(no subject)

[polyturtle]

WHO | Don and OPEN
WHAT | Training and stuff
WHERE | Training Room
WHEN | Throughout the week! But before super duper important plot stuff.
WARNINGS/NOTES | Possible violence. It is a training room after all!

Well. As if life couldn't get more complicated, he couldn't find Sheperd. At all.

Indeed, when he finally got the time to go and talk to her about the Stylists...she was gone. Her suite was bare, as if no one had been in there. When he tried to ask the other Mentors where Sheperd was, they told him not to bother looking. And...that scared him. And when he was scared, he tinkered.

And when he ran out of things to tinker with there was only so many modifications one could do to the holograph screens, he trained. And so that's where he was. This time, though, he was trying throwing knives for a change. They were a little like the shuriken back home, but longer. And with less control. So...he was getting the hang of them, but his aim was still...not as good as he'd wanted. A couple his the walls-

"Ah-"

His hand went to his temples. Shell the headaches. Every time he had a headache, he had memories. Memories of the last Arena. He was sure of it. But he had to get through them, not let the vague flashbacks overwhelm him. He had a mission and...and he had to focus on that. He had people to save from the Arenas.

Comments

[gruesome]

Some felt like he shouldn't be in the training room, like it undermined the point he was trying to make. But even if he wasn't willing to kill, he needed to avoid being beaten to death again, and the next Arena had to be coming up soon.

So he slunk in, sheepish and quiet.

[polyturtle]

Geez, he sucked at this. Half of his knives were stuck in the wall! How in the world did Leonardo or Raphael do it!?

And so, lo and behold, here is Donatello, trying to get knives stuck in the wall out - some stuck very, very well. Its as goofy as it looks, really.

[gruesome]

At least he knew Don. Some smiled, both jaws dropping a little in the grin.

"Would you need a little help?"

[polyturtle]

"Ahaha...yeah." Don looked at Some sheepishly. "If you're ok with it."

[gruesome]

Some put both forefeet on the wall, wrapping three hands around the short haft of a knife. If the many limbs of a grue had one purpose, it was leverage, and the knife popped out.

"Did you throw these?"

[polyturtle]

"Unfortunately." Don chuckled. "Obviously throwing knives aren't my forte."

[gruesome]

"No, this looks like you are very good at it... Isn't getting them to sink deeply the point of it?" Some offered him back the knife, keeping his long fingers well clear of the blade.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve is familiar with training, so he comes here to do just that. He's not scoping out the competition and he's most definitely not playing with the weapons in order to kill anyone with them, but rather because there's nothing else to put his mind on.

He pauses and then thinks that he probably shouldn't help anyone since they might be ready to kill, but in the same token, he wants to help everyone defend themselves from those people. He doesn't know which category Don falls into, but gives him the benefit of the doubt, and picks up a throwing knife from the rack.

"You wanna start out by throwing it straight; you can figure out its orientation after" He tosses it like one would a kunai, and lands on the target.

[polyturtle]

"...Huh?"

Don looks a little surprised, though not due to the mindset Steve had about the people in the Arena. At least, he didn't have that opinion about most of them... He just isn't used to people giving him advice in this place, at least not in terms of fighting. Mainly because he was the best. Not that he actually thought that out of some sense of arrogance; it seemed to be the general opinion of...well, people in general. A person with the second highest score and who generally ended up in the finals didn't need advice, apparently.

"...Oh. Right."

But, like what Master Splinter said about gift horses...and, well, his throwing skills with knives are pretty shell. They needed all the help they could get.

And maybe not throwing them like they're frisbees is a good idea.

So, he does his best to take this guy's advice, and he throws.

"Thanks." In the thigh. Not fatal. But its not stuck in the wall either! "...You're new, right?"

Hello boys don't mind if I thread jump right? :)

[x5452]

Max likes Don, so when she hears in passing that he's in the training room, she heads there to see what he's up to.

No matter that they're from different universes; in Max's mind Don is no different from one of the transgenics back at Manticore, and in a far flung way that makes him like a brother.

She walks in just in time to see the latest throw, her arms crossing over her chest as she looks between him and Steve. She checks him out thoroughly, clinically, and doesn't bother to hide it. Max is trained to evaluate the enemy, and her conclusion is:

This guy can be dangerous.

SORRY, I totally didn't see you there!

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve thinks throwing them like frisbees is a great idea, actually, and that's something he does a lot, with anything. But these knives just aren't the right shape for that, so he loses a lot of good motion and he definitely can't think of a way to get it to boomerang back to him.

He catches Max out of the corner of his eye, and it makes him feel like ants are crawling up his spine. It makes him frown, the way he did when he got here and they had to score him. So he turns his attention back to where it belongs.

"Yeah," Steve replies. "I'm new." And he'd give more advice to Don about hitting his targets with the knives, but he thinks hitting someone in the thigh and running away sounds like a better plan. Though, he could end up nicking someone's femoral artery... but it's certainly better than teaching him how to throw a knife in someone's chest.

"Do we really have to kill each other?" he asks, and from the frown on his face and his aim and stature, it should be slightly clear that his concerns are with him having to kill, and definitely not with dying.

:D

[polyturtle]

Baby steps, Steve, baby steps.

"...Yeah." Don is quiet for a moment, and then he sighs. If it makes Steve feel any better, the turtle isn't exactly gung ho about it either. Then again, when had he ever been with this place? "We do. That's why we're here. To...entertain the people."

He turns to look at Steve, and sees Max as he does so.

"Hey there, Max." He gave her a small smile. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

Hopefully the whole monster thing didn't turn her off.

Re: :D

[x5452]

"Don." A genuine smile etches across her face, as she approaches. "How's it going, bro?" she asks, before turning to Steve. "If it helps, you die, they make you better. Over and over and over again. And if you win, you don't have to go back."

[president_evil]

Across the room, hoisting his considerable muscle up to a chinning bar, was Wesker.

As soon as the creature entered, he had Wesker's attention, but he forced himself to continue (unwilling to give the turtle the advantage of knowing he intersted), watching silently from behind his shades.

[polyturtle]

Don was trying to gather up his throwing knives when he felt a chill in his shell. He turned, and saw Wesker. Something about him was...unsettlingly familiar.

Quickly turning back around, he proceeded to resume gathering his knives, hoping the newcomer didn't notice his unease.

[president_evil]

He counted to one hundred. Then again, before finally dropping lithely to the floor and reaching for a nearby towel.

He didn't stare as his rubbed dry, but his other senses were all on the turtle, acutely aware of where and what it was doing.

The knives sliding against each other with gentle clicks and hisses, the gentle pad of footsteps, and the strange heartbeat. The decidedly non-human scent of its blood... not necessarily bad, but, yes, different.

When one of the knives struck the wall with a painful clatter, he spoke up.

"With all your - talents, do you really even need those?"

[polyturtle]

At this, Don turned to face Wesker. He frowned slightly.

"One never knows when it will end up being the only weapon left to you."

He's pretty guarded; even if he's human-like, his animal instincts were...well, this guy didn't sit well with him somehow.

[president_evil]

"I've always been a firm believer that the last weapon is always oneself," he replied conversationally.

Deceptively relaxed.

"And in some cases," he draped the towel over his shoulder and finally looked up, judging the turtle from behind his dark lenses, "the first as well."

[polyturtle]

"...I've always been taught that weapons should be a last resort."

Good shell, this guy is practically undressing him strategically. And Don wasn't even dressed. But there was something else that just didn't sit right.

"I guess that doesn't count for much here, though."

Suddenly Don wasn't too keen on being in the same room as this guy.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

Momoko knew she couldn't put it off any longer. There was only so much survival focused training she could do before she was forced to admit that without knowing what type of Arena it would be, she was more likely to be wasting her time than not. Spending a day learning how to fish wouldn't help if they were dropped off in a desert this time.

Learning how to kill, that would always be useful, so finally she found herself staring uncertainly at the rows of throwing knives. It seemed a good choice, long range, not too much strength required, and it was usually use to make something sharp and throwable at least, but even now Momoko hesitated, hanging back to watch the others in the room, inching towards Donatello, the only Tribute she recognized on sight as 'not too dangerous', to examine his form.

[polyturtle]

Well, at his moment is form it "could be better". Though he was doing what Steve had suggested, his aim was still something to be desired. Though, he was slowly doing better. No knives in the walls now.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

It was far, far better than Momoko could accomplish, certainly, so with some trepidation she moved closer with a knife gingerly in hand, trying to copy how he stood. It was awkward, considering the physical differences, but the important were probably the same, right?

[polyturtle]

It was at that point that Donatello noticed Momoko. He gave a smile as he watched her ready a knife.

"Hey there."

[cowardfacinghappiness]

She returned the smile, politely, since she was trying to be more personable this time around, for the sake of Sponsors and allies. "Hello," she said, feeling suddenly insecure at being watched, hypocritical it may be.

As such her first throw is even worse than it would have been, falling both wide and short of the target, bouncing a little on the floor. She gritted her teeth, reminding herself firmly it wasn't ladylike to swear. Not in public.

[polyturtle]

"...I wouldn't worry." Donatello gave her a reassuring grin. "Still way better than my first throw."

At that, he pointed at the several dozen knife-sized holes on the wall behind the target.

"Throwing knives aren't...exactly my specialty."