11033/A Big Step Into Little Russia

A Big Step Into Little Russia
Date of Scene:	10 February 2020
Location:	Salem Center, Westchester County
Synopsis:	In continuing the search for a location for her future dojo, Riana meets Piotr, and finally begins to test the limits of her gifts. A new friendship is made!
Cast of Characters:	Colossus, Wild Rose

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Colossus has posed:
    Despite the many languages spoken throughout the world, there is one that is almost universal. It's evident throughout Little Odessa when the people visit and wander through. Certainly they are at times speaking a mishmash of Russian and Ukrainian, as well as even some Hungarian at times. Invectives are hurled, sharp words, but despite not knowing what the hurled insults mean a student of humanity can pick up on the body language of those there.
    Such as when Old Hoshana, 83 years old and apparently shrieking sharp words to the young men passing by her. One can read in her manner pride, strength of character, conviction. Even as she decries the youth of today for slothfulness. And when those youths walk past her they hunch their shoulders and murmur quiet words in return, clearly deferring to an ancient of her age.
    Such a phenomenon carries through into the stores that rest along the sides of the streets, where customers walk past the many stalls and hodge podge merchant areas. Past the holes in the wall that provide at least slightly less of a chance of being ripped off. So few storefronts that might serve as a place for a dojo or a school.
    But then there's Nevinsky's gym. It's there when she turns a corner, a closed off part of a warehouse that's been converted some long time ago into a place of soaped over windows and converted work floors. Inside there are serious men, dour of visage as they set their pace with heavy efforts on the weights therein. It's a place rich with a long past, old boxing and wrestling posters prominent on the walls. And it has that age old scent of many athletes having worked and bled and sweated there.
    And there, across the distance, some very severe looking men are apparently each trying to strain and strive and throw their opponents down onto the mats as they seek a winner.

Wild Rose has posed:
     The days off Riana had were a bit more frequent, what with the holiday season over and done. The bulk of the work of settling into her new home in Bushwick was long since taken care of, with boxes unpacked, cherished items put in places of honor, furniture and housewares all in their proper place. The search for a potential location for her dream to take root could resume.

     The first attempt had brought something very precious into the life of the titian-haired woman who was even now approaching the gym, with what appeared a walking staff in hand. But what would today bring?

     Today, Riana was in a pair of stonewashed blue jeans that had perhaps seen a lot of wear, black sneakers, and a baggy green hoodie for warmth against the winter's chill. The staff itself bore woodburned markings on either end, elaborate Celtic knotwork that marked it as a cherished item. It had been a frustrating search, and the gym offered something familiar, despite the language barrier. She ducked inside, seeking shelter from winter's icy touch, and the burn of frustration that did not sit at all well.

Colossus has posed:
    Inside the eyes were unfriendly. Grim and severe as their former country is known. Though there are no sharp words or severe comments sent her way. Only silence, which in some ways was a step above many other gyms she may well have been in. The large men work on the free wights, each urging the other on as they spot for them. Across the way the men on the padded mats continue to flip their opponents to the ground heavily and sharply, low grunts are heard.
    But then finally a sharp voice is lifted in her direction. A staggeringly well developed old man whose features look in their eighties but the rest of him is muscular. He growls in a thickly accented tone, "You. You pay before you leave. Twenty dollars for two hours. Da?"
    A glance his way and she likely would see him there, seated behind his desk against the wall, a wisp of grey smoke wending its way upwards from the tip of his cigar that he nurses with more care than he probably offers his children. His grey eyes meet hers, he grunts, and then takes up his newspaper once again.
    Meanwhile, across the gym floor, she will hear a voice lifted. "I am telling you. You go into a fight, you want to fight someone like Piotr." A short red-headed man seems to be smacking another much taller man in the abdomen. A much taller man who at the least does not have as grim of features as his countrymen. And his voice, when he answers, is more warm and cheerful than the others.
    "I would not be wishing to fight any of you, Vladimir." The way he says that is with a smile even as he lightly thump thumps the shorter man on the shoulder.
    "You see, Piotr is big. But the big ones, they fall quick. No flexibility. Slow. And their knees are fragile. Why I could break his knees right now, and Piotr could do nothing about it."
    To which, the taller man sort of stands there with a resigned look and a settled smile. Though he does not appear inclined to argue.

Wild Rose has posed:
     If there was one language that was universal, it was money. Whatever form it took, whether through barter, coins, or paper chits, the principle was always the same through the ages. Riana nods once to the old man behind the desk, her own expression only a touch less than severe, with a slight quirk of her brows. "Of course." She makes her way over to the desk, the butt end of her staff thudding softly on the floor in counterpoint to her steps. The language is spoken, the universal passcode given--bearing the face of Andrew Jackson, of course--and she inclines her head in silent thanks.

     She sheds the baggy green hoodie to reveal a plain white t-shirt beneath, keeping the outerwear draped over her left arm for the moment. At least she would be more comfortable when she began to warm up.

     However, Fate had something different in store.

     The unfamiliar voices catch her ear, each word as clear as a bell to her. She makes her way over, keeping a respectful distance as she observes the exchange. It was difficult to not smile, with just one corner of her lips quirking upwards. It would be interesting to see how this exchange played out.

Colossus has posed:
    The redheaded man is playing to the crowd of Russians. And if Riana is aware of some of the significance of the tattoos that some of those men have, she might well be able to tell they are rough customers with some who have been in prison for robbery, theft, or worse. Yet all of those men look on intently, watching what this 'instructor' has to say even as the one called Piotr seems to simply stand there, allowing the casual condescension to be aimed his way.
    "You for for the knees, or the balls. Here, and here." And as he says this he lashes out with a side kick, then a claw strike, each stopping short of the target as he explains. "You strike quickly, the first person to decide that they are having a fight is usually the one that wins. Strike first, do not allow them to realize they are in danger. Like so!"
    And the life time martial artist, Riana may well sense what is coming as the man fires a sharp elbow /hard/ into the tall Russian's abdomen. And for a moment there is a delay, then a /whuf/ of air as Piotr seems to exhale and lean forward a bit, displeased perhaps. But not too horribly inconvenienced. Though he smiles and says.
    "I... shall be collecting the towels. Find me if you need of me, yes?"
    And with that he turns, starting to walk away. Only for the instructor to grimace.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Something about that entire exchange just made Riana smile more openly now. If that 'instructor' had the sense to listen to his own words, he might be a bit more wary of this... Piotr. It was often the quiet before the storm that signaled the greatest danger--and Piotr had shown just that. She leans on her staff as she watches, her eyes darting between the fiery-haired instructor, and Piotr, taking in the whole thing quietly. To interfere would perhaps not be wise, not where she was but a guest.

     However, as Piotr was turning to walk away, she offers in a low tone, "He is right in not allowing an opponent to know they are in danger. But he would also be wise to remember that the first strike does not necessarily determine the last."

Colossus has posed:
    Her words catch his attention for a moment and the tall Russian pauses to give her a small smile. His eyebrows lift as if to say something else, but whatever he was about to impart never makes it past his lips as she'll catch sight of the redhead eying not just her but Piotr as well.
    "Rasputin!" The instructor shouts.
    "Piotr turns to look. And that is when the man strikes.
    Riana might read it quickly, her sense of a fight and conflict keyed up rather well from her training in the past. Yet with her talent level she might well catch Piotr as well and realize that he seems at ease with whatever is happening.
    There is the crunch of mat fabric under the feet of the man as he /charges/ toward Piotr with only that uttered warning. His arms reaching out as he tries to take Colossus down hard with a mid-level tackle, trying to crash his whole body weight there and take him to the mats. A technique from the MMA that she might well be familiar with.
    But the counter comes almost as quick as Piotr slides his feet back along the mats as his arms catch the instructors shoulders and /pushes/ the man to the ground, slamming him face first into the mats and then abruptly seizing the superior position above, digging his knee in the man's back. And almost as quick as that, the redhead is subdued with a hand upon the back of his neck and Piotr saying simply, "I must get the towels, Oleg. Please." As if asking for the salt to be passed across the table.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Riana shakes her head as she watches the take-down, sliding back out of the way. Oh yes. Piotr had this one covered. It was not a technique she herself used, having mostly studied a different style, but she could see its effectiveness. If he were to glance her way, he could see her gaze a bit more intense than before, one brow lofted as she studied his stance and judicious application of force.

     It was a level of restraint she herself knew all too well. Her other brow quirks, and she looks at Piotr with a new level of respect. Someone who had not only strength, but the wisdom to know when -not- to use it was both someone to respect--and perhaps be wary of.

     "Very nicely done, sir. What style have you studied?" The query is directed at Piotr, with a nod of respect besides.

Colossus has posed:
    Underneath him the redhead scrambles and scowls, though Piotr takes no steps to capitalize on his position. He just restrains the man, and murmurs quietly. "I have no ill will, Oleg. Please." Asking so politely. So it is only when the man stops struggling that he allows the redhead back up who grimaces and pushes away, as if trying to get Piotr to back off but only serves to push himself further back. Then he turns to the rough men who had been looking on, and some of them are smiling. Though most seem to be trying to hide it.
    "Class is dismissed, you commie bastards." And the instructor steps off, scowling.
    It leaves Piotr there with Riana for now, though there is still the sound of the weights clanking against each other, metal upon metal as the bodybuilders continue their focus. It only mildly interferes in their conversation as the tall Russian gains his feet fully.
    "Who me?" There's a shake of his head, "I have not trained." For a moment she might imagine he was going to let that hang there. But then he makes an accommodation for the truth by adding. "Formally. Only with friends. Family. Though some of them. They are very good."
    Then his smile meets his eyes as he looks to her and gestures to the side, "I must collect the dirty towels. It is not glamorous, but must be done." Perhaps giving her an out if she wishes for it. He starts to move to do that job, however.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Nodding with understanding, Riana just smiles at Piotr, pointedly ignoring the irascible instructor and the students to whom he was imparting his wisdom. "The stones at the base of a mountain may not be as pretty as those at the top, yet without them, the mountain couldn't stand." She shifts her staff to her left hand, her grip easy and relaxed. Offering her hand, she inclines her head. "Riana Mackenzie. Pleasure to meet you."

Colossus has posed:
    Those old discarded towels are tossed over one of his broad shoulders, and when she makes an introduction he straightens up from picking them up and accepting her hand with his own large one. It's a gentle grip. Firm. Business-like in that there is a warmth to it, but only three pumps without aggression and then released as he murmurs, "I am Piotr. Piotr Rasputin. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mackenzie."
    His head bobs as he nods to her, then turns and continues to make his slow way along the gym. Occasionally he picks up a towel and tosses it in a nearby hamper with the ones he's already claimed. Sometimes he'll adjust a piece of equipment. And at one point he hefts a fifty pound dumbbell as if it weighed nothing and sets it back on the weight rack.
    "You have a lovely turn of words. Trust I do not say such lightly, though I ever do marvel at others who can communicate so."

Wild Rose has posed:
     Riana's grip is likewise firm, but decidedly in a more restrained sort of way--almost as if she was accustomed to holding back. But on what? The answer might come clear as she turns her focus temporarily to a punching bag. With the good sense and old habit of stretching out before letting loose on any equipment, she takes a strong front stance, and launches a tightly focused punch from her midsection with her right hand, right at the bag.

     Flesh connects with heavy, stuffed leather, chains and metal frame rattling ominously as if from a spirit trapped between one world and the next. Each blow is coupled with a controlled breath outwards, the tenth eliciting a "Yah!" Then it's to the other side, with much the same result. Chains rattle, the bag gains a few new dents, and she has to catch it as it starts swinging back at her. Yet, the counterweight coming her way does not budge her one inch.

     The compliment draws Riana up short, the decidedly smaller woman straightening up and smiling. "You can credit my family and my sensei over the years for that gift. That one was more like my sensei. He loved nature analogies."

Colossus has posed:
    The towels can wait, since assuredly Mr. Nevinsky would be more upset that a customer broke his heavy bag. So Piotr steps around to the back of the bag and when she begins her next set he will brace it with his large frame, his great shoulder pressing in as he hunkers down and exerts pressure such that she now has a steady and hard target to strike at. As she focuses her breathing he'll listen and pay attention, and when she executes that kiyai shout with one of the final strikes he has to brace it all the harder.
    There's a faint furrow of his brow as he tilts his head away, then looks back as he murmurs. "You are very strong, Ms. Mackenzie." There's a tilt of his head as he considers her. And she has likely been looked at by men on other occasions, since she is a beautiful young woman. But his gaze is not one that speaks so to that predatory glance. And more curious as he murmurs, "For a woman built so."
    Likely meaning her small frame.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Riana just peers at Piotr through slightly narrowed eyes for a moment. Had he possibly guessed what she held back from most of the world? Was it at all possible he himself bore similar gifts? And just how far could she trust him? The likelihood of her return here was up in the air for the moment, as she weighed her options.

     Finally, after a lengthy silence--which in of itself was perhaps telling--she simply nods. "Something I recently explained to my kin after almost half a lifetime," she replied, gingerly rubbing her right temple. "Let's just say it was an... interesting discussion."

Colossus has posed:
    "In this day and age it is all too easy to make assumptions about another based upon appearance." Piotr says with a solemnity that is compounded when he adds, "And even more likelihood to be wrong in those assumptions." That said he lightly thumps the bag and gives her a nod while motioning for her to continue should she so wish.
    "But come, show me what it is you are made of, yes?" At that his lip twists upward even as he readies and steadies himself. There is something bright in his blue eyes as he looks to her, and his demeanour is warm and calm as he awaits her strikes.
    And whether or not she continues he will add, "I am told by Mr. Nevinsky that I should talk to the customers more. I should ask them how they are. What they have been up to." The way he says that it's almost as if he is making light of himself.

Wild Rose has posed:
     That warmth and calm was not something Riana was accustomed to, when it came to her gifts. If her message had been received, at least Piotr seemed to be very discreet in his acknowledgement of the fact. "Appearances can be deceiving. Sometimes, that's not such a bad thing." Her lips curl upwards in a smile, seeming perhaps a bit more at ease than she had been just a little while ago. Whatever she could dish out, something told her the big Russian could take it, even welcome the challenge.

     With that, she takes on her front stance again, each successive round of ten punches more powerful than the last. Each left a new dent in the bag, with the dull thud of flesh against leather ringing out.

     However, instead of finishing her set with a final punch, she raises her arms to guard her from the front, and brings her right foot forward and up, in a front kick that might perhaps be enough to even set Piotr back on his heels a bit. "YAH!!!"

Colossus has posed:
    There's a rhythm to her movements and Piotr takes his time to ease into it and hold on as the impacts come. Around the gymnasium some of the other men glance over at the noise of the impacts and then the way the shout resonates around the room when she finishes a series. But it's this final set where she focuses and then fires that final kick that she'll feel the greatest impact into the bag now and Colossus does as well. There's that sensation of it lancing up her leg, then the heavy give of the cushioned plastic against the strike. It's followed by the push back on the man himself behind it that has his balance break, forcing him back with a rush of movement that has him twisting trying to catch it.
    A staggered step, two, and luckily he doesn't hit the ground. But he straightens up and eyes her sidelong with a gauging gaze. "You are full of surprises, Ms. Mackenzie." And perhaps he did pick up on what she said, and how she said it. Yet he will not admit it. At least not here.
    Most men would not have been able to endure such a strike. Most men would have been sent rushing off out of fear or intimidation. But Piotr. He simply dusts off his hands, takes up his place behind the bag again and says. "Continue?"

Wild Rose has posed:
     Perhaps a few of the onlookers in the gym do indeed draw away from Riana's general vicinity as she, a smaller woman, is able to break Piotr's balance. Given his display with the irascible instructor earlier, it seems entirely likely that at least one or two have experienced similar from him, and so give her a wide berth in turn. But in the moment, the redheaded woman doesn't seem to mind or even really care. For once, she didn't have to hold back. She could let fly and test the limits of her strength, to see if she could discover if that ceiling truly existed.

     Maintaining her guard, she shifts her weight to balance on her left foot, unleashing a rapid-fire series of roundhouse kicks, five to a set, with a kiyah at the conclusion of each. Then she shifts to the other side, the same rapid tattoo beaten on the punching bag with her left foot, and the same hearty cry splitting the air.

     The final kick, however, is none of these. There is little warning, little shift to her stance or weight, as she flows right into a spinning back kick, connectiong hard with the bag. "YAH!!" The thud of her sneaker against the bag is even louder than the front kick that had sent Piotr skidding, the impact oddly satisfying.

Colossus has posed:
    The bag jolts and jostles despite being held by the mountain of a man as he steadies it, grimacing with the effort. As that lightning series of impacts land hard he lowers his head and focuses on simply maintaining, pressing in at each impact, harder than some of his companions of the past. There's a small shake of his head as he looks up and meets her gaze, watching that intensity as she focuses and then there's that blurringly fast back kick that when it strikes causes the heavy fabric to give with a faint rip and a tear that causes a /puff/ of dust to burst from the interior.
    This one was still held onto by Piotr, perhaps since the impact wasn't directly into him but in the side. Yet that bag paid the price. "Very impressive." The accented words are given as he holds on and then winces a little at the small cascade of plastic beans that fall from within. "Ah..."
    The Russian pushes away from the bag and straightens up then murmurs, "I should... get this fixed." Duct tape. It fixes the world. "Perhaps you would like to make use of our other facilities, Ms. Mackenzie?" He says this as he steps to the side and starts to move off. But there's a glance spared for her.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Even Riana is stunned as the patter of plastic beads on the mat sounds like heavy rainfall to her ears. Lowering her leg to stand normally, she just stares in shock at the damage she had done. "Mo Dhia..." The color drains from her face, her shoulders rising and falling as she takes several deep, cleansing breaths. "That... is a first." Had she ever truly tested her limits? Or only learned to hold them back? "Maybe that's a good idea. Lead the way."

Colossus has posed:
    There's a tilt of his head and Piotr looks across the gym. One large hand lifts to rub at the back of his neck thoughtfully as he considers the large twenty foot tall room and its many soaped over windows. His gaze flits from place to place. He starts to gesture toward the free weights, but if she were to train there... it would be harder to hide her strength. And she would get little out of it.
    The treadmills? No, that would gain nothing and still somewhat conspicuous. The boxing ring? It would depend on her opponent. Yet this tall man bites his lower lip thoughtfully and he tilts his head toward her. "If you truly seek your limits, perhaps you could return at a later hour when those who might be around to observe would not be some who are..."
    His gaze drifts to the others, and Mr. Nevinsky. "Sooo. Judgmental." And at that he nods toward her.

Wild Rose has posed:
     Riana crosses her arms, thinking for a moment. "My place is in Bushwick," she offers. "Either we'd have to pick another day, or if you knew somewhere I could park it till after hours, that might work." Reaching into her jeans pocket, she withdraws a slightly older but well cared for phone. "How would I be able to reach you again if I had to?"

Colossus has posed:
    There's a moment where Piotr tilts his head in her direction, one eye sort of narrowing a bit as he considers her. Then he looks back around the gym. His hand continues to rub at the back of his neck thoughtfully then he shifts his weight to the other foot as he turns to face the young woman. "If you feel that would be for the best. I can at times understand what it is to be... how you say, dealing with the strange and difficult?"
    That having been said he holds up a finger to her and starts to step away, to that bank of old lockers that rests against the wall where the showers and restrooms are located. He takes a moment to key the combination into the lock and pulls the door open with a metallic clank. That done he produces a cellphone that he thumbs to life with the brush of a touch, then he nods to her. "Here, you can make it... connect?" To share their information.
    And once she's able to produce her own they'll have the two phones link and each will have the number of the other. "Call when you wish, Ms. Mackenzie. Perhaps we can help each other." That said he turns away.