The Angel's Knight #13 - Full Contact Sparring
#
Los Angeles, October 14, 2017
#
I didn't expect this weird a day when I went to bed yesterday, let me tell you that. Granted, when you're in my line of work pretty much every day is weird, but only by comparison to all those normal people I keep hearing about. Never seem to meet any of those. All the people I hang out with are just as weird as me, if not more so.
I hate getting up early. I want to establish that much because I am not usually in this grouchy a mood. Seeing as I usually don't get to bed before three or four am, usually after a really exhausting physical workout with sparring partners of the undead kind, maybe you can empathize. Times were I got by with three hours of sleep each night and still had energy to burn even after staking a dozen vampires. God, I miss being young.
Don't get me wrong. Thirty-five isn't exactly retirement home age. Plus girls like me get better with age, at least as far as fighting skills and strength are concerned. Wes tells me I'm the strongest Slayer ever simply by the fact that I have lasted as long as I have. Some days I think he just wants to flatter me.
As far as I'm concerned the strongest Slayer ever isn't here anymore.
Okay, no gloomy thoughts right now. There are other problems on the Slayer plate today and they're of the really weird kind. When I first got called as the Slayer all these years ago my Watcher, my first one, gave me all this blah blah blah about how I was now the one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to defeat vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Only she had to add 'Oh, by the way, there is another girl. You're not the only one after all.'
Bummer, eh? Anyway, it wasn't so bad. Being the Chosen Two instead of the Chosen One was a lot of fun, at least for a time. Then it stopped being fun and got really fucked up, but that is a story I don't intend to rehash. It's over with and done. I'm not that person anymore, haven't been for over a decade. I can't tell you the exact moment I turned my life around. I guess it was a lot of little baby steps, the final one being when I learned that I was now the one girl in all the world for real. The only one left.
Things went up after that. I got a Watcher again, one that holds little resemblance to the spineless geek he was when I first met him. Wes is pretty cool these days. It's only occasionally you still see the little bookworm peek out behind his manly beard stubble and sexy accent. Considering that I almost tortured him to death once I still don't quite know why he decided to take me back, but he did. I don't think I can ever properly thank him for that.
"I don't think she believes you, Wes," I tell him, coming out of my thoughts.
"I fear you are correct, Faith."
We spent the better half of the day trying to convince a young girl called Diana that she is the Slayer. Fancy that, eh? For sixteen years I've been the Chosen One and now, out of nowhere, there is this girl who also has a claim to the title. I wonder if this is how B felt when she first met that Slayer that preceded me. Kendra, I think she was called. Never expected to meet my own successor. Except for that one slip-up involving a certain blonde no Slayer ever had that privilege. Death doesn't usually let you go again once it's got its teeth into your throat.
Diana is a Slayer. I get that same wicked vibe from her I remember feeling every single time I was around B. Fuck, it's been sixteen years since I felt it, but the memory is clear as day. A buzz running up and down my spine, the hairs on my neck standing up straight. A little like when I zero in on a vampire, yet completely different. Vamps make me feel itchy and pissed, but this ... this is different.
As for how I feel about suddenly being one half of the Chosen Two again instead of the Chosen One ... well, I don't really know. Don't think it has sunken in quite yet. It doesn't help that Diana is still looking at us as if she thinks we're completely out of our minds. Yeah, I know that look, kiddo. When I met my first Watcher I was convinced she was on a wicked trip and asked her whether she got any of that shit left for me.
When it appeared that Diana was on the verge of freaking out completely Wes decided to call for a break. Gunn has taken the kid for lunch, leaving the Watcher man, the witch, and me to figure things out.
"You really don't have a single clue about this, do you?" I ask him, smirking.
"Unless you neglected to mention your untimely death, no."
Wes is quite good at punning back at me these days. Most of the people around here are, actually. The days when I managed to shock them all with a few choice words and a sexy smirk are long gone. Boy, even Tara manages to get one up on me now and then. Speaking of which...
"Could you explain that aura thing to me again, blondie?"
Tara, reclining in a nearby chair, brushes some blonde strands out of her hair. She looks troubled.
"I can't really describe it any better, Faith. Your and Diana's auras appear almost completely in synch. It's a rare thing and I've never seen it before. If Wesley is to be believed, though, it's the same kind of harmony you shared with Buffy."
Harmony is not the word I would use to describe the state of affairs between B and me, not even in the days when we were something like friends.
"Between your ... buzz, as you call it, and Tara's reading of your auras, I believe there is little doubt that she is, in fact, a Slayer, however it happened. The problem is, how do we convince her?"
"The story hour certainly didn't get the job done," I tell Wes. "Kid looked like she was ready to nominate you for an Oscar, though. Wicked performance, Wes."
"Any constructive comments?" He raises his eyebrows at me, but there is the slightest smile on his lips, showing that he's not really irked.
"I think the time-honored method is our way to go, Wes. Let's get physical!"
He frowns. "Do you really think taking this amnesiac girl out into a cemetery to stake her first vampire is a good idea?"
"Forget the cemeteries and the vamps! There are other ways to get the juices flowing, Wes. I believe there is a sparring class scheduled for about half an hour from now, isn't there?"
Between Gunn, Angel, Wes, and me, not to mention quite a few of Gunn's more experienced people, we have a solid group of people with vast martial arts knowledge. Certainly enough to train quite a few recruits on how to kick demon ass. It's not just kids from the shelters who are training with us, of course. Beefstick's Initiative guys also like to send some of their top newbies our way for the final polish.
"It might just work," Wes nods. "As a Slayer she should have all the instincts and skills. Even mock combat should be enough to draw them out."
I can't suppress a chuckle. "Wes, I thought you'd learned by now that, with Slayers, there is no such thing as mock combat."
He sighs, rubbing some spots where yesterday's training session left him with some bruises. "I seem to remember that, yes."
#
Convincing the kid to go along with our plan was almost as hard as convincing her she is a Slayer, but she finally resigned herself. I can be quite convincing, can't I? Class is in session in the Hyperion's big gym. It was a ballroom once, but what do we need a ballroom for? About forty people are present, most of them from the shelters, though I see at least two guys whom I know from the Initiative.
The class' current trainer is also a military guy.
"Hi, buzzcut," I greet him, bringing a smile to his features.
I first met Graham about ten years ago, just about the time we started seriously cooperating with the Initiative. Apparently he was one of the guys involved in the whole Sunnydale fiasco all these years ago. One of the few who survived and stayed on board when it all turned to shit. He's one of the best non-supernatural fighters I've ever met and quite skilled in other areas, too.
"Faith, hi," he greets me with a peck on the cheek. Eat that, Gunn! You're not the only male on this planet, brother, no matter what you might think. Okay, thoughts back to business!
"Mind lending me and my new friend here the center stage for a while?" I nod my head towards Diana, who seems rather unhappy at being here.
"New recruit?" Graham inquires, checking her out. Men! Show them a girl in skimpy exercise clothing (on loan from yours truly) and their IQ drops to room temperature. Some things don't change, do they? Let's hope so!
"Something like that. We want to figure out what she's got."
He gives me something of a look. "Want me to take this one? No offense, Faith, but most people who spar with you end up ... well, unhappy."
"Black and blue you mean. Don't worry. This girl's a little more than meets the eye."
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any further. Some barked orders later the mats are empty, recruits and trainers alike making room for us. All eyes are on us and I can almost hear the questions popping through their heads. Why do I take the time to train with this little girl? My schedule being what it is I normally don't have time to train with any but the most advanced classes.
I got the feeling we're going to give them something of a show here today.
"I don't know about his," Diana whispers to me as we move onto the mats. Her dark hair is tied back in a ponytail and she's biting her bottom lip. I wonder whether I ever looked that young and uncertain. Probably did, but that was ages ago. As far as Slayers go I'm a senior citizen several times over and sometimes I feel like it, too.
"Trust me, kiddo! You got the moves; you just don't know it yet. And hey, I promise I won't be too hard on you."
"I never fought anyone before. I think. I don't even know where to start."
"You will."
We take position in the center of the mats and I tune out the crowd, concentrating on her. Oh yeah, she's a Slayer all right. The buzz is there in full force, growing even stronger with the promise of impending combat. I catch myself grinning in anticipation. Being what I am I have a real problem finding suitable sparring partners. The big A can give me a decent workout, but he's pretty much the only one and a very busy man to boot.
Well, let's see what little Diana here can do.
I start by throwing a few easy kicks and punches her way, nothing too fancy. She ducks and blocks without hesitation and there is a look of surprise on her face as she does.
"How did I...?"
"All part of the package, kiddo."
I begin to put some more effort into my attacks and Diana reacts again, blocking and ducking with ease. Her style is raw and the look of astonishment ruins the image a bit, but she is doing well. We're still in mere human territory here, though. Time to push the envelope a bit more.
Gradually increasing the strength and speed of my attacks soon takes us up to supernatural levels. I hear some gasps from our audience, to whom our movements are getting increasingly blurry. Diana matches my speed and her movements become more and more fluid, almost as if her body is starting to remember something long forgotten. It was just like that for me, too. Being the Slayer gives us a whole heap of instinctive skills, we just need to learn how to access them.
Looks like Diana is a fast learner.
All she's doing so far is defending herself. Time to see whether she can do the other stuff as well. On my next attack I intentionally leave myself wide open, practically begging her to take a good shot at me. The kid doesn't disappoint. She ducks under my swing and smoothly moves into a roundhouse kick, her foot zipping towards my face with enough force to hospitalize many a man. I block her and go on the offensive once more.
Time quickly ceases to have meaning as we fall into an ever-quickening rhythm of strikes and counter-strikes. The clueless look on Diana's face slowly becomes one of intense concentration with the barest hint of a smile in there. Sweat flows freely down both our faces and I can actually feel the first traces of tiredness in my bones. Man, this kid is good.
I have no idea how long we fight and I don't give a damn. This is too much fun. In the end we're sparring in earnest, no more holding back on my side, and it's not strength or speed but twenty years' edge of experience that enable me to take her down. Diana leaves herself open for half a second and I drop down to sweep her feet out from under her. Before she can flip up again (a move that left her completely dumbfounded when she found herself performing it the first time) I'm on top of her, wrenching her arm behind her back into a painful hammerlock. She tries to throw an elbow at me, but it's too awkward a position with me sitting on top of her.
"Give?" I ask her with a smirk on my face. Boy, I haven't had this good a workout in ages.
Diana groans, but finally taps the mat in submission. I pull her up and become aware of the many stares and hanging jaws around us. I can't help but give a little bow.
"I believe we can lay all doubt to rest," Wes comments.
"I can't believe I did that," Diana says, shaking her head.
"Believe it, kiddo! You gave me a wicked workout here."
"But I ... I never did stuff like this before. That I can remember anyway."
"She's a Slayer, isn't she?" Graham asks, clueing in.
"Got it in one, buzzcut."
"But I thought a new Slayer was only called when..."
"Believe me, your guess is as good as ours."
Gunn throws Diana a towel and she absentmindedly begins dabbing at her sweaty forehead. From the look on her face, though, she is in a completely different place. I've never been good with words, so I just keep my quiet and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in support. She gives me half a smile, but I can tell she is wigged in a big way.
"Come on, kiddo! Let's head for the showers. The big brains here can try and figure out how it all came to pass."
She hesitates for a moment, but then comes along. Believe me, kid, I know what it's like when life is like a roller coaster and all you can do is hang on and see where it takes you. A hot shower won't solve all your problems, but it'll at least take your mind off them for a minute or two. Sometimes that is the best one can get in this business.
TO BE CONTINUED
#
Los Angeles, October 14, 2017
#
I didn't expect this weird a day when I went to bed yesterday, let me tell you that. Granted, when you're in my line of work pretty much every day is weird, but only by comparison to all those normal people I keep hearing about. Never seem to meet any of those. All the people I hang out with are just as weird as me, if not more so.
I hate getting up early. I want to establish that much because I am not usually in this grouchy a mood. Seeing as I usually don't get to bed before three or four am, usually after a really exhausting physical workout with sparring partners of the undead kind, maybe you can empathize. Times were I got by with three hours of sleep each night and still had energy to burn even after staking a dozen vampires. God, I miss being young.
Don't get me wrong. Thirty-five isn't exactly retirement home age. Plus girls like me get better with age, at least as far as fighting skills and strength are concerned. Wes tells me I'm the strongest Slayer ever simply by the fact that I have lasted as long as I have. Some days I think he just wants to flatter me.
As far as I'm concerned the strongest Slayer ever isn't here anymore.
Okay, no gloomy thoughts right now. There are other problems on the Slayer plate today and they're of the really weird kind. When I first got called as the Slayer all these years ago my Watcher, my first one, gave me all this blah blah blah about how I was now the one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to defeat vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Only she had to add 'Oh, by the way, there is another girl. You're not the only one after all.'
Bummer, eh? Anyway, it wasn't so bad. Being the Chosen Two instead of the Chosen One was a lot of fun, at least for a time. Then it stopped being fun and got really fucked up, but that is a story I don't intend to rehash. It's over with and done. I'm not that person anymore, haven't been for over a decade. I can't tell you the exact moment I turned my life around. I guess it was a lot of little baby steps, the final one being when I learned that I was now the one girl in all the world for real. The only one left.
Things went up after that. I got a Watcher again, one that holds little resemblance to the spineless geek he was when I first met him. Wes is pretty cool these days. It's only occasionally you still see the little bookworm peek out behind his manly beard stubble and sexy accent. Considering that I almost tortured him to death once I still don't quite know why he decided to take me back, but he did. I don't think I can ever properly thank him for that.
"I don't think she believes you, Wes," I tell him, coming out of my thoughts.
"I fear you are correct, Faith."
We spent the better half of the day trying to convince a young girl called Diana that she is the Slayer. Fancy that, eh? For sixteen years I've been the Chosen One and now, out of nowhere, there is this girl who also has a claim to the title. I wonder if this is how B felt when she first met that Slayer that preceded me. Kendra, I think she was called. Never expected to meet my own successor. Except for that one slip-up involving a certain blonde no Slayer ever had that privilege. Death doesn't usually let you go again once it's got its teeth into your throat.
Diana is a Slayer. I get that same wicked vibe from her I remember feeling every single time I was around B. Fuck, it's been sixteen years since I felt it, but the memory is clear as day. A buzz running up and down my spine, the hairs on my neck standing up straight. A little like when I zero in on a vampire, yet completely different. Vamps make me feel itchy and pissed, but this ... this is different.
As for how I feel about suddenly being one half of the Chosen Two again instead of the Chosen One ... well, I don't really know. Don't think it has sunken in quite yet. It doesn't help that Diana is still looking at us as if she thinks we're completely out of our minds. Yeah, I know that look, kiddo. When I met my first Watcher I was convinced she was on a wicked trip and asked her whether she got any of that shit left for me.
When it appeared that Diana was on the verge of freaking out completely Wes decided to call for a break. Gunn has taken the kid for lunch, leaving the Watcher man, the witch, and me to figure things out.
"You really don't have a single clue about this, do you?" I ask him, smirking.
"Unless you neglected to mention your untimely death, no."
Wes is quite good at punning back at me these days. Most of the people around here are, actually. The days when I managed to shock them all with a few choice words and a sexy smirk are long gone. Boy, even Tara manages to get one up on me now and then. Speaking of which...
"Could you explain that aura thing to me again, blondie?"
Tara, reclining in a nearby chair, brushes some blonde strands out of her hair. She looks troubled.
"I can't really describe it any better, Faith. Your and Diana's auras appear almost completely in synch. It's a rare thing and I've never seen it before. If Wesley is to be believed, though, it's the same kind of harmony you shared with Buffy."
Harmony is not the word I would use to describe the state of affairs between B and me, not even in the days when we were something like friends.
"Between your ... buzz, as you call it, and Tara's reading of your auras, I believe there is little doubt that she is, in fact, a Slayer, however it happened. The problem is, how do we convince her?"
"The story hour certainly didn't get the job done," I tell Wes. "Kid looked like she was ready to nominate you for an Oscar, though. Wicked performance, Wes."
"Any constructive comments?" He raises his eyebrows at me, but there is the slightest smile on his lips, showing that he's not really irked.
"I think the time-honored method is our way to go, Wes. Let's get physical!"
He frowns. "Do you really think taking this amnesiac girl out into a cemetery to stake her first vampire is a good idea?"
"Forget the cemeteries and the vamps! There are other ways to get the juices flowing, Wes. I believe there is a sparring class scheduled for about half an hour from now, isn't there?"
Between Gunn, Angel, Wes, and me, not to mention quite a few of Gunn's more experienced people, we have a solid group of people with vast martial arts knowledge. Certainly enough to train quite a few recruits on how to kick demon ass. It's not just kids from the shelters who are training with us, of course. Beefstick's Initiative guys also like to send some of their top newbies our way for the final polish.
"It might just work," Wes nods. "As a Slayer she should have all the instincts and skills. Even mock combat should be enough to draw them out."
I can't suppress a chuckle. "Wes, I thought you'd learned by now that, with Slayers, there is no such thing as mock combat."
He sighs, rubbing some spots where yesterday's training session left him with some bruises. "I seem to remember that, yes."
#
Convincing the kid to go along with our plan was almost as hard as convincing her she is a Slayer, but she finally resigned herself. I can be quite convincing, can't I? Class is in session in the Hyperion's big gym. It was a ballroom once, but what do we need a ballroom for? About forty people are present, most of them from the shelters, though I see at least two guys whom I know from the Initiative.
The class' current trainer is also a military guy.
"Hi, buzzcut," I greet him, bringing a smile to his features.
I first met Graham about ten years ago, just about the time we started seriously cooperating with the Initiative. Apparently he was one of the guys involved in the whole Sunnydale fiasco all these years ago. One of the few who survived and stayed on board when it all turned to shit. He's one of the best non-supernatural fighters I've ever met and quite skilled in other areas, too.
"Faith, hi," he greets me with a peck on the cheek. Eat that, Gunn! You're not the only male on this planet, brother, no matter what you might think. Okay, thoughts back to business!
"Mind lending me and my new friend here the center stage for a while?" I nod my head towards Diana, who seems rather unhappy at being here.
"New recruit?" Graham inquires, checking her out. Men! Show them a girl in skimpy exercise clothing (on loan from yours truly) and their IQ drops to room temperature. Some things don't change, do they? Let's hope so!
"Something like that. We want to figure out what she's got."
He gives me something of a look. "Want me to take this one? No offense, Faith, but most people who spar with you end up ... well, unhappy."
"Black and blue you mean. Don't worry. This girl's a little more than meets the eye."
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any further. Some barked orders later the mats are empty, recruits and trainers alike making room for us. All eyes are on us and I can almost hear the questions popping through their heads. Why do I take the time to train with this little girl? My schedule being what it is I normally don't have time to train with any but the most advanced classes.
I got the feeling we're going to give them something of a show here today.
"I don't know about his," Diana whispers to me as we move onto the mats. Her dark hair is tied back in a ponytail and she's biting her bottom lip. I wonder whether I ever looked that young and uncertain. Probably did, but that was ages ago. As far as Slayers go I'm a senior citizen several times over and sometimes I feel like it, too.
"Trust me, kiddo! You got the moves; you just don't know it yet. And hey, I promise I won't be too hard on you."
"I never fought anyone before. I think. I don't even know where to start."
"You will."
We take position in the center of the mats and I tune out the crowd, concentrating on her. Oh yeah, she's a Slayer all right. The buzz is there in full force, growing even stronger with the promise of impending combat. I catch myself grinning in anticipation. Being what I am I have a real problem finding suitable sparring partners. The big A can give me a decent workout, but he's pretty much the only one and a very busy man to boot.
Well, let's see what little Diana here can do.
I start by throwing a few easy kicks and punches her way, nothing too fancy. She ducks and blocks without hesitation and there is a look of surprise on her face as she does.
"How did I...?"
"All part of the package, kiddo."
I begin to put some more effort into my attacks and Diana reacts again, blocking and ducking with ease. Her style is raw and the look of astonishment ruins the image a bit, but she is doing well. We're still in mere human territory here, though. Time to push the envelope a bit more.
Gradually increasing the strength and speed of my attacks soon takes us up to supernatural levels. I hear some gasps from our audience, to whom our movements are getting increasingly blurry. Diana matches my speed and her movements become more and more fluid, almost as if her body is starting to remember something long forgotten. It was just like that for me, too. Being the Slayer gives us a whole heap of instinctive skills, we just need to learn how to access them.
Looks like Diana is a fast learner.
All she's doing so far is defending herself. Time to see whether she can do the other stuff as well. On my next attack I intentionally leave myself wide open, practically begging her to take a good shot at me. The kid doesn't disappoint. She ducks under my swing and smoothly moves into a roundhouse kick, her foot zipping towards my face with enough force to hospitalize many a man. I block her and go on the offensive once more.
Time quickly ceases to have meaning as we fall into an ever-quickening rhythm of strikes and counter-strikes. The clueless look on Diana's face slowly becomes one of intense concentration with the barest hint of a smile in there. Sweat flows freely down both our faces and I can actually feel the first traces of tiredness in my bones. Man, this kid is good.
I have no idea how long we fight and I don't give a damn. This is too much fun. In the end we're sparring in earnest, no more holding back on my side, and it's not strength or speed but twenty years' edge of experience that enable me to take her down. Diana leaves herself open for half a second and I drop down to sweep her feet out from under her. Before she can flip up again (a move that left her completely dumbfounded when she found herself performing it the first time) I'm on top of her, wrenching her arm behind her back into a painful hammerlock. She tries to throw an elbow at me, but it's too awkward a position with me sitting on top of her.
"Give?" I ask her with a smirk on my face. Boy, I haven't had this good a workout in ages.
Diana groans, but finally taps the mat in submission. I pull her up and become aware of the many stares and hanging jaws around us. I can't help but give a little bow.
"I believe we can lay all doubt to rest," Wes comments.
"I can't believe I did that," Diana says, shaking her head.
"Believe it, kiddo! You gave me a wicked workout here."
"But I ... I never did stuff like this before. That I can remember anyway."
"She's a Slayer, isn't she?" Graham asks, clueing in.
"Got it in one, buzzcut."
"But I thought a new Slayer was only called when..."
"Believe me, your guess is as good as ours."
Gunn throws Diana a towel and she absentmindedly begins dabbing at her sweaty forehead. From the look on her face, though, she is in a completely different place. I've never been good with words, so I just keep my quiet and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in support. She gives me half a smile, but I can tell she is wigged in a big way.
"Come on, kiddo! Let's head for the showers. The big brains here can try and figure out how it all came to pass."
She hesitates for a moment, but then comes along. Believe me, kid, I know what it's like when life is like a roller coaster and all you can do is hang on and see where it takes you. A hot shower won't solve all your problems, but it'll at least take your mind off them for a minute or two. Sometimes that is the best one can get in this business.
TO BE CONTINUED
