116. [Video/Action for Lake of Rage]

[foolishwren]

<sub>[It's been a few weeks since Heather's terse text post regarding her father-- hardly the longest period of time she's gone in between network posts, but she certainly hasn't been overly talkative.]

[When the video comes on though, it's partially obscured by a fuzzy blue blob-- the 'Gear has been placed on a clothes rack, pointed to view the next aisle over. Specifically, it's showing the back of a shaggy brown head. Henry Townshend, taciturn photography and unsuspecting victim, is slowly picking his way through a rack of swim trunks.]

[Amid the jangling of clothes-hangers, something appears in the corner of the screen.]

[That something is a pair of hands, and between them-- stretched like a rubber band-- is a Speedo.]

[There is a pregnant pause, probably for the sake of letting the network audience take it all in.]








[Then the hands let it fly.]


[Henry lets out a howl and claps a hand to his head as the speedo bounces off of it with a rubbery twang.]</sub>


HEATHER!!


_{[The camera jostles and the feed ends.]}

Comments

[Action]

[foolishwren]

_{[After everything Snake and Ironhide had taught her, she really should have seen that coming. Maybe she's just rusty. It's been... awhile, after all.]}

--Hey, you didn't say we were doing two arms!

_{[She removes one hand from the first she'd been pushing on and starts to shove on the other.]}

[rocketralph]

And neither will anybody who decides you need a good punch in the nose!

_{[Ralph pushes both fists against her hands and starts walking forwards.]}

C'mon, gimmi what for! I can take it!

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Well if they're gonna play it THAT way...]

[Doing a sort of hop in place to re-gain her traction on the ground, Heather heaves against his hands to throw them to the sides.]

[And then, because inertia's in effect and who's she to fight against it, charges forward with a swinging fist.]</sub>

RAAAAGH!

[rocketralph]

<sub>[Ralph lets her shove his hands aside and get some punches in--not out of pity--but in order to see if she really would give it all she had. Sparring was tough sometimes because you did want to hurt your partner but at the same time you didn't because it was sparring.]

[Conclusion: Heather's bony little fists hurt. But she needed to get tougher.]</sub>

Oh, come on! You call that a punch!

_{[He boxed her aside like a lion shooing a troublesome cub.]}

[foolishwren]

Your MOM'S a punch!

<sub>[... Because that makes sense.]

[She goes in again, harder.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

Hey, hey, this is hand to hand training! Focus on your fists, not my mom. My mom's a nice lady, you oughtta be ashamed of yourself.

_{[He boxes her shoulder.]}

[foolishwren]

If it's somethin' so shameful, why're you teaching me how to do it?

_{[She pounds another punch into his chest, ignoring the box to her shoulder-- although that did kind of hurt, owch.]}

[rocketralph]

_{[That sock gets a surprised grunt out of him. That one's going to give him a bruise.]}

My grandma can hit harder than that!

_{[Ralph, your grandma probably CAN hit harder than that. That's not fair to say.]}

Stop punchin' ribs! You'll break your fingers!

[foolishwren]

_{[She hops back, fists still held aloft, panting slightly.]}

Then where SHOULD I punch?

Tell me and I'll do it.

_{[SHE'LL DO IT GOOD.]}

[rocketralph]

_{[He straightens up as well, letting his fists hang at his sides.]}

If you can, give somebody a good sock in the gut. That oughtta get their face close enough for you to give 'em one in the nose to go with it.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[That's some good thinkin'.]

[She promptly hops forward to do exactly that: give him a sock in the gut.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

_{[He let her. He did not, however, bend down. Instead visibly cringed and his fists unfurled into clawy gestures. It was like getting STABBED! Sega Genesis!]}

Whoof! That--that's the spirit.

[foolishwren]

_{[... Okay, she catches the cringe that time-- steps back, lowers her fists.]}

Hey... you all right?

You don't need to be a punching bag, y'know. Tell me to back off and I will.

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph recovers and barks out a laugh.]}

Gettin' soft already! I knew it!

[foolishwren]

<sub>[....]








[She charges forward again, swinging both fists. ALL RIGHT RALPH IF THAT'S THE WAY YOU WANT IT.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph swings out his hands again to block Heather's Fury Swipes but he's not fast enough and she breaks through the gates so to speak. And those little fists hurt!]}

Hngg!

_{[Ralph retreats backwards a step or two and throws a punch of his own at Heather's own middle. Not hard enough to do damage but hard enough to knock her back to her spot.]</sub.}

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Undamaging or no, his fist is still the size of a small roast turkey.]

[Heather's breath leaves her in a whoosh and she stumbles back several steps, clapping a hand to her stomach and wheezing slightly.]

[She... totally should have been ready for that. But she didn't exhale quick enough.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph dusts his hands off and shoots her a grin.]}

Not bad! Not bad! With a little practice on something that can't punch you back, you'll be on your way in no time!

[foolishwren]

_{[Straightening up, she rubs her gut with a wince.]}

Jeez. Your hands are like shovels.

[rocketralph]

_{[He flexes his fingers and puffs out a laugh.]}

If you can keep up yours will be too.