Mako Mori (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redshoerevenge) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-09-03 01:44 pm
redshoerevenge) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-09-03 01:44 pm
Entry tags:
Test Run: One | Spin Them Jaeger Tracks Up
WHO:Mako Mori & YOU
WHERE: De Chima; Somewhere industrial/abandoned, metal/concrete, extremely minimal chance for civilian injury
WHEN: SEPT 3; AFTERNOON
WHAT: Mako, punching bag, workout, bag & wall warfare
WARNINGS: Loud Music, building wall trashing, tiny flying brick Mako
Mako taped up her wrists and knuckles after removing her shoes and socks, moving to survey the gym mat she'd found somewhere questionable and laid down a few days ago. With it she'd found an equally well used punching bag that had most of its sand leaked out and a busted seam. It'd taken her awhile to repair it, but it was full of sand now and mended. It was the world's shittiest, ghetto training area, but it'd do her her needs. Metal walls, reinforced concrete, enough load bearing points that if something went wrong the rest of the admittedly wrecked building would still stand.
With a clap of her hands and a few shoulder rolls as she she her muscles out, she lifted a pipe length she'd scouted out the previous day that was just about the right length, and dialed up some music, stepped onto the mat, and bowed to an invisible opponent. The first kata was simple, a warm up she had learned as a child. Simple thrusts, stretches, so easy it didn't wind her at all. Jaeger Bushido katas were a more complicated, but she knew all fifty-two of them second nature and she launched into them with no uncertain enthusiasm. Mako was quick, light on her feet, snapping through the routines as easily as she ever had. The beat of the music set the tempo and she blended one kata into another, changed them up, rotated and jabbed, slid and moved until the music faded and she sheathed her pipe like a sword. Fully engaged in the moment, the only way she knew she had company was when she finally looked up.
WHERE: De Chima; Somewhere industrial/abandoned, metal/concrete, extremely minimal chance for civilian injury
WHEN: SEPT 3; AFTERNOON
WHAT: Mako, punching bag, workout, bag & wall warfare
WARNINGS: Loud Music, building wall trashing, tiny flying brick Mako
Mako taped up her wrists and knuckles after removing her shoes and socks, moving to survey the gym mat she'd found somewhere questionable and laid down a few days ago. With it she'd found an equally well used punching bag that had most of its sand leaked out and a busted seam. It'd taken her awhile to repair it, but it was full of sand now and mended. It was the world's shittiest, ghetto training area, but it'd do her her needs. Metal walls, reinforced concrete, enough load bearing points that if something went wrong the rest of the admittedly wrecked building would still stand.
With a clap of her hands and a few shoulder rolls as she she her muscles out, she lifted a pipe length she'd scouted out the previous day that was just about the right length, and dialed up some music, stepped onto the mat, and bowed to an invisible opponent. The first kata was simple, a warm up she had learned as a child. Simple thrusts, stretches, so easy it didn't wind her at all. Jaeger Bushido katas were a more complicated, but she knew all fifty-two of them second nature and she launched into them with no uncertain enthusiasm. Mako was quick, light on her feet, snapping through the routines as easily as she ever had. The beat of the music set the tempo and she blended one kata into another, changed them up, rotated and jabbed, slid and moved until the music faded and she sheathed her pipe like a sword. Fully engaged in the moment, the only way she knew she had company was when she finally looked up.