Who: Buffy Summers & Open! or complete as narrative What: After her conversation with Angel, Buffy feels the need to hit things When: Night, after their conversation Where: Training room, AI Rating: TBD Status: Complete unless someone joins
It had been an issue she she had got here, and now she realized she wasn't the only one going through it. It was both Angel and herself. They'd been replaced. They'd started it, and now they no longer had it. Angel didn't have AI, and Buffy didn't have her Slayers. She was nothing. In her opinion, she was forced into retirement. Once upon a time she would have been okay with that. But now, so 'late' in her life, with her powers still with her and a threat still coming, she wasn't okay with that.
Everything was taken from her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not without looking like the bad guy.
It made her feel cranky, feel hurt, feel useless. Before she knew it she was in the training room of AI, and she was facing a punching bag. She started moving, her hands pounding against the Everlast bag, trying to vent her every frustration out on the training tool hanging from a chain.
It wasn't anyone's fault she was in this position. No ones fault save the Powers. She didn't know who she was anymore. She didn't have anything. Everything she'd worked toward was gone, and most people here didn't realize that. They probably didn't really give a damn either.
Her punches became harder, faster, as her eyes narrowed in anger, taking it all out on the bag. Trying to picture the person she should be mad at, and yet she had no face for them. The world around her evaporated and she lost herself in her thoughts, probably not the best place for her to be at the moment.
She didn't stop, for every reason she had to be mad, she beat the crap out of the bag like it was a vampire. Like it was the Mayor. Like it was the Master, or Glory, Harmony. Like any of the people who had hurt her and the ones she loved in the past.
Like Twilight. His face, or the masked face he hid flashed across her mind. With one swift movement she turned on the spot, and brought her leg up, slamming it into the punching bag. Landing a kick right on Twilight's face.
The chain snapped, and the bag fell to the floor with a dull thud. Buffy drew still, just staring down at the bag, taking in deep breaths. After all that, she still didn't feel better. Was there another bag?