Black Beauty- Steve HarringtonxOC

Chapter 21

"Doing good, kid. Keep it up." The middle-aged, heavy-set brunette swings one of his gloved hands at her head. Filly ducks, and then her bent knees spring her back upright, fast. Her fists are in a tight formation around her face, her own boxing gloves concealing her temples.

He winds up, feinting a left hook to her head, instead going for her midsection. She spins out of the way, using her arm around his shoulder to force him behind her. Hopper reverses, keeping her in his sights. He didn't teach her how to do that, which can be said for most of the things she does. Each day she exceeds his expectations.

This little filly was not so little anymore. The swell of her bicep isn't exactly defined, but the musculature she gained over the last eight months was readily apparent. Not only in the way she walks and moves, but in the way she holds herself. All of her other movements had become more controlled. She's by no means done training, but her progress is incredible.

She aims a turning kick at his thigh, but he blocks it with his shin. He knows it must hurt like a bitch from the pained expression on her face. It hurts him too, but he telegraphs it less, his eye barely twitching. He knows she's gearing up for a hit when her neck and jaw tense, her body twisting to one side. She tries sweeping his legs, but he blocks it by twisting his leg so that she hits his shin. He's too heavy for her to sweep, she would do better by tipping him over.

She turns it into a unique move and he can't adjust his counter attack fast enough. His strength and experience may be superior, but it was by no means easy to beat her. The skill she has over the pudgy chief is her originality and quick thinking. Coupled with the agility of her small frame, she can be especially dangerous. She is not one to underestimate, lest he lose to her. She spins onto an angled handstand, kicking her feet out and planting them on his shoulders. She pushed off of him, as though jumping from his collarbone, and he topples like a domino.

Innovative, he thinks to himself as his skull narrowly misses a blunted rock. Every time he trains her these days, she finds a way to show him up. Laying on his back, he can't tell if that's a root or a bone sticking into his ribs.

She's crafty, but he'd need to talk to her about what kind of moves are allowed in sparring. Some of the concepts she has come up with are better left for an enemy, someone you really want to hurt. He isn't young enough to be her punching bag for much longer, not with her unconventional style. It was easier to bond with over these things, easier than talking about Harrington. Hopper despises that boy. He's not letting that brat ruin her or take her innocence. Nobody ever will, not if he has anything to say about it.

There's not a line he wouldn't cross for his girls. He'd protect them, in ways he never had the chance to before, with his first daughter Sarah.

"It is fascinating what 20 bucks will get you at the county recorder's office." Robin's backpack lands heavily on the countertop, startling Filly out of her reminiscing over her training sessions. The younger teen's braceleted hands spread a large white and blue paper over the table. Her black nail polish contrasts with the bright colors. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints."

Dustin's brows raise and he looks at her appreciatively. "Not bad." They stand next to each other on one side while Steve sits, his knee bent and a foot up on the chair. Filly, who was previously pacing the area, slides her butt onto the edge of the table, almost clipping Steve with one of her bent knees.

"Yes, in fact the opposite of bad." Filly doesn't understand why they're pointing out the obvious, but she's just happy to participate.

"So, this is us, Scoops," The four of them bow over the flat map of the building. Robin slides her finger from our location to far up to the opposite side of the table. "And this is where we want to get."