xp_logs | Log: Marie-Ange/Remy

Remy spends some time training Marie-Ange in more advanced hand-to-hand combat lessons.

"I hope dat you warmed up, Marie-Ange." Remy stood relaxed in the centre of the mats on the third floor of the brownstone. Most of them had been using the weights and machines regularly, but only in the last few weeks had Wisdom and LeBeau focused on actual training sessions. Most of the staff had hand to hand training with the X-Men, but both Remy and Pete had started moving them on to areas much more suited to the job they now did.

Marie-Ange rolled her eyes. "I am not -that- inexpierenced, Remy. Nor am I a particular fan of cramps or pulled muscles." She would've claimed that she wasn't a masochist, but she couldn't think of any way that such a claim wouldn't result in a bad joke from Remy.

"You haven't been in training for a while now. It's easy to forget de basics." He took a couple of steps back, allowing Marie-Ange to settle into a space on the mats. "Speaking of basics, you should have a good set of dem from de X-Men. What we're going to focus on is new techniques; ones designed to get you out of combat as fast as possible."

"This is not that Krav Maga that Shiro and Haroun did, is it?" Marie-Ange asked cautiously. That seemed unpleasant, and sometimes just overly aggressive. Also, it was Shiro, and anything he did was suspect.

"No, dis doesn't have fancy names and dojos in de suburbs. De thing to remember 'bout martial arts is dat dey about ritualizing combat. Dis is 'bout hurting someone fast enough and bad enough dat dey can't push a broken bottle through your face." Remy moved as he spoke, slowly circling Marie-Ange. "In dis job, we're trying to avoid combat situations whenever possible. If we do get caught, we need to focus on getting clear as fast as possible."

Marie-Ange knew just enough to be wary of the way Remy was moving. It reminded of her of the old childrens' book, Riki Tiki Tavi. The mongoose and the snake. She just was not sure which Remy was, or if it really mattered. "I like my face. Avoiding broken bottles in it is somewhat of a goal of mine," she said. "I thought if we got caught, we were already doing this wrong?"

"In most cases, yes. Dere is de odd time we're going to go in for combat, but dose times, your powers are going to be what you lead wit'. So we're going to focus on de rest of de time, getting caught were you're not supposed to be and getting away." Remy stopped moving for a second, and pointed to several locations on Marie-Ange's body. "De eyes, throat, solar plexus, kidneys and groin. Dose are de places to aim for."

"Joints, soft places on the body, and where there are nerves, yes?" Marie-Ange asked. "That much I do know. Hit for places that will keep someone from chasing me, seeing me, or make them hurt too much to want to hurt me?" She wasn't quite sure where she'd learned that. Maybe Sif, in Asgard, maybe her training with the X-men. She just remebered it.

"Dat's right. Pain centres, we call dem." Remy shifted his weight and drove a strike at Marie-Ange, stopping just a fraction of an inch under her chin. "A proper strike to de throat will incapacitate someone. Strong enough, and you'll kill dem almost silently. Seize up de trachea, and de only thing on dere minds is trying to get air down. Push you thumb into de carotid artery, and you can force down a much larger person in seconds. Far more effective de trying to out choke someone."

Marie-Ange flinched back on instinct, completly failing at any chance she had to try to look unflappable. "That? Is really very unnerving." She said, looking down at Remy's hand. "Where is the carotid artery?" She asked, already regretting the question.

"Side of de throat, running up along dese muscles." Remy ran his thumb up the side of her neck, prodding at points. "It's difficult to hit properly, but if you have no leverage for a strike, and are rendered immobile by a much larger opponent, it's de best last ditch effort. Wit' you size and weight, you likely going to be up 'gainst larger, heavier people, wit' better reach. De key is to deprive dem of dose advantages."

Remy stepped back for a moment. "De main thing is commitment, chere. De person dat's going to win a fight is de person dat is willing to hurt de other person de most. You need complete and unflinching willingness to cripple or kill de other person in order to get away. If not, you'll hesitate, and dat will get you killed."

"That may be a problem." Marie-Ange said plainly. "I am not Sarah. I am not you. I am not even Wanda. I..." She sighed, looking down at the ground. "And I do not know how to fix that. Asgard was luck, and Skippy was an accident, and I had nightmares about it for months."

"Nightmares are a good sign, Marie-Ange. It means dat you're not a psychopath. Dat's why we train you how to commit to a strike, like it's instinct." Remy tucked his thumbs in the back of his sweatpants. "Over and over, we train until dese things become as natural as breathing. By now you know dat we're not looking for a team full of assassins, but de situations we're getting into, getting caught often comes down to either you and dem. If dat happens, dis training will make sure it's dem."

"I still want to throw up at the sight of a lot of blood." Marie-Ange admitted sheepishly. "That training speech sounds a lot like the ones for the X-men, without the part about killing. I know I can punch someone, I have done it. I know I can kick someone in the groin, I have done it. I am not sure about other things. Taking out someone's eye? That is... " She spread her hands, to try to indicate how large of a step past 'punching' it was for her.

"Possibly the only way to keep yourself alive, Marie-Ange. If you're lucky, you'll never have to be in dat situation. But we're still going to train you for it. Because if it happens, I'm not bringing back your dead body because we got squemish 'bout teaching you de right way." Remy cracked his knuckles. "It's going to be different for de X-Men. Dey normally entering a situation directly, and can coordinate dere response accordingly. Dis is when we don't have any control, and need to get out."

"Now," Remy paused and cracked his knuckles. "Let's get started."