Adon loped with a cavalier ease into the training room, seeing the imposing figure of Omari Warrington who, as best as Adon could tell, was his main competition for muscly-but-sensitive Auror.  You know, right after Dean Bailey.

He glanced across the smooth black floor, scanning the opposite side of the duel area.  Great. No Radley.  Adon had been meaning for some time to get to know the unfamiliar faces on Level Two--particularly since he once more was serving in the Gloomy Isles for another, indeterminate amount of time.  Warrington didn't seem like a bad sort, in all.  He just--if Adon was going to do this without the aid of some liquor, he'd  hoped to have a sort of wingman for this.  Adon didn't really want to compare this to a date, but--with the way he'd ambled sort of fumblingly over to Warrington's cubicle and proposed an after-work sparring session, he couldn't help but feel a bit like he'd been unexpectedly been thrown back into courting for friends.

"Radley!" Adon called impatiently. His voice echoed through the sparse room.  The far wall held a cabinet, stashed haphazardly with some antiquated weapons.  He recalled Bagnold from the Beasts Division at one point pulling out a blunderbuss  from that corner--lot of good it'd done him.  Without real intent, Adon moved in that direction, chuckling slightly as he arrived.  He rested the tip of his finger on a scabbard of a scimitar.  "Who uses these things?" he asked clearly over his shoulder to Warrington.

If Level Two wanted firearms and weapons training, they'd do well to at least stay in the nineteenth century like the rest of the whole cursed Ministry.  This place.  It was like a time capsule.

Speaking of ridiculously old things... A momentary pause before: "Rad! Pick it up!" Adon was now looking up from what looked to be--God--a mace.  Turning back to Warrington, he gave a commiserating smile and sigh.  "I'm sorry," his voice dripping with insincere contrition. "He's a disgrace."

Adon wet his lips before this time barking, "Radish!"

This time his smile grew toothy as he addressed Warrington directly.  "You know the nicknames are only going to get worse, if pretty boy takes all our time getting ready..."  He jerked his head slightly into the center arena, where a series of white painted lines and runic images split the space with a mysterious geometry. Antiquated firearms aside, Adon did have to admire the historicity of this space.  Even the low-slung ceilings, with their pock marks and their burn marks cast an air  of tradition.  With each grazed scar on the stone, Adon felt he could trace the passing of time.

Speaking of passing time... "Radeesh!" Adon chimed in his thick Israeli accent.  Adon only pulled that out for special occasions.  For good measure, he added, "Ani yiv-at lecha ba tahat!"

"Your turn with the next name," Adon said to Warrington, now standing in the middle of the dueling ring.

Omari felt at home in the training room. All through his adult life the training room, whichever it was, had always been his safe place and it was probably where he had spent most of his days. Flinging hexes and curses, practicing his stance and his movements, and inventing counter-moves to forceful jinxes. He was happy to be back.

Omari was tying his shoes as Adon walked in. He had instantly took a liking to the Israeli wizard, and had (maybe too) eagerly accepted his offer of a training session after work. He hadn’t seen Adon in action, and not yet worked a case with him, but a good old-fashioned duel was in Omari’s mind the best way to bond.

As Adon walked over to the weapons, Omari stood up and stretched. He was back in his duelling gear, and his scars, his tattoo and his metallic leg were all clearly visible. It felt good to be wearing it again. Not that he didn’t love his Auror robes, but he felt more free in his battle gear. After all, his lucky tartan shirt tied around his waist had helped him win multiple duelling championships across the continents.

“It’s always good ter know yer way around other weapons,” Omari answered to Adon’s question. “If ye lose yer wand.”

As Adon turned around and apologised for the lateness of Radley, Omari let out a hearty laugh and winked at Adon.

“Afraid to face me without back-up, aye?”

Omari gave a last stretch of his shoulders and started slowly pacing along the markings, feeling the floor and twirling his wand between his fingers. He knew this was just a nice little training session, but he couldn’t help himself. Being back in the ring, regardless of when or with whom, he always went into full-on duelling mode. He was so used to the sensation of being in real tournaments (and real duels in the line of work he had chosen) that the stepped into that mind set instantly. As Adon’s Hebrew kicked in, Omari gave another laugh, smiled and chimed in.

“Archer!” His booming Scottish echoed throughout the hall.

Archer had a very busy day, by all accounts.  He’d been going over evidence and trying to organize a couple of cases.  He had to do some leg work as well, which pulled him out of the office for several hours.  So, when he got back and was bombarded by Adon’s request for training hours later, it was begrudgingly that he’d accepted.  Omari was apparently involved and Archer figured he could stand a little practice. 

Plus, the likelihood that Tamis would leave her post early was laughable, so Archer had agreed – with the strong implication that he probably would roll in just a little late.  He’d show up – but he had to get things done first.  Perhaps it was the fact that he was somewhere in the neighborhood of a decade older than both of them, Archer didn’t like to leave things unfinished at the end of the day. 

Putting the folders into his desk, he hit the cabinet with his wand and locked it shut for the night.  Standing from the chair, Archer stretched for a moment and let his shoulders drop before he started rolling the sleeves of his black shirt up.  He wasn’t one for over-glamorized displays of fashion and the simpler the better.  Plus, he didn’t want to be weighed down – or hindered – by the red robes. 

If he was going to hold his own against those two he didn’t need anything to give them an advantage.  Strolling into the room, it seemed as they were both yelling for him – Archer wondered if both of them were sick of each other already.  His face lit up with a crooked grin and he was completely unfazed by the room he’d spent what probably seemed like hundreds of hours perfecting his dueling in.  “Ya idiots,” he looked over the both of them, “no one told me this was a dress up party,” his grin muted to a smirk and he approached the center of the ring.

“You’re lucky this room has muffling charms or they’d be able to hear you all the way in the atrium,” he looked pointedly at Adon who had a habit of masking profanity in another language.  He didn’t know what he said – but he was sure it wasn’t exactly a warm greeting.  “Am I or ref or do I have to teach you two what a real duel looks like?"

He had to say, for all Warrington lacked in originality with his nicknames, he made up for in quelling attire.  Or its... lack of.  Adon hadn't bothered to dress out of his rumpled work attire--white shirt, black slacks, and trainers. The uh, bare chest was unexpected this early in the game, but he supposed it was Warrington's way of getting down to business.  In the army, he'd known people with far odder habits. Totems and good luck charms and special haircuts... Jewelry--you name it. 

“Afraid to face me without back-up, aye?”

Adon gave a delighted laugh at this, eyebrows rising.  He liked this Warrington guy.  Any response was cut off by Radley's gloriously irascible entry.   It appeared Archer also had not gotten the dress code memo, and was muttering something about muffling charms.

"You ought to know--" he began before cutting himself off with throaty chuckle.

Like Warrington, Radish, too, seemed to have his own vainglorious notion of how the dueling was to be set up.  Warrington expected him to be quaking in his boots, waiting for Archer as his second.  Arch expected he'd be schooling both Don and Warrington...

"Or maybe it's shirts  versus... skins?" He gave a cheeky grin.  "You all can flex and talk all you like--I don't really care.  I just say someone gets to act as second and take on the winner." He shrugged.  "I'm happy to start..." He paused before adding, "Or we could review our respective specialities--a bit of an instructional.  I don't know much about those weapons," he nodded to the far wall, "I hear Warrington's the poster child of arena dueling, I know how to fight dirty," he grinned before turning to Archer. "And I'm sure Radley could teach us how to recover from a blow with dignity.  Isn't that right, Arch?" He shook his head before adding,"Or, I mean... defensive wards. Either one."

Archer entered the room, wearing a regular black shirt, and shot a jab at Omari’s clothing. Omari just smiled in return and cocked an eyebrow. He had heard it before (once an arrogant Portuguese wizard had sent so many remarks about Omari’s attire during a tournament in Paris that Omari had received penalties for hexing him outside of the ring) and it might have to do a bit with vanity, but this was the only way he wanted to duel.

“Am I a ref or do I have to teach you two what a real duel looks like?”

The sentence made Omari once again let out a loud laugh.

“I think sitting behind a desk has gotten ye a bit delusional, old yin,” he answered with a wink. Omari usually wasn’t one for teasing, but this was part of the game. Psyche your competitors out.

Adon went on, and Omari folded his arms, a playful grin playing on his lips. This was going to be interesting. It seemed that both of his co-workers thought that they could beat him. Yes, Adon slipped in something about Omari’s duelling days, but more in a mocking way than in awe (something Omari actually was quite relieved of).

“Aye,” Omari said as Adon trailed off. “Ideally we would’ve been one more. Seconds” he pointed at Adon with a small nod, almost as a teacher giving points for the right answer. “Fer now though, I propose we either flip a coin, or we do go three-way duel.”

As he said the last part, his playful grin grew bigger and a couple of blueish sparks erupted from the end of his wand.

He knew, later on, he’d probably regret this.  He could hear the terrible house elf now, squeaking about how he should know better and how he isn’t a spring chicken anymore (ugh he could have kicked that thing out of the window if it didn’t mean so much to Tamis), but he wouldn’t let these two know that.  Archer was still fairly convinced he could hold his own with them, since he did have ages more experience, but Warrington did have a dueling past, and Adon… well… he wouldn’t be surprised if he lit someone on fire in the course of a duel. 

Of course, it wasn’t all about attack.  Archer had much more experience and skill with defense – he’d never really been of the mind that attacking first was the way of things, but the slight at this, delivered by the Israeli made Archer roll his eyes – and gave him something to prove.  “At least I’ve retained my dignity,” he pointed out as he rolled his wand idly in his hand, “you two won’t be able to say the same later.” 

Putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a galleon he had and walked to the center of the ring.  “We’ll start with a coin flip,” he looked between them.  “Winner decides first pairing, the left over will wait at second.”  The other suggestions seemed to indicate someone had to choose to sit out (and none of them would) or a duel that would feel more like a practical and Archer was not interested in running a practical at the moment. 

“Of course,” he clenched his large hand around the galleon, “If Adon wants a skills review, I’d be happy to school you both,” he smirked, opening his palm again.  “Call it,” he instructed both of them and the coin was in the air. 

---

Feel free to call the coin and determine the winner/duelists for the first  round.

Adon gave a soft smile as trash talk was alternatively dished out and deflected.  Not even wands drawn and they were already exchanging blows.  An auspicious omen. And look--Radley was getting all paternal on them, with talk of schooling.  "As you say, Professor," Adon responded, snidely.  But the fact of the matter was, Adon was nervous to face his two comrades-in-arms in a combative setting.

This would be his first time that Adon took up arms against someone--formally, informally, or actually--since he had killed several men in a Jerusalem fire fight nearly 8 months ago. [1]  Adon fully understood his superior's decision at the Jerusalem Auror Office to desk him. Worse than a sense of reckless abandon, Adon had consistently shown a raw and violent instinct in fights; Adon would use all within his grasp--resorting to wandless or even dark magic.   In a way the shift of his responsibilities had come as a relief; one could not get carried away in a frenzied passion of paperwork--even if his supervisor had commented on his violent grammatical edits and excessive use of footnotes.  But the fact remained: when Adon had been in danger, he had done what he was trained to excel in: he acted swiftly, with a deliberate ruthlessness, and he'd won.

This was how it was done.  It had worked for him without fail--he had survived thus far, sometimes against great odds.  But the skills of restraint were lost on him.  If he were to become a reliable Auror, a good husband or father some day, that technique would need to change. 

And this was the venue for it, he reminded himself.  In a controlled environment.  Warrington would push him--from Adon's summation, he determined that the man outranked him in size, weight, and most probably training.  But Radley would keep him in check.  He very much relied on Archer to moderate when--or if--it should be needed.  As always, the desire to not disappoint was strong, and Adon would bring as much restraint to this as he could.  Even if it meant he most likely would fall short and--for once--lose.

Not that he'd give these fools any indication.  "Tails," he called out. 

Archer caught the coin in his palm. "Tails," he said, flatly. Adon did a fist pump. 

Adon's smile was impish.  "Very well. You and you," he said pointing to each of his companions in turn.  "In the ring." he waved his hand decisively, swiping away any protests or anticipated jabs for not selecting himself.  True--Adon had set this whole thing up, and probably ought to start. And sure, this could look like cowardice. But it wasn't. Obviously. It was... it was strategy.  Omari was an unknown entity, and he wanted to see him in action first.  Besides, it couldn't be cowardice, he told himself, because he would be playing whoever won--making the opponent all the more formidable.

Or worn-out...

Well, whatever.

 "I think we establish some ground rules first, yes? Such as:

• "Do we allow wandless magic?"
  
• "How should we demonstrate surrender?"
• "Do we need to stay confined to the circle?"

With each of the questions, he seemed to grow more animated. 

• "Who pays for the damages done to the room?"
• "Can we use human shields?"

Good luck even trying a hostage situation on him.  And now the ones that would bring on the eye rolls:

• "Are we following strip poker rules--because if so, Warrington's at a disadvantage.
• "And who of us is going to be responsible to explaining to the Grand Boss-Lady that we've roughed up her beloved darling?"

And, finally,

• "What does winner get? Because I only have so much money, guys..."

There was a reason Adon was the only Auror that the Level Two lawyers--curmudgeons, all of them--could tolerate.  As a law enforcement officer, it was not hard for Adon to get caught up on the particulars. Adon could very well be the ruliest Auror of them all. ... If he wasn't always trying to find loopholes for himself.

1.	See this thread

“Very well. You and you.”

Omari raised an eyebrow at Adon’s decision. If he had been in Adon’s shoes (setting this training session up and getting the coin toss) he would’ve jumped into the ring head first. This might seem reckless to people, but Omari took pride in his duelling and he had, for as long as he could remember, always volunteered. He could always hone his skills further.

“Alright then,” he said with a smile and turned to face Archer.

He was just about to start the formal bow of a duelling match when he was caught off guard by Adon’s questions. The three first ones were all quite sane, but they were questions that Omari didn’t even think about anymore. Standard procedure-stuff. An answer was forming on his lips - but Adon went on. How many questions could a man have? And… how ridiculous ones? Was he serious?

“No wandless magic,” Omari began as Adon finally trailed off. “Surrender by holding yer hands up, and yes, we stay in the circle.For yer other questions…” He shrugged. “Winner buys a round down at the pub.”

He looked between Adon and Archer, unsure if his answer had been too quick and not up for discussing with the other two. Or if (hopefully not) there were more questions coming.

Archer should have been completely unsurprised by Adon’s request that the two of them go first.  Obviously he would do that.  Strategy would dictate you picked to watch first, then you got to observe your opponent and had a much stronger chance of winning as a result. 

Archer had almost no intention of losing, he was proud and these two would never let him live it down if he didn’t win.  It was bad enough he had already had approximately three fortieth birthday parties, he didn’t need the next to also celebrate this loss (as he knew they would carry this until the following March without question). 

They couldn’t get straight to it though. 

Adon had questions and Archer sighed.  Another thing he shouldn’t be surprised about.  “Do you need us to sign a waiver while we’re at it?” he smirked.  Honestly, it was a duel between (hopefully) capable adult wizards.   The smirk faded at the idea of strip dueling (inward shivering) and then telling Tamis about him. 

“I’m afraid I’ll be the one apologizing for maiming you two,” he stated as he strode to the other end of the circle, ready to get this started.  He raised his eyebrows at Adon’s declaration about only having so much money and rolled his eyes.  “So that’s why you have that new muggle gadget the e-talk or a-Tele.  Whatever it is.”  He didn’t get the muggle thing.  He grew up in a wizarding village and Tamis was pretty much allergic to muggle technology as far as she interacted with it, so he had limited experience.  For some reason, Adon liked that nonsense. 

Either way, he squared his feet and nodded to Omari.  “A singular round? Cheap winner,” Archer smirked and sighed.  “Now, are we ready?” he glanced between the two of them.  “Not getting much younger here.” 

No wandless magic. Well, that was disappointing.  Still Adon could do with a challenge.  A single round, though? Cheap winner, Archer complained.

"Easy, Archer," Adon chided. "He might not be as confident on winning as you are," Adon quipped.  He cast a wolfish grin at the duo.

"Are you waiting for me?" he said, gesturing innocently towards himself.  "Very well then," he said, holding his wand arm up.  "At the ready... and.... go!" he said, dropping his arm, a brief burst of yellow sparks filling the air.  Being a spectator could get dull after a while--he hoped one was capable of finishing the other off quickly enough.  Either that, or he'd find some way to sabotage someone.  He didn't mind buying people a round of drinks--well, two--to make up for it.

The remarks flew back and forth between the two other Aurors, but as soon as he saw Archer take his stand they all ran off him and he entered his duelling mode. He squared up and put his weight on his toes, readying himself to throw himself any direction as soon as he needed. He wasn’t sure how quick Archer was, and what tactic he used, but he was going to be ready for every one of them.

“At the ready… and… go!”

The instance the yellow sparks filled the air Omari charged into action. With a flick of his wrist, a wordless Expulso was sent towards the floor slightly left of Archer’s feet. Turning on the spot, Omari twirled around and began throwing the next curse before he could spot if his plan worked.

“Mimble Wimble!” he shouted, and aimed the curse to the right of where Archer had started - to the spot Omari hoped Archer would’ve moved to as soon as he saw the Expulso curse head towards him.

Archer laughed at the remark about confidence and shrugged.  Truth be told, he knew Warrington was a skilled duelist and though Archer was nothing to laugh at in a fight, it certainly wasn’t his first instinct.  He generally excelled in investigative portions of their job (though some would argue his… interrogation room manner was less than ideal). 

So, when the sparks were sent, Archer did what he was immediately good at and cast a shield charm, it would give him a chance to see what Omari was going to start with and was also one of Archer’s stronger spells.  The younger auror fired off two spells in quick succession, the first dissipating as it hit the shield, and the other striking the ground.  A tongue-tying curse that thankfully Archer had not stepped into. 

Pointing his wand he cast an immobulus charm toward his opponent’s feet, in hopes it would stop him in his tracks and then a conjunctivitis curse in quick succession, if the immobulus stuck then it would be a sure fire way to seal a victory quickly.  If not, Archer threw in a body bind just in case before readying himself for another defensive spell. 

Noting quite quickly that his spell hadn’t duped Archer, Omari swung around and cast a shielding charm just in time. The immobulus smashed into it, and Omari could feel the air sizzling with magic. And he loved it. His adrenaline was through the roof. He fired away a jelly-fingered curse before he dived to the left, just about avoiding Archer’s immobility curses.

Still in his crouched position Omari looked up at his opponent with a grin on his face.

“That’s all ye got, ol’ man?”

He fired off a hive-conjuring jinx, stood up and followed up with the steleus jinx. On his toes, and with his wand hand following Archer’s as closely as possible, he started circling his opponent. He wasn’t sure how Archer’s style of duelling was just yet, but he seemed to be one for shielding and immobility charms, rather than Omari’s preferred style - bangs and smoke.

Once the duel was in progress, Archer was feeling more… connected to it.  He didn’t do much in the way of dueling if he was choosing. Even in investigations, he preferred to do a quick take down -  immobilize and move out.  Omari had much more flair than Archer, to be certain.  He wanted to make the duel last, pulled some fast moves and looked for ways to distract his opponent, not necessarily render them completely useless. 

That was where they were different – and backgrounds probably came more into play here.  Archer liked to bring criminals down quickly and efficiently.  An entertaining duel didn’t really end in two or three flicks of a wand. 

Archer threw up another shield, having time because of the taunt, and laughed quietly to himself.  He recognized the spells: tricky, but was able to narrowly escape the hits (a little too narrowly for Archer’s taste) and just because he wasn’t a typical user of such spells, a bombarda aimed behind his opponent was meant to distract so Archer could follow it with a stickfast hex.