The yard was split by a fence into two parts, one a grassy sparring ring, various wooden or cloth-wrapped weapons in racks along the sides, and the other an old-timey shooting range, tattered bullseyes painted on reinforced sections of the complex wall.
“Training area,” Iain announced, without much pride in his voice. “for what it's worth. As much import as yer brother put on his own training, ye’d think this would have gotten more attention, but apparently, ye’d be wrong.”
“Uh…” Cora said, searching for a positive. She didn’t come up with any, and she shrugged. “Hey, it's here at least.”
“Right enough,” Iain grunted, “Now, not headin’ oot afore I see what ye all can do. Linnea alone is gointy be a big enough target, pretty noble lady n’ all, if the rest of ya’s come with I’ll be needin’ ter know ye can take care of yerselves.”
Hawk raised her hand, and from the look on her face, Cora could tell it wasn’t going to be for a helpful question. Iain gave her the benefit of the doubt though, and nodded towards the giantess.
“You doin’ that accent on purpose? Swear to the gods it’s getting worse,” she asked, and Iain just nodded sagely once more, beckoning her into the ring.
“Right, so ye just volunteered yerself fer first go,” he said, gesturing to the weapon racks. “Pick whatever and come a’ me. Don’ worry, I’ll be ready.”
Hawk’s grin widened, and she stepped over the fence without so much as a hop. She grabbed what was probably supposed to be a two handed maul in one hand, and a tower shield in the other. Cora did not mind the way her muscles tensed under the weight. Soon as she’d hefted the weapons, she charged towards Iain.
He had to hear her coming. But nonetheless, he unhurriedly picked up a wooden longsword from the rack in the ring’s corner, testing its weight in his hands. Hawk roared, building momentum as she braced her shoulder against her shield.
Iain stepped to the side, and the weapon rack splintered under Hawk’s impact. She recovered from the collision impressively quickly, swinging her massive maul down in an overhead swing towards Iain. Again, he simply stepped aside, coolly as though he was avoiding a pesky ray of sun. His sword followed Hawk’s maul down, catching it between the head and the haft and causing her to swing wider and harder than she’d intended into the dirt.
Using it to steady himself, he leaned back, driving a push kick into Hawk’s chest, left open by her wide swing. She cursed as she overbalanced, and had to let go of the maul, pinned under Iain’s sword. To her credit, she covered behind her shield before he brought the weapon around for another stroke, bouncing off the bulwark with a dull thunk.
Less impressively, covering like that had partially blinded her. Iain feinted to her unarmed side, then used the shield to mask his movement in the opposite direction, coming out inside her guard and thrusting his sword up into her armpit.
“Dead,” he stated, dancing out of the way of her elbow’s frustrated backswing. For good measure, he poked her once more between the breasts with his swordtip. Again, with considerable smugness: “Dead.”
His eyes went wide as Hawk’s tower shield flew at him, flung as easily as a frisbee. He redirected it with the flat of his blade, but the force of the impact still knocked him off balance, and the woman herself slammed into him a second later. Unfortunately for her, Hawk came in too high, which given how she was flying ass-over-teakettle a moment later, Iain had apparently expected. Cora wasn’t entirely certain how he’d done it, either. He’d moved faster than she’d ever seen someone move, and when Hawk came down on the other side, Iain was ready, pulling one of her arms tight across his chest and locking his thighs around her throat.
Hawk kept struggling for a minute before she finally tapped out.
“Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to throw that shield in a real fight lass,” he said, hopping up and dusting himself off. “still, not a bad showing! Plenty fast and strong enough to take any ganggoons we’re likely to encounter, maybe even a smaller Shimmer Addict or two, and we can work on the technique. Next?”
The giantess’ eyes burned as she glared at Iain, but Cora could see that Hawk knew she was beaten, and that Iain hadn’t really been trying that hard. It demonstrated pretty well the difference between an excellent brawler and a trained fighter.
Well fuck, not like I’m going to do much better, Cora thought, stepping forward. Sure, she’d taken up martial arts as a hobby after really connecting with it while training for roles. Yeah, there were plenty of vids of her looking reaaaal badass in sparring sessions online. Those didn’t account for the fact that Cora had only ever been in one actual fight, and she’d ended that with a gunshot.
“Ah, Linnea,” Iain exclaimed, a bit of cruel elation entering his eyes as he anticipated beating her ass the same way he had Hawk. “Excited ter see what ye can do with those fancy new moves o’ yers. Goin’ ter obey the rules of a spar a little better than the new girl?”
“Didn’t agree to no rules,” snarled Hawk, stepping back out of the ring as Cora entered, grabbing two long wooden knives off the rack as she did. One was a straight combat blade, the other a forked parrying dagger. She’d had yet to ever successfully use a parrying dagger in a spar, but she’d found she did better holding one anyway, since it made people assume she could use it.
She approached Iain, nodded, and assumed a stance. He returned the courtesy, and fell into his own. They circled, and Cora was painfully aware of the reach difference between the two, both in weapon choice and length of arm. She knew that if she darted in, there was almost no chance Iain wouldn’t get a solid hit in before she reached him.
Iain, obviously, knew that too, but took pity on her. He stepped forward, sword flashing down towards Cora’s shoulder. Except, all of the sudden, it wasn’t flashing anymore. She could track its movement. Still fast, but she had time to react. Her hand felt like it was moving in a dream as she ducked, raising it above her head to deflect Iain’s strike. She could see his eyes go wide in slow motion as she lunged forward, other knife cutting through the air like it was molasses on its path towards his belly.
The world caught up to itself, and Iain shifted just enough that her weapon slid along a carapace plate instead of impacting him squarely. Still, it would have left a nasty gash. He scrambled back, but Cora followed, knowing she had to stay inside his guard, whether or not she got that bullet time experience again.
Has to be that implant, part of her brain observed, but it wasn’t in the driver’s seat right now. She slammed a palm into the hollow of Iain’s sword arm when he tried to maneuver the weapon back between them, angling the knife in her other hand towards the unplated side of his armor. The world slowed again, not supernaturally this time, just the adrenaline rush of fear, as she felt metal at her throat. She froze. When time restarted, she found Iain’s offhand holding a bootknife to her throat, no idea where it had come from.
“Tha’” he panted, “was impressive Linnea. Know you got them implants yer Da’ bought yer, but still, ye got the skill to use ‘em, now. Don’t think I’ll have to be worryin’ about you in a street fight.”
“Yeah,” Cora said, voice shaking a bit as an adrenalin reaction caught up to her, along with the fact she had demonstrated what had definitely felt like superpowers. “I, uh, should’ve practiced with them more.”
“Aye, that ye should,” agreed Iain, “Get used to the extra time they give ye and ye’ll be a menace, especially iff’n we can get ya fast enough to keep up with it.”
Cora nodded, wondering if that were even possible. She’d felt how much slower Linnea was than she had been, but really, she didn’t think that even if she was in the same shape as Cora, it would’ve felt much different in bullet time. Still, in a fight, each instant counted, and she resolved to spend a lot of time in the training yard, provided she kept waking up in Luxholme instead of Beverly Hills.
GET YOUR STATS UP HIGH ENOUGH AND IT WON’T MATTER!
Stats?
EH, I’LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU LEVEL UP
“Alright,” Iain said, placing his sword back into another rack, since the one it had come from was currently splinters. “Satisfied enough with ya’s—”
Tania stepped into the ring, a shortsword and buckler in her arms. Iain looked like he’d only just noticed that she’d followed them out of the office.
“Uh, Lin- Tania, this seems a mite out of yer wheelhouse girlie,” he protested as Tania approached, mimicking Cora as she nodded to him before assuming a (terrible) ready stance. Iain sighed, and acquiesced, with the air of someone who understood continuing with words was going to be useless.
Tania swayed oddly, vaguely unnaturally, and it clearly unnerved Iain, especially as the standoff stretched onwards. He quirked an eyebrow, letting the tip of his sword fall ever so slightly.
“T—”
The girl shrieked, a sound like a banshee of myth, and burst forward in a whirlwind of rage and violence. Iain cursed, Tania’s ferocity taking him by surprise and a hurried swing catching her buckler, seemingly more by luck than skill on Tania’s part.
His free hand caught the wrist of Tania’s sword arm as it whistled towards his head, but the girl immediately lunged towards his grip, sinking her teeth into his glove.
“Gah!” he yelled, dropping his sword and wrapping his hand around her throat. He ripped her off his fingers, and she screamed and scrabbled while he held her in the air. He looked at his fingers, saw blood, then snarled and chokeslammed Tania into the dirt. The girl twitched there, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her.
“Hey!” yelled a new voice, and Cora’s head snapped over to see Kyra approaching, spinning two big gleaming karambits around her pointer fingers. “Hands off, fucker. Grab your real sword, I need an actual match.”