xp_logs | Logan and Fred

Fred is introduced to the Canadian brawler, and measures himself against the infamous mutant.

While skipping gym was never the best idea, Fred honestly didn't see the point. Nothing he seemed to do changed his physiology, so why try? But he'd been told that he'd be receiving 'Ability Evaluation' today, whatever that meant, and he had to report to the gym for it. 'Could be worse', Fred thought, 'They could've told me to report to that Danger Room thing..'

Fred had gotten to the gym earlier than told. He'd heard some of the other inhabitants of the mansion talk about this 'Logan' in hushed whispers and, honestly, he didn't sound like a man one should piss off. Fred figured it would be a good first impression to get there early.

Boredom had set in, as it oft did with Fred, and he'd taken to reading the newest issue of 'Astro City' whilst he lounged on the bleachers, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. To his recollection, Mister Logan wasn't supposed to be there for another ten minutes, so he figured he'd have enough time to sneak a coffin nail.

Logan was one of those guys who could be incredibly stealthy when he wanted to be. Not that he was looking to startle the kid - he'd been working on some of his own workouts, flowing in and out around the wooden post with the stumps at precisely the right angles, throwing a dizzying combination of strikes, blocks, and deflections at it. It was nice, but it wasn't real and Logan would have vastly preferred something real.

But not today. Today was giving one of the new kids an evaluation.

Judging by the smell, the kid was a deep and desperate addict. Nicotine, by the smell of it. And not even good nicotine. "Howdy, kid." he told Fred, having approached somewhat unawares.

To his credit, Fred didn't jump very high...okay, he did. But he hadn't dropped his stuff, to his credit. Fred turned and jammed the comic and cigarettes into his pocket, "Erm-hello sir. I'm Fred. I, uh..." Fred offered his hand, noticed the cigarette was still in it, put it back in his mouth, and offered his hand again.

"I know who you are." he said, taking the kid's hand and applying a little pressure to it. Just ... testing, in a way. Logan couldn't abide a limp handshake. "And call me Logan. Finish your smoke and we'll get started." he advised.

Fred's handshake was strong, and he hadn't flinched at the firm shake. "I, uh, I don't need to finish, sir," Fred said, and crushed his cigarette under his boot. He stepped down from the bleachers and looked at Logan, "We can get started now."

"Fair enough." he said, making his way back down the bleachers and to the Gym floor. "Heard you've done some bouncing in your time." he said. "That true?"

Fred nodded, shedding his raincoat and sweater as he moved to the opposite side of the Canadian man. He stood shoulders and feet squared, in an off-white shirt that proudly stated 'They Live!' with a picture of a zombie-like man dressed as a newscaster, "For about a year, sir. Mostly low-key stuff,"

"Fine. Show me what you've got, kid. You can't break me so don't worry about that. Just ... do your thing." he said.

Fred cocked an eyebrow, "Do my...thing? Like...hit you?" Fred had watched Logan move since he'd noticed him; he'd learned to size people up a long time ago. He knew people who knew how to fight carried themselves a certain way. But this Logan...he carried himself like he could walk through the gates of Hell without scorching his boots. He wondered who'd be in more trouble if he did throw a punch: Logan, or him...

"Shut up and and hit me, kid." he said with a slight growl. "Can't know what you got until you hit me." he said. "Don't worry, you can't hurt me." he reassured. "I heal."

Fred continued to look at Logan quizzically, then sighed and shrugged a little. He squared up, kept his hands up, and threw a right hook into the older man’s chest. He didn’t hit him as hard as he could, and was glad for that: his hand came alive with painful fire as he landed the punch. What was this guy made of?

When the blow came, Logan found himself pressed up hard against the far wall, his entire body tingling from the force of the blow. "Think I might like you yet, kid." he said. "How's the hand?" he asked, knowing that hitting him was like punching an infinitely hard steel bar lightly wrapped in a padding of flesh.

Fred chuckled a little, despite himself. This guy lived up to his reputation and then some. “It’s, uh, it’s fine,” said Fred. He’d become used to the sensation of pain, and it honestly wasn’t all that much worse than what he’d become used to. While Logan felt like steel wrapped in padding, Fred was pretty much all padding.

"You hit hard." Logan said with a grin. "I like that. Now let's see if you can move." he said, moving back within Fred's reach, gliding along on the balls of his feet like water. He wanted to see if the fat kid could move or if he was strictly just a immobile slab.

Fred grinned a little meaner than usual. Everyone always made the same mistake.

While he was larger than most people, Fred had always been as quick as a normal sized person. That, and he had become used to the speed required in a scrap. Fred may not have been a social butterfly or a valedictorian, but there was one thing he'd always been good at, whether he liked it or not: fighting. When he'd started bouncing, and things got less than cordial, he'd found knocking people around came as second nature.

With his hands already up defensively, Fred moved closer to Logan, and used his proximity to push the blow away. He didn't press an attack, however; this was a test, not a brawl.

Logan ghosted along, circling the kid, forcing him to keep moving, to keep changing up his angles. Every once in a while he'd ghost in to throw a low-powered shot, but this wasn't about the kid's skill. It was about how he reacted, how he thought. Which is why all the punches were aimed for the solar plexus, the ribs, and maybe a liver or kidney shot if one opened up. Hitting the kid was like sticking your hand into Jell-O. He had a really weird tendency to want to try to extrap anything that tried to strike him. He could see the benefits.

Fred followed, rolling with each hit, not really feeling the majority of them: Logan had, probably knowingly, targeted the areas of his body least likely to hurt him. Any trained combatant could see that the majority of Fred's style came from very loose boxing training and close up greco wrestling; there were several moments that Logan would loose him, as he couldn't react quick enough, where when Fred could keep up, he'd grapple Logan lightly and give a quick, firm squeeze to his shoulder or forearm, ready to throw him if this were a real right.

As the dance went on, Fred would get confused more often by the lithe Logan. He'd been accustomed to fighting drunk musclebound lowlifes, not trained professionals, and it showed.

It was becoming painfully obvious to Logan what class Fred needed to be in. Back with the rookies. Not because he didn't have the gift - Logan thought he might - but he had some pretty massive gaps in his skillset. Stuff that Callisto or Angelo could teach him.

But once - if - he graduated from the rookie stuff, he'd consider making some room in his schedule to take the fat kid's skills up to the next level. Assuming he wanted to. Whole lotta ifs, he thought to himself with disgust. Take what came.

"All right, kid, think that's enough." he said, stopping his circling and grinning at the kid. "You've been around the block a few times, that's pretty obvious. But I think you'd be better served with the beginners until you get some gaps in your skills filled. Nothing personal, kid, but you don't have what it takes ... yet." he said.

Fred, gasping for breath, smiled broadly and nodded. It was odd: he was being told he wasn't up to snuff, but being told by someone who obviously knew what they were talking about took the sting out of it, "T'be honest, sir...I'm kinda suprised I kept up as well as I did. I'm used to drunks and losers, not steel plated kung-fu masters..." and laughed quietly. He'd given his pwer a workout, and the pain was starting to flare back up again. He took out his pain medication and popped two of them into his mouth. When he'd put the bottle back in his pocket, he looked back to Logan, finally getting his breathing under control again. "So...where do I go from here, sir?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow at the pills, but said nothing. "You go talk to Callisto or Angelo." he said. "Tell them I said you knew a thing or two but you needed a grounding in the basics. They should be able to take it from there." he said. "And Fred? You get those fundamentals down, we'll talk again." he said.

"I'll tell them, sir." It felt odd, fighting for the fight of it rather than a paycheck. To measure yourself up physically was a philosophy Fred had never really considered before...

Fred nodded to Logan, more respectful than usual. "This may sound fairly crazy, sir...but I'm really looking forward to it," he said.