Who: Joyce and Zane When: Day 8, just after 9am Where: The fitness center
He couldn't believe it had been over a week since he'd worked out. Running from monsters didn't really count, regardless of how much cardiovascular activity he got doing so. He also almost always got a jolt of adrenalin and a near death experience to go with it. Now he sat in the gym, eying a punching bag in one corner, Paige's mp3 player in his hand. It would feel good to work a bag again, like he had so many mornings before even going to class.
He pulled his shirt off, folded it and placed it on the floor off to the side. Then he got out some tape and began wrapping his hands around the knuckles and his left palm. He didn't want to split anymore and he didn't want to tear the stitches in his left hand. Paige was right, he needed to take care of his hands or he wouldn't be able to help anyone else. It was a strange feeling to think his own well being could so directly impact the well being of those around him. It was a lot of responsibility to bear.
Zane popped the headphones in his ears, starting up a song, and then made his way over to the bag. Today's gym experience was about more than a workout. He also wanted to play with his powers so more, and to test the theory that physical activity helped to calm the jittery, overcharged feeling he got after absorbing light, like a battery with too much juice. He started out with a warm-up, just some solid right and left jabs and hooks to the center of the bag.
Joyce had scrounged for coffee and a bagel with cheese, and though the coffee part hadn't been the most satisfactory experience - must get that sorted out fast - and the meal had lacked more protein that she preferred in the morning - sources of protein are just... not what I want to think about right now - she decided that she'd visit the fitness center today and do her Tai Chi there and maybe be more motivated to do some of her exercise routine, something she used to manage with no difficulty before everything went to hell.
It turned out she wasn't the only one who was thinking about fitness in the morning. A man was there - Zane, I think - making tentative inroads on a punching bag. Joyce hadn't really pursued that particular piece of equipment. She was more the treadmill and weights and ball person. With the power gone, the treadmill was out, but really, doing all these stairs on a daily basis at the hotel was more than sufficient cardio.
And, Joyce being Joyce, she noted the headphones and wanted to make sure he knew she was there, so he wasn't startled later. She stepped into his peripheral vision and gave a small wave.
"Good morning," she said with a smile.
Zane raised his brow as he noticed a woman enter the gym. He pulled a headphone out of his ear, the rock music spilling out, muffled, into the room. "Good morning," he returned, lacking the smile she had offered him. He stared at her a long moment, waiting for her name to come to him. He'd heard it at the meeting and he'd been paying close attention so he could store away everyone's names and the powers that seemed more useful.
"Joyce." He said the name out loud as it came to him. "Our second in command." Good. He wanted to get to know this woman, to understand why she had been voted into leadership. Although he wondered if leading this particular hotel full of miscreants might be like trying to keep a commune of prisoners in line. Zane wasn't one to follow what he was told, himself, if he disagreed with the logic. "How are you finding your new position thus far?"
"Yes," she said, confirming her name. "And... yes, I suppose so." At being asked about her position, she managed not to sigh. So, was that how it was going to be? "Zane, right? The doctor and..." She gestured with one hand at the dislodged headphone. "And... a fan of rock 'n' roll. Absorbs light and can see in the dark. That's... very handy." She's made notes, after all. No smile from him, though, which was a shame. She suspected he had a nice one, when he used it. "As for my position?" She smirked a little and went with humor. "I'm fond of vertical. I like it so far, though the day is young. How are you this morning?"
"Yes, the doctor," he confirmed, though there was a weary quality to his voice. That he simply let himself be considered the doctor was far less confusing than explaining to every person he encountered that he wasn't really a doctor, even if there could be an official M.D. behind his surname. "You have a good memory. The seeing in the dark has come in very handy." The loss of power had been the first time he'd really considered the ability a gift instead of an annoyance.
The vertical comment earned her a rise on one corner of his mouth. He wasn't quite sure if she meant that as a comment to still being alive or something more in the gutter. Having spent a portion of the middle of the night with Penny, he tended toward the latter. "My morning is going well," he told her. "But, as you say, it's young." He appraised her a moment, taking out the other headphone and turning off the mp3 player. He was only supposed to use a certain amount of the battery before returning it and he didn't want to waste any music. Not having it close at hand made it suddenly precious. "You're the one who raised kids, right?" He thought he remembered her mentioning something about that--the fact had stood out being not too many of the survivors had mentioned having children.
She shrugged. If she'd been asked and had thought about it, she probably meant both options with the vertical comment, really. "Thank you. I try to remember the important things. And yeah, no power. Wish I could see in the dark." She rolled her eyes a little. "I just know I'm going to slam my shin into a coffee table or something. It's predestined." Joyce turned her head at the mention of children. Had she said anything about them at the meeting? Still, she wasn't hiding the fact. "Yep. Two of them. Good kids." She approached the punching bag and placed a tentative hand on it, focused there rather than on Zane. "One is out in California. The other is in New York." She spoke of them as if they were still alive, because the alternative was something she didn't have time to consider. But he didn't want to hear about them, she as sure. "Why do people pummel these things? Is it therapeutic?"
Curious how she talked about her children like they could come strolling through the door or call her on the phone at any moment. For some people denial was just easier, he supposed. Even he was in a certain amount of denial despite saying aloud he thought his sister was dead. Killing off the faint hope she wasn't would have been like trying to separate from his shadow.
He watched her touch the punching bag like it could zap her at any moment. "Some do it simply because it's a good workout: it burns calories, sculpts muscles, and heightens reflexes. It can also be very therapeutic on a bad day. I do it for all those reasons." He looked between her and the bag. "Do you know how to throw a punch?" He gestured toward the bag. "Try it."
He gave his reasons and she nodded. One look at his physique had told her that he was used to working out. No extra calories on this man. And as for sculpting? Well...
"Therapy. That's why I took up Tai Chi." Joyce sighed and tapped the bag. "I'm better at soccer or throwing a baseball," she said honestly. "But I was a sporty kid. If I punched this?" She slid him a small smile. "I'd probably break my hand. If you wouldn't mind... showing me, maybe?"
"Of course." He stepped up next to her, but let her stand directly in front of the bag. "Feet shoulder width apart," he instructed. "You want to hold your fist like this." He brought his left up, his dominant hand, paying no mind to the extra tape and bandage on it. He clenched it into a fist. "Make certain your thumb is on the outside so you don't break it. Then you just step into the punch with your dominant side." He stepped forward on his left foot and his left hand went out directly in front of him slowly, tapping the bag. "The jab is the most effective punch so I was taught to perfect that one first before the others. Go slow and give it a try." He went around behind the bag to hold it in place for her. "And then you can tell me how Tai Chi is therapeutic."
Zane was a little shorter than Joyce, by a few inches. She didn't know about weight, though in bulk, he appeared to have more mass. Joyce adjusted her stance as directed and looked at his hand, as it was demonstrating something. She noted the bandaging, but made no comment. "Dominant side," she repeated, and lifted her right arm to mirror his left. Her fist in the proper arrangement, she nodded as he went around the bag. "Okay," she said and made a jab at the bag, shifting forward on her right foot when she did so. "And Tai Chi is meditative, controlled, precise, fluid." Joyce raised one eyebrow and made another jab at the bag. "If it's done correctly, you feel... whole." It was the shortest answer she could give. If he wanted a longer one, she had that, too.
He kept an eye on her jab and more specifically the form she was using. Not bad at all for a first time. "Whole?" He looked to Joyce instead of the bag, the word catching his attention. "How does it make you feel whole?" Boxing certainly didn't do that for him. It allowed him to blow off steam, to regain control, but it never added anything to his being. Not that he thought something like a physical activity could but he was still interested in hearing the explanation.
There was a spark of genuine interest . He didn't comment on her jab, so she tried again, a little harder this time. "Tai Chi chun, or Tai Chi, is a martial art, if you're properly trained to continue after the initial steps. Most people I know don't go that far. They practice, you know... The people in the park before dawn, doing all those slow motions as a group?"
Joyce jabbed again "But it's also practiced for health reasons. It relieves stress on the mind and body. By focusing on the movements, you can achieve a level of relaxation, of mental calm, clarity, where you can actually focus. You're more... aware of your thoughts, your body and how it moves. It's self-defense, but also good physical fitness and very spiritual. Mediatative. Whole." She smiled. "And if I sound like a convert, I am. Been doing it for six years now. I teach it at the local gym. Well, taught it..."
She hit the bag harder the next time.
He nodded as Joyce explained about Tai Chi. He'd seen the people in the parks in the early morning and, frankly, had always thought them odd. As she continued he watched her hit the bag, feeling the movement of it against him as it rebutted from her force. "It's interesting in theory. I'm skeptical about anything spiritual and meditative, however." He preferred the actual and the physical. Anything spiritual was too abstract and difficult to pin down.
"Nice jabs," he commented, stepping back and letting go of the bag. "You could add in an upper cut or use your non-dominant hand." He demonstrated the upper cut. "Boxing is about keeping control and your opponent guessing." He smirked lightly. "You could tape your knuckles and really pound the bag, as well. I'm sure it's just as therapeutic as slow movements in the park at dawn."
"Maybe I can convince you otherwise," she said, concentrating on her actions. "You're showing me how to punch the crap out of a bag." She smiled. "And thanks. Maybe I can show you the benefits of moving slowly at dawn? Or any time, really. Not like we have to punch the clock anymore." Setting their own schedules was another layer of complexity, though. "Should I... tape my knuckles now?" Joyce wasn't sure how much time he wanted to spend with her on this. He hadn't come to the fitness center to teach her how to not break her hand, after all. She was interrupting him.
"I'd be willing to give it a try." He wasn't convinced anything out there aside from a bottle of whiskey could help him relax but it was worth a try. The mental calm and focus were intriguing elements too. "I think I miss punching a clock," he told Joyce as he moved to gather his tape where he left it near his shirt. He'd never held a normal 9-5 job but he'd always had a schedule and an idea of what to expect any given day. Now everything was spontaneity and reaction and gut instinct. He handed her the tape, the end already pulled up. "Just wrap it around your knuckles enough to cover them. It doesn't need to be fancy." His own wrap job was only meticulous looking because of years of doing it, and practice wrapping tape in medical school, and because he was a meticulous person. He stood behind the bag again and held it in place, wondering if he was really going to see her let loose on it. He thought they all had some anxiety and tension to work off.
Joyce looked at his hands again, for reference, and taped her own in a similar way. "Being willing to give it a try is half the battle," she said, sighing a little when the tape stuck to itself at one point. She used her teeth to assist her and got it sorted, though. Tearing it off, she tossed the roll onto the mat, away from the area they were working in, and considered the bag again.
"I miss the clock, too," she said, and threw a punch that had a bit more force behind it. "It gave my day a framework. I guess I need a new frame..."
"We all need a new frame," he confirmed. "Everything is reaction. And as much as I hate going back to my medical roll, I'm almost thankful for it as well. It gives me some sort of purpose, even if I am always on-call." He'd thought about that a few days into it--what he would be doing with himself if he had no medical knowledge. Sitting in his room all day or hiding away food? Nothing that seemed helpful or maybe him useful in any way. He wasn't one to just sit around besides.
He furrowed his brows as Joyce punched the bag again. At least this time he'd had to brace himself a little against that one. "Just open up on it," he told her. "Or does all that Tai Chi control prevent that sort of thing?"
She smiled. "Having focus helps, yes. I guess I have my focus now." She hadn't expected to be voted into a leadership position, but she was certainly willing to give it a go. It made her more involved with their fate and gave her something to do that was constructive. She'd wanted to help, but other than being supportive and talking to people, she wasn't sure what she could do. She still wasn't certain how it would all pan out, but she was hopeful. "And Tai Chi doesn't prevent that sort of thing, Zane. That would be me." Joyce paused, let out a breath and did her best to open up on the punching bag. She thought she might even be making some progress.
"And how are you feeling about that new focus?" There was difference between running for a position of leadership and being more or less pushed into it. Terry had been taking charge since the very beginning so his being voted in was hardly a surprise. Joyce, Zane didn't know but there had to be some reason a majority of people felt comfortable with her.
He looked pleased as she began to actually lay into the bag. That was the point, at least to him, to let everything out with each swing, to regain his own control and focus. He doubted he was the only one who needed to keep all his personal stuff tightly contained. "Much better. We might have you knocking people out yet."
She paused in her efforts to really punch that... punching bag and gave Zane a lazy smile. "Thanks. I hope it never comes to that, but it's a good idea to be prepared." Joyce chuckled. "Now I sound like I'm with my Guide troop again. That sends me back." She hit the bag again - one-two-three - and sighed a little. "Well, I was sort of helping people out in an unofficial way, just... me, you know? I wasn't expecting it, but the votes are in, so... I'll give it my best shot. I feel... good about it." She pictured Richard's face and punched the bag again, hard, for good measure. "I can see why this is therapeutic..."
He had no idea what a Guide troop was but didn't bother to ask at the moment, instead just bracing the bag and listening to her talk about her new leadership position. He felt some comfort that she was willing to take it but time would tell whether the citizens of the hotel had made wise decisions all around. His brow raised as she landed a particularly sharp punch. "It is that. Today I came down to try to work out my powers some with it." He eyed Joyce a moment, appraising the woman who was likely fairly close to his mother's age. "Anything in particular you were thinking about with that last one?"
Joyce raised one eyebrow. "Yes, I was. Very astute. My ex-husband, in fact. It was... messy and he was a jerk." She grinned. "I just punched him. Well, in my mind. I've done it in person, of course, but that was years ago and things being what they are..." She shrugged. "If he made it through all this, I'm still not likely to see him again and have another chance at clocking him. So. Powers. Have you had a chance to practice them yet?" She didn't mind the topic of her ex-husband, so much as she thought it would just bore Zane.
"Another marriage ended in bliss," Zane dead-panned. "I could launch into my opinion on marriage but even I'm getting tired of hearing it." And his tone had probably said it all. "I noticed the stronger punch because my own land better when I'm picturing certain people." Therein lay the therapeutic properties. "What did he do? Cheat on you?" It seemed to come down to that a vast majority of the time. It seemed people simply couldn't remain loyal to one another. "My powers are coming along. Though they continue to go off on their own. I just wanted to see if boxing was a good way to work off the energy I absorb. And your own?"
"Bliss," she repeated. "A state few achieve, I think, though I wouldn't change a thing because of my kids. And that's a good tip, then. Picturing someone you'd really like to flatten." Joyce grinned. "Repeatedly. And yes. He did. Cheat, that is. Repeatedly. Took me a while to find out." Joyce punched the bag again. "So, is boxing helping? I don't think I've seen your power in action..." She sighed. "'My own' what? I don't have any powers, Zane." Small smile. "No invisible jet for me. I just... am."
Zane only nodded as Joyce explained the end to her marriage. It seemed no one on earth was capable of loyalty, at the least not that he had ever observed. Hearing stories like her's only solidified his view on relationships, which on the one hand bolstered his confidence in them and on the other gave him a sense of despair. "I hope you broke his nose," he commented turning his focus back on the bag. "I'm not sure if the boxing is helping yet. I've not tried it." He looked at the woman a long moment and then the light in the room faded, as though someone was turning a dimmer switch, until everything was pitch black. The blackness held a moment before springing back to full force. Zane took a deep breath, having held it to concentrate. "There's my magic trick." He smirked lightly, remembering how Penny had told him it would have made him rich in Vegas. "You must have some sort of power, Wonder Woman. Everyone else seems to."
"I broke his nose, yeah. It was very satisfying..." Then the light went away, as if she was tunneling out and losing consciousness. Next thing, it was back again. "Well... That's impressive, if a little... disorienting..." Joyce sighed. "I don't seem to have a power. Maybe my power is 'no-power'? Or maybe I... I don't know. Can change the color of flowers or something. Something innocuous. I'll have to find a plant and give that a try. I'm not really worried about it. At least I'm still me..."
"You'll find it." Everyone's power seemed to be useful in a survival sense. "Perhaps, in the meantime, you should verify you can't somehow saved spoiled foods." That would be handy. Already he was missing fresh fruits and vegetables, having relegated himself to more crackers and canned foods. "And when you say you're still you, are you referring to the fact you've not sprouted wings or extra appendages or extra hair?" He was rather glad for the same.
Joyce shrugged. "Que serra, serra. And... yes. Food. I'll see what happens. That would certain be handy, if I could preserve foods better than Campbell's..." She stretched one arm across her body and over her opposite shoulder, then did the same with the other arm as she said, "Something like that. If I have to survive an Apocalypse, at least it wasn't to become like those... creatures..."
"Very true." That was something to think about--that any of them could be mindless, flesh consuming monsters hunting down those they once called brothers and sisters, friends and lovers. They had survived and not in the worst possible state. "I'll let you get back to your Tai Chi," he told Joyce as he stepped back around to the front of the punching bag. "Keep working on your jab and I think you could be quite good. It might become useful." Especially if she never found a power of some kind. "Good luck with your leadership position." He, at least, felt more at ease with Joyce being voted in. He adjusted a piece of tape coming loose on his knuckle and then began working the bag again, the small vibrating feeling from his earlier demonstration fading away.