Scene #2027: Punch, Punch, Fist

Owner	Pose
Sanary Rondel	It had been a while since Sanary went to the Field of Trials with someone else. It was easy enough to let loose in this place with how the room kept people from staying dead, and the healing thing just made it easier to see how much she could get away with. It's for that exact reason that she has invited Kilik and Bison to the area today, having the room set up to look like some sort of fighting ring. She couldn't for the life of her remember the difference between a boxing ring and a wrestling ring, but they looked similar enough that... Hopefully, neither of the other two would notice. And so, she's waiting inside the ring perched atop one of the corner posts in her usual coat and sweatpants combo. Perhaps not the most appropriate dress for what would be happening soon, but changing into something else would require actually changing. Too much effort.
Kirikou	There are a couple of differences, to be sure, but Kirikou has fought on both. He's not about to complain. And if he should happen to fly off the top turnbuckle, well, that'll just be plain awesome. The teen comes in, the Twins in tow. Fire and Thunder stare, wide-eyed, at the ring and everything around. No doubt they know Sanary by now, but perhaps not socially. It... doesn't seem like this is the sort of place you take a couple of eight year old kids, does it? Or maybe you do, when you're in the Confederacy. Not that there's any secret that Fire and Thunder are Kilik's weapons. It's just one of those things. They've seen much worse - and done much worse - than a boxing match could account for. Kirikou's wearing fairly typical gear too. A short-sleeved shirt and baggy pants that would be impossible to recognize as any sort of a uniform. He wears broad sweatbands on his forearms, and yep he's got glasses on. You wouldn't... hit a guy with glasses, would you?
Vega	Mike Bison's lived in the city his whole life. Exempting the time he's spent in Shadowlaw's secret, jungle bases, the big boxer's never really been out of that familiar, simple, normal environment. It's clear by the look on his face that he's awed and delighted by the wonders the Multiverse has to offer, rather than being some unimpressed or jaded newcomer who thinks he's seen it all and isn't willing to let anything get under his skin. Just by the sound of him, he's big. Indeed, 'The Bison' is a huge, hulking black-skinned all-American slab of meat. He's a bit...dim-looking...but what he lacks in brainpower, he probably makes up for in muscle. Those arms look like they could break a car in half. "Hey, what up, kids," Mike holds up a gloved hand as he arrives, waving at Sanary and Kirikou, "This place is crazy, huh? Never seen a place like this. Workin' for Shadowlaw keeps gettin' more and more perks every day. At this rate, maybe I wouldn't even go back to boxing if they offered." "Speakin' of - so you kids wanna get some tips from the Champ, huh?" There's a broad, proud grin on his face. Bison doesn't have much to be proud of - he's dirty boxer, a low-down thug, working for a world-dominating psychopath - but he's proud of his skill. He never had to cheat to win. Or, rather, nothing he did, he considers cheating. Which is more relevant to the matter at hand. "Well, that's met! I'm the champ. Mike Bison. Nice t'meetcha."
Sanary Rondel	Hearing the footsteps from the 'entrance' of the prepared area, Sanary puts just enough energy into her eye to activate it and grant her sight before looking over and raising a hand in greeting. "Hey, Kilik. Gonna be using the twins for this one?" She chuckles lightly and hops off the turnbuckle. "Any sign of-" Her mouth hangs open for a moment as her attention shifts to the newcomer, eventually managing a vaguely whistle-like blowing noise. "... /Damn/, you're bigger in person. Uh, yeah, this place has got some crazy stuff." She clearly isn't used to seeing someone of Mike's size, slipping out of the ring just to get close enough to do a height comparison. Yep. He's definitely taller. "That's the plan. Get some tips, maybe see how many punches we can all take before falling over, grab some food when we're done. I'm Sanary." Grinning slightly, she raises her hand in a lazy half-salute. It could be more formal, but... Nah.
Kirikou	Kirikou is similar in some ways to Bison. He's black-skinned and big. Well, big for a teenage boy at least. He's got muscle... but he's no massive slab of beef. Bison makes him look like the Twins in comparison. Fortunately for Kirikou, he doesn't look dim. There's the twinkle of a quick wit in his eyes, but that might be just the glasses he wears. He grins a friendly greeting to Sanary. "Heya. Nah, I only use my Weapons in a serious fight. Or when my opponent's armed too." he claims, reaching out to ruffle the heads of the Twins. But he couldn't just leave them on another world when he goes to the Citadel, especially not for a fight. "I don't got boxing gloves." he says, squaring up in a competent boxer's stance and throwing a few quick jabs. Enough to make it clear he's not without training at the least. "Not here. Not unless you want me wearin' metal." he grins. "But I can borrow some gloves here, or go bare knuckle, whatever." he adds.
Vega	"Hey, kids. It's a real pleasure. You the first people I've met who aren't from my world. Still gettin' used to this whole thing." Normally, Mike would say something about not saluting, or something like that, but the honest truth is that Bison is a man who appreciates attention and respect. He returns the salute with his big boxing gloves, then offers his mitten-clad hand to Kirikou. His grip is huge and meaty, but Bison is remarkably careful - even if it's not necessary. It's probably force of habit when shaking hands. He seems like that kind of guy. Bison appraises Kirikou's stance with a whistle. "Alright, alright! So you got game. You got game! How about you, San'ry, you got game too? You know any stances, or are we startin' basic?" Bison unlaces his massive gloves and hands them off to Kirikou. His fingers are big, black sausages full of veins, muscle, and scars. These fingers tell stories all on their own. "Here. You can borrow these. They'll do just fine if you lace 'em up tight enough."
Sanary Rondel	Standing closer to Kirikou and Mike, it quickly becomes apparent to Sanary that she might very well be outclassed by both of them just from the sheer size difference. She's not exactly weak-looking by the standards of people from her home world, but she's also several inches shorter than the former and a good foot shorter than the latter. Well, maybe Multiverse physics could work in her favor. It's not as if size means all that much back home, anyway, although it could be difficult reaching their faces at all. "I don't have my axes, so it should be fine. Never know when we'll have to fight with nothing else." She snickers lightly and looks over at the Twins, peering at the two while jerking a thumb at the ceiling. "Don't worry about Kilik or anyone else getting hurt. This place'll fix up, so..." She trails off as Kilik demonstrates some of his moves, furrowing her brow slightly while turning to Mike. He /did/ mention having to get used to this place, didn't he? "Weeell. In that case, welcome to the Field of Trials!" The healer's voice takes on a slightly more grandiose tone, almost sounding pleased with herself at actually being able to explain things for once."It's a place that's like a... Big simulation, kinda? You can test out different weapons, fight in impossible scenarios, and you don't even have to worry about dying or getting permanently screwed up." Stepping back to give herself some space, Sanary takes a quick breath before throwing a few punches. She's definitely doesn't have any sort of formal training or even much of a technique, although... Well, at least she's fast and confident about it. "Self-trained. I'm more of an axe-fighter, though, so basic might be a good starting point."
Kirikou	Kirikou's biggest gift, when it comes to people, is fitting in. Sure, he could squeeze Bison's hand right back. He's probably not as strong as the massive boxer, but physically he's the strongest student in a school where anyone from the elite ten percent class would be an olympic athlete in another world. Black Star is the fastest, Kid the deadliest fighter... but Kirikou's generally considered the best in terms of raw muscle. That would be a good way to turn the meeting into a game of one-upsmanship, however. Competition's cool, but there's no point in it just at this moment. He's here to learn. "The champ's gloves?" he says, his tone of awe perhaps a bit faked but not obviously insincere. He grins, and accepts. He doesn't strip off his sweatbands, pulling the gloves down over them to add a bit of bulk to his forearms, to help bind them in place. Kirikou's no stranger to having oversize gloves on his fists, and these massive things are ... well, they're about perfect for him. A little loose on the interior, but about the same size as his own Weapons in combat-form. And when his fists are knotted, well, they won't be all that loose. Kirikou gets the Twins to help him lace the gloves. The two of them are silent, eerily so, but they appear to be... laughing? Is that what they're doing? Chortling at any rate, making little sounds in their throats that are nonetheless quiet and nowhere near speech. They're good at their job though. One might think they're used to gloves like this. As they work, Kilik nods to Sanary. "My own style's a mix. Capoiera, Karate, Savate. Went to the best combat school in the world, picked up a lot of moves. But the heart of it's American Boxing, natch!" he claims. When you fight using enchanted living gauntlets, it's only natural to seek out training in the Sweet Science. "Sanary's from a world of magic and muscle. Mine's a bit like yours, Champ. Only a lot of people around here call it a really weird one. From my side of things, worlds like yours are a bit boring and lacking in character, that's all!"
Vega	"Hey, when you get as good as me, the bare knuckles're all you need," Mike observes proudly. It is, according to those knuckles, not undue bragging, either. Mike seems like the kind of guy who respects strength, who respects and understands power. Despite his simple-minded appearance, and....well, his simple mind...he's one of Vega's top lieutenants for a reason, and it's probably not because of his tactical skills. He might be a surprisingly good hacker, though. And he also clearly doesn't care if respect is faked or not. There's some open admiration for how well the gloves look on Kirikou - he's a natural boxer, and it's not hard to see that he's used to wearing heavy weapons. The Bison isn't a rank amateur, after all. "The Sweetest Science," The Champ agrees with a big grin, "Don't care what my boss, Sagit, or that fruity Spanish ninja thinks about that, no sir. Boxin's the way a man oughta fight. Two fists face to face, punchin' each other stupid." Bison must've been punched a lot. Mike tries not to be creeped out by the Twins, but he fails. Hurriedly, stumbling over his own voice, he changes track. "Boring and lacking in character, huh? I dunno. I think you might be surprised if that's what you think. I mean, sure, I do the Sweet Science, and I'm not much for anything fancier...but you got guys in my world who throw fire outta their hands, man. And Sagit got that scar of his 'cause of one of them Shotokan kids. Man did karate so hard, it burned Sagit right up the chest." Bison draws his finger up his chest to show. "Burned him with karate, man. How's somebody do somethin' like that?" "Well, anyway. Alright, San'ry. We'll start at the top. Put your hand up like this. You want one hand guardin' your face at all times. Your dominant hand's for straights, your other hand's for jabs. Rapid shots, real quick to the face." Mike pauses. "Stomach. Hell, in a real fight, who cares? Hit 'em in the dangles. Keep you alive a little longer." Mike demonstrates what he means, holding up his own hands into a pose. His fists are fast. It's really obvious to Kirikou (maybe to Sanary, too) that he's slowed down a /lot/ so she can follow his movements, and he's /real/ pecise about every one. Nothing's out of place. No efficency wasted. He's at least good enough to call himself the Champ...
Sanary Rondel	Sanary peers at the gloves inquisitively as they're passed over, seeming confused more than anything else. "I'm wondering, actually. What's with the gloves, anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to hit hard without 'em?" She lets out a laugh at Mike's boast about his knuckles, nodding a moment later after getting a better look at his hands. "Could probably stab someone with those things..." A blank stare crosses her face as Kilik speaks of his fighting style, an awkward chuckle escaping her a few moments later. "Yeah, I just... Swing the axe or hit people hard. No Capparate or anything. Just... Yeah. That's pretty much it." Her voice shrinks a bit as she says that, the self-esteem issues starting to kick in again. Being mismatched is one thing, but not even knowing how badly because of freaking /words/? That just sucks. Then again, she didn't call Mike and Kilik here to mope. She called them here to train! "Don't suppose you got someone over there that can shoot explosions from their faces, eh?" After a light snicker, Sanary grunts lightly before adjusting her stance to try and mimic the champ as best she can, bringing her right hand up for blocking. She doesn't hold it there for long, however, leaning over slightly in awe of the speed and skill behind his punches. "... Shit. I've got a lotta work cut out for me, then." Another chuckle, then she starts trying to imitate those same motions in the air. Although her jabs are fairly fast, that's all they really have going for them. Her aim is off, she's throwing herself off balance slightly every now and then, and she's even overextending her arm several times. Definitely a lot of room for improvement.
Kirikou	Even with help, it takes Kirikou a bit of time to get laced up. Time enough for Bison to show Sanary a thing or two. In the end he's armed though, and he takes his place beside her. Not TOO close beside her, giving room for either to move, but close enough so that Bison can easily-enough address them both. He keeps his movements slow, relatively speaking, moving with practiced ease. Matching Bison's pace. "Most of boxing's conditioning." he says. "Being able to throw a punch is easy. Being able to throw a thousand punches with five pound gloves on, that's not so easy." he explains. "The gloves keep the boxers safe. No broken bones." he adds. Not for the person getting hit, not for the person doing the hitting. And of course they also add to the force being thrown. "Oh, and Mike? You misunderstand." Kirikou smirks. "I'm not sayin' the people are weird. Though we got a few odd ones, I've seen weirder. I mean the LAND is boring. You guys don't have suns and moons with faces. You don't have mountain trolls. Punching someone with fire's easy man! You just have to have a burning soul!" he says. "But having a laughing sun? That's a world with style!"
Vega	"Well, no broken bones fer the guy doin' the hittin'," Mike adds with a vicious grin. Just a reminder that, despite being a jovial motherfucker, he works for Shadowlaw, and they are not, as a rule, pleasant and decent folk. "The gloves make sure your knuckles don't end up like my knuckles. They're good for that. And they don't make takin' the hits hurt any less, trust me." "Like Kirik says," Mike seems to have trouble with foreign names, like many Americans, "It's about conditioning. You do this a hundred times a day, your arms turn into weapons. You do it a thousand times a day, your arms kill a man. You do it two thousand times a day, your arms kill a lotta people." "I do it five thousand times a day," Mike adds. "Probably," the big boxer notes, in regards to the guys who can shoot explosions from their faces, "We got some weird dudes. We got a whole tournament for weird dudes from all over the world. Street Fight's a big, public thing. Makes money. Gets people famous." He takes a moment to process this. "Your sun laughs at ya? Man, that's creepy. I got enough folk laughin' at me. I don't like when people laugh at me." The Champ's face darkens. "I'd prob'ly try and punch your sun." There's a beat. "And then I'd get dead, I guess," he admits, proving that he's at LEAST smarter than he looks.
Sanary Rondel	And just like that, the purpose of boxing gloves becomes so much clearer. "Gotta get some of those. Although... Might be hard to use an axe at the same time, so." Even with the apprehensive look on her face, there's the slight crack of a grin tugging at Sanary's lips. Just because she happens to heal people doesn't means he can't be excited over better methods of hurting people. "But if the padding's not covering the tips, then maybe I could still use those with other things... " Dismissing that thought from her mind, she shakes her head before glancing over to look at the fit of the gloves on Kilik. "Maybe even take some padding off the inside so I can still hold stuff easily. Hm." Resuming her jabs, the slight grin returns to Sanary's face as Mike give them what sounds like his workout plan for punching the hell out of goddamn everything. There's even an oddly dark laugh from the girl, seemingly rejuvenated as she starts to throw jabs in the air more rapidly. "I got a lot of catching up to do, then. Can't let you two get too far ahead just because I've been chopping people instead of punching 'em." She slows down for a moment at the mention of the laughing sun, an odd stare coming over the healer's face. "Uh... To be fair? The one back home doesn't have that, either. I'm still trying to get used to that." She shivers for a moment and shakes her head, trying to get that thought out of her head while focusing on the pointers she's getting. "Pretty much why I don't look up too much at school. Still..." "Punching the sun to death would be pretty cool."