Fighting Dirty: Logan, Amanda - Tuesday
Mar. 6th, 2007 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsBackdated because I'm a doofus and forgot to post this. During Angelo's session with Jack, Amanda runs into Logan and works on her own issues.
Angelo's appointment with Jack was probably going to take a couple of hours, so Amanda decided to take herself back to the brownstone to take care of a few things - laundry, checking her phone and her mail, various work and study projects she'd let slide... anything to keep busy, really. The sight of Logan coming out of the Danger Gym after a session with Sarah suddenly presented another option. On the spur of the moment, and driven perhaps by more than just the need to improve her hand to hand, she called out to him, hoping he had some time.
"Oi, Logan! Got time for another session?"
Logan looked over to Amanda and then nodded. "Sure." He didn't have much else on his plate other than dinner with Marie and he still had a couple of hours before that. "Get changed, meet you inside." he said, turning on his heel to walk right back into the Gym. He usually didn't bother to change out for these sessions and today was no exception. He was wearing his spare shirt - Sarah had gone and put some holes in his original one - so this was all he had.
Amanda looked down at what she was wearing, pondering whether it was worth changing or not - Pete and Wanda emphasised training in street clothes, since you didn't exactly have the chance to go change in a fight. The jeans were one of her less-nice pairs, faded and slightly stretched and the t-shirt was a generic cheap one from one of the department stores in New Orleans, plain black. It'd do. Following Logan into the gym, she peeled off her leather jacket and the flannel shirt - one of Angelo's - she was wearing for extra layers and dumped them near the door. "Ta, Logan," she said, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out of them. "I know I've been a bit slack lately, what with being away."
"When you get stabbed and bleed out because you decided to concentrate on other things, I'll make sure to send flowers." he said. He was a little irritated with the 'brat and part of the training was in keeping your cool when someone was determined to make you lose it. He was already loose and ready to go.
Amanda's eyes narrowed slightly, but she had to admit, she deserved that one. "Flowers, huh? Never picked you as the sentimental sort, Logan," she replied, swinging her arms around a few times to loosen them up. The small St. Jude medallion on its chain bounced with the movement, and she paused to unlatch it and stuff it in the front pocket of her jeans before stepping up.
Logan wasn't big on God - come to think of it, if he ever met Jesus on the road to Damascus he'd have to gut the sonofabitch - but Heather had given him a Survivalist's Guide to Christianity a long time ago and St Jude, patron saint of lost causes, was one of the things she covered. Huh. "You know me. I'm a big softy." he said with a slight smile on his face before throwing a fast fist at her face. If she didn't block or get out of the way her nose would likely resemble deviled ham very shortly.
Fuck he was fast... She did both, jerking herself to his outside and bringing up one hand to stop his arm following her movement. Her retaliatory strike was a sharp kick to the side of his knee with a heavy Doc Marten boot - she'd learned early on to keep the boots on for these sessions. Admantium joints hurt like a bastard on sneakers. "That's what Marie tells me," she said, briefly grinning, but there was a definite edge to it now. "Big hairy marshmallow, you are."
The knee went crunch and Logan shifted his weight to his good leg while he waited for his body to repair the damage she'd just done. "That's me." he said, hopping out of the way of her next strike. "Big cuddly teddy-bear." he agreed as he reached for her again - not to strike this time, but to _grab_.
Grabbing was bad - he easily out-massed her and she didn't have the physical strength to struggle with him. Besides, his joints were impossible to damage with a lock. She lashed out at his throat with the side of her hand as she twisted away from his grab. The shielding spell she held onto for now - it wasn't magic she wanted but purely physical work, something to wear off the tension of the last couple of weeks.
First she crushed his knee, now she was going for the throat. Maybe the girl was learning a few things. He took the throat-strike on his chin and kept after her, dodging and weaving his way inside of her reach. It was a change from his usual stand-up guy approach, but she gave every indication of wanting a workout.
Besides, his knee _hurt_.
She hissed with pain as she connected with the adamantium-reinforced bone in his chin instead of a nice soft throat and the distraction was enough for him to grab her, wrapping one arm around her upper body, aiming to pin her arms. Usually something like that would send her into a panic, reminiscent of too many times she'd been restrained that way, but this time it only fuelled her agression. Two weeks of feeling helpless, of watching Angelo's moods see-saw crazily, of worrying about the Pack, of chasing dead end after dead end and turning up nothing, of wondering just where the hell she stood in all this... Amanda lashed out with both feet this time, letting Logan take her weight as she rammed the heels of her boots directly at both kneecaps.
Logan took both boot-heels in his legs, but he'd managed to shift the girl up so that her perfectly-aimed strike was spoiled. Rather than his kneecaps, she hit the end of his femur. Unfortunately for _him_, she managed to mash a rather important muscle junction which chose that particular time to spasm in protest. He dropped to his knees, keeping the girl as wrapped up as he could.
Her feet hit the floor before his knees did and she let her own knees bend slightly before driving herself upwards with the force of both legs. His grip had only loosened slightly, which reduced her power, but she still had a fair amount of impetus as her head surged upwards towards his face.
Bone skull? Meet adamantium skull. Logan's nose, which technically unbreakable, deformed quite nicely as the strike hit. The strike _hurt_ and was in and of itself a new development for Amanda. But it was time to end this and find out what was eating at the girl. The force of the strike was enough to almost put him full upright again, and given his dominant position he popped the claws on his right hand and pushed her face into the mat _hard_, pinning her neck to the deck with a gleaming claw on either side.
She slammed into the mat, the air 'whoofing' out of her. Her initial instinct was to lash out at him again, but when she heard the tell-tale 'snikt' and felt the chill of metal on either side of her neck, she stiffened, then went limp. Possibly the shielding spell might help, but she wasn't positive and didn't want to chance it. Besides, her head ached dully from the impact with Logan's face - bloody fucking metal bones. "Uncle?" she mumbled into the mat, her hands pressed flat to the mat either side of her head.
Logan shifted his weight so that he was kneeling on the small of her back while keeping the claws in-place. "Bang." he told her simply. "You're dead." Only then did he move off of her and retract his claws to allow her to get back up. "You've been having a fun couple of weeks." he said flatly. "You're angry, you're frustrated, and you're fucked-up inside."
Amanda pushed herself up, pausing on her knees to wipe the back of her hand at a thin thread of blood coming from her lip - she'd bitten it as Logan had shoved her into the mat. "Yeah, well, watching people I think of as friends going through nine kinds of hell 'cause someone decided to blow up an aid organisation isn't exactly a beach holiday," she replied dryly. She did look a bit shamefaced. "Shouldn't have taken it out on you, tho'. 'S not your fault."
Logan waved that off. "Got a couple of choices. Could go get you so drunk that you can leave it be for a while or else I could beat the shit out of you." he said. "Could go get you laid, but you're not quite my type." he said with a quick grin. "Don't turn it inwards." he cautioned her, somewhat out of the blue.
She snorted at his suggestions, then paused in the midst of climbing to her feet at the last. Completing the movement, she rubbed at the back of her head with a wince before saying: "I know I shouldn't. It's just... being there, seeing everyone else so beaten up, grieving... It didn't happen to me, I couldn't hope to understand how they felt, and I sure as hell had nothing to make it better." Her head throbbed a little and she rubbed it again. "I hate being useless, Logan."
Logan nodded. "So don't be." he said as he made for the door. "Don't turn it inwards. Make some other poor bastard pay for your pain." he said, then walked out.
Angelo's appointment with Jack was probably going to take a couple of hours, so Amanda decided to take herself back to the brownstone to take care of a few things - laundry, checking her phone and her mail, various work and study projects she'd let slide... anything to keep busy, really. The sight of Logan coming out of the Danger Gym after a session with Sarah suddenly presented another option. On the spur of the moment, and driven perhaps by more than just the need to improve her hand to hand, she called out to him, hoping he had some time.
"Oi, Logan! Got time for another session?"
Logan looked over to Amanda and then nodded. "Sure." He didn't have much else on his plate other than dinner with Marie and he still had a couple of hours before that. "Get changed, meet you inside." he said, turning on his heel to walk right back into the Gym. He usually didn't bother to change out for these sessions and today was no exception. He was wearing his spare shirt - Sarah had gone and put some holes in his original one - so this was all he had.
Amanda looked down at what she was wearing, pondering whether it was worth changing or not - Pete and Wanda emphasised training in street clothes, since you didn't exactly have the chance to go change in a fight. The jeans were one of her less-nice pairs, faded and slightly stretched and the t-shirt was a generic cheap one from one of the department stores in New Orleans, plain black. It'd do. Following Logan into the gym, she peeled off her leather jacket and the flannel shirt - one of Angelo's - she was wearing for extra layers and dumped them near the door. "Ta, Logan," she said, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out of them. "I know I've been a bit slack lately, what with being away."
"When you get stabbed and bleed out because you decided to concentrate on other things, I'll make sure to send flowers." he said. He was a little irritated with the 'brat and part of the training was in keeping your cool when someone was determined to make you lose it. He was already loose and ready to go.
Amanda's eyes narrowed slightly, but she had to admit, she deserved that one. "Flowers, huh? Never picked you as the sentimental sort, Logan," she replied, swinging her arms around a few times to loosen them up. The small St. Jude medallion on its chain bounced with the movement, and she paused to unlatch it and stuff it in the front pocket of her jeans before stepping up.
Logan wasn't big on God - come to think of it, if he ever met Jesus on the road to Damascus he'd have to gut the sonofabitch - but Heather had given him a Survivalist's Guide to Christianity a long time ago and St Jude, patron saint of lost causes, was one of the things she covered. Huh. "You know me. I'm a big softy." he said with a slight smile on his face before throwing a fast fist at her face. If she didn't block or get out of the way her nose would likely resemble deviled ham very shortly.
Fuck he was fast... She did both, jerking herself to his outside and bringing up one hand to stop his arm following her movement. Her retaliatory strike was a sharp kick to the side of his knee with a heavy Doc Marten boot - she'd learned early on to keep the boots on for these sessions. Admantium joints hurt like a bastard on sneakers. "That's what Marie tells me," she said, briefly grinning, but there was a definite edge to it now. "Big hairy marshmallow, you are."
The knee went crunch and Logan shifted his weight to his good leg while he waited for his body to repair the damage she'd just done. "That's me." he said, hopping out of the way of her next strike. "Big cuddly teddy-bear." he agreed as he reached for her again - not to strike this time, but to _grab_.
Grabbing was bad - he easily out-massed her and she didn't have the physical strength to struggle with him. Besides, his joints were impossible to damage with a lock. She lashed out at his throat with the side of her hand as she twisted away from his grab. The shielding spell she held onto for now - it wasn't magic she wanted but purely physical work, something to wear off the tension of the last couple of weeks.
First she crushed his knee, now she was going for the throat. Maybe the girl was learning a few things. He took the throat-strike on his chin and kept after her, dodging and weaving his way inside of her reach. It was a change from his usual stand-up guy approach, but she gave every indication of wanting a workout.
Besides, his knee _hurt_.
She hissed with pain as she connected with the adamantium-reinforced bone in his chin instead of a nice soft throat and the distraction was enough for him to grab her, wrapping one arm around her upper body, aiming to pin her arms. Usually something like that would send her into a panic, reminiscent of too many times she'd been restrained that way, but this time it only fuelled her agression. Two weeks of feeling helpless, of watching Angelo's moods see-saw crazily, of worrying about the Pack, of chasing dead end after dead end and turning up nothing, of wondering just where the hell she stood in all this... Amanda lashed out with both feet this time, letting Logan take her weight as she rammed the heels of her boots directly at both kneecaps.
Logan took both boot-heels in his legs, but he'd managed to shift the girl up so that her perfectly-aimed strike was spoiled. Rather than his kneecaps, she hit the end of his femur. Unfortunately for _him_, she managed to mash a rather important muscle junction which chose that particular time to spasm in protest. He dropped to his knees, keeping the girl as wrapped up as he could.
Her feet hit the floor before his knees did and she let her own knees bend slightly before driving herself upwards with the force of both legs. His grip had only loosened slightly, which reduced her power, but she still had a fair amount of impetus as her head surged upwards towards his face.
Bone skull? Meet adamantium skull. Logan's nose, which technically unbreakable, deformed quite nicely as the strike hit. The strike _hurt_ and was in and of itself a new development for Amanda. But it was time to end this and find out what was eating at the girl. The force of the strike was enough to almost put him full upright again, and given his dominant position he popped the claws on his right hand and pushed her face into the mat _hard_, pinning her neck to the deck with a gleaming claw on either side.
She slammed into the mat, the air 'whoofing' out of her. Her initial instinct was to lash out at him again, but when she heard the tell-tale 'snikt' and felt the chill of metal on either side of her neck, she stiffened, then went limp. Possibly the shielding spell might help, but she wasn't positive and didn't want to chance it. Besides, her head ached dully from the impact with Logan's face - bloody fucking metal bones. "Uncle?" she mumbled into the mat, her hands pressed flat to the mat either side of her head.
Logan shifted his weight so that he was kneeling on the small of her back while keeping the claws in-place. "Bang." he told her simply. "You're dead." Only then did he move off of her and retract his claws to allow her to get back up. "You've been having a fun couple of weeks." he said flatly. "You're angry, you're frustrated, and you're fucked-up inside."
Amanda pushed herself up, pausing on her knees to wipe the back of her hand at a thin thread of blood coming from her lip - she'd bitten it as Logan had shoved her into the mat. "Yeah, well, watching people I think of as friends going through nine kinds of hell 'cause someone decided to blow up an aid organisation isn't exactly a beach holiday," she replied dryly. She did look a bit shamefaced. "Shouldn't have taken it out on you, tho'. 'S not your fault."
Logan waved that off. "Got a couple of choices. Could go get you so drunk that you can leave it be for a while or else I could beat the shit out of you." he said. "Could go get you laid, but you're not quite my type." he said with a quick grin. "Don't turn it inwards." he cautioned her, somewhat out of the blue.
She snorted at his suggestions, then paused in the midst of climbing to her feet at the last. Completing the movement, she rubbed at the back of her head with a wince before saying: "I know I shouldn't. It's just... being there, seeing everyone else so beaten up, grieving... It didn't happen to me, I couldn't hope to understand how they felt, and I sure as hell had nothing to make it better." Her head throbbed a little and she rubbed it again. "I hate being useless, Logan."
Logan nodded. "So don't be." he said as he made for the door. "Don't turn it inwards. Make some other poor bastard pay for your pain." he said, then walked out.
