route_1065 | Tall, blonde, dark and lean

Entry tags:

Tall, blonde, dark and lean

Who: Alex Louis Armstrong (

sculpted) and Carmen Sandiego (

doitrockapella)
Where: Saffron City
When: After 4th wall!
Summary: A fated meeting in Saffron City...what could this lead to?!
Rating: PG at the worst
Log:

Armstrong wasn't exactly sure how it was he'd ended up in this strange new city after that....odd weekend, but that wasn't what was causing him grief; his beautiful gauntlets had been taken once again! After such a brief time together....was their no limit to the games Johto liked to play with them?

At present, he was walking down the street, shirt on but open at the front as he cooled down from a sparring session with his Lucario, who was strolling alongside him. Sighing, Armstrong ran a hand over his brow and looked toward the sky.

"I simply don't understand it, Berli...why give them back if they were just going to be stolen again? It's simply cruel!"

Berli nodded distractedly, more concerned with taking in the sights of Saffron than the dramatic sighs of his trainer. He'd get over it eventually, but his team of Pokemon would be hearing about it for the next week or so.

"Perhaps it is time for me to take a new direction with my training." Armstrong murmured, and Berli turned to him with a sense of dread settling over him. His trainer tended to be almost impossible to keep up with as it stood; what could he possibly-

"I should find myself a human sparring partner!" Armstrong exclaimed, and Berli breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief. That, he could deal with. "But whom?" Armstrong frowned, placing a hand under his chin. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

Shrugging, Berli shook his head. Armstrong sighed again.

"This is simply not my day, Berli! Oh, how will I ever find someone who could match me, Alex Louis Armstrong, in combat?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The good news was, she hadn't ended up lost and disoriented in the middle of nowhere this time, after the strange events of the past weekend finally wore off.

(That was a very good thing, in her opinion. Just because she had a passion for making sure no one else could ever pin down her location didn't mean she enjoyed the experience of not knowing exactly where she was at any given time, herself.)

That was the good news, but like most good news, it came with some bad alongside it — and in this case, the bad was bad enough to throw her for a definite loop. Being off-balance was never something she was fond of, either, but the memories that had remained following the weekend's end were different this time than the last, unusually vivid in places where by all rights they ought to have seemed faded and dull.

She wouldn't run, not this time, but restlessness was something that always came with the unsettled feeling she was currently experiencing now, and that's what had brought her out into the city today, wandering purposefully through the streets and acquainting herself with the new landscape. That was what she needed, really. Sights and sounds and distractions.

...Legal ones.

She was expecting to find something to occupy her attention. She wasn't expecting it to be the phenomenally tall, remarkably burly man lamenting his lack of sparring partners to what looked like a vaguely terrified Lucario. In the pockets of her coat, her fingers twitched, curling lightly inward as she eavesdropped (not that it was particularly difficult to do so) on the announcement of his plight.

The way she felt that day...

(She was rattled like this once before, when she was fifteen years old.)

"Something was stolen from you?" she asked aloud, taking the bold option and walking right over to the man — physically diminutive in comparison, at a mere five feet ten in heels, but making up the difference in sheer force of personality — to hear what he has to say.

(Maybe he'd get his wish. She was reckless like this when she was fifteen, too.)

Armstrong blinked in surprise as the woman in red strode over to him, exuding an air of confidence almost rivaling his own. Berli the Lucario seemed relieved at the distraction, choosing to lean up against the wall of a nearby building while his trainer was occupied. That didn't, however, mean he wasn't alert. There was something....different about this woman, and as much as he liked to roll his eyes at his trainer, he'd rather die than let him get hurt.

Said trainer, however, was obviously far less concerned with the whole affair, nodding solemnly at the woman in answer to her question.

"Alas, it is a long and terribly sad story! When I first arrived here in Johto, the gauntlets I use for battle were taken from me. Just this weekend, however, they were returned to me, except I woke up this morning to find them gone! I know that they were not stolen by a mere thief as I had gone to bed wearing them, my Arcanines sharing the mattress with me. There is simply no way they could have been taken other than by a supernatural force, the very one that brought us here to this lovely yet puzzling world!"

His dramatic story done, Armstrong sighed once more.

"I was merely thinking about possible ways to distract myself from my loss. My apologies if I disturbed you, dear lady."

Admittedly, it was all the talk of stealing that was really commanding her interest, not so much that she was particularly concerned with the man's loss (that is, not any moreso than she would be with anyone else's) as it was the nature of the disappearance. Thefts in general were always a matter of interest for her, and while she might've been inclined to dispute that there was no way someone could've gotten the items away from him — or at least, would take it as a challenge to her own abilities and thereby be bound to try for them herself — the disappearance he was describing wasn't by any means an unusual one. If what she recalled from the past few days was true, she'd had some of her wonderful toys back, and those had up and disappeared with the Monday dawn, too.

Still, he seemed like a polite enough guy, and there was still that nagging feeling of restlessness that she couldn't quite seem to shake...

"It's no disruption. And I'm sure no mere thief could've gotten his hands on them," she ultimately remarked in return, opting for an echo of his own words as a way of assuaging her own competitiveness. She was no mere thief, obviously, so it made for a valid compromise. "But I'm sorry to hear they've gone missing. That seems to be a trend lately."

She extracted one gloved hand from her pocket and extended it for a handshake in greeting, casting only the slightest of wary glances at his rather bulging muscles as she did so.

"As does the search for a distraction, Mr. Armstrong." Aptly named, this guy. And she figured formal introductions weren't precisely necessary when the man had been bellowing his own name into the open air for anyone to hear, anyway. "I'm Carmen Sandiego."

"Ah, as much as I am saddened by your loss, Ms Sandiego, I must admit that I do find it comforting that I am not alone in my grief!"

That hand was clasped firmly, but not to a point where the force of the grip would cause discomfort; Armstrong was aware of his own strength (well, when it mattered, at least, and crushing the poor woman's hand would not be the best way to make a first impression). Crossing his arms over his chest once the greeting was completed, Armstrong looked pleasantly down at Carmen, curiosity in his gaze.

"Tell me; have you had any luck finding a way to distract yourself? I must admit that my initial idea is not proceeding as I had hoped."

"I suspect my search has gone about as well as yours has," she answered, oddly pleased with the careful firmness of the grip. His original remark of "dear lady" had her vaguely curious to see how he might treat a handshake in the first place — and she certainly wouldn't have been having any of it if he'd gone out of his way to treat her as something delicate just because she was wearing heels. A respectable man, a handshake for an equal, good manners, and a certain...something to his demeanor that just seemed to command likeability. Maybe it was the enthusiasm.

Maybe it was that she was plenty used to dealing with people who were, in general, over-the-top and vaguely ridiculous. She did employ a guy who went by "Moe Skeeter", after all.

And between thoughts of VILE, and home, and that same vague urge to go out and make off with the nearest geographical landmark that she couldn't quite suppress — well. She could think of one (possibly reckless, possibly ridiculous) way of settling both their problems, couldn't she?

"Though I wonder if we might be able to find a mutually beneficial solution to that problem," she added after a minute. "Assuming, of course, that local authorities can appreciate the distinction between sparring and an altercation worthy of police action."

What? Her personal life was shaken up enough as it was. No sense in kicking up the "oh and by the way I'm a criminal" debate on top of it, if it were avoidable.

Armstrong had not been expecting the suggestion and it showed on his face. Carmen was a well-dressed woman who carried herself with the sort of grace he was used to seeing in ladies of the noble variety back home; hardly the type one would expect to suggest a physical sparring match, particularly with a man of his stature. However, three such ladies from home happened to be his older sisters, all of whom were perfectly capable not only of sparring evenly with him, but coming out victorious in the end.

So the surprise quickly faded from his features to be replaced with pleased, rather than condescending, amusement.

"Oho! I must admit, when I was imagining a potential partner I did not envision someone like you, Ms Sandiego, but that is all the more reason to accept your offer! If you would permit me, I will not use these beautiful muscles to quite their full potential, to keep things fair...however, the fact that you are proposing a match in the first place has me wondering if I might need to reconsider!"

Beckoning to his Lucario (surly Berli, as he was nicknamed), Armstrong pointed in the direction from which he had come.

"There is a pleasant clearing in this direction which would be appropriate for such a thing; I don't think the residents of Saffron would appreciate us battling it out in the streets."

She carefully resisted the urge to make a comparison to the story of David and Goliath, or simply to point out that as the saying goes, "the bigger they come, the harder they fall". Instead, she took that moment to center herself, sensing intuitively all the possible ways her own competitiveness could get out of hand, and all the ways she might not be inclined to keep a lid on it with the considerably unusual mood she was in at the moment.

Think out your plan like a woman of action. Act out your plan like a woman of thought. If she wasn't careful, she'd find herself leaping into this one like a woman of action on both fronts, and she'd find herself paying the price for it, too. Let him be a decent man concerned for the welfare of a stranger offering to do him a favor. There was nothing insulting or condescending about that, not in his voice and not in his intent.

(And blast her competitiveness, sometimes, that might've wanted to make it so.)

"I suppose we'll find out one way or another, won't we?" she answered, holding her ground (physical and mental) with a slight smile of her own. "But either way, I doubt either of us will stay...distracted."

Which, in the end, was the problem.

She liked to solve problems.

"A clearing sounds much better suited for our purposes," she added in agreement. "Please, lead the way."

Nodding happily, Armstrong began to trot in the direction of the clearing, trailed by his Lucario who clearly thought this wasn't going to end well. As he walked, Armstrong turned to Carmen, unable to fight back his curiosity. It wasn't every day that he got people, particularly women, interested in physically fighting him and he had to say that he was somewhat fascinated by her.

His time in Johto had been mostly spent fighting alongside his Pokemon; Armstrong had a preference for those of the Ground-type, due to the fact that they were able to mimic some of the styles he used in his alchemy and he enjoyed being a teacher (particularly to such talented students). However, he'd found that after a while he himself was getting somewhat sloppy with his own fighting skills, and had started practicing with his Pokemon in more of a physical manner. However, his only Fighting-type Pokemon was Berli, and he also happened to be the only one capable of matching Armstrong in speed (at least, when it came to blows; his Garchomp was also talented in that area but Armstrong didn't really want to be skewered). For that reason they tended to work together a lot, but recently he'd been craving the company of a human sparring partner, if only to test his skills against someone who wasn't made of steel.

"Tell me, Ms Sandiego, how long have you been in Johto? Forgive me for assuming you are not a native, but after a bit you begin to be able to tell the locals apart from us visitors!"

"No forgiveness necessary; I like it when people are observant," Carmen answered smoothly, her attention largely on the man beside her but occasionally straying to the landmarks they were passing and the Lucario following along with them as well — the latter out of intrigue, and the former because as always, she liked to know where she was going and how to get back from it. Particularly when the ultimate destination depended on someone else.

Still, despite the man being effectively a complete stranger, what she'd seen of him already was proving optimistic. Considerate without condescension, practical without being stereotypical, and evidently interested in more than simply beating the daylights out of any taker that might come forth. All good things.

She liked him, she decided.

"I've been around for about nine months now. Certainly long enough to get used to the world's eccentricities, but not long enough that they've ceased to be fascinating."

"Nine months, you say? Why, we must have arrived at a similar time! I have been here just over ten, myself. It's amazing to think about; the time seems to have flown by."

The clearing came into view fairly soon after Armstrong had spoken, and Berli moved over to the nearest tree and leaned against it, mimicking his earlier behaviour in a far more relaxed manner. His species had the innate ability to read the auras of people, and he had decided that this 'Carmen' woman wasn't a threat. Though far more convoluted than what he was used to from most humans, there was nothing in her aura that made him think she would be a danger to Armstrong. He closed his eyes, satisfied.

His trainer, however, had moved over to one side of the clearing, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips.

"Before we begin, Ms Sandiego, were there any rules you wanted to implement? Any injuries that I should be aware of?"

Although Armstrong tended to be more ridiculous than most inhabitants of Johto, he would never let his nature get in the way of fairness in battle, even something as minor as a friendly sparring match. He'd let it overcome him once; never again.

With a glance at Berli, Carmen reached for her own belt and tossed out the first ball, summoning Chief, her Kadabra, to the field. He was the logical choice, being her starter and oldest companion, but there were other situational advantages to having him around, too; one of which being it never hurt to have a Psychic-type out and about when there were Fighting-types around, but the more notable being that Chief knew Teleport — his very first move — and if it came down to it, at least she knew where her quick exit were coming from this time. And it only seemed sporting, a sparring match with two humanlike Pokemon as observers. Fair and balanced, that.

Much pacified, she took up her own place, rolling her shoulders to test and reaffirm her range of motion in her coat. "I assume most of these should go without question, but it never hurts to be up-front. No blows to the face or head, no weapons or extra implements, and no prolonged grappling. The round ends when one of us is immobile, grounded, or calls 'break'. And since I gather you're more interested in the exercise than the technicality of format, we can dispense with point scoring for the time being."

As if to emphasize this, she removed her hat and sent it sailing over toward her Kadabra with a flick of her wrist, already beginning to mentally center herself in preparation. Just like being fifteen again. Albeit with considerably less potential of being shot with a harpoon if she were to make a mistake.

"If that suits you, then whenever you're ready," she added obligingly, adjusting her feet slightly to compensate for her still-present heels.

"That sounds fair indeed, Ms Sandiego!"

Armstrong blinked slightly when Carmen made no move to remove her coat or heels - surely they'd be hard to fight in? - as he draped his shirt over a nearby rock, flexing his muscles as he did so. There was something about the woman that was highly enigmatic; she was a complete mystery. She even had her long hair loose to the wind, rather than secured out of her face. All in all, she didn't exactly look prepared for a physical sparring session.

It was unnerving in a rather exhilarating way; to test the waters, Armstrong zipped forward with speed more suited to men half his size and aimed a soft punch towards Carmen's midsection. If it connected, it wouldn't hurt her; he merely wanted to see what she would do.

They were certainly no sneakers and cargo pants — her usual choice of adventuring gear, years ago — but the shirt and skirt she was wearing beneath them wouldn't have been much better themselves, and in any case if she could steal the Taj Mahal in heels, she could certainly stand her ground in them.

What surprised her, though, was that he was fast; she would've expected a man of his size and physique to be considerably slower, or at least to attack with less grace than Armstrong had. No wonder he'd been lamenting the lack of a partner. It'd be nothing short of a crime to let skill go to rust.

But this punch, it seemed, was designed to test the waters. So it was only sporting that she give him a taste of just how deep they ran.

Rather than inhibiting his momentum, she quickly sidestepped the punch and let him follow through, deflecting it further to the side with her forearm as she went. A strike in return would've been the natural response, but no; there'd be time enough for that in the exchanges to follow, and there was an implicit statement to be made in this first one here.

"Very good," she couldn't help but remark as she maneuvered out of the way, genuinely appreciative in her tone. "But I'm afraid it won't be quite that easy, Mr. Armstrong."

Admittedly, he was surprised that she managed to avoid him so easily, but at the same time there was a distinct feeling of satisfaction; that of an assumption made fact. Armstrong had anticipated a return strike and had raised his arm to block it accordingly, though he again wasn't too shocked when one wasn't forthcoming. Skipping comfortably away a few steps, Armstrong placed his hands on his hips and gave Carmen another one of those amused expressions, his voice warm and carrying an undercurrent of admiration.

"Ah, Ms Sandiego; you do not disappoint! Do not worry; judging by our little opening round I would be a fool to consider this an easily obtained victory."

His next move was spontaneous, instant; Armstrong knew that his agility tended to shock his opponents, so that was his next strategy. Perhaps that would allow him to get a slight edge against the mysterious woman in red, though he had a feeling that it wouldn't, as she said, be that easy. Regardless, he darted forward and followed his first strike with a wide hay-maker at full power, completely capable of stopping the blow should it look like it was going to connect. Again, another test; the wide punch left his right side wide open for attack. Would she simply block, or try to strike?

He was good — very good — and to be realistic about the situation, she had to concede that he had the advantage on her in terms of preparedness. In the years since leaving ACME, her training had taken on a different variety of focus, and while she had no doubt of her own ability to hold her own, that was still a different set of circumstances than a man who devoted continued and persistent time to his own training regimen. He'd give her a run for her money here, no doubt of that.

But more importantly, it would hardly be fair to either of them if she simply avoided his strikes forever. He was here for a bout, and she'd agreed to terms. It'd cheat both of them out of a good opportunity, if she were to go around doing nothing but keeping her distance for the duration.

Already beginning to feel the familiar rush of adrenaline that always came with a good chase, she ducked swiftly under the punch, taking advantage of the same momentum and turning it into a retaliatory kick to the ribs.

Again, perhaps more of a warning shot than an outright blow, but it was talent and preparation that made things happen, and this was still the beginning of the match. She was feeling him out as much as (she suspected, anyway) he was testing her, and once they both had their bearings, well. Then things would really get interesting, wouldn't they?

Armstrong allowed the kick to come close to grazing him, before skipping neatly backwards, a sparkle in his ~~everything~~ eye. He didn't relax this time, however, instead choosing to keep his hands up at his face, elbows tight and low to protect the vulnerable area Carmen had just targeted.

This was going to be fun.

"You certainly know how to fight, Ms Sandiego; the warm-up is over now, however!"

Dashing forward again, Armstrong threw a powerful, straight punch towards Carmen; the final test. Once he watched how she treated this particular strike, he could start fighting properly.

"Is it?" she answered, the words slightly clipped as she readied herself for the assault to continue, keeping her focus on his movements and the rhythm of the moment rather than risk dividing it too far between responding and replying. He was testing her, she decided; the first punch had been a tentative opening, and every subsequent attack had increased in confidence from there. And that said something, too, about the good Mr. Armstrong — while he may have wanted a fight, evidently he didn't want it enough to risk hurting her as a consequence of it. Quite possibly, he could stop this blow before it ever touched her, if he wanted. If so, she'd find his control and precision nothing short of admirable.

On the other hand, giving him a reason to find her admirable was starting to sound rather appealing, too.

Moving fluidly, she instinctively checked her balance, readied her stance, and then moved in forward as the punch was thrown, bring her arm up to block it even as she began to twist into a throw that, if successful, would leave him rather neatly on the ground. She didn't think; she didn't need to. She simply reacted, muscle memory and years of practice to acquire it coming to the forefront once more.

He had said the warm-up was over. It was the least she could do to oblige.

She had passed the final test, Armstrong decided as he landed on his back with a thud, blinking softly in surprise. While he'd expected a retaliation, he hadn't expected her to just hurl him over her shoulder; how excellent! Taking a few moments to get his bearings, Armstrong neatly leaped back onto his feet, squatting for a moment as he looked at his opponent, smiling.

"A fine throw, Ms Sandiego! I was right not to underestimate you. Before we begin once more, tell me; where was it that you learned to fight like that?"

Because despite himself, she intrigued him in more ways than one. There was something about Carmen that demanded curiosity and questions....although there was also the vibe that those questions could go unanswered. Either way, it couldn't hurt to ask.

Yeah, she still had it.

But triumphant or not, she was still glad for the respite — Armstrong had certainly kept her on her toes, literally and figuratively, and there was a notable difference between fighting out a prolonged match and simply attempting to shut down her opponent as fast as she could. The latter was more her level of expertise back in the day; no time to waste with drawn-out skirmishes when there were thieves to be apprehended.

Still, it was a good feeling — physical exertion, putting her reflexes to the test, adding in the element of surprise and danger. She'd been in something of a mood when they had first started, but she was starting to feel better already.

"Call it a job skill," she replied, which was answer enough while still not really being much of an answer at all. "And you? I won't hesitate to admit I'm impressed — your speed is remarkable."

In response to that little compliment, Armstrong couldn't help but flex his biceps and...well, sparkle a little.

"Ah, are you surprised that a body of this size can move with such speed? It is merely an ability that has been passed down through my family for generations! I hope I didn't take you too off-guard, Ms Sandiego~"

He had a feeling that he hadn't, however; Carmen's reactions to his strikes were exactly what he had expected from someone talented in the martial arts. The fact that she was so talented, however, was a bit of a surprise. But such a pleasant one! He almost didn't want to fight any more, preferring to take advantage of the downtime to learn more about her.

Well, what she would divulge, anyway.

"What sort of career requires you to be so skillful with your fists, my lady?"

"I don't surprise easily, but I'll concede it this time," she agreed, taking a moment to simply...well, be impressed at Armstrong's decidedly toned biceps and his generally sparkling person overall. There were people in the world who did battle for any number of reasons, and she could name quite a few of them, but Armstrong seemed different; there was something about him less weary than the others she'd encountered, something that let him still be jovial and engaging even in matters like this.

Yes, she definitely decided she liked the man. Sparkling muscles and all.

So as a courtesy, she decided to elaborate, likewise taking advantage of the opportunity for a breather as she did so. "It was part of my training as a detective. Some criminals have a policy of playing rough."

And she was decidedly not one of them — a fundamental principle she stood by through and through.

"Lucky for me none of them ever boasted prowess like yours," she added, absently rubbing her wrist. "Does your family have a long history with martial arts? I'm as curious about your background in it as I imagine you are about mine."

"Ah, a detective? I had a feeling that your career of choice was an interesting one, and I was not incorrect!"

That did make a lot of sense; it would be very important for a detective to be skilled with hand-to-hand combat. The thought of an elegant woman like Carmen battling ruffians and thugs, however...it was definitely a sight he would like to see one day!

...or, well, maybe only over the video, for if he came across such villains harassing the dear lady face to face, he would simply have to intervene! His pride as a member of the noble Armstrong family wouldn't allow him to sit back and just watch, after all.

Speaking of his glorious family -

"Why yes, it is a family tradition for the Armstrong that we become intimately acquainted with the many forms of martial arts! Why, even my baby sister Catherine would send many a regular foe running! My oldest sister is the most formidable of my sisters - I have four - as she uses a combination of her fists, words and sword to get her points across."

....that made Armstrong shudder slightly; Olivier was....certainly unique.

Little did Armstrong realize that her days of battling ruffians and thugs generally involved less zen elegance and more teenage rage, but hey, it wasn't like her skills had completely disappeared with age, and there were certainly ruffians and thugs about, if Team Rocket was any indication. Perhaps Armstrong might get his wish someday, after all.

But the mention of his family made her perk up noticeably, both because it involved longstanding traditions and because talk of family in general was having a particular habit of pinging her hard lately.

And upon listening to Armstrong's description of his family, she discovered herself downright pleased by what she heard; an equal-opportunity family of fighters, and the most formidable — enough so, apparently, to make even a man like Armstrong shudder — was a girl. Oh, now that was what she liked to hear.

"She sounds like quite the woman," Carmen agreed, not bothering to hide her smile. "They must keep you on your toes, your sisters. Do you all have different weapons of choice? She favors a sword, you mentioned having gauntlets. Either way, it sounds as though your family is one of admirable discipline."

She paused, then added amicably, "And if they're all like you, fine character."

"You flatter me, Ms Sandiego!"

And she did, really! What a lovely thing to say.

"Olivier - my eldest sister - is certainly a unique person! She's actually in the military and far outranks me; she's a General, while I am but a Major! It's really quite impressive on her part."

There's no jealously when Armstrong speaks about his sister, only a slightly fearful reverence. He is proud of Olivier's achievements; what sort of dutiful brother wouldn't be? Although with that attitude she isn't going to have much luck finding a husband...

"My other three sisters prefer more feminine pursuits, so they don't use any weapons. Although you wouldn't want to get in Catherine's way when she's playing with her piano; I've seen her launch it across the room!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tall, blonde, dark and lean

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

I am so sorry it took me so long to get back to this. <3

DON'T APOLOGIZE BB THESE MUSCLES WILL ALWAYS BE HERE

OH MUSCLES I CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU

THEY'LL NEVER LET YOU DOWN!!!!