2014-03-07 - The New Face in the 'Hood Pt. 1

 ay, that is all this kid's name is known as. His bangs are dyed black to blend in with the rest of it, though his red hoodie is pulled up over his head as he steps into the gym. His sneakers look on the beat up side, and he doesn't seem to have gym equipment. He has the look and feel of a local Gothamite, which usually means trouble.



 Ted Grant is sitting behind the coffee bar speaking very loudly into the phone and not minding the occassional stare from a client. Mind their flipping business! "Yeah. Three hundred pounds or gym weights. I gave a report already. Maybe I;ll just handle it myself? You'll what? Listen you got Solomon Grundy's illegitimate son robbing honest businessmen and you do nothing but eat donuts, do I really think you're going to send a car to track me down?? Good day to ya ... oh ... civil employees get a ten percent discount ... not that yer all worth it!" He hangs up the phone and grits his teeth then sees the townie. He calms down quickly.



 "May I help you young fella?" he asks sounding genuinely hospitable.



 The young man blinks at Ted's energetic conversation. "That sounds...troublesome," he states. His accent is local, but the way he speaks is a little strange. "And," and he while tucking his hands into his front pocket of his hoodie, "I was wondering if you were hiring. I can clean or I can fight, don't much matter to me. I know a lot, but never taught anyone before. Just, umm...looking for a new experience and a job." Or something. Easy to hear the guy say 'or something' even if he doesn't really.



 Ted Grant raises an eyebrow as he takes in the local color. He tenses for a brief moment when his hands go into the pockets of his hoodie. But he relaxes quickly. Ted indicates a seat and pours a cup of coffee. He asks nonchalantly, "You hungry? We're giving scones with every job interview." He sets the coffee mug in front of the hooded one. You know what people in Gotham call a tea drinker? A tourist. You should hear the jokes they tell about Metropolitans.



 The young man seems to relax his shoulders a bit and nods, "Not going to complain about that." He goes to take a seat, flopping down like a true teenager, and reaching for the coffee first to drink. He doesn't add anything in it, just drinks it black. He blinks, "Enough tar?" But there is a sly grin appearing on his mouth as he teases Ted, actually sounding approving as he takes another drink from the mug.



 Ted Grant takes a seat and says, "It's supposed to taste like mud. It was ground this morning. We don't do Chai, Moccachino or Latte and if you ask for steamed milk you get thrown out on your ass. So make up your mind, you a fighter or you clean toilets? Also were you in that bunch tried to mug me the other night? Not saying I'm going to bust your head or any rough stuff. You just look like you been through a war. I've seen that look before."



 "What's the difference? You still get other people's shit on you, be it their blood or other," a bit of dark humor from the young man. The young man then snorts, "That wasn't me, you wouldn't be in such pristine condition. I fight dirty," he states. "If I taught, I'd be better for self-defense and conditioning, than actual boxing as a result. I do better fighting than talking, that's for damn sure." The scone is picked up and bitten into, chewed and swallowed, then washed down with more coffee. He glances about, "Weird being in a gym again, different feel than a dojo. I like it better, the gym feel."



<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant nods. "That's too bad about your fighting dirty. A good boxer can make more money than an instructor. I backed a bunch of guys who went pro. Thing is, boxing has rules. You can't just kick a guy in the balls and spit on his neck. Outside of a ring ... there's no such thing as fighting dirty or fighting fair. As for instruction doing and teaching are two different skills. I don't need you knocking some client's head off, you know? What dojo did you study at?" He passes another scone to him. "Also, what do you want me to call you other than shit stirrer?"

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> "I can tell you locations, sorta," the young man says. "I had an...investor. They got me teachers, we moved about. But I'm not someone's lap dog or fighting dog," he ends more firmly. But he then smirks, relaxing a bit. "Been caused worse than shit-stirrer. But you can call me Jay." Just Jay huh? Unsure if that even ring a bell for Ted Grant, there has been some guy named Jay on the streets that apparently buys up 'information' with cash or food. He is especially good to the underaged kids that come to him with info on gangs and such. But like not the same guy, right?

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant narrows his eyes and says, "I didn't call you any kind of dog. I said I back fighters. A list of sort of locations? I'm not hiring you to instruct SD based on that. Sorry. I kin tell putting you to work cleaning up is a waste of your talents. I just need to know more about how you use them talents first. I mean don't take offense but ..."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted looks around to see if anyone is approaching ... then throws a punch without warning. It's going to end a millimeter short of Jay's face.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> And Jay moved instinctively, one of his hands comes up that is holding the scone half eaten to block and redirect the punch, while the other hand is coming up and he catches last second BEFORE he throws the hot coffee toward poor Ted's face. He blinks. "Ummm...warn me next time?" He DOES fight dirty, doesn't he? "I can do a display without the coffee in my hand, or spar."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant ducks the coffee catching a little in his hair and pulling his hand back to avoid a wrist lock. He appraises Jay thoughtfully. "I'm going to throw some names out. Then I'd like to hear any thoughts you might have ... Dragon ... Shiva ... Ben Turner ... Anything?"

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Jay's brow wrinkles, and shakes his head, "I've heard of Richard Dragon, he owns a dojo in town, and Lady Shiva, she's one nasty merc," he states. "Not sure who Ben Turner is though," he confesses. "I don't much pay attention, unless they are really infamous in the underground like Dragon or big killers like Lady Shiva," he states. "Rumor has it, Dragon actually trained Shiva." The kid knows things at least, but he doesn't seem to know these individuals personally. "Furthermore, rumor has it you don't want Lady Shiva to train you. They say, she kills her pupils after they get so good once she releases them, so she can steal what new moves they learned and keep her title as 'the best'. No one smart wants her attention."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant nods. "You wear a mask, kid?"

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> "Mmmmms, superhero? Nope, no powers. I hear Victims of Heroes is trying to get rid of superheroes. Not my thing either which way, I mean...risk your life for no money and to get trash talked. Not that I'd just stand by and watch some innocent get hurt. Cop pulled me off one guy before, I was the only witness of him shooting and killing a lady. Cop said I went a bit overkill as he went to intensive care, but no charges were filed. I think he purposely didn't try hard to get my name."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant says, "I wouldn't insult you by calling you a superhero. What you did there isn't radioactive cobra venom or alien mojo. That's hardcore training. Supers ... are schmucks when it comes to technique. That Abomination guy broke his entire hand punching Supergirl. You ... wouldn't. I asked you did you wear a mask? Very different from asking are you a super ... and you didn't answer me."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Jay then tugs at his hood. "Sometimes, when you are breaking people's arms, you don't want to be recognized, don't need a mask for that though Mr. Grant," apparently knowing something, but not saying everything. "I'm not some damn hero though, but I don't just stand by and do nothing either when I see something messed up." His voice had dropped. "Don't much like to talk about it," he seems to confess. "So guessing since you asked the question though, never mind," he says. There is a social awkwardness about Jay, and a secretiveness that was immediately noticeable and only grows deeper.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Ted Grant seems to accept that. "Relax, Jay. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll tell you what ... I need a sparring partner. I like to stay in shape. I'll hire you part time to start and if I like you I have other fighters who need your service. I'll show you the ropes if necessary. Sparring is not streetfighting ... usually. I taught that too. Come back after we close and we can work out the details and do a couple of rounds."

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;font-family:Helvetica;"> Jay actually blinks, "Really?" He seems...surprised. But when he grins, it's a wide expression, almost happy. "Sure, that won't be a problem man." He looks younger in that moment, not because of his actions, but his face softens and his eyes actually reflect some emotion and don't seem so dead. He then nods. "I'll be here, you can count on it." He then moves to stand and says, "Ummm, sorry about the coffee," least not all of it when flying out, but he couldn't stop physics completely.