xp_logs | Doug and North

Doug and North do some hand-to-hand work in the 'Danger Gym', testing each others' capabilities and styles.

Doug never quite failed to get a chuckle out of the way everyone called their workout space the "Danger Gym", a tongue-in-cheek reference to the much more technologically-advanced training area the X-Men used. It was at once a nod to the shoestring budget they occasionally worked on despite Emma's deep pockets, and the low-tech fists-to-faces solutions to situations they sometimes found themselves in.

Doug preceded North into the space, making a habitual bow as he crossed onto the matspace where the members of X-Force practiced hand-to-hand. Some quirks got ingrained through long habit, even when he wasn't training at Master Lee's judo studio.

Repressing the urge to slam an elbow into the back of Ramsey's neck as the younger man bowed, David didn't bother kicking his shoes off before circling the mat, casually rolling his shoulders. "Body language," he barked out, his voice carrying off the walls of the exercise space, "they say you read people like a book. Predict a punch, see a kick before it's thrown. Useful skill."

He shook a handful of pills from a small paper packet into his hand, perusing them for a moment. Blue octagon, yellow tablet, the telltale white flecks of dexadrine - only a quick examination before swallowing them with a quick pull of water from a bottle that he dropped to the floor as he watched Doug closely.

Shaking his shoulders and loosening his arms, North closed his eyes and tilted his head to the floor. "It's one thing to - gggk - see a move coming," he said, teeth clenching as his head jerked once to the side. "The difference between survival and a body bag, though, is what you do about it."

With a snap, David raised his head and opened his eyes, the irises gone solid white as a smirk crossed his lips. "So do something, monkey."

Doug hadn't missed North's urge to hit him, and had carefully stayed just out of reach enough that he'd have a chance to move if the older man had. He knew that the formality of the dojo had no place in a real fight, he didn't need that lesson repeated to him. But in this relatively safe space, he could indulge his tendency towards formality.

The pills North had shaken out caused Doug to raise an eyebrow. He didn't know much about the former Weapon X operative except the scraps he'd given to them so far. When his eyes went solid white, Doug put at least a few dots connected, as it was obviously a way to force his power into action.

He maintained his ready posture and shrugged in reply. "You first."

A stepping reverse punch was met with an outside block and a return strike, then a foot sweep that took the taller man off-balance-- no

A quick sidestep, then a crossing punch to the shoulder connected, but was followed by an ippon-nagi shoulder throw, textbook aikido, followed by-- no

A feint forward, light shin-to-shin contact, then a clinch - countered by a nerve strike that Ramsey couldn't have learned in any McDojo--no

Three steps forward, head fake, elbow strike-- no

Rushing knee strike, o-soto-gari reaping throw-- no

Sweep left-- no

Literally dozens of potential futures flashed before David North's eyes before he even took the first step towards Doug. In each one, he gauged the young man's reaction time, effectiveness, strength, conditioning - and weak spots.

There it is.

All the ability in the world to read body language still depended on physical ability to react to it, and everyone had their quirks. North stepped forward, one hand rising in a textbook knife-edge blocking posture while his other snapped out lightning-quick to zip right through Doug's block and deliver a solid poke to the mutant linguist's sternum.

Doug recognized that distant look, as he saw it on his girlfriend's face every so often when -her- power was active. He didn't know the particulars of North's precognition, but he remembered sparring with Marie-Ange in the Danger Room. He moved forward, his strikes a blend of different styles, doing his best to stay unpredictable and feel out the limits of his opponent's reactions.

North would give this much to the kid - he was spry. And he didn't overcommit himself - few of his strikes left room for a solid counter. Whoever he'd trained with - and in a group with the kind of black ops bogeymen as this one seemed to have, the list was frightening to consider - they must have drilled the bad habits right out of him early.

There are six things an enemy can do to you when you try and kick him in the head. Five of them make you very, very dead.

Logan had told him that, years ago. Usually right before demonstrating how much precognition meant dick-all against a flat-out superior fighter.

A knee to the ribs took Maverick's breath away - getting soft, old man - and he retaliated with a roundhouse punch, high and wide.

Doug ducked away from the punch, though it was closer than he liked, and disengaged, panting lightly. He was slowly regaining his stamina and muscle tone from before his encounter with Mastermold, but not as quickly as he'd like. He forced himself to straighten, and took another breath before moving towards North again.

North stepped easily over a foot sweep, leaned away from the follow-up punch, and brought his elbow down to take the force away from a kick aimed at his knee. Doug continued to press his initiative, knowing that the key was to not give in to frustration at the lack of contact. But it was impossible to attack constantly, and the older man's snuck through to clip him on the ear, leaving him to back away and shake his head.

North took advantage of the momentary break in Doug's defenses, closing the gap with a series of clublike elbow and forearm strikes. A swift swing at the blond's temple was only avoided by a fraction of an inch - exactly as his opponent had foreseen.

The vicious strike changed in mid-swing to a sinuous grapple, working David's arm around the joint of Doug's left shoulder and taking both men down to the floor as North's legs scissored around Doug's waist.

"This would be a lot harder if you didn't have the muscle tone of a fucking infant," David hissed as he put pressure on Doug's shoulder - not enough to pop it out of joint but enough to let the other man know he was caught. The wheeze in the former secret agent's voice betrayed no small amount of exhaustion, however. The brief fight had been intense, and the momentary high of the stimulants was fading. "No fault with your technique, though. Call it?"

Doug nodded and slapped the mat with his free hand, rolling away and standing up. "Yeah, funny how dying and reconstituting your body does that," he quipped. As he watched the color seep back into North's eyes, his brain calculated the other man's stance and the way his voice had wheezed. Without a change in expression, he darted forward, sliding under his opponent's arms and catching him around the waist in a move that was part rugby tackle, part barroom brawl maneuver. He pinned North just long enough to get a grunt out of the other man, then let up. "Best of three falls?" he asked with a wry chuckle.

Grunting as he rolled to his feet, David smiled behind his beard and adopted a compact offensive stance. "As you wish, monkey. Tanz mit mir," he invited with a gesture. "Let us dance."