It sucks, but it works," she admitted ruefully.

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After a few minutes, Evander slowes to a jog, though a jog that was still an appreciably good speed.

"Yeah, I guess. Hard to know when that's going to be, though. When you've got an immortal calling the shots... well, let's just say they can have a bit of a skewed perception of time." A pause, his face slightly more serious. "And it's not a matter of control, he wants to see if I can use it responsibly. I can control my powers well enough. That's not why I'm here." Despite the exertion, there's a slight edge to his voice.

He slows, then stops, resting by placing his hands on his knees. "People insist on treating me like a child. I'm not a baby, I'm sixteen." He shakes his head. "Sorry, Erin. I didn't mean to start ranting. Just ignore me."

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Erin did a few light stretches while Evander caught his breath. "You should enjoy it while you can," she suggested evenly. "Someone who treats you like a child is worried about you, so that means they care. It's not really any picnic being treated like an adult, once you get there. Claremont will give you plenty of opportunities to be responsible with your powers, too, and they'll bust you down hard enough if you don't meet expectations. Maybe your dad is thinking too slow, or maybe you're just in too much of a hurry." She seemed a little bit sad as she spoke, as though she were speaking from experience.

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Evander stands, his hands on his hips, still catching his breath.

"I'm not wrong in thinking you didn't have much of a childhood, huh? Had to do a lot of growing up fast where you came from? You didn't learn to fight like you do from Jiu-jitsu books and sparring dummies, I can tell that for sure."

He pauses, not really expecting an answer from her on such a sensitive topic before he continues.

"I suppose you're right. It's mainly my mom and dad treating me like that. Mom's pretty unashamed about it, but I guess it's nice to know that Dad actually cares." He shrugs, a half smile. "Ironic, isn't it? You spend your childhood envying adults, then most of your adult life wishing you were a kid again."

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"There aren't any easy answers," Erin agreed, choosing to let Evander's unfounded assumptions stand rather than explaining her background to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and it would probably only embarrass him. She certainly didn't feel like discussing it. "They just want you to be safe, and for the people around you to be safe. Same way you have to get a permit and lessons before you learn to drive a car." She looked him over. "You ready for more, or do you want to call it a day?"

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Evander nodded. He could sense the tension that had the possibility of growing between them, and he didn't want to spoil anything.

"I think it's best we call time on it for today. Don't want to strain anything, after all." He gave her a smile. "But thank you for today - for everything."

He ran a hand through his thick hair, mussing it with sweat. "Man, I probably stink now. Not like you, hardly even broken a sweat." He began to walk back towards the main building. "At least I've got something positive to tell Coach Archer next time i see him, that I've trained with you."

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Erin laughed full-out at that, still grinning as she looked over at Evander. "Here's one big pointer for you, don't mention my name around Mr. Archer. He's not exactly president of my fan club, even though I spend more time with him than any other teacher in this place. If you tell him I've been giving you lessons, he's more likely to freak out and send me to detention than to give you a pat on the back for it. You can let your improvement speak for itself."

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He couldn't help but grin in response to the laugh.

"Right, okay. Thanks for the pointer. He seems okay so far, don't really want to taint relationships with any teachers just yet." He turns back to look at her.

"Any other teachers I should watch out for? Or students? Everyone seems really nice so far, but you don't know when you've got a stealth a-hole on your hands."

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"Trust me, things will be a lot smoother for you with Archer if you don't mention my name," Erin told him. "He usually goes easier on kids who don't specialize in physical fighting, anyway." She smiled a little. "Heck, if you suck up to him enough, maybe he can help you get your restrictions lifted. He used to be a speedster, back in the day. He'll probably sympathize with you, if you play your cards right."

Erin headed up the stairs to the gym, keeping pace with Evander as she went. "As for everybody else, well, I think it's probably a lot like regular high school, except smaller," she told him with a shrug. "There are cliques and couples and outsiders, all that stuff. The bullying is pretty subdued because they're strict on that here, but you'll find about everything else. You've just got to watch yourself and try to get along with people. That's sort of like magic, it's not really my area of expertise."

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He nods. "Maybe that's something I can bond with him over. I know Dad has a kind of friendly rivalry thing going with Johnny Rocket, after all." He smiles, picking up the breastplate that he'd left on the floor earlier as he continues.

He pauses just before the entrance to the boys' and girls' locker rooms - this is where they'd go their separate ways.

"It's not your area of expertise? Which part, watching yourself or getting on with people? You seem to be doing fine with the second part, and I have a hard time picturing you not looking out for yourself."

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"You really are new here," Erin commented, not unkindly, with a smile that was more rueful than amused. "It's not really a big deal, some people just have an easier time fitting in at school than others. You probably won't have any trouble. Just make sure to keep practicing, and do the weights and the cardio as often as you can. Every day is best. Once you've got some endurance built up, if you want, I can show you some actual fighting moves."

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