Boxing Night, Round Two

[x-juggernaut.livejournal.com]

As promised, ladies and gentlemen, Boxing Night continues without a moment to catch your breath!



"You know, I really don't see any value in this." Garrison said flatly, his voice somewhat muffled by his collar being up around his nose. Marie was holding him by the front of his shirt, hoisted several feet in the air. Kane just hung there, looking affronted as he addressed the room at large.

"I mean, did anyone bother to look at her powers? Invulnerable. That means immune to harm. So what the hell is the point of a cage match with the invulnerable person? Obviously she's going to win. Why? Immune to harm." He would have put his hands of his hips if he hadn't have been dangling there off her fist. "I mean, why not set me up against Summers at either end of a really long featureless hallway?"

"Well, you shoulda thoughta that before you called me out here," Marie drawled, a wide grin almost splitting her face in two. Tossing him across the ring, she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "You could at least try or something."

"First off, I didn't call you out here. I was tricked into this, by you, and more and more intentionally, I think." Garrison got to his feet and walked over, unlacing his gloves and dropping them into the corner. He could hit Marie with a car before it hurt her, so the gloves seemed a little pointless. "I mean, what are my opinions? I can have Dayspring, who can just put up a TK wall, same with Dr. Grey. There's the magnokinetic, the teleporter, and the guy with the invulnerable blast shield. About the only one I've got is Angelo, who decided to let the adamantium laced healing factor buffed psychotic beat nine kinds of crap out of him. I only know six types of crap at this point."

He shrugged, standing face to face with her. "So let's get this over with," he said, suddenly raising his foot and stomping down hard on her toe.

Marie had been about to sweetly remind him that this was no powers boxing when his foot made contact with hers. "You little..." she sputtered as she instinctively hunched over to grab at her foot, elbowing him in the stomach as she bent over.

Garrison huffed as the blow hit, but it barely stalled him. He'd already decided that since this wasn't a fair fight in the first place, there was absolutely no reason to fight fair.

"Barilko-fu." He said as he grabbed the hem of her jacket and yanked it up over her head, trapping both of her arms in the sleeves and her face inside the fabric. He held on grimly as she twisted, fight against on of the classic Canadian hockey fighting moves.

It was surprisingly effective. Garrison was strong enough that Marie couldn't just rip herself free without seeing what she was doing...that and the surprise of what he'd done left her struggling to free herself in the middle of the ring.

Cain just stood there, mouth open, completely stunned. He reached to call for the bell, then shrugged, folded his arms, and leaned back against one of the ringposts. Glancing out at the audience with a "what can you do?" gesture, he called out to the fighters. "Just keep it in the ring, kids. Gary, if the girl whips your ass, you know that means you buy drinks for everyone. Logan, too."

"The girl can benchpress an SUV!" Garrison didn't add that so could he. He held on to the hold, keeping Marie's head down and buried in the jacket. Since he was going to lose anyway, might as well lose with style.

Onehanded, he reached under the back of her shirt, where the jacket had been pulled up to expose, and struggled with Marie for a moment. He suddenly let go, allowing her to stagger back as he whipped his hand from under the back of her shirt, a cream coloured strapless bra dangling from his grip.

"Ole!"

In a burst of energy, Marie fought her way free of her jacket and stared at Garrison dumbstruck. Did he just...? Seriously? Garrison must have seen something click on her face because he suddenly took off, Marie barely a pace or two behind him. "Give it back!!! Give it back now! This isn't funny, Garrison! Stop!" she cried out as she chased him around the ring.

Garrison lapped the ring, holding the bra over his head and fluttering behind him like some bizarre flag. "For my next trick, we'll see exactly what my lovely assistant bought recently from Victoria Secret!" He was already a dead man. What was a few more nails in the coffin?

Cain held a hand over his face, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Best. Fight. Ever." he managed to chuckle, before stepping out of Garrison's way and avoiding an errant swing from Marie. "Hey now! I'd tell you to keep it clean, but I think Inspector Kane just made this one Anything Goes..."

Marie paused in her headlong dash to glare at Cain for a moment. "Ah'll get you later," she threatened, before returning to her chase of Garrison around the ring, who had now gained a hefty lead. Switching tactics, she cut across the ring, stretching out and managing to grab him by the belt. "Ah'm gonna kill you," she muttered through clenched teeth as she tried to reclaim possession of her bra. "Slowly. Painfully. And then Ah'm gonna revive you and do it again." Frustrated, she reacted with the first idea that came to mind.

"You're jus--YAOW!" Garrison's voice jumped a couple of notches in volume and octaves as Marie grabbed the back of his boxers and pulled up hard. Kane was yanked off his feet, eyes cross-eyed as she reefed on the underwear, very painfully rearranging his twig and berries into interesting new shapes.

She grabbed for the bra with her other hand, but despite the pain, he wouldn't release it. Instead, peering around his shoulder, he reached over with his other hand and grabbed her by the hair, painfully pulled her head to the side and against his in a painful tableau.

Marie's satisfied grin quickly disappeared as the Canadian yanked her hair. "Ow!" Narrowing her eyes, she pulled harder while at the same time struggling to break free of his grasp. This resulted in the pair tottering a few steps around the ring, both stubbornly refusing to let go.

"All right." Garrison said through clenched teeth. Her grip on his shorts was like iron, but every time she'd yank, so did he. They were locked into the position, unable to gain any advantage over the other. "What do you say we call this one a draw?"

Her eyes still locked on her bra that was in plain sight for the rest of the team, Marie felt she had no choice. "Fine. Cheater." The last word was under her breath as she slowly loosened her grip on him while Garrison did the same.

"Yeah, invulnerable girl and she says I cheat." Garrison muttered, a little painfully as he tried to shift his underwear (and gonads) back into their proper places. He handed over the bra to the fuming Marie. "By the way, if you want any help putting that back on, I can be a good sport and lend a hand."

Marie's cheeks, which had been flaming, reached supernova at that point. Seeing an opening, she kicked, though she was careful not to use her full strength as her booted foot made contact with his groin. Spinning around, she all but flew out of the ring towards the locker room. Pausing at the door, she looked back and almost felt guilty for the crumpled Canadian in the fetal position. Almost.

Kane decided to remain in the vaguely comforting position of being curled around his groin, at least until he stopped gulping with three Adam's Apples. He groaned, looking up from the floor to where Marie had disappeared and the rest of the X-Men were looking on with mixed expressions..

"I forgot Logan taught her that one." He groaned again. "Check please."




--



He had to be out of his mind. At this point in the night, he ought to be staying right where he was until the rest of the evening was done and he could go soak until oh, the New Year or thereabouts. But Scott was growingly aware of the fact that the night was wearing on, and if he didn't speak up soon, he wasn't going to get the chance to step into the ring with the first person who'd occurred to him when Ororo had broached that idea.

Might've been a better idea to challenge him up front. Rather than waiting until now. He was going to last two minutes, if he was lucky, in the shape that he was in now. But as he contemplated the idea of letting it slide, letting it go for tonight and passing up this opportunity, cold anger and something else, something calculating and indefinable, pushed out the fatigue and pain.

Scott hauled himself up off the bench, exchanging a look with Jean, who smiled faintly at him and then rose, heading for the door of the Danger Room without a word. Scott smiled crookedly after her, then turned his attention back to the ring, where the last bout was just coming to a close. Just beyond that, sitting and watching and looking far too pleased with himself, was Scott's next sparring partner.

"Logan!" he yelled, over the crowd. Which fell very abruptly quiet.

At the rate the night was going he wasn't going to be able to get fifteen minutes of downtime before the New Year. "You're dead on your feet, Scott. Go home, sleep it off. You do this and I'll put you down." he said, making no move towards the ring.

Scott moved for him. If there was one thing he'd learned how to do over the last few months, it was move like he didn't hurt when he did, and the smoothness with which he pulled himself up into the ring was a nearly seamless facade. "Come on," he said mockingly, pulling on his gloves. "Don't try and be the bigger man, Logan. It doesn't suit you."

"Hate to give Jeannie more work rehabbing your flabby ass." he said with a shrug, then he slowly stood up to make his way down to the ring. "But if you want to get destroyed I'm not going to stop you." he said with just the edge of a smirk.

"What I want to do, Logan, I can't do within the rules. So I'll take what I can get." Scott finished pulling his gloves on and then walked out to the center of the ring, looking at Cain instead of his soon-to-be-opponent.

"Ooh." Logan said, dancing around a bit. "Threats from the Big Boss Man." he said with a grin. Then he went to center ring to stare Scott in the eye. "You're going down." he told him in an absolutely flat voice. "I'm not going to hold back."

Cain smirked and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Now this was going to be fun. Everyone else so far had just been pussyfooting around, these two were liable to break each other.

"Okay, I don't think we're going to bother with points here, but when I tell you guys to break, you goddamn listen, yeah? I don't expect this little pissing match is gonna end here, but damned if you guys don't look like you're gonna give it your best. All right, keep it as clean as you can. Go."

Scott was throwing the first punch in the same instant, and it was aimed right at Logan's head. There was noise from the X-Men watching again, part of him registered dimly, but he didn't know what they were saying. It was a buzz in the background, that was it.

Logan even let him have it - it hurt, but not spectacularly. Looks like the Chief was getting a little flaccid as he got tired. His counterattack consisted of a sidestep and a hooking punch to Scott's blind side. Let him chew on that.

The punch connected and Scott reeled backwards a step, managing through sheer force of will not to go any farther. He shook his head and straightened, glaring at Logan for a moment before he lunged forward, closing with the other man. He didn't have enough left at this point in the night to keep up with him speedwise - if I ever did - so in close was the only way he was going to score a few hits of his own.

Logan kept moving, denying Scott the stand-up fight he so desperately wanted. Instead, he worked the ring, always circling to Scott's blind side, firing off punches whenever he thought he could get one through. Every so often he'd take a shot at Scott's stomach to keep him from cheating with his guard.

"What's wrong, Logan?" It came out sounding entirely too breathless, but there wasn't much he could do about that. "All this keeping your distance... did my wife take your balls with her when she left?"

"Couldn't find room in her purse after she took yours." Logan said easily, not winded in the slightest. "Amazing how you were psych-downchecked for so long but once Jeannie came back into things you were all hot to go. Makes us wonder if you're with the team or with her." He kept his spiralling assault up, always aiming for Scott's blind side. Keep those up and Scott'd be taking a nap in no time.

Scott just smiled and threw himself forward, actually glad Logan had said that aloud. He managed to close the gap between them, landing a close-to-perfect uppercut with far more force behind it than he'd thought himself capable of mustering at this point in the night.

Instead of continuing his pattern of stick-and-move, Logan rode out the uppercut and fired one of his own back at Scott. "Maybe she'll kiss that one and make it better for you." he taunted. "Since you like hiding behind her skirt so much."

"I think we'd all buy that so much more if we didn't all know that was precisely where you wanted to be, Logan." He didn't bother keeping his voice down.

"Behind her skirt? No." he said with a grin and another shot aimed squarely for Scott's face. "I don't hide behind skirts." Another hook at Scott's blind eye. "Maybe she'd be happier with me." Uppercut to Scott's jaw. "A real man." Body-blow.

His arm felt like lead weights - painful lead weights, but before Scott quite knew what he was doing, he'd not only raised them, but ripped off a startlingly fast combination of punches. All three of which landed, and landed hard, enough to send Logan back a step or two.

"Speak up," he wheezed in the moment that bought him. "I don't think the rest of our team heard you."

"All right!" Cain said as the bell rang, trying to keep the glee out of his voice, "Much as I hate to separate you two, that's the round. Take thirty, then get back in here." He leaned over the ropes, looking out at the rest of the team in the audience, most of them alternating between stunned or cheering at the results of Scott and Logan clashing like rams in mating season.

Logan retreated to his corner and glanced down at a very obviously concerned and disapproving Marie. "What?" he asked her as he stared at Scott in his corner.

"What?" Marie said, raising an eyebrow. "You know what. Do you have to bait him like that?" Poking him in the back, she didn't use her full force, but made sure it was something he couldn't ignore. "Aren't you the one who always says the key to a good fight is to stop jawin' too much?"

Logan rinsed out his mouth, spat, then put his mouth guard back in. "He's wobbling." he commented to Marie. "Thirty seconds, tops." he said confidently.

Scott was on his feet, but not really tracking the reactions of his watching teammates, let alone Logan's judgement of his condition. The nasty banter forgotten, he held onto the ropes for a moment, trying to concentrate, figure out why he was doing this and why Jean, down the link, seemed to understand something that he wasn't seeing just now.

The bell for the next round rang, and Scott shook his head doggedly. Turning, he came out to meet Logan in the middle of the ring.

Logan stepped up, juked, then pasted a hard one right to Scott's body. Each body-shot was aimed up, to drive the air out of Scott's lungs, make it hard for him to breathe. He had to admit that he was liking putting some hurt on Scott. Poor, frail, drug-addled Scott. Painkillers all the live-long day.

Scott found himself driven up against the ropes, fighting for air, before he quite processed that it was happening. There was no question of continuing the banter with Logan, not when he was having this much trouble catching a breath. But he was not going down, he was not giving Logan the satisfaction of one of those damned victory laps as if this meant something, as if the man with metal bones and a healing factor could claim any kind of a fair victory in hand-to-hand.

And there were other reasons he wasn't going down, too. Sucking in as much of a breath as he could, Scott threw himself forward again, slamming into Logan - fists-first, although with all of his weight behind it.

He had gotten up off the ground in Seattle with one eye gone to keep giving orders. He was not lying down here and letting the hairball strut around the ring.

Logan rocked back with Scott's blow, grinning at the ferocity of it. Then he returned it with interest, driving a blow into Scott's abdomen with as much force as he could get from his legs, arm, and torso. He thought he might have even lifted Scott off his feet with it.

He did leave an opening doing it, though, and Scott reminded himself that Logan had metal bones. Not metal cartilage, and the fact that Logan's nose was going to heal didn't actually diminish the satisfaction of breaking it. Funny how that worked.

If Logan bled like normal people he'd have blood running down his face. Instead, all he could smell for a few moments was his own blood. He punished Scott for that one by returning the favor - a jab to draw out Scott's erratic defense then a hard right to the nose that only avoided doing the same thing Scott had to him because Scott managed to turn just enough with the blow to wind up with a bloody nose instead of a broken one.

Scott, he noted with amusement, was something of a bleeder. And there were few things more satisfying than Scott's blood on his gloves.

Not going down. I'm not. It was like this mantra in his mind, over and over again, even as he wound up entirely on the defensive again, blocking shot after shot from Logan and not even sure where in the ring they were at this point. Retreating, he was definitely retreating, but he was still on his feet. And that was all that counted.

--

Nathan lowered himself down to the bench beside Angelo. He'd clearly been in the showers and had pulled some fresh school sweatpants and a t-shirt on before returning, as there was no blood on either. He gave the younger man a measuring look. "Head clearing?" he asked.

Angelo nodded slightly, not wanting to jar any of the many bruises he could feel growing. "Feelin' a lot better. Yours?"

"Oh, I'll be miserable in the morning," was the cheerful response, "but this was still worth it." Nathan poked at the cuts on his face, then froze as he saw and heard Scott calling on Logan. "Well, crap, this is going to be ugly," he said, not quite lightly.

Angelo looked up sharply towards the ring, warily. "...well, the whole point of this thing was gettin' old grudges dealt with, right?"

Nathan smiled a bit humorlessly. "Logan will kick the crap out of him, and there won't be anything resolved." He knew what the real bone of contention was between the two men, and it wasn't something you worked out in the boxing ring. "Scott's already had what, two fights tonight?"

"Somethin' like that. Not sure the first one really counted, though."

"Well, half of us got up there just to prove something," Nathan murmured, not missing Jean's quiet departure from the Danger Room. "I suppose that is what this is."

Another nod. "Seems like it. Let's just hope Scott doesn't have to get carried out of there." He grinned ruefully at the memory of his own short-lived bout with Logan - though at least he'd walked away - then winced.

"Free piece of advice," Nathan said, watching Angelo with one eye and the fight as it started with another, "minimize the facial expressions? Trust me, no one's going to care if you look vaguely catatonic for the next few days. They'll see the bruises and understand." He grinned suddenly, though, laying a hand on Angelo's shoulder. "I think you proved something too, you know."

That got a very, very slight smile, taking Nathan's advice. "Yeah?"

"Well, don't you?" Nathan said, deliberately turning it right back around on him. The fight was well underway, and Scott was just as badly overmatched as he'd expected.

"Well, I mean... I lasted a round against him an' didn't have to leave the ring on a stretcher, if that's what you're gettin' at..." He sounded uncertain about what had actually been proved, now, though, after the adrenaline had worn off.

Nathan put his hand back on Angelo's shoulder, squeezing gently this time. "Think about it this way. If you'd really wanted to take him down in there, and there hadn't been any rules - what would you have done?"

Angelo considered this, then shrugged. "Anythin' I could to take him down."

"Think about it," Nathan said again, wincing as Logan got a particularly good hit in and Scott staggered. "Just the two of you, and your physical attributes... you have something that can take away one of the few things he does need, physically, to keep fighting."

"Air", Angelo said with a slow smile. "If I could keep the claws out of play at the same time..."

"One word - cocoon," Nathan said cheerfully. "Pin his arms to his sides, keep the skin-wrapping no lower than his wrists - he can't do a damned thing with the claws, then. If you've got him at a distance of a few feet and keep him there..."

"I'll bear that in mind", Angelo said equally happily. "You know, for if it ever comes up again."

"Well, given how he tends to go nuts periodically, you never know," Nathan said, with rather more truth than tact. He wasn't feeling particularly tactful. Scott was getting killed up there, and he shifted on the bench, frowning.

"Sounds fun", Angelo said wryly, turning towards the ring. "...isn't it kind of time Cain stepped in up there?"

As Angelo said it, Cain called the round, and Nathan frowned, watching Scott holding onto the ropes in his corner as if they were the only thing keeping him up. "Glutton for punishment," he muttered, then looked sideways at Angelo. "And yes, I know that's the pot calling the kettle black."

"Like anybody in this room isn't", Angelo pointed out, eyeing Scott worriedly.

"Yes, but I think this is a special kind of persistence we're seeing here." He had his suspicions as to what was actually behind it, too. Nathan watched as the second round started, shaking his head as Logan had Scott on the ropes again almost immediately.

"You said it yourself, it was gonna be ugly", was the rueful answer.

--

The bell was a godsend as Cain stepped in between the two fighters one more time, pointing at the opposite corners. The grin on his face was going to have to be lasered off at this rate, he figured. While it appeared that Scott was heavily outmatched, he was hanging in there. For all his disdain for Logan, Cain was quickly coming to realize that it'd take someone as strong as himself or Marie to put the scrapper down. Toughness, now that was something that could be respected.

But despite that, Scott wasn't backing down an inch. That in its own way was just as impressive. Sometimes all it took was hanging in there that extra minute, no matter how futile it seemed. The whole scuffle over Jean just added flavor to the whole mess.

Scott headed for his corner, falling against the ropes and only avoiding going to his knees by sheer force of will. Because if he fell, Cain would call the match, and he wasn't about to let him do that. "What," he mumbled at Ororo, who'd appeared at the side of the ring and was looking up at him with one of Those Looks on her face.

"If you die, I promise I will find someone to bring you back just so I can call you out at the next one of these," she told him, the annoyance in her voice somehow edging out the slight bit of fear she felt. "So be careful."

"Don't get wibbly on me, 'Ro," Scott wheezed, spitting a frightening amount of blood. Time to pull himself together now, he thought doggedly, shaking his head in a feeble attempt to get rid of the cobwebs. Cobwebs, hell...

Thirty seconds seemed to go by too quickly, and Cain motioned for the next bell to ring. Scott staggered out to meet Logan, raising his hands.

Logan, as fresh as when he'd first started this bout - his fourth on the day - bounced out to meet Scott at mid-ring. First contact went to him, with a stinging right hook to Scott's face. Followed by another punishing uppercut and a body-shot that looked like it was trying to fuse Scott's small intestines to his lungs. Logan then danced out of the way of Scott's feeble counterattack and landed a combination to Scott's body that just compounded the beating.

"You're out of gas and busted up inside." Logan told Scott cheerfully. "Get Cain to drop the towel, end this."

Scott wobbled visibly, his knees clearly wanting to give out on him as he fought for breath. There was blood still running from his nose and the cuts on his face, and he was obviously having difficulty even focusing on Logan. "No," was all the response he could manage, barely audible, and he stumbled forward, glancing a harmless blow off Logan's shoulder.

Logan didn't respond, but did take another hook to Scott's temple that seemed like it was designed to tear the poor man's head right off its shoulders. Then followed it with another, then another uppercut to Scott's nose, then a glove-clad fist to Scott's mouth. With every punch, Scott seemed to wobble a little bit more, be a little slower to pull himself back together.

Scott blocked Logan's next punch, slowly and clumsily, and only managed to leave an opening for Logan to land another of those overwhelming punches right to his abdomen. He fell to his knees, the brief shock of impact jolting through his body far more than it should have.

No matter how badly he wanted to go over there and cap this fight for good, he obeyed the rules and backed off to let Cain make the call as to whether Scott was fit to continue or not. "Get up, Scott! I'm not done with you yet!" he taunted. "Don't you quit on me! Is this how you fight?"

Scott heard someone shouting at him, and almost sensed, rather than saw, Cain coming over to his side to check on him. Two, three steps, and Cain would call the match, and he wasn't ready for that. He was back on his feet somehow, stumbling forward, blinded by blood and tracking Logan's voice. Just one more hit, if he could land one more hit...

Logan wasn't going to give him that one more hit. As Scott approached, Logan unloaded with everything he had - getting most every major muscle group involved in a stunning blow to Scott's head. Logan wanted the knockout so bad he could taste it.

It connected, and Scott went down - all the way, this time, hitting the mats. He laid there dazed, hearing noise around him and not sure what it was, where he was. Get up, he thought dimly, trying to raise his head. Get up, damn it...

Logan backed off again and then looked over to Cain. "Think he's had enough?" he asked conversationally. "I'm more than happy to keep beating on him if you'd like."

Cain just nodded, leaning down to pick Scott's head up off the mat. "Oh yeah. Stick a fork in him, he's done." Bending down to help the senior X-Man to his feet, Cain looked over at Logan. "Do I have to ask you two to shake and assume this whole macho alpha male bullshit is done, or are we gonna wind up doin' this every month? Because hey, I don't care one way or the other."

"Not up to me." he said, then took his victory lap before climbing down out of the ring - to a very noticeably quiet crowd. The gloves came off and then the claws popped through the tape in order to cut away the remainder of his hand-wraps.

Cain reached out, putting a hand against Logan's chest and looming over the shorter man. "The point here was to get this shit out of your system, not to get your jollies beating up your teammates. It ain't about who's badder or who's best. It's about getting this shit settled here and now, and not having to have either of you wonder if the other's going to stab you in the back when serious shit's on the line. We clear, Logan?"

"Clear." Logan said, although he doubted that while a pair of great legs and flaming red hair and a truly intoxicating scent was around that anything would ever truly be settled. "Good fight."

Scott felt Jean watching on the link, and managed what might have passed for a smile. "Yeah. Just... going to go pass out in the corner now, don't mind me..." The ripple of still slightly shocked amusement that abruptly went through those watching only made Scott's smile grow and he straightened.

Now, to get out of the ring without faceplanting.

--

Logan sat himself down in the locker room and picked the last of the tape off his hands. He was thinking about Cain's words - about how this wasn't about beating on your team-mates but about settling out longstanding issues. And from that perspective, he supposed, he'd completely missed the point. Angelo was brave enough to step up and get beat down, Nate proved that he still had the legs to throw down with the best there was, and his scrap with Marie was more of one of their sparring matches than a proper bout. And the fight with Scott - well, that hadn't resolved much besides making Logan feel good. So what did he get from the bouts, other than the satisfaction of a good scrap? Well, he'd kept his head, kept his fights mostly clean, and unleashed the beast productively. Nobody died, nobody even got all that seriously injured.

The sounds of people cheering on the next pair in the ring got louder as the door to the locker room opened, Marie slipping inside. A cursory glance assured her that there was no one inside besides the person she was seeking. Storming over to the bench, she dumped the cup of ice cold water she'd picked up before following Logan over his head. Crossing her arms, she glared at him, her silence saying more than any words she could have spoken.

Logan shivered as the cold water hit him. "Give you a chance to explain that one, Marie." he said without turning around. Instead, in true Logan fashion, he was opening his locker and going for his towel.

"Do Ah really need to?" she said with a scowl. "My way of telling you to cool down. What the hell was that back there?"

"That was something he had coming for a long time now." Logan said as he undid his belt. "Pretty sure it didn't solve much, but damn it felt good."

"He had it coming?" Smacking her own forehead, Marie sprawled on the bench next to her. "Seriously Logan. You’re the one making comments about his wife. Didn't we do this already?"

He actually almost said "But he started it!" but he bit it back at the last moment. "He decided to open that whole conversation up while I was delivering a Class-A richly-deserved beating." he pointed out after a moment, climbing out of his clothes and wrapping the towel around his waist. "He was practically begging me to go there so he could get all indignant about it."

Casting her eyes upward while Logan changed, Marie tapped her foot against the floor. "Just 'cuz he started something doesn't mean you had to finish it."

"That's just crazy talk." he said, closing his locker and walking over to the showers. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him in just his skin anyway, and to be honest he didn't care much if she saw him now. "I didn't start it, but I'll end it. Ask the me in your head about it." After all, you really had to be male to truly understand that dictum. He was convinced the way women were raised didn't give them an appreciation for it, not writ down deep in their bones.

"Trust me, the you in my head has already given me an earful," she grumbled. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'Be the bigger man?' Ah'm asking you to give him a break. You don't gotta rub it in his face that you think his wife's hot and that you'd take her the first chance you got if she gave you the sign."

"Truth hurts." he said and then disappeared into the showers area. A few moments later, the sound of water hitting tile became very evident. A few moments after that, a glob of water came flying out of the showers to drench Marie. Then came the sounds of someone taking a shower.

Marie looked down at her now soaked top, then glared at the showers. Spinning around on her heel, she flushed all the toilets on her way out.

Logan yelped as the water suddenly went ice-cold for a few moments.



--



Ororo was satisfied to hear a scattering of whoops and claps as the ring cleared from the last match; apparently the audience was enjoying the bouts as much as the participants. Though she was glad of this fact, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something missing.This is about addressing issues we have with one another. Well...

"Jean," she said, standing and fixing a smile on her face. "Join me in the ring?"

Jean was amused, in an odd sort of way, by the whole process. She'd not been back long enough to have picked up any new grudges, and four months on a mountain had put most of her problems in some sort of perspective so she wasn't looking for a fight (although if Betsy had been around she can't say she would have been avoiding that, if only for old time's sake) but watching was entertaining. She'd skipped Scott's fight with Logan, but he understood why and that was what mattered there. When Ororo stood up, though, and looked her way, Jean's eyebrows shot up. Oh, is this how we're doing this? she asked herself, standing almost automatically. Well, if this could clear the air and would mean eventually finding out what was going on with 'Ro, Jean was game. "Of course."

Both women made their way into the ring easily enough, going through the necessary prep work and donning their gloves before turning to face each other. 'Ro could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her from her first fight and bounced a little on the soles of her feet, impatient to begin. Let us see if this really works.

Jean gave pause to thank whatever impulse had given her the foresight to warm up properly before all of this started - meant that at least she didn't end up stalling the clearly slightly impatient Ororo while she limbered up. A few extra stretches to get the 'sitting on the bleachers and watching' coldness out of her limbs and she was on her feet, waiting for Cain's signal.

As soon as the big man gave it Ororo was off, moving towards Jean as she raised her gloves to her chin and tucked her arms close to her sides. She was a little bruised from her bout with Scott, but 'work through the pain' was a lesson she had learned long ago. Reminding herself that this was Jean, her friend and Scott's wife, she nevertheless threw the first punch, not holding back much as she aimed for the other woman's arms. She didn't want to hurt her, but she did want to rid herself of the frustration that still lingered despite Jean's return.

Jean was not entirely surprised that Ororo came out of her corner swinging, and she certainly wasn't unprepared. She blocked the blow and returned it in kind, aiming to get through the other woman's defenses. She might not know exactly what this was about, but the mechanics were simple enough, even if the emotions weren't.

At least she is not much taller than me, 'Ro thought wryly as Jean retaliated in kind, forcing her to pay more attention to her defenses and less to the confusing cloud of emotions hanging over her. In truth, the two women were pretty evenly matched, and no sooner had 'Ro landed a hit than Jean returned it.

They used to train together, back when they were even younger and less experienced than they were now. Sometimes she and Jean would team up together against Scott and Hank, bullying them mercilessly until the boys locked themselves in Hank's lab just to find respite. Or just as often it would be her and Scott against the other, older students... Charles often shook his head and said that if he hadn't known better, he would say they were related, so similar were they in pursuit of mischief and trouble. When Scott and Jean had gotten married, Ororo hadn't resented it one bit - how could she, after seeing how much they adored one another? - but she did expect a lot from Jean. If the residents of the mansion were her family, then Scott was her brother, and she would not let anybody hurt him, ever. Except of course that plan had failed, and Scott had been taken, and then Jean had left...

The rules said no powers, and Jean was being good, but she knew 'Ro too well not to notice as her mental focus turned more and more inward and, because Ororo was good and not the sort to be distracted, her blows became more and more intense. Jean was matching her, more or less, although as the fight went on she was coming again to the realization the practicing in Tibet was definitely not the same as sparring with a live opponent. Deciding she needed a breather and that 'Ro needed to get out of the mental funk she'd started in on, Jean ducked to the side of the other woman's next blow and, stepping back to pull her slightly off balance, spun a low kick into her legs, knocking 'Ro off her feet.

To say 'Ro was shocked would've been an understatement, and she couldn't help but hear the ripple of laughter from the crowd as she found herself flat on her back. Just then Cain was calling break, and she pushed herself up and retreated to her corner for a moment. Annoyingly, the feelings that had prompted her calling out Jean were not going away; they still nagged at her as she adjusted her gloves and her mouthguard. Either she was doing this wrong, or it just wasn't working.

Leaning back against the ropes in her corner, Jean rubbed gently at her arms, though it was not terribly effective through her gloves. Being hit back was definitely not the same as practicing solo in the mountains, and while she wasn't winded, she sure as hell was sore. Sincerely hoping that this was at least helping 'Ro, Jean stepped back into the ring as Cain called the next round, pulling her guard up.

They began to spar again, and though they were going through the motions well enough, that was about all that could be said for the match. About a minute into the second round Ororo stepped back from a particularly well-aimed punch and shook her head, seeing her opponent for what seemed liked the first time. It was Jean, the woman who had been her friend and confidante for over a decade. They had had problems before, and they had never been solved by hitting each other. Sorry, Nathan, but I do not think this will work for everybody.

Raising her gloved hand, Ororo waved over at Cain, spitting the mouthguard out so she could speak clearly. "I wish to stop the match! I will forfeit, if necessary."

Jean dropped her gloves the second Ororo's hand went up and she shook her head at Cain. "That's not necessary," she said. "A tie." Cocking her head at her friend she added, "If that's ok."

"Of course," 'Ro said with a rueful smile, already beginning to work her gloves off. Crossing the ring to where Jean stood, she leaned in closer to the redhead. "Perhaps later we can talk?"

Jean's smile was hesitant, questioning, but she nodded. "I'd like that," she said.



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Ladies and gentlemen, that's it for the night! On behalf of our hosts and our sponsors, I, your humble announcer, bid you good night from the Danger Room at 1407 Greymalkin Lane. Good fight, good night!