Log: Artie and Clea. Self defence lessons.

[xp_artie]

Artie and Clea kill some time waiting for updates re: the Kevin sitch



Artie stood up from his desk, stretching and rubbing his eyes. He needed a break. Needed to move. Needed to not be triaging the rest of the team's work since it was all hands on 'thank god shape shifters didn't die when they were shot in the head'.

He pulled a small bag out from his desk drawer and, after a brief trip to the locker room to change into a shorts and an old hoodie with the sleeves cut off, he tapped on Clea's desk. "We need to talk." He let the words hang over the desk, slightly above the surface of it.

Clea looked up from the file she was organizing and looked over at the words hanging over her desk. "Yes, Artie?" The British girl asked, hoping she didn't screw something up. It was her first job and she knew she had much to learn.

"You're aware that... working here... you're a target, now, right?" There. Don't mince words.

"Ah, yes. It was mentioned that due to the nature of Snow Valley there is the possibility that I would become a target. A high possibility." Clea said, wondering where Artie was trying to lead her with their conversation.

Artie nodded soberly. "Yes. We need to work on the skills you need to stay safe."

Clea blinked at the words and looked up at Artie. "What kind?" Curiosity and exicement was getting the best of her.

He gave a nasty smile. "Well, I find stabbing someone in the kidneys works well but more realistically, we're going to work on teaching you enough that you can get yourself out of a situation and run like hell."

A shiver ran down Clea's spine when she saw his smile. She closed the file and slide it away from her. "Really? You aren't just teasing me?"

He tapped the desk lightly. "Yes. For real. Look, Clea, you're 5'3. You're even tinier than me and I'm 5'4. You don't have any physical enhancements with your mutation and you're a magic user. We have to get you to a point where you'll be safe if you want to work here."

"I am on board with this logic. And maybe one day my appearance can be misleading. Are we starting now?" Clea was ready to change into her gym clothes in her backpack.

"I'll meet you in the gym in five."Artie tossed Clea a closed switchblade. "Here. This is for you and I've got a homework question for you. What happens when you kill someone with your powers?"

Clea quickly held out her hands to catch the switchblade. The homework question made her pause for a second. It was both a terrifying and insightful question. She never actually killed anyone. Picking up her gym bag she headed to the bathroom to change and emerged a few minutes later before making her way to the gym.

He was waiting for her just inside the door and when it opened, Artie swung a padded baton into Clea's stomach before grabbing her with one arm and throwing her across a hip. As she landed, he came down on top, holding a knife to her throat.

Before she could register what happened, Clea was on the ground, the wind was knocked out of her. "Bloody fuck..." Staring up at the face of Artie. "Ow."

Artie gave her a hand up. "Sorry," he said, looking sheepish. "I needed to make sure you remember rule one." The text changed, into a chart with that as the heading. "Rule 1: Never fight fair because other people won't, either."

Clea took his hand and rubbed her head before her stomach once she was standing straight. Quickly she looked over the text that appeared before nodding. "Good rule. I have never fought anything that fought by the rules. Mind you it hasn't been a lot of battles. But what was that move? The one that you did with the tossing and hip."

Artie nodded and smiled. "Give me your arm and I'll show you."

Holding out her arm for Artie to take to show her the demonstration. She had some training with the GenX, but nothing like this. Watching his form as he walked her through the steps. "Am I doing this right?"

"Harder and faster next time but you've got the motion. Try again."

She really didn't want to hurt Artie from doing it improperly or even properly - but still didn't want him to say she was holding back - so she went with the latter with more speed and more hit.

"Better. We'll run through it five more times and then call it quits." And maybe she wouldn't die on them.