((ooc: I'm cool with Bucky winning this, btw. Brings up some potentially interesting possibilities.))
This was good. It wasn't what they were expected to do, but it was better. More efficient, more productive. Surely that was worth more to their data, to their understanding, than simply pummeling one another into senselessness? He'd been given this weapon all of six hours ago - what could he do but experiment a little with it?
Better now than in combat. Better punishment for not performing according to specs than death for it. This was the first fight he could ever remembering having where he needed to think.
He'd been braced for the knife coming, piercingly aware of the inevitable threat, entirely conscious of the fact that there could be no guarantee of non-lethality where blades were concerned. Unfortunately, as he moved to retrieve his shield, momentum was against him, especially as he was naturally slower on his feet than the other weapon. He compensated well, and quickly, but not quite enough - the blade drew a long, deep gash across his shoulder, before embedding itself in the floor.
The pain was merely a flicker, something he spared an instant of thought for and a moment of gratitude that the wound hadn't been to his dominant arm before returning his attention to the fight. The Soldier wouldn't be getting that knife back. He had plenty more, obviously, but his reserves couldn't be infinite. That was something to keep in mind, at least.
Meanwhile, he knew it was nothing short of unforgivably dumb luck that had allowed him to retrieve his weapon at all. He hadn't expected the other weapon's reflexes to be quite so fast, even with the metal arm. He'd been wrong. A trick to remember for future missions against weaker men, perhaps, but not now.
While he was entirely aware that to get in close would be to play right into his opponent's hands, he was also cognizant of not really having a proper choice. He had been ordered to fight. It would be dangerous, but as long as he was confident in completing his objective, that should not concern him. He would learn. He would adapt.
He would survive.
All thoughts that flickered through his head in a blur, before he settled on his next move.
This being to heft the shield into a position to protect as many vital areas as it could, keeping it between him and the other man, and rushing in hard and fast. He would almost certainly get stabbed and slashed for it, but he probably wouldn't die and that was what mattered. The Soldier couldn't retreat forever in these confined quarters - bringing the scientists into the fight was unacceptable. He knew he had to get in close and stay there, to even have a hope of bringing this fight onto his terms.
no subject
This was good. It wasn't what they were expected to do, but it was better. More efficient, more productive. Surely that was worth more to their data, to their understanding, than simply pummeling one another into senselessness? He'd been given this weapon all of six hours ago - what could he do but experiment a little with it?
Better now than in combat. Better punishment for not performing according to specs than death for it. This was the first fight he could ever remembering having where he needed to think.
He'd been braced for the knife coming, piercingly aware of the inevitable threat, entirely conscious of the fact that there could be no guarantee of non-lethality where blades were concerned. Unfortunately, as he moved to retrieve his shield, momentum was against him, especially as he was naturally slower on his feet than the other weapon. He compensated well, and quickly, but not quite enough - the blade drew a long, deep gash across his shoulder, before embedding itself in the floor.
The pain was merely a flicker, something he spared an instant of thought for and a moment of gratitude that the wound hadn't been to his dominant arm before returning his attention to the fight. The Soldier wouldn't be getting that knife back. He had plenty more, obviously, but his reserves couldn't be infinite. That was something to keep in mind, at least.
Meanwhile, he knew it was nothing short of unforgivably dumb luck that had allowed him to retrieve his weapon at all. He hadn't expected the other weapon's reflexes to be quite so fast, even with the metal arm. He'd been wrong. A trick to remember for future missions against weaker men, perhaps, but not now.
While he was entirely aware that to get in close would be to play right into his opponent's hands, he was also cognizant of not really having a proper choice. He had been ordered to fight. It would be dangerous, but as long as he was confident in completing his objective, that should not concern him. He would learn. He would adapt.
He would survive.
All thoughts that flickered through his head in a blur, before he settled on his next move.
This being to heft the shield into a position to protect as many vital areas as it could, keeping it between him and the other man, and rushing in hard and fast. He would almost certainly get stabbed and slashed for it, but he probably wouldn't die and that was what mattered. The Soldier couldn't retreat forever in these confined quarters - bringing the scientists into the fight was unacceptable. He knew he had to get in close and stay there, to even have a hope of bringing this fight onto his terms.