milliways_bar | (no subject)

There is a clearing some distance away from the bar which gets set up occasionally as a shooting range. A short time before sunset, a cowboy walks out with a rifle slung over one shoulder and a bag over the other. He paces off a certain number of yards, from the 'line'. Thankfully there is a good sized stump at roughly the distance he wants to shoot.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out several empty soda cans he collected off tables in the Bar earlier, and lines them up in a row, and drops the bag with the spares at the base of the stump before he walks back to the line.

Doc makes sure to check all around the 'range', and jabs a stick with an orange flag in it a few yards in the direction of the bar, to help get people's attention. He'd rather not shoot anything other than the cans.

Soon enough, he's standing tall, sighting the rifle, and pulling the trigger.

The lever-action rifle is loud when it fires, so anyone nearby would have plenty of warning by the sound alone. Every six rounds, he takes a break to reload.

ooc: He is botherable but obviously, get his attention first before you stroll on up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Atton gives him fair warning - Stopping and raising his fists, keeping them steady for a moment or two - before throwing a light, not especially fast punch. It's less a serious attack and more a test of Doc's reflexes.

Doc ducks his head easily, away from the punch, and brings his own arms up, fingers curled into fists, and there's a hint of fire in his eyes.

At least to his credit, he's a good dancer, and steady on his feet.

Atton takes a step back, circling a little before moving in with several punches at Doc's gut. He's got a big grin stretching across his face.

From what Will's told him about Atton, sparring is a favorite past-time of his.

Doc responds to those with a shot to the chest or two when he gets the chance.

Violence in general can probably be put down as one of Atton's favourite pastimes.

Atton blocks, moving to throw a kick at his side.

Which catches him off guard and sends him flying to the ground, grumbling at himself before he hops back up onto his feet and brings his hands up again.

He's better with fists than feet.

Atton paces about him a little, before swinging several punches around at his face.

Doc blocks a few of them but a couple hit their mark, and he shakes it off before letting go with a few of his own, alternating locations like Will taught him to do.

Break up their attention, or try to anyway.

Atton ducks, weaves away and blocks, before dropping down and setting his hands on the ground, sweeping both legs around at Doc's ankles.

Doc?

Doesn't jump fast enough, and ends up falling (forwards) on his hands and feet as he scrambles around and then throws himself at Atton in a tackle.

Atton wasn't so much expecting the tackle. He dives away, rather hastily, sprawling out on the ground for a moment before hopping to his feet, shaking himself off (bad landing is bad) and waiting to Doc.

He's up on his feet in a few seconds and dusts off his hands before he brings them up again.

"You're a hell of a lot faster."

"Well, speed ain't everything." Atton grins, moving in with several light jabs, a couple aimed at his face, a couple at his gut, and a few at his shoulders.

"No," Doc admits, as he ducks a few of the jabs and then tries to pepper his own in where he can find gaps though there aren't many. "It's not."

A good deal of them hit. Atton shakes them off, swinging one fist around at the side of Doc's face, following it up by thrusting one elbow forward at his nose.

When the elbow makes contact, Doc feels his head whip back and then wetness on his face that means he's bleeding, and he brings a hand up and sniffs, before he turns and spits, keeping an eye on Atton the entire time.

Atton waits for Doc to strike back, relaxing his stance a little and not looking terribly concerned about the bleeding. After all, Atton fully intends to heal any injuries he gives Doc.

Another few sniffs and then Doc rolls his neck around a little, ignoring the bleeding himself before he brings his hands up into fists again and goes on the offensive, a few punches, and then a kick aimed at his legs.

Atton blocks the punches, but goes down with the kick, landing on his back. A moment later, he hops to his feet, giving Doc a big grin before throwing several hard punches his way, a few at his stomach and a few at his face.

Doc's not planning on giving up, even if he does end up tired and hurting in a hundred different places when this is over.

Of course, not planning on giving up doesn't factor in a hard right, and he stumbles backwards before he regains his footing and tries to shake the cobwebs out.

Atton moves after him, but at a fairly slow, casual pace, jabbing lightly at his shoulder.

"Where'd you learn to fight? If y'don't mind me askin'."

Doc appreciates the casual pace, for the time being.

"Learned t'brawl at least passably well on the streets of Coruscant, and then, later ..." He pauses, tilting his head, "S'kinda a long story, actually, and y'might not be too chuffed with me if y'hear it. I mean, can still tell you, if y'want."

"Well ain't like I'm some highstandin' member of society myself," Doc offers.

"Oh, no, I mean, me neither. Thief and outlaw. But ..." Atton keeps jabbing, but he doesn't seem to be especially focused on the sparring. "Long story short, there was a war, and I was on the wrong side - Learned t'fight as part of training t'be a kriffin' assassin."

Beat.

"In my defence, they spent a lot of time torturing and brainwashing me first, but still ... s'a bad thing t'do. Thieving is one thing, but assassinating people is way worse on the scale of moral not-goodness."

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