smash_logs | Anger management.

Entry tags:

Anger management.

Who: Pulseman and Pit
What: Bonding between human-like creatures.
Where: In the stadium
When: Backdated toooooo May 12th-ish (subject to change?)
Warnings: Fighting? Sandbag abuse?? idk

Stemming from the sensation of being defeated and the anxiety that he wasn't doing anyone any good, there was a whole lot of stress weighing down on this little fellow, and he needed some time to himself to let it all out. Not wanting to cause any damage to the school's network, he opted for the stadium area, where he hoped he would find something suitable for releasing his pent-up frustrations. And there he found it, in the form of one of the many Sandbags set up for students to practice with.

Looking at the Sandbag gave him pause. He was certain that this object was meant to take damage and offer resistance, like a regular punching bag... But why did it have to have such expressive eyes? Pulse almost didn't want to strike it. Was it sentient? Wouldn't it object to being hit? But then, if it could think for itself, why would it be here if for no other reason than that it didn't mind being used as a practice dummy? Satisfied at having answered his own question, Pulse stepped back, though the big eyes on the bag still concerned him a little.

There was ample space in the room for him to utilize his abilities; he started off by building a charge and focusing it into his arm, bringing it up close to his chest. He attacked by swinging his arm out in a wide sweep away from his body, loosing off the concentrated energy so that it formed a bolt of ball lightning, which then flew in a straight path toward the Sandbag. He had fired this bolt at an angle so that it wouldn't cause much damage to the other end of the room after passing through the obstacle, but to his surprise, the Sandbag had absorbed his attack completely.

He built up another charge and flung it at the Sandbag, watching as it failed to go through. As though trying to catch it off guard, he suddenly darted a good distance to one side, then blasted forward in his Volteccer form, bouncing off the Sandbag, which didn't seem to react at all. In a flash, Pulse returned to normal form, landing on his feet, then dashed toward the Sandbag and unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks into it, each one thudding into the white fabric with a dull sound, barely budging it.

This didn't sit very well with Pulse. With all he was doing, he didn't appear to be affecting the Sandbag at all. Even attacks he used which normally caused objects to explode had zero effect on it.

With an anguished roar, he finally tried wrapping his skinny arms around the Sandbag in an attempt to suplex it into the floor mat. The end result was him laying sprawled on the floor, pinned underneath the Sandbag. A muffled choke could be heard.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Never fear, Pulse! An angel is here!

It might have seemed out of nowhere, but in truth, Pit had been watching the C-Life send attacks at Sandbag from one of the stadium entrances. He'd been entranced by the charged-up moves and came to a halt just to get a sneak peek. When the sack of sand pinned Pulse to the ground, he decided to dash over and lend him a hand. Save him some trouble.

"Need a little help?" he prompted with a short laugh, kneeling in close to shove the adorable punching bag off.

"Ugh..."

Pulse felt the weight pushed off of him, and turned his head to look. He immediately sat up straight at the sight of the winged human-like fellow kneeling next to him.

"O-oh! Sir! I'm s-sorry... I didn't know there was anyone in here."

"Hey, hey! It's no big deal, seriously. Also, I teeeechnically wasn't even in here yet," he replied, extending a hand to help pull him to his feet. "I saw your spill just before I came in."

"Oh, you... you saw that, then."

Pulse looked at the hand offered to him, remembering what it meant, and gladly took it. His other hand reached up to prod at a space underneath the visor, at the edge of his eye, as though dabbing away tears.

"Either this Sandbag is extremely resilient, or I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I should admit that I haven't had much practice since I came here, though..."

Pit's eyes softened sympathetically. He didn't say anything for a few beats, pausing to let the feelings Pulse must be experiencing sink in. All too well he knew what it felt like to come up short every time during harsh training sessions, never meeting up to expectations personal or otherwise. Even when he believed fiercely in himself, he was always just a puny little weakling. But that was a long time ago, and even though stints of doubt in his abilities returned every once in a while, Pit knew that with determination and overcoming huge obstacles fearlessly, he could get much stronger.

"Sandbag does take a lot of hits," reassured the angel as he walked over to the white cylindrical lump with eyes and patted it with familiarity. "He's built to withstand all kinds of attacks. Just because you didn't send him flying doesn't mean you're not strong."

Pulse looked at the Sandbag. So it was some kind of person, or being, in a sense, the way the winged fellow spoke about it.

"Well, when I use my powers on something, it usually breaks up or explodes..."

He frowned.

"But I don't really want to destroy it... I'm not sure what I was thinking. I remember the reason I had for coming in here was that I needed to break something. But I feel like I only broke myself."

Pit stared at him for a moment, like what Pulse said was absurd. "But that's the point! Sandbag is meant to be pulverized. Managing to destroy it should be considered a job well done." He switched his sights over to Sandbag, which remained as vegetative and slumped over as ever, despite those cute little eyes. A hand of his migrated to his hip as he tried to think, the blade he brought with him for practice dangling in the other hand.

"Normally Sandbags get knocked around all over the place when you slam into them. Like this!" He bolted for his white floppy target and slashed at it in one firm stroke. Sandbag got knocked back a few feet.

"Wah!"

While he was still a little confused by what Pit said, the action took him by surprise. He watched the Sandbag get knocked away, staring at it for a moment, then turned his attention back on Pit. He wondered for a moment if perhaps the reason why his attacks weren't having much effect was because that he wasn't channeling his energy through a weapon, but then he never really felt like he was suited for a weapon when he was just as dangerous without one.

"H-how did you get it to move?"

"Easy! I just used force," he replied like it was no sweat. "I don't know why it's not budging for you. Those attacks you launched looked like they should pack a punch." Especially that charged lightning assault he admired.

"Because you used force..."

He was silent for a moment, staring at the Sandbag, doing calculations in his head. After a while, he balled one of his hands into a fist and looked down at it.

"But then, I wasn't really focused, either... I was mostly just... angry."

He turned his attention back on the Sandbag, shifting his body into a ready position, although with one hand out in front and the other hand, still a fist, being pulled back with his arm, not unlike an archer preparing to fire. His fist began to hum slightly as he focused his internal charge into it.

With a kiai, he blasted toward the Sandbag, firing his charged fist forward with a snap and striking the Sandbag with all the force he could muster in his little body, sore as it was from his previous attempt.

Oh man that was gonna be so awesome he was gonna punch it into the far-off wall or something bam pow wham he shoots he scores...

...he doesn't score. The punching bag sort of scoots a measly foot or so.

Dang. Maybe he was weaker than he thought. ...But he didn't want to tell him that. How could such cool moves do so little to move it?

"Hey, you got somewhere!" he cheered, still thankful for at least that. "Maybe that focus did something for you."

But why was he angry in the first place? That question finally settled into Pit's brain and compelled him to ask. "Though I have to wonder. What made you so angry before?"

"Ugh..."

It was obvious that Pulse was the type to be very self-critical. Seeing the short distance he had managed to knock the Sandbag, he looked away from both Pit and the Sandbag in disgust.

He flinched slightly from surprise when Pit cheered. Already embarrassed at his weakness, it felt a little patronizing, being commented on for his focus. He knew he could have been more focused. He knew he could be much stronger than he was. He didn't know why he was coming up so short now.

He turned his attention back to Pit, though, when the question was posed to him.

"I... I'm not sure, anymore. I feel like I would have a reason now, but... I felt so much rage. I felt... I felt useless. I felt like I wasn't doing anyone any good. ...I haven't had much success lately in protecting my friends."

Pit frowned, dropping any vigor in his posture. He could easily envision Pulse's feelings, remembering the weak little angel who couldn't fly like the rest- that was still him, wasn't it? What should he say to comfort him? What did other people tell him whenever he was down on himself about not being strong enough for other people? It wasn't coming to him. But he wasn't giving up, and saying something was worth a shot.

"We all have our failures every now and then. You should see my hall of shame. Buuuut on second thought, I'd rather you not, since they're pretty embarrassing." Realizing he was rambling about himself, he shook it off to say something else. "But if it bothers you right now, how about we do a little bit of practice together? We can try seeing what's up and what we can do to fix you out of your slump. I want you to feel more confident about protecting your friends."

"I... suppose..."

But then, that's what he came here for, wasn't it? To practice, to get stronger, so that he could better protect his world back home? And for him to be able to look out for any of his friends here at least, where there were so many strange beings like him, he was going to have to get much, much more powerful than he was now.

It reminded him of something Riche said before he left... which left him wondering, how does it make any sense to attempt to apply lubricant to an electrical event, barely considered a noun? But she smiled her little knowing smile, and kissed him on the helmet, and bade him good luck on his studies. Still, if he could remember it again once he came within proximity of a research tool, he was going to have to find out what "greased lightning" meant.

"...Yes. I would like to try that."

His disposition didn't lighten up much, though he did straighten up and raise his head, looking toward Pit.

"What kind of practice do you suggest?"

"Hmmm..." Pit brought up his hand to his chin and bored his eyes into the ground for a quick thinking-pose. "There's a lot we could do... Hey, I know!" His hand flew away from his face with a snap of his fingers, eyes bright with the ideas gleaming in his brain. "Why don't we have you knock around progressively bigger obstacles? We start off small, like a soccer ball or something, then keep thinking bigger until we find the thing that gives you the most trouble and work our way up from that? Feel like beating stuff up?"

Pulse flinched slightly from the enthusiasm, but he considered Pit's proposal.

"That... That might work..."

Surely he was strong enough to send one of this world's soccer balls flying with one of his high-power kicks, provided he didn't destroy it.

"As long as it doesn't... have eyes."

He glanced back at the Sandbag.

"All right! No eyes. We can try that." Flashing a quick thumbs-up before he was off, Pit darted away from Pulse to run over to the control panels and press a few buttons. Suddenly, soccer balls dropped out of the sky.

"These soccer balls are special!" he yelled with megaphone hands across the field. "If you hit it decently enough, it will catch fire and launch in whatever direction you kick it! The harder you strike it, the further and faster it will launch!" There was a soccer ball about ten feet away from him, which he used as a demonstration. Pit dashed up to the ball and swiped at it with his Burst Blade, setting it aflame and sending it a short distance before it fizzled out.

Oh, in the name of everything that was good and 16-bit. There were objects falling from the sky. Pulse froze up for a moment, trying to process the situation. It was then that he saw Pit swinging his sword at one of the objects and sending it flying away in a fireball.

It was a soccer ball that burst into flames when you hit it. That much he knew. Not anything like the soccer balls in his world, not at all.

He silently sought out one of the nearby balls, a good enough distance away that he could build up some speed on charging toward it. He dashed, electric sparks jumping from his armor; moving into proper position in mid-dash, he chambered one leg, then swung it out in a hard forward kick, striking the ball.

For a moment, he thought the ball had exploded, which he would have halfway expected to happen. He realized a moment later that he had knocked it clear to the other end of the room.

"...Huh."

All went silent for a moment, as though serving for build-up. Then, the angelic boy broke into a loud standing O.

"Yeah-heaaaaah! You're packing a lot of leg power!" he cried. "Seriously, that was nice! You could have sent someone flying off the stage if they got hit by that."

"St-stage?"

Oh, right... Wait... No.

"What is the stage for?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anger management.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject