[b][u]February 1st, 0437 HRS
Lycus Hall, room 312[/u][/b]

Malcolm’s nose twitched a little. As he lay there, staring up at the coral-plated ceiling of his bedroom, eyes uncharacteristically glazed over.

Scorched hair.

Burning meat.

A faint, phantom burning in his nostrils, lungs and eyes he’d long since learned to associate spent napalm.

The boy’s eidetic memory was wreaking havoc on his own psyche to the tune of some demented internal clock. Counting down to the exact second a moment it would never allow him to forget, no matter how much time had passed. Forcing into his mind emphatic echoes of some trauma six years past in vivid detail- all the sights, the smells, the sounds… [i]the [b]rage.[/b][/i]

A low grunt rattled in the boy’s throat as he forced himself upwards and off his bed, roughly throwing on his clothes and snatching up his gym bag.

Malcolm had been awake for exactly forty seven seconds today, and he was already pissed off.

[i]It was his birthday, after all.[/i]

[hr]

[indent][b][u]Argos Gymnasium, University District, Poseidonis, 
February 1st, 0945 HRS[/u][/b][/indent]

[b]BANG! CACHINK! BANG-BANG! CACHINK![/b]

Gotta love the Atlanteans; they’re an adaptive people.

[b]BANG! CACHINK! BANG![/b]

So quick to realize the merits of a leather sack filled with sand hanging from the ceiling you could [i]beat the hell out of.[/i]

[b]BANG! BANG! BANG! CACHINK![/b]

Something Malcolm would’ve been immensely thankful for had he the mind for it right now; eyes vacant and face twisted into an unreadable, inhuman expression as he zealously slammed his bloodied fists into the rapidly-ailing sack of animal flesh before him with intensity that hadn’t waned in the slightest in the past four hours.

He should probably be in class, or studying right now.

He was probably going to have to apologize to Ms. Argos, the gym owner later.

...He also probably should’ve [i]ate[/i] something today.

But today, at least, Malcolm didn’t give a shit.

Because Malcolm wasn’t there.

Because the lights were on, but no one was home.


[color=orchid]”I might have to arrest you for animal abuse at this rate,”[/color] said a familiar voice, near the doorway. Karen stood there, a pair of boxing gloves under her arm. She didn’t seem terribly surprised at the small pile of battered punch bags off in the corner. [color=orchid]”You know that those are gym property, right? Zoey didn’t pay for them.”[/color]

Stepping towards him, she set her gloves down on a nearby chair. Her movements had become noticeably less awkward than when she had first arrived here, now merely resembling somebody that was dealing with a mild case of post-workout soreness. Claiming another seat beside her gloves, she began to carefully tape up her hands with boxing wraps. It seemed like she still remembered how to do that, at least.

[color=orchid]”I’ve been looking for you all morning, you know,”[/color] she muttered. [color=orchid]”I should’ve guessed you were here.”[/color]

[b]BANG! PFFFSSSSHHH...![/b]

And another bag bit the dust.

[color=orangered]”Cassiopeia Argos is a friend of mine. I helped her [i]open[/i] this place.”[/color] Malcolm replied, perhaps a bit more tersely than necessary as he stared down at a growing pile of sand at his feet for what must have been about the fourth time today. [color=orangered]”I’ll make it up to her.”[/color]

Unchaining the now-thoroughly destroyed remnants of the bag from it’s mount and tossing it off to the side with all the others with an uncharacteristic roughness, Mal spoke again, still not facing the blonde behind him as he moved to go find another unfortunate bag to annihilate.

[color=orangered][b]”What do you want?”[/b][/color]

Karen had finished taping up her hands by this point, and was now working on lacing up up one of the black boxing gloves she had brought with her. Where she had bought them was unclear, but they appeared to be brand new, given their crisp sheen. [color=orchid]”I thought that exerting myself a little might help me feel a bit more comfortable in this body.”[/color]

[color=orchid]”Also, I wanted to wish you a ‘happy birthday’, like I always do,”[/color] she added, standing from her chair and approaching the clearly strung-out teenager. Raising one of her now-gloved hands, she tilted her head to the side. [color=orchid]”Lace me up, please.”[/color]

A raised brow followed that statement, notably absent of the usual humour that went with it. But still, Malcolm complied.

[color=orangered]”Not a bad idea.”[/color] The boy admitted, voice still cold but at the very least not outright [i]hostile[/i] anymore as his hands worked the laces on her glove- apparently not at all hindered by their self-induced harm [color=orangered]”Best way to get used to having a human body again is probably to actually [i]use it.[/i]”[/color] 

Another brow raise followed as he finished, giving the glove a few experimental tugs to make sure it was snugged on just right.

[color=orangered]”...Though, had I known you were coming, I might not’ve [i]destroyed so much of the equipment.”[/i][/color]

Ah, there it was. Just a slight tinge of the usual Mal.

...Even if it [i]did[/i] take about four hours to rear it’s head.

[color=orchid]”Thanks,”[/color] she said, turning to face the newly hung bag. Placing her glove against it to gauge her distance, she seemed a bit unfamiliar with their weight. Nevertheless, she assumed the ready stance she had learned during her years of training with Ted in Pankration. Aiming for the “body” of the bag, she unloaded a series of hard punches with made a distinct [i]BANG[/i], albeit quieter than Mal’s had been.

She then unloaded a hard kick on it, to far greater effect. Punch, punch, punch, punch, kick—that seemed to be her preferred routine. [color=orchid]”It’s ridiculous, how weak I am right now. I can barely even move this thing.”[/color]

[color=orangered]”Well, it’d help if you remembered to [i]breathe[/i] when you’re throwing a punch.”[/color]

Karen immediately exhaled, glancing over at Mal. [color=orchid]”...I keep forgetting. I’m still used to not having to breathe, [i]period.”[/i][/color]

A slight twitch of Malcolm’s eye followed that statement as he slowly backed away and undid his soiled handwraps, fishing through his bag for more gauze.

[color=orangered]”Well, I guess being empowered by seven Gods will do that to ya.”[/color] Mal stated coolly, as he got to work replacing the bandages around his fists and wrists, not sparing a thought about the gummed-up state of his hands [color=orangered]”Make you forget all about [i]the basics.”[/i][/color]

Giving his freshly re-wrapped hands a few experimental squeezes, the scarred teen gave his work an affirmative nod of ‘Good enough’... before reaching into his bag again and pulling out a pair of slightly worn-looking leather punch mitts.

[color=orangered]”Get in the damned ring.”[/color]

Karen quirked her brow for a moment, having clearly noticed his injured hands. She nevertheless complied, ascending the stairs of the boxing ring and pulling down the middle rope to squeeze through. [color=orchid]”It’s been a while since we practiced together.”[/color]

[color=orangered][i]”Clearly.”[/i][/color] 

Came Malcolm’s terse reply as he cast a quick glance around the gym to make sure they were actually alone, before pulling out the capsule for his glow-hiding contacts and removing them from his noggin- it probably wouldn’t end well if Karen inadvertently put a shiner on his face with them in after all- and climbed the stairs to the ring, mitts held in one hand as his other simply clapped down on top of the corner post and heaved the whole of his body over the ropes with his considerable strength and bodily coordination.

[color=orangered]”Well, Kare-Bear…”[/color] He spoke again, voice still not entirely clear of the sharpness it’d held all day, but somewhat getting there. As he shoved the leather mitts on and got into something resembling a ready-stance, those familiar fiery orange eyes locked onto the blonde for the first time in eight months [color=orangered]”...Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”[/color] 

Karen immediately raised her fists, looking not too dissimilar to the boxing stance that Mal had been using only moments before. Pankration, after all, represented the ancient origins of what was modern boxing. Her eyes narrowed on his mits, she began to unleash one swift jab after another into them, occasionally throwing a full-on hook in for good effect.

Compared to her movements eight months prior, she was definitely a lot stiffer. There was clearly too much thought given to each attack. Perhaps it was simply due to her lingering unfamiliarity with her human body, or perhaps Lady Arcana was simply so impossibly fast that she seldom had to test her reflexes.

[color=orchid]”Do you want me to kick, or no?”[/color]

[color=orangered]”Do you [i]ask permission[/i] in a fight?”[/color] Came Mal’s simple, mildly irritated response.

Karen stared at him for only a moment before sending a straight kick right into his left mit. She then continued with her succession of jabs and hooks, now occasionally mixing a hard kick in with the set. It was only after several rounds of this that she proved that to have taken Mal’s words to heart, quickly moving forward to seize the other teen’s arm and throw him down onto the mat with a hip toss.

[color=orchid]”...I figured throws were alright, too,”[/color] said Karen, breathing audibly.

[color=orangered]”Better.”[/color]

Mal, to his credit, though he saw that hip toss coming a mile away by reading the nerve-endings and contractions of Karen’s muscles, allowed it to happen… before shifting his body mid-air to land face-down, catching himself on his mitts before immediately spinning around and sweeping at her feet with his heel, not even showing the slightest hint of fatigue from his previous four hours exertion as he shot back to his feet barely a moment afterward.

[color=orangered]”But still sloppy. [i]Again.[/i]”[/color]

Karen landed on her back, staring up at Mal with a modest frown. Pushing herself up off the mat with her elbows, she resumed her boxing stance. [color=orchid]”Well, I’m eight months out of practice, after all.”[/color]

Continuing to mix up her strikes, kicks, and throws, Karen’s forehead eventually glistened with tiny jewels of sweat. It seemed the stamina of Karen Hernandez paled in comparison to that of Atlas, as she was panting rather heavily after “only” an hour of practice. A large drop of sweat slithered down her nose, dangling briefly from the tip before falling.

[color=orchid]”How do you...keep this up for four hours straight?”[/color] she huffed.

At that, Mal’s mitted hand shot forward… and gave Karen a tiny little boop on the nose with the room of his padded palm.

[color=orangered]”Practice.”[/color] He answered harshly, still remarkably calm and at ease, even through all his exertion [color=orangered]”And [i]motivation.”[/i][/color] 

Lowering his hands and removing his mitts, the boy gave the exhausted Karen an appraising scan with his unnatural eyes before turning on his heel and heading for the edge of the ring.

[color=orangered]”Let’s take five. Despite what all that shounen manga we read as kids taught us, [i]training until you puke isn’t particularly productive.”[/i][/color]

[color=orchid]”Right,”[/color] said Karen, sitting down onto the mat near the edge as well. She had clearly not trained [i]this[/i] hard for quite some time. She had always kept up her skills, but was never really pushed to achieve the levels of physical perfection that the Grim family had attained.

After all, she had the power of the Gods instead.

Magically summoning her water bottle to her outstretched hand, Karen took a long drink from the straw. [color=orchid]”I forgot to stretch, I’m now realizing. Ouch.”[/color]

A little snort escaped Mal at that, as he got on his belly, reached over the edge of the mat and fished his own drink out of his bag- a local favourite sealed in a magitech self-cooling can- and rolled back on his ass to sit beside his erstwhile training partner.

[color=orangered]”Was gonna wait and see how long it took ya to figure that one out.”[/color] The scarred teenager explained plainly, just a hint of his usual charm forcing it’s way through the heavy murk of whatever it was that bothered him every year on this day. [color=orangered]”...On a scale of one to ten of hindsight and regret you’re probably around an… [i]eight[/i], am I right?”[/color]

Karen nodded, rolling her shoulder with a slight wince. When you didn’t stretch before a workout session, it would often leave you with muscles that felt like they were trying to tie themselves in a knot. A glance at her calve showed that it had assumed a rather unattractive shape in that moment.

[color=orchid]”What a terrible feeling,”[/color] she noted, flexing her leg. [color=orchid]”I suppose that, too, is just a part of being human again.”[/color]

Glancing down at Karen’s leg for a moment and letting out something that almost sounded like a grunt of annoyance, Mal gently seized hold of the very clearly cramping extremity and pulled it over into his lap, spinning the blonde around on her magic little behind as well.

He did, however, have the presence of mind to fix the girl with a mildly mirthful glance before he got to work pressing on the nerves in her calf to ease the tension in her muscles.

[color=orangered]”Not a word to Ophelia- [i]We’d never hear the end of it.”[/i][/color]

Karen smirked slightly. [color=orchid]”She actually asked about us. She seemed quite relieved to learn that we’re not an ‘item’.”[/color]

[color=orangered]”Don’t doubt that.”[/color] Mal replied with a little smirk of his own even as his hands went about his task [color=orangered]”Call it a blessing or a curse, but I can see people’s brains at work.”[/color]

A little hum built in his throat as he shifted his middle finger to apply pressure to another nerve ending on the other side of her calf.

[color=orangered]”And Miss Angelo-Blyth was looking [i]miiiiiighty hungry[/i] when talking to you.”[/color]

Karen gently shook her head at this, scooting back against the corner of the ring. [color=orchid]”I could say the same with you and Hannah, though hers seemed more akin to a schoolgirl crush. She seems rather cloistered.”[/color]

They were roommates, after all.

[color=orangered]”Should’ve seen the look on her face when she first realized who I was-”[/color] Mal mused as he gave Karen’s calf a few last little squeezes and presses before releasing his hold on the extremity. [color=orangered]”-Thought the poor girl was gonna have a heart attack.”[/color]

Popping his knuckles as he finished, Mal draped his arms over the ropes and leaned backward, exhaling slightly.

[color=orangered]”All done, ya should be good to go now.”[/color] 

Karen nodded, climbing to her feet and kicking the tip of her toe against the mat several times to test out her leg. [color=orchid]”Want to go another round, and then maybe grab something to eat? I’m guessing you haven’t had anything all morning.”[/color]

[color=orangered]”Warned you about that Atlantean Cuisine, didn’t I?”[/color]