Feint (Open And Welcome To Two Other People)

by **Parable** December 5th 2015, 11:45 pm

Brian Silverline bounced back and forth, hopping off the toe of one foot and then on to the other. At a extremely fast past--that still appeared reasonably mundane--the un-costumed hero skipped through a leather jump rope. All around the exercising teen was a motley crew of chubby would-be-boxers, semi-pro boxers, skilled teens, and even a few pro fighters.

*BEEP*

Brian acknowledged the buzzing of the timer with a slight speeding up of his pace; there was thirty seconds left in the round. The speedster remained completely dry of perspiration, as he began to cross his arms in front of him as he jumped, spin the rope under him twice every few hops, and in general simply fool around at an impressive pace.

*BEEP*

As the timer switched from orange to red, Brian slowed his rope with not so much as a sign of relief. Whereas most everyone else was panting from the past thirty minutes of jumping, for the speedster the 'exercise' had been akin to barely walking at a slow pace.

The hero kept a neutral, but friendly face, as he hung his jump rope up on the appropriate stand. After disposing of the rope, within a minute or to, Brian was sitting down to wrap his hands with his black hand wraps.

It would take less than a minute for Brian to wrap up each of his hands, before the speedster's coach was then lacing up his gloves.

"What are you thinking today, Chuck?" Brian asked complacently, as his instructor laced his white sparring gloves, at a painfully slow pace.

"Well." --the old man finished doing up his student's right hand-- "I figure we can throw you in the ring for a couple rounds, get you ready for that fight that's coming up."

Brian nodded.

"Sounds fine."

The hero pulled his hands back to his body, as his coach finished with his left fist.

"So, which of the guys?"

Chuck tilted his head to right. The man's teen pupil followed the motion, noting the well-muscled individual that his mentor was indicating.

"Jeremy over there."

Brian raised a single eyebrow.

"Chuck, last time I checked, he'd been pro for about a year?"

It wasn't that Brian didn't want to fight the man, with his powers it'd be no problem, he just wasn't sure about showing him up too greatly. The hero didn't want to seem too good; hell, he was already a golden glove boxer at sixteen.

"Yea and last time I checked, we wanted you to get there too," Chuck said simply, in response.

Brian nodded and took a deep breath, before looking over to Jeremy intently. Through the young man's eyes, the professional boxer was moving towards him and his coach at the speed of a snail.

Oh well.

It didn't take long for Brian and Jeremy to start their sparring; soon after the teen had just had his own hands laced up, he was touching gloves with his counterpart.

Slowly, the speedster moved into his punching range-- which was longer than his opponent's. With his trademark speed, and what appeared to be--but wasn't really--a sharp breath, Brian launched a jab that his enemy easily shoulder-rolled. The teen then took a light hit to his own face, as Jeremy stepped in for the counter.

Things couldn't look too easy.

So thus the rounds went; with Brian purposely missing and taking hits, while he evaded and outmaneuvered most of them. By the time the bell rung, it appeared as if the hero had just barely won the practice fight by a few points, when in reality he had controlled every aspect of the thing from the start.

"That's my boy! Beating a three-and-o pro on his first try!" Chuck exclaimed.

"We just need to work on that slipping, can't be taking that many punches in the pros!"

Brian patted his sweaty opponent on the back, as he looked over to his smirking coach.

"Jeremy here is really good, coach; it could have gone either way," Brian said, intentionally phrasing his words so that he wasn't quite lying.