The Punching bag swung hard to the left, the hinges of the sandbag groaning as it struggled to hold the training equipment in one piece. Melanie was nonplussed. She lashed out at the bag once again, its weight redirected once more, though to a lessened degree. She was used to a more populated gym, where the majority of her efforts were exerted mainly to proclaim her place beside those muscular lunkheads that actively belittled her. Now, she found that this extraneous and inefficient training method did little to actually keep her fit and focused during the day.

All it did was leave her sweaty and worn for the upcoming day.

Still, old habits died hard. Melanie punched the bag mercilessly once more, carefully calculating the trajectory and standing outside of its downwind curve. She closed in as the bag slunk away, slowly coming to a stand still. Melanie took a breather, drinking some water from her old blue canteen. It still surprised her how long she had actually kept it. Now she felt scared that she'd lose it in the mess that was college.

Melanie sighed as she leaned back again, the sweat glistening across her worn form and towel hanging half-heartedly around her shoulders.

The silence in the gym was broken by the swinging and groaning of the chains that held the old punching bag in place. It swung forward and backward, forward and backward, reacting to the force that was applied towards it. The lone figure struggled, seemingly fighting a fight against herself.

Against the backdrop of the well-lighted building and the white walls, it was clear that the person who was doing all this ruckus was a girl, and yet, a very lively...and nice figured...girl at that. She wasn't the typical girl who was all muscles and no femininity...in fact, for an athletic female, she could have easily passed as the one who was standing on the sidelines, watching and cheering as others who would've looked more in place against the punching bag moved the bag, and not her. But yet, there she was, constantly pushing, challenging herself.

The creature silently watched from the dark storeroom. He liked it here, more than he liked to be outside in there....it was bright. Far too bright for him, and with an aura of cheerfulness and exposure, he disliked it even more. He would rather have his way in the dark than in the light, but when an opportunity opens itself for you, you don't say no to it. You grab it, whatever the consequences, and the creature knew this all too well.

He was dying to come out, come out in the open, but he had to employ some sort of tomfoolery. Now what would it be?

One look at the girl made it all the more obvious. Having chosen his weapon, he opened the door, and slowly came out.

Melanie stretched herself once more allowing the pain of the exercise to ebb away, just for a bit. She bunched up her fists and flexed her fingers. She felt up to another duel...

With a punching bag. How... trivial.

Melanie decided that something would be in better use for the purposes of her spartan training. Perhaps it was would be worth exploring the...

Wait.

"Hello?" the girl cried out as she saw that the door was open.

Something pushed the door of the closet...a little gentle. It swung forth, and back, dully swinging, until something opened it with such force and intensity that it suddenly slammed into a wall, staying embedded for a few seconds before it swung back once again.

A figure emerged quite a few seconds after it swung back. He was breathing a little bit hard, and it seemed he had been hiding in the closet for quite some time. It was evident that this person was a little bit past his prime...but his hunched shoulders suggested a little bit that he was still in shape, perhaps a little training had helped him keep his figure.

The light was a little disorienting, and the figure shielded his eyes, his hood obscuring view of his face.

He was dressed in a worn out hoodie, with the initials 'B.S.U' knitted in white, varsity style letters in front of his hoodie. Underneath, it seemed that he was wearing what looked like a taekwondo outfit, and on his feet, he wore sandals, the same that kung fu practitioners wore when practicing.

There was a kind of mean aura rising from this person, and he was breathing hard, ragged breathes, although this did not appear to be because of fatigue.

It appeared as if he could hardly contain something.

Melanie jumped to her toes, hands raised the moment the door slammed open. The man that stepped out however, seemed rather disoriented. She cautiously approached the mysterious person, asking "Um... sir, are you ok?" from a reasonably safe but pressing distance.

Without warning, the visibly aged figure surprised her with speed uncanny for someone of his age. The figure lunged forward, quickly, as if to seize the girl. Then he immediately moved to the side mid-jump, and used his feet to spring upwards, do a somersault, and drop down gently, directly behind the girl. Upon having done this, he suddenly sprung forward, stopping just a few meters shy of the girl. That's when his weird breathing resumed.

Lilitu had been scanning his usually sound mind about fighting styles and the like to emulate. What came back, though, was that fighting style of an old man somewhere in the Oriental areas, which had the mix of a bit of capoeira, acrobatics, and a pinch of karate. He emulated the style, down to the old man's weird breathing...and his face.

The hood of his sweater had blown off somewhere in between mid-jump, and it showed his face: grizzled, with a thick, unshaven chinstrap connecting to a very, very bushy mustache, and his left eye had a scar going down from his forehead, ending at his cheek, though both his eyes were wide open.

He raised his hand, and gestured toward the girl.

" Your move." he said, " You wanted an opponent? Here I am."

Melanie was taken aback by the man's sudden exertion. She raised her fists, gritted her teeth and was practically waiting to wail on her sudden assailant. The man was quick, almost invisible when moving, and Melanie's eyes failed to follow the man as he flipped about and raised his fists behind her. And then she saw his face. Old, grizzled... but at the same time, Melanie's gut told her that THIS was a master. What he was a master, Melanie was not sure she could say. The scar indicated that he was involved with something violent and dangerous, two things she preferred to avoid. The man's challenge, however, could not go unanswered.

Melanie raised her fists, hands balled into steel. But did she even have a chance against such an opponent?

Wait...

Since when did she even ask herself that question? She was Melanie Dupont, and she never stood down from a fight! Melanie covered her face with her gloved hands circling around and closing in on the man. A wordless acceptance of the challenge.
"Well, can't say I've ever fought one like you before."
Melanie jumped forward, jabbing at the man, testing his defenses.

From what the old man-demon had learned, this was a textbook peek-a-boo style. It was a boxing stance designed to keep your opponent's punches away from you, and his face in front of you was easy to target because of the sight like box created by your arms.

She was lithe and agile, for a girl who looked nowhere near athletic. Her hand speed was excellent as well, but he was faster by a few seconds.

Minutes before the gloved hand hit his face with a jab, he caught the girl's fist in mid-punch. His face was a little to the side and his hand was holding her fist...almost caressing it, though he vehemently fought the urge to. He smiled, although it registered as a smirk on his 'battle-scarred' face.

" A little slow." He spoke, continuing to speak on character. " A little quicker, girl."

His feet were starting to jog in place now, riling himself up. He was going to play the part of counter-attacker, he decided.

Melanie settling into a similar stance to before, bouncing on the balls of her feet. This man was skilled. The way he had... "smirked" around her fist, the manner in which he deflected her punches with nearly no effort... Melanie had a feeling that this little sparring match would be quite a stunner. Still, the man knew what he was talking about. She would just have to be faster and quicker. Still, such an exchange would clearly call for a counter-attack.

Melanie tensed, fists raised at the ready, awaiting the incoming strikes of the man, attempting to anticipate, analyze, read his movements. If she could get a grasp on the man's speed and style, she could probably net herself a few jabs in.

Melanie, however, dreaded this match. Should it devolve into anything more than a simple spar then...

He was going to try out boxing first.

The man moved a little bit farther, judging that the distance between the girl and him was enough. He then put his right fist in from of him (he was trying to adopt a southpaw stance) and quickly switched into a 'Detroit Hit-man' style defense.

His eyes were focused on the girl...her form, clad only in clothes fit for a work out...a very sexy work out. He couldn't help but be slightly distracted, although he started moving his body to the sound of a silent music. His feet began to bounce, his head swaying from side to side.

He then started to release flicker jabs at the girl in an effort to get her off-balanced.

Melanie was unfazed by the man's flicker jabs. She been in boxing long enough to know the force and effort put into a fist flying at her. Instead of retaliating, Melanie bobbed and weave, defending herself against punches that would have connected to her body. The man was trying to provoke her, and she was not about to be caught in his snare. Melanie made sure that her balance was insured, her focus devoting to being in the best position to strike when the opportunity arose.

The girl was as resilient as he previously thought her to be. All his efforts to make her fall off her feet were for naught...as much as he moved away from her jabs and caught one, she was doing the exact same thing. Pretty impressive, given that she was a human and he...well, he wasn't exactly human, but she didn't have to know, did she?

He continued moving forward, bobbing, weaving, while throwing lightning fast jabs that would have thrown any lesser opponents off-balance. He was beginning to tire (being in this form is a pain, he gets their pain as well) and his jabs were beginning to become erratic, slow, inconsistent.

Throwing caution in the air, he followed one jab by a left cross and a right uppercut, which gave his movements a split-second lag as he caught his breath. Surely, anyone with a sharp eye and a sharper, battle-oriented mind would see such...

Melanie could not directly detect it, but for some reason, the man seemed slower. Slow enough for it to stray on the edge of being an advantage. Melanie took this moment to sidestep within reach, stretching around the man's extended jab and hoping to alter the pressure of the battle. She proceeded to aggressively attack the man's body, though she doubted it would help. If she could just move him back by... a foot or two, then this exercise would not be a waste of time. Melanie kept proper stances throughout- one hand in perfect defensive position, her legs angled and spread about.

BAM! BAM!

Two shots fired one after the other in rapid succession hit their designated targets, causing the human-disguised demon to wince badly. He staggered a bit, backing two steps backward before regaining his form and forming a peek-a-boo style defense in an effort to deflect and defend his stomach.

That was not pleasant, not pleasant at all...the old demon thought.

Seconds later he was back onto bobbing his feet. He surveyed the girl carefully, as it seemed, he couldn't let his guard down now. She seems to be a formidable opponent...for a human.

Even so, there are a lot of things he could do that she would have no time to guard against...besides, she would be surprised, there are a few tricks under his sleeve yet.

Melanie backed away as her attacks actually hit, concern passing over her face. "You ok? Sorry about that." Why had she done that? She had been treating this far too seriously. If the man had taken this too personally, it would spell doom for the comparative novice- if he went all out, Melanie would be hard-pressed to even defend herself properly. "If you want, we can take five and come back to this."
There we go- a kind gesture to show that there was no ill-will behind the strikes. That way he would not unleash his fury on the poor girl. That was the last thing she wanted. She smirked nervously, trying to put across her sympathy and empathy.