>> "Aye, think I've got a fair idea what you mean now."

“I don’t think it’ll take too much for you to pick up the more advanced skills either,” Devon shook his head with a half-grin. “You’ve got more close combat experience. It clearly comes naturally to you,” he nodded. “Must be all the practice with your psionic weapons.”

They practiced more take downs and pins before moving onto the weapons training. Artair seemed to like the idea. Devon looked curiously over the collection of sticks, maybe tonfas, that he pulled out of a bag. He nodded quickly in understanding as it proved to be a staff. A smile spread across his face as Artair held it with his power.

>> "How about this? The constructs light enough to not to damage, just holds the staff together, although if need be I can make it stronger."

“Yeah, that’s great,” Devon nodded again as the pale white lines spread around the staff. “Can you or have you tried to change the color or hide it?” he asked idly but then chuckled. He bit at his lip, “Sorry getting into the mutant power training questions too early. Time for hand to hand.” Another eager set of nods and Devon stepped forward, the top of the closed umbrella pointed to the floor.

Devon made a formal bow and then turned to put a side in Artair’s direction. His head turned to so he could look forward over his shoulder. He held the umbrella out while the other arm went behind his back. Again, like he had during all previous wrestling practice, he bent slightly at the knees to stay loose and ready to move. Since he was trying to disarm Artair he didn’t wait for an attack.

A few quick leading steps crossed the distance between them. With a quick movement he raised the umbrella and attempted to poke it toward Artair’s midsection. Devon was expecting it to be blocked of course but first attacks were first strikes.

Grinning at his friends enthusiasm and questions, they were interesting things to consider. Hiding them certainly had a tactical advantage but something about that idea was just, off, to him. Like telling a person with an actual sword to just make it invisible. It just didn't seem possible. Which was weird. Maybe he was over thinking it, after all he'd never tried to. As for colour, that just didn't matter and frankly, he'd rather be spending time perfecting the scalpel blade than making the swords look pretty. Fighting trumped fashion in his eyes.

"Maybe by then I'll have time to think up an amazing answer." More than likely it would be, 'I don't know' but hey, something slightly less daft might come to him while they fought.

Bowing in return and taking a more defensive spear stance, this time he had the upper hand. he had the reach, the weight advantage and leverage. All pretty good strengths in a duel. Devon would have to get in pretty close to gain the upper hand, so he would keep mobile, stay back and wear him down. If he brought the 'sword' into play it might make things a little hairier, but the lack of shield hamper his friend in getting in close. There was a damn good reason spears were the most common weapon in most armed conflicts. Reach won fights. 

Letting his opponent move in, he was watching for the thrust. Pretty standard first strike and his response was more than easy. As soon as the attack started he stepped back and flicked the weapon aside with quick movement, keeping his own weapon point at centre of mass. It didn't take much force or movement from the bigger weapon, Artair simply had the large mass to work with. If Devon wanted to stay true he was going to need to use much more energy to attack and block than the Scot. If this was a normal one on one duel he'd just wear the other guy out and get a strike in when he was tired, but he knew Devon was going for the disarm.

Good thing spear training was versatile, more than one stance had the hands far back on the weapon, rather than in the middle. Sure it made it harder to fight two people at the same time, but he had the trusting power behind it. A quick blow like that, even with just a quarter staff could do serious damage.

Circling with short steps, he wanted the Bostonian always moving, always tense. Tense people made mistakes.

Feinting a short chop the his side, he plunged it down at the last second to go for the shins or feet, which ever were in range.

Artair didn’t seem worried, which was good so Devon hoped. The Scot stepped back and knocked the umbrella aside, the energy-wrapped staff kept center. Quickly Devon pulled the umbrella back as he leaned his weight back as well, a foot moving to adjust his center of balance and weight’s momentum. Devon was often about distance and dodging in combat, letting his abilities work for him far away from a melee. But even in close he was a weaving, ducking, moving target.

Artair seemed to anticipate that though, circling with a few short movements. Devon’s brow narrowed as they both shifted their positions. His friend went for a hit but after all the training they’d done on trick movements, suggestive body language, and feints Devon wasn’t surprised to see it strike down for his lower leg. He flipped the umbrella in hand to slip the handle down to grab at the spear-like weapon.

Devon wasn’t quite so well trained for that, however. He took a glancing blow to the shin, eyes narrowing a bit at the hit and pain. Te umbrella knocked it away from his feet after failing to get the hook. He pressed in at the opportunity and jerked the umbrella up, hoping to catch a part of Artair’s staff closer to where he held it.

A hit! Great, that was a good start but he couldn't get cocky, Devon was quick and reacted well, not letting him use it to sweep the feet. Lad was quick, Artair couldn't fault him that and he knew his strengths, moving in close. Keeping distance was not going to be easy, he had the feeling the cane wielder was going to constantly hound him if he kept too defensive.

He could move his hands for a more central grip, but all he'd be doing was losing reach. There was no way he could have the same speed, their weapons were just in different weight classes plus letting him that close gave him ready access to his hands. Which he was already aiming for and getting damn close with that last attack, his strike getting closer than comfortable.

Rather than let him slide his cane up for the strike, Artair used his weight advantage bulling the smaller weapon back and taking a quick step back for room. he had to keep it in his head that as far as weapon fighting went, Devon was still more skilled. He just had the advantage thanks to his power and variety. In a one on one duel, his friend was by far the scarier opponent. Using every trick and mind games was the best way he could win.

Throwing a few short test thrusts and letting the tip of the staff bob and weave he was standing more solidly than his opponent. The fluid moves were hard to predict, so he went for his own, giving the man a taste of his medicine.

Artair struck back, knocking the cane away, and Devon used the momentum to swing the cane up. He would have hit Artair’s face or neck with the hook had he not stepped back. Devon was glad for that as it showed the Scot either was learning to be mobile or was already comfortable with such strides. Only problem was, he was dodging.

The staff rose and Artair thrust it forward. The first came dangerously close to Devon’s shoulder blade. Devon brought the cane up vertically and pushed it out against the staff as he stepped in close once more. The hook was higher than the staff making initial grabs harder, but he pushed the base of the umbrella against it still, running it down along the staff’s length. He grinned, blue eyes watching Artair’s closely.

Another pull back and Artair sent the end of the staff toward Devon’s hip. He deflected this one with a quick swat of the umbrella but he knew another was coming. It was time to accept a little to gain a lot more. He stepped forward, still pressing his advance, but when the third wild jab came Devon turned to his side to expose his left flank. The staff struck the left of his chest with a wince of pain as Devon’s umbrella came up not to deflect but to deftly strike Artair’s hands with the hook ready to catch and knock the staff away.

The thrusts were good but Devon was just too damn mobile for many of his attacks and even the quicker ones were just a bit too slow. It was even more surprising when one of the short attack hit, glancing sideways as the cane came down right across his hands. Admirably hit but but s--- did he hate his friend a little while his hands shook a little from the blow.

Clever, he was willing to take a hit in order to go for the goal and knowing the weapon he was up agaisnt it was a good move. Stung like f--- as well, Artairs hands took a pretty hard hit and the impact nearly caused him to lose grip, but he was used to this. You didn't get far in H.E.M.A without being able to take a hit though and even without the padding and gloves he was used to this kind of damage. Having a high pain tolerance also helped. Oh and pain killers, they were useful. Thank god he wasn't using that sword or everything would be have been over right then and there. For both of them to be honest. 

What was puzzling was him trying to get the hook into play, sure a quick yank might do something, but Artair had two hands on his weapon and better leverage. It just wouldn't work. "Might not want to start a tugging match with me mate, got a tiny advantage ion that regard." He really needed to not get cocky, it'd only get him in trouble but if he wanted to hook the staff, why not show him how bad an idea that was? Yanking the hooked weapon towards him using the staff, he readied a downwards blow if Devon was pulled off balance.

Apparently the hit hadn’t been hard enough to loosen Artair’s grip. Devon’s eyes narrowed as the Scotsman tightened his hold and worked through the swift strike. The pain in his side was a reminder of yet another hit he’d been willing to take to try and move forward but without any result.

>> "Might not want to start a tugging match with me mate, got a tiny advantage ion that regard."

Devon chuckled with a single eyebrow raised. He opened his mouth, about to make a joke whether about tugging or Artair’s tiny advantage, but instead he snapped it shut and grinned. What was getting into him? Maybe it was the back and forth, the eager teasing. At least Artair was kind enough to warn, right?

The shorter, stronger combatant yanked back, the staff pulling at the hook. Devon’s grin widened as he held fast to the umbrella. The hook pulled the sword out of the umbrella as Devon jerked backward. He swept one foot out to trip Artair as he swung the rest of the umbrella against the man’s hands once more.

No wonder he had been so b----- confident, his attempt to yank the weapon away only made Devon more dangerous. Seriously, why did it have to be swords? About now he was really wishing he'd opted for a shield. With a shield and weapon, this would have been very one-sided in his favour but no, he had to show off. Now the guy could claim victory with a single, well placed hit.

Dodging the leg sweep, he shifted his hand position quickly to block the blade strike, letting it clang off the construct and then quickly shoving it away to give himself room. Things were getting hairy and now he couldn't sacrifice some pain for a counter hit and with the simple weight his weapon had even as light as it was by comparison he couldn't go for certain hits. Next time the sparred, he was tempted to put the rule down of face masks and gorget's. Then at least he could use the more disabling strikes the weapons he used gave him.

Using quick jabs and slices to keep space, he needed a plan. He was rapidly losing advantages and his friends higher skill level was coming into play more and more. Maybe it was time for an old classic of staff fighting. Counters. Blocking and striking in the same movement was a major skill in dueling with larger weapons, time to bring out those skills.

Unfortunately, the Scot dodged Devon’s attempts to trip him. A fall like that would have likely made separating the staff from him easy. The blade clanged off it instead as Artair rebuffed him and again tried to give himself distance. He was smart to do so considering the staff’s reach, which is why Devon was either going to stay close or far out that staff’s length.

This time Devon retreated back, giving Artair what he wanted. He jabbed and sliced, but Devon dodged easily. It was clear Artair was taking time, keeping him away. The few parries Devon made, Artair blocked and struck back against. What attempts he'd tried had gotten close but a stalemate was developing. Eventually, Devon stepped back and pointed the thin blade he held down.

With a nod he smiled, “I think that went well. At this point anything I attempted might be too dangerous. But I failed to disarm you and we got plenty of counter and dodging practice in I’d say.” Devon stepped over to where the fallen umbrella sheath was and returned the blade to it before bringing it back to the storage compartment he’d drawn it from.

Running his arm across his brow he wiped the sweat from it and then arched his back in a stretched. He rolled his shoulders and then did some reaches before bending down for his toes and stretching his back. “Okay,” he said from the awkward position. His blue eyes turned up at the Scot. “Got time for some actual power play or did you want to call it?”

Devon stood back to his full height and titled his head in question.

Their match ended pretty unspectacularly. Devon's disarms had failed but his attempts for a decisive blow hadn't really been any more successful. Sure he'd inflicted some bruises but nothing of any substance. Still, he had done markedly better than in the unarmed bout, able to hold his own despite his lower skill level. It wasn't surprising, but damn it did help his confidence.

"Aye, you got a damn nasty hit in though. On anyone not as used to pain as me that one would have been game over for them." Strong attempt and a very good way to deal with his range. "Still, I hope you'll no be upset if next time I wear some sparring gloves, they're still throbbing a wee bit."  Thankfully no broken bones though, that would have stymied his training just a little for the next couple of weeks.

Taking a couple of minutes to cool down after the intense exercise, it gave him a little time to consider his answer. It was hard to ignore how tired he was and pushing himself too hard was a pretty bad idea but a little light power training wouldn't be too much strain.

Looking his friend over, "I'm game, if you think you can keep up," a teasing grin on his face, "wouldn't want to wear the boss out. I hear he's ever so busy these days." Not entirely untrue either, the guy had a hell of a lot on his plate right now. Artair could understand if he wanted to save some energy in case he needed it.

"Oh, I do need to ask you something though. You reckon you might be able to help me source some metals crossbow bolts? The carbon fibre jobs I tried to use kind of.....shattered." B----- miracle it hadn't taken an eye out when it happened but it did make him see just how much energy the weapons he could make packed. 

>> "Aye, you got a damn nasty hit in though. On anyone not as used to pain as me that one would have been game over for them."

Devon chuckled briefly and nodded, “A better hit than I suspected to get but man you’re a tough.” Artair had proven his fortitude, certainly.

>> "Still, I hope you'll no be upset if next time I wear some sparring gloves, they're still throbbing a wee bit."

“Sure,” he shrugged a shoulder. “I honestly planned for something a bit more disarming than offensive, but you made it extremely difficult.” It was hard to tell just where Artair had picked it all up. He was aware of a few things, but the young man showed determination beyond the typical. He had skills beyond the normal. That’s how it went though, wasn’t it? A life atypical led to skills and goals unexpected. That’s why he was in Haven now.

Still, it was impressive.

Devon stretched and queried if Artair had time and energy for more. “Got time for some actual power play or did you want to call it?”

>> "I'm game, if you think you can keep up," a teasing grin on his face, "wouldn't want to wear the boss out. I hear he's ever so busy these days."

Laughter was the response. “Not as busy as you,” Devon grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “But I’m game. Always best to get some ability training in. It’s rare to be at the disadvantage of an adapted’s power. Good to train for, but it’s not common.”

Before they began however, Artair asked about metal crossbow bolts. That sounded pretty reasonable. Carbon fiber components were strong until they hit the edge of their toughness. Devon grimaced at the word shattered. That sounded like an unfortunate scenario.

“Yeah…” Devon nodded, drawing out the word. “Sounds painful?” half of his mouth turned up as one brow dropped down as if afraid to ask. “I’m sure we can get you that through Ranger’s contacts with little difficult. He’s a good guy, leads a good team. Remind me once we get back to the lockers so I can put it in my phone.” He gave another quick nod.

“As for our ability training, I think if we spar against one another we’ll end up in another stalemate. I’ll favor distance and dodging, et cetera. What if we bring up some drones to combat against? There’s a few scenarios anyone can bring up.”

"I was picking bits of it out my skin for days. Got to say I was not expecting how strong the crossbow was but jesus it's a monster." Take bow limbs stronger than steel and the power get's scary high, even for a medieval weapon. He'd seriously thought the construct had blown when the bolt shattered but no, nothing quite so dramatic as that. Thankfully.

"And I will, some range in my repertoire seems a good idea, actually be able to cover people for a change." Keeping people back was always kind of an issue for the Scot, as well as handling those annoying types that kept back and hurled whatever weird thing their power let them conjure up.

Drones, they had that? God the place was handy for training. Cutting loose agaisnt people wasn't an option but something like a target bot? This was going to be so much fun.

"I am up for that, give me something a wee bit challenging. I want to see how much I can push myself. Plus seems a good idea to get a feel for how our powers interact as a pair. Get a hang of how we can cover each others weaknesses." His was obvious, range but what was Devon's? What little he'd seen the guy had some decent power but did the lightning only work outside? Could he summon up a decent gust inside or were his stymied a little in enclosed spaces?

All very important if they ever teamed up again.

The matter at hand though, was training. The fun kind for once. Time to really see what he could do. "I'm ready when you are, just tell me when."

Devon grimaced then chuckled about the crossbow. It was good Artair hadn’t had an eye damaged by that bolt breaking. Weapons were dangerous even when you weren’t pointing them at someone. Careful weapon training and training for range were both good ideas. It was a strange accident he’d had training in one as a child and found his power benefitted at range. The destination often fit the road and now look where that road had taken them. They were training for real threats.

>> "I am up for that, give me something a wee bit challenging. I want to see how much I can push myself. Plus seems a good idea to get a feel for how our powers interact as a pair. Get a hang of how we can cover each others weaknesses."

That comment drew a smile and a nod. “Agreed. We’ve seen some of one another’s fighting talents, best to really know how we can work and protect one another in dangerous situations,” Devon said while he went toward the door. “I’ve got a few programs we can utilize.”

He opened the wall panel for the computer access and went through a few screens of access, entry, and listed programs. Finally deciding on one, he clicked for it to activate and closed the panel. Turning around back to Artair, Devon’s eyes were already darkening. “Computer, begin program.”

Floor, ceiling, and wall panels opened. Solid structures rose up with composite recycled stone and glass. Projectors sent patterns and textures to the structures and floor. The lights dimmed but new posts from the floor brought light to the false scene. It was a wide city street in Brooklyn, night time, and while a close inspection would reveal the tricks for now it would work well. A night sky of tiny stars loomed overhead.

Suddenly shrill masculine laughter filled the room. “They hurt me, now I hurt them! They’re my toys now!” it chuckled from above, the various building facades having a few windows each.

“Halt, mutants,” the sound of META bots chimed in unison. Two large, stout sentries walked onto the street from opposite alleys while a slender, quicker bot slipped out from behind each sentry. Their eyed blinked between green, soft blue, and then a furious red. “Stop, mutants.”

It was hard to not be impressed by the sheer impressiveness of the tech on display. It was one thing hearing of it, seen a couple recordings from others training sessions but standing in it's middle was something else entirely. Being in training room one moment, the city the next was more than a little disorientating. Or it would have been if a very creepy voice didn't pierce through the wonder.

Crazy people. It was always crazy people wasn't it. In this case, a program of one with very big robot friends. "Well s---, META's." Artair had heard of them, even seen a couple of them around the city but not this close and not with them very firmly looking at him. Didn't like them, not just the fact they seemed to have been programed by a complete moron but the broader idea behind them. They were weapons aimed directly at people who's crime was being different.

Oh god they even had glowing red eyes. It was like he'd stepped into some strange movie from his childhood. This was going to be fun!

Four of them, two big, two smaller. Probably had thick armour, chances are he wasn't going to be able to pierce them with anything short of a max power crossbow bolt. So he had two options. Hit their weak points, try and damage whatever exposed wires etc he could. Or, he could use a blunt weapon. One of those possibilities was certainly much more appealing to him. Artair was definitely in a mood to hit something hard. Focusing on a couple of weapons, he gave Devon a glance out of the corner of his eye. "How you want to play this? I more than up for front line work, got a couple of plans going."

If he could, he'd rather leave the quicker ones for Devon. Sure he could fight them but he'd have to sacrifice power to keep up with their speed. Frankly that just sounded like it would drag the fight out longer than needed. "I think I can keep the big'uns occupied, maybe even damage their movement enough to make them less of a threat. You good with the little guys?"

Looks like they didn't have long to make up their mind, the sentinels were already closing, with their smaller allies circling to flank. Nasty strategy. Focus too much on one front and get blindsided from another. Too bad he could defend more than one angle. Pulling a tower shield out, setting it to cover his left, he could feel the hammer in his mind begging to be released.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this mate. Let's see what these things can really do."

Devon noted Artair’s question of strategy and then a follow of up of deference for the smaller, faster bots. It wasn’t a request to a leader, more an equal footing to make a plan. That was good to see and hear for while Devon knew he was the founder of Haven, he didn’t want to be the only leader. In fact, Haven itself encouraged leadership in all of its members, not just those individuals involved in the mutant-focused, non-publicized activities.

As his dark, pupil-less eyes couldn’t be followed Devon instead looked directly at Artair and nodded as the air stirred and three gusts of wind collided on Tempest, raising him aloft. Their target was a mutant by the sound of it and his voice had come from above. With all the windows and building facades it was difficult to tell from where, but the primary problem were the META bots he claimed to be controlling. Technological mutant power maybe?

The sentinels were forming a perimeter as Artair called out.

>> "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this mate. Let's see what these things can really do."

“An unfortunately all too real scenario,” Tempest frowned. He’d fought this exact number before with other mutants. “Let’s hit ‘em hard.”

The humidity was climbing as he pushed another gust to fling him forward and up in an arc. Riot guns fire from both arms of both large models. Two went Artair’s way and two went Tempest’s. He dodged with relative ease, expecting escalation soon but again concerned with the smaller two he’d agree to concentrate on. Their sword-like appendages were also armed with small caliber pistols. Even if they were rubber rounds, they’d be sure to hurt.

Thunder boomed as Tempest flung out both arms, the air compressing downward and out to send two gusts in opposite directions. They slammed the quick-paced, leaner models as they came around to effectively be just beyond Artair’s line of sight. They flew backward, hitting buildings, but quickly rose back to their feet and started firing at the aggressor: Devon.

Tempest started to rise, but let the encircling winds around him drop suddenly as he landed behind the larger metabots and hopefully put them in cross target with their comrades firing.