station72 | mental link, day 32

Entry tags:

mental link, day 32

[ Sam crashed hard after the vigil, because between all the lies making him feel like he was going to puke and trying to pick them apart giving him one mother of a headache, staying awake felt like something you only do if you really hate yourself.

Do all newfound psychic powers suck this bad? He was fine with just flying and blowing things up, thanks. ]

( By the way, just figured everybody should know: Seong-Hye Ngazi is full of crap, the Public Safety Commission isn't half as gung-ho about bringing the bomber to justice as she makes it sound, and I'm like ninety percent she actually knows who did it, but that part I'm not quite positive about.

So, you know. In case anybody wanted to break into her office or stalk her or something. I hear some of you guys are actually good at the cloak and dagger stuff.

You're welcome. )

[ He can be found in the common area of the Bearings, scrolling through news reports and radiating pure frustration, if anyone would rather comment to his face instead of over the link. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He looks at him with consideration, once again feeling the growing frustration lapping at his feet. Sam does look like he needs to blow off some steam -- may as well guarantee that it's in a productive way.]

...I have time now.

[ That surprises him a little, since he assumed he was going to be somewhere low on the priority list, but hey, he'll take it. ]

Really?

Cool. Thanks.

Don't thank me yet.

[Bruce won't exactly be the most lenient instructor, but he's willing to help Sam learn if he lets him.]

Meet me on the rooftop, ten minutes from now.

[And he turns to leave, because he's going to find something a bit less restrictive to wear, other than a two piece business suit.]

[ Well, that's ominous.

But whatever, it's not like Bruce can do anything worse to him than he's already taken. Get punched literally halfway around the world and everything else feels a lot less intimidating in comparison. ]

Got it.

[Ten minutes later, Bruce can be found on the roof of the Bearings, as promised. He's no longer in his business suit, though what passes as "casual" for Bruce Wayne still reeks with traces of formality; dark slacks and a slightly less starched-looking dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, is his choice of clothing for now.

He stands near the railing, eyes briefly glancing out towards the city skyline while he wordlessly waits.]

[ Sam didn't change, but he didn't really need to; he practically lives in t-shirts anyway. He makes his way over, stopping just short of where Bruce is waiting, and stretches his arms behind his head. ]

I think I'm gonna be sick of that view by the time we get to leave this rock.

[ He spends a lot of time looking at it, but it's not the kind of sky he prefers. He likes the view from orbit, he likes where there's no light pollution to get in the way of the stars.

He hasn't even been here for a month and being grounded is painful. ]

[He turns when he hears Sam's footsteps, looking at the teen as he remarks on the view.

For Bruce, overlooking a sprawling city is a familiar feeling, and he should find this comforting, but he doesn't. It's so obviously not his city, and every little thing reminds him of it. The grid is all displaced, the cross streets in all the wrong places. It buzzed with an technological energy that Gotham lacked, it was alive in an different kind of way.

And so:]

I think I agree with you. But you might have to get used to it for a while longer yet.

Yeah. I know.

[ He's just thrilled.

But Sam's used to resigning himself to being stuck in shitty situations for a while, since that's most of his life right there, really. So he's stuck in a bad place for a while. What else is new? ]

[Well, at least Bruce is going to attempt to redirect that obvious frustration his way. It'll help clear his head, and maybe sort out his focus, instead of spending long afternoons scrolling through news reports to no avail.

So enough with the small talk. (All 5 seconds of it.)] Let's get started.

[Bruce makes some distance between himself and Sam, few yards away.] I want to see what you know. Try to hit me, as hard as you can.

[ There's a pause before Sam lunges in for the hit, but only a short one. Sam's dad didn't manage to teach him a lot, but one of the things he did show him, at some point when he wasn't drunk off his ass, was how to throw a punch. His form's not great, but it's not bad, either.

His dad did not, on the other hand, manage to teach him much in the way of strategizing or psyching opponents out or...anything other than going in headfirst, really, because acting first and thinking later is apparently an inherited trait in the Alexander family.

He doesn't require any convincing to put everything he's got into it, though. If there's one thing Sam's never had a problem with, it's going all out. ]

[Sam's form is certainly solid, and it's obvious that he's putting in a sincere effort, which is something that Bruce can't fault him for. But rushing in headfirst without thinking is something the man has seen time and time again; Sam's movements are predictable, from his shift in center mass to where he decides to plant his feet when he throws a punch directed at Bruce.

He moves to the side, twisting out of the way in a practiced sort of motion. The punch connects with little more than air, and Bruce just lets Sam's unchecked momentum finish the job for him.]

[ - whoa, he's falling he's falling he's -

Ow. Come on, ground, he needs that face. ]

[Sam will definitely be hearing Bruce's criticisms while he's pulling himself off the ground...]

Too predictable. Rushing in without thinking isn't going to work against someone who can read you like an open book.

[ He's grumpy. And frustrated. It's rolling off him even more intensely than usual. But he doesn't argue as he gets to his feet, even if he looks like he'd like to. ]

So how do I not be predictable.

[Bruce can definitely feel that. He's having to make a mental effort to deflect it, walls coming up just enough so he doesn't borrow some of that frustration for himself. He even goes the extra mile to offer a bit of calm and focus to the boy, even though it clashes with Sam's impulsiveness.

He steps forward once Sam is to his feet, shaking his head.]

You learn to read your opponent, learn how they fight, learn how they expect you to react. [But that sort of higher level cognition is only achieved by mastering the basics, and so:] Let me see your stance.

[ He shuffles his feet back to where he had them before he tried to move in - left forward, right back, weight carried a little more backwards than forwards. ]

[A right-handed stance, then, which would fall in line with Sam's previous punch. It's a good start, but only half of one.]

Arms up, knees bent. [come on dude]

[ sir yes sir

He gets his arms up and bends his knees. He's not quite sure how far, but there's a point that definitely feels more comfortable to stop at, so he'll assume that's it.

And hey, if he's off it's not like he won't know in like the next point five seconds anyway. ]

[He'd be right about that, at least. Bruce doesn't hesitate to reach out and adjust Sam's arms; fists a little higher, elbows a little closer to his body, left forearm extended slightly more than the right. He gives the boy a moment to take in the adjustments, allow it to settle into memory.

But the moment is brief. Bruce steps back, shifting his weight and raising his own forearms, intending them to take the brunt of his next command.]

Now, hit me.

[ He's not sure it helps much with telegraphing what he's doing, but the change in his stance does help with building momentum, and it's noticeable to him the moment he starts moving.

Doing this with Nova's speed behind it could get pretty ridiculous.

But he doesn't have the helmet on, so he's only got his own speed - decent, he's more built for that than power, but not superhuman. ]

[The telegraphing is a problem for later; let him get his form down first, Bruce thinks, and worry about something a little more advanced for the future.

Bruce's forearms certainly sturdy enough to take the hit, and every punch is silently critiqued in both weight and form.]

Is that all?

[Come on, Sam, he felt that frustration in you; redirect it, comes the thought, spilling past Bruce's mental barrier, free to echo in the teen's head.]

[ His forearms are probably like the size of Sam's thighs; he definitely doesn't need to worry about holding back.

And he's not, consciously, but then, he's had this conversation before, hasn't he? With the first clone, when he was sure the second one was stronger than him, and -

No, he's not. Stop holding back.

Nothing makes his temper flare up like thinking about that thing with his father's face, and in the next punch, it shows. ]

[He doesn't have to even try for the image of... something, a face he doesn't recognize, flickering through his mind. Behind the self-imposed shield of his arms, Bruce frowns at an image that clearly isn't his.

At nearly the exact same moment, Sam's forceful punch connects, and it's a hard hit. The kind that may leave a bruise, but that's exactly what Bruce had been going for, for the teen to twist some of that carried frustration into motivation, to sharpen it into focus.

Granted, they're a long way before achieving that, but it's a good start.]

Good. [~~gasp, a compliment~~ Bruce straightens from his defensive position, shaking out his left arm a bit, which had been hit by the brunt of the force.] Whatever it is you're keeping bottled up in there, turn it into something that you can use, like just now.

[ There's a flicker of surprise; he didn't think "good" was in Bruce's vocabulary.

But hey, he'll take it. ]

So, everything, basically.

[ It's delivered like sarcasm, although the underlying feeling is...actually fairly serious. ]

[Bruce is observant enough to hear what's underlying that layer of sarcasm.]

Everything? [The smallest quirk of a brow, which says "explain". Talk about your frustrations, tiny Sam, else he may think you're exaggerating.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject