[open] Testing and Documentation

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Date & Time: Most anytime post-Roman mission
Location: Gym
Characters: Osprey and anyone who cares to join
Summary: Osprey is feeling out his body/weapon's newly increased limits
Warnings: Possible martial-arts violence

Osprey was unhappy with the Initiative, which was nothing new. He had been willing to offer them the benefit of the doubt up to a point, but that point had passed on the ground outside the Assyrian village, where he and the other transports had been left to their own devices in the fight against the Romans, without intelligence, direction, or support.

Right now, though, his annoyance was more focused. He'd taken his sleeve, his already massively-upgraded body, as his weapon, and as promised, its capabilities had indeed increased. However, exactly how it had improved hadn't been documented, which was irksome.

So now, he ran through practice exercises, speed katas, and anything else he could think of to try and figure out exactly what had improved, and how much. A weapon you didn't know was a weapon in the hands of your enemy, to borrow a line from one of his more philosophical instructors, and he was not about to let his body be that kind of weapon. 

Comments

[theguideless]

"Yes, s–" sir. No. He stopped it, swallowing the rest and nodding a little. He shifted out of his at-attention posture, spacing his feet out little by little, already rubbing at his wrist. Fast. He wanted to react fast...

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Satisfied with his choice of weapons, Osprey walks out to the middle of the floor. He bows to Martin, then brings his sticks up at the ready. "Whenever you're ready. Who do you want to take the first attack?"

[theguideless]

"Uh," Martin squeezed his wrist once more before letting it go, shaking it out. "Y-you can. I mean, if you want. That's alright." He nodded. "I'm ready."

[checksum]

"Then we begin!" Osprey announces, and closes the distance between him and Martin in a moment on neurachem-accelerated feet.

He keeps his attack to more human speeds, at least to begin with, opening with a feint toward the head followed by a jab for the ribs.

[theguideless]

Just a little scuffle of a heel at first, but Martin startled himself to react before getting more than a little grazing. Neither head nor ribs, though, felt it – rather his ankle as he was launched high, high up by the force of the lance-out-of-nowhere, aimed down. The looming weight of space the roof caused gave him reason to flail, trying to snatch at...at something, but having no eyes to see it. Below, the lance was just dust falling at Osprey's feet.

As he fell, Martin swung his feet forward, crossing his arms in front of his face. He'd rather keep his nose unbroken than aim proper, despite all the advice otherwise he'd had before. Still, he wasn't too far off if he were hitting, say, something stationary.

[checksum]

Now that was a trick Osprey hadn't been expecting. He quickly moves back out of reach from where Martin's likely to land, his sticks held defensively, watching to see what the kid does when he hits the ground.

[theguideless]

Martin was somehow relieved by the defense he was falling toward; he really wasn't prepared to actually land on the guy squarely! Instead, he guided one hand with the other, uncurling his fingers. The palm opened up with only a second or two of rest before the next lance was rocketing out and down toward the ground. He quickly grabbed on to the end as it appeared, riding it down as it started to fall like some downed tree, with Osprey in its path.