fandomhigh | Punching People for Fun and Profit, Period 1 [Class Six

Fred had the class meet in the Danger Shop again today.

"So, here's the deal," Fred said. "Today's the first of the explorations into various real world options you have for using these violence skills. We're gonna have practical exercises. So be prepared to freak the hell out. And dress appropriately."

He laughed.

"Today, we're covering something that's often the poor job of underpaid rent-a-cops. Bodyguarding. Simply put, your duty is to protect somebody from getting hurt. Now, this usually means that they have reason to think their life is in danger. Whether it's a pop star, an actor, or a politician, you pretty much become their own special thug. You make sure the wrong people can't get near them, and make the persistent idiots stop being persistent. Also, yeah, you might have to take a bullet if you're feeling noble."

"Today, you'll get to do group, pair, or individual work. You'll get put into a random scenario of someone you have to protect. You might have to deal with overzealous fans, or a pitchfork wielding mob, or just about anything. So get your group ready, let me know, and I'll start the program for you."

[ooc: ~~OCD first, please~~ Open for business!]

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Elena was marching forward, quickly and efficiently, one arm out on either side and making damn sure that the Star with the huge ego and no common sense was directly behind her.

"No autographs," she snapped fiercely. "Move it along. Move."

"I WANT HIM TO AUTOGRAPH ME WITH HIS BABIES!" one screamed, shrill and obnoxious. Luckily, they were easily deflected by Elena's professional demeanor.

The next block, however, proved a bigger problem. Three men, with baseball bats.

"Hey, you're the reason my girlfriend dumped me!" said the brutish faced leader of the group.

Elena stopped dead in her tracks, hoping like hell Hobo-Hair would have the basic self-preservation to stay behind her and not butt in.

"Gentlemen," she said, firmly, opening her coat to show off her shoulder holster. She let one hand linger on her gun, the other still out to the side, protecting her client. "Are we going to have a problem, here?"

"You bet we're gonna have a problem," the idiot said. "And no little girl is gonna stop us."

Hobo-hair was practically wetting himself.

It was amazing how many people saw a tiny blonde girl and assumed she was a lightweight. Apparently, they thought Hobo-Hair was skimping on the personal security, here?

"I was hoping we could do this the easy way," she sighed. A split-second later, she was reaching to grab the front guy's wrist, to turn it hard so that he either dropped the baseball bat or sprained it.

The dude screamed, dropping the bat. His two buddies, however, went to try and take a swing at Elena while she was 'occupied'.

"Seriously?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She would have let them run away screaming like little girls. So much for that.

She used her left arm to block an incoming bat while she bent down and scooped up the one that the lead idiot had dropped. One curved upswing would bring her bat into contact with that wielded by Moron #3 -- either the bat itself, which should send it flying upwards, or his hands, which would give such a satisfying crunch.

There was definitely some broken fingers there. That one started to run away with his arm twisted friend. The last one seemed uncertain, standing there, bat in hand.

Elena straightened up to face Moron #2, offering him a fake smile.

"Hi there," she said. "Wanna find out how many hits it takes to fuck up your knees? I'm thinking three."

There was a distinct smell, a puddle, and then Moron #2 ran for the hills.

Sadly, it seems that during the scuffle, the fangirls had caught up and were trying to get Hobo-hair to sign their breasts.

"Oh god!" he said.

Elena whipped around, still brandishing the bat. Ugh, fangirls.

"No autographs," she snapped. She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked, dragging him forcibly down the street and hopefully away from those stupid harpies.

"The shirt's imported!" he protested. "Careful!"

"Then pick up the pace a little," Elena sighed. "Come on. You wanna be late for the premiere? All your little fangirls might wander off."

Appeal to his vanity, because she knew he had that.

"God, I hope there's not... what did you just make me step in?" he said.

It was the puddle moron #2 left behind.

Punching People for Fun and Profit, Period 1 [Class Six | 10/7/2009]

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