2014.01.29 - The Power of the Pugil

It's morning. Jocelyn was just coming off a shift working in the medlab, helping out a little bit. Having spent a significant amount of time (to her brain, at least) running a hospital put her in something of a weird position of being able to be sort of useful in the medlab, and so she helped out there on occassion. Plus there was the whole healing power thing, but that was different.
Either way, the woman is dressed in a pair of jeans and an old New York Giants sweatshirt as she carries one of her class textbooks under one arm. Jocelyn figured she'd get some reading done this morning, as unenjoyable as that might be. It still needed to get done. She'd been less anti-social lately, though she's still been pretty busy, so she hasn't really kept up as much with the comings and goings as she has in the past.
Any X-Man or X-Woman who's read the reports from Nevada might appreciate why Kwabena Odame isn't in the brightest of moods. There is an allegedly time-displaced version of himself sedated and probably locked up in the Science Lab, being referred to as 'Shift Beta'.
At least they had the respect to refer to him as the Alpha.
Not only that, he's been going over the operation again and again. Being altogether too self-critical, or perhaps not self-critical enough. The result is that he's been out in the cold, chain smoking for the better part of an hour. The arctic air keeps his mind sharp, the constant influx of nicotine almost has him buzzing.
Every so often, the African withdraws his X-Comm and stares at it for a long time. He's yet to come inside the atrium, but he can probably be seen from inside.
Less anti-social, right. Given the situation she'd been in, it probably shouldn't come as a surprise when Doug 'ambushes' Jocelyn in the corridor, plucking the books out of her arms and shoving what looked like an American Gladiator-style pugil stick in her hand. 
"Yo, Jo..." Doug grins as he looks towards the woman. "What's up? You owe me more training." 
Pausing briefly to look at Kwabena where he's sitting, Doug leans in conspiratorially. "He's been out there for a while, just smoking. Got another one of himself locked up in the Science Lab, so I think he's just brooding. Maybe we should drag him into training. Getting hit a few times with a pugil stick in the face might help distract him, you think?" 
The book is a basic American history coursebook. Nothing interesting, really, at least in Jocelyn's mind. "Hey Doug. Looking for more training, huh? What's gotten into you?" she asks with an easy smirk. A glance is given over to Kwabena and she frowns as Doug fills her in. "I see. That'd possibly mess with his head a bit," she agrees. "Can't dwell on that sort of thing. You'd think we'd all be used to this stuff though. With all the timeline stuff we've run into, something like that is bound to happen sooner or later. Hell, there might even be a version of me that's into computers and all that stuff you talk about".
Pause.
"Well, okay, some things are a little too far-fetched," Jocelyn jokes.
She then looks back to Kwabena and focuses her power, though she doesn't look at him when she does it. The thermal energy is drained from his cig, and it promptly goes out and quite cold in the weather out there. No more smoke, maybe that'd drag Kwabena inside so they could talk properly. Really, Jocelyn didn't just mess with your smokes, Kwabena! She's perfectly innocent.
The concept of time travel and alternate realities was hard enough for Kwabena to stomach. Spending some time around the Summers-Grey clan has certainly helped, and he's done a bit of reading on Quantum Theory. That being said, facing the prospect of there being 'another you' is disturbing to Kwabena. Especially if that 'other you' turns out to be a person who signifies what he's worried that it signifies.
He lifts the cigarette to take another drag, but what he ends up with is a hard-fought-for breath of stale menthol. Eyes narrow, and he turns his head to peer inside.
Jocelyn.
The cigarette gets tossed to the asphalt and he walks in, bristling at the sudden transition from sub-zero to warm Institute air. His mis-matched eyes go straight toward Jocelyn. "Dat wasn't funny."
Though, after a few moments, his brooding turns into a very hesitant smirk. He can't really stay mad at Detroit, especially for something like this.
"Oh pshwah, it could happen. It'd be like, Mirror Universe Jocelyn, probably," Doug comments as he watches the cigarette goes out. Tilting his head, he starts to ask Jocelyn if she'd done something, before Kwabena confirms it, and the young mutant offers a broad grin. "You've been smoking long enough out there." 
Trying to reclaim the pugil stick once again, if Jocelyn lets go, well... Doug -might- be about to try and bap him with the business ends of the stick. 
"Well, that would mean for the first time I'd not know what to say to myself," Jocelyn replies easily. Then Kwabena is there, and she grins a little. "And you'd do the same thing if our roles were reversed here," Jocelyn points out, relinquishing the weapon to Doug with an easy smile. "Come on. You look like a man who needs to work some stress off". And she didn't see Rachel anywhere in sight.
Kwabena is certainly not going to argue with Doug on that one. He has been out there for far too long. He promptly removes his beanie and leather gloves, stuffing them into a butt pocket on his jeans. "You want to go and hit some few things?" he asks Jocelyn, before reaching out with a hand, both catching and clamping down on the business end of that pugil stick without even looking. Only then do his eyes dart Doug's way, and his grin widens. "You in on dis too, Ramsey?" he asks.
The pugil stick has -two- business ends, which is why Doug immediately swings up the other end of the stick trying to get a hit into Kwa's face. "You kidding me? It's winter, it's cold, and it'd be more interesting to spend time slapping you around. I've seen enough Doctor Who to last me... oh, a few weeks." 
"You call this cold?" Jocelyn shakes her head, amused. "To be fair, I've been giving Doug some lessons here, so he might actually get a few hits in on you Shift, if he remembers what I've taught him". She grins, watching the two guys go at it a bit. The woman starts towards the entrance for their sparring. "Though unless you want the Professor to put you on cleaning detail, I suggest you not get too into the 'swing' of things out here," she adds.
"And Doctor Who?" Jocelyn tosses out over her shoulder, though Doug at the very least will be able to tell that's meant as a joke on the name of the show, not actual confusion.
Doctor Who. Rachel's talked about that show, but Kwabena's never watched it. He's just distracted enough to come really close to getting hit, but he nimbly releases Business End #1 just in time to sidestep and avoid being struck by Business End #2.
"Hey," he asides to Jocelyn. "June through August, it's not cold. Oddahwise, it's cold. I'm used to it by now!" Turning agreeably (and probably a bit thankful for the distraction), he follows her outside. "Ramsey, I've been practicing at bettah controlling my changes. Sometimes I don't want to turn to smoke, even if it means taking a hit. So, dis might be your lucky day." Because otherwise, Kwabena usually makes a very annoying sparring partner. Just ask Laura.
Pulling back the pugil stick, Doug plants one end on the ground, posing triumphantly. "Doctor Who, yes. They just upgraded the first four seasons of the new WHO into HD, so... booyah." 
Canting his head to study Jocelyn as she goes for the outdoors, Doug skids to a stop. "Wait, we're going out there? I dunno about you, but I'm not going there. It's cold enough to turn even Kwa from hot air to an ice cube." 
"Oh, right. Too cold, unless I heat it up out there. Though if I do that, Ororo is likely to come by and complain about messing with the localized weather," Jocelyn responds with a laugh, obviously joking. "Let's head downstairs," the woman suggests. And she'll go to open up the hidden entrance, once she's sure nobody is coming, something she can be quite sure of with her powers.
Mental note is made: Pizza, Beers, Dr. Who, Rachel. Thanks, Doug Ramsey!
Kwabena makes no complaints about choosing an indoor spot. Once they have arrived, he strips out of his leather jacket and rolls up his sleeves. He almost forgot about the X-Men uniform that he pretty much always wears, and scoffs a bit at the double layers. Decisively, he just strips off his shirt, exposing the upper half of his uniform. "So, you guys have some specific rules when you do dis?" He eyes the pugil stick warily. "I'm good with guns and my own two fists," he explains. Kwabena had a unique skill set, to be sure, but ninja-stuff is not among them.
"Not really. She beats me up till I learn how to read her better," Doug replies, as he brandishes the pugil stick. In an attempted demonstration, the young mutant waves it menacingly, before trying a feint and a bap on her head. 
At least, Jocelyn was a big target. "Besides, she's got a -looooong- reach. Which means I need to fight smarter." 
Doug's feint is noted, and the real bap attempt is avoided simply by taking a step back and getting out of Doug's reach. "Pretty much. The sticks are padded enough that they're not going to cause any serious damage if no superhuman strength is involved, regardless of where you're struck". Which meant Jocelyn wouldn't be ramping up the powers here. "You can take a pretty good shot to the head and not get anything more than a slight headache".
Taking a few steps back, she gestures at the two guys. "You two can get started". It'd give Jocelyn a chance to gauge where Kwabena was with this sort of thing, and also a chance to see how Doug had incorporated his training against an opponent that wasn't her. She also reaches up and pulls the Giants sweatshirt off, revealing a grey tanktop that she's wearing underneath.
Kwabena watches Doug with amusement, though his eyebrows shoot upward at his remark about her height. "You're not kidding dere!"
He snatches up a stick, eyeing it. "Reminds me of American Gladiatah." Jocelyn's advice is also noted, and yeah, he's got a response for it. "Nothing some whiskey and Tylenol can't handle." Finally, he turns and studies Doug hesitantly.
When it comes to this kind of combat? Kwabena tends to fight like a dirty hoodrat, if he even elects to fight at all. He wonders for a moment how Doug will react. Shrugging internally, he suddenly grins toothily, almost ferally, while crouching down a bit. "Come 'n get it, Cyphah!" He advances, but stays on his guard, eyes flicking from Doug's weapon to his eyes. Always watch the eyes.
The problem with Doug Ramsey? He reads body language. 
The other problem with Doug Ramsey? He also speaks it. 
Which meant that while his body language speaks "Hi, I'm just playing defense, look at this, it's defense", and his eyes says the same, the shift to 'I'm attacking' is -really- quick. A moment of dissonance in the shift to body language, and Doug goes for the quick hit on the head. 
Meanwhile, Jocelyn is observing. Seeing how far Doug has come is gratifying, as it is anytime a student shows improvement. She recognizes the basics of Kwabena's style, as much as it can be called that. She spent enough time on the streets to pick up on the hoodrat style. She's got predictions on how this will turn out, but she keeps them to herself for the time being. Besides, while the sparring has it's own purpose, Jocelyn knew this had another purpose than just some practice.
Always watch the eyes. Trust your peripheral instincts. Scott Summers said that once. So did Deezy Williams on the South Side. Instinctively, Kwabena's weapon comes up to block Doug's strike, but here's where the hoodrat style comes in - it's a motion made with far too much ferocity. A touch of hostility flashes through the African's eyes -- quickly banished of course -- but in result, he brings the weapon down with predictability before stepping forward and moving to bat the weapon upon each of Doug's shoulders with a rapid one-two motion that almost resembles the testing strikes of a boxer.
"You guys know what my name means?" he asks.
The question might seem to be coming out of nowhere, but it's not. Doug would certainly know. Kwabena is the natural Ghanaian birth name for any man who is born on a Tuesday. Odame, his clan or family name.
Oh, Kwa -was- working off his eyes, judging by the way those peripheral vision worked. What was it Jocelyn had said? Force them to trust their instincts, give them what they expected. Apparently Kwabena was going to ignore whatever visual cues he was giving off and focus on the eyes. 
A faint smile crosses his face. Well then... 
"Kwabena Odame, born on a Tuesday..." 
Taking a quick step back fast at the warning signals of hostility and the way the muscles tensed, entirely too familiar with Jocelyn's MMA strikes, Doug shifts back. Feint, make them think you're aiming for a counter, and... look over -there- to tell him you're going to go that way, except you're lying with your eyes -and- body language, make him commit to an action there before you actually strike...
"That you were born on a Tuesday," is Jocelyn's reply, even as Doug is saying it. Yes, she knew about that. Obviously someone had to tell her, because she'd not have gone to look something like that up. "Odame is your family name". That's about as much Jocelyn knew. She does note that bit of hostility in the initial strikes from Kwabena. She starts stretching a little bit as she ponders where Shift is going with the name thing. It could be a number of things, she supposed.
Theres another reason hoodrats stick with the eyes. In the ghetto, 'who's tougher' had weight, like a strong bluff in a game of poker. With the right glare, you can scare your opponent into fighting like a pussy, who's about to get capped after getting his ass beat.
Only this ain't the hood, and Doug Ramsey is not a warring gang banger.
Kwabena falls for that trick and is completely caught off guard. He doesn't show any signs of anger though, which might be surprising. Deezy Williams also taught him to be adaptable. Piece things together. Learn your opponent.
"Nice," he remarks to Doug. "Well played!" It's a good honest compliment, without any snark. He begins circling Doug, backing off in an attempt to force Ramsey to make another move while adjusting his watch to include body language as best he can.
"In Ghana," he breathes, "You adopt a Christian name at some point if you go to America. Michael, Frederick... Isaac." He reaches out with the stick but makes no strike, further seeking to draw Doug out. "We nevah asked Isaac what is family name is, did we?"
"No we didn't," Doug replies, shifting from lying body language to SHIELD training. They'd worked with him on the past with body language, though it had still been in its rudimentary training stage when he'd left SHIELD. 
The trick, as Jocelyn had shown him, was to get the opponent used to a certain rhythm, then 'lie' and throw him off-balance, getting in some strikes. Which was why his style was more defensive/countering - in theory, he could have studied a ninja's body language, but it would have gotten -him- nowhere because he certainly didn't have the natural skills for that. Although violence -was- a language... it certainly wasn't one Doug liked to speak. 
The way the stick is controlled, Doug reads, sticking to patience. What was it Jocelyn said? The patience of the spider. Weaving a web of movements as language, seeking to draw Kwabena in... 
"We did not. Though his group is seeking him now. I had to refer them to X-Factor and Jamie Madrox." 
The pugil stick lifts up. Not a taunt, not an invitation to strike. Just "waiting". 
Having been out of the loop on Isaac, Jocelyn listens in to this discussion. Most of that work had been done while she wasn't available. Though the comment about the Christian name raises an eyebrow. "Why Christian? Not everyone in the US is Christian," Jocelyn points out. Honestly, when you ran into Asgardians and aliens and whatnot, religion felt a little bit weird, and was something Jocelyn hadn't thought too much about.
She also watches Doug to see what he does. Waiting and baiting. Good, solid tactics to see what Kwabena did in response to that. Learning the opponent was good, on both ends.
"Dey don't have to," answers Kwabena. "He's here. In our basement. He's Shift Beta."
Kwabena doesn't explain his reasoning yet. Doug's invitation draws Kwabena like a fly. He lashes out with a flurry of uncoordinated, lunging strikes, easy to read and anticipate. However, it's not violence that drives him, and it isn't really anger, either. It's frustration, a decision or need to simply let loose and work some things out.
"Evangelists love Ghana," Shift remarks. "Pepsi signs even have God on dem. It's a culture thing. Doesn't mean we all subscribe to it."
Having a sense of -what- was fuelling Kwabena now that he could get a better read of body language, Doug shifts more to just defending, being far easier to read now that he's concentrating purely on defense than on trying to 'communicate'. 
"Wait... Isaac is ... an Odame?" Doug actually falters as he slows down in his defense. 
"But then... he's got -different- powers from you." 
"If he's from a different timeline, then that's possible," Jocelyn muses. "There are all sorts of differences depending on the timeline. Experiments done on people alter them in one timeline greatly, other small events have big changes, whatever. It ultimately means they're a different person, with different values and views than the one you know, or the one you are". She continues stretching. "At least, when I've ended up in different timelines, that's been my experience". It was something Jocelyn had come to terms with long ago, really, and had simply accepted it as a part of life. Of course, it meant that the big explanations of such things in sci-fi movies and shows wasn't new to her, but that was alright.
Doug's defenses hold, but this doesn't surprise Shift. "He's not just an Odame." He relents at the same time as Doug, long enough to bat himself in the chest with the pugil stick. "He's me!"
With that off his chest, Kwabena grows much more focused and determined. He's pulling from all those things he learned in the field; from Wade and Domino before the X-Men, from Scott, Bobby and Kurt afterwards. "Monet has de data, she wants me to go dere and have some tests done. But we don't need tests. I can feel it. He's me, from somewhere else." He twirls the stick over his head, now learning how to lie with his eyes as he makes every effort at leading Doug into believing it's about to be a heavy downstroke against his head. Only, at the last moment, he feints left and angles the right side of the stick to sweep toward Doug's legs.
Oh Doug falls for the lie, simply because he hadn't expected it, concentrating more on Isaac being an Odame... or more specifically, Kwabena. 
From the ground, sitting up, using his stick to poke upwards as a means of keeping him back, Doug asks, "So what, you want to try and trace what universe he's from, send him back...? Or find out why he's -here-?" 
"Correction. He's you from an alternate universe. There's a difference," Jocelyn responds. "Doesn't mean there's a person here who judges you any differently, Kwabena, if that's something you're worried about," the girl tells him. "Or is it something else about him that bothers you?" Jocelyn asks. Because now that Kwabena was letting some steam off, he might be more receptive to venting his real problem, or so was Jocelyn's hope.
Shift was just as surprised as Doug, only he's had the time to brood over it. He reaches to offer a helping hand, but when Doug shows that he doesn't need it, he backs off with an approving grin.
"I'm open to ideas," he answers, truly at a loss on what to do with Shift Beta. Jocelyn, however? Her question brings him down to Earth. He falters for a moment, giving Doug ample time take a shot.
"I don't like dat he exists." It's a heavy admission, but it's the truth. The cold, begrudging truth. Shift Beta's existence had him feeling halved. Less important, less meaningful.
Attempting a sweep of the legs to get Kwabena down to -his- level, on the floor, Doug pauses afterwards, looking back up at Jocelyn, then back at Kwabena. "Why? There's probably millions more out there. Like there's more Doug Ramsey. At least yours has a beard. Evil, like a bearded Spock," he intones in that way that sounds very much like an in-joke of his. 
Using the pugil stick to draw himself back to his feet, Doug glances towards Jocelyn. "I kinda wanna check him out. Do you?" 
"There are infinite universes out there. There are probably a couple hundred that diverge from this conversation based on slight changes in topic, word choice, and all that stuff," Jocelyn points out. "Far as I'm concerned, they exist in their universe, and if there is ever a crossover, well, things are bound to be a bit weird. This is tame compared to how it could be. Rachel's put you through her simulation, right?" Jocelyn imagines Rachel has told Shift, by now, about her past. Or future. Take your pick.
"Love to, but I got a few things to do that are going to eat up my time for the afternoon. I'll swing by later though," the woman suggests.
"Oof!"
With a sweep of the legs, Kwabena goes down. When he hits the ground, he focuses more on not turning to smoke, and it works. He needs to learn how to take a fall, especially given recent encounters with X-Gene inhibiting agents. Doug's argument is heard, but... there's something about it that he just can't swallow. An expression that mixes borderline laughter at having a good sparring session with doubt at the possibility that he'll ever appreciate another 'him' being around comes to Shift's face.
Kwabena looks between the two for a moment, before climbing to his feet. Rachel had not put him through those simulations, and there was likely a very good reason for it. Instead of answering directly, he reaches out and offers a hand to help Doug get to his feet. "Could learn some few things from you, Ramsey. We ought to do dis more often. Just don't make Red jealous."
Deflect personal subject matter by making humor! Always a good backup plan.
"I'm only going down dere when Monet needs me. I think... I think I'll head into de city for a couple of days, clear my head."
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