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That spring afternoon was blessedly mild, letting Electro and Shocker only get uncomfortably hot in the warehouse rather than completely overheating, as had been a problem the last few days they had tried their little training session. Their setup was thrown together, consisting of cans and bottles and whatever else they could find, set up on the occasional table, chair, or accessible support beam scattered about. The warehouse wasn't so much abandoned as it was left purposefully empty by its owner. It made for a decently convenient temporary hideout or makeshift shooting range in their case.
Electro let off a shot of electricity at an empty whiskey bottle set on a table about 30 feet away and missed by a couple of inches.
“Shit,” Electro muttered.
“Alright, that wasn't the worst you've done,” Shocker replied. He stood a few steps behind Electro, just off his right shoulder. Shocker was dressed in his full suit while Electro had his mask down.
“You don't need to coddle me. I'm not a kid, I just suck.” There was a light-hearted quality to his tone, though far from careless.
“You're just-” Electro shot and missed again, “You're too tense, I think.”
“Didn't you say you're supposed to be? Prep for kickback or whatever?” He shook out his hand and tried again. He hit the bottle, and it shattered. He smiled, “Hell yeah.”
“That's what I gotta do. Gun or gauntlets, I've got something separate that pushes me back. You've just got your hands.”
“So?”
“So, looks like it doesn't affect ya the same. It shoves you back less.”
“How on Earth do you know that?”
“You asked me to fuckin’ train you, you think I'm not gonna watch you during it? I know it ‘cause I've seen it.” Montana stepped up behind Electro and put his hands on his shoulders, momentarily digging his thumbs into Electro’s back, who startled at the contact. “Loosen up and stop overthinkin’ everything. That comes later.”
“Fine.” He took a breath and aimed a hand at an old soda can close to where the whiskey bottle had once been. He shot, and the spark glanced off the side of the can, knocking it away. He sighed.
“Better,” Montana stepped away. Electro deflated a little at the loss of touch. Not that he’d admit it.
“Jesus, I'm not this bad when I'm fighting Spider-Man, right?”
Montana put his hands on his hips and looked around at their targets, “Nah, you've got a far better success rate in an actual rumble.”
“Why?”
Montana wandered a few feet away, near a couple more makeshift targets. “Can't say for certain, but,” he shrugged, “mostly adrenaline, at a guess. You can't get too in your head so you're not screwin’ yourself over.”
“So, what? Do I just stop thinking?” Electro asked sarcastically.
In a moment, Montana swiped an empty Coke bottle from the ground and chucked it at Electro. He yelped and threw up a hand, zapping the bottle and shattering it midair.
“You rely more on your instincts.”
“The fuck was that for?!”
“An example. Ya hit it, didn’t ya? Y'know how you can look at something an’ more or less know how heavy it's gonna be? Don't gotta think it through, you just know. Think of it like that.” He walked up to Electro and put a finger on the middle of his chest, “You don't need to think about compensating. Your body's gonna know what to do better than you would.”
Electro swallowed, glancing down at Montana’s hand, “Right. So- do you, uh- is that what you do, then? It's all just, instinct?”
He stepped back, shrugging, “A bit. I've been doing this shit so long it just sticks in my body. It's not that I don't think about it, but I don't have'ta focus on it.” Without looking, Montana aimed his right gauntlet at a couple of cans behind him and successfully blasted them from where they stood. There was a noticeable jolt in his body, and his left foot slid backwards the slightest amount to take some of his weight, but otherwise stayed still.
“Show off.”
Montana chuckled. He paused to think for a moment, “I think I've got an idea.”
“So long as you don't try to kill me, you don't gotta worry ‘bout hurtin’ me,” Montana hit his chest with a fist, his suit causing a slightly muffled thump, “Not that you could.”
“You sure about this?”
They'd cleared a section of the floor of their targets so they could spar. They stood across from each other, about 10 feet apart.
“‘Course I am! Listen, kid, you may have your fancy powers, but my folks had me wranglin’ the pigs since before you were born, and I ain't met a steer I couldn't-” Montana was thrown back by a bolt of electricity and got knocked onto his ass.
“You done?” Electro was doing his best not to laugh.
Montana smiled and brought himself into a crouching position, “Well, alright then.”
Montana rushed forward and grabbed Electro around his waist, tackling him to the ground.
Electro hit the ground hard and the air was forced from his lungs. They grappled with each other and Electro gave Montana a small shock that did nothing against the insulation of his suit. They were face-to-face as they wrestled. Montana pinned one of Electro's hands to the ground near his head and worked on doing the same to the other. Montana managed to clasp Electro’s other hand in his own and held it to the floor. Electro grunted and managed to put a foot against Montana’s front. He shoved him back and electrocuted him again, putting enough force behind it to throw him back a good few feet.
Montana yelped as he hit the ground. He used his forearm to brace himself, stopping him from hitting his head on the concrete. Electro rolled over and stood up; after taking a brief moment to catch his breath, Montana followed suit and pushed himself up. They watched each other. Electro stood in a rough approximation of a boxer's stance, hands up in front of his chest but fingers relaxed. Montana had his arms floating at his sides, looking like a cowboy preparing to draw. He watched Electro carefully, waiting for-
Electro shifted his weight and Montana ducked to the side just as a bolt of electricity shot past where he had just been. At the same time, he raised a gauntlet and hit Electro with his own energy blast. Electro stumbled, stumbled, and caught himself before he could fall. He lost track of Montana for just a moment. He heard something slide against the floor and felt the air shift behind him. Electro turned and shot at Montana, knocking him down again.
Electro laughed as Montana took a moment to catch his breath. “Take that, asshole!”
Montana barked a laugh of his own. “I told ya, just gotta stop thinkin’ too hard.” He sat up and pulled off his mask, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Sure. Whatever you say, old man.” Electro smiled and walked over to Montana, offering a hand.
Montana took it and pulled himself up. He and Electro were chest-to-chest, only a few inches between them. Electro flushed, and Montana smirked, “You did forget somethin’, though.”
“Oh? And what would that-”
Next thing he knew, Electro was on his back with Montana on top of him, straddling his stomach with a hand next to Electro's head and forearm braced against his neck. Montana’s breath was hot against his face. Montana’s face tingled from the electricity.
“We never said we was done. Now did we, boy?” Montana asked in a low voice, playing up his accent.
Electro heard his heart pounding in his ears. His mouth was dry. “Guess we didn't.”
“So, you gon’ listen to me when I tell ya what to do? Or do you wanna keep whining? ‘Cause I could keep this up all day.” His eyes darted around Electro’s face, taking in his wide eyes, dilated pupils, and his slight panting. Montana smirked, “‘Course, I could always hog tie you an’ force ya to listen if you ain’t feelin’ inclined to doin’ it on your own.”
Electro gulped. His breathing was shaky. Montana’s words brought some images to mind that Electro did his damndest to shove away. The time and place for that was not here and definitely not now. Besides, they’re kind of coworkers or something.
Montana leaned in closer, “Well?”
Were Electro to nod, their foreheads would meet. Instead, he muttered, “Sure. I- I can do that.”
Electro’s hands hovered near Montana’s hips. Did Montana know what he was doing? What he was doing to him? Their bodies were pressed so close. Montana’s cheeks were dusted with red and he breathed heavily, but whether that was from the physical exertion or… something else, was anyone's guess.
Montana smiled. “Good.” He sat up and Electro gasped as the arm left his neck, though it hadn't been cutting off any air. He clapped, “Now, I think that's enough roughhousing for today.” He got off of Electro.
“Sounds- sounds good.” Electro stayed down for a few moments longer, already missing the contact. His eyes lingered on Montana as he stood and brushed himself off.
“Well,” he stretched, “I say we wrap up here and grab a late lunch, huh?” He looked back at Electro.
Still on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, Electro nodded, “Good by me.” He finally sat up, “You’re paying.”
Montana laughed, “Sure, sure.” He helped haul Electro up, “Bleed my wallet dry, why don’t ya.” He looked over the room, and around half their targets were still standing. “No point in cleaning up. Same time tomorrow?”
“Only if I get to beat your ass again.”
“Sayin’ that like you beat my ass this time ‘round. How ‘bout we call today a tie, if it makes you feel better?” Montana joked. He threw an arm over Electro’s shoulder. Electro leaned into him, and they left the warehouse.