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WARNING: MATURE SUBJECT MATTER

Callisto goes toe to toe with Thor and learns what 'God' really means.




"They don’t let Don fight any more." Walt fell into step beside Callisto and Jubilee as the followed the club Vice-President into the warehouse. "Last time, he broke a guy's arm in the initial fist bump. I kinda wish this whole Thor shit had never happened. He's a good kid, not quite as rough around the edges as his dad."

The invitation had almost been a challenge, especially since they assumed that Callisto’s relationship was a bit of a revolving door between Amanda and the new girls from the porn studio. Still, they had accepted the chance to watch the underground fight between two opposing pledges.

"Yeah, that's some handshake," Callisto said - rather non-committally, perhaps, loping gracefully along beside the biker - who, it turned out, wasn't so bad once you got past his tendency towards casual racism and an ingrained sexist streak.

Jubilee stayed quiet and kept close to Callisto as they walked, she wasn't sure yet exactly what sort of personality was going to be required and preferred to keep her mouth shut until she was. She figured they'd notice a screw up more then they would simple quietness.

"Damn shame too. Don was a hell of a boxer. Won a state championship when he was sixteen." Walt led them past the ring and to a collection of folding chairs. Don Blake was sitting on the other side, holding court with a mix of fellow Valhallas and performers from the club, although Sylvia was no where to be seen. "Now, he says he's a god and can rip cars in half. So fucked if I know what to think any more."

"Bit of a waste of cars," Callisto quipped dryly, throwing a momentary, thoughtful pout in the young man's direction. "How strong is he?"

"Fuck, I don't know. He lifted Ron's 4x4 with one hand last week." Walt sat down in one of the chairs. He'd been 'appointed' by Deke to keep the newcomers up to date and out of trouble while they worked out a deal. The older man didn't much like babysitting, but Deke was the President. "Got a pledge in against a logger who boxes semi-pro in the off season. Should be a good fight."

'Middle of bumfuck nowhere' was not Jubilee's usual operating ground, and Callisto was doing a much better job of talking and fitting in right now then she'd be doing if she opened her mouth. It was an easy equation when you came right down to it, and the more she learnt just by listening and observing while Callisto kept Walt busy, the more she'd be able to provide later.

So she took the chance to glance around at the other members of the 'audience', allowing her eyes to linger on Don no more then they did on any of the others, but still trying to ferret away as much detail as possible to go over later when she had the luxury of time.

Walt gave Jubilee a look and shrugged. Maybe the Jap was a retard, he thought, letting his attention turn back to the ring. The pledge was wiry and lean, arms covered in tattoos from his wrists to his shoulders. Across from him was the logger, not much bigger weight wise, but more solidly built, with tremendous definition in his arms. They bumped gloves and immediately moved into a fighting stance. "I think Dickstick is about to get his clock cleaned tonight. Who do you like?"

Callisto shrugged. "Hard to say 'til you see 'em moving," she said. "Can't always tell just by lookin'." She allowed for a small smirk at this. "Ask me once they've started."

"If the pledge is hungrier for it, could be he'll go further then the guy who's a semi-pro," Jubilee noted finally, feeling confident in her answer. "The semi-pro has more to lose if he gets injured, might feel like this isn't a fight that's worth it but your pledge has something to prove, that could give him the edge."

"You done some work in the ring between lap dances, girl?" Walt said, raising an eyebrow at her response. Before he could press further, the bell was struck and the two men moved into the centre of the ring. They circled, trading blows, gauging each other. The pledge was being aggressive, landing blows against the arms and body of the semi-pro, who stubbornly kept pushing him towards the corner. He slipped a roundhouse off his shoulder, and lashed out with a vicious right into the pledge's gut. The man went back into the ropes, and was caught across the forehead was another smash. The bell rang, separating them, but the pledge was moving much slower.

"Figures. Dickstick is already winded and that logger has barely broken a sweat." Walt said, and true to his word, the second round was quickly dominated by the logger, who now traded blow for blow, as each one of the pledge's strikes had a little less power behind them. less than a minute in, the semi-pro crossed him up with a combination and drove a pair of jabs into the pledge's nose. The young man went over as if pole-axed, and half the crowd cursed him as he lay insensible on the floor of the ring. Don Blake crossed over to them and Walt gave him a grin.

"I think we're going to need a temporary pledge until Dickstick finds where his nose ended up."

"He has a lot to learn about combat." Don laughed as one of the bikers helped him up. "If you are going to charge in, you must be committed fully and completely. Otherwise, boldness turns into a rash decision."

"Like your fight against that kid from State a couple of years ago?"

Don laughed. "That was different, Walt. I had a hundred bucks on myself. I had to win." He stopped, and they caught a momentarily flash of confusion in his eyes before he reached out to clasp Walt's shoulder. "An old warrior is one that has learned survival. The best take from both the young and the old with them into battle. What says you, woman?" He said, addressing Callisto directly.

"Mm?" Callisto started slightly, perhaps surprised at being addressed, her eyes following the action in the background as the young man was helped away from the scene. Her gaze flickered back to Don now as she processed what he'd said. "Oh. Yeah, I guess," she said. "I don't really talk about fighting. I guess I reckon the best fighters only fight when they have to win," was her rather oblique offering to the conversation.

"I don't know, there's something to be said for practice makes perfect," Jubilee noted, giving Don a blatant once over with her gaze before grinning at Callisto. "Bet you could show this pup a thing or two."

Raising her eyebrows, Callisto glanced at Don consideringly. Then she shrugged. "Maybe."

"You would challenge me in the ring?" Don laughed, his smile white against the blond of his beard. "Then we shall have a test of strength! Arm her!" He called, stepped into the ring. Walt came up with a pair of boxing gloves.

"Shit. You might want to turn him down."

Indeed, when Walt held out the gloves, Callisto did actually hold her hand out to refuse them, rising from her seat.

"Bare knuckle," she said simply, glancing up at Don before looking to her own preparations, stooping down to pull up the leg of her worn jeans, beginning the systematic unstrapping of her ever-present holsters and sheathes of throwing knives from all over her body. It seemed like pretty much everywhere Callisto had clothes, she had knives. She also liberated a pair of knuckle dusters and a rather old and battered zippo lighter from the deep pockets of her worn jeans. By the time she was done, there was a substantial pile of metal and ceramic objects heaped on the battered plastic chair where she'd previously been sitting. Frankly, it was remarkable she didn't clank when she walked.

Walt shrugged. "It's your funeral." He walked back to his seat as she climbed into the ring. Don had taken a moment to shed his shirt and tape his hands. The young man was powerfully built, with a range of club tattoos climbing his arms and back. What was uncommon was that his chest and torso were lacked ink; an oddity amongst the other bikers. He waved Jubilee over as Callisto got ready.

"Young one. When your companion is ready, strike the bell, and we shall begin."

"Sure," she drawled, deliberately not raising her eyebrows at the 'young one' crack, if the guy thought he was Thor, it made sense. She picked up the gong and got ready to sound the start of the bout.

Callisto bounced up onto the balls of her feet, leaning forward just a little, knees bent. Her own hands weren't taped, but then, there'd be little point in that - surface injuries healed quickly enough for her that if she split a knuckle on one punch it would be more or less closed by the next. Still, it was clear from her stance that she wasn't underestimating the large man before her - she was clearly on-guard, clearly waiting to get the measure of the being - man or god - before her.

A couple of easy jabs were slipped, and Don prowled the ring around her. He had a classic style, tight and locked into his right shoulder. The right fist was the danger, and he chased her with it.

Callisto mirrored him, at first, her stance a reflection of his but in miniature, for she was barely half his breadth and over a head shorter in height. She backed off a little and the two began to circle, exchanging feints, fast jabs that met only air, until one of Don's got past, impacting with her left jaw with a force that would've sent a full-grown man flying.

Callisto barely shifted.

In the bemused split second that followed, the slight brunette had ducked beneath Don's guard and drove her left fist into his midsection, fast, and with the full force of her shoulder behind it. The impact came with a hard crunching sound that would've made less hardened spectators wince - it was immediately obvious why Callisto had opted to go without gloves, though, as she pulled back a hand that looked like it must have two dislocated fingers and simply popped them back into place with a wriggle, apparently unmoved by the experience.

Don seemed more surprised than hurt as Callisto pulled back into her defensive stance. He rubbed his torso for a second, and gave her a slight nod. Obviously, the message had been received, and now he started to press her. He had some reach on her, although she seemed to have the slight advantage in speed. But his blows were coming harder, and blocking them to stay behind her guard was taking a toll. He ducked one swing and took a second body blow, in exchange for a right cross that knocked her back into the ropes so hard that she spun inward towards the corner post on them.

Thor waited in the middle of the ring for her.

Jubilee watched the back and forth between the two of them, turning on the small recording device she had hidden as an earring, the wireless receiver stashed in her bag. She'd go over any footage later on to see if there was anything her current observations missed. To anyone else, it merely looked like a nervous tic, possibly concern for Callisto and what was happening in the ring.

"This is about to get interesting," she muttered, half to herself, half to Walt. "Looks like they're done playing with each other."

Callisto lifted away from the ropes, rolling her shoulders, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She looked... well, not worried, exactly. But certainly focussed, brow knitted, stance a picture of concentration. At that moment she was aware of every part of her body, and what it was doing.

The next few minutes banished any question that the outcome of the fight was already decided; it really just came down to when Thor would choose to end it. Callisto was physically formidable, and was not unskilled in technique, either, but no amount of speed or momentum could make up for Thor's superior strength and size and moreover as her movements grew just subtly more deliberate, more careful as her alertness waned, he just didn't seem to tire at all - indeed, he gave every impression that he could do this forever.

He actually gave her a bright smile as she came back, and blocked a jab so hard that it almost numbed her forearm. "You remind me of Sif, mortal." Thor said, as she slipped around two quick jabs.

"Never met him," Callisto said, ducking a swing in place of her usual shrug and, in a last ditch effort that she seemed to know would be to no avail, putting her remaining energy and momentum into what looked to be a thundering left hook, her fist a blur.
Thor caught it, with no more reaction that a brief wince.

They stood there, locked in the tableau for the space of a heartbeat, before he pulled her into a right cross. Callisto hit the ropes so hard that two snapped and the last one flung her to the ground on her face, bells ringing in her head. There was a moment of stunned silence before Don reached down and helped her shakily to her feet.

"You're pretty good." He said quietly as he put her back upright, letting her brace against him for a moment. "Hey Walt, next time, let's put money on her."

"Let's put some ice on her first." Walt motioned Jubilee to help Don get Callisto out of the ring, shaking his head. His next words were so quiet, they were to just himself. "I just wish I knew who threw that last punch."

Callisto was disoriented but conscious, it seemed, careful not to lean too heavily on Jubilee as she arrived at the other woman's side. She lifted a hand to feel her jaw, and then inserted a thumb into her mouth, apparently checking her teeth or perhaps, knowing her, pushing the loosened ones back into place. She caught Jubilee's eye as the withdrew the rather bloodied digit, shooting her a tight but reassuring smile as her gaze went from slightly defocussed and concussed looking to sharp again in - quite literally - the blink of an eye. Beaten up by a God, but doing okay, apparently.

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