zen_archer (zen_archer) wrote in newalliance, @ 2014-07-22 22:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | green arrow ii, maria hill |
Who: Connor, Director Hill
Where: New York City
When: July 22, 2014
What: Connor comes across another member of the Monkey Fist Cult, ends up a little broken.
Rating: PG-13
The knuckles felt like a stone hammer popping against his sternum. Connor bent his spine back, but that was the only small motion he had time for to accept the blow, his own hand swinging out and forcing the grotesquely grinning monkey mask to yank back to avoid the strike. A quick repositioning of his feet and Connor was blocking the kick that came in, then stepping back, palms circling strikes away from his torso.
This developed quickly.
One moment he was leaving the house to report in to SHIELD. The next he felt like he was being followed, so had walked away from the train station with his pedal bike to where there were fewer people. Instinct pinged correctly. He had grabbed three small throwing knives from the air with a sweep of his hand and then been fully engaged in this fight.
With no way to get to his bow and arrows, or his com or phone.
The martial artist came in with both hands swiftly toward his ears, and Connor lift his to block. The foot nailed him in the chest, and he rolled with it, shoving his palms down as he was tumbling onto the back of his shoulders so he handsprang back to his feet. He forced breaths past the chest pain.
“Is this truly all you have?” the monkey fist cult member mocked.
Master Jansen’s voice crossed his thoughts. Be calm. Be respectful. “No. Sorry, I was busy thinking earlier.” Connor narrowed his eyes, breathing now fully steady. “For that, I apologize.”
“You will be sorry, for not fighting me with everything you have.” The monkey squeezed something in his gauntlets, and three short iron spikes sprang out the back of the knuckles. “I will prove my rank by defeating you.”
Center. Pacify your emotions. Connor didn’t think about how much the spikes would hurt if they landed. Indeed, he stopped thinking about anything. The motions came, and the monkey learned swiftly being in close quarters with him was more than risky. There was a swift slap to the forearm and a step into the side of monkey’s feet and suddenly he was on the ground. The challenger kicked aggressively to keep Connor away, then rolled up to his feet and remained in a deep, defensive crouch.
“I’m not a fan of pointless fights,” Connor stated, frowning. “And this is hardly the setting.”
“This is not pointless!” The masked man rushed in again, his strikes much more swift and aggressive now. Connor’s hands moved swiftly back and forth, stepping back. His opponent was good--really good, and probably did deserve a higher rank, but Connor was keeping up. Then the monkey spun to his side. Connor countered, elbow coming about the others’ head, then was swiftly having his counter countered and forced down to his hip.
“You like to shoot bows, right?” the fighter said, while Connor fought a heel up to his chest to get out of the hold. “Let’s see how well you do with this.” The clan member flipped over his foot, and landed on top of his stabilizing hand with the dull spikes on the toes of his sandals.
Connor cried out sharply as the clan member twisted on his toe and jumped off his fingers. Peace… stay at peace… Suddenly a voice much more like his father’s cut across Master Jansen’s. Oh, he did not just break the fingers! Oh, he did. Son of a...
The man in the monkey mask was laughing at him now as he snapped a glare his direction. “That’s a better look! Now… Let us be more serious, yes.”
Connor got to his feet, breathing a hot breath out of his nose. His fingers were nothing but a hot throb that made them feel ten times their size, though they were only now starting to discolor around where the skin had been scraped off. His green eyes didn’t leave the clan member as he grit his teeth and straightened them a little, feeling the damage. One break, one at least badly sprained. Then he flicked his fingertips out on both hands, standing flat footed with relaxed knees and arms, palms down.
“Tch! Still the passive stance? Very well.”
Each beat of his pulse sent a painful spike down his two fingers. He tried to tell himself to be calm like water, control his breathing. The mocking grin of the mask taunt at him as it charged in.
Thought left again. His hands moved swift and sharp, using the wrist of his injured one to stabilize and the heel of his other to break. He didn’t stop, knee pushing the other’s to the side as he went down. With the same motion, his forearm swept up behind the thigh. Connor continued the circling motion, coming up again to face the back of the falling monkey, and helped him meet the ground with a fierce chop to his face.
The back of the monkey’s head landed on the top of Connor’s foot rather than snapping on the pavement, but it was still jarring. Connor picked his toe up slowly. “I said I don’t like pointless fighting.” Then he closed his hand into a fist and sent it down.
He left the monkey leaning against a wall, dialing on his phone. “Hi. I’m going to be a little late. Um… SHIELD provides emergency medical for employees still, right? And bad guy pick up? … Yeah, that’d be nice."