Workout Center and Sparring Room - V.W.A.T. Base

A large space dominated by a collection of floor mats designed to take a lot a of punishment without injuring the participants - usually. Along the back wall there is a gym set up for those who wish to continue honing their strength and stamina. There is also an enormous climbing wall in an adjacent room.

She strides out onto the well-worn mats, bare feet making not a sound on their cushioned surface. The lighting, it wasn’t so bright as what others normally choose; she liked the subtle shadows, they are where she felt the most comfortable. It is unusual to practice at this time of day - or rather, night - but it fit her schedule, and there was less of an opportunity for someone to interrupt. Not that she minded a person watching, she just preferred an exercise of this nature to be done by herself.

Halting in the dead center of the room, she exhales slowly, flexing every inch of her frame, feeling out the new cut of the suit she wears for protection. It had been recently modified, as parts of it had been riding awkwardly against her skin, portions such as her hips and under her arms constricting her movements, which could lead to dangerous consequences.

Placing both feet together, she bends at her waist, eventually touching her forehead to her knees, arms wrapped around her calves. She exhales again, releasing tension in her back and shoulders before straightening, lifting her arms above her head and contracting, then releasing her core muscles. Closing her eyes, she lowers her arms and shifts elegantly to her knees, rocking back on her feet and relaxing her hands in her lap. A moment goes by in this position before she leans forward, sliding her hands out in front of her on the mat, straightening her legs as she goes, forming an upside down “V” with her body, core muscles being the only thing keeping her from sliding one direction or another.

She breathes deeply, calm and smooth, holding the position for a few moments, enough time to make anyone watching thing she may have been stuck. But that fear is banished soon enough, as she bends her elbows and falls to her forearms. Then, she shows just how collected, balanced, and strong she truly was.

With a slow exhale, she raises both legs up parallel to the floor, holding the pose for more than a few heartbeats before continuing them upward, completely straight, until she was doing a handstand on her forearms. Her body is perfectly vertical, no sign of quivering or shaking to be found, and the only sound in the room is her steady, easy, calm breathing.

The position is held until a longer exhale is heard, and she brings her legs over her head,one at a time, arcing them down until her feet touch the floor, her body bent backwards in an extreme manner. Then her right leg bends at the knee, bringing her foot to her head; her left follows.

She waits in this position for more than a few heartbeats before reversing the entire process, ending back in the pose she began with, one that allowed her to stand fully and stretch her arms above her head, to center her, before bringing them down to her side.

Suddenly, her right hand lashes out in a movement that mimicked a shove, and from there each new advance was one of graceful violence, katas performed fluidly, each style flowing into the next without hesitation.

And the suit…well, the suit seemed to be holding up rather well.

===>ENTRANCE

The trip to the island prison had been a bit taxing. While there was no great physical exertion required, the pure boredom of long flights had worn away at Cole's mentality a bit. Luckily for the archer, the VWAT compound was well-equipped for the remedy in the form of exercise. Weight work wasn't on his fitness schedule for the day so a bit of endurance and coordination work was in order. The obvious choice was a little basketball. Entering the workout center in a dark navy, sleeveless shirt and grey basketball shorts that matched well enough with the solid black gym shoes on his feet, Brandon made his way towards the small basketball court located in the farthest corner of the workout center, a large room adjacent to the traditional gym equipment room and the more open space dedicated to sparring and the like. Keeping a steady rhythm, Cole dribbled a basketball at his waist level, a sound which resounded throughout the open space which, as far as Brandon knew, was unoccupied at this time of day.

Much to the archer's surprise, he found a fellow athlete using the facilities as he passed through the section of the facility covered in floor mats. Specifically, he rounded the doorway only to receive a front row view of a toned ass clothed in a skin tight body suit. Doing a double take, Brandon's mind moved at high speed to process the situation before settling down as he recognized the woman from his study of the personnel files. Eleanor Harkness, she'd been introduced about 6 months ago and specialized in infiltration and the like. Though he'd never gotten the chance to work with in the field or even get to know her that well, he could at least make the claim that he knew of her.

Keeping up his dribble, he passed through the matted area seemingly oblivious to the woman occupying its center or uncaring about how his basketball's bouncing may effect her peace of mind. His leisurely gait unbroken, he continued on his way to the polished hardwood of the basketball court up ahead, the double doors separating the rooms already propped open. "I'd question the motives of the man that designed that suit if I were you. Not that I mind the view," the assassin commented without looking back at the yoga woman.

She’d been at her workout for the better part of an hour when she decided that an intermediate cool down was in order. Slowing her heart rate, settling her breathing, she falls back into the long stretches and collected poses of her yoga training, slipping to the mat and contorting her form into positions that most would cringe at.

Her mind was incredibly clear, even though her body was telling her to take a break, one longer than just a few minutes; she hadn’t had the time as of late to really push herself on the mat. It was a centering thing, this mat; it calmed her and focused her thoughts and it was always there to eat up whatever frustration she may have brought with her to the floor. Now, she felt what little tension remained from the day drain away, falling from her as she stretched through the movements and called on her body to perform as a balanced, well-maintained instrument of combat.

She was in the middle of a full handstand when the sound of a door opening caught her attention. Contracting her core, she splits her legs and angles them parallel to the floor, her muscles still showing no sign of tremor. Then the sound of a basketball being dribbled resounded through the normally quiet room, and she quirked an eyebrow even while focusing on the pose.

She lifts one hand steadily off the mat, performing a split handstand on one hand.

A man comments from somewhere near the double doors leading to the court, a voice familiar, though not because it was spoken towards her. Brandon Cole. He was a soldier, but she couldn’t say much else. Regardless, she can’t help a small smile from touching her lips as she responds.

”I designed it.” She sets her hand back down, then brings both legs together again for a full handstand; she chooses to ignore the bit about his view.

She steps down out of the stand with one leg following the other, returning to her full height and placing her hands together in front of her, exhaling slowly. Her emerald eyes find Mr. Cole through sweat-saturated blonde bangs as he makes his way to the basketball court. Not a man she’d ever spoken with, but she knew some little about him, enough to know he wasn’t one much for conversation.

Her response caused him to pause and that was saying something considering his general lack of interest in his fellow operatives on a day to day basis. Pulling up his dribble, he held the ball against his right hip and did a half turn back to actually look his conversation partner in the eye. She had obviously been working hard for a while now. He could only imagine the amount of work required to maintain strength and flexibility of that caliber. Dedication to fitness was something he could respect but it would take more than that to get him to hold back at least one verbal jab. Without the slightest crack appearing in his stoic expression, he replied in a nearly deadpan tone. "Then I suppose I should question your motives, Eleanor."

Dark locks carrying the slightest tinge of blue in the overhead lighting shifted a bit as the archer tilted his head to the side and gave the yoga master another once over. Far more that simply ogling, Cole was interested in body language above all. The ways in which one built up a body and carried it could tell a lot about a person's abilities and mentality. The skin tight outfit certainly helped matters there. "Rather eye catching choice for a spy," he said. Not expecting, nor really having much interest in a reply, Brandon gave a light shrug and continued through the doorway into the basketball court, his ball dribbling once more.

She turns to face him completely, raising an eyebrow to his statement before sliding down into a full split, arms stretching to one side as she studies him. He was detached from fairly everything she was saying, although she’d managed to catch him at least half-way interested in whatever tiny conversation this was. Reading him for most of her previous instructors would have been bordering on boring, maybe tedious, but she found a certain curiosity in his cool manner, the disinterest he found in those around him.

She was willing to bet he didn’t have many friends.

Turning, she focuses on her other leg now, listening to him without interruption, gauging what would be an appropriate response: did she want to continue this “conversation”, and if so, why? That last bit was a little easier to answer, as she hadn’t found a place with any of the other operatives in this strange crowd. Some were overtly masculine to the point of insanity, others were reckless, some barely human at all. A few had tragic stories that she was sure they would be willing to tell if she was willing to listen, but that was the problem: she wasn’t a nanny, she wasn’t a therapist. She was an assassin and recon operative who spent far too much time training and skirting others who flounced about their “talents” as though they were somehow impermeable to the truth: they would all die.

So maybe that is why she opens her mouth once again, even though all she can see is his retreating back.

”You certainly looked long enough.”

She knew he hadn’t been judging her sensualness and sexual nature in a suit like this; he had been judging her, and for that, she was grateful.

Despite the reverberation that the dribble set throughout the basketball court, his sense of hearing was sharp enough to catch her response thrown at his back. With his face hidden from her view, he allowed himself a pleased smirk. She had enough wit to be a decent conversation partner. While he ignored most of the cons almost entirely, many of the volunteered soldiers were not much better. Zealots and the overly affectionate were as boring to speak with as those that felt the need to act like emotionless robots. Granted, he might have pushed the limits of stoicism himself at times but he liked to believe that his occasional remarks helped alleviate it a bit. Picking up his dribble again, the archer sent the ball flying from the three point line on the basketball court. Flying in a high arc, the orange sphere sailed through the ring without incident and passed through the net with a satisfying swish. As always, his aim was spot on. Following the slight backspin that it had received rolling off his fingertips, the ball began bouncing back towards the archer.

"Can you really blame me while you're posed like that?" he called back. Though he may have lacked the adolescent obsession that some in the organization had with the female form, he was still a man in the prime of life with a libido all his own. Regardless of context, there was a certain level of suggestiveness that came with positions in that attire. Cole certainly wasn't about to apologize for taking a look at a sight worth seeing.

Face doen on the mat, she can’t help the small smile that creeps onto her lips; he wasn’t a child, unable to look away at a woman in a cat suit, but he wasn’t cold and uncaring, either. An interesting man, an outstanding on when compared to the group she was now working with.

Or suffering under.

Rolling to her feet, she stretches one last time and feels every muscle pull and relax, a good feeling of stress that had been placed on them and how well they handled it. She would never say she is proud of her body, but she had certainly formed it into a perfect tool for the job she worked. Padding to the edge of the mat, she begins to unzip the suit from different hidden zippers, all following the curves of her body so as to not create a straight line across her figure; straight lines meant less movement, and she needed all she could get.

”At least I wasn’t naked this time.”

There is no hint of laughter in her voice; the comment was entirely serious, as though a statement of fact. Actually, it was a statement of fact; not more than once had she been down here alone in the odd hours of the night practicing with nothing to restrict her.

Peeling off a top portion of the form-fitted suit as she steps off the mat and onto the strip of floor next to the wall, she reveals the fact that she is wearing quite literally nothing underneath the torso section of the outfit. Facing the wall, duffle bag on the bench at the ready, she retrieves a black sports bra and wiggles into it, frowning slightly at getting something clean all sweaty simply because she’d forgotten a shirt that day.

Picking up his ball again, Brandon decided to indulge himself a bit with what he liked to call "school yard bullshit". Lowering himself into an athletic stance, he increased the tempo of his dribble before crossing it back and forth between his hands and eventually passing the ball between his legs and behind his back with practiced skill. The movements had a certain rhythm to them, a natural beat that was inherently his own. As with anything, the progression of the sport of basketball had led to "idealized" forms which could be learned by anyone. They could also be predicted. Not at all interested in the idea of his actions being predicted, Brandon had never taken a lesson. His skill was entirely overflow from his military skills and natural instinct honed from exercises just like this; simply playing around. Setting up his imaginary defenders, Cole feinted and made his drive for the basket, pushing off with his left lag to slam the ball through the hoop with a dunk.

Hanging off the rim a moment, Brandon finally dropped down to the floor below and kept his back to the door. Even with his attention on his game, he'd maintained enough awareness of his environment to catch her response and the sound of her undressing. Perhaps against the better advice of his instinct, Cole resisted the urge to turn and take in the sight that he was sure awaited him. "Out of respect, I'm going to avoid turning around any time soon. Do me a favor and don't slip a knife in my back will you?" Brandon called out to her, backpedaling into a power forward's ideal position and taking a formless shot at the basket, bouncing the ball off the backboard and through the hoop. And there was the sound of fabric rustling against fabric. A towel or a shirt from that gym bag he'd spied earlier perhaps. Either way, he'd keep his word until she gave the all clear.

The sound of the basketball being run through a series of rhythms made her lips turn up in a slight grin; none of the other operatives broke free from standard training to do something so innocuous as playing ball. Situated in her bra, she finishes unzipping the top part of the suit, revealing it to actually be made of two pieces, the second section covering her high on her hips and lower down her stomach. She wanted it to be in an easily removed sections in case of an emergency; one never knew when one would need to be held together with gauze and plastic wrap.

Grabbing the fluffy white towel from her bag, she begins to dry out her messy blonde mane while walking towards the double doors to the court, leaning against one as she watches him play. There was a calming sensation to the rhythm he produced with the ball, and she could see why he would favour this sort of activity as a surrogate for training and meditation all in the same package.

”I go for the throat, Mr. Cole. Higher success rate.”

There is a smile on her lips as she continues fluffing out her mop of hair, then drags the towel down to begin wiping down her neck, shoulders, and chest; the suit breathed, but after being in it for so long - and without a break in activity level – she had begun to feel the heat rather intensely. She would have to talk to the fabricator about that. Just one more thing to get right.

Working deeper into his natural groove, Brandon could already feel the first traces of sweat forming on the back of his neck. While effective and visually impressive, this little exercise of his relied heavily on dynamic, seemingly wild movements to actually work. Because of that, it could tire one out very quickly. Luckily, Cole had endurance in spades and the presence of sweat only meant that his body was finally getting properly warmed up to full throttle. Working the ball through his legs again, the archer feigned losing control of his dribble only to flick the ball upward towards the hoop. He knew it wouldn't go in on it's own. It wasn't supposed to. Following the ball up, Brandon leaped up from just short of the free throw line and palmed the ball as it came off the rim, slamming it bock through in a one man alley-oop. This time, he decided not to hang onto the rim and simply dropped after his ball, reclaiming possession of it before it bounced away.

The woman's response lived up the the expectations he'd set for her by this point. She had a quick tongue and an efficient method for neutralizing targets. Not bad, but how was her awareness. Hold the ball at chest level facing away from her, Cole waited for her to finish speaking, for the sound of that towel rubbing against her head. As soon as he heard it, he rotated towards the door and hurled the basketball full force directly at her head. Relaxing was one thing, being oblivious to one's environment was another matter entirely. A matter which would influence his opinion of her effectiveness in the field.

He was impressive, she would give him that. It had taken him this long for exertion to begin to show; the sweat on his brow and the dampness of his clothing were signs of a workout beginning to take effect. His movements were planned, but there was something  else below that, something that spoke of complete control, of an awareness that very few had. She studied him for a long moment as he “played”, taking in how he moved, how he reacted, how he breathed; interestingly enough, she had the sense that he was enjoying himself. She could understand the sentiment, and she wished more of their little band of merry men could understand it as well. They were all so uptight or “damaged”, unwilling to adapt to anything or anyone. It irked her at times, how narrow these people could be.

Her head had turned to give her better access to the back of her neck, the towel soaking away the remaining damp that had begun to cool in the dry air of the room, when she felt an object come hurtling her way. It was without warning, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

In a single, smooth motion, she takes the towel in both hands, and with an incredible show of dexterity, catches the ball in the white rectangle of wet material, letting it hang for only a moment before flipping it back towards him at great speed, aided by the push the leverage of the towel gave her. This was a banter of sorts for him. For them both. He was challenging her, seeing if she lived up to some standard of his, and she was responding with nothing but herself, pushing him little by little, testing the water between them to see just what sort of future this meeting would dump them in.

Hmpf. That was an interesting maneuver. He could understand the rationale behind it, but it wasn't something that fit his style all that well. Either way, the ball came flying back at speed aided by that improvised sling of hers. Extending his left arm fully, the ball impacted in the center of his palm and came to a startling halt. Held up by the strength of his grip for a moment, the ball eventually fell to gravity's embrace as Brandon began dribbling it again. He could feel a slight tingle in his left palm as he continued to dribble the ball. That toss had some umpf behind it alright. Holding the ball under his left arm, he slowly walked back to where she stood in the doorway. Standing at a distance a bit below arm's reach, the archer looked down at the blond woman for a moment, sweat still collected across his body despite his breathing being completely even. An eyebrow quirked for a split second in time and he extended his right hand to her. "Brandon will be fine...Eleanor," he said, taking the initiative to dictate the level of formality that he wanted their interactions to have. That is to say almost none.

She could tell by the quick flash of thought across his face that her action hadn’t been one he was expecting. Or hoping for? He had been gauging her this entire time, and she had been returning the favor with every expression he made, every movement of his body. She may not had slung a basketball at his head, but no matter how good he was, there is always some thought and emotion that leaks through in everything a person does.

He was no exception.

So when he steps up close to her, she files it away under “personal space” but without a label just yet. She didn’t mind his proximity – if she did, she would have failed at her job long ago, dealing with all sorts of men in tight spaces, men with agendas – and she didn’t think it was a power play. Taking his proffered hand, she looks up to him with a wry, ghostly smile, one that didn’t necessarily mean happiness, but something closer to respect.

”Do we get pet names too? Or does that come later?”

She couldn’t help herself. The words just went from her brain to her lips and though most people would take them as sarcastic or disrespectful, she knew them to be simply a thought of the moment, one brought on by his desire to bring down their level of formality.

His fingers closed around hers and gave it a light squeeze, shaking her hand before releasing it and allowing his own to drop to his side in a relaxed manner. That was probably what stood out the most about this one, outside of the contortionist physique obviously. It was the fact that she could stay loose. The kill-crazed psychos were always too excited, the steely eyed soldiers tried way too hard. This woman actually managed to relax a bit. That, more than anything, was refreshing. Her joke sent a spark of life through his dark blue eyes and he returned her half smile with one of his own, stopping just short of displaying any teeth.

"Keep prancing around in that liquid latex you call body armor and we just might."

Her hand falls from his and she places it on one cocked hip, her other hand resting the towel on her shoulder. At his comment, she almost laughs, turning from him and fluffing her hair again, making her way back to her gym bag. On her way, she continues whatever conversation this was turning into.

”So what do you do, Brandon?”

She didn’t want to know his life story, and she didn’t need to know his hopes and fears for the future. She simply wanted to know his job, his role in this entire tangled mess of an organization. Stopping at her bag, she tosses in the towel and begins to unzip the bottom half of her suit, peeling out of the fitted material to reveal underwear that was a little smaller than normally considered appropriate to share in unfamiliar company.

She didn’t care. She’d taken showers with men of a questionable nature in shower stalls that couldn’t produce water any hotter than the freezing temperature outside. So standing here in her underwear meant little to nothing to her. She doesn’t really wait for – or care about – a reaction; she reaches into her bag and pulls out running tights, leggings that were designed to take a lot of friction and wear; rather good for her “cool down” uses.

He watched her walk away, enjoying it a bit more than he would have liked to admit. Bouncing the ball off the floor a few times, he rotated his gaze a bit to put her in his peripheral. The Army certainly didn't make men shy but openness aside, the idea of simply staring at a strange woman as she changed was not to Cole's liking. That being said, he added her willingness to do such an act to his mental file on her which continuously grew more detailed with each passing moment. Bringing the ball up, he balanced it on the tip of his middle finger and gave it a spin as he mulled over the question and leaned against the now vacant doorway. Simply calling himself an assassin would probably suffice but he wasn't all that fond of that moniker.

"I'm not all that unique. Steeler has a laundry list of targets, I go in, survey and neutralize with as much precision as possible. I doubt you're a stranger to any of that yourself" he exclaimed, thinking back to the file on her he'd read through some time ago. Details were of course long forgotten but he knew enough of her experience and skill set to have an idea on just what her job was in this secret club of theirs.

Slipping into the leggings, the blonde woman takes a moment to consider his words. Not all that unique. So terribly untrue. She could tell from the look of him, the way he moved, that he was not the typical operative, particularly the way he was built. She rummages around in the duffle for a second to produce a water bottle. Flipping the cap open, she hesitates before putting it to her lips.

"Except you don't "neutralize" like everyone else, do you."

It wasn't a question; even if she hadn't read up on him - as she did everyone she had the possibility of working with - she could see the mark of a man who didn't just use a gun or his fists. Taking a quick drink, she motions with her hand to his shoulders.

"Those are slightly off. I know the reason, but I'll bet you can give me a better description of why than a dry file."

She'd really started fishing now. He probably wouldn't mind it all that much, Lord knew he did plenty of it, if she'd gone after information that she didn't have already. But her statement that she already knew the reason for his well-developed shoulders irked him a bit. Asking him to drone on about information she had felt repetitive and annoying. Despite his slight annoyance, he'd allow her a bit of leeway the first time. "If you know the reason for them there's not much point in asking now is there?"

Pushing off the doorframe, Brandon let the ball bounce off the ground once and proceeded a few feet out onto the court to use the closer rather than the one he'd been playing with earlier at the opposite end of the court. This would make conversation a bit easier without having to shout over his shoulder to her. Lobbing the ball up with what seemed to be a complete lack of form or concern for accuracy, Brandon put the orange ball right through the hoop without any trouble. Catching the rebound, he cycled back into his "school yard bullshit" dribbling and continued the conversation. "There's really not much to tell. I'm good with a bow so I use it," he said as a matter of fact. It never ceased to amaze him how many people tried to uncover the "secret" to his weapon choice. He hadn't been stranded on a desert island, he hadn't grown up as a circus performer. He tried archery on a lark and happened to enjoy it. Was the ordinary truly so extrordinary?

Ah, there it was. The slight uncontrollable twitch that gave away his irked reaction to her question. So that's how this would go. Taking another drink, she pops the lid back on the bottle before tossing it back into the bag. Stretching one arm behind her neck, she follows him out onto the court, standing loosely a couple yards from his dribbling, irked form.

"Fair enough."

She meant it. If he resented talking about his methods, then she wouldn't ask again. Instead, she takes a stance that tells him she wants in on his little game of one, a small smile on her face and and any number of reactions running through her head; he could ignore her, tell her no, pass her the ball, fuss at her for interrupting, etc. But she had the feeling that even though she'd taken a false step, he would be willing to overlook it if she didn't press more for the moment. At least, not on things she already knew about.

---------> Guantanamo Bay

Soo Young walked toward the gym it had taken her a few minutes to squeeze the location of the Gym out of one of the guards assigned to show her to her quarters. Her dossier had been given to most of the guards in the facility and this made them hateful and wary of the Korean. It didn't matter to her however as long as they served their purpose they had at least some measure of value in her eyes. As she made her way to the gym she passed multiple men and women word of VWAT's new arrival had been made known clearly amongst the staff and most of the looks she received were either full of hate or fear from what she'd seen so far. Finally she reached her destination and pushed the door open. She'd been given some basic clothing to supplement her wardrobe and she'd chosen to wear a black tanktop that ended just above her belly button and a pair of plain black sweat pants. Her hands and feet were wrapped in bandages that she'd scavenged from a first aid kit she'd found in her medicine cabinet.

Padding into the room she noticed two others in the room. One was the object of her interests as of late Brandon Cole. The other was unfamiliar to her a blonde haired woman who was dressed in her underclothes. Most people they would blush and back out of the room apologizing. But Soo Young wasn't most people she spared a glance to both people in the room before heading over to the heavy bags lining the walls. Neither person or what they were doing was her concern at the moment. Time in Guantanamo had impeded her from honing her skills. Time wasted rotting away in that hell hole. The only thing she regretted is that her skills might have dulled while she sat around in that straight jacket.

She sat down on the mat infront of the heavy bags and got to one knee and extended her right leg outward infront of her feeling the muscles in her leg stretch as she stretched it completely outward she winced as she felt the unused muscles stretch. She brought her right leg inward and sat on her knee while stretching out her left leg as well. Finally she laid straight out on the ground and brought her legs up ward moving them up past her head leaving only her shoulders pressed against the mat, she held this pose for almost 30 seconds before bringing her legs back down and getting to her feet. Normally she'd stretch more but she needed to gauge how much her skills had dulled while locked up.

Approaching the bag she tightened the knots fastening the bandages around her feet and hands and took up a standard combat stance taught to her in the North Korean Military. Her hands were raised protecting her head and her body was turned just as she was taught to make herself a smaller target. Most of her weight was shifted on her back left leg leaving her right leg more weightless and easier to use. She stared at the point of impact she'd be hitting and quickly landed a hard spinning hook kick with her right leg her hitting the bag with enough force to cause it to swing back and forth by the chain holding it as nearly 1500 pounds of force struck it. She quickly brought her right leg up landing three kicks on the other side of the bag landing low chest level and head level in quick succession before backing away out of what would be another fighters striking distance.

She steadied her breathing watching the bag slowly steady itself she frowned as she realized how much slower she'd grown since she'd last trained. "Dammnit..." She muttered her eyes narrowing a bit. She'd need to train more in order get her speed back up to it's peak.

She wanted to play eh?  That was fine with him.  Weaving his way between imaginary defenders could only go so far to entertain him at this point so a physical body would be fun to play around with.  A slight smirk appeared on his face and he nodded his acknowledgement to her; she could play.  Even as Eleanor entered the court, Brandon caught sight of their newest "recruit" from Guantanamo Bay.  The North Korean terrorist began her own stretching routine in front of the heavy bags.  Probably restless after all that time locked up.  Noting the strange popularity of the workout room tonight, Brandon temporarily left Seung to her training and refocused on Harkness.  Increasing the tempo of his dribble, Cole made the motions even more erratic and wild, his weight evenly on the ball of each foot.  

"You any good at basketball?" the archer asked before immediately making his drive for the basket from the outside.  Ball dribbling in his left hand, Cole was rushing in from the outside, Eleanor's right side for a power layup.  At least, that's what she was supposed to think.  Dropping to a near dead stop on a dime, he feinted hard directly forward as if to charge right through her and then sent another to the left.  These were followed by a blistering crossover between his legs, sending the ball to his right hand and his drive heading back to the center of the lane with a classic ankle breaker move designed to overweight one of the yoga master's feet and send her falling onto her ass as Cole pushed into the air past her and forcefully dunked the ball through the hoop.

OOC: Example of an ankle breaker http://31.media.tumblr.com/be781d926b4b4210ea9a523a5965b2c9/tumblr_mla5vrJ2Tv1s5pkhto1_500.gif

She’d heard another person enter the room, and then a heavy bag being used, but she didn’t turn to look; if it had been someone looking for a partner or two, they would have asked. The woman was rather pleased in some small way to play, given that her time on the base was mostly spent in briefing rooms or in training or in some other, non-entertaining sort of manner. Sure, she enjoyed her moments alone, going through the motions that so soothed her, but there was only so much alone time someone could take. She wasn’t one of those people that preferred to be alone; she enjoyed the company of others, especially those who were receptive to an attitude that wasn’t cold, or dark, or insane, or any of the other words she could use to describe most everyone on this – at times – insufferable base.

She bounces on the balls of her feet for a moment before engaging in this new conversation they were having, following his moves until she realized they were about to put her on her ass. Laughing aloud, she manages to halt her momentum – a trick that required total body control – and stumble with at least a little grace as he jukes past her and rather soundly dunks the ball. Grinning without reservation she answers him as she moves forward to cover him again.

”Ha, God no. I’m terrible.”

During the small skirmish on the basketball court between her two companions in the room Soo Young had been trying to increase the speed of her strikes. Each strike coming faster than the last but still not fast enough to suit her satisfaction. She'd been way faster before she'd been captured and her current progress left a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. She struck the bag once more with another spinning heel kick striking the bag hard causing it to sway back and forth before quickly striking the side of the bag 3 times each kick landing solidly against the stationary target. Taking a moment to gather her wits about her she took a step back her eyes narrowing at the swinging heavy bag as if it were the reason behind her failures. She whipped a bit of sweat away from her brow before walking a short distance away her hands upon her hips. Her shirt felt heavy and just noticed now the the moisture that weighed her clothing down. She slipped her shirt over her head and tossed it onto a nearby bench before turning back to the heavy bag. Her gaze remained neutral for a moment before she took a few steps forward and launched a round house kick causing the bag to fly back striking the wall hard with a loud resounding thump.

She thought about it for a moment as she watched the bag swing back and forth before finally coming to a stop. Fighting this bag wasn't the same as her time in the NKSOF or in her time as a terrorist. She'd had live sparring partners in those times. She longed to feel her fists impact live living flesh, To feel bones snap beneath the force of her strikes and to hear the screams of her enemy or their dying breaths before their eyes went blank in death. She needed a proper opponent not an inanimate object. She glanced over at the two on the basketball court and wondered if either would be a good sparring partner. By the way they both moved and operated they both seemed like very versatile opponents. But both seemed occupied with one another at the moment she approached the edge of the court her arms crossed over her chest. She'd never been one for conversation but decided that her thirst for actual combat needed to be sated in order for her to refine her skills once more.

"I need a sparring partner...Either of you interested?"

Flashing by the contortionist, Cole felt surprising lack of resistance. That feint had put plenty of sure foot players on their ass every time but this woman had managed to save herself. Granted, staying on one's feet meant nothing when you couldn't block the shot but the body control was impressive nonetheless. Dropping down from the rim, Brandon held the ball with both hands against his chest and looked at the woman for a bit with the expression of a man attempting to unravel the secret behind a magician's magic trick. It felt quite odd since he had been the one utilizing confusing tricks just a few seconds ago and yet here he was, mystified by the laughter.

Was she serious? Was this all an act to lure him into a false sense of superiority? The sudden burst of emotion was startling when compared to her earlier stoicism flavored with a dry wit. Then again, maybe he was looking too deeply into this. Sometimes a cigar was just a fucking cigar after all. "Let's test that," he said, bouncing the ball to Eleanor and gesturing with his head for her to take the ball out from the top of the key. Even if her offense didn't wind up being any more impressive than defense, there was a certain enjoyment to be had from playing with someone that was honestly having fun despite their performance. Brandon hadn't gotten to experience that in some time.

Feeling the approach of the terrorist before he heard her, Brandon angled himself so that Soo Young remained in her peripheral vision while remaining in a centered athletic stance between Eleanor and the basket. Sparring partner eh? She really was restless. While he was no slouch in CQC, Brandon's talents came through best at medium range with a bow in hand. Besides, prior experience sparring convicts tended to end in one or both of the participants receiving some form of injury. Cole wasn't about to jeopardize his performance in his next mission for something as small as a spar. "One of us can probably help you out. Give me twenty seconds," he replied to the Korean, laying down a time challenge to Eleanor. In all honesty, the time wasn't that big an issue as one on one plays almost never ran that long.

The look on his face was…interesting to say the least. She’d simply shown a bit more of her personality, and now he was looking at her as if she were some mystifying puzzle he couldn’t quite grasp. It didn’t surprise her, really; her ability to laugh, to enjoy the company of others seemed lost on most of the soldiers and convicts and operatives that populated the base. She didn’t care that at any moment she could be called up to do a mission that could most likely kill her; she would make the most of what she’d been given in this new life, and if that meant playing ball with a man that had at least the decency to turn away from her while she was changing, well, then, she was going to take the opportunity as far as it would go.

Catching the ball, she dribbles it a few times, slowly, feeling to weight of the thing, how it reacted to the force she placed on it; it had been such a long time since she’d played on anything resembling a court. The last time was a dirt lot behind an abandoned arms factory in Kuwait, with children ranging from five on up to fifteen. She couldn’t play then, either, but the act of frolicking about with people who wanted nothing more than to bounce a ball around a scrap-yard court had counted for something in her book.

She moves towards the man just as the new woman asked for a sparring partner. The blonde doesn’t respond; Brandon does that for them both. Moving in, she dribbles faster, then ducks into the very same maneuver that the man performed earlier. She’d studied him, the way he’d moved, and though her repetition of the act may not be perfect, it would allow her to swing past him on her way to the hoop, where she performs a lay-up that was proficient, though not pretty.

Catching the ball on its rebound, she dribbles it once again before tossing it back to the taller man, a small smile on her face, not one of pride or satisfaction, but one that said she’d actually enjoyed their little game. Cutting her green eyes to the new woman, she sweeps her hair back from her eyes and frowns; sparring with someone unknown - someone who obviously wouldn’t hold anything back and thus could cause enormous problems with her health – was never on her list of things to do, but it seemed rather rude to simply ignore the girl.

”Thirty seconds. I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

Her eyes return to her new basketball buddy.

”And then lunch. I’m starving.”

It was an invitation; he could take it or ignore it. Either way, she was getting out of this place long enough to grab a bite to eat that wasn’t reheated in an industrial microwave.

"Very well then..." Soo Young said to both of their answers.

Soo Young stood off to the side of the court watching their game with interest. She'd received her answer and wouldn't interrupt further. She sat on a bench on the sidelines crossing her arms as she watched the graceful movements of the players on the court as they faced off. She couldn't help but notice the smiles upon the faces of both players and turned her gaze downward. All her life she'd been told to shut out any emotions that could spark any rebellious thoughts. She was another product of North Korean propaganda a emotionless killing prodigy. She couldn't help but feel envious of the people on the court deep inside within the confines of her dead heart.

She couldn't help but feel her curiosity peak she wanted to know how it felt to be happy. Her mind was now completely detached from the game in front of her. To onlooker she just seemed to be watching the game but in reality she was trapped in a mental argument with three separate sides of her mind. The first being the side raised to be a soldier back in North Korea which screamed at her to block out these ridiculous thoughts of happiness and condemning her for working for Imperialist Americans, The second was the sadistic cold hearted murderer that had been created by years serving in the NKSOF that told her that killing was her path to happiness, And the last was the child like curiosity that refused to fade from her mind the child that wanted to know things that it had never gotten to experience.

She grit her teeth as each voice screamed it's argument within her mind trying to drown out the other voices in her head. Her fists clenched at her sides but her face remained neutral. She wanted all of these voices to go silent.

"Your a soldier a machine not a person act like it Happiness is a false notion that has no purpose!!!" A stern sounding voice called within her head mind

Another voice spoke within her mind this one sounding cool and almost seductive in the way it spoke, "Are we really arguing about this? You don't need to smile to be happy you just need to kill...Don't you remember?" The voice said falling silent before continuing with a smug tone. "The Philippines...you drowned that soldier in mud you loved it...The feel of his life slowly draining away at your discretion...You were happy..." The voice said.

Finally a third voice spoke up this one silencing the other two making itself clearly heard. "How can you both talk about what makes us happy...Or what happiness is...When we've never felt it or experienced it..." The voice said sounding almost shy in a child-like way. "We don't know happiness...We want to know..." The voice said before drifting away into silence.

Soo Young finally sighed as the voices silenced, It was only now she noticed that her head was bowed and her elbows rested upon her knees and her fingers were pulling at her hair just slightly. She took a deep breath before sitting straight once more hoping that no one had seen her episode of brief insanity. She cursed herself mentally this time in her own voice and mind for letting those thoughts escape her control.

Alright Eleanor, let's see what yo-hm!?" Brandon's unspoken train of thought was immediately cut short as Harkness made her move, his move. She hadn't lied about not being an especially strong player and Cole didn't believe that his decision to take her at her word was wrong. However, basketball skill aside he hadn't counted on her ability to replicate another person's movements that quickly. Though her movements weren't sharp enough to break his footing, Brandon was caught off guard enough by the more itself that she sped past him and lobbed the ball through the basket without incident. Watching her rise through the air, the pieces began to fall into place inside the archer's head. The ability to mimic and adapt to one's surroundings, it was the perfect weapon for a trained infiltrator like Harkness. He mentally kicked himself for not expecting a trick like that. His feint smile came into full bloom, showing some teeth as he caught her pass and held it against his hip. With Eleanor having accepted Soo Young's request for a sparring partner, the situation had changed.

Turning his observing eye to the former terrorist, Brandon could quite clearly see the gears turning in her head. Though he had no way of knowing the nature of her struggle, Cole knew a woman on shaky ground when he saw one. Not all that out of the ordinary in V.W.A.T. when there were monsters like Russo and Teatime among the organizations list of past operatives. The difficulty came with her specialty. If a madman with a knife decided to throw it all to hell and make an ass of himself it was just one dead man. But this woman was an artist with explosives. He made a note to give her equipment a wide berth in the field until he was sure she was stable enough for high level combat.

Rubbing out a kink in his neck, Cole slipped a hand into his pocket and returned to the room with floor padding to observe this little spar. Setting himself down on one of the benches, Brandon placed his basketball between his feet and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "I'll keep the time. Let's get a move on before everything closes down for the night."

She as glad to see him smile, not just a quirk of his lips, but an actual, honest-to-God smile. So he isn’t as stoic as he likes to think he is. Following him off the court, she takes a hop step to remove one of her trainers, then switches to remove the other. Tossing them down on the floor beneath her bag, she pads onto the mat, languidly stretching her arms, then bringing her right leg up behind her back, grabbing it with her hands and pulling it till it met her head. She holds it for a second and then repeats the process with her other leg.

"I hope you aren't always in this much of a rush."

Her eyes don't fall back to the man on the bench, but it is obvious who she is speaking to. Once reaching the center of the mat, she stands loosely, emerald eyes watching the obviously unstable woman following. There was something off about her, and she knew it had something to do with the pain she was feeling, and she wasn’t speaking of pain in a physical nature. The girl, she’d seemed unable to process the emotions around her when she was watching them on the court, the small expressions she couldn’t hide giving away the uncertainty shed felt at the time.

And then there was that little episode of hers.

Mind running through what she saw, sifting through the information, Eleanor began to form a picture of the convict in her mind, one that she was adding to with every step the girl made. She stands relaxed, not taking up any stance or position to indicate she was ready. She simply motions to the girl with one hand, encouraging her to the mat in a hurried fashion, as though they needed to get on with it or they would miss something important.

Soo Young walked out onto the mat she could feel the anticipation slowly building inside of her as she pads onto the mat walking until she reached the center and turned to face her opponent. Had she still been in the KPA she probably would have bowed but such formalities had died along time ago. Now she saw combat for what it was cruel, unforgiving and deadly there was no place for formality or honor anymore. In combat there was only a victor and a loser and she'd learned long ago which she decided to be. Her eyes studied the woman in front of her the woman seemed so loose and relaxed. There was something slightly unnerving about it in her mind. She pushed the thought to the back recesses of her mind she'd just need to be cautious in this bout.

She scowled as she felt something whisper in her mind so clearly that she could of swore the owner of the voice was whispering it straight into her ear. "Beat her...Destroy her...Kill her..." the voice whispered. Soo Young scowled shaking the thought from her mind once more, She wouldn't allow herself to expose such weakness again. She shifted into her combat stance keeping her hands up and her legs spread apart as she positioned her body to the side. The movements were well practiced performed without a hint of hesitation. She mentally began to countdown the time she had. She wasn't much a fan for time limits but she had to admit it put a certain amount of excitement to things.

"You enjoy it...The rush...The feel of bones breaking and organs rupturing...don't deny it..." The same voice from before whispered. Soo Young couldn't deny it the voice was right to an extent. The voice seemed satisfied with Soo Young's acceptance as it fell silent.

Soo Young slid her feet across the mat to maintain her balance, The woman had not taken up any stance whatsoever this was troubling in her eyes but time gave her no chance to ponder upon it. She shifted her weight onto her left leg but just enough so that she could still use it on a moments notice as she came closer. As she approached she let her right knee rise up to her waist before extending her leg forward launching a front snap kick to test what this woman was capable of. She'd test the waters first and then see if she could swim in them.

There was something going on in the girl’s head, and it didn’t have anything to do with the fight. At least, not the one in front of her. Eleanor watches as the Korean convict strides towards her, and makes snap judgments on the stance she takes; she was structured, and rigid, but something told her there was a bit of flexibility she hadn’t seen there before. Maybe this girl had a little more in her than angles and strikes.

Of course, that is the first thing to come her way.

The younger woman had broadcast the move, and part of the blonds thinks it is designed to feel out how this “fight” was supposed to go.

That wasn’t how things were played.

They had thirty seconds, only thirty seconds to feel one another out, and trying to “feel out” you opponent with a broadcasted kick wasn’t exactly the most insightful first move. However, it did give her a greater understanding of the girl’s style; she wanted to judge distance, wanted to keep away for the moment. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as the kick reached within centimeters of her core, the blonde shifts her balance and slides out of the way. At the same time, her right hand takes hold of the girl’s toes, while her left grabs Soo’s ankle, and with a vicious snap of her wrists, she twists the leg back towards the girl’s body, forcing her to either go down or break a few small bones.

"When did I allow myself to grow so weak..." Soo Young thought as her kick was dodged much to her surprise. She winced biting back a groan of pain as the woman began to twist her ankle after grabbing hold of the limb.

The moment Soo Young felt the pressure the girl had on her she quickly put a new strategy into motion. From the first move it seemed he was going up against a evasive fighter. A counter striker not a bruiser like many others she had fought. As the woman twisted her foot Soo allowed herself to fall catching herself by placing her hands backwards and turning into the twisting movement the woman was putting on her foot. As she turned her body using her hands pivoting the weight of her body she brought her left leg back against the woman's legs using her heel to strike out at the woman's shins which she hoped would give her some breathing space.

She'd needed to be aware in this fight she'd nearly just had her ankle broken and the fight had only just begun. In war such an injury could easily spell out death for her. The close call made her angry not at her opponent but at herself. Her mind was berating herself as to how she could so easily have fallen out of practice. She growled in annoyance as one of the voices decided to voice it's opinion. "You see!? Your weak!! Your humanity is dragging you down be the machine that you are!!" The voice screamed it's bellows echoing in her ears.

As she launched the kick at the woman's shins she would turn then recoil her foot back if successful and launch a straight front snap kick towards the woman's wrist aiming to force it to release her ankle.

She didn’t need to see the girl’s face to know there was anger already rearing its head in this fight. The struggle she’d been in since the fight had started had been one the blonde hadn’t missed; the girl, she was hurting, and no operative could be effective when in that state. She would need to learn to move past it, or die with it hanging around her neck, heavier than the collar she now wore.

Her hands had remained on the fallen woman’s foot long enough to get a feel for the Korean’s next move; when it came, it was fast, but not completely surprising.

Jerking the foot – and subsequently leg – towards her, she waits for the last moment before pushing off with both of her long legs, using the held foot as a hinge point. Her thighs, her core angled her up and over the girl, flipping her body until her feet came down on either side of the girl’s downed head. She had somersaulted over the girl using the Korean woman’s leg as a point to pivot from, and once her feet landed, she took two calculated steps back, waiting for the girl to stand or lay there in her anger.

Christ these girls were flashy.  It was a realistic outcome when a gymnast and a taekwondo master faced off but Cole still shook his head.  All that spinning and kicking just wasn't his style.  Clapping his hands as Harkness stepped back, Brandon rose to his feet and picked up his ball, spinning it on his right index finger.  "That's time.  You two wanna keep at it, I won't stop you but all that talk about food has me hungry," the archer said with a shrug, moving towards the door.  He added another footnote to his mental files on both of them.  Each had substantial skill in unarmed combat.  If pressed, he was confident he could hold his own and maybe even snatch a victory when it really counted but the difference was too thin to be reliable.  They had the edge on him and he knew it.  If the day came that either of them became a target, the response would need to be from a distance.  However, all that was a massive "what if" for now.  Brandon knew when to draw the line between preparedness and being a paranoid pessimist.  For the here and now, he could simply enjoy dinner and be done with it.

Soo Young's eyes widened as she felt the woman pull her legs toward her causing her arms their grip on the mat. As she lay on her back upon the mat she saw the woman kick off the floor using her foot a point of balance to flip over her with. She felt her blood run cold as she felt the woman's feet impact the mat hard on either side of her head. That near brush with death left a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had she really fallen so far from what she had been. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment before rolling onto her stomach and getting to her feet.

This woman was fast, efficient and she seemed to know the flow of battle way better than Soo Young did. One of the voices fought trying to make it's voice heard amongst the recesses of Soo Young's mind but the sound was drowned out not by another voice but by silence. Soo Young's mind was clear now. The near brush with death had silenced brought her mind to the present. The here and now was where she was.

Without wasting a moment Soo Young rushed forward aiming a left hook toward the woman's face. But stopped as Brandon called time her punch stopped mid-action before she lowered her hand and took a deep breath. "Thank you...That was...Enlightening..." Soo Young said she placed her right hand in her left palm and bowed. A formality she had abandoned long ago but felt this woman deserved. "Please...don't allow me to impeded any of your plans..." Soo Young said in a neutral tone. The woman was skilled that was something she knew for sure.

She turned away to sit upon the bench the brief spar hadn't left her tired but more mentally drained. The voices within her mind refused to stop bickering it made her open and weak. She clasped her hands together and squeezed tightly, Sooner or later only one voice would remain and that would be her own she refused to allow her own mentality to be her weakness.

There was going to be another attack. The hard current of anger and…self-loathing?...was evident in the younger woman, and Eleanor knew she wasn’t going to be one to simply lay there and admit submission. So when that rush happened, when that strike came flying at her, she waited. She waited and watched as the fist came ever closer…

And then time was called.

Exhaling slowly, she took a small bow in return to the convict’s, and followed the woman off the mat, passing her to retrieve her bag and shoes. But on her way by, she speaks up, words menat only for the girl’s ears.

”Let it go.”

Grabbing up her thigns, she ambles off to the locker room, intent on a quick shower and a change of clothing; as much as she liked the feeling of a good workout, she didn’t like wearing it around for the rest of the day.

Swinging open the double doors to the locker room, she wanders down a row until she finds her own, unlocking it after dumping her gear on the bench running lengthways through the room. Pulling out a fresh set of clothing – bra, tank top, underwear and tight black pants – she begins to strip again, peeling out of her sports bra and tights, leaving the thin underwear on as she hauls out a towel and a bottle of soap, making her way to the shower stalls with a small smile on her lips; today had been good. The only sticking point was the young convict she’d sparred with. The girl bothered her, and not in a bad way. There was something about her that made Eleanor want to stop and ask why, though she knew doing such a thing might get her head ripped off.

Stepping into a stall, and stripping out of her underwear, she turns on the water and doesn’t wait for it to get hot. Standing under the cold water for a moment or two, she thinks about the last time she was allowed to spar and play basketball without the threat of someone dying hanging over her head.

She couldn’t recall a time in recent memory.

Scrubbing her short blonde locks, and then her tanned skin, she hurriedly makes an exit after rinsing completely. Wrapping the towel around her, she pads pack to her locker, tossing her dirty clothing into her bag while dropping the towel slightly so as to have better access to dry her hair. Satisfied that most of her was clean enough to go out into public, she begins to dress, putting on the layers until she was considered decent again.

But there was one more layer left.

By the time that Eleanor arrived in the locker room, Cole had already taken a seat on one of the benches in the more male oriented side of the facility. Though both genders used the same locker room, an unspoken social code of conduct had split certain areas into male and female dominated sections. Having retrieved a towel from his locker, he stripped out of his damp shirt and began dabbing half-dried sweat off the back of his neck. Off came the black gym shoes and soaked socks, leaving him barefoot on the cold tiles. Towel draped around his neck, he made his way to the sinks to wet it thoroughly. As he passed the showers, he could just barely make out the silhouette of Harkness washing off. Knowing that she couldn't see his expression, he smirked a bit and continued on to the sink to soak his towel completely. Using the now wet fabric to properly cleanse his upper body, he strolled back to his locker, towel hanging over his head and partially obscuring his vision so that he was unable to see the now changing spy seated at a row of lockers neighboring his own.

Sitting back down, he redressed into a fresh pair of boxers, socks and street shoes along with a pair of dark wash jeans matched by a simple black t-shirt and wind breaker. As he bent over to tie his shoes, he called across the locker room to the contortionist. "You about ready?"

As Soo Young sat alone in the gym lost within her own thoughts while Brandon and the woman had retreated into the locker room, The door to the gym opened revealing a small security detail of men armed with handguns and what seemed to be cattle prods. "Soo Young, Seung your being assigned to a mission with JNVDO operative Yuu Koutari." One of the men said. Soo Young looked up at the men maintaining eye contact with them for a moment before getting to her feet and pushing past them. "Let's go then...The more of these creatures I kill the closer I get to my freedom..." Soo Young said simply.

The security detail followed Soo Young out remaining close behind and eventually leading her to where Yuu would be waiting for her.

------------> Exit

She stuffs what remains of her dirty laundry and towels into the duffle, which upon further inspection, seems a little harder and back-pack like than anything else. Once the bag is zipped, she reaches into the locker for a pair of black pants, padded around the knees. Slipping them on over her skin tight leggings, she laces them up the front, loving the way they hugged her hips and thighs; there was something so good about the feel of that fabric, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Out comes a pink leather jacket next, slipped on as she sees Cole heading back behind his section from the corner of her eye. A quick smile can't be hidden as she snuggles quickly into the pink leather, shrugging it on around her shoulders happy to have its weight on again.

Bending down, she straps on a pair of matching pink boots about the time the man calls over to her. Grabbing her black helmet from the locker and slamming it shut, the blonde responds.

"If I had a dime for every time I heard that one."

The last word is said as she rounds the corner of the arbitrary male/female partition, bag slung over one shoulder with her helmet on her hip.

Not having a spare bag on hand, Cole simply stuffed his gym clothes into the bottom of is locker. They could stand to sit there for a night along with his basketball. A scoff leaves his lips at her retort. Not many people around here could match his wit verbally as well as she had tonight. More often the response was "fuck you" followed by a less than successful attempt at violence. Had he actually found, god forbid, a professional? Rising to his feet he was greeted by a sight full of leather, pink leather. Oddly fitting considering the brief glimpse he'd had into her personality thus far. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he nodded at the door. "I don't have a car on base and it's a hassle to get one of the humvees. You're driving."

You're driving.

Well this was going to get interesting fast. Striding past him, she exits the locker area and doesn't look back, assuming that if he wanted food, he would follow.

------->Parking lot

===> Exit following Eleanor

Enter from the halls
-------------------
Light footsteps tapped along the mats in the process of crossing them to examine everything in here. It seemed rather dull but it was better than his cell, it only took him a few moments to walk over to a kickboxing bag and to lay down a small tap on it to start, definitely better than his cell. The next kick made it swing on its chain. The added weight on his injured foot was uncomfortable but it didn't shoot a metal rod of pain up his leg as it previously did. Well now, these braces really weren't just for show, they didn't stuff around. He stretched out his leg and arm muscles somewhat before looking around.

Senka stepped back some three steps and breathed evenly, not caring who was watching, he had to stretch it out or it would end up injured and unusable for the next few days or weeks. His form suddenly crouched low as he jumped closer with his figure slowly rotating. His injured foot tapped down for a few seconds before he sprang back up going closer and finished the turn with his left foot swinging wide and colliding with the bag a quarter of the way down, with a simple release of air from his lungs. It felt good to know he wouldn't be entirely useless the next time he was called upon.

He sighed as he retreated a few more steps and repeated the process with different stances including elbows, knees and shoulders. A couple of hours past with just this and Senka was left panting and sweating, water no where to be found, he'd probably have to go looking for some soon.

He had only disappeared for a few short moments but had found himself a water source, and in the process had been amused at the facial expressions that he had been given when he asked some of the guards to spar with him. Outright declining, they had probably seen what he could do, no matter, it would just have to be the bags and the gym equipment to sate this level of efficiency. Besides, it was probably only the supernatural that could sate his need for a challenge. Perhaps Ladd, but he'd heard that he was going to Japan, bloody place would tear him apart if he wasn't ready for it.

Then there were his other fellow prisoners in here, he wouldn't know where to start looking of course. So it was that he strode back into the room with a few spare bottles, keep hydration up at the least. He dropped them a little bit away from the bag and resumed his rhythmic beating of the bag. A few spin kicks and few high elbows, but alas it wasn't fun when it couldn't fight back and didn't require attention.

He went off into the back room and came out dragging a wooden dummy behind him, he set it up next to one of the pieces of equipment in the gym, and tapped it once with a little bit of force. It rocked around a bit but didn't topple, a good thing at least. Senka weaved his arms around the protruding wooden poles once, slowly so as to get the rhythm. A moment later and he went back into weaving his arms in and out, allowing the back side of his hand slap against the base near the top and his the crook of his elbows to hit the top two wooden poles.

It continued on for a few more seconds before he started to hear the cracking of wood, knowing his strength, and controlling it were sadly, two different things. He'd been careless, there was no excuse for that. However, he didn't slow down and neither did the cracking become any less. Even the smallest of hits Senka produced worsened the insides of the poles. A few seconds later and both of the top poles snapped clean off at once, Senka shot both hands out to catch the pieces as the flipped over in the air.
The backroom was still rather dark when he went back in, the two pieces in hand were discarded next to the pile of new ones. He came back out and slotted them back in place and continued on.

A few minutes later and the fracturing within the wood became audible to the point that Senka knew it would break soon enough, another set wrecked. He removed the poles and sighed, he needed a sparring partner, there was that thought again...he'd probably have to talk to Steeler about that. Senka's body suddenly jerked and both poles in his hand came down on the remaining bottom piece of wood. All three broke in unison and splinters were sent flying, he watched each of them within his field of vision tap a few times on the floor before finally resting. He went and discarded the poles where he had with the others and dragged the piece of equipment back to where he found it.

Disteere went about picking up all the tiny little fragments, where sometimes he might be arrogant and in this case slightly justified, he wasn't feral and knew how to pick up after himself. Again, he discarded the now useless pieces and went to go get the bottle of water, taking a few mouthfuls and standing utterly still. If he waited and listened, he could hear the footsteps passing outside in the corridor and the occasional discussion. It was rather boring here when everyone was out on missions...

For once, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, his foot still bothered him but not as much as what it used to. He would still have to take it easy on it, while on one hand he wanted to stay and train, he had grown bored of it already. With no one to spar with, there would be no point, things would just keep breaking. Then some part of him wanted to speak with Steeler again, he didn't like the guy and wouldn't want to seek him out of his own accord. So that option was dropped, in the end he just decided to go back to his cell until he found out what it was that he wanted to do or until he was next called on.
-------------
Exit to Senka's cell