xp_logs | So it was bound to happen eventually...

Outside, Sputen Dyvil cove, not far from the boathouse. Haroun's just standing up from a kneeling position, facing towards Mecca. The time is sundown.

Sarah walks along the grounds, wearing a tattered sweatshirt and jeans. She's come out to get some fresh air, and perhaps something to take out her frustrations on.

Haroun's rolling up his prayer rug, one of his only really prized possessions here at the Mansion. Not even his usual nightly devotions can overcome his restless energy, his frustration about Emma's kidnapping, and especially his rising anger at the incompetence and helplessness of Xavier's students.

She kicks the fallen leaves as she walks. There's a figure barely visible against the sunset, but she's pretty sure she knows who it is, and certainly wouldn't mind giving him a piece of her mind. Or a concussion. Preferably both.

Haroun's hearing is perfectly good, and he hears the Supremely Unstealthy Sarah's approach. Finishing rolling up his prayer rug, he sets it down on the ground carefully, and watches the intensely-disliked woman wander towards him. Looking over his shoulder, he eyes the position of the sun and grins evilly. A Plan is Forming.

Sarah grabs for the bone emerging from her thigh. Holding it firmly in her hand, she shrugs. "Too bad, I was hoping to avoid assholes from the upland."

"I can see why. Too afraid of getting her bony ass handed to her." he calls over to her over the dull rumble of his flight power activating. He's hovering barely an inch over the ground. "Last chance to put the bone down and walk away, little girl."

"You know, I'd understand your attitude if I'd shoved one of these bones up your ass. Maybe I should take care of that for you." Her body tingles all over, prepared for a fight.

Haroun just _laughs_ at the notion. "You'd enjoy that too much, but then, I'd hate for you to get jealous. I know how much you like to save the bones for your own perverse needs."

"Oh, that hurt." She laughs. "Have you been thinking about that? What the monster in the basement does in her spare time? Seems you're more warped than you'd like to admit, fucking hypocrite." The more she talks, the more her words come out with a snarl.

"Well, no, believe me, that mental image is enough to make me want to borrow a few knives to stab out my eyes. But monsters take whatever monsters can get, and beggars can't be choosers." he smirks.

"I'll take that as a word of advice from somebody who's obviously so much older and wiser in the ways of being a monster than I am. I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time I need a good fuck." Bone begins to layer on her hands, and another bone begins to push through at her back.

"By the looks of you, you'd have to go for the much-coveted blind, deaf, dumb, drunk, and dead demographic. Either that or Jono, sometimes it's hard to tell. But hey, sometimes it's hard to understand you - you'll have to take Jono's tool out of your mouth once in a while. How much _does_ he pay you for services rendered, anyway? Or do I have it backwards, and it's you who pays him for the honor?" Haroun shoots back, the rumbling of his blastfield intensifying.

"Leave Jono out of this, jackass. This has nothing to do with him." She snaps. More bone layers on her face, finishing her 'armor'. "And I'll leave the blind, dumb and dead to you. I'd hate to steal someone elses fucktoys."

"It's a little late for that, I'm afraid. You're the one defending that waste." Haroun says mildly. "It's not _my_ fault he can't stick up for himself, and he needs the vastly overrated "monster from the basement" to defend his actions."

"I think I would be fucking grateful he doesn't come after you. I'd hate for him to blast away the rest of that 'body' you've got. Nobody could put you back together again." She shrugs. "No loss, really."

Haroun chuckles drily. "Sure. Like I couldn't handle a boy with a hole in his chest. Give me a break. My grandmother could take him out - just start him whining, and cut his head off while he's lamenting how "horrible" his life is. Hells Below, even _YOU_ could take him out fairly easily. Well, no, that might be a little much. From what I'm given to understand, you have trouble with flatscans with guns, let alone anything even remotely tougher."

"Oh yes. Let's talk about things we have no clue about. As usual." She looks coldly at him. "I was trained in the tunnels. I know how to fight."

"Sure you do." Haroun sneers. "You're the ... what do the kids call it, the Big Bad? of the sewers. Right down there with the shit and the refuse. Sounds about right to me."

"Fucking uplanders..." she starts, pulling another bone from her back. "You are no better than any of the Morlocks who lived below ground. In fact, if you had lived down there with the "shit and the refuse" you'd never have fucking made it. You'd have been dead within a month." She throws the thicker of the two bones, careful to keep a distance between them. She's not exactly sure what he can do, and she's learned by experience not to run into that situation.

"Considering the _fine_ quality of the now mostly dead Morlocks, I'd have to take that as a compliment." he says while drifting to one side to let the bone knife pass. Rocketing backwards, he follows ther bone-knife's path and picks it up off the ground where it falls. "Is this the best you have?" he shouts.

"Yeah. Sounds an awful lot like that other group you were in.... Hellions was it? And you aren't worth the really good bones, sorry."

Congratulations. You have officially _gotten_ to Haroun. "You're not worthy to even speak their names, let alone cast aspersions on their eternal souls!" he screams, brandishing the bone knife in one fist before blasting forward, pointy end aimed towards the sweet spot just below Sarah's sternum.

Sarah dives out of the way, throwing her other bone as hard as she can at his back. She scrambles to her feet, grabbing a bone from her forearm. "I see how it is. You're allowed to look down on _my_ family, but god forbid I even mention yours. Fucking hypocritical jackass."

The second bone knife gets incinerated in the thermokinetic backwash of Haroun's flight, but even with cybernetic computer-assisted flight controls, it takes _time_ to slow and turn at that speed. So by the time he can slow down to a hover, he's about two hundred feet or so past Sarah. "Your family were a bunch of diseased genejokes who weren't worth shit! The Hellions had a _future_, one that was stolen from them! You aren't fit to lick their boots clean!" And with this he stays on the ground this time (although the flight field is still hot...) and charges towards Marrow.

Never one to turn down a challenge, Sarah meets him half-way. This is her kind of fight, and she jumps into it almost gleefully.

Good, because Haroun prefers war to the knife - fratricidal alleyway fights have a way of emphasizing that. One thing she'd notice is that while Haroun is blasting, he just _radiates_ heat. Standing close to him is like standing next to an open oven door while the oven's set to 400 degrees F. He tries a quick exploratory stab towards Sarah's abdomen with the stolen bone-knife, clearly looking for the quick cheap win.

The dagger connects with its target, but luckily for Sarah is hindered by her clothes and doesn't cut very deep. The wound is really no worse than one left by the bones as they leave her body. In a fluid motion, Sarah grabs a rather club-like looking bone from her back and swings at Haroun. The back of her sweatshirt is soaked in blood within minutes.

Haroun takes the blow on his shoulder, undoubtedly leaving a deep bruise in his flesh. He snarls, drops the bone-dagger, and makes a grab for Sarah's arms, looking to get a solid grip upon them so he can _lift_.

Sarah twists her arm just enough that Haroun can only grab her sharp bone encrusted hand, and pulls away hard, hoping to cause some damage in the process.

Haroun is willing to accept a little damage in exchange for height. He grabs the proffered bone-encrusted hand, heedless of the cuts he's given himself. He rockets upwards as fast as his power will take him, trusting in the flight computer to keep the course and compensate for the wildly unbalanced load. He then slams his head forward and down, looking for the time-honored and true headbutt.

Unable to get free, Sarah hopes that that bone armor of hers is more than just for looks. She swings the bone in her hand at him, trying to get a better position than a head on target.

Haroun sees stars as the headbutt hits, but the onboard electronics keep his ascent fast and even. He takes another bruising wound from the bone club, but once his internal positioning system gets to 350 feet, he _lets go of Sarah_, and jets ten or so feet back to watch her begin to fall back to Earth over the lake.

Sarah tries to curl up into as much of a ball as possible, bone encrusted hands scraping her knees as she drops into the water. She's disoriented, but finally manages to find her way to the surface and find Haroun.

Which is not hard, as Haroun is flying about few hundred feet up and _laughing_, even as the blood steams down his hand from the cuts. "Enjoy your bath, shitstinker?" he taunts.

"Fuck you." she growls, swimming towards the shore, and incredibly wary that she can't exactly watch Haroun and swim at the same time.

So what do you know - the sewer rat _can_ swim. Ah well. Let's see how well she drowns, shall we? He rockets straight down, aiming squarely for the small of her back. He's looking to tackle her underwater, hopefully inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm in the process, then rocket away.

Taking a chance, Sarah takes a deep breath and swims down, as far below the surface as she could manage before swimming shoreward. She stays under for as long as she can, and comes up quickly before making a mad dash to the shore.

Haroun hits with a boiling screaming hiss, his thermokinetic blast field reacting badly to the water in the lake. When he doesn't land on a Sarah, he rockets back up to the surface and hovers above the lake, looking for her.

Finally making it to the shore, Sarah pulls another club-like bone from her back and tries to regain her concentration. This isn't over yet.

Haroun waits over the surface of the lake, looking at the bloody and soaking wet Marrow with some amusement. "My, it's a bit chill out this evening, isn't it?"

"I'm not here to chat about the fucking weather, jackass." she yells, gripping the bone in her hand tighter.

Haroun smiles thinly. "You won't be seeing it for a long, long time. Welcome to the infirmary." And with that, he rockets forward, top speed, aiming the Mother of All Uppercuts right at Sarah's chin.

Still winded, Sarah can't move out of the way fast enough to dodge the punch. It knocks her backwards with a *thud* and the bone flies from her hand to the ground.

Haroun grins. "HAH!" he yells, as he follows up the punch with several others, the heat of his blastfield causing the water in Sarah's clothes and on her skin to flash to steam.

She takes the beating, struggling to get a bone from wherever's closest. She finally manages to get one from her arm, and swings it blindly, just trying to get him away long enough to escape.

Haroun blocks the wild swing with his forearm, and in return drives his foot into her ribcage with inhuman force.

The force of the kick breaks the bone armor on her chest, and she lies limply on the ground. Her chest tingles as her body fights to keep up with the exertion.

Haroun isn't looking to kill Marrow, although he could right now. The battle-madness is starting to fade from his thoughts, and his blast field dies with a final sizzle. "I still don't like you, you skanky bitch." he says as he squats down next to her. "Every breath you draw from here on is because _I_ allow it. Keep this in mind the next time."

With every ounce of strength she has left, Sarah throws herself at Haroun, a bone dagger headed straight for his shoulder. "I am _not_ that easy to beat." She growls.

Haroun, half-expecting the Morlock to do the honorable thing, takes the dagger in the shoulder. He cries out in pain, then quickly pulls the dagger out of his shoulder, staring at his blood on the blade. Before he can use the knife to end the Morlock's life, a blast of laser light snaps the blade in two, and a brilliant flash of light goes off right behind the eyeballs of both duellists.

With a rather unpleasant gleam in her eyes, Alison shifts from her usual firing position, one hand holding the firing hand steady, and raises both hands wide open over her head to unleash a blazing kaleidoscopic light show. The combatants recover from the first blinding flash of light only to be hammered with a swirling maelstrom of light, vertigo and nausea the near instant result."That is quite enough from both of you," she states flatly, watching them both without pity as the inevitable ensues.