Underground Training Complex

Enter from Front Yard of the Orphanage
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Almost there, she was almost there. The barriers had been erected for several minutes without breaking, and she was starting to get used to the feeling of having multiple ones in use at the same time. She just needed a bit more, a little more time and she was certain she could use them freely. The only problem at this point would be not passing out from lack of resting due to how exhausted she'd become over the course of all this. She was exhausted, not physically, but mentally, taking everything she had to stay awake and keep driving toward her goal of improvement, and nothing was going to stop her from doing so.

She had a goal and she would accomplish it, after all she wasn't so weak as to give up mid-way.  

Despite the struggle, she managed to keep the barriers formed and ready, now having several lined around her at various angles as she constantly tried to form more and more to push her limits. Any barrier that managed to break apart during her meditation process is where she made an effort to replace it with two more. If one fell, two arose. If two fell, then three arose. She wouldn't improve with them if she simply made one at a time, she was going to force herself. The stress and effort could be visibly seen on her features as sweat dripped from stray locks of grey hair and down her face, a small vein in her forehead being visible.

Practice didn't make perfect, perfect practice did; and that's all she strived for at this very moment.

Barriers rose and fell, twisted and turned at various angles and dropped and elevated within the area the pages were scattered, all at the exhausted woman's mental commands. It was stressful and mentally draining, but she finally managed to accomplish her main objective. Essentially pushing her abilities to the next level, she could now control and manipulate various barriers at once, even to the point of bending or curving them in the way she needed them, but it still needed refining. As exhausted as she was, another hour or so should give her the edge she needed to complete this training of hers and essentially turn it into a viable combat application, so she would endure a bit more.

She was finished. The amount of control she'd gained over the barriers was satisfactory and would be more than useful during her fight against the unholy, but even if it wasn't she wouldn't be able to continue without completely draining herself - something she was already on the verge of doing, and she still had things to take care of. One of such things were the two children she'd brought to the Orphanage, hopefully things were going well. The pages unnailed themselves from the walls and filled their respective covers still laid on the floor before her before she retrieved all of them as she stood, placing them into the satchel on the back of her waist.

Well, then... Time to see how deep a hole I've dug myself into..

Veronica rubbed the bridge of her nose out of irritation and exhaustion, taking in a deep breath before making her way out of the training complex to head back to the orphanage.

--- Exit.

---------> Enter from Anthony's room.

"YAAH!" Anthony's stroke came down quickly and harshly against the tough dummy made of steel poles stuffed and covered in a brown rubber material.

His downward strike against the dummy came from the side and would have crushed a normal man's shoulder or collar bone. As it was it managed to dent and slightly bend the pole as well as shatter the wooden stick he was using to practice. This practice came easy for him. Hewanted to continue to move and to burn and to learn until he could no longer stand. Until nothing less than forced sleep brought on by exhaustion over took him. He didn't care if he had to be ready for duty. Ha as if they would send him out in the field. For what purpose so that he could watch another one ofh is friends die? So that he could fail again?

Anthony swept up the pieces of the hardened stick next to the wall were three more of them lay. Then picked up another. Smashing things had been...useful. But now it was time to learn.

Advancing forward Anthony came crushing down upon the fake skull of his enemy cutting the air easily as his rod made it's way down upon the target. Only to switch in the blink of an eye the direction of travel. Pulling the rod closer to him and stepping forward with one foot he completely switched momentum and using his second arm he pushed the end of the rod forward and still carrying it with him in his other hand he struck with the bottom of the wooden stick slightly below where a man's solar plexus should be on the dummy coming up at it. Even going so far as to use his legs or support by springing upward with them slightly before the blow landed. The blow's ferocity was only matched by it's accuracy and not only did it punch through the hard rubber but even made it's way into another of the steel poles also slightly damaging this one.

Anthony pulled out the stick from the dummies interior and began practicing moves that would precise ayet powerful. Each one leaving room for defense and yet leading up to another attack. His foot work needed work as did his accuracy. In order to work to work on these he took things slower. Until he got a feel for it. Nice and easy. Thirty times. Then he rested going over the moves in his memory.

First whip the neck with the rod, then continuing downward with the rod pointed straight up perform a block that comes across your crouched body by dragging the weapon from the outside of the body across it once again outside of the body. Flip the stick around towards yourself and around the hand at an angle thus blocking any face shots as you come up and using your leg's power and the circles rotation end your swing at the enemies neck hitting it with a stab with great force. As you turn your body and jump to the side slightly, towards the circle avoiding any counter attacks towards your face with a block and dodge simultaneously. Bring knee up the chest resulting in a guard over vital areas as the move is commenced. Then coming down on them with a low side kick crushing their knee cap to the side as you remove your weapon and swing it in a downward arc across your body once again countering an attack. Then continuing with your momentum spin around and swing your weapon with this spin at the back of your opponents skull using your free hand to block as needed as well as your leg for any kicks countering your enemies force with your own and still getting an attack on the back of their head. Then continuing forward with the swing go low once more turning your body to the side of the enemy in a horse stance. (self explanatory as if riding a horse only the  crouch is a little lower and the feet a bit wider apart.) And block with your arm pointed upward and turning your chest to the side thus building up even more momentum then finally coming in for the kill step forward with your leg farthest from the target this one going in front of the enemy so that your back is now turned to them and your leg extended in font of them still in a low stance now a front stance only your legs are crossed. Then completing the turn bring your weapon with all your power across the side of the stomach of your enemy finishing in another front stance yet this time facing the opposite direction with your feet apart once again.

Anthony slowly began to practice these movements. Truth be told he had just come up with these moves as a way to get familiar with the use of more up close and personal weapons. the entire idea about this current set of techniques was that one should be able to continually build up momentum for their strikes while blocking any common strikes made by your enemy by continuing with your momentum only ever switching directions with a block that turns into a strike by turning. Although since you do build up a maximum speed and when flying so fast at your enemy it makes it hard to move, and thus dangerous for yourself being unable to dodge any unexpected attacks. That's why you use a couple strikes and block to build up your momentum for a while then end with a heavy blow and continue the cycle. Although the last set of moves if done correctly should be the most powerful of all the attacks. Especially the last move in which you should have built up the momentum of a couple strikes blocks and spins. If done correctly and with a sharp object the move should chop a man in half fairly easily. Especially considering Anthony's category F strength and speed. But then again, he wasn't going to fight normal people. He was going to be fighting vampires stronger and faster than him able to out do him any day of the week and so he would need this momentum in order to even put a fight.

Anthony's approach came in slow building little speed and doing little damage to the target. Until he tried again. Each time getting a little faster than the last. Each time more powerful. More comfortable, more deadly. Eventually after twenty or so practice run throughs he began to try these moves with actual practical speed. Only leaving out the intense gain of power from continuing with his strikes until around the fiftieth attempt, in which he gained momentum little by little. By attempt number sixty  he was whipping this target with the blade so fast and hard that it sounded like rapid fire explosions every time a series of strikes came around. His arms were blurred as he did these moves. The target slowly but surely falling to pieces as he knocked chunks off of it and away from himself. then after repetition one hundred and forty three. He for a moment lost his grip. But not on his weapon oh no. On reality. As Anthony was about to turn and complete the last move in his make shift kata his eyes began to see him things that were not really there. This dummy had become a demon. A friend murdering demon that took the form of that fiend which had slain Call. He was bent over Call's corpse laughing at him mocking him telling Anthony everything that his ver own heart warring to deny. For the moments it took Anthony to turn he heard every last little douby about himself spoken by this creature and every one of them hit home. Quickly spinning as fast as he could Anthony shouted out as he struck with all of the power he could muster. CAALL!. Anthony's stick came across the failing stomach of his dummy and finally managed to chop this thing in half.

Though continuing with his momentum on this last attempt he feel forward on to his knees and then his shoulder finally being able to repeat these moves no more he rolled over onto his back which felt icy cold against the floor of the training area. He was glad that he was only training in his pants that he had used for martial arts lessons because anything he would have been wearing other than that would have been drenched with sweat. He didn't care that his hand, arm, and side had reopened. He didn't care that all of these things would scar even worse now. So what? Add it to the collection.

And for a moment Anthony just lie there panting trying to regain some amount of breathe which he seemed unable to do. As that gruesome seen played out over and over in his head. He heard the demon's voice calling him useless, weak, pathetic, nothing more than a burden. And he agreed with it! No! No! His soul shouted. He couldn't give in, if he did then the demon would have been right and he better of in hell! But what evidence was there to prove that what he heard wasn't true? Was there any at all? Anthony lie there on the cold ground feeling it grow all the colder as the last bit of heat and fight drained from his body. His brothers and sisters had died defending him and there was nothing. Nothing he could to change that or repay them, he had nothing, he could do nothing, he WAS nothing! Anthony's soul shrank at these accusations. He wanted to run away, run away until he found something, anything but this darkness that followed him around, this darkness that wouldn't leave him. But he couldn't. So he staid where he was and suffered it's blows. But Anthony was made of some stern stuff. Regardless of who told him he wasn't he was not quitter, he would never give in until death itself came for him. As Anthony fought for breathe to fuel his body. His soul fought for light. Fought for light desperately being depraved of it f so long. For this darkness was old, colder than anything he had ever felt before. So cold that it numbed him, froze him, crippled him. He needed light., He needed it's warmth. He needed something to save the dying fire of his soul but where could he find light? Who could show him what it looked like, what it felt like? Was he failing his lord? Should he not be able to sustain himself on the spirit of God only? He shouldn't need anything else. He didn't. But he wanted it. Anthony looked towards one of his bibles and brought thoughts of faith to his mind which for one glorious moment brought the sun itself into his soul, a soothing and comforting, loving warmth spread through his body. And for a moment he forgot his trouble and his pains. But he knew that now was not his time with the lord. He would need to die first. Anthony coming out of the place he needed to go to use scripture was not so cold anymore. But he still hungered for some form of earthly warmth that he could find. True he didn't feel good, in fact he had barely changed at all. But he had received the gif the had desperately needed to continue living. Hope. One of the greatest of God's gifts. And hope, was the light of men.

His breathing regulated and looking over to his side where he had laid his stuff down he reached over with a sore and nearly unusable arm to recover a bottle of water. Of which he dumped a bit on himself and then a little into his mouth. repeating this process until the water was gone. Then looking at the metal rod in his hand which he still for some reason gripped seemingly unable to let it go which was dented and slightly bent and probably useless he tossed it hard away from him towards the wall with the other remains of his shattered sticks. The wooden ones were pretty much not going to cut it for him any more. But they had served their purpose and let him get comfortable with using longer blades than knives. Was he a master now? Not really. But he had an understanding, and more importantly a drive to lean something.

Enter from Meabhs Quarters
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Twisting and turning down the halls with Sister Meabh in tow, it didn't take long for the two of them to reach the training complex. This was a better outcome than he usually could have hoped for, at the very least she wasn't trying dive into another mission without taking precautions with her new found abilities. She would need to adapt to her new assets if she wanted to continue her fieldwork, and seeing as how it was extremely unlikely she'd choose a desk job after what she just went through, he had no objections to acting as a punching bag for physical training.

He would push open the door to the training complex and hold it open for the sniper to enter, taking notice of Father Diem making use of his free time practicing. A part of him wondered what the priest had bee up to since their last mission, but it wasn't of any importance. Diem seemed a bit off, but the cyborg merely shrugged at the observation he was making as he awaited Meabh.

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OOC: Meh post is very meh.... been losing muse for Mikey lately...

The walk to the complex had been one of silent companionship; Father Miles hadn’t once offered to break the muted moment, and for that, she was grateful. She wouldn’t know what to say anyway. There was too much and nothing at all going on in her head, and it made for a rather fuzzy feeling she didn’t like in the least. Her body was incredibly new to her all over again, reminding her of all the times she’d had to learn something new from an instructor (or vicious fighting), back when her body didn’t know the routines, didn’t know the movements.

This was like that, only a thousand fold.

Entering the training area through the held door, she nods once to Miles before striding over to one of the large mats covering the great space. Halting before she stepped on the dark blue surface, she bends down and unlaces her boots, taking them off one at a time and setting them on the floor, just off the mat. Exhaling slowly – and taking note with some far reach of her mind that Father Diem seemed out of sorts – she pads onto the firm, but forgiving mat and stops somewhere near middle.

She waits for her partner, mind already made up as to how this “training” session was going to start.

It wasn’t going to be pretty.

Barely turning his head as his allies entered into the building. He wondered what they were doing here and why Meabh had brought no one else to spar with as Michel probably far outclassed her to the point where training for both of them together would be nearly useless. But then he remembered that Meabh had undergone the process to become a regenerator which would put her at an equal ability as her partner father Miles. Anthony cringed as he remembered this. How could it possibly have slipped his mind that his friend had gone through perhaps one of the most difficult experiences of her entire life! He hadn't even bothered to check on her! He had simply come here and waisted his time beating on things to relieve himself of his anger. To try and make himself feel better. He could not have imagined a more selfish act at the moment. In fact the thought to visit her and make sure she was okay hadn't even crossed his mind.

Anthony scowled for a moment disgusted with himself as he got off of the floor and stood to lean against the wall. He silently nodded to both of the people entering the room and from there he waited. With yet another nefarious intention. He imagined it would be better for him to excuse himself and get out of their way so that they could train. He knew that Meabh needed to do this so that she would come to know her knew abilities and not get killed in her next mission but he couldn't bring himself to leave, to not witness this example of a regenerator's abilities up close. Not thinking that he could slink any lower simply waited them to start their practice eagerly.

Taking a moment to make a small detour to a nearby bench, the cybernetic priest began to remove the unnecessary equipment he currently had on his person. Setting his boots side-by-side, he removed his cassock and the various pieces of armor plating that was attached to it, there was no reason for him to be even more armored than he already was in this situation. His weaponry and their holsters came next, setting them on the bench with his gloves next to them. He also removed his necklace, his rosary and the two cross-shaped medallions that decorated his clothing before turning back toward the mat. He couldn't predict how this would play out, but there was no use in having them at the moment, they'd only get damaged.    

Stepping onto the mat and positioning himself directly opposite of Meabh, the cyborg brought himself into something that resembled a boxing stance, face still expressionless as always. Truthfully, he really didn't orient around an actual style of fighting and more so just did what needed to be done given the situation he was in, and he was fairly certain his partner knew that given the time they'd been working together. However, seeing as the whole point of this exercise was to get her adjusted to the changes she'd underwent, that might be the best system to fight against. He'd give her a moment to ready herself before doing anything.

"Begin practice whenever ready."

Watching him remove the unnecessary bit of armor and clothing from his tall frame, the sniper can't help but think for a moment on the damage she'd done to him in their last mission. To be sure, if she'd done nothing, he would be dead, but the fact still stood that she injured him on purpose in order to make the kill.

And that seemed to be the mission they wanted to reward her for.

It was odd to her that she had been given this "gift" to begin with. Wasn't she part of the fringe? A part of Iscariot that no one wanted to get near? The part that comprised mainly of her and a handful of others, others not from the orphanage, others not from the Church, or even Rome. she was respected through fear, but even that was a begrudging emotion thrown her way because of rank and deeds done. Not because she was one of them.

her partner taking a stance across from her shook her out of her musings. Standing loose and seemingly without any sort of stance at all, she exhales slowly and breaks the silence.

"Hit me."

She let's the words sink in for a moment before continuing.

"Hit me as hard as you can. If I'm going to learn the limits of my body, I would rather know now than spend the next hour trying to find it." She smiles wryly at him. "Besides, I need a good whipping after what I did to you."

OOC: Anthony said we can skip him, so here I go.
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Her response was unexpected, asking for an all out strike on the first go was a bit much in his opinion, even if she now had the body of a regenerator to take the impact. He had compared himself to Iscariot's prized soldiers before and several times came to the conclusion that they were on equal footing in terms of physical capabilities, so there was a decent chance going all out in a sparing match could lead to heavy injury. He had no ill-will toward her for what happened on their previous mission, and no real urge to pay her back for it, but as she requested he wouldn't hold back.

Pushing forward off the mat, Mile's frame would of blurred and distorted to any human eyes looking upon him, crossing the gap between himself and the redhead in one swift leap of supernatural proportions and speed. Still holding his emotionless expression, his right fist, which was pulled back, was sent it forward like a missile of reinforced steel and bullet-resistant skin toward her jaw with all his body weight and strength packed behind it. Ordinarily enough to utterly obliterate a normal man and low-level supernatural creature, but seeing as how her new body was supposedly on par with his own he felt certain such damage wouldn't occur, but either way she was going to get what she asked for.

She watched him as he hesitated for a moment, but only a moment; he’d made his decision in the split second it took for him to realize she was dead serious.

The speed he approached her with was nothing short of amazing, and though she’d seen it many times out in the field, this was the first time she would witness it up close. Very up close. Her brain could keep up with the quickness of his movements, and she felt a surge of energy that told her – should she want – she could pivot around his attack and save from any injury. But that wasn’t what she’d asked for. She’d asked for him to hit her, and by God, she was going to take it.

So she did.

The impact of his fist meeting the bone of her left jaw could be heard across the training floor. A loud crackpop resounded throughout the space, a sound that would set most to cringing in empathy. Her head snapped back, and she was taken off her feet. Landing a few yards from her original position, she came to the conclusion that she really wanted to stay down for a moment.

Her jaw was shattered – she’d taken the brunt of his full-out hit there – and it felt like fiery needles were exploding all over her face and down her neck. It wasn’t a new feeling; she’d had her jaw broken before, but not by a man who hit like a freight train. She had witness that punch take the heads off regular men, and not less than a few times those of ghouls and their makers. So the fact that she was even still breathing was a testament to the resiliency of her body’s recent changes.

But even as she lay thinking on whether she should ask for that again, she could feel the bones knitting together, the tendons growing back in place. After only a few moments, her jaw was once again whole, as though her partner hadn't nearly taken her head only a minute ago. Shoving off the mat, she stands, wiping away a smear of blood that had made its way down her chin; most likely she’d bitten her tongue, though she couldn’t feel anything to suggest such a thing happened.

Walking back to her first position, she pulls a half frown before taking up a loose, easy stance in front of her partner.

”Let’s try that one again.”

Miles' face remained emotionless as his fist impacted, though if he could use a word to describe how he felt about what he'd just did, he would be close to remorse; watching the woman fly from her feet as the jaw-shattering crunch filled the room shortly before she thudded against the mat. The operation she'd underwent had indeed increased her physical abilities, but the fact that that much damage was done from a punch of his was concerning. However, part of him guessed it was only a temporary result given that was the first injury she'd taken for it to regenerate.

He backed away to his previous position as his partner rose, taking notice of Father Diem showing noticeable signs of concern until she got to her feet and returned to her position. He had a feeling they were going to be here a while after he heard her next sentence, and he wasn't sure if she was going to stand there and take the next hit - though he prefer it if she didn't. He came here to spar, not use her as a punching bag. Either way, he wasn't going to stop unless she asked him which only left him with one option; answer her.

Dropping back into his stance, Miles once again distorted from view, dashing across the gap with his inhuman strides. Stepping forward with his right foot, he leaned forward and spun on his heel, using the speed from his dash to further accelerate bringing his left foot around for a bone crunching kick, possibly packing even more force than his previous punch; launching it squarely toward her stomach.

Working her jaw slightly, the sniper takes a second – a second only – rethink her method of training. Perhaps jumping in headfirst (quite literally) wasn’t the best decision she’d ever made in her lifetime, but it had been fruitful nonetheless. She now knew that she could take a full on hit from her partner – a man far more dangerous than many they hunted – and live through it. And not only live, but also repair whatever damage had been done in some short amount of time. Even though the breaking of bone still hurt, she was beginning to flesh out her new style of fighting, starting from this pain; it wasn’t something she couldn’t fight through, and indeed, she’d had to do it before.

Now on to lesson number two.

While Father Miles was fast, she suddenly realized that not only could she see his movements, she could now react to them. Watching his kick come at her, she waits until the last p[possible moment to shift her body out of the way, barely enough to have his foot slide past her midsection. With new-found speed, she whips out her arms and takes hold of his outstretched leg, latching on to it with a strength she could not yet control, and rotated her hips to force all his momentum elsewhere.

Elsewhere meant into the air.

Which meant flying towards Father Diem.

She releases his leg as soon as his body was lifted from the mat, she blinks in surprise that such a maneuver – one meant only to force him off balance – would produce such a result. Time to readjust that fighting style.

Anthony initially was very much worried about Meabh seeing her take the devastating blow from the mechanical father. But did not have time to run up to her before he saw in her signs of life beginning to show. He leaned back against the wall and focused on deep breathing to slow his beating heart. Which right now was beating faster than it had in a very, very long time. He watched with no small amount of awe as she got up and was healed in a matter of moments. So much so to the point where she was able to begin fighting again. Anthony was now paying even more attention to her than he had been before quite literally tuning out everything else but her movements, and her fighting style. He wanted to see how things changed for her now that she had received regenerative abilities. What was different about how she fought, how she healed, he was mesmerized by the concept and was now showing signs of obsession with it. It was a very good thing indeed for Father Diem that he had been paying such close attention for as he watched Meabh closely he could almost feel what was about to happen being experienced in throwing himself he judged by the looks of her body mechanics, position, and style that Father Miles was about to be launched into him.

Quite sure that no matter what happened if he was hit by the mechanical father at such high speeds something would break, and he didn't imagine it would be the bullet proof cyborg. Quickly turning to face the wall his eyes wide Anthony jumped into the air as high as he could and kicked off the wall with his first foot thus pushing him upward and slightly away from the wall. Then outstretching his second leg completely he kicked off of the wall again this time outward and as he maneuvered himself in mid air to be facing the wall with his feet pointing towards the floor he watched Father Miles crash into his destination with a considerable amount of noise.

Finally falling to the floor Anthony landed with a mall thud barely having to bend his knees to remain standing that showed off the grace he had attained thanks to Iscariot's training. After a moment he turned his head to Meabh and smiled at her saying jokingly.

"Day one of Sister Eir's regeneration, she has already managed to do more damage to Father Miles than Alucard. (Then seriously he added.) It was quite impressive to watch. But not entirely surprising"

As he neared the end of what he was saying he began to walk forward to Father Miles he didn't doubt that he was alright but still he felt that if any way he could help his comrades he would do so. As he approached the father he extended his hand to him so as to help him up.


(OOC Mikey I think I've puppeted you a small bit. If you have any objections I'd be glad to change my post.)

Unsurprised by the reaction of his partner, he was well aware of what would happen after her hands latched onto his leg. Strength rivaling his own swung him around and sent him flying across the training room, turning and spinning a few times in mid-flight as he tried to adjust himself before he'd meet his destination. Luckily, he'd managed to right himself to where his back slammed squarely into the lockers in his place, his metal shoulder-blades compacting the stainless steel containers and the contents inside with his full body weight behind them; leaving an indent of his body.

No pain was felt from the impact, nor did it do any real damage against his reinforced body, so he easily pulled himself out of the depression and rose to his feet, responding to Diems outstretched hand with a "Negative, training has not ended," before turning toward the bench directly infront of the lockers to his left. Using the edge of his foot, he lifted the bench by the end with a quick uplift, causing it to quickly raise and lean forward, as if about to stand straight up on it's end. However, before it even got to that point, the cyborgs body blurred once again as he spun, spin kicking the large bench across the room and toward the redhead still on the mat.

Not counting on it to hit with her new found abilities, though hoping it would blind her for atleast a few moments, the cyborg wasn't far behind the speeding projectile after having dashed after it mere moments after he had sent it careening across the space of the room. Ready to follow up the distraction with a counter-attack, the series of full-powered boxing-esque jabs that would follow would hardly be pleasant.

She hadn’t really expected such a response from her actions; seems like she needed to get a better handle on what she had become. The woman watches as her partner hauls himself up without the help of Father Diem – who appeared concerned and confused. Her pale grey eyes follow the cyborg’s movements until he reached the bench, and in that moment, she knew what was coming.

And indeed, the wooden seat was sent flying directly at her.

Taking in a breath, she decided to rely on her new abilities – to trust them completely – so instead of stepping back, she leans forward into its path. It impacts her raised forearm and shatters in half, both sections flying off in different directions. Knowing without a doubt that her partner would be right behind it, she ducks down to have his swings brush the top of her hair, feeling the wind off of them as they rush by.

Gathering herself, she throws a punch of her own, aimed exactly for his solar plexus. It wouldn’t put this man down, but it would give her some indication of how much control she had over her body.



[[So sorry that poor post is BAD.]]

(OOC Nonsense it's fine.)

Anthony looked at the cyborg for barely a moment as he registered what he was saying. Then not missing a beat as quick as he could he dove to his left and rolled out of the way of the large bench flying overhead towards sister Eir. As he dove to the side he threw his right shoulder down so that after his hands hit the ground his shoulder would absorb the rest of the blow. Then turning his head as his feet hit the floor finishing the summersault just in time he caught site of Meabh splitting the bench with her own forearms and faster than he could accurately see she dodged Father Miles blows and began to throw punches of her own. Father Anthony Diem watched this display with a small grin spreading across his face. He found it almost comical that the two supposedly most feared and or emotionless individuals in Iscariot happened to also be the two most fun to be around.

Getting up he backed over to where he had been standing before Father Miles had been launched at him and continued to watch the display with utmost awe.

(OOC Now this, is a bad post)

She was adapting to her new body well, an impressive feat from what he understood of the process, but that only meant he'd have to be more aggressive. The jab was ducked, not surprising given the woman's great foresight and intuition, though he wasn't planning on taking anymore punches if they were in his power to avoid and luckily, this one was. Spinning a half turn on his right heel and taking a half-step back with his left foot, Meabh's jab barely few directly across the center of his torso without making contact as he basically sidestepped out of it's path, barely missing it's mark.

However, a split second after this had occurred, the very same hand that Meabh had ducked under moments ago came back down towards the top of her head while his right knee shot upward. Intending to use his hand to push her head down and ram her chin into the incoming knee with bone-breaking force, it was fair to say he was going to make this as real a combat situation as he could, at least until she was satisfied with the results.

The whiff of her hand sliding past the priest's torso made no difference to her tactics; the plan was mutable, which meant she could roll with whatever he wanted to throw next. Except, the thing coming next was both his knee and hand. Simultaneously.

Exhaling in a huff, she does the only thing she can: twist and fall. Her body rolls to the side, but since her momentum was already pushing her off-balance, she couldn't keep to her feet. Rolling out from between his pincer movement, she rotates until her knees hit the floor, and then her side. The sniper tumbles a few feet away before popping back to her feet, taking up another loose stance, waiting for her cyborg partner to attack again,

She assumed she wouldn't have to wait long.



[[OOC: Sorry that really bad post from my phone is really bad.]]

Anthony began to put back on his clerics as the fight continued. He still watched out of the corner of his eye but for now he believed that he was done training. That and he desperately needed something to take his mind off things and his interest in training had now been exhausted. However this fight for the moment being suited him quite well. Not only did it give him a chance to study the abilities of a regenerator but to also be around Sister Eir and Father Miles. Though he knew it would not last forever and was already contemplating what he would be doing next. Sighing he contented himself to watch this fight while it lasted. As he was not sure if there would be anything after it to distract him from focusing on Call's grizzly death.

But after a moment he remembered something. He had used up quite a bit of his materials in the last fight he had had. He would need to replenish some of his scripture, bullet's and maybe even take along something new...

Anthony quickly used his pages to carry him to the Iscariot Armory where he would take (with permission) enough bullet's to replenish his stock. As well as enough scripture to replace what was lost, and also two fragmentation grenades. Something he was going to be very excited to try out.

Then quickly he transported himself back into the training room where his comrades where practicing. Now completely stocked up he felt eager to go on a mission. Partly because a life and death situation would be a wonderful distraction indeed. Partly because he needed to start proving himself on the field of battle. He needed to show the rest of Iscariot that not only was he a vampire slayer. But in fact, one of the best and deserving to get even better. While of course he would never believe this. He knew that he didn't have to. The only people who did, were those who regulated the regeneration serum.

She was adapting well with her new body, even he had to admit. He had no idea the changes would take place so quickly. Perhaps a field mission wasn't as dangerous as he had originally thought, but nonetheless she hadn't told him to stop; so he wouldn't. Re-situating himself back into his combat stance after his palm had met his knee with a loud "clap", Miles gaze met Meabh's for only a moment before he immediately, once again, crossed the gap in a single bound forward, fully intent to keep her on her toes.

Bringing up his fist as he would get within range, he cyborg's jab was sent directly for the woman's jaw, backed by his bone shattering force and the momentum of his charge, he was curious to see what kind of maneuver she'd try this time. It was time he started switching up his tactics, and he fully readied himself to react on a moments notice to whatever she'd try to pull.

[[I'm assuming you lead with your right hand.]]

He was so fast. Previously, she'd watched him through a scope, or kept eyes on him only briefly during a fight; now, however, she was seeing it up close, and it astounded her just how quick he truly was. To be sure, she'd been able to follow his movements to some degree when they'd been on missions, but she could never fully track him without losing sight of everything else. And though her mind could follow him, her reactions had ever been to his level.

Until now.

He had a computer telling him the best probable way to attack her - though she knew part of that human side was using instinct - and computers deal in absolutes. So to get around a fist flying at her face at blinding speed, she does the thing most people would actively avoid: she looks to take the hit.

At the last moment of the last possible second, she twists to her left, allowing the balled fingers to scrape along her jaw, sending spider-cracks through the bone. However, she could already feel them healing up, stitching together even as she continued her move. Her right arm swings around as she whips into a half turn, now facing her partner on his right side. Her right hand comes up with speed that matches his own and, now straight and turned on its edge, aims it for his neck.

Her arm then stops.

She stands there, fingers nearly touching his skin, knowing he would notice her sudden halt to the fight. Her body was still unusual to her, but now she had an idea of just what it would take, at least from a hand-to-hand altercation. The sniper's breathing was steady, calm, and for once she felt a sense of accomplishment in this; before, physical exertion brought on the reminders of how worn and torn her body was, and any sort of prolonged fight would begin to wear on her. Now, however, she was capable of holding her own against a man even stronger than she was, and it didn't even wind her.

The redhead says nothing, but waits for her partner's response.

He watched her take the blow to the jaw and heard the crack of bone resonate from her face. All while she was wearing smile. Or rather figuratively. Of course she was not 'smiling' per say as she was struck. But he imagined that had she wanted to she certainly could have. Anthony certainly knew he was. Then a call. Luckily for him he had put on his cassock and heard the vibrations of the phone as they echoed within his pocket. He paused for a moment not wanting to peel his eyes off of the fight in front of him. But upon the second ring. He pulled out the phone and walked away from Meabh and Michael for a moment to take the call and speak without disturbing them.

He responded quickly and gladly to Maxwell as he informed him of what he had planned. Another mission eh? Anthony thought this was very strange. Normally Iscariot's were sent out in pairs. With the exception of the good father whom soloed many of his missions. He couldn't help but wonder why he had been sent in a team of three two times in a row. The first was easy enough to fathom. That mission had been hard, the hardest he could remember in fact. He assumed that they might have wanted to send a rather powerful team. Now while Anthony didn't think of himself as powerful, it was true that he was one of the few Iscariot capable of using scripture. Which neither Sister Eir, or father Miles could do. So the three of them together for that such mission had made considerable sense to him. They all brought their own unique skills to the battle. Father Miles, his ability to withstand a hurricane of undead and come out...well, alive at least. Meabh, for her unparalleled accuracy and now. Stupendous physical abilities coupled with the ability to heal instantly from near any wound.

But now, what was the reason for the teams? Certainly he was overjoyed with the matter even though he knew that such pairings would be unlikely to happen very often in the future. But he did not immediately know why they were going on for the moment. But eventually he settled on the idea that perhaps they were nervous about loosing another regenerator especially one with Sister Eir's track record. He assumed they were nervous about sending her into a mission because of how unused to her new body she was. So perhaps they would be sending him in to help make sure things went smoothly during the mission. though, as to why they thought he would have any better luck defending this regenerator than the last was-No! Anthony quickly walked back towards his companions and stomped out these thoughts which arose in his mind. He still didn't entirely believe that Call's blood wasn't on his hands. But there was no use on thinking about it now. It was to late, and he had a mission to accomplish. His questions now answered at least to himself as he had no real way of knowing what his higher ups were thinking. He upon reaching his friends spoke with a slight smile. Brought on by his lack of control over his excitement.

"It appears that Maxwell has seen fit to send us on another mission. I was informed that we are to leave as soon as we are able."

(OOC If you need time to do something in your post Mikey, Anthony's phone call took a minute or two.)

A near hit, a scrape, but with the crackle of bone accompanying it. It was truly amazing at how much of a boost she had been given, easily reacting to him and keeping pace without so much as a single misstep or flaw in her timing. He was fairly certain even most vampires on his level would have misjudged that and wound up with a shattered jaw, but not her. She already possessed remarkable skill, but now it was well above it's previous level. It was to be expected, however, wasn't it? Yes. But it was still astounding to say the least. How many times would it have saved her in the past, he wondered? How many times would he had not been needed to do the things he'd done if she had this power? Odd, he shouldn't really care, should he?

No. He shouldn't.

Eyes following the redhead the whole way as she now appeared on his right, already reacting to her first that was sent flying towards his neck. Normally taking hits was what he did best; he didn't feel pain nor did he have bones to break, but he'd learned his lesson about what beings on his level could do him on their previous mission and figured it best to match her move per move to avoid more repairs.

His left hand blurred into motion, flying up with intent to intercept the fist with his open palm, but he stops midway as a signal comes across his OS, halting his physical movement. A signal, no, a message was sent to him. A message for...another mission. He would not question it, nor did he have a right too, he was a machine built for taking on these assigned tasks after all, but could the others he was accompanied by get no rest?

Luckily, Meabh stops her assault as well, otherwise he would have wound up several feet back on the mat with the possibility of needing a replacement jaw as his immediate defensive measures were stopped midway through. Remaining in his frozen position for a moment longer as he casts a sidelong glance towards his partner after reading the message, he returns to an upright position and lowers his arms, turning toward the benches to retrieve his clothing and weaponry.

"Positive. Message received 0.7 seconds ago. Downloading specs in a moment."

He had stopped at nearly the same instant she had come to a halt. She exhales in a huff, extremely relieved to find that her aim hadn't been off, or else she may have actually hit him without any sort of defense on his part. Taking a step back as he returns to a neutral stance, she works her jaw to find that it had healed up nicely; she doesn't think she will ever get accustomed to this new ability. It is so strange to know your body will bounce back almost immediately from any injury (any being a subjective term), when for the longest time she'd been reliant on defense and retreat to keep herself whole.

Both Father's mentioned a mission, which was no surprise, considering how few operatives were on duty at the moment. That, and they had recently lost another member of the flock that had her same regenerative power, so sending all three of them together made a bit of sense.

Walking off the mat, she takes a seat on a bench and slides on her boots, lacing them one after another. There was nothing more to do than wait until the mission parameters were given to Father Miles, so she sits and stretches, not feeling the pleasant pull of muscle she'd become reliant on to tell her the state of her body. It caused her to frown slightly; this feeling was one she had come to enjoy in a way, as it told her just how alive she truly was. Now, she felt nothing.

]So this is what it will be like. Oh, how right he was.

Anthony smiled already getting excited for this mission. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Here he was happily strolling off to go kill something like some kind of madman while his friend from childhood Call MacAleese lay dead and robbed on the same. Stopping in his tracks and his face going pale and worried he wondered. He wondered what he was turning into. He knew that some Iscariot's would never find better homes than the battle field but honestly he had always attributed that to their strength of will. Immersing themselves so far into their faith, that they were able to find joy even in the face of hell. But perhaps, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was them breaking? Maybe this was how they dealed with the loss of so many of their friends. Maybe they just couldn't take it...like him. Anthony had made an effort to never stop loving his comrades, and to never become heartless, because he believed if he did that he would be no better than the vampire.

But now, was there any other way to deal with this? The pain he kept putting himself through. It was literally killing him. He could see no other choice before him really. Either he let go of himself, and become a ruthless monster. Or he could follow in the path of so many. So many of his comrades. Just like the Father Anderson...Who he considered one of the greatest people to ever walk this earth. Anthony shook his head clearing it. If he still thought about going insane. That meant he wasn't yet, and that met he still wasn't ready to give up any part of himself. No, not yet. He would try his best to remain as sane, and loving as he could. If there was anyhting he could control, it should be himself.

Anthony then with his comrades left this room, and went onward towards his goal. Which currently finding out where there transportation would be.

---------->>> Exit to mission i think.

Sliding his arms into his cassock and adjusting it into a comfortable position (as if that should've mattered to him), the cyborg began to reattach the two steel shoulder plates. He was probably going to need them after all. Next would come his jewelery, hanging the his necklace from his neck and reattaching his rosary and the two cross-shaped medallions to his clothing. He reached for his gloves before pulling them taut around his digits, flexing his fingers inside the fabric. He retrieved his weaponry afterwards, placing the holster around his waist as it had previously been before looking over his twin pistols with the keen insight of a professional before placing them inside their homes on the back of his waist, then sat on the very same bench to put his boots back on.

He looked over the various reports he'd received with regards to their latest mission as he did so. A number of reports had come in about kidnappings around Italy and the sightings of strange beasts were enough to draw in the Churches attention, and who else to deal with such things than Iscariot? Lacing up his boots and rising to his feet, the cybernetic killing doll cast his glance toward Sister Meabh and Father Diem, giving a nod toward the door as he turned to exit with the two of them.

"Sightings of strange beasts have been reported near a large mansion on the outskirts of Naples. Orders are to kill anything matching the creature's description. Kidnappings have also been current in the area. Possibility of civilians is low, but possible. A watchful eye is recommended."

Exit----------------> Mission

Meabh goes too.


-------> Mission