Batting Cages (Any and all)

[Arlen]

Arlen's massive frame stood stoikly in the batting cages. He held a steel bat that looked more suited to a child when in his hands, although he was told this was regulation size and that he would have to make do. It was clear the giangantic student was unsure of himself in this situation. The only experience he'd had with baseball up to this point was what he had caught on T.V. although this gave him a rough idea on how to stand and how to weild the bat, it did not give him the hands on experience to feel comfortable with the situation. In an attempt to ease himself into the feel he took a few practice swings, with each swing his raw power shone through the sound of the bat ripping through the air enough to turn a few heads, the low grunt emitted from Arlen at the end of the swing turning more heads than the noise of the bat itself.

Taking a few breaths Arelen adjusted his feet, this time his practice swings were slow and methodical. He was testing the comfort of his stance. Now he adjusted the grip on his bat and took a few more of those mighty swings. This time his action was a lot smoother, much more comfortable. This was clearly evident by the borad smile on the big mans lips. He felt ready...

Fwooosshhhhh........

Clank.....

"God...damn"

Arlen was startled by the speed of the ball as it was propelled by him, it had always looked slower on T.V. The ball was literally a blur to the big mans eyes. As a result he had swung and hit nothing, the clank was the sound of the ball as it crashed into the cage behind him. Adjusting his footing again and looking with a little more purpose toward the machine that 'pitched' the ball Arlen prepared himself. 'Concerntrate Arlen....hit the bloody ball....'

Fwoossshhhhhh......

Clank.....

"Ah for....."

Arlen cut his curse short, he looked at the bat and then to the pitching machine. If he didn't hit one soon he would simply take the bat to the machine. This thought made the giant smile and he even laughed to himself. Although he found comfort in the thought of doing such a thing he wasn't really the type of person who would do it. Nor was he the type of person to quit. With this thought in mind Arlen took his stance again. He had a few hours to kill....in thos few hours he was determined to atleast graze a ball.

[bane]

"Keep your eye on the ball."

A boy of about 16 leaned against the chain-link with his finger culred into the mesh of the metal.

"It's the stereotypical advice, I know, but if you're focusing on your target, then your arms will automatically know where to go. It's instinct. And don't worry so much about the form of your swing as you're swinging. Just keep your elbows up, and watch the pitch. Your body will do the rest."

Bane's eyes weren't on the batter, but rather on the machine. He'd seen the coach tampering with its settings during lunch, so he wasn't surprised that the big guy hadn't been able to hit the target yet.

~He's still got one strike left though...~

[Arlen]

Arlen didn't look back to see who was giving him the advice, He simply took note of the words spoken. Instead of his concerntration being focused soley on his stance and the bat he chose to simply wait patiently for the ball to be pitched. This time he would keep his eye on the ball, this time he would hit the ball. This was what he told himself at least. Surely enough the ball came at him with the same amount of force as it had done previously, this time Arlen watched and waited before swinging. Something inside him, almost insinctual called out 'now' Arlen followed this instinct and with all the brute force his bulging muscles could offer he swung for the ball. The two previous swings all that could be heard was the sound of the bat cutting through the air, this time however the bat and ball collided. A loud crack resounded and the ball Arlen had struck felt like it would have gone into orbit if it wasn't for the mesh put in place to stop the balls. Arlen smiled broadly...the advice worked...he hit the ball. His thrid attempt ever at baseball, and he actually hit the ball. Propping the bat proudly on his shoulder Arlen hit the switch to stop the machine pitching. Now he turned around to look at the student who had offered him the advice.

"Thanks a lot mate, seems your advice worked a charm.."

Arlen's Irish accent laced his words as he spoke. His voice although deep and some what gravelly held a friendly tone as he adressed the student who was at this point propping himself up on the chain link fence.

"I take it your a ball player?"

[bane]

Nah. I just enjoy hitting things. Baseball is one of many ways to satisfy that need, but I prefer a good boken duel to school sports any day.

Bane untangled his fingers from the wire of the fence and opened the door to the neighboring batting cage, grabbing a spare helmet and bat that were leaning next to its entrance. The heavy wood of the bat felt good against his skin. It brought back some fun memories of messing around with the hardwood practice swords that his cousin owned. He pressed the button with the end of his bat and took his stance next to the plate. His eyes fixed onto the machine as it began to whir.

I've lately been working on a theory that there's nothing more theraputic than beating something with a blunt instrument.

*Crack!*

Between the physical exertion of putting that much effort into the swing-

*Whiff*

-The abrasive shockwave that runs up your arm when you connect-

*Crack!*

-And the satisfying noise, there's a lot of inner tension and stress released. I'm Bane, by th-

*Bonk!*

The machine, which Bane had taken his eyes off of momentarily as he introduced himself, had spit a ball directly at his head. It glanced off his helmet harmlessly, but the sound made him jump quite a bit, and he flinched physically at the impact. He quickly shut the machine off again, but not before the next ball came whizzing past his face.

Lovely. It isn't just the teachers anymore. The EQUIPMENT has started turning against us now.

The metal gate creaked shut noisily behind him as he put the bat and helmet back on the ground.

What was I saying again?

[Arlen]

Arlen stood quietly as he watched the smaller youth take a few swings in the batting cage adjacent to his. It appeared to Arlen that the stranger was much more accustomed to swinging the bat than Arlen was. However part way through his set of swings the young man went against his own advice and took his eye from the machine. It seemed that he had gotten into the conversation a little to much...Surely enough the machine he was batting against would punish him for this lapse in concerntration. A loud Bonk, resounded and Arlen watched as a ball glanced off Bane's helmet. Arlen's eyebrows raised in surprise, like bane he hadn't expected anything like that to happen. Fortunately the equipment did its job and Bane rather than being out cold seemed to recover perfectly well from the shock. The only damage caused was simply taking him from his train of thought.

"You were introducing yourself...and describing the pleasures of beating things with blunt objects."

Arlen offered his reply in a casual tone. Like bane he placed his bat and his helmet down. Taking a step out of the cages he stretched his muscular arms above his head before letting them drop back to his sides. During this brief pause Arlen realised he hadn't introduced himself.

"I'm Arlen.."

[bane]

Good to meet you, Arlen.

Bane's hand, no longer occupied by a bat, reached toward his newly met schoolmate as a friendly smile spread across his face. He glanced briefly over the arm that belonged to the hand he had reached for.

If you don't mind me saying, it seems fairly certain that you didn't get those muscles from swinging a bat. Mind if I ask you what activity earned you such accomplished muscular shape?

Such a question is rather pointless in a school like Hircine. Much like Johnny Cash's hit song A Boy Named Sue, you 'hafta get tough or die.' However, Bane liked to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was, after all, a little rude to go around asking if someone's been in any good beat-downs recently. Even so though, most of the pointless violence was caused by a small minority of students, so even the toughest looking kids are usually relatively peaceful by nature.

He seems nice enough though. And even if he has been in his share of fights it doesn't mean he's not a decent human being. Lord knows I've had to defend myself a few dozen times.

[Arlen]

"Aye, Likewise."

Arlen took the hand that was offered to him in a firm grip. His cousins words echoed in his mind as he took the young mans hand. 'Always give a firm grip, just don't crush their hand.' Arlen noticed that banes grip was somewhat stronger than the average grip, however like Arlen it seemed he had the etiquette not to try and crush his hand. Releasing the grip after a brief handshake Arlen allowed his arms to rest once more at his side.

'If you don't mind me saying, it seems fairly certain that you didn't get those muscles from swinging a bat. Mind if I ask you what activity earned you such accomplished muscular shape?'

Arlen was unsure how to reply at first, all his young life he had dedicated himself to sports and fitness. That and genetics, after all there was only so much you could do for the body especially for one so young. Arlen was what a few of the people in his local gym called naturally gifted. Then there was the childhood spent with the cousin whom he nigh on idolised and tried to emulate in every way as he grew up. Arlen shared his cousins drive, genetics and interests in self improvement. With a slow shrug of his shoulders Arlen would look back toward bane and offer a reply.

"Not one activity mate. I've always enjoyed lifting weights, wrestling and rugby. I guess I got lucky though...I just have good genetics. I'm sure there are others in this school who train just as hard as I do, they just don't have the natural ability for size and strength that I have."

[bane]

Good genetics, huh?

I have to admit I wasn't expecting that response. With the reputation this school gets it's too easy to assume that every big kid around is a fighter. However, I find it a little hard to believe that combat didn't have SOMEthing to do with your athletic tallent.

Bane was partial to sparring. His favorite way to get to know people was through their movements, and there's nothing that tests your mind like forced improvising in combat. He wasn't one to cause serious damage though. It was the same for him as playing baseball or football to other students.

I hope I'm not being too foreward, but my favorite means of introduction is through sparring. It tells me so much more than a few hours of forced small-talk could ever say. Would you object to me testing your 'genetics?'

His face was still as well-meaning and friendly as before, but now a hint of mischeviousness was dancing in the corners of his eyes. He had no malicious intentions. It was just the unruly excitement that Bane always felt when squaring off with a good opponent.