(no subject)

[cute_bruiser]

After the fight with the Hulk, one thing that occurred to Molly is that somewhere along the line, between the thirty-six-hour days and the robot battles and the impromptu foster-momming, she's lost far too much of the endurance she'd spent so much work building up before... well, before everything.

So she's got a punchbag set up out the back and is steadily pummelling away at it, over and over and over again. She's in sensible gym clothes and her hands are carefully taped up, because she's not using her powers; she's not trying to break anything, just to keep going.

She's not going to object to talking, though.

[OOC: Open til forever!]

Comments

[1nv1nc1ble]

Invincible is on his way out to the Back Yard, to enjoy an afternoon that's a good 30 degrees cooler than his native Riverside, when he sees a figure that he last saw getting stuck in with the Not-So-Jolly Green Giant. He wanders over, surveying the repairs to the gardens as he goes. "Hey," he says by way of introduction, "you were in that fight a couple days ago, right? With the big green dude?"

[cute_bruiser]

She catches the bag with both hands as it swings back, carefully steadying it before she turns to face him.

"Guilty as charged," she says: friendly enough, but more reserved than most normally find her. She'll talk about it, but he might find the topic getting shut down abruptly depending on what he asks.

(Protective streak a mile wide? Her? ...Well, possibly.)

[1nv1nc1ble]

"Nicely done," he says. "The green guy was a wrecking machine." He holds out a hand. "I'm Invincible."

[cute_bruiser]

She shrugs.

"Not always," she says, and there's a very odd note in her voice but she shakes his hand anyway. "I'm Molly - although if it's battle names we're trading, they usually call me Arsenal these days. Sorry about the wraps."

They don't make for the nicest handshake in the world.

[1nv1nc1ble]

"No problem," says Invincible, shaking. "I use the bags inside. Better than bruised fingers."

"So, you know him?" he asks.

[cute_bruiser]

"I like it out here."

It's cooler, and there's a breeze; right now, LA is hot and humid and stifling.

"We're friends," she tells him.





"Did you see how it ended?"

[1nv1nc1ble]

"No, but one of the folks in the garden - Urquhart, I think he said his name was - told me that he'd calmed down and shrank down to normal size." Invincible pauses, and then asks, tactfully, "Does that happen to him often?"

[cute_bruiser]

Well, in that case he's not going to be getting Bruce's name today. She knows Milliways's advanced gossipping capabilities well enough to be quite certain that he'll find out exactly who it was sooner rather than later, but when he does it won't be from her.

"Not very often, no." She folds her arm across her chest. "He's nice."



"So am I only getting your callsign? Because if so, I warn you you're gonna be Vince."

[1nv1nc1ble]

Invincible nods. That's something. He's not Security, but rampaging monsters are something he deals with. He likes to know if something like that is going to happen again.

Invincible smiles at her question. "That's the name that comes with the mask," he says. "They don't have secret identities where you come from?"

[boyscout]

Clark is in the process of accustoming himself to the bar. He's explored the interior as far as he dares and now the outside area gets a turn. The stables get a quick peek, as does the lake (which he's delighted to see), but the girl determinedly working on her punching technique catches his immediate attention. The newcomer wanders up and leans against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest.

He watches for a few minutes, in no hurry to break her concentration. Eventually, though, he speaks up. "Can anyone join in or is this a private walloping?"

[cute_bruiser]

She's been aware of being watched, but one of the benefits of being functionally invulnerable is that even here, she is really very hard to unnerve.

When the new guy speaks, though, she doesn't hesitate to catch the bag and slow it to a stop before turning to grin at him.

"Well, I wasn't issuing invites, but I'm not gonna turn you down." Something about him is kind of familiar, but only very vaguely. "Although you might find yourself surprised."

[boyscout]

Clark smiles back automatically, expression shifting from cautious to open in a matter of seconds.

"Oh, I meant at the bag. The way you were landing those punches, something would end up broken if we sparred."

[cute_bruiser]

Molly laughs, eyes dancing. "Nothing of mine would, trust me."

She gives the bag an 'after you' sort of gesture. "But be my guest."

[boyscout]

He shoots her an uncertain look, halfway assuming she isn't being serious. She's practically tiny for God's sake. "That's some confidence."

Probably. He nods and leans away from the tree trunk, straightening up, and moves until he's about a foot or so away from the bag. It takes a moment, but he manages a credibly loose fist and takes a gentle (for him) swipe at it.

A master of fisticuffs, Clark is not.

[cute_bruiser]

She grins at him, bright and easily confident - as well she might be. She's quite tall for a woman, at about 5'9" or 10", but she is indeed slim bordering on the skinny - and compared to him, probably still counts as tiny. She also has a bad habit of looking rather younger than she is, probably a somewhat unfortunate result of spending her entire adolescence behaving younger than she was.

She cocks her head, watching him hit and rather wondering why he seems to be pulling his punches; in her experience, amateurs tend to hit too hard, rather than not hard enough.

"...Uh. Did anyone ever show you how to hit?"

[boyscout]

"Not in an official way."

His father sure as hell didn't, but there were extenuating circumstances for that. On closer look, he supposes Molly doesn't look as young as he initially assumed. Clark is well aware that looks can be deceiving, though. He's just hoping that's a good thing in her case.

"It's okay. Not everyone is cut out to be a fighter, right?"

[cute_bruiser]

"Guess not." She smiles.

"I used to teach it - well, sort of. Mostly what I did was teach stroppy teenagers how to only use their super-strength to break the stuff they wanted to break. But in theory I taught basic combat."

And not for very long. But that's a whole other story.

"If you swing your whole body when you punch, it's more effective and it's easier to hit again. But also harder to stop."

[hasthehighground]

Clint saw her when he was heading out to the firing range (dressed in business casual, his blazer left back with the Bar).

When she's still there on his way back, he stops to watch for a bit. He's not a boxer, himself, but he's watching a someone who has an idea of what they're looking at.

[cute_bruiser]

It doesn't take Molly long to realise she's being watched, but she's busy - and anyway, one of the benefits of being functionally invulnerable (under most circumstances, anyway) is that she's really very hard to unnerve.

It's clear from the way she stands and moves and hits that she's had decent training and extensive experience, but she's also not working entirely naturally: like she's still having to mentally over-ride the urge for one or two big punches in favour of a fluent, linked chain of blows.

She remembers this, damnit; she is going to get it right.

[hasthehighground]

Clint will watch her for a few more minutes before heading in; she's interesting.

For now, he's curious about the slightly constrained nature of her actions: it reads like anger, but the rest of her... doesn't, really.

It bears observation.

[cute_bruiser]

She's not so much angry as slightly annoyed with herself for not getting this right immediately, but she's getting there; eventually, however, she has to break for a drink.

"You want one?" she offers, and gestures appropriately with the extra bottle.

[hasthehighground]

Clint rolls his shoulders when she stops, a somewhat unconscious breaking of focus.

"Sure." He's smiling slightly, and extends a hand in the assumption she'll toss the bottle. "Training for something?"

[cute_bruiser]

"Not really - just practicing."

She tosses him the extra bottle.

"It's not my usual fighting style."

[hasthehighground]

He snags it easily, with a nodded thanks. "Yeah? What do you usually do?"

[cute_bruiser]

She grins, and there's something thoroughly wicked about that grin.

"Well, normally a couple big punches from me'll beat most things to a pulp."

Yes, including the giant murderous robots she spends most of her time beating up.