Fight Night!

[x-juggernaut.livejournal.com]

As ordered, the X-Men report to the Danger Room for Boxing Night. It works better for some than others, and few of them are walking out of this unscathed.



This was definitely what one called leading by example, Scott thought with a certain amount of amusement as he pulled himself up into the ring, Jean having satisfied herself that his hands were wrapped properly. Then again, he and Ororo had agreed that the two of them starting off the night was the best way to indicate to the rest of the team and trainees precisely what the rules of the game were.

She looked like she was looking forward to it just a little, though, if the evil glint in her eye was any indication.

Ororo was still convinced that this was an excellent plan, and she made a mental note to send Nathan a thank-you after it was all through. And perhaps an ice pack, she thought with a smirk, not having missed the elevated levels of anticipation in the air. As long as Cain and Amelia could keep everyone from pulverizing each other she had high hopes for the evening.

Kurt helped her on with her gloves, and she flashed him a smile before turning to face Scott in the ring. She gave him an assessing look and then shifted her glance to Cain. "Perhaps a reiteration of the rules, so they are fresh in everybody's minds?" she asked him, raising her voice enough for everyone to hear.

"All right, kids," Cain barked out, swinging his arms back and forth. No one exactly knew where they'd found a black-and-white striped referee shirt in his size, but it had the effect of making it look as if the fights were being overseen by the world's largest and angriest zebra.

"Rules are simple. You keep the gloves on, you don't go kicking or hitting below the belt. No kidney shots, no punches to the back of the head, no hitting your opponent when he's down. If you look too banged up to continue, I will pull your ass out of here. No flying around, teleporting, zapping your opponent with eye-lasers, lightning bolts, breathing fire, or sending your opponent to Poughkeepsie. You're here to get this out of your system, not to kill each other. You two ready?"

Scott nodded, catching Ororo's nod in return - and the very fierce grin. The Danger Room sounded the opening bell and amazingly, he managed to throw the first punch. He hadn't expected that at all. He had more of a reach than she did, but she was faster than greased lightning when she wanted to be, and had a whole arsenal of dirty tricks, most of which were thankfully illegal under the current rules. Otherwise I would indeed be getting my ass kicked.

Though they had run a few DR sessions in the past few weeks, Ororo knew that this was a different kind of test for them both. Scott had started to make up for the time he had missed on the team, and she was thankfully recovered from her escapades with Remy. They were both in good shape and full training, and though they had agreed this was just a starter match to get the ball rolling, neither of them particularly wanted to lose.

Scott's first punch wasn't light, but it didn't carry the full force of what he was capable of. She kept her defenses tight, absorbing the blow and then slipping closer to aim several jabs at his chest and shoulders. Which, of course, were all she could reach, really. Curse him for being so tall.

See, if we were really fighting, she would already have kicked me in the knee. Or worse. He couldn't help the fierce smile that flashed across his face, even as he blocked another flurry of punches and landed only one of his own in return.

It was just a damned good thing that he didn't have anything against hitting women anymore. Of course, it was 'Ro and Jean who'd beaten that out of him, long since...

All in the interests of his well-being, of course. It was hard to be a crime-fighting superhero that refused to hit a girl. Ororo, of course, never had any compunctions along that line, and it was harder for her to remember to stick to the rule than anything else.

Gradually Scott began hitting harder, and she spent more time weaving and side-stepping to avoid his punches and less time actually hitting him. It wasn't impossible to stay out of the way, but that meant that she didn't land any hits of her own. As the seconds ticked by her expression grew more serious, and she began to watch him carefully for any openings or weaknesses that she could take advantage of.

She was getting that calculating look, he saw. It didn't take long for it to bear fruit, as she slipped a glorious punch past his guard and right into his ribs, hard enough that Scott actually reeled backwards a step. He straightened against almost immediately, grinning around his mouthguard, but then Cain was calling for a break.

"Round one!" Cain hollered, motioning Ororo and Scott both back to their corners. He gave each of them a cursory once-over, then looked up at the clock and gestured them both back to the center. "Now that you've finished dancing around like it's the damn senior prom, would the two of you mind actually hitting one another for a change, please?" he asked sarcastically, taking a step back as the bell rang to start the second round.

Both X-Men seemed to take his words to heart, wasting little time circling one another and instead moving in to spar once more. Ororo grew more confident as she and Scott traded punches - she was beginning to see a pattern to his movements. They kept up the increased pace through the second round, trading blow for blow. In the third, after he threw a glancing blow at her left shoulder she feinted the other way, intending to let his next hook fly straight past her. Much to her surprise, the expected blow came from the other direction, connecting soundly with her upper cheek and making her head spin. She was made of tougher stuff than that, however, and she managed to move out of range while she waited for the mat to stop tilting under her.

"That was different," she muttered finally, tucking her chin close to her chest as she warily moved in again towards him.

"I hate to be predictable. Well. I'm tired of being predictable?" He closed with her again, but took advantage of his longer reach and stayed just out of hers, landing another couple of solid punches, the second of which sent her staggering again. The yells from the crowd covered his next comment, which in any case was meant only for Ororo's ears. "That one was for making me wonder with that comment about how Remy snores." He grinned at her, absolutely no edge to the words and nothing in his eye but the glee of a man who knew he was in for it now.

Summers! With renewed energy Ororo shook off the blows and moved in again, somehow managing to move close enough to hit him without suffering any more serious blows herself. Unbeknownst to him, there were different words echoing through her mind as she began to jab at him, leaving herself open as she aimed an uppercut at his chin. I will show you a 'mistake'. LeBeau...

He had the distinct, if fleeting impression that the woman currently whaling on him was thinking of someone else as she did it. Mostly because he knew that look, from various times that he'd caught her beating the crap out of a punching bag while visualizing a bad date or a worse professor. The impression was fleeting because he didn't have all that much time to mull it over, given that he was having to focus on defending himself.

She was leaving herself open, though. Scott focused on blocking, and waiting for the perfect opening. When he saw it he took it, and pushed her back across the ring, his expression set, even if the hint of a smile was still there.

Ororo had to hand it to Nathan - there was something incredibly helpful about this sort of physical activity, even if the person you were hitting wasn't precisely the person you wanted to hit. The quick surge of emotion died down soon enough as Scott began to pressure her back against the ropes, and she concentrated once more on keeping up her defense and getting shots in when she could. They could've gone on for quite some time that way, trading the upper hand, but before they knew it Cain was shouting that the match was finished.

Cain smiled, giving both fighters a quick look while they slid the gloves off. "Judging by aggressiveness, decisive punches landed, all that hoo-hah, the all-seeing computer says..." He looked down at his communicator, large fingers punching at the faceplate. "Cyclops, sixty. Storm, sixty..."

He looked over just in time to see Scott start to crack a smile, before finishing.

"...one. Sixty to sixty-one, boss-lady takes it."



--



Marie had sat quietly through the first couple of bouts, just watching what other people did. The whole idea was interesting, but she didn’t know about calling someone out on the spot – after all, they’d still have to deal with each other the next day. If only there was someone she could call out without worrying about that, just to get her warmed up to the idea. Casting a glance at the man sitting next to her, a grin slowly crept its way across her face.

Poking Logan in the ribs, she winked at him. “So old man, think you can handle a bit of action? Or is it past your bedtime?”

Logan snorted with amusement and stood up. "Kid, the day you put me to bed is the day that'll never come." he said with a laugh. "You want a hurtin', I'll oblige." He made his way down to the ring with more than a bit of swagger, ditching his shirt as he walked.

Hopping up, she quickly followed him, easily floating up and over the ropes to land lightly on her feet in the ring. "Don't be so sure of yourself," she teased. "They say that pride comes before a fall."

"Crazy God talk isn't going to save you from a beating." he said with a grin as he shadowboxed a bit to warm up. Then he taped his own hands (out of habit, he didn't need the protection) and then crammed them into a pair of gloves.

"You two been watching enough to know the rules, no funny stuff, break when I tell you," Cain looked back and forth between Marie and Logan, sizing the both of them up, then giving a shrug. "Keep everything above the belt, let's not waste time prancing and dancing around. Go!" he suddenly barked, stepping back as the bell sounded.

Marie immediately surged forward, knowing that she needed to come out of the gate swinging. Aiming a swift uppercut at Logan's jaw, she held back the full extent of her strength just in case he was able to dodge out of the way. No point in tripping herself up on the first attack.

Logan slapped her strike to one side and then ripped off a counter designed to mash her nose back against her skull. "Come on, kid, you always hold back like that?" he said, disgustedly. "It's a fight, we're not playing Patty-Cake here."

She didn't rise to his baited words, merely stepping to the side so his blow glanced off her shoulder instead of her head. At the same time that his fist connected, she sent another series of blows his way, first a short jab to the gut, followed quickly by right cross to the side of his head before bouncing backwards on the balls of her feet to get out of his reach.

Logan took the hits, tightening his gut muscles at the last moment to try to preserve his air. When he came back in he gave as good as he got. He tagged her once on the jaw, and then in her split-second of disorientation he hit her twice in the solar plexus.

Grunting as his jabs connected, she was light enough on her feet that none of the blows hit with the strength Logan had hoped for. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Marie slipped through his guard to land a cross against his ribcage, ignoring the crunch that followed. Letting out a relieved sigh when the bell rang to end the round, she retreated to her corner.

Cain crouched down by Logan, looking him over, watching as the small bruises along the shorter man's face healed in almost an eyeblink. Giving a small 'hmph', he walked over to Marie, who had nary a scratch on her. "Looks like the two of you gotta hit pretty hard to get anything done, so how about it? Show 'em how it's done." Returning to the center of the ring, Cain twirled a finger to signal for the bell that would start the second round.

Logan shot out of his corner as if fired by a cannon. Time to quit screwing around. He ripped off attack after attack on Marie, using his superior skill and tenacity to weave past her defenses to score hits. He took more than a few in return from her, but it was worth it to maybe give her some decorations. Something in green-and-blue, perhaps.

He may have been connecting, but Marie was barely feeling the hits. And though Logan's body was healing from the bruises, Marie's wasn't even forming them in the first place. Quickening her pace, she rained blow after blow on the man in front of her, finally shooting out a hit strong enough to lift him from his feet and land him halfway across the ring.

Holy shit, Cain thought to himself, holding up a hand to keep Marie at a distance while he took a step towards Logan. But before he could extend a hand, Logan shook his head and practically leaped back up to his feet. Cain just shrugged and stepped back, holding his hands out. "Clean hit, get back in there, runt."

Logan leaped back at Marie, not holding anything back save for his claws and a true killing rage. As it always did his conscious mind checked out and his instincts took over. Natural or something that Bill Stryker cooked up in a lab - Logan was just glad he had 'em. He wanted to put her on her ass. The other thing he wanted he told himself he couldn't have and didn't want. He could take her. He knew he could.

Sliding out of the way, Marie jabbed Logan's midsection as he rushed past, twirling to meet him head on as he halted his mad rush and spun to face her. The pair continued exchanging hits, almost blow for blow, until the bell signaling the end of the second round sounded.

Shaking his head, Cain chuckled out loud as he watched both of the fighters regain their bearings as they separated and walked to their corners. Both of them looked flustered, unable to get anything decisive in on the other. Never guess they used to be all over each other when I first got here, Cain thought, leaning back against one of the ringposts. When the bell for the third round rang, he merely pointed both of them to the center, feigning an exaggerated yawn. "Make it interesting, kids, any slower and cobwebs'd grow on the both of you."

Not allowing herself to spend time glaring at their referee, it was Marie's turn to explode out of her corner. She finally felt warmed up to the exercise and added more power to each of her punches, moving past thinking about what she was doing to just doing it. She and Logan stood locked in the center of the ring, each connecting hit after hit, then coming back for more.

Logan ducked whatever he could duck, and blocked what he couldn't duck. Finally, he saw an opening. With every ounce of force he could muster, he shot an uppercut at her jaw that landed maybe a quarter-inch low. When she jerked back from the throat-shot, Logan unloaded a quick one-two on her face that kept her backpedaling.

The next blow didn't land, as Cain's massive hand interposed itself, catching Logan's glove before it could make contact with Marie's midsection. Stepping in between the fighters, Cain glanced briefly over his shoulder at Marie before looking down at Logan. "You and I both know kidney shots ain't called for here. When you're fightin' for your life, sure. But you're approaching danger close to that line, runt, and you cross it and we're gonna have a repeat of the last time you and I tusseled in here. Go sit a spell and catch your breath, I'm sure we ain't short of people wanting to knock the shit out of you."

He raised his voice, looking over Logan's head. "Rogue takes this one on a disqualification," he boomed, looking over at the young woman. "You go sit a spell, and if you two play nice, maybe you can finish this one later, yeah?"

Logan was about to protest - loudly - but the swallowed it and nodded. Time and place, and this wasn't it. Jerking his head towards Rogue, he climbed silently out of the ring and yanked the gloves off his hands.

Ah coulda taken the shot. Cain knows that. Raising an eyebrow at him, Marie looked like she was about to say something. Glancing at Logan's retreating back, she changed her mind and followed him out of the ring instead. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. Now he'd never let her hear the end of things.


--



Scott rubbed at his jaw, watching the action in the ring as well as the reactions of the 'audience'. It was having the desired effect, he thought, their fight night. There was less tension in the room than there would have been prior to this opportunity to vent frustrations, and hell, the night was barely started.

Kurt watched Marie and Logan's bout reach its untimely end, then turned speculative eyes on Scott. He hadn't been quite sure what to make of what he'd heard had happened in Tibet, but he hadn't much liked it either way. Custody was one thing, but to actively leave anyone in the 'care' of a government known to torture prisoners... that wasn't what they were about.

One-eyed or not, Scott did have a sense of when he was being watched. The awareness dawned on him slowly, but once he realized who was doing the watching... he wasn't at all surprised. They might not have made an official report on the trip to Tibet, but it wasn't like they'd kept all the details secret.

Kurt nodded to him, glancing at the ring, and came to the decision. He stood up. "I would like to call out Scott."

Scott exchanged a look with Jean, then rose. Well, good thing I hadn't bothered untaping my hands just yet... He'd thought he might get called back up at some point, although he hadn't hazarded a guess as to who might be doing the calling. Maybe he should have expected this. Pulling on his gloves, he climbed into the ring.

Kurt was already there, calmly taping his hands, extra-large gloves ready to one side. "Hello, Scott."

"Kurt. Should I ask?"

"Certainly. If you cannot guess."

Scott merely smiled, resignedly, and took up his position at the center of the ring. Kurt was ready quickly, and as Cain started the fight, Scott discovered just as quickly that Logan wasn't the only one with certain natural physical advantages.

Not by a long way - Kurt might not have a healing factor, but he was a dancer and an acrobat and had been taught a long time ago how to press full advantage out of his natural agility and grace. He was almost spinning around Scott, especially since the other man was still stiff, landing a blow then seeming to disappear even without teleporting.

Scott could hit harder, when he did manage to land a hit, but that wasn't nearly as often as Kurt. He concentrated on the other man's movements, however, determined to get at least a few good hits of his own in. Kurt might be angry, but, understanding what had led to Kurt's decision in Chicago or not, Scott wasn't entirely sanguine about it either.

He wasn't teleporting at all - regardless of anger, he wasn't about to break the few simple rules laid down here. So it was relatively easy for Scott to track him, as opposed to if he'd been using his powers.

"I didn't put her on the plane for China, you know," Scott grated under his breath when they wound in up close. "She put herself there."

Kurt gave him a tight smile, matching the low voice. "I never said you did. But you left her there unconscious. You know she is wanted here, if you had brought her back."

"And she deserved rescuing why, Kurt?"

"Because we are not just talking of leaving her to be arrested, are we, Scott? You know the reputation the Chinese have. Is this how we deal with our enemies now?"

Cain was calling the round, and Scott retreated to his corner without answering. Thirty seconds later, he came back out, far more aggressively. He wasn't sure who he was angry at, Kurt or himself, but there were plenty of reasons, either way.

Kurt was outwardly calm, but he was pressing the attack far more actively than usual in sparring - his typical method was more defence-heavy, but not today. "You did not answer my question", he said the first time they came close enough to speak.

Scott's next punch landed in Kurt's ribs, solidly. "I didn't see any need to save your mother from herself," he hissed. The noise from the audience was covering the conversation; maybe Cain was picking up a bit of it, maybe not.

The punch had been solid, but possibly not solid enough to make it strictly necessary to double over that far. It did put Kurt in perfect position to speak straight in Scott's ear, though. "She could have saved herself, from what I hear, after you took back the Rose. If you had not left her helpless for the Chinese to find. Or you could have brought her to the custody of those who do not regularly practise torture."

No sooner was the last word out of his mouth than Scott's fist was slamming into his jaw, followed up by another flurry of blows that pushed Kurt onto the defensive and into an actual retreat. Scott's jaw was clenched in what didn't look quite like anger, or at least not entirely.

Kurt worked his jaw slowly as he tried to find ground to hold to fight back from, smiling strangely. Finally, he started to push back out of the retreat, with the quick low comment, "That hit a nerve, did it? Good."

Kurt could be just a little self-righteous at times, he really could. Scott lunged at him grimly, the two of them winding up far more tangled up than was appropriate for a boxing match. Still, even though he knew he should be backing off, Scott didn't. Made it much easier to hit Kurt, up close like this, and Kurt seemed to feel the same way...

"And back it off, boys!" Cain pushed his way between the two men. He wasn't exactly sure what in the hell the two of them had that started this, but if it was enough to get Scott somewhat rattled and Kurt angry... well, as angry as the little German got, anyway. Lightly but firmly, he gave the two of them a shove towards the corner, then walked over to Kurt. Unable to tell if the blue-skinned mutant was bruised with the tone of his skin, Cain just gave him a cursory inspection, somewhat unsettled by the stern determination in those yellow eyes.

Walking over to Scott, he noticed that his team leader was starting to show the effects of the multiple rounds. "You still good to go?" At the answering nod, Cain just nodded back and stepped away. "Your funeral," he muttered, signaling for the bell.

Kurt waited for the signal before stepping forward out of his corner, raising a challenging eyebrow at Scott as he kept moving, step by careful step. He was bruised, and could feel them, but he wasn't about to let that stop the fight before the third round.

Scott went on the offensive again immediately, and part of him was realizing that his reaction to all of this clearly meant that he was not okay with the decision he hadn't actually consciously made in Tibet. Like hell was he saying that to Kurt, though. Or Jean. He wasn't going to second-guess, to angst, not on Mystique's behalf. After everything she's done, he wants me to be SORRY for leaving her to reap what she fucking sowed?

Stiff and sore or not, Scott pressed the attack even harder, concerned with nothing but landing as many solid hits on the other man as he could. He wasn't thinking about winning the bout, just keeping Kurt too occupied to talk. Or to give him that steadily accusing look.

Kurt was giving as good as he got, right now, and no longer cared about winning either. He wouldn't have had this problem, he told himself, if Mystique had just been brought to face trial for what she'd done, or if the X-Men had simply stopped her doing what she'd had in mind... but to knock her unconscious and leave her in the hands of torturers? That wasn't what the X-Men were supposed to be about.

He was still keeping to the rules, but apart from that, he was trying everything he could to land a blow.

They were both giving as good as they got. Kurt was landing more hits, but Scott's were harder. Neither of them were particularly holding back, although they were keeping within the rules. Cheating would mean Cain stepping in, and neither of them wanted that just yet.

They were in close again all at once. A punch of Scott's got around Kurt's guard and into his ribs, and Scott started to step back, to put a little distance between himself and Kurt again and make use of his longer reach.

Kurt stepped forward instinctively, both to keep Scott from gaining that advantage and to try to press his own - being shorter, he had an easier time of it in close quarters in this fight. Under his breath, he said for them only, "I did not think you would ever be the person to leave anyone in their hands. Even my mother."

A painfully cold shock went through Scott at Kurt's words and the unmistakable emphasis. It had taken all of his self-control to respond calmly to the same thing coming from Jean, when they'd talked about it. To come up with the rationalization. It was not a feat he could duplicate right here and now. So instead of responding... he froze. Just for a moment, but it was enough.

Enough for Kurt to land one solid punch to Scott's midsection, with all his weight behind it - and though he was relatively short, he had a fair amount of muscle mass, so that weight was not inconsiderable.

Scott doubled over, managing one staggering step back before his knees gave out and he went down. For a moment or two all he could do was fight for air - getting up was not in the cards, even though he knew this probably meant Cain would call the fight. Maybe that was okay, though, part of him thought. Maybe Kurt deserved the knockout, all things considered. He looked up at the other man, the set, angry look he'd been wearing for most of the fight replaced by something more confused, shame and a sick awareness that Kurt was absolutely right.

Kurt looked down at him, standing absolutely still, the wind taken out of his sails by Scott's expression. A moment of silently studying his friend - and this was his friend - later, he leaned down and offered a hand to help Scott up, still not speaking.

After a moment, Scott took it, letting Kurt pull him back to his feet. Still reeling, he would have gone right back down if Kurt hadn't grabbed his other arm, keeping him on his feet. It had the fringe benefit of giving them one last moment to talk, unheard by the audience - which was still abuzz, although the tenor of that buzz had changed as the fight had gone on.

"I'm sorry," Scott wheezed, still fighting for air. "We'll.. talk, okay?"

Kurt nodded quickly, holding the other man up and leaning on him just a little in turn - his bruises were definitely starting to make themselves felt. "We will. Soon."

"Aw, cripes, hug it out somewhere else, ladies," Cain grumbled, holding the ropes open for the two men. "I swear, whatever happened to just punching out aggression? All right!" he raised his voice to the X-Men still assembled. "Who's next?"


--




Logan wiped the sweat off his face as he relaxed on one of the holographic bleachers. Behind him, Marie kneaded her superstrong fingers into his shoulder muscles, trying to get them to relax a little. Whoever came up with this little brainstorm had a great idea - he hadn't had this much fun in ages. "Was a good match, kid." he told his masseusse with a grin. "Even if I did get shafted on that last call. Had your ass beat and you know it."

Nathan had been rather enjoying the night - it was nice to see his idea working, and he thought it was, given how everyone was getting into it. He was starting to get twitchy, though. Especially since he did have a grudge or two himself...

"Hey, Peaches," he called to Logan, remembering the derisive name he'd come up with for the other man in one particular acrimonious conversation - fair was fair, after all, and Logan had needed a nickname too. The previous pair was vacating the ring, which meant that if he didn't do something he'd be stuck sitting here through yet another fight. "Still recovering from getting your ass kicked by yet another little girl?" Marie would forgive him for the joke - or call him out on it, and hey, either way...

Logan wasn't about to let that slide. "You want a piece of me, Cupcake?" he said with a grin, letting the towel around his shoulders fall onto Marie behind him. "You got it." He popped his neck with the usual set of horrific grinding metallic noises as he made his way down to the ring. His hands were still taped from his match against Marie, so he wasted no time cramming his hands into the gloves and sliding into the ring. Just like old times - all the Danger Room needed was the smell of Canadian beer, tobacco, and bitterly cold winds outside. While he waited for the bigger man to get his crap straightened out he bounced on his toes and shadowboxed the air.

"Full of himself, isn't he?" Nathan asked Cain as he stepped into the ring after donning gloves and doing a few quick stretches. He was remembering what Moira had said to him when he'd told her about the evening's events, however, and a few moments of concentration accomplished what was necessary, a partial exoskeleton around his chest. Maybe it was cheating, but if he wound up with any damaged ribs out of this he would probably be sleeping on the couch for the rest of the decade.

Cain looked down at the two men. "Okay, boys," he announced, motioning for the two of them to approach, "you know the rules. Either of you goes crazy, I knock you upside the head and then I let Amelia go to work on you. Nate, no reading the runt's mind. Runt, no more treating this like it's whatever ass-end Kackalackee dive bar you're used to scrapping in. Other than that, kick the shit out of each other." Cain gave each of them a once-over look then a nod. "Hit it."

The second Cain said "Hit it." Logan threw the first punch. Strong, classic right cross, aimed right for that made-for-deflecting-uppercuts thing Nathan called a jaw. He followed that up with a jab that was meant to spread Nathan's nose across his face like devilled ham. Or, at least, that was the thought. Seems Nathan had jumped off the mark as well with a short right hook that nailed Logan in the temple as his own fist was connecting with Nathan's jaw. The impact jarred him enough that his jab went wild.

A little over-eager, both of them, Nathan thought, shaking his head doggedly. He'd forgotten that Logan used to do this for a living, if you could call it that. Still, he didn't have the reach that Nathan himself did, and Nathan was so going to use that to his advantage.

Logan just grinned at Nathan as he shrugged off the shot he'd been given. Time to put his strengths to use - he was more agile and far tougher than Nathan was, along with an edge in sheer physical strength. Nathan was slowing down and getting old, after all, and spent too much time riding a desk rather than working out. Still, Nathan was devious and had a goodly bit of reach on him, so the answer was stick-and-move. And he did have those matchstick ribs - it was time to start capitalizing on that. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he circled Nathan, not giving the other man a clean opportunity to take a shot. What punches Nathan did throw Logan either took on his forearms or sidestepped entirely. Let the big man wear himself down - it wasn't like Logan would get tired. Logan saw his chance and then took it - sidestepping away from one of Nathan's punches, he floated up close and took a shot at those tasty little ribs.

The punch connected with the invisible - well, he hadn't been planning to advertise the fact that he was cheating (just a little) - shield around Nathan's ribs, and Nathan took advantage of Logan coming in that close to land a solid punch or three in return in a quick combination. While he wasn't as fast as Logan, he was fast for someone his size, and Logan had just given him a lovely little opening there.

Logan got the Hell out of Dodge - Nathan had made him pay for that shot to the ribs. "Hey, ref! Cupcake's cheating here! Using his teek to give himself body-armor." To Nathan, he just grinned around his mouthguard. "If you can't take a hit, Cupcake, go sit down with the little girls and leave the ring to the men." he taunted.

"You think that tin-plated skull of yours ain't cheating?" Cain replied sharply, "Don't matter if he uses what he's got, he ain't using it on you, is he? Suck it up and hit harder." He glanced over at Nathan, then shrugged. "If he breaks, he breaks."

"I don't got a choice about the bones." he growled. Seems that Cain had it in for him and wouldn't cut him a break for love or money. That's the way he wanted to play? So be it. Logan danced in and out of Nathan's reach, capitalizing on his speed to tag Nathan twice more - once to those shielded ribs and once to Nathan's jaw. In return, he only took one blow, and that one glancing at best.

"You whine a lot. Have I ever told you that?" Nathan sacrificed distance for getting in up close and personal again. He took a couple of punches for his pains, but he also dished out a few, and the exchange was more than worth it, as far as he was concerned. "Let's all feel sorry for Logan," he said, breathing hard as they both backed away for a moment. "Because he's had a life what, ten times as hard as the rest of us combined?"

If Nathan wanted to waste his breath jawin' Logan was more than happy to let him flap his gums. He advanced and kept the pressure on - the idea being to not give Nathan a chance to recover, to catch his breath, to get his feet back under him. Push him, keep him off-balance, keep him reeling. Keep the pain on until the other man broke. If he took hits, well, they didn't matter. All that mattered was getting in and hurting Nathan. Punishing him, in a way, for his words. His ideals. His being.

Someone's really missing the point of this whole evening, isn't he? Nathan concentrated on the fight - he didn't have the breath to spare for banter at this point. He was older and slower, and not the natural brawler Logan was. But he also wasn't going to back down. He didn't do that for anyone.

Finally! A vicious hook that landed on Nathan's cheek cut the other man open, and the scent of blood was almost orgasmic to Logan. Logan wanted to see more of it. He concentrated his attacks to Nathan's head - now that blood was in the air, it was only a matter of time. Nathan was going down, and the Wolverine would stand triumphant. Nathan was hurting - he could see it in the slight involuntary flinches as his fists landed, hear it in Nathan's labored breathing. Just to keep Nathan honest he sent a few sledgehammer-like blows to Nathan's shielded ribs - make him spend the energy to keep them protected.

Water against a stone.

"Break!" Cain bellowed, sticking a hand between both men. "Corners, catch a breather. If you're still good to go, thirty seconds."

Logan retreated to his corner and sat himself down on the provided stool. He grabbed a towel from Marie and mopped his brow with it, then washed his mouth out with the proffered water-bottle. Spitting the water into the bucket, he just stared at Nathan. Waiting. Anticipating.

Nathan staggered a little as he went back to his corner, and wasn't at all surprised to see Amelia there waiting for him. She had an odd little smile playing on her lips that would probably have disturbed the kids to no end - the doctor was very definitely enjoying herself - but gave him a serious look, clearly sizing up what state he was in as she saw to the cut on his face. He saw the implicit question and shook his head. Nowhere near done yet...

Thirty seconds wasn't much of a breather, but he came out of the corner with a vengeance when Cain called the next round. Call it a second wind, call it whatever, but as far as he was concerned they were just warming up. He went right in close, hammering Logan with punch after punch, focusing on landing them precisely where he meant to, with as much force as he could manage. And if he needed incentive, remembering weeks of hobbling around while his leg healed worked just fine.

Logan kept that same intensity when the bell rang to start the round. He met Nathan in the middle of the ring, trading blow for blow, keeping the pain on. Nathan was hitting hard, but he wasn't exactly handing out love-taps either. Nathan cut him open, then did it again, but the cuts healed themselves in seconds. In exchange, he added some more decorations to Nathan's growing collection - he reopened the cut on his face as well as giving him just above his right eye. With luck, it'd foul his vision with blood and give Logan another advantage.

Nathan's only reaction was to back away for a moment, wiping in apparent irritation at the blood with one gloved hand. He was breathing hard, but not raggedly, despite the growing stitch in his side. His gray eyes were still locked on Logan, absolutely steady and coldly angry. In the next moment, he was closing with Logan, somehow managing a combination of punches harder and faster than anything he'd come up with so far in the fight, as if he was spitting in the face of his own fatigue. It was more than satisfying to see Logan stagger backwards and go down, if briefly. Would have been better to see him stay down, but Nathan would take what he could get, especially since Cain was calling another break.

He turned to head back to his corner, catching himself on the ropes as the ring seemed to tilt around him for a moment. Mind over matter only went so far.

Each labored breath of Nathan's was music to Logan's ears. Nathan was wearing down, draining away. Even that last rush was the dying gasps of a man who was gassing out. Too quickly, Cain called the round and Logan obediently backed off to return to his corner. He had it over Nathan now. He could feel it. Nathan's stumble just proved it.

Cain stepped in the middle, nodding to Logan to signify the smaller man's victory. This one was over. He knelt down, lifting Nathan's chin with a hand. "Yeah, your wife's going to kill you. Probably me for letting you step in here like a kid half your age. Tell the truth, though," he said quietly, "I didn't figure you'd stay up past the first round."

Nathan mustered up a smile, catching Amelia moving in out of the corner of his eye. "Worth it," he said, coughing. It was the diminished lung capacity that got him at times like this, really. "Besides," he said once he caught his breath, "he knows damned well I could smear him all over the ceiling if I really wanted to." And it had felt good, proving to the man that he could go toe-to-toe with him on his own ground, too. I might be getting old, but I haven't lost it all just yet...

Logan had to fight the urge to howl his victory to all and sundry. Instead, he grinned ferally at Nathan and slid out of the ring, showing no sign of the beating he'd just taken. He got Marie to take his gloves off, then he walked back into the stands while flexing his fingers. His hands itched - his claws itched, but Logan kept them where they belonged.

Patting Nathan on the shoulder, Cain pointed over to those still waiting around. "Logan's one and one. Who's next?"



--



Nathan was moderately grateful that Amelia was a fair bit stronger than she looked, because if she hadn't grabbed him at just the right moment he'd have done a truly spectacular faceplant, trying to get out of the ring. She tsked at him and steered him towards one of the empty seats.

"I'm fine-"

"You're tottering," she corrected him, pushing him down and then taking his chin in one hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"None."

"Well, at least you're not badly concussed."

Angelo chose this moment to appear, settling on the top of the next seat over with his feet hanging down. "What's the damage?" he asked, possibly not as lightly as he'd meant to.

"I'm fine."

"Then try focusing for me," Amelia said, only the faintest edge of mockery to her voice. "Or at the very least uncrossing your eyes. What precisely possessed you, Nathan? I just can't wait to hear what your wife says about this."

"Shrew."

"Yeah, an' I'm a brat. Nathan, I know you can still do combat an' all that, but against a guy with metal bones an' an instant healin' factor, when you're not allowed to use your TK? Maybe not so much."

Nathan burst into a fit of coughing, maybe due to an attempted vehement answer to that, maybe not, and Amelia shook her head at him. "It was a fairly decent fight, you must admit," she said to Angelo, that funny little smile back on her lips. "The points were not overly lopsided."

"Thank you," Nathan wheezed at her.

"Well, there is that. But Logan still had too many advantages, an' I know he couldn't not use them, but..." He turned to glower in the general direction of the ring.

Oh, I know that look... "I seem to recall," Nathan said with as much dignity as he could muster with Amelia tsking at him as she took a closer look at his cuts, "you grumbling about our noble teammate a while back, too. Something to do with the self-defense class?"

That got dark muttering including the words 'not a kid' and finally a grudging, "Yeah."

"Well, go to town, Sancho," Nathan said, gesturing with one still-taped hand at where Logan was sitting in the stands, still clearly enjoying his victory. "Anyone's fair game, remember?"

Angelo turned to look at Logan, then grinned slowly and not at all pleasantly. "Why the hell not. Let's see who's had second-rate teachin'."

Logan, oblivious to the byplay between Nate and Angelo, leaned back in his bleacher seat and vigorously towelled himself off from his exertions in beating Nate's butt into the canvas. Marie was off chatting with some of the kids, so he got up, still towelling himself off, and climbed down to drop off his sweaty towel and get some Gatorade for himself.

That was about as much of a break as he was going to get, as Angelo hopped down off his perch into the next row of bleachers and announced loudly, "I want to call out Logan."

Logan, mid-drink of Gatorade, nearly spit it out in surprise. "Pick on someone who won't destroy you, kid." he catcalled back. "It's healthier for you in the long run."

"That you refusin' the challenge, Logan?" was the response. "Come on, you're not scared, are you?"

"Hey Nate - is the kid's insurance paid up?" he catcalled to Nate as he walked over to the ring, grabbing a fresh pair of boxing gloves and pulling them onto his hands. He slid into the ring effortlessly and then looked at Angelo. "It's your funeral." he told Angelo in a quieter voice.

Angelo vaulted down and started his own preparations. "Stick to the rules, an' it won't be," he answered calmly. "I'm not Nathan."

"No, you're not." he said, then turned to the crowd. "I got $50 that says this goes one round. Any takers?" he grinned, then turned back to Angelo. "You got that action, pup?" he teased.

"Three rounds", Angelo said firmly, unsmiling. "I might not win, but I'll last it out." He wasn't looking at Nathan now.

"You're on." he said, retreating to his corner to wait for Cain to begin the round formally. This was going to be a cakewalk for him -he'd already dropped a bad call to Marie and been to war with Nate. This was going to be easy. For a second, Logan almost felt bad for Angelo.

Almost.

Angelo just walked back to his own corner, face set and determined. He knew he wasn't winning this one, but at least, he told himself, he was going to walk away from it.

Cain shook his head, barely sparing each fighter a glance. If the kid wanted to get his ass beat, it was his call. "All right, come out swinging. Logan, try and leave something to identify the kid by?" he added sotto voce, then stepped back at the sound of the bell.

"Match DNA against the smear on my fist." he said, equally sotto voce, before coming out towards Angelo. Way he was figuring it this could be over in two hits - he hits Angelo, Angelo hits the floor. And this was the wet-behind-the-ears brat who got tapped to take his class from him?

The fight hadn't even started yet, and Angelo was not only a former streetfighter, he was an X-Men trainee. Logan might just have a little bit more of a fight on his hands than anticipated, if only because he wasn't anticipating one at all. Angelo came out of his corner to meet the other man.

Logan met Angelo's advance in the time-honored boxing tradition -a strong jab to Angelo's nose. Time to see how fast this kid was.

Not fast enough to avoid that one, for all it was the predictable first blow. He didn't fall, though, just wiped the blood from his nose and grinned. Then aimed a hard punch of his own at Logan's midsection. Avoid the bones.

One hit and first blood was his. Yeah, this one wasn't going past one round. The blow to his midsection he avoided by stepping out of the way and he ripped a counterpunch back at Angelo's bloody nose.

First blood didn't necessarily mean a win - Logan, after all, had been expecting this to be over in two hits. This time, Angelo did duck out of the way - he was short, which was an advantage used the right way, and slipped in close for another shot.

Huh. Kid wasn't totally oblivious. That was promising. He kept moving, denying Angelo a clean shot at either his midsection or his face. To keep the kid honest he threw the occasional hook or jab whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Some of them connected, others not, but Angelo stayed on his feet throughout - and there were fewer opportunities than might have been expected, if he was really all that wet behind the ears. He wasn't bad at guarding, and most of the openings came when he struck out.

At least the kid could spell the word defense. Maybe his pups in the class wouldn't be completely defenseless. But he didn't center well when attacking - he had a nasty habit of leaving himself wide-open. Time to start capitalizing on that. "You hit like a girl," he taunted. "I mean, come on, is that all you have? Go back to being the cupcake's minder. Leave the yard to the dogs."

"The cupcake managed two rounds against you", Angelo snarled back, circling. "And he's twice my age. Think you've seen all I've got already?"

"Yep." he said and then stepped up to the offensive. A flurry of punches aimed for Angelo's head and body rained down like a bloody parade of pain. Time to quit screwing around.

Angelo was in full agreement with this sentiment - he couldn't avoid all the punches, but he could keep his head down and drive some hits of his own into Logan's face and belly while he had him in range.

Logan rode out the few hits Angelo was able to dish out in favor of standing and delivering some pain of his own. He was practically cowering already under the force of Logan's attack. Even with all the extra skin Logan suspected Angelo would be black-and-blue come morning.

Almost certainly - but he'd had worse than bruises. He straightened slightly even under the onslaught, determined not to give in so easily and to push back as much as he could.

Logan was having None of That. If Angelo pushed, Logan pushed back. Keep the punches coming, overwhelm the kid. He couldn't block everything, and each one that slipped through meant that this farce would be over that much more quickly.

No, he had no chance of blocking everything. But if Logan was hitting, that was one hand he couldn't use to block, and Angelo knew about using openings. He was determined to make this last as long as possible, three rounds if he could. He'd said so, after all... though it might be about time to call the first round.

Time was getting short, which meant it was time to put this kid down on the canvas. He snuck an uppercut through Angelo's defenses, then followed it with a left-right-left combination aimed at the kid's already-bloody face. Logan wanted him down, if not out completely, so he was giving every punch everything he had.

That got through, driving him to his knees, though he was still conscious -and even tried to get up, after a few dazed moments.

Cain was right in there, kneeling in between Angelo and Logan, holding a hand out to halt Logan, who just bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You want to call this one, kid?" Cain asked Angelo quietly. "Because you're getting murdered in here. Putting up a hell of a fight, but listen to me, you ain't got a chance in hell. Trying to prove something?"

Angelo looked up at him, wiping blood out of his eyes, then glanced past at Logan, who didn't have a scratch on him now if he ever had had. "Tryin' to prove some things", he said wryly. "But I guess walkin' away's the best I'm gonna do."

Logan just bounced easily on the balls of his feet, waiting for the judge's decision. If he called it, Logan walked away the winner. If the fight continued, he'd have Angelo laid out in a matter of seconds. Either way, he could live with that.

The bell rang, and Cain just shook his head, helping Angelo to his feet. "I think the unanimous decision on this one goes to Logan, no question." He looked down at Angelo and gave a small chuckle as he shook his head. "You got guts, kid. Ain't got no idea where your brain is, but guts'll do."

Logan took a victory lap around the ring, then slid out to remove his gloves and get a towel and some Gatorade. He was thirsty and he wanted to get the sweat out of his eyes.

Angelo just grinned up at him, painfully and bloodily, and started limping towards the edge of the ring. "Not bein' carried out. Think I'll call that a win in its way."




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Don't go anywhere, ladies and gentlemen! After a short intermission we'll return to the Danger Room at 1407 Greymalkin Lane for part two of Boxing Night! Stay tuned!