Welcome To The: BUNK

46

        "Dont turn your back to me!" Bruce barked. A slap to my shoulder scent me stumbling off blance, and a kick at my sore, sprained ankle landed me back on my rear end with a defeated, painful yelp. A groan of disappointment gave way from the yelp, as I could already feel the sore muscles of my backside turn into bruises to huant me later on.  Bruce's style of spare was 'clean' wailing limbs, more calculated movements, there was thought in his moves to dodge my side, or uppercut punches, moves that would easily put down any rough housing Bunk inmate. His footing was squared, not scattered, his punches close and forcful, not flailing. I observed that Bruce white bunk leader, or not refrained from showing his full strength as only slaps and kicks reached my sore limbs, but that was no excuse to let him win this 'spare'.

       "Even when your trying to get away from the counter attack" Bruce warned, standing above me. his tall form blocking out the bright hanging light form above. i watched as his form stepped back away from me and lifted his closed fists to protect his face, nearly bouncing from heel to heel. 

  "Dont you know its eaiser to be tripped if your bouncing around like that?" I snapped.

"Are you sure? It was still pretty easy to trip you, and you werent even bouncing around" he sneered with a low amusing  chuckle. I had learned the word sparing was another weird meaning fighting, we where fighting each other in this lesson but the blows wernt as meaningful, just some weird form of practice i had never seen done before. Bruce explained it was part of adults coarse training lessons. I trusted his word seeing how his moves were much more directed towards less minor injuries then my straight forward blows.

"Come on tip we have to keep sparing until she says to stop" Bruce spoke again as i pushed my self up from the ground once again recovering from his last practice attack. I shoock out my arms to release tension building up, my back still throbbed.  Bruce was much more experienced and educated in this practice fighting, then i, Bruce would constantly remind me that I wasn't here to bash his nose in, or take him down with such force. Getting up i faced him once again, raising my arms to copy his actions and movments, even his footing, keeping my legs apart, never cross. He stepped to the side, i stepped to the side, he moved forward, i moved back, we squared each other off. All other noise and sparing groups forgotten, the marching steps of the adults forgotten. for a blind moment it was jsut the two of usstadning under a bright white light, everything elses clouthed in shadows, forgotten. his gaze locked with mine over raised fists, he gave a slight nod of his head towards me.

"Keep your elbows out, arms up. Remeber, keep your focus on me or you just might end up on the ground again." he commended.

" yeah, i got it. Dork" Bitter words and snappy remarks sat on my tong as my teeth caged the words in.  I watched as Bruce lazily lunched him self forward, stepping to the side doging his lazy actions i brought my right arm down, striking his back, copping a move he had done to me before. I moved away in the small square as he stumbled forward almost falling.

"that the best you got?" he teased as he caught him self from falling off the uprasied mat and turned. A few dry coughs puffed out his pale cheeks, rattling  from his chest as he readied himself again for the next round.

"You havnt seen anything yet!"

"Show me then," he challenged back. We squared each other off again, turning in a half circul watching for the others appoints openings, and blind spots.

"i wouldn't want to hurt your pretty face" i retorted using a trade mark tease i had heard Tracis and Sheen joke with each other. Bruce raised his fists, and shook out his shoulders.

"you think i'm pretty?"

"no," i huffed. Bruce swiped a fist across my vision as i moved back careful not to fall over the edge of the upraised floor. the wind form the  almost blow tickled my nose. i released a strike of my own, as i felt the impact of flesh meeting flesh. Voss. . . I attacked Voss, I had hit Voss. Bruce released a huff of breath in surprise, pulling me from my scattered head, as he tripped over his own long feet form the one handed shove.