Shadow Stalker – Advent of a Hero
Chapter Eleven: Training Montage
Taylor eyed the bag and threw a punch, and then another one. The training gloves encasing her hands protected her knuckles from the impacts, but the jolt still travelled up her arm. She was getting better; at least now, her punches were beginning to make the bag rock slightly.
This is a lot easier when I use amp.
But she was refusing to use her powers. Not for this. She had to learn to hit hard the old fashioned way, and in the process – she hoped – learn how to moderate her capabilities, hit hard enough to matter when it counted, but not so hard as to accidentally kill someone.
She moved around the bag a little, remembering to stay on the balls of her feet – Harry had patiently explained to her what that actually meant – and threw another punch. The bag rocked a little more.
"Hey."
She looked around, glad of the interruption. She had been at this for nearly an hour now; Harry had her doing bag work, to refine her punching technique. Sweat was running down her face, and she was panting slightly from the exertion.
Harry was standing several paces away. He was a blocky fireplug of a man, far heavier than she was in the shoulders and body, but a few inches shorter in height. He was also old, older than her father, and what hair he had was grey or going that way.
"You're improving," he told her grudgingly. "But you're still dropping your shoulder when you throw a straight right."
And I'm still not hitting worth a damn, I know, she added silently. She simply didn't have the weight to put behind a good punch; at least, not unless she used amp. Which she didn't want to do. It felt too much like cheating.
"Is that a problem?" she asked. She knew it was, or he wouldn't have brought it up; however she didn't know why.
He nodded seriously. "Sure. Drop your shoulder, you leave your jaw wide open. Your opponent tags you there, you're on the mat wondering where all the pretty tweety birds came from."
She wanted to smile at his description, but didn't want to make him think she was just another silly girl. So she nodded back, matching his expression of seriousness. "Right. So I don't drop my shoulder." She paused. "I didn't even realise I was doing it."
"Yeah, not surprised there," Harry grunted. "Bad habits have a way of sneakin' up on a body." He glanced around; the Gym was more or less empty, and the ring was free. "Tell ya what. Get them practice gloves off, I'll fit ya for a real pair, an' we'll spar a bit. Show ya where you're goin' wrong, an' what happens when ya do."
Taylor hesitated. She'd been coming to Harry's Gym for a couple of weeks, and she'd seen him in the ring with some of the regulars. As old and grey-haired as he was, as slow and creaky as he seemed outside the ring, when he put the gloves on, he became a new man. She had seen him throw punches that impacted hard, and rocked his opponents – big, strong men – on their heels. She had no doubt that, amped up, she could take his worst punishment, and hand out a reply in spades, but she didn't want to use her powers to get through this.
Danny got up from where he was sitting against the wall, and approached the pair of them. When Taylor had first told him that she wanted to take boxing training, he had been dubious. But she had brought him in to meet Harry, whom he had recognised as an old associate of his father's. Moreover, there were a few Dockworkers who attended the Gym from time to time, and so Danny's reservations were dispelled. He trusted Harry to train his daughter, but he still liked to turn up with her and keep an eye on her. It had only been a couple of months since the incident with the ABB, and he still felt intensely protective of his daughter.
"What's up?" he asked casually.
Harry glanced around at him. "Girl's still got a few bad habits," he explained. "Figure the best way to get her over 'em is to get her in the ring, tap her a few times when she pulls 'em."
Danny nodded judiciously. "Sounds reasonable. Just don't break anything, okay?"
Harry grinned, showing missing teeth. Not all were due to age. "Sure. Might wanna take her glasses, though."
"Ah," protested Taylor unhappily. "I'm really shortsighted. I won't be able to see a thing."
"If you're wearin' glasses," Harry pointed out, "one good hit'll smash 'em. Or they get knocked off."
"Try these," Danny suggested, pulling a pair of sports goggles from his pocket. "Took a while to find them, but they should be about right."
"Oh wow, Dad, thanks," Taylor enthused, removing her glasses clumsily – the training gloves did not lend themselves to manual dexterity – and pulling the goggles on over her head. She had to pull hair out of the way before she got them fitted over her eyes, but once that was accomplished, she beamed at the two men. "How do they look?"
"Never mind how they look, do they work?" asked Danny.
She nodded. "I can see just fine," she told him. "Thanks, Dad."
"Okay, you can see," grunted Harry. "Now get them gloves off, so I c'n put real ones on you."
As Taylor trotted away, Harry turned to Danny. "You sure you want to encourage this?" he muttered. "Kid's got heart, but she ain't got th' heft or th' weight ta really get into it."
Danny shook his head. "She wants to try, I'll support her."
Harry eyed him for a few moments. "Okay, fine. I'll see how she goes in the ring. Just remember, she asked for this."
By the time he rejoined Taylor, she had the training gloves off. He rummaged through his locker and located the smallest pair of gloves he could find; they were relatively unworn, as most of his regulars had larger hands than that, but they still looked ludicrous on Taylor's hands. He had head protectors, but he didn't intend to hit her hard enough to need them. Not this lesson, anyway.
"They comfortable?" he demanded, drawing the laces up tight. "Not too loose?"
Hesitantly, she shook her head. "No, not loose. They feel weird, though."
"Sure they would," he agreed. "First time you're wearin' 'em. Make a fist."
She held up her hand and tried to clench her fist. The glove bent slightly.
"No, like this," he growled, grabbed the glove, and bent it around.
She tried again, clenching harder, and this time the glove formed a proper shape.
"Good," he told her. "Now go get your dad to come help me glove up. Warm up on the bag till I come get you."
She trotted away again, gloves held up and away from her body. He watched her go, gauging how she moved. Light on her feet, but no heft, no weight to her shoulders. He felt kind of sorry for her; she had enthusiasm, but just wanting to do it wasn't enough sometimes.
By the time Danny had finished fixing his laces the way he liked them, she had worked up a sweat all over again at the hanging bag. It was rocking slightly on the chain, proving that she wasn't slacking on her punches. "Okay," he called out to her. "Into the ring."
She turned from the bag and moved toward the roped-off ring in the middle of the gym. Harry and Danny also moved toward it. "You'll go timekeeper?" Harry asked Danny. "Three rounds, one minute each."
"Sure thing," Danny agreed, sliding back his sleeve to reveal his watch.
Taylor was just climbing into the ring when Harry heard the call from the door.
"Hey, old man. Where's our money?"
"You and Triumph don't get along too well, do you?"
Shadow Stalker glanced up at Aegis as he paced her effortlessly. She paused to catch her breath, and he swooped down to land beside her.
"Not sure that it's any of your business," she told him tartly.
"If it's not, then I apologise," he replied at once. "But that depends on why you dislike him. He's a little pushy, sure. But if you dislike him because he's the team leader, then that means when I become leader, you'll dislike me. And I'd like to nip that in the bud before it becomes a problem."
She drew a deep sigh. "I don't hate the guy," she tried to explain. "But he rubs me the wrong way. He's all about him giving orders and us obeying them. I'm more intuitive than that; if I see something that's off, I want to know why. But he pulls me up when I start questioning things, because he needs a solid reason for not doing what he says."
Aegis blinked. "Wow, okay." He put a hand on her shoulder; she flinched away, and he pulled his hand back immediately. "Oh, sorry. Uh, when I become leader, I want you to know that if you've got a problem with the way I'm doing something, or there's something you're not sure about, just raise it with me, okay? I can see you're a pretty solid operator. You did okay on your own until you joined us. Which is pretty spectacular for an eighteen year old -"
"Seventeen," she corrected. "I turn eighteen at the end of December."
"Right, yeah," he agreed, then tilted his head. "Wow, I thought you were eighteen already."
She grinned slightly behind her mask. "And you turned seventeen back in June. See, I can keep track."
He blushed slightly under his mask. "Well, uh -" He seemed to come to a decision. "Listen, I was just wondering if you'd like to go out on a date or something sometime -"
She blinked. "Uh, what?"
He was blushing harder now. "I think you're kind of -"
"Oh god," she muttered, then took a deep breath. "Uh, Aegis? No. Just … no."
"Oh shit," he muttered, face so red he almost glowed in the dark. "Maybe I should -"
"Yeah, maybe you should," she told him bluntly, then leaped from the rooftop and turned to shadow.
Slowly, he rose into the air and followed her. Well, I got shot down in flames that time, didn't I?
Still wearing the gloves, Harry stumped over toward the trio of gang members who had entered the Gym. More could be seen, waiting outside.
"I got no money for you punks," he growled. "So why don't you fuck the hell off?"
The gang members looked at one another, then at Harry. One of them stepped forward; his jacket bore a crude depiction of a flaming skull. "Now, you don't get it," he told Harry. "I wasn't asking. I was telling."
Harry stepped closer, his gloved hands coming up in what Taylor and Danny recognised as his boxing stance. "An' I'm tellin' you," he growled, "you'll get nothin' outta Harry's Gym, now or ever."
The gang member, tall, young and arrogant, moved his hand slightly; there was a snik, and suddenly he was holding a switchblade. "West Side Demons don't take no for an answer, old man," he replied, waving the gleaming blade back and forth. "You don't do business with us, you don't do business at all."
Frustrated anger ran over Harry's face. He was a good boxer; given a fair fight, he could take this punk and any three of his gang. But they weren't likely to give him a fair fight. He could take a hit, but a blade was something else.
But nor could he bow down to them; quite apart from the wound to his pride, there was the fact that the Gym was just barely scraping by, and any sort of 'protection' money would cause it to sink without trace. He clenched his fists inside the gloves; if he came in fast enough and hard enough -
"Hey!"
Danny and Taylor watched Harry confront the gang members. "This looks like trouble," he murmured.
"I should help -" she began, taking hold of the rope to climb out of the ring again.
He shook his head. "And out yourself as a cape? Not a good idea."
She saw his point; while she didn't fear for her own well-being, Danny would be vulnerable as the father of a known cape, especially one who had defied the gangs.
They saw Harry shape up; he was getting ready to launch an attack. This was not going to go well for him.
Taylor took a deep breath. "Hey!" she called out, across the Gym.
They all turned to face her; she sauntered forward, leaned with her elbows on the corner of the ring nearest to the door.
"What the fuck you want?" the gang leader called back.
"How about this?" she called back. "Your best fighter against Harry's worst. Being me. You win, we cover your payment. I win, you leave. Don't ever come back."
The gang leader snorted. "Yeah, that's gonna happen. You're probably a black belt in kung fu jitsu or something."
"Taylor, no!" shouted Harry. "These guys play for keeps!" He turned to the gang leader. "She's just a kid. Doesn't know what she's talking about."
"What about it, demon-boy?" Taylor called out, ignoring Harry's outburst. "Or is that the West Side Chickens? Can't face a girl in the ring?"
The gang leader took a step forward, his knife coming up, a scowl on his face. "No skinny little bitch calls me chicken and gets away with it."
Taylor flapped her elbows at her sides, and made a realistic clucking noise. "All I can hear is bu-kawk, bu-kawk, bu-kawk, chicken boy."
Harry saw his chance, and took his shot. His gloved fist lashed out, and took the gang member just under the ear. The boy – scarcely more than eighteen, if he was a day – dropped like he'd been shot. The switchblade skittered away across the floor. He kept moving, stepping in to the next one. A fist powered by a brawny arm, tempered by decades of boxing experience, slammed into the solar plexus of the second guy, putting him down and out. The third one jumped back out of the way, and let out a piercing whistle. Immediately, five more gang members crowded into the Gym, as the one remaining on his feet pulled out a switchblade.
Two bore pipes, one had a chain. The rest pulled out switchblades. Harry did not doubt that there were also guns on them, but they weren't pulling them out yet.
"We're gonna fuck you up for that," snapped the guy who had called for reinforcements; he had to be the second in command. "Nobody drops Jojo and Dog like that, and gets away with it."
"Hey!" yelled Taylor. "What about me? Offer's still open! You fight me and win, you get your money!"
All of the Demons turned to look at her.
"Fuck," muttered one of them. "Is it a girl or a boy?"
"Girl," supplied the second in command. "She said so."
"And she's offering us out?"
"Too damn right I am!" snapped Taylor, having caught that last comment. "I've only been learning this boxing thing for two weeks, and I bet I'm still better than any of you pussies. Or West Side Roast Chickens. Whatever you call yourselves."
"Wait a minute," the second in command called back. "Let me get this straight. You fight our best fighter, and if he wins, you pay the money."
She nodded. "Yeah. And if you lose, you leave this place the fuck alone."
Danny would have winced to hear the expletive come from her mouth, but there were more immediate things to worry about.
"And four-eyes there," the second in command noted, pointing at Danny. "He gonna interfere?"
"Fuck no," Taylor told him. "He's just my manager. You get into the ring, we fight, I kick your sorry ass, you never come back."
Come on, she silently urged. Take the bait.
Jojo was still out cold on the floor, while Dog was curled in a foetal ball, taking no interest in the proceedings; the second in command glanced down at them, then across at Harry.
Harry, for his part, was worried for Taylor's sake. She had provided a fine distraction to let him take down two of the Demons, but now it was six to one, and they were armed and aware. He couldn't do that again.
"One of us fights her, you don't pull that shit again, you hear?" snapped the gang spokesman, addressing Harry.
"Fuck it, if you want to get in the ring, I'll fight you," Harry offered. Taylor, if one of these guys gets in the ring with you, you're going to get hurt, and I can't stop it.
"Yeah, no, fuck that," scoffed the gang kid. "Get ready to pay up. Crunch, you figure you can shut that bitch's mouth?"
A large and bulky gang member stepped forward; his West Side Demons jacket was tight over his shoulders. "I can take her," he growled. He moved forward, ignoring Danny, and climbed into the ring; Taylor hung back to give him his room.
Harry moved up to join Danny. "What the hell is she doing?" he muttered.
He was surprised when Danny gave him a tight grin. "Trust me, she knows what she's doing."
Harry looked at the pair in the ring; Taylor, with a single top over a T-shirt, and cargo pants with sneakers, looking positively waif-like against the massively-built Crunch, wearing a jacket that made him look even larger.
"Fuck," he muttered, "I hope she does. Because I sure as hell don't."
Crunch stalked toward Taylor; she danced back out of the way, holding her gloves up defensively. Harry nodded in approval; he had shown her how to cover up, and at least she was doing that right.
"Hey," she called out. "Is this going to go round by round, or just fight until someone can't get up?"
"Fuck this round by round bullshit," snapped the current gang leader. "Fight."
Taylor grinned. "Okay."
As she stepped in to meet Crunch, he reached for her with hands that were almost the size of her gloves. She brushed one aside, but the other seized her shoulder. He tried to drag her toward him, but she was as solid as a rock. With her left hand, she tapped him negligently under the sternum.
The breath whoofed out of him, and he staggered back, letting her go.
"Oh, come on," she called out. "I barely hit you."
Harry's jaw slowly dropped; the punch had been swift and accurate, and had apparently had all the force of a feather duster … but it had evidently struck the much brawnier combatant like a sledge-hammer. What the fuck is going on here?
Taylor eyed her opponent warily. She'd used too much amp, she'd known that from the moment she landed the blow. He was angry, and he was watching her hands. Carefully, she scaled back on the use of her power. She had to use some to win this fight, but not so much that it was obvious she was a cape.
Harry had told her that her main advantage was her footwork; she was light on her feet, and could dance around a heavier opponent. So she kept moving, gloves up, watching Crunch's eyes. He came at her, trying to trap her against the ropes. She heard the shouts and heckling from the assembled gang members, some quite obscene.
Crunch didn't try to grab her again; he'd learned his lesson. Instead, he bunched his fist and threw a punch. She didn't need Harry's involuntary yell of "Keep your guard up!"; her gloves were already up, and she took the punch on them. He swung again, going lower this time. She sneaked in a level of amp, and took it on her forearms.
This fight wasn't over yet; in fact, it had hardly begun. But she was starting to feel confident again. The lessons that Harry had given her were starting to make more sense now, starting to come together. When your opponent did this, you did that, because he was going to try this.
Of course, were she simply what she seemed to be, a novice boxer, her two weeks of training would never have sufficed. But she had two things going for her. One was the fact that she had already been in one knock-down drag-out brawl, with Hookwolf. And the second was the ability to use amp to shore up her weak technique. But the boxing training was really starting to help her, show her how she should be doing it.
She slipped another punch from the now-frustrated Crunch. Before he had a chance to get his own guard up, she shaped up and threw a hard left at his head. She used no amp at all; to her delight, he rocked back as she connected.
The fight had already been going for a good minute and a half; roughly a minute and twenty seconds longer than the gang had expected it to go for. They stood, open-mouthed, as the skinny girl landed another punch on their champion. So far, all she'd done was hit him once and run away, or so they saw it. It wasn't like there was very far she could run in the ring; he should have caught up with her and flattened her by now.
Danny could understand why it was taking so long. She can't make it look too easy. But he was woefully under-educated about the niceties of a boxing match, and so he turned to Harry.
"Is it just me," he asked in an undertone, "or is she running away a lot?"
Harry's tone was cautiously pleased as he replied. "She's playing it smart. Wearing him down. But where she's getting it from, I have no idea."
Trust me, thought Danny, you really do have no idea.
And then Taylor shaped up once more and fired a straight right into Crunch's chest. And in doing so, she dropped her shoulder.
"No -!" muttered Harry, almost under his breath.
Too late, Taylor recalled Harry's warning, as Crunch saw the opening and took it. His fist exploded against the side of her jaw; only a level of amp saved her from being knocked clean out. As it was, she staggered sideways into the ropes. Stars swam behind her eyes, and her knees buckled.
Dimly she heard Danny shout a warning, and then Crunch was right there, his fist looming. She tried to lurch away from the ropes, but some of the gang members had grabbed her clothes and were holding her in place.
Desperately, she brought up her gloves; he tried to punch right through her guard, but she added another couple of levels of amp, and his fist skidded off to hit her shoulder, and glanced off once more. On sheer instinct, she retaliated with a left that rocked him on his heels, then she slashed her arm downward, breaking the grips that the gang members had on her clothes.
Her head began to clear; she stepped away from the ropes, and moved in on the now wary-looking Crunch. And well he should be wary; she had just weathered his best hit, and had not gone down. As she moved in on him with intent, he backpedalled.
"Come on," she taunted him. "Can't win a fight against a girl on your own? Gotta have your boys hold me down?"
He came for her then, in a rush, trying to overpower her with his superior weight. She skipped to the side and let him have a one-two jab in the ribs; if a little amp slipped in there, then it wasn't something she was worried about. Air whoofed out of him again, and he staggered to the side.
He didn't lack for guts, she had to give him that. As she came in for him, he swung hard at her; she slipped the blow, then gave him one in the solar plexus and one in the chest. And then, for good measure, she planted a straight right on the point of his jaw.
And this time, she didn't drop her shoulder. And nor did she use amp. But he fell anyway, measuring his length on the canvas.
Dead silence fell across Harry's Gym.
"Okay," she announced, facing the West Side Demons. "A deal's a deal. I beat your boy -"
"Taylor!" shouted Harry.
She half-turned, bringing her arm up just in time; Crunch had staggered to his feet, and brought his fist around in an attempt to remove her head from her shoulders. She deflected the blow so that it merely skidded off her head, but her ears still rang from the impact. Spinning like a ballerina, she faced him once more. Touching her glove to her ear, she inspected the result; red blood stained the blue-dyed leather.
"Right," she told him grimly, wiping the glove on her pants leg. "No more Miss Nice Girl."
He swung at her; she deflected it, and jarred him with a left to the chest, a right to the ribs, and then another left to the jaw. He staggered, so she fired another combination into his body. And another. And another. She wasn't using any amp at all this time; she was just firming up her technique, using his body as the punching bag. And while she still didn't have a great deal of power in her arms, he was already quite punished from her earlier blows, and could not take much more.
She saw him rally, and try to come back one more time. It was in his eyes, his stance, the way he held his hands. He swung his fist, but that was never the blow that was intended to land. Instead, his foot swept up, aiming at her stomach.
She caught it.
Clasping it between her gloved hands, she walked backward, forcing him to hop awkwardly to keep up. When he fell over, she released the leg and stood back. "Ready to give up?" she asked sweetly.
His reply was loaded almost completely with expletives; she decided to take that as a no.
This time, when he got up, she knocked him down again. A straight left-right-left to the face, one after the other. No amp, just her own natural strength, and technique. He got up again. She knocked him down again.
When she put him on the canvas for the third time, he stayed down.
This time, she had learned her lesson; she did not turn her back on him when she addressed the Demons. She only said one word.
"Next?"
There were no takers.
As the West Side Demons carried their fallen comrades from the Gym, Harry got a first aid kit and began to work on Taylor's ear.
"They'll be back," he commented worriedly.
"Let me know if they do come back," she advised him. Danny finished undoing her laces, and she pulled the gloves off. "Ow, that stings."
"That's because you let him hit you," he told her reprovingly. "And how's your jaw?"
"Painful," she admitted. "You were right about dropping my shoulder."
"Of course I was bloody well right," he snorted. "Though how you pulled that off, I have no idea."
"Because you're an awesome teacher?" Taylor ventured hopefully.
"Yeah, sure, pull the other one," he growled. "Your technique is sloppy as hell, and I kept expecting you to simply lose it, but you managed to make it work. How?"
She took a deep breath. "Uh ..."
Danny met her gaze, his expression equally concerned. Silently, she asked him the question. Do I tell him?
He pondered it for a long moment, then nodded. Yeah.
"Okay," she began. "You've got to promise not to tell anyone, okay?"
"Tell anyone what?" he asked.
"Well, there's something you need to know ..."
"Holy crap," breathed Sophia and Emma, more or less in unison.
Sophia turned a mock-accusatory glare on Taylor. "So that's where you've been going."
Taylor nodded. "It's helping, it really is. Harry's got me training, and using amp only when I have to. It's good discipline for me. When we spar, he wears head protection, but I wear none. So when I drop my guard, he pops me one. It's a really good reminder."
"I wondered where you got the black eye from," muttered Sophia. "I was gonna go out and find that Crunch guy, and explain to him why he doesn't hit my girlfriend."
Silence fell across the table, and then she realised what she'd just said. "Oh god," she blurted, "I didn't mean -"
Taylor put a hand on hers. "It's okay," she told Sophia softly. "I appreciate the sentiment." She said no more, but her smile told Sophia volumes.
Emma cleared her throat, to break the awkward silence that had fallen once more. "So, uh, Sophia, how are you going with the Wards?"
Sophia rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. I get along with half of them, and the other half think I'm a total bitch. I'm trying, oh god I'm trying. But it's just so hard."
Taylor got up from her chair and sat down next to Sophia. Wrapping her arms around the shorter girl, she held her close. Sophia laid her head on Taylor's chest, and sniffled a little. "I miss you," she whispered.
Taylor stroked her hair. "Just a little more training," she promised. "When I feel comfortable with my progress, I'll apply to join the Wards."
Sophia's arms went around Taylor.
"Oh god," she breathed feelingly, "I can't wait."
"Nor can I," Taylor assured her. "Nor can I."
End of Chapter Eleven