^Un{Courteous}^[Sailor]

[Loony]

[presto][/presto]

The smell of perspiration and testosterone swirl through the air as I make my way through the gym. There is a whirlwind of activity and sounds, from knifes whistling as they tumble gracefully through the air, to the firm thuds of spears piercing a dummy. Its amazing just how much violence and carnage can occur within such a confined space. I walk quietly, head down, eyes focussed on my dress shoe-covered feet. My strides are large, as I hurry to get changed into proper work out gear. I rushed here from a family gathering, not caring what I would look like with a buttoned shirt and khaki pants. It was too much, all the blabber about our dead relatives and boasting of skills. I could not stand to be around those people. I rushed out without a word, to the snickers of some of my relatives. They rejoice in the opportunity to bully the retard. I wasn't sure where my feet were taking me until I stood on the steps of the training center. This is the place to be at home, to truly feel as though I am accepted. It is lucky that I spend so much of my time here, because I have a change of clothes in my locker.

With a skip in my step I head towards the knifes. They will always be my favorite weapon, small and intimidating at first glance, but always able to pack a punch. I hold them tightly as I prepare to launch them towards the unsuspecting mannequin, the coolness of the metal is quickly diminished by the warmth of my hands. I hold on tightly as I thumb at the blade, drawing just a drop of blood. My mind slows down as my vision tunnels into the target, the carefully painted center of the heart. With a quick arm flick the knife enters, ensuring death for the dummy. Its hard to imagine something so fake like this dummy collapsing and dying, but I try. I imagine the faceless figure falling to the ground, pushing large tears out of its inexistent eyes and taking its final breath. Its almost gruesome to imagine. Its thoughts like these that cause me to be treated like a freak. What sane person imagines an inanimate object dying? But they keep me satisfied, the strangeness of my mind is something that scientist would probably kill to observe. With a small smile I take aim again, and brain the dummy. The world disappears around me, instead I am intent on dismembering the mannequin. Knife after knife fly through the air, each dancing its own jig before draining imaginary blood from the dummy.

My mind is too focussed on the untimely death of the figure to acknowledge the person waiting for the throwing range. They do not matter to me right now, all that counts is the dummy, and with a final grunt I launch the last knife. When it plants itself in the dummy's stomach I go forward and retrieve my knifes. As I take the walk to the dummy, I can feel the last bit of resent and anger present. I need to continue, I need to keep on going. Instead of doing the courteous thing and letting the next person start, I reposition myself and begin to launch knifes again. I just need to get my anger out.

OOC: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO START!

[ミSailor彡]

EMERY LAYNE

It's been one of those days. Most days are one of those days. The only comfort I find is hearing the gravel beneath my shoes, knowing my path is heading directly for the training center. This morning started with a whirlwind of anger, everything my mother did set me off. The way she breathes, the way she clears her throat before talking, the way she chews the skin off of her bottom lip. It all just sends me into this spiral of annoyance that won't go away until I kill something. And seeing as I can't actually kill anything, for the time being, I'll settle for a mass murder of lifeless dummies at the training center. I step in through those familiar silver doors and close my eyes as the air conditioned air runs over my skin, creating goosebumps along my arms. I open my eyes again and of course, the place is packed. It's never anything else but packed. I find that pit of annoyance come rising back up through my throat, wishing I could just spit toxic fire onto all these worthless, wannabe careers and have the place to myself.  

I scan each station, attempting to find the shortest line. I was hoping to get some time in at the archery station, but there were at least seven or eight people crowding around it. My second choice would be to practice my swordsmanship but the line there was no better. My eyes find the throwing knives station, the one I'm most familiar with. I've been trying to stay away because I've already practically mastered it and I need to sharpen my skills in other areas but theres no line behind one of the boys who's just finished throwing a set. I speed walk to the area, hoping no one jumps my spot in line. Making it there uninterrupted, I plant my feet as if expecting someone to try to move me. 

I watch as the boy ahead of me seems to walk in slow motion to retrieve his knives. I'm patient at first, which isn't normal for me, knowing that once he grabs the knives he'll hand them right over to me. But as he heads back, he doesn't even look my way. Instead, he turns back around, knife in hand, readying himself for another round. I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms as I tap my foot impatiently. In the time that this guy has "readied" himself for his next throw, I would have been finished already. My anger would have already flown off with the knives, died with the dummy, and I could move on. Instead, it seems as though he's purposely taking his time. I know he knows I'm here, I make sure of it by tapping my foot louder and rudely clearing my throat every so often. I let out the biggest exasperated sigh that I can muster, doing as much as I can to let this guy know that I'm annoyed and I'm in a hurry. Realizing that either this guy is deaf or just a plain old jackass, I ready myself to speak. I raise my voice and steady my tone to confirm he takes me seriously.


"I'm sorry, but are you going to be throwing that knife anytime soon? Or are we going to be here all day?"



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[Loony]

[presto][/presto]

As I stare intently at the target, a voice drifts it way to my attention. With a start I step back, and turn towards the source. The girl has short hair and an even shorter temper. Her words tell me she is evenless than pleased."I'm sorry, but are you going to be throwing that knife anytime soon? Or are we going to be here all day?" I pause, knife still in my hand, and look at her. My mind quickly assess my movements, no slower than usual. Perhaps it is my rudeness, and refusal to give her control of the range. I know that I should give her the knifes and walk away, but at this point I really don't give a rats ass if she wants to throw knifes. I spent years letting people push me around, and I am so sick of it.

Ares taught me long ago that it was best to take a deep breath before throwing a knife. He explained it help release the nerves one feels, and allows them to focus entirely on the target. Now, I struggle to catch my breath as I shoot a glance at the annoyed girl and turn to the dummy. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. And the knife dances its way, tumbling and spinning before landing solidly within the head of the dummy. My lips pull up into a smile, and I turn towards the girl. Her brash personality is something I could never have, but I have defied her. In the smallest possible way I have stood up to the list of people who push me around. I smile wide.

"Sometimes it's best to take a moment and focus." I smile as these words pass my lips. She clearly doesn't understand the best way to go about things is with patience and clarity. A quick man whose mind is foggy is more likely to stumble than a slow man with a clear head. I walk towards her, proud of myself for being so defiant, and hand her over the remaining knifes, with speck of my blood still on them. She seems like the person who will rush, sending knife after knife before waiting for the other to hit. A lot of people here do that, but I have always noticed that they are not as accurate as those who take a moment. In all honesty, I'm sure this girl is great with knifes, in fact almost everyone here is a master at knife throwing. But I want my brief moment of victory to last. "Here, although I doubt you can do better."
 

[ミSailor彡]

EMERY LAYNE

My questions go unanswered, other than a quick glance from the boy. I watch his chest rise and fall as he takes in a few sharp breaths before plowing the knife into the dummy's head. I roll my eyes, becoming even more annoyed than before. I was hoping he would miss and fail embarrassingly so I would have something to mock him for. Unfortunately, he is, in fact, skilled to say the least. He glances back over to me with the slightest grin, "Sometimes it takes a moment and focus." My crossed arms hug tighter around myself as I feel the condescending tone ring through my ears. He finally makes his way towards me, handing the knives to me. I snatch them hastily as he remarks, "Here. Although, I doubt you can do better."

I feel my cheeks burn up, knowing I've probably turned a couple extra shades of red. But no, not from embarrassment. It doesn't take much to make me angry, especially these days. You could look at me the wrong way and you could very well earn yourself a black eye or bruised rib. But how dare this guy, this guy, question my skills? He doesn't know me. He doesn't know the things I've done. Not just to dummies, but to people. He doesn't know but he may just find out. Without missing a beat, a few bends and twists of my arms launches three of the knives directly towards the dummy. I hear the loud, forceful thumps that follow and see that all three of my knives found fatal areas that would be sure to put a living target's lights out for good. The throat, the heart, and the crotch. I laugh to myself at the last one, hoping this action would emasculate my new little friend over there. A knife to the crotch may not be exactly fatal, but it may as well be. At least for a guy. Without even looking back towards him, I say,

"Slow and steady doesn't always win the race."

I proudly strut towards the dummy, exaggerating the strength it takes to pull the knives from the inanimate body. Intimidation has always been my strong point. If I can't scare you with my words, I'll scare you with my actions. I have the bark to follow the bite and there's never been a time when I was afraid to use it. As I walk back with the knives, I make it a point to not break eye contact with my soon to be opponent. If anything, I always enjoy competition. Never friendly competition, though. Dirty, rude, no holds barred kind of competition. And with just a few words, he just invited himself to a grudge match. If I could, I'd take him down myself. But if anything, I've learned place and time matters. This will have to be a competition against dummies. I stare him down for a moment, taking in his features. Clean cut, brown hair, slicked back. Serious eyes, strong jaw, broad shoulders. I shove the knives back into his arms, pausing for a moment before I let out another small chuckle.



"No, I'd like to see you do better."



+

[Loony]

[presto][/presto]

As I hand her the knifes I study her face. A splash of freckles coats a pair of reddening cheeks, which I recognize as anger, and a pair of intimidating brown eyes. She walks with a stride so unlike a typical girl, almost demanding attention as she makes her way to the range, defiance leaking from her pores. My smile fades as she launches three knifes in quick succession, and all find less than kind locations. The third one lands in the crotch, a less than appetizing thought, but the other two hit the throat and the heart. I am impressed, but know that she is only proving the point I am attempting to make.

My smile grows as she turns back and spits out, "Slow and steady doesn't always win the race." With her powerful strides she heads to the dummy. I must give the girl credit for having guts, its very unlikely to find a girl as tough as the boys in this particular district, but it looks like I've found a needle in a haystack. She glares at me the entire time, for a second I worry she might be taking this all too serious. The thought quickly fades away, because a little friendly competition is nothing to get too bent out of shape about. She yanks the knifes from the dummy and walks back. As she hands me the knifes I study her strong jawline, the tiny freckle, and muscular figure, showing years of training. I notice her doing the same to me. She gives a little chuckle, and I smile back.

"No, I'd like to see you do better." I take the challenge with open arms and begin to set myself up. I plant my feet and turn to the range. I take one last glance at the girl, and return my gaze to the dummy. Her arrogance has proven my point, because just about anyone can strike a dummy in a vital area, its not as difficult as it seems. But being a consistent threat is better than being unruly and sporadic. 

"Its not about-" I raise my arm and launch a knife, letting it sink into the torso of the dummy, "-one knife." I toss another, and let it land within a few inches of the other, "Its about-" and with that I throw the final knife with all my might, and watch it quiver between the other two. I turn to her and release a small chuckle to mimic hers. "-all of them." 

I walk as slow as possible to retrieve the knifes, letting her boil in her own thoughts. I enjoy things like this, these moments when I almost feel normal, when I can think that I might actually have a chance at having a plain life. This girl has yet to recognize me, and has apparently not heard about my stupidity. Finally I reach the life-sized dummy. It takes a good yank before I can get them out, and then return them too her. I push them into her strong hands, and take a small bow with a good natured smile. "Thank you."

[ミSailor彡]

EMERY LAYNE

I watch as the boy sends the knives flying with such a force I could almost see the blades pushing the air aside. All three knives land side by side on the dummy's torso. My eyebrows raise, as I'm quite intimidated but I do my best to not let it show. He's doing that thing again. That thing where he walks in slow motion. This time I'm sure it's on purpose. He's trying to make me angry, I feel it in the pompous way he walks. For most people, anger is a weakness. It blinds them, throws them off balance, and leaves them defenseless. It's quite the opposite for me. It builds me up, makes me stronger, it's my armor. The boy pushes the knives back into my hand and tilts himself downwards into a bow, "Thank you."

I'm smoldering at this point. Jackass, jackass, jackass. This pompous jackass. Why does everyone feel the need to try to show me up? No one knows how to take defeat anymore, they all want to drag it on until theres nothing but shred left. Little do they know, I always win. He wants precision? True accuracy? I smirk at the sight of his accomplished grin. That familiar "i've already won" look. I don't need words for my next actions to come. I sharply turn and let the knives fly from my finger tips. One after another the follow the exact course that his travelled. They take their spots, all three landing not even an inch apart from each other on the dummy's chest. I hold up a finger, in a 'wait, there's more' fashion and motion him over to the dummy. I place my hands on the knives handles and, as gently as I can, remove them to not disturb the dummy's entrance wounds. I pull all three to reveal that they all landed in the precise spots that the boys knives did previously. There were no extra marks across the dummy's chest. Six knives thrown, three slits across the plastic. 

I turn back towards him, honestly trying to hide my excitement from actually completing that feat. I wasn't completely sure it would work out the way I wanted to, but I held myself up as if I knew the whole time. I smile, and with an unnaturally sweet tone, I say,

"I suggest you go now. Only big kids play here."

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