circle7 | let's see you get yourself out of this one

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let's see you get yourself out of this one

There were certain things to be said about the advance of technology. Viana keyed a few specifications into the holographic touch screen and watched as the room past the glass window began to rearrange and shift itself. Platforms came out of and withdrew into walls. Stairs and surfaces grew out of the ground, obstacles grew in from the ceiling, and block by block, a randomly-generated city took shape in the training room.

The gears that powered the entire ever-changing structure rumbled underneath her feet as the massive pieces of the puzzle were jumbled about, but it was a familiar and almost welcoming feeling by now. She shifted her weight back and forth from the heel of her feet to the toes, stretching the tendons and the muscles. It would take a few minutes to assemble, but she had the time.

Still undergoing repairs and intelligence-gathering, the First Circle was largely in stasis. No new missions had been dealt out for days, and that was no good for restless people like Viana, who lived to move. She got antsy when she stayed in one place for so long. Her wanderlust always got the better of her. She had no idea how her brother could handle it - Evan spent a large portion of their rare days off curled up with some book or another, fingers drumming an inaudible tune in his head, always a few beats short, as he read.

Viana reached her arms high over her head, locking her fingers together and reaching towards the sky. That was the best thing about moving like this - sometimes, you could close your eyes and imagine you were flying, for that one split second in an arch where gravity had yet to get the better of you, that one instant before vertigo kicked in, that weightlessness, that weight. She jumped a little where she stood, impatient as always. "C'mon, c'mon, hurry up."

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"Oh," Bentley said, brow dipping, voice incredulous. "Evan. How many names does he have?"

She looked confused for a moment, and then, "Oh." A laugh, quick and sharp, like its owner. "That isn't a name. It's like calling you 'Doctor', doc. It's a title."

She backed up slowly, as if counting the distance in the number of steps she took (though she measured things by feel, and not formulas), until she was standing next to Bentley. "How much do you weigh?"

"Oh. Right. I knew that," he said, not knowing that.

He watched carefully at every step Viana took, wondering what she was measuring in that bright violet head of hers. "One-sixty-something," he answered, blinking down at her feet before glancing back up.

She blinked up at him. "Fat."

Epitome of politeness, this one.

While it wasn't that heavy for a full-grown man, and especially not for one of Bentley's...particular build (metal arm included), she probably would've said it regardless of what number he gave.

Edited 2010-08-19 22:53 (UTC)

"Tch. Such manners you were raised with," he grumbled, straightening his dark blue vest indignantly. "Men have more musculature, you know."

"Oh," she said, already beginning to bounce on her feet, like she was gearing up for something. "Is that what you call that little tummy of yours?"

"T-tummy?" he repeated and lifted the vest he just straightened. There's no tummy to be seen - at least, not a rounded one like he expected to flop out of hiding that Viana apparently saw and not him. He frowned when nothing did. (Not that he wanted to be wrong.) "You're seeing things. Are you gonna show me this... free running stuff, or not?"

Before he even finished the last word, she was off. It was almost lightning-quick. One second, she was beside Bentley, and the next, she was already running, sprinting down the expanse of the roof and leaping into the alley, arms reaching over her head, always for something higher, something more. There was a 'clang' as she grabbed onto a nearby water drainage pipe, climbing it up to grab onto the rooftop gutters, and pulling herself onto the next building.

There was a fence separating that roof in half, and like a cat, she scrambled up a small metal canister, giving her the height she needed to jump over that fence in a smooth arc. As she landed, Viana cushioned the fall by tumbling directly into a small roll, rather than forcing all the impact into her feet, and almost immediately sprung up after, from one movement to another - like water, like wind. It was surprisingly fluid, for a person who seemed to prefer blunt confrontations when it came to people.

In a similar fashion, she maneuvered herself to the next building, sliding across a thick wire that connected the two and pulling herself up at the end. There, she finally stopped, looking back. "What were you saying there, doc?"

Bentley, a good building away now, simply stared. The movements were almost graceful; the last thing he expected of a girl like Viana, but there was no mistaking it. The motions were practiced, skilled, and perfected. Bentley couldn't help feeling impressed for once. It's the first time he has ever felt impressed by her, actually.

He retraced the route in his mind: roof, suddenly mid-air, alley wall, grab the drain, heave yourself up, then... Wait, there was a roll somewhere...

"S-surely you have something easier for a first lesson," he laughed shakily.

"Sure I do," she chirped, obviously smug, bouncing her way over to the edge of her building. "The first step to test your potential," Viana began, intentionally stressing the word that he had corrected her on, "Is to jump." She pointed to where, just past the tips of her shoes, the sharp incline of the building side marked an undoubtedly uncomfortable, if not fatal, fall. "Over this."

"It's like that old, old sci-fi movie, back in the day. 'The Netrix,' you remember it? If you've got the balls, you'll soar right over it like me. And if not...well, the program will catch you and the ground'll just pop you right back up like a trampoline. It's real fun."

She actually kept her face serious for a moment, but then that moment passed, and she grinned. "Just kidding."

Oh, well in that case, let Bentley get ready to-

Wait, what- Just kidding?!

Well, it was too late now. At that, Bentley had geared up, getting his running start. Knowing better than to skid to a halt at the edge of a two-story building and let himself trip and fall, he went with it, and jumped.

Thankfully, the momentum (that potential energy waiting to get out) granted him the fortune of making it to the other side, even if it meant a very not graceful slam of his chest into the wall, hands gripping the edge of a window instead. He grunted, the wind knocked out of him, but his hold was firm.

"Y-you should be more careful about what you tell people!" he cried, almost breathless as he started to pull himself up into the window frame. Hey, for an impromptu jump, it wasn't bad, even if he really should've used his feet to brace himself on the impact.

Viana's eyes were as wide as saucers, her body stance tensed as she skidded to a halt. She stared incredulously as Bentley pulled himself up, looking as though she were watching a ghost. For a moment, she had been sure he had just plummeted to his imminent demise, and her first instinct had been to run back, bracing herself to see a splattered body on the ground. Instead, she had seen his mophead appear from over the edge of the building, before the rest of him followed (all in one piece). Her mouth hung open. She looked horrified.

And then. Considering its recent impromptu introduction to the wall, that blow to Bentley's chest probably wasn't pleasant in the least, considering there was a lot of force put into it, for such a small, tiny fist. The kick she threw at his lower abdomen probably didn't help either, and if anything, it actually pushed him back toward the ledge, as if trying to complete the job. "You idiot! What were you thinking? Estas loco, idiota!"

"Ngh - could you at least wait... until I've recovered? Really," he scoffed, wincing at the kick, stepping a good distance away from the roof's edge as he rubbed his chest. "I never said it was my first time leaping buildings, I'll have you know. Even if I'm no professional. Nor is that the first time I've been called crazy. Or an idiot."

Like Viana, Bentley dusted himself off by reflex, glancing over the edge of the building. Yep, that definitely would've done some damage. (Viana seemed to be making up for that quite well, though.)

Viana waited until Bentley turned around to sock him one square in the middle of his face, smashing the nose in. "Don't be stupid. Overreaching past what you can't do will just get you killed. For a doctor, you sure are dumb. Don't pretend to be an expert at something you're not even good at. Stick to your office!"

He must have expected after the first two hits, because he turns his face at the last second. The knuckles still skimmed his cheek, though, and it must be another reflex that made him give a shove to Viana's shoulder. He rubbed his cheek with his other, real hand.

"And you shouldn't make things up about obstacle courses that could get people killed!" he accused. "I never said I was an expert, anyway! You're just a lousy teacher!"

Stumbling back, Viana was skilled enough on her feet to catch herself before she could fall from the unexpectedness. For a second, she gaped at him, incredulously sputtering. Then, her fists clenched, the blood rising to her face furiously, and she lashed out, in a flurry of offensive punches and kicks, using her elbows and knees rather than her feet and fists (the joints, capable of so much more power, consequently dealt more force upon impact). Between hits, she managed to shout out, "So you decide to jump to your death and it's my fault? No one told you to follow! I told you to scram already! Get out! Get out!"

Bentley was by no means as fast as her, but he had a strange knack for dodging and blocking. His metal arm took a good amount of blows, an almost hollow clank resounding in the chamber each time it was hit. It must not be a comfortable punching bag. With the way she was screaming, it almost sounded as though something terrible had happened, but really...

"Yeah, for me being okay, you sure sound upset, you know! I'm beginning to think you - oof - wanted me to fall!" His boots skidded as he braced himself against the blows. If Bentley was a fighter at all, he seemed to be the kind focused on defense - he didn't make any effort to hit back.

Then, how about an unexpected sort of attack?

Viana withdrew, and threw her fist out at Bentley's face. Rather than punch, though, the hand stopped where it hit Bentley's expected block, and instead of hitting it, she wrapped her fingers around the wrist, pulling it to the side. Two fingers came up from her other hand and jabbed right at Bentley's eyes. Yeah. That's right, Viana. Paragon of maturity. That wasn't a standard-procedure hit, now was it? The difference between learning to fight in an organization and learning to fight in the streets was that there was absolutely no hesitation when it came to dirty tactics.

As a result, the doctor certainly gave out a yelp. Despite the words that wanted to escape him (curse words were a Bentley taboo, though), he kept silent, bearing through it, squinting up at her. He might be a clueless man, but he knows something about the rules of hitting girls, and how you're not supposed to, and how that rule was completely outdated when your life happened to be in danger - especially when you feel your foot fall off the edge for a second. That's pretty terrifying when your vision is blurred as it is.

"A-all right, you can stop now! Really! I'll go! Just," he paused, looking behind him, the tip of his boot barely on the platform. "Stop."

Viana stared for a few seconds, the line of her mouth quivering in anger.

And then she pushed him.

(There was a dumpster against the side of the building, right under where he was standing, but it was impossible to see at this height, and difficult to notice especially when jumping, considering usually, one's attention was focused on other things in mid-flight (like getting your hands on something solid). Rather than actual trash, though, the program had simply built an elastic mass to fill the inside of the container, and surprisingly enough, this did act just like a trampoline upon impact.)

It must've been a funny display, right before he fell, flailing for balance before his sole slipped on the faux-concrete with a mocking screech.

It may be elastic that breaks his fall, but that doesn't make it painless. Nope, he bounces right out, onto the hard floor, face-down. That made three too many blows to the chest that Bentley was comfortable with. Exhausted, he decided not to move from this spot, just letting out a low groan as he ran a hand over his face. So much for that, he thought, wondering how he ever thought this was a good idea.

"Are you dead?" she called out from above. Admittedly, there wasn't really much concern in it, probably because she knew it was impossible to die from a faceplant.

"Yes," he lied. Getting to his feet, Bentley winced with a sigh, looking for the exit. It seemed much farther when you were injured, but it wasn't actually a long walk. Climbing all those stairs was certainly going to be fun task, too.

A few thumps sounded behind him, and the next thing he knew, Viana fell into step with the doctor, giving him a short inspection by means of an impassive glance (trying too hard to be nonchalant, judging from the exaggerated tilt of her nose into the air). She had taken the fall herself, better prepared in that she hadn't been knocked into it, and well-accustomed to landings enough to come out of it without a scratch. Hands folded in front of her, the first few steps were silent, punctuated only with the occasional sniff, 'hmph', and 'You deserved it.'

Then, as if losing patience all of a sudden (patience with what was hard to say, considering Bentley hadn't done a thing but agree to leave), she threw a hand up in exasperation. She used the other hand to yank on the man's nearest wrist (not to open him up for a hit this time), tugging him toward her. Like a weasel, she wedged herself underneath the arm, propping him up as a sturdy, if not talkative, crutch. She supposed (in some deep, dark part of her conscience) that maybe she had to take some responsibility, if only to get the man out of her hair faster so she could get some proper training in.

"You're limping too slow."

Color Bentley surprised. He didn't quite forgive Viana enough to thank her for it yet - in fact, it was met with resistance, until he realized she's not in fact about to flip him over her head onto his back and beat him up more.

He doesn't complain, though. The doctor is oddly quiet instead, perhaps embarrassed that the very person who used him as a means of releasing anger was suddenly helping him. (Or too busy trying to figure out why she bothered. Maybe she fell and hit her head somewhere.) In fact, he decided to ask if she did.

let's see you get yourself out of this one

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