faye_dartmouth | Chaos ficlet: Unconventional Training Methods

Title: Unconventional Training Methods

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N:

eviinsanemonkey asked for Casey and a bat’leth. So yeah, it’s all her fault :) And nope, this isn’t even remotely beta’ed.

Summary: Casey trains the team in a new combat technique much to Rick’s chagrin.

-o-

“I don’t see how this is going to be relevant to anything we do in the field,” Rick says. It’s the same complaint he’s voiced five times now, though he’s tried to frame it differently each time.

It doesn’t matter. Casey’s response is frustratingly the same. He glares, hard and plaintive, which makes Rick feel mad and stupid all at once.

“You never know what fighting techniques your opponent might employ,” Casey lectures, talking to Rick as if he’s five.

It doesn’t help that Michael is standing impassively, and Billy is nodding along in sage agreement. They’re all in sweats in one of the CIA’s training rooms but Rick feels like he's the only one doing any work.

Rick gapes a little and feels helpless. “But this isn’t even a real fighting technique,” he protests, trying not to sound petulant.

Casey brings up his weapon and Rick has to scramble to bring up his own in self defense. “The basis of its origin is not relevant,” Casey says, the blade glinting dangerously close to Rick’s neck. “Its capacity to destroy and/or incapacitate is.”

Rick licks his lips, swallowing and trying not to appear nervous. “It just seems...I don’t know,” Rick says, hedgingly. “Silly?”

Casey’s eyes gleam. “It’s a noble and effective means of combat,” he says, pushing the blade ever so slightly closer. “There is a lot you could learn from that culture.”

Rick nods and tries to look serious. “I’m sure,” he says. “But I was too busy studying real self defense and actual languages to bother catching up on my pop culture references.”

Casey eases up fractionally, eyes still narrowed.

Rick extracts himself and looks back at Michael and Billy for some kind of support. “I mean, a bat’leth? Star Trek? Really?” he asks, hoping that for the first time his team might show a shred of logic and reason.

Billy shrugs. “I have learned not to be discriminating against techniques that may possibly save my life someday,” he says. “You have to admit, it’s an approach few opponents will see coming.”

Casey looks a little smug.

“Besides,” Michael says, picking up his own weapon. “The CIA requires so many hours of official training each year. Either we complete Casey’s course in Futuristic Hand-to-Hand Combat or sit through Blank’s session on the Fine Art of Deadly Ninja Combat.”

While the thought of Blank trying to be a ninja is sort of amusing, Rick can only imagine the long and interminable hours under such tutelage.

Resolved, he lifts up his blade. “Okay,” he says. “So where do we start?”

Casey circles him. “Always here,” he says, “on the battlefield, asking yourself one question: is today a good day to die?”

With no further preamble, Casey lunges at him and Rick scrambles for some kind of defense as their training begins.