Karl Whedon (showandtell) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-05-18 16:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | industrial warfare, war |
Who: War and Industrial Warfare
What: What War deities do when bored: beat the crap out of each other.
When: Tuesday, afternoon
Where: Gold's Gym in Brooklyn
Warnings: Violence, possibly language
Being someone who liked to be busy, be it physically or mentally active, Karl wasn't taking the slump in activity in the Middle East pretty well. It made the Warfare god feel sluggish, not to mention his usual not-girlfriend-work-related-like-always partner wasn't around to give him more work to do. Usually this was something that higher ups were supposed to do, but recently since acquiring a new partner, Karl was more than happy to let his partner boss him about, if only because her temper reminded him of Hitler's when pushed to the limits. However, it still wasn't the same as having the high of dealing with total war, pushing both his mind and body towards limits that even he was never aware of. There was that one time in World War II with the atomic bomb, but with the technology now, Karl just never had a chance to test it once more.
But although bored and fed up with paperwork having to deal with supply lists, Karl was still the practical man and only thought of nuking North Korea followed by a full on invasion via South Korea and Japan for a full five seconds before he filed it away in his mind under "maybe's". War, had thankfully been reliable in accepting a sparring session with the New God, which would stop Karl from dreaming up of any more scenarios for the time being.
Checking his watch, it was exactly 1:00PM sharp when Karl finally arrived to the mentioned gym and had changed into his sweats with black tanks. After taping up his knuckles, he had sat in the men's locker room for a full five minutes before realizing that War was a she now and might not possibly be showing up in the same locker room, where Karl was initially waiting for her.
Coming out of the locker room, Karl made his way to the boxing ring, eyes looking out for anyone that looked like War--or at least felt like him.
Er, her.