So, I Was Minding My Own Business.... (Langley)

[Vincent Meian]

OOC: If anyone wants to observe or comment on this fight in-thread, I have no objection. Seeing two teachers duke it out on-campus has got to be one of the most unusual and entertaining things to happen at Hammel in a while (though, granted, most staff won't see it that way). In any case, so long as no one interrupts the fight by breaking it up, you are welcome to watch, cheer, or taunt as much as possible.

Have fun, Hammelites! I know I will!


IC:


Light snow had mixed with rain much of the day, leaving the town of Pilot Ridge very cold and more than a little wet. Going anywhere was a hazard with so much ice and slush on the ground, but unsurprisingly the school had not been closed - it had seen far worse winters and remained open, and it was sure to stay that way all winter.


Despite the early dark of the day and the sharp temperature drop following shortly after, Vincent felt very little need to go home right away. Appoline was home taking care of Cassi (who had caught a bad cold a few days ago), and Nik needed to stay late to finish her reports for the (which, incidentally, included the documentation of all the children who had the same colds as their daughter). He would walk her home when she finished, but until then he had time.


So, he trained.


It was a bad idea to let one's physical state grow idle or lessen in any way. Since he very well could not rely on his powers much of the time, his body was all that he had between any threat and the well-being of those he cared for. Thus, it was maintained rigorously and daily - even when his students left him winded and aching, he still trained. He shadow-boxed, practiced stances and forms with patience and grace, and even did the simplest of muscle-toning work.

By the time six pm rolled around and the last of the clubs had ended (aside from the astronomy club, which had only just started), the rather spacious training room was much warmer than it had been earlier, though the thermostat had remained in the same position for nearly three hours. The extremely tall teacher currently stood on his hands just forwards of the center of the room, long legs bent back over his spine as he watched the form carefully in the mirror. He moved slowly, inch by inch with every breath as sweat dripped from his face to a towel on the floor and his feet moved ever closer to the top of his head. His muscles trembled as they held in nigh perfect balance, his hands shifting imperceptibly with the slow movements above him. He was tightly wound, strained to the edge of his flexibility, and his scars ached.


Yoga tended to do that to him a lot.


Releasing another breath slowly, he raised his legs up in unison, the slow motion and effort causing his left leg to twitch with a stab of pain; one more old wound complaining, though not loudly. He continued with the motion until his legs pointed straight up, then lowered his chest to the ground slowly. Bare skin and scar tissue touched the mat and towel before his hips and legs followed. Once his toes completed the downward motion, he pulled back over them, kneeling and stretching over his legs into a relaxed and inert pose. Sweat still dripped down his bare arms, back, chest and face, but he resisted the urge to brush the beads of salt water away for the moment. He was far too warm at the moment to do anything else but rest.


The gi he'd worn had not helped particularly with the overheating, so its top lay folded at the side of the room along with his outside clothes and shoes. So, he sat wearing only the old white pants, their starched legs reaching well above his ankles even when he stood normally. His long hair rested in a braid down his back, though as per usual his bangs had escaped the confines of the tie and stuck uncomfortably to his face. Once his breathing and heart-rate became subdued again, Vincent pushed himself to his feet and stretched.

Even in a room made for superhumans, his fingers almost brushed the ceiling, such was his height. His lean, tan form was tightly muscled and thoroughly scarred - especially his back, which was to the slightly open door. As he flexed his fingers to loosen them up, black ink shifted over his right hand and arm, making a serpentine flame dance over the tendons and muscle. Knuckles cracked loudly as he did so as well, and he frowned at the sound ever so slightly before pushing the sweat-slicked hair back over his head.


"Kore ijō no nokori," he murmured softly, stepping back into a fighter's crouch. He needed to practice more combat - his reflexes were slowing. Watching the reflection in the mirror before him, Vincent began to kick-box, mostly just to get his heart-rate up again and partially to work back into moving faster after his yoga forms.


Hey, people don't give it enough credit. Yoga is a tough art form.

[Langley Vandeveer]

Langley pattered about the hallway, searching up and down the rooms and staring in through the windows to the side of the doors, sort of like how an indoor racquetball court is built. He observed a few of his own students doing a few training moves before he became bored with their atypical progress rates and decided to go on looking for something more entertaining. It'd been a fairly boring day to begin with, so Langley was just itching at the collar of his shirt to get into some kind of mischief. Oh wait, he means fun. Harmlessly destructive fun. Though, he was more than willing to change his agenda around to fit in some constructive demolition to certain cocky ass students, or teachers. Or people. Hell, it was whoever pissed Langley off first right now.

Why was he so pissed? Admittedly, this is a bit more off than Langley usually is, and it's all the result of his overbearing miracle that fate bestowed upon this abysmal thing called his life. he had been inadvertently absorbing unneeded energy once again, mostly from small things such as bumping into others, their kinetic energy slamming into his body, just like Newton said it would. In fact, if he could and had the knowledge of how to, Langley would go back in time to sock Newton in the face if possible. Just for having to make up the laws of physics and giving his life just that much more hell. Of course, Lanny knows that it's not Newton's fault, not completely. He just happened to be the poor sap to take the time to give the reaction a name.

Continuing on down the hall, Lan searched almost frantically for a room now, because the thought of releasing all this energy was about to drive his epidermis up the wall while imploding his organs at the same time. Just as Langley was about to have some sort of serious physical or mental breakdown when some haphazard 'children' bumped into him as they sped down the corridor, he spied a strangely contorted figure out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw an asian male with his toes hanging in front of his nose.

"What...the..." Langley gawked as he stepped forward slowly to stare through the window at the man. It wasn't until he undid his lower extremities from his face that the messy headed man could see exactly who it was. Vincent Meian, his favorite case on the power training staff. The man was a conundrum just waiting to be solved, that is, in Langley's mind. His powers were something to be wary of, but the man rarely ever used them due to the destructive ends of such great capabilities. A smirk began to spread slowly across Lanny's creased face, his brows furrowing further down to give his eyes that devilish look people had become so accustomed to seeing him wear. Mostly because he'd been finding himself going a little more haywire lately than normal. Something's just been off with Langley for a while now. Most people would say it's been since the day his was born.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite atypical, ethnically Asian based, power trainer. I would say colleague, but I don't get the feeling that either of us really wishes to be associated together in such a 'familiar' sense as such." Lanny quickly said as he opened the door and shut behind him as he stepped into the room. Vincent had just begun a short series of kickboxing moves when Mr. Vandeveer stepped in, and from the looks of it. He could tell that he'd either leave this place bruised and another tooth short, or possibly folded over in the same position that he had just witness Vincent prostrating himself in earlier. Either way, he was gonna get this energy out of him. And in this man's one track mind, that's all that really mattered right now. "So, I take it your still training that human body of yours. Still unwilling to use that power of yours? I didn't exactly predict you as being the type to abandon such a component of yourself that has so much potential."

Stepping forward, Langley took off a fleece jacket he'd thrown on over an old t-shirt and comfortable pants, not in his typical gothic business attire, but he still almost seemed too dressy compared to mister Kung Fu standing in front of him. Rolling his shoulders back and moving about his neck, he concentrated on the few boxing moves he'd acquired in his years of strength training to learn to control his powers. Also, he focused in on the ball of energy circling about his guy, attempting to stream it off into his body's circulation of natural energy as to give him that extra boost of power to whatever he chooses to do with his body now. Smirk spreading wide on his lips, he continued to speak, "Though, I suppose we aren't all apt to controlling our powers as well as others, hm? Of course, I would understand considering your powers circumstances. Tell me, where do you go when you disappear in your after effects? How does it feel to disappear?" Lanny's voice was cool and harmless, but stood in contrast against the mischief dancing in his emerald green eyes. He knew he really shouldn't be pushing this poor man's buttons as much as he was. But he was curious about his powers!

That and he just needed a good out let right now.

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[Vincent Meian]

Vincent had been so focused on his training regimen that he hadn't noticed the other instructor until he'd spoken. Startled, he'd turned to face the other man abruptly, straightening from his fighting stance as he did so. The other man was as loud and direct as usual, something that the taller man didn't really mind so much usually; he liked when people got to the point and spoke their minds. Something, however, seemed strange about him (if that was at all possible). "Vandaveer-sensei," he greeted, his breathing still deep from the level of exercise he'd been getting in the last few hours. "Is there something I can do for you?"


The reference of training his "human" body made him wary, however; the eccentric trainer before him was accustomed to philosophy that one's powers should be used regularly and trained ferociously. Which, while a good idea for most students, could be hazardous for others whose powers were not so simply mastered. For people like Vincent (or his most recent student, Lei), such practices could prove lethal. Langley's next words gave credit to his wariness and put the long-haired man on guard again. "My powers are very dangerous to my person and anyone I deem to use them on," he answered slowly, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Using it outside of dire necessity seems irresponsible."


And terrifying, he thought, though he didn't admit it out loud. It wasn't much of a secret that Vincent rarely if ever used his powers, but it was not open for discussion with the trainer on the real reason why that was. There were too many things buried in his past that he felt he shouldn't dredge up by talking about it. He'd been down that road once already; no use in retracing it.


The taller man crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the intruder make himself more comfortable and began practicing his own maneuvers in the art of boxing. The moves were sharp, quick, and clean; good enough to assume that Langley had formal training in the subject. Vincent supposed that he could let the man share the room with him for a while - he wouldn't be here much longer anyway.


However, just as he settled back into a fighting stance, the other trainer spoke again. The words sparked a sharp flare of anger in the Japanese man, and his hands flexed unconsciously at the jab to his pride. While he could control his powers easily by keeping his emotions in check, the side-effects were what caused him problems. No power usage, no side-effects. It was that simple, really. The fact that Langley had a habit of reading other people's files for his "research" on meta-human powers annoyed not a few people to no end. Fortunately for Vincent, he'd stayed out of the questioning circle through no small amount of luck.


Until now, of course.


"I do not know," he answered, his voice sharp and ice cold. "I do not remember once I have returned." He would not discuss how it felt. Even the memory of such things sent shivers down his spine when he gave them too much thought. He could only remember that strange hum; the deep resonance of some impossibly large string from an impossibly large instrument snapping back into place from where he had plucked it forcefully. That, and the infinite darkness.


Taking a deep breath, he began shadow-boxing again, forcing the hot flash of wounded pride into something usable; energy for his training. The vibrant-eyed trainer likely meant well, but his curiosity could be irksome occasionally.

[Langley Vandeveer]

"Oh nothing much." responded Langley to his fellow power trainer's comment and oh so formal greeting. One much more respectful towards him then his was towards the poor man before him, but Lan had the social grace of a brick. Stepping into a nice shoulder width stance and raising his arms overhead, he stretched his muscles to prep for the release of the built up chemical energy and potential retention of new energy. Depending on how this whole meet up goes. "I assumed you wouldn't mind my coming in to use a portion of this training room as well. It seems a lot of my students are currently using the other ones." added the mop haired man as he dropped his arms and started to bounce foot from foot.

Most of the student Lanny received had physical based powers with issues in over control of powers or magnifying them. At Hammel, the students were meant to be taught how to exude extreme control over said powers and be able to hide them from the human populace under any kind of situation. Though, this eccentric teacher tended to add in bits of fighting and sparring training to his daily regiment for his students. Who knows when one day the government will completely turn their backs on the mutants and attack. And he wanted his students to be prepared for that. A strange thing about Mr. Vandeveer is how much he really does care for the well being of his students.

"Hmmm, I see," mused Langley as Mr. Meian explained his predicament with said powers. He was quite aware of the powers Vincent possessed and the potential hidden within them, mostly dangerous potential though. "I can see where your anxiety lays in possibly harming those around you. I only wonder what you could one day do with them with a little proper training." Langley was prodding the poor man. He was being honest, he really did think good things could come from some correct training and molding to the other man's gift. However, he was mostly saying all of this to him knowing it would make him more likely to agree to a bout of sparring.

"Even more interesting." exclaimed the professor as he heard that Vincent doesn't have control nor knowledge of where he goes when using his powers and suddenly disappears into another reality of sorts. Or that was Lanny's hypothesis. If the two were better friends, Langley could probably try and explain to Vin what was happening to him when he suddenly 'poofed'. But Langley could be a jackass, like now, and the topic was still too fresh for Vincent it seemed. Recognizing this, Langley smirked and held his hands above his head in a sign on of peace "But of course, what you choose to want to know and do with your power's is utterly up to you good sir."

Watching as Vincent picked back up where he left off in his shadow boxing, he tried to track his movements. They were crisp and clean, like a true fighter. Maybe it had something to do with being Asian? Langley shook his head and laughed to himself knowing that he had to be absolutely bonkers to want to fight this man right now. However, a little part of him inside though, maybe, just maybe, if they fought then he could catch a glimpse of the man's power if pushed far enough.

"Hey."

Langley turned towards Vincent, dropping his boxer's stance and tatic of beating around the bush type greeting. "I'm just gonna cut to the chase. What do you think about sparring for, oh, say a couple minutes?"

Shrugging he looked the man straight in the eye, hard emerald meeting flaring brown as they stared one another down. "I'm sure even you can tell that I didn't come in here to just hit some rubberized bag of sand or punch air. Besides," stated Langley as he took a step forward, tensing all of his muscles for any kind of impact, and falling back into a fighting type stance once more, "I could use a good release."

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[Vincent Meian]

Vincent shook his head and motioned for the other trainer to use the room as he wished. The training rooms were often large enough to deal with three or five people doing different things at the same time, so it was reasonable that one being used by a single person was big enough to house another for a while.


The jibe of "proper training" grated on him, though he could see where Langley was coming from. Perhaps if there were some other way to harness his powers, he wouldn't be so dangerous. However, even after years of lessons with his own trainer and another year of rehabilitation after an accident, the purpose of the powers didn't change; only the control of when they came to light. For now, he said nothing; he neither agreed nor disagreed with the other man.


"There have been many tests over many years," he answered shortly, giving the tangled professor another glance. "None proved fruitful. There are theories, but it is mere speculation, and I do not devote my time to suspicion."


Vincent wasn't a good fighter just because he was Asian. He'd picked up the fighting skills at Eisai, learning from a mentor who (like Langley) wasn't afraid to knock sense into a hot-headed student. Mostly, he'd done it to get stronger; it was only much later that he realized that the training helped him focus and maintain discipline. The training had been further compounded in the military, and practiced over many years. The trainer had been active in martial arts now for almost thirty years; it would have been surprising if sparring with him didn't make the average person wary.


Apparently, Langley was not the average person.


When the other trainer suggested a sparring match, Vincent slowed his movements, giving the green-eyed man a hard look as he searched his face. There was honesty there; he simply wanted a fight. In a way, in was honorable that the man came to him rather than taking it out on a student. Still, there was something about this that did not bode well.


Shaking it off, the taller man nodded once and shifted his stance to face Langley. He'd even switched styles too; rather than the constantly moving bounce of kickboxing, his stance was more relaxed and his long legs were further apart, his feet still. He watched the other trainer carefully for a long moment and breathed, concentrating on maintaining calm. This, undoubtedly, would be an interesting fight.

[Langley Vandeveer]

"I take that as a yes."

Shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet he bounced around to get the energy in his body flowing out its confines. He channeled it up around his muscles, through the vessels carrying his oxygenated blood, and settling underneath his skin to create this type of electrical current that sent shivers across the man's nerves. He tingled with the restrained power and cracked his neck with the feel of it flowing around his body. It was nice to finally be able to let it all out, he'd been holding it in way too long for comfort at this point.

In fact, it had been a while since he had gotten to let out energy in this way. It wasn't really the best way to take care of a problem such as this. In fact, going into a solo training room, punching and blasting a couple of objects and training the kinetic energy in its direction at certain targets would be a lot more conducive and productive than going out of his way to entice a fellow teacher to fight him. But it wasn't like he could fight his students. That would just be cruel. Nor did he find punching bags or shoot non-moving targets all that much fun either. Therefore, he was only left with two options. Join a gang or fight a fellow power trainer.

Actually, Langley wasn't even too sure whether or not the whole escapade about to go down wouldn't land him unemployed at Hammel, but that didn't really matter at the moment. It was too late now. The energy was flowing fast along his skin, and he settled back onto the tops of the balls of his feet as he readied his concentration. Looks like he would have to make the first move against Vincent.

He shot his right arm out, a standard right hook in boxing. Pivoting his left foot, he fell back into a protective stance and awaited Vincent's next move. The move had been sporadic and unexpected, his stance not even correct when he threw the punch. He had put his energy in behind the punch, so if it landed the energy would have easily done more damage than the fellow man had expected, or braced for. Though, if not, the man would have felt the kinetic current running along the line of the punch. Langley, wasn't an idiot however, he had plenty of energy stored up for more punches and moves here soon that held more pack to the punch then the little bursts he was releasing currently. The old man had to ease himself into this kind of thing after all.

Pivoting his right foot, he shot out with another punch, a left upper cut.

[Vincent Meian]

The whole thing was somewhat surreal. Vincent hadn't fought in hand-to-hand combat with a teacher since his first year teaching at Hammel's Japanese sister school, and for a moment he wondered why they were even doing it in the first place. Once the first punch was thrown, however, all wonderment over trivial things halted and his mind focused solely on the fight.


There was a high-strung energy in the air as the sudden right hook came towards him, and the trainer didn't have enough time to dodge. His left forearm came up strong to stop the blow and give him the time to move, but the force of impact strained his muscles even as he stepped with the motion of the attack. Someone with Langley's build shouldn't have been that strong.


He was using his powers.


A part of the trainer almost considered that cheating as he shook his left arm and reset his position, feeling bruise already starting to form. Another, much louder part considered it a challenge. So when the green-eyed man had stepped forward with an uppercut, the other trainer moved to the side and slapped his hand away, deflecting the force of the blow with as little counter-force as possible. The right side-step had opened Langley's back and side to him for a brief instant, and the taller man went for the opening with a palm strike to the ribs. If it connected, it would knock the other man back a step or two and force him to re-position.


Either way, Vincent stepped back again, wary after their short exchange. The difference in their heights wasn't enough to give the Japanese man the advantage like it did in most fights, so skill would be more important here. Already, he could feel a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. This was about to get interesting.

[Langley Vandeveer]

Langley's fist connected with Vincent's forearm, hitting dully against the chiseled muscles and bone strained horizontally across the appendage. He stared into the man's eyes the whole time, watching his movement. If he hadn't he probably wouldn't have caught the slight twinge in his face and muscles as he reacted to the over charge of energy and strength behind the punch Call it cheating if you will, but he knew that he wouldn't stand much of a chance in this situation if he wasn't. Plus, the whole point of the fight was so he could release all the pent up energy coursing through his overly strung body. Sure, he could have given the man a heads up before beginning the fight. But why wouldn't he use his powers?

"Well, I suppose that's not enough to throw you off, eh?" commented Langley as he shifted his footing back and side stepping off from Vincent to prep for his next move, an uppercut. A smirk developed as his body began to become over energized and work twice as fast as normal. A fight to Lanny kind of like having a massive adrenaline rush while riding a roller coaster. This was about as good as it got for him.

Once he saw him shaking his left arm to get the shock of his blast out of the muscles, he took that opportunity to land his next strike with the uppercut. Stepping forward, he shot his fist straight up towards the man's chest, but Vincent was fast and had redirected his uppercut to the side as he lithely side-stepped out of it's path. Lanny's eyes shifted to the side, but only just in enough time to catch the palm jab coming straight for his ribs. Dropping his arm at his side, squishing his side inward as to stray from the incoming attack, he braced for the jab.

Vincent's attack landed against half of Langley's side and half of the side of his arm, sending the a good foot or two to the side and off balance as he awkwardly shuffled and stumbled to keep from toppling over. It was a move that tripped him up for moment, causing him to regain balance and lose his previous close proximity with Mr. Meian. It was fairly crucial that Langley stay in close range with the man, that way he could better use his boxing punches and kicks to his advantage. "Well damn." exclaimed the man as he shook out his stinging arm and began his boxing side steps again as he bounced forward towards Vincent again slightly. The man could land a good hit, Lanny had to give him that

Looks like he'd have to take things up a notch slightly.

Positioning his fists up in front of his face, he shot out his right fist, a fake punch, whizzing it by the right side of Vincent's neck. His left shot out half a second later, aiming for the left side of Vincent's torso. Both punches were more strongly charged than his last, and even if neither landed, the charged kinetic energy could still bruise if his fists got close enough After which, he side-stepped back and to the right as he attempted to be moving in a circle around the other power trainer and keeping him in the center of his movements. In Langley's tactile mind, he thought of it as his best way to corner him, yet keep enough room for him to escape his attacks as well. That is, if he was fast enough. Who knew with this man.

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[Vincent Meian]

A light smirk settled over Vincent's face as Langley stumbled away. The man had caught his blow, but it gave the two of them some distance. The more distance, the easier it was for him to deflect incoming blows or for the other trainer to overextend himself in an attack. Better chances for openings, less chance for being seriously injured. Despite the desire for space, the Japanese man allowed the other to close the distance more before he began circling once more.


One thing to know about Vincent Meian was that he wasn't very fast. He didn't get up to speed in running or moving very quickly, and often in short sprints people who were much smaller than him could beat him outright. His movements were cautious and careful - a product of being so tall where any misstep could mean destroying a knee. However, there was a counter-balance to that.


He was all kinds of quick.


The first punch he made the mistake of dodging, leaving him directly in the path of the second. The left elbow dropped, taking most of the force in a slightly downward motion and nearly numbing the whole arm with the kinetic force imbued into it. The force was almost enough to spin him, but he decided to let it do so anyway; dropping to the floor in an instant, he snapped one long leg out in a leg-sweep. It was something of a special attack for the Japanese man - his legs were much longer than people gave them credit for, and he always fought in a half-crouch to keep the illusion of distance valid.


The sweep carried him back to a standing position, though reversed with his right arm forwards. Without hesitation, his left foot was where his right should have been and his right leg kicked out with a knife-edged heel; a lesser form of jump kick that provided all the power of moving forward with the stability of standing still. The kick had been aimed at the green-eyed professor's stomach if the sweep missed its connection, and if it hadn't well... Langley may just be getting a face full of foot.