🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One.]

   Star looked at the equipment locker, knelt down in front of the hasp and
twirled the old Masterlock still attached.  27-12-37.  Still the same after
all this time.  She stood up and walked further along the wall, glancing at
some of the group photos and certificates mounted there.  She smiled.  So
many students and team awards, but one person's were conspicuously absent.

                                -<*>-

   "Angie?"
   "Hmm?"
   "Where're Master Renaulle's awards?"
   Angie turned to look at the wall, and its small-but-growing collection
of awards of merit, photos and small trophies, actually reading them
through for the first time. "Hey, where are they?" she wondered, trying to
find the elusive momentos. "I never noticed that before."
   "Actually, that's because this spot is for your and the studio's
accomplishments, not mine. I have my own wall at home to look at. Sometimes
it beats television."  Both jumped a bit at the sudden voice and looked at
each other nervously, as Jean just grinned and went back to setting up.
Both of them grimaced, then hurried to help.
   Other students began filing into the room, ready for the day's trials
and tribulations.  Most of them still gave Chelsea the odd look as they
came in, but most at least had the common sense to continue on whatever
they were doing.  She sighed and made a mental note to fix the hair....
soon.  After the last mat was down and the class was in, Jean clapped his
hands twice and the general chatter stopped.  "Okay, five minutes to warm
up, people.  After that I'd like to introduce a new student who'll probably
be joining the class in a week or three. So! Five minutes."
   Most of the students immediately started a pattern of stretches, many of
them mirroring the rest as rote repetition took over.  Some others didn't
do anything, getting back to their conversations, and one or two did
minimal but focussed exercises.  Chelsea noted them almost immediately, as
she finished her own regimen..  They were the ones she'd generally had to
watch out for at auditions.  Odd how some habits just don't stop because
the venue changes.
   "And that's five, ladies and gentlemen.  All right, I'd like to
introduce Chelsea Montrose, from the wrong side of the Hudson."  Jean
paused to let the chuckles pass.  "At any rate, she's not unfamiliar to
martial arts and came with recommendations I respect, so I'd like to get a
gauge on what I, in my humble way, can teach her.  Anyone willing to give
her a chance to show me?"
   Murmurs came from some of the corners.  Chelsea smiled quietly, even as
someone finally came up.  Her shoulder length brown hair was tied in a
small braidless ponytail.  The soft angles of her face helped to bring
attention to the rather striking colour of her eyes and fair complexion.  A
black gi marked her as being somewhat different from the rest of the class.
"Well, I suppose nothing less than the top would be a fair demonstration."
   Jean sighed a bit at this.  "Renee, I want to be able to gauge what she
can do, not how picturesquely she can slam into the mat.  Thank yo-"
   "Master Renaulle?  I'm up for it....." Chelsea tried to keep the
curiosity out of her voice, failing a bit.  Something about the look in the
woman's peridot eyes annoyed her, or rather, challenged her. And probably a
few other emotions were in there too.  Almost without thought, she started
tapping her foot measuredly.
   Jean looked at the two and shook his head.  "I'm not sure how much I'll
be able to see from it, but it appears that I'm overruled."  He motioned
them toward the mats arranged. "All right, same as basic tourney.  Two out
of three unblocked hits or falls."
   The two ladies took opposing places at the marks and came to formal
attention.  Chelsea bowed low and deep, then came back up, arms loose and
shoulders low.  Her foot continued the tapping it had started earlier as it
slid forward a bit. Opposing, Renee made a cursory bow and inched her feet
away from one another into almost a parade rest footing as her arms came up
into a rigid guard position.
   For a long moment, any and all movements were confined to both
combatant's eyes as they looked for the hint of movement from the other.
Only the rhythmic tapping of Chelsea's foot was notable.  Then the team
captain shifted forward, her momentum focused on her arms as she brought
her open palm forward in a simple abdomen strike. Two taps of her foot
later, Chelsea had blocked the strike with her forearm and spun around,
placing herself a bit behind and to the left of her previous position.
Renee paused again, her mouth twitching for a moment.  Likely at the sheer
waste of movement, Chelsea guessed. Her foot continued tapping.
   Again, the next exchange was initiated by the chestnut-haired student as
she brought her leg around in a picture perfect mid-kick. Two taps, whirl
counterclockwise, in and slide.  Chelsea's left foot took the brunt of the
weight as her right slipped below Renee's outstretched leg and connected
with the right ankle of her opponent. Her balance disrupted, Renee crashed
to the mat.
    Chelsea smiled a bit.  "One."
    Her opponent got up, showing no outward reaction save for the blaze in
her eyes.  "One," she agreed as she drew herself into the ready stance
again.  Chelsea moved a bit, shifting the tapping to the unused foot. In
between one tap and another, Renee moved quickly, lashing out with one fist
and then, reversing her momentum hard, struck Star's knee with the opposing
leg.  The leg buckled, though she remained upright but off balance.  Renee
smiled contemptuously as she shoved her opponent's shoulder, overloading
what balance was left and dropping Chelsea. "Two."
   Chelsea winced a little, but got up quickly enough.  "Two."  She started
the tapping again, this time a bit faster.  The two combatants eyed each
other carefully, each watching for the subtle cue from the opposing
student.  The next set of moves went quickly as thrust, counter and return
action were parried as the two tried different areas of the other's
defence.  Torso, legs, arms, from the side and front.  All blocked in
sequence.  Finally, Chelsea started to slow down a bit, her movements
taking two taps of her leg instead of one, and allowing her opponent closer
and closer to that final uncontested hit. This weakness was not unperceived
by the other, as the pace of her strikes redoubled into a small frenzy of
kicks and palm strikes, as she pressed the advantage.  Chelsea smiled as
her arms, and the rest of her dropped suddenly, her legs forming a perfect
split.  At the same time, her right arm shot forward, coming in under
Renee's defences.
   "Well, I'd say that was three," commented Jean.  "And a bit more
informative than I thought it would be.  About both.  Renee, you and I need
to discuss forms a bit, later.  As for you, Chelsea, I think I see at least
part of why Hiro sent you here.  How long would it take you to learn the
basics, do you think?"
   "I ... don't know.  I'm not sure how similar they are to what I already
practice."  She shrugged.  "Two, maybe three weeks for basics.... less, if
more instruction time is given."
   "Hmm.  I'm not sure if I agree with that assessment, but it depends on
how many habits you have, I think.  That last bit was inspired, and totally
unsafe at the same time."
   Chelsea flushed.  "It seemed right at the time...."
   Jean nodded.  "For one-on-one, yes.  For much else, not very practical.
But I'll discuss that later with you as well. Right now, I'd like you two
to observe and cool down."  He turned back to the group.  "All right,
folks, that means that the show's over and time to practice......"
   As the two combatants watched the others start a kata regimen, the
veteran looked over the upstart warily.  "If I came to you again, which
would you rather see, open hand or closed one?"
   "Closed, of course."  She glanced curiously at the savate student. Renee
turned her head forward and gazed straight ahead.
   "Of course."
   "Because an open hand is ...."
   "Karate."  Renee interrupted and finished.  "Yes, that's right. Excuse
me, but I think I have no more need to cool off."
   Chelsea watched the other woman move off.  "Whatever."

                                -<*>-

 As she walked past the long mirrored wall on the west side of the studio,
Angellica brushed her hand lightly along the cool silvered surface and
turned to stare at her reflection. For a moment, the face that gazed back
at her seemed so much like a stranger, but then that sensation vanished as
she looked beyond herself, catching sight of the coffin behind her,
reflected in the mirror.

                                -<*>-

   Angie bowed to her sparring partner, who returned the gesture stiffly
and meandered off to the change room for a long, hot shower. With a sigh,
Angie slumped down onto the bench which was inset into the mirrored wall,
the tensions which she had tried to work out through battle quickly
returning.
   "That was quite some punishment that you gave Stan," called a voice from
the other side of the room. Angie started slightly, having been sure that
the studio was empty for the moment. "What did he do, Angel, clip your
wings?"
   Oddly, Angie didn't feel her usual need to wince at the diminutive. She
looked at the floor, hiding her feet under the bench. "We were just
practising," she mumbled to Renaulle, who had drifted in from his office.
The man nodded and took a seat next to the girl.
   "I was watching you out there. Stan might've been sparring, but there
was more to what you were doing. He got off lucky. I'd say that you got off
luckier. Before you put one of my prized pupils in traction, do you want to
talk it out? Or practice. I'm good at both."
   "There's nothing I want to talk about," replied Angie, pushing down a
sudden impulse to tell all to this sympathetic ear. Renaulle nodded.
   "So it's practice then," he said, standing and beginning a few simple
stretching exercises.
   "But... I didn't say..." began Angie. At Renaulle's look, she stopped
and reluctantly walked to the mat. Her teacher followed.
   The two sketched a brief bow and dropped into their favoured stance.
Angie stood straight backed, arms uneven and at the ready to lash out.
Renaulle dropped into an easy crouch, pushing his centre of balance low.
Angie waited for a moment before taking the initiative, feigning low and
then high with her open palm. Suddenly, the room tipped as her legs were
swept out from under her.
   "Ow!" she complained, feeling the sting of the floor. Renaulle chuckled.
   "That wasn't you behind that strike," said Renaulle, offering a hand up.
"That was a part of you. What happened to the rest?"
   Angie looked at the ground again, then back up at her teacher, sighing.
She led the way back to the mirrored wall, sitting down even as Renaulle
slipped quietly next to her, to talk.

                                -<*>-

   Angellica's eyes drifted from the coffin, brushing lightly over the
crowd. Suddenly, her vision was caught by a streak of brown hair, loose and
flowing over a flash of white. Two pairs of eyes locked for a second, but
when Angellica had turned the intensely green-eyed woman had vanished into
the crowd.
   Those eyes tugged at a forgotten corner of Angellica's mind and a name
escaped her for a moment. R... something beginning with R... Renee?

                                -<*>-

   Angie smoothed her elegant black skirt as Mama Leone called up to the
girls above. Class had been cancelled that day, and the several women had
decided not to waste a chance to hit the town running. After collecting the
usual suspects, Angie had decided not to pass up a chance to defrost Renee
Dupuis, the studio's team captain and local ice queen extraordinary. If all
went as planned, the one-woman welcome wagon would score yet another
victory in her never ending crusade against isolation.
   Himiko and Chelsea raced down the steps, the former in a beautiful red
satin dress and the latter in relatively standard navy slacks and white
blouse that drew attention to her auburn tresses, by contrast.
   "I could've sworn you'd left the studio raven-haired," grinned Angie, as
she looked Chelsea over.
   "It up and flew," sighed Chelsea regretfully. "The dye ran a bit when I
went to shower."
   "Are we ever going to see your natural hair colour?" giggled Himiko,
coiffing her own ebony locks.
   "Who's to say you haven't, 'Miko?" asked Chelsea, with a sly smile,
drawing more giggles from both.
   "I certainly hope that all of tonight's conversation will be as
entertaining as this has been," Rene commented as she gracefully descended
the stairwell, bringing three pairs of eyes to stare at her elegantly cut
black evening dress.
   "Lighten up, Renee," replied Himiko. "It's not like you're guarding the
studio's honour or something."
   "I tend to concern myself about these things," replied Renee with a
disdainful sniff. "Far more than some people, perhaps."
   Chelsea opened her mouth to reply even as Angie quickly cut in. "So!"
said Angie. "Where are we going to go to break a few hearts this fine
evening?"
   "Oh, anywhere's fine," replied Chelsea, her attention redirected. "I
heard about this club a few blocks over from Younge--"
   "Ah, that little place," interrupted Renee. "I'd imagine that it's a
spot to frequent if you're not feeling terribly adventurous."
   "And I suppose you have another place in mind?" asked Chelsea.
   "As a matter of fact, the Richmond is more my style. But it might be a
little too fast paced for some of the more delicate amongst us."
   "Sister, you don't know what pace I can take!" Chelsea retorted.
   "Great, so we're settled?" Himiko said quickly.. "All the good fish will
be caught by the time we get there if we keep talking about it!"
   "Of course, you're going to be throwing your catches back in anyway,"
muttered Angie, causing Himiko to flush.
   "Y-yeah, 'Miko's right.  We're wasting moonlight."  Chelsea opened the
door, and turned back to the girls still in the hallway.  "Well?" Himiko
and Angie grinned and walked out.  Renee snorted and smiled a private,
hidden smile before following at a slight distance.

                                -<*>-

   Up near the front, Himiko sighed and stood up.  "Friends, thank you for
coming.  I'm so glad that Jean will be remembered, and by so many. But it's
time for the viewing to end, and I'm afraid that I need some time to sort a
few things privately.  Thank you all for coming."  She smiled bravely and
sat down.  Slight murmuring, returned blessings, and other general
chattering lessened as people started filing out.
   Angellica glanced from the coffin to Himiko one last time as she turned
to leave. "I'm sorry," she murmured, brushing against another exiting
well-wisher as she moved to collect her shoes.
   "That's quite all right," replied the woman, moving past before
Angellica could see her face. "I have a great deal on my mind too." Her
immaculately styled brown tresses bounced a bit as she sauntered off.
   Star watched as most filed out.  She turned her eyes back to Himiko, who
had closed her eyes as she sat.  Star opened her purse and rummaged around,
pulling out a scrap of paper and a pen. Carefully, she wrote some
information on the note, and started walking toward Himiko.  She stopped a
small distance away as a moment's doubt caught her.  Quietly, she deviated
from her course, and placed the paper with the guest book.  'Miko could
find the note there, Star reasoned.  She didn't look back at the casket as
she left.  In her mind's eye, she saw the more important part of Jean's
legacy than a box of wood.
***
   Angellica let out a slight sigh of weariness as she dropped her
carry-all into the empty closet, placed her key on a barren table-top and
walked into a sparkling washroom, sanitised for her protection. The whole
room had been sanitised of anything which could link it to the world of
human contact. Taking several tissues from the gleaming metal dispenser
within, the woman wiped once across her eyes before wandering back into the
main room. Almost possessed with the urge to litter in this sterile room,
she dropped the tissue onto its immaculate floor before lying on the bed to
think. As she closed her eyes, Angellica felt a familiar mental presence
touch her mind.
   "Shard," said Angellica, opening her eyes and watching the crystal float
over her bed, "I need a little privacy."
   Shard's response to the request seemed both confused and shocked. For a
moment, Angellica began to sort through the alien thoughts in her head
before casting them away. She immediately felt the day's pain so much more
acutely, as though Shard's presence had dulled it somewhat.
    "I said I need time," she replied, her voice slightly hoarse. "Could
you please just... please? Give me some time to think on my own?"
   Shard pulsed once with resignation and floated away, withdrawing from
Angellica's mind. She was once again alone in her small, clinical room with
her own thoughts and no one else's. No one else's.
***
   Star sighed slightly with relief as she as she took off her burdensome
coat and looked about.  Over on the couch, Reba was lightly snoring, the
inane chatter of a TV talk show almost imperceptible at the low volume
level.  She smiled for a second as she reached a hand to her hair and undid
the braid, allowing the black locks free.  Careful to not wake her sleeping
roommate, Star pulled out a small cellular phone and dialled.
   The phone rang for about three rings before the connection was
established.  "Hell<tm>'s Fourth Circle.  Dante's out, but substitutes are
standing by.  What's up?"
   Star grimaced.  "Syl, what if it had been someone else calling?"
   Syl's voice dripped sarcasm.  "Then they'd have one Hell<tm> of a wrong
number to talk about.  Glad you and Sis made it safe and sound. Wish we
were up there with you.  MAN, do I."
   Star blinked.  "Problem?  We have a return call from our little pests?"
   Syl paused for a bit.  "Actually, I don't think so.  It's just this
entire bleedin' town's INSANE.  We're dealing.  Huh?  Whazat?  Oh. Ted says
he sends his love  (Well, why did you just motion to me instead of the ---
er, right, *ahem*).  Anyway, Ted's getting on the phone, and I'll fax in a
situation form when we figure out how bad the morass is. WE haven't been
able to even scout the location yet.  Will call with more info.  And here's
Ted."
   Silence greeted the line.  Star smiled.  "Hi, dear.  I know, I know, you
hate this being one-sided.  'Miko's hurting but well, and it looks like
Jean's a hero.  I know, he's not that type, but that's what they're making
of him.  Reb and I'll be back as soon as we can. And.... I miss you a lot,
Ted.  Things keep reminding me.  I'll say more when we meet. I think it'll
be about four more days.  Remind Syl to tell Jaquie.  I love you, Ted.
Good night."  A small click on the other end told her that Ted had hung up.
She smiled wistfully and disconnected her end. Glancing at the clock, she
sighed and walked over to the bathroom.  The burial was in the early
afternoon, so getting to bed was probably a smart move on her part, after
all.
***
   A small crowd huddled under their rain slickers and umbrellas, shielding
themselves from the fury of the elements as they clustered around Jean's
coffin, awaiting some final words before the first handful of dirt was
dropped. A heavyset man checked his watch impatiently, tapping his foot and
wishing that he could get out of the rain.  He stepped forward as the
priest finished his service, whispering in the parson's ear.
   "'Scuse me, Padre, but I'd like to say a few words on behalf of the
community."
   The priest glanced at Himiko, whose attention was absorbed in the
casket. Lacking a guide, he nodded and stepped back to let the newcomer
speak. The man cleared his throat loudly, attracting the crowd's attention
to himself.
   "Bereaved brothers and sisters, I stand with you today in sorrow, in the
loss of a veritable pillar of the community. We are all diminished by the
death of," the man paused for a moment, glancing to his right at the
gravestone, "Jean Renaulle, hero in our city's darkest moment, a man
willing to selflessly sacrifice all for his town and community. A man
without regrets...."
   Angellica looked up from her quiet meditations on the grave site, her
face growing dark at the man's smooth and overly polished routine. She
listened as Jean was repainted in the colours that this man had selected
for him, and realised that if he had his way, she would be attending the
funeral of a stranger.

                                -<*>-
[Continued In Part Three, Immediately Following]