[sb118-khitomer] Lieutenant Charles Matthews - The Way Of The Photonic Fist
Shakeel Hussein
((Gymnasium, Deck 15, USS Khitomer – docked at DS33))
Charles was currently ridiculously focused. Being able to enter some sort of hyperawareness was one of his reasons for training to become a Tactical and Security Officer. It may have been born from the stresses of his life, his anxieties, but he did his best to use it to his advantage, and right now he was doing just that; Matthews had an intense perception of his own feelings, his own physical sensations, and his heightened state of alertness had him ready to act. Soft strip lighting overhead illuminated the padded floor of the sparring ring that he now found himself in, the long shadows flickered and moved as he did, and he could hear the faint hum of the holo-emitter as they worked to project a photonic life-sized holographic instructor just three metres away from him, circling in the opposite direction that Charlie himself was moving in.
As Matthews sidestepped further to the right, his footwork on point, the instructor moved to his left, maintaining his classic Jeet Kune Do stance and Charles mirrored with one of his own. Stopping his movement for just a moment, the Lieutenant pressed the toes of his bare feet into the floor, getting ready to move. His sweat-soaked white t-shirt clung to his muscular frame; his loose black cotton trousers were slowly whispering with movement as his body had come to a stop, and he was sure the digital recreation of his training instructor was attempting to smile. It almost unnerved the flesh and blood human.
Instructor: Remember, Lieutenant, defend your central line. Do not over-extend. Efficiency is your ally.
Charlie responded silently, nodding, attempting to absorb the lesson, and slowly closed the gap. His instructor, in a similar way to how he’d just spoken, tracked Matthews with precision. A part of him thought sparring against a holographic opponent was a little unfair; the computer could compute much more quickly than Charles could think but, on the other hand, improving against something that had such perfect form would only serve to improve the Tactical Officers performance.
Grinning slightly, with his perfect teeth flashing briefly, he surged forward and proceeded with a low feint. The instructor reacted instantly, with one strong, artificial arm sweeping down to parry his move, and the other seemingly poised for a textbook counterpunch. Seeing it coming, Charlie raised his own arm to block the blow before swirling away and creating a slight gap once more.
Instructor: Focus. Anticipate, don’t react.
This time it was the instructor who started an attack, stepping in and launching a crisp three punch combination- jab, cross, hook- with each of them being executed as perfectly as they could be. In fact, so perfect it would have made Bruce Lee proud. Barely having time to think, Matthews shuffled backwards on the balls of his feet, weaving beneath each strike and feeling the photonic knuckles barely miss his temple, the surge of static tingling at his sweaty brow. As Charlie came back up into a fighting stance, a measured jab flicked in his direction and missed his cheek by a matter of inches. Deciding to take the fight back to the collection of bent photons, Matthews swerved outside, responding with a quick counter to the imitation body of the instructor, his sweaty palm landing flat on his chest and pushing him back a metre or two.
Instructor: Good, Lieutenant. Good.
Seemingly spurred on by the audacity that Charles had shown by landing a blow, the hologram suddenly increased its aggression, if it actually had such an emotion, and it swerved towards the Starfleet Officer in an almost mesmerising fashion, moving so fast that he was sure he was going to get hit with the upcoming salvo. Raising his arms instinctively, Matthews blocked the first strike, slipped down beneath another and then countered the third with a sweeping kick to the instructor’s right leg. The two men, one made of solid matter and one made of light, continued on for minutes, both of them entering a dance of attacks, counters and feints; fists blocking blows, legs aiming for each other with deadly precision and more and more sweat dripping out of every pore of Charlie’s aching body.
Starting to lose himself to the rhythm that he found he was now in; Matthews was pulled back out of it by a disadvantage of his hyperawareness. Becoming aware of a presence looming on the edges of the sparring ring, a presence he recognised, Charlie, out of distraction, glanced away, only for a second, but it was only a second that his instructor needed.
Instructor: Tut, tut. Focus, Lieutenant.
Charles turned back to his instructor, his eyes widening as a photonic fist came flashing towards him and a solid right hook struck him firmly on the left of his face, the force of it enough to send him spinning and sprawling to the floor. Landing to the padded surface with a thud and a groan, Matthews frowned and slammed a tightly clenched left hand against the floor out of frustration.
Torado: Response
The Tactical Officer scowled at the Marine.
Charles: You distracted me.
Instructor: There can be distractions, Mister Matthews. You sho---
He shook his head and glanced back with a fierce look burning within his brown eyes.
Charles: Computer, deactivate training instructor.
Torado: Response
Charles turned back around as the Computer beeped in compliance and the instructor, who had one hell of a hook for a being made of light, flickered out of existence.
Charles: I know he is…
Torado: Response
Charles: Why are you here? Ran out of bulkheads to headbutt?
Torado: Response
TAGS/TBC
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Tactical Officer
USS Khitomer NCC-62400
A240012CM1