The coils shot toward him with speed he hardly expected from a third stringer. Constrictor had never been one of the big leagues villains. Sure, he'd fought the Hulk once, but he'd lost just like everyone else. Rookie mistake, Nate chided himself inwardly. Underestimating one's opponent was the biggest mistake anyone could make. Then again, he had told Stacy that he didn't want her to go easy one him. She wouldn't disable her failsafes of course, but he usually got a pretty good workout anyway. It wasn't too hard to believe that her version of Constrictor would be a tougher opponent.

The armor augmented his movement as he dropped under the onrushing coils, sliding across the ground to aim a kick at the villain's legs. The man leapt over them, throwing his weight down to pin Nate under himself, a split second burst from his boots sent him backwards, and he quickly leveled out, shooting to the side to narrowly avoid a swipe from another electrified tentacle. The next moment however, a second appendage lashed across his back, sending a jolt through his body, forcing him to grit his teeth. Furious, he rounded on the simulation, whose features were curled in a pleased smirk.

The tentacles whistled through the air again, but Nate, furious reached out a gauntleted hand, catching them both as he boosted the shields in that part of the armor to their maximum. A quick adjustment rerouted the power to his free hand in a fraction of a second, and a full power repulsor blast incinerated the would-be villain. For a moment, Iron Lad simply lowered himself to the ground, breathing hard as looked over the charred remains of the simulated person. When had he become capable of something like that? Letting out a long, slow breath he leaned his head back staring at the ceiling.

"Reset and pause simulation please, Stacy."

Two weeks of training had gone by already, and Kang and Ronon hadn't even gotten close to the hard stuff yet. The experience level of the students varied, making it somewhat difficult to keep everyone involved at times, but they'd managed it, and were seeing a good amount of progress. Injuries had also been to a minimum, something they were glad for; Kang had gotten lucky and found several wooden practice swords, decreasing the chance of serious injury, though he had made sure that everyone got to handle a real one at least once in the sensoriums. He really didn't want anyone to lose a limb or get stabbed in the gut.

They were also pleased to see that no one had quit the class yet, and that more than a few were quite enthusiastic about what they were learning. It boded well.

[Erii, if you've got anything to add for Ronon in particular, do it. If you want it in the post itself, and not as a comment, just IM me with it, and I'll add it in for you.

Previously!

Basics of hand-to-hand, proper knife and sword handling. Important points: Eye contact with an opponent at all times, prevention of telegraphing moves, breathing, learning to read an opponent and spot weaknesses. Most of it so far has been defensive rather than offensive.

Things to be covered!

More hand-to-hand, basic offensive moves with knives and swords, basics of guns.

Also, I have a request. If there are any characters involved in this that would be inclined to complain about the training (specifically about it being too harsh) during class where Kang could hear it, I would love to hear from you. I have... a scenario I would like to play out, so if you do have a character that fits the bill IM me. :D]

Samus has decreed that Grif exercise and hopefully, through some act of god, become less of a slob than he currently is. Part of this is getting him to do something besides laying around on the Obs Deck whining about everything under the sun and several things that aren't.

The sensoriums are set up like a gym, a not uncommon thing considering some members of the crew. One of the treadmills is running, but there's nobody on it. Grif is sitting on a bench off to one side, playing what might be some sort of species of gameboy with the sound muted. He listens in case of approaching footsteps as he waits on the distance to rack up.

What? He's not running a couple miles. Not in this or any universe!