PROJECT ARCHIMEDES
A "Way of the Gun" Sequel
1. EXORCISM
August 15th, 2010
She assaulted the heavy bag like it contained all the evils in the world and she could excise them by pounding the ever loving crap out of it. As if she could hit it hard enough and often enough to drive the pain away. She assaulted it mercilessly; a series of three hit combos followed by knee strikes, spinning heel kicks, elbow smashes. There was a compelling little display of a double kick where she virtually stepped into the bag on a back-swing, right were a good-sized man's crotch ought to be, then dug in with her toes and lifted into a second stomping kick a mere half-second later that would land in the opponent's face.
The routine started simply enough. She came into the gym and commenced to stretching, having dressed appropriate for a work-out, wearing a loose black t-shirt with "75th Rangers" emblazoned across the back, gray sweatpants, and a good pair of rubber-soled moccasin style workout shoes.
After stretching for a while, she oriented on the bag and proceeded to tear into it. It had been far too long since the driven young woman had been banned from these activities by her doctor. She still resented that, though she understood why. Throughout the intense workout she could still feel twinges in her abdomen as she twisted and spun, reawakening old reflexes. They made her even angrier.
The main gym in the employee lounge at Global Dynamics was one of the above-ground facilities. It was a large airy structure, even this secluded sparring corner. Few observers would see much different than what they expected when they looked at the company headquarters: A series of buildings of slightly different architectural styles, indicating spaced out build and design dates; A few public parking areas, and lots of paved walkways between the various buildings; A gym facility with outdoor tennis and basketball courts. In short the place looked almost like a college, but like so much in Eureka the surface appearance barely hinted at the truth. The true facility ran far underground, in some cases miles deep.
Though the main gym was a public place, the few other people in the area began to drift out, one by one, as it became obvious that her intentions were not exercise, but self-flagellation. Misreading the implied sentiments, she pretended that they didn't bother her. But the fact that they were giving her space and avoiding her made her even angrier.
She stepped up the pace. Sweat began to drop hard and heavy, and every second or third combo she had to wipe away sweat laden hair from her eyes. At this point she was welcoming the pain in her screaming muscles, the self-punishing burn, the-
"Jeez Jojo, what's that bag ever done to you?" She whirled to see her erstwhile lover, Zane Donovan, standing about fifteen feet away, dressed in loose workout clothes and holding two masks and two of his custom designed bokken.
She looked at him incredulously. "Go away, Zane. I'm working out." she said hoarsely, she hadn't used her voice a lot today, and the stress was inflecting it.
He snorted and stepped forward, dropping the masks on the ground. "Bullshit, Jo. You're punishing yourself, babe."
"Don't! I hate that word." she snapped.
"Fine." he said, shrugging. "But I still call bullshit. You're way too pissed."
"Fuck you." she snarled and turned around giving the bag a good solid kick that would've fractured a human ribcage.
He laughed. If it were possible that pissed her off even more. She whirled on him and yelled, "Be like everyone else and get the fuck out of here, Zane! Leave me alone!"
There was a wicked glint in his eye as he said simply "No", and threw one of the wooden swords at her in and underhand toss. Her reflexes primed for a fight, her hand snapped forward to intercept the practice sword.
He followed the toss a split second later with a full-bodied shouting battle-cry and swinging his own sword-stick for her head!
Jo quickly adopted a two-handed grip, barely falling into a half-assed defensive stance, her mind swirling with confusion and shock. When he did that scream of his there was absolutely no doubting his sincerity and commitment to the attack. Of all the things he'd picked up in his various lighter studies of the Japanese martial arts, that ki-focusing shout was one of his most adept skills. It drove right into your gut and hit your brain with this freezing moment of confusion, and was a weapon unto itself.
THWACK!
The two bokken clashed. Jo shifted forward, rapidly flowing into a textbook riposte, slipping her sword up and his off over her shoulder as she spun, aiming to bring the blade across his stomach, keeping the blow close and twisting to maximize the cutting force.
KRACK!
Like some freaking wall his sword was suddenly there, blocking her strike. Her anger surged for a moment. Of course he'd bring these damn sticks! If there was any one area in the physical arts that he was even remotely close to her it was in swordplay.
In the months since the incident in Carter's old house he'd dove back into the study of the various martial arts he'd once dabbled in, and his skill with these sticks was improving in leaps and bounds. He and Fargo had been working on an old hologram program one of the old directors, William King had developed. The added exercise in an entirely different arena hadn't done bad things for his physique either, she idly noted.
They separated and traded a few more blows, each probing and pushing, each testing the others' defenses. As they stalked they kept their practice swords low, the tips of the blades facing each others' wrists. The ready position of Shingyoto-ryu. Only once or twice did either of them jump forward with a shouted "Kiyai!", hoping to find a weakness or exploit one. The sounds of the gym had shifted from the repeated pummeling of the heavy sandbag into the sharp, hard cracks as each struck and parried.
This form of fighting was quite different than the samurai movies, with their big sweeping, windmilling arcs and the focus of their dueling entertainment rather than spilling the other sonsofbitch's guts on the floor. When Zane had started learning kenjutsu he'd fought like a movie samurai. He'd been snapped repeatedly, and to this day still remembered Sensei Han shouting "Suki!" at him every time he found an opening, and snapping him with his own bokken, and hard, for each one! That old man had been a holy terror on his students. The purpose of this school of fighting was to end it as fast as possible; to dispatch your opponent and be ready for the next one. Ideally you would finish the fight with a single sword-strike.
She thought she had him at the end. He shifted too far one direction, leaving his right side slightly open. In retrospect, she thought, she should have paid a little more attention to his eyes when he did it. He was still a shitty poker player. She lunged forward, a short sharp strike aimed at taking off his leg!
And he almost disappeared from the target zone! Pulling his leg out of the way in a spin he brought his sword down on top of hers, striking the back of the blade in a disarming strike that he quickly followed with a strike across her spine.
Well, that was his intent.
He should not have gone for the disarm. Instead of standing still for the spine-slicing finishing move, she continued her forward momentum and collapsed on the floor, scything her right leg out in a sweep that tangled his ankles together and sent him crashing to the mat.
Exultantly she rolled forward, mixing some pankration into the duel, planting one knee on his midsection, her left hand pinning his right shoulder to the mat, her right cocked up by her ear already. Like a gunshot she exploded into the final move. "Hiyai!" she shouted, straight from the diaphragm, the blow descended with crushing force, two knuckles aimed squarely at his nose and upper jaw.
She stopped the blow a moment from making contact, then lightly touched the tip of his nose with her fist. "Gotcha!" she exulted.
He was smiling, a huge giddy thing, his mouth split wide with it as he gazed into her eyes. Lightly he kissed her closed hand, the grimaced.
"Could you maybe-" he gasped, "-Take your knee out of my guts?" She flushed even harder and extricated herself, careful not to put her weight on the knee that was stopping him from breathing. He grabbed her hand before she got away entirely and pulled her back down. "I didn't say you should go, Jo. Just your knee!"
She let him pull her down for a kiss. The kiss grew heated, and rapidly became something not fit for the public arena, unless they were trying out for some form of new performance art. He didn't seem to mind it all so much, but her ingrained sense of propriety badgered her enough that she broke it off.
She sat up, facing away from him, trying to control her emotions. He sat up as well. She was sitting with her back toward his right side, and he scooted in closer, twisting slightly so he could wrap his arms around her and rest his head on her shoulder, kissing her on the neck as he did so. It was easy for him, then, to feel the shaking in her frame that went beyond the simple letdown of the adrenalin. She was struggling hard not to cry.
"What's wrong, Jo?" he asked. "I know this has got to be more than you hiring the new guy to replace Mike Hanson, but-"
"It's not that." she sniffed, wiping a wrist across her nose and finally giving in to the emotions. She leaned into him and let the sorrow flow.
He let her cry for as long as she wanted to, just sitting there, holding her. He never noticed if anyone came to the gym. After a while he said, "Whatever it is, we can deal with it, Jo."
He kissed her neck again and hugged her. "I love you, babe."
She laughed in spite of the tears. "I hate that word!" she protested weakly.
"I know." he said again, smiling.
She sighed and relaxed into him, the tears finally held at bay. "Allison released me back to regular exercise duty." she began. He didn't interrupt. If he'd learned anything over these last three months it was that she would talk when she wanted to and there was nothing he could do to analyze it or cajole it aside from being willing to listen. Treating their encounters like a science puzzle was the wrong thing to do, he knew that immediately, but sometimes it was so very hard to let her talk at her pace without immediately jumping forward with the answer. Betimes it was a constant struggle in his emotions to just let her talk about a problem.
"She looked at some of the test results… and… the injuries from the shrapnel are healed enough for regular exercise, sure, but she's pretty sure the damage to my… my ovaries on that side is permanent. They can't repair it. Even if they could, the sustained damage… well… it-" she choked a little bit of a cry and sunk her head into his arm, murmuring "All the eggs there died."
He hugged her tight. "Wait, they… you mean?"
"Yeah" she managed, the tears threatening once more.
That was another thing he'd learned over the months; how closely she valued family. She'd had several conversations with her brothers in the months since they'd dropped all the charades, and even without talking to them directly he could tell that the surviving Lupos were a very tightly knit bunch. He wasn't internally unified behind the idea that he was ready for that commitment, but a part of him had always wanted kids too. This was bad news for her on a level that had to be soul deep.
He kissed her neck again. "Josefina Lupo. I love you no matter what. Okay? We'll work through it." He tightened his hug on her as she squeezed back with the one free arm.
"Thank you. I love you, too, Zane." she kissed the arm wrapped around her.
Disclaimer: I don't own Eureka, it's characters, or its concepts, I'm just playing for fun and an educational experience.
Author's Notes: As a sequel to "Way of the Gun", this one will deal with the aftermath and the new situations. While this may seem cruel and callous to Jo, and I admit it really is, it is a possible outcome and it adds drama.
I don't anticipate going 1st person with this story, so far it feels right to switch between 3rd-person limited and omniscient. I'm sorry if that's confusing. I like to experiment in my fanfics with different styles to see how it feels, how easy it is to write, etc.
Please read and review, and let me know what you liked and didn't, it stands a good chance of informing on the rest of the story.