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The bright effects of transmat fade as your feet landed on solid ground. You took in the familiar sight of the Derelicts kitchen, and while you’ve only been here once before, the handful of alcohol filled bottles on the countertops made you feel more than welcome.
Hey, anytime you're done with whatever that blue, grumpy Commander of yours sends you off to do, you feel free to come to visit old Drifter. Help a guy feel a little less lonely.
Of course, you were more than happy to oblige.
You aimlessly roamed the dark halls, occasionally calling out the Drifter’s name as you found yourself helplessly lost in twist and turns of the halls.
“Should put up some signs or somthing.” You muttered as you continued to search for the Drifter.
The sound of music eventually found your ears, and followed the faint sound until it leads you to a garage-like space.
The room's floor was covered in a series of large mats, with a handful of large weights scattering the area. In the far corner, hung a large punching bag, with the Drifters back facing you as he dug into the hanging opponent. Covering the Drifter was a simple pair of sweatpants, and a thin, long sleeved shirt. With the pools of sweat that coated him, the fabric clung skin tight to him, displaying his athletic, robust frame.
You leaned against the wall for a moment, appreciating the view as he mercilessly landed blow after blow into the bag, each devastating swing he landed sending it further back against its own momentum. Even without the Light actively supporting him, his body's strength amazed you at times. Training such as this would certainly retain his physical physic, despite him very rarely fighting on the field.
You look over to the large boombox to your side, loud waves of rock music emitting from it. You reached over, pressing the mute button. Drifter broke from his gaze from the bag, confused at first. His expression changed when he laid his eyes on you, a smile forming across his lips.
“Woah, you stalking me or somthing?” He laughed as he grabbed the still moving bag, balancing it.
“No, just admiring the view.” You responded, a sly smile on your lips.
He approached you, looking down on you as you bit your lip.
“Well, I ain’t your eye candy sweetheart.” He whispered as he placed a lazy kiss on your lips. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling each curve and bump that his skin tight shirt exposed.
He broke away from you, his eyes widening at an idea.
“Hey, you ever box before?” He asked.
“No.”
“Get out of that armor, I’ll show you how.” He responded, then headed back towards a table off along the wall.
You held out your Ghost and transmatted off your layers, leaving you in shorts and a tank top. He walked back over to you, athletic tape in his hand. You offered him your hands, and he started wrapping in and out of your fingers, until your knuckles matched his already taped ones.
He then brought you over to the bag, and you observed as he showed you some of the basics.
“The idea is to be quick, but strong. Don’t draw out your punches, makes the bag come back and hit you. You wanna hit it swift and hard.”
You followed his lead as you hit the bag a couple of times, your punches swift and solid. The bag was heavier than you expected, but with your natural strength, you managed just fine.
“Huh, you're hitting that thing like its nothing. Not much compared to a Hive god, huh?” He snickered, crossing his arms across his chest.
You stood out of your fighting stance and grabbed the bag, balancing it’s swinging.
“We could fight.” You suggested.
“You tryna get me killed?.” He laughed “I’ve seen you out there, I ain’t no match for you and those flashy powers of yours.”
“I mean we could brawl, train the old fashioned way.”
He uncrossed his arms, a wide grin across his face.
“Sure, why not.”
You both shook off your shoes then positioned yourselves in the center of the room, on top of a large, soft mat.
“Rules?” You asked as you stretched out your arms.
“Don’t hit the face, and other places.”
You laughed, then rose your hands defensively to your body, and he did the same.
You advanced first.
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You had brawled for a long time, exchanging swings and blows until both of you were breathless, dripping in sweat. But neither of you tapped out, both of you determined to fight until you drop.
You had both managed to get a couple of good hits in. The Drifter had landed a hard blow on your ribcage, which still stung. And you just recently landed a swift kick on his knee, which left his left leg with a slight limp. You knew that leg was your ticket to winning the fight, but he had turned his frame, positioning that leg away from you. He was much larger and towered over you, but you knew that if you wanted to get to that weakened leg, you had to get within his grasp.
You charged towards him, placing relentless punched towards his chest, him blocking and dodging about half of them. You tried to advance him further, but as you stepped closer he quickly ducked down and grabbed you by your exposed legs, hauling you over his shoulder.
You struggled in his grasp, landing blows onto his back. In response, he swung you off of him, and the breath was knocked out of your body crashed onto the floor. He quickly bent over you, pinning your arms to the mat.
You struggled against him, but his arms didn’t give way. So you bent your knee upwards, landing hard blows on his back. With him staggard, you quickly freed a pinned arm and pushed him off of you. You then swung your legs under his limping one, sending him to the floor. You wasted no time crawling onto him, pinning his arms with yours, and using your knees to pin his legs, not allowing him to pull the same trick on you.
You both heaved heavily, your chests rising and falling as the sounds of your breaths filled the room.
“I… think you got me.” He wheezed.
With that, you released your grip on him and slumped your chest down to his, exhausted.
He landed a lazy hand on your back, laughing.
“That was one hell of a fight, remind me to never piss you off.”
“You got some good shots in, my ribs still sting.” You admitted, patting his chest.
“Ha, my whole body stings. You tryna put me in the dirt?”
You rose your head from his chest, and crawled up against him so that your face hovered over his. You rose your bruised hand into his sweaty, wild hair. He closed his eyes as you caressed his scalp, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
“Never.” You whispered, and his eyes opened, meeting your soft gaze.
He rose his own hand to the back on your head, pulling you to his lips.
After a couple of seconds, you broke from him and slid off of his frame, him grunting in pain as you did. Twin Ghost slipped into view as you helped him sit up, him grasping his injured knee. The Ghosts worked their Light over your bruised bodies, the hot energy filling your body from your core to the fingertips
Relief flowed through you as the throbbing pain at your side left your body. You looked to the Drifter, and relief filled his own features as his Ghosts Light worked over him. You were happy, oh so happy, and thankful for the sight you saw. One of bright, beautful Light filling the Drifter, healing over his battered body. The man may have claimed to have given up on the Light, but you knew with what you saw that the Light hadn't given up on him .
“What you smiling about? Does beating the living hell out of an old man make you that happy?”
You didn’t respond at first, but your smile never fades as you leaned over and place your mouth to his check.
“No, I’m just happy. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
You squealed with excitement as he suddenly rose and picked you up, bridal carrying you.
“Where are you taking me?” You giggled.
“Good times call for drinks Guardian.”
He entered the kitchen with you in his arms, then placed you on the countertop, planting a kiss on your lips before he left to retrieve one of the many bottles on a nearby table. He took the first swig, then offered it to you.
“Drinks after a workout huh? My kind of style.” You said as you accepted the bottle. He came close to you and rested himself between your dangling legs, placing his hands on either side of you.
“Yeah, you just showed me how much I need to get back into hand to hand combat training.”
“It’s not like you’re always out on the field, why do you need to be able to fight as if you do?”
He looked down as he moved his hands to your thighs, drawing a deep breath.
“Things used to be really tough. With half the world starving, I barely had the strength to stand, let alone fight. Couldn't do much as I watched War Lords kill lots of innocent people, Iron Lords too, even if they didn’t mean to.”
You set the bottle to the side as you placed your hands over his. He then twisted his up to curled his fingers around yours, looking back up to you.
“I don’t wanna be that weak again, I need to stay strong. If the world collapses again, I ain’t gonna watch any more children be slaughtered.”
You rose a hand from his and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him close to your chest. He sighed into you as your lips rested on his forehead, your other hand around his shoulders.
“As long as I’m breathing, that’ll never happen again.” You whisper, holding him tight against you.
His own hands wrapped around your back, holding you just as tight.
“Yeah, I know Chosen One . I know.”