Cammie & Logan: Back in the Saddle

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

After taking time to heal from her bottle to the chest, Cammie starts up her fighting lessons with Logan again.

Now that her chest was finally healed up completely, Cammie could return to her weekly hand-to-hand training. She had missed that, but both the doctors had made it extremely clear exactly what they thought of the possibility of the hour work out from hell pulling her stitches. And the last thing anyone wanted was her leaking her toxic blood all over as she ran back to the medlab. Herself included. Her blood smelled bad, on top of everything else.

But now... Now Cammie cracked her knuckles, as she walked in. "Did ya miss me?" she asked, more than ready to go.

"Which one are you again?" he asked with a grin, grinding out his smoke against his palm with nothing more than a reflexive wince. "Too tall to be Yvette, but you got that 'forgot to get out of the way' thing like Marie." he said, then chuckled. "It's your lucky day, darlin'. We've got a lot of ground to cover so I hope you're ready to work."

"Oh, ha ha," Cammie lightly to the first, "Your comedy sucks. And I'm ready to go. What's on the menu today, teach?" she asked, stretching her arms out. "We got a few weeks of lessons to make up. Sorry about the whole getting cut up thing. Blame Jake, he'll think it's funny."

"You're the one who got cut." he pointed out. "And I think today is going to be locks and throws." he said with a certain look that promised a great deal of educational pain. "You loose? Hope so." he said. "Give me twenty for a nice easy warmup, kid." he said gruffly. "Nah, make it forty. You took a beer-bottle to the tits." he smirked. He had just the thing for working on that little deficiency.

"I did, and I'll have you know after that the fight was over for the other guys," she said, dropping to do the insane number of pushups. Complaining about it would just get more, so she didn't. Sure, it was hard work, but a lot of things were like that. Cammie actually enjoyed fighting, so she wasn't about to fuck up her chance to get better at it.

"It's amazing how easy it is to get a bunch of grown men to lose their lunches."

While she worked herself through her forty, Logan went and got himself a beer, chugging down the contents as fast as he could. Belching contently. he held the bottle in a casual attack position. A good thing he had the broom and dustpan ready for cleanup from today's lesson. She'd need them. And he had a lot more bottles where that came from for demonstration purposes.

"OK, kid, on your feet!" he barked at her. "Since you made me think of it, today we're gonna have a little fun." he said, tossing her the beer bottle. "You get to play the part of the drunken slob lookin' for a little easy tail." he grinned. "So take that bottle and come at me with it." he ordered her.

Cammie caught the bottle and looked up at him, "You got to be kidding me," she said, but at least she had the bottle, "I'd say it's your funeral, but you've made me eat those words too often," it didn't stop her from grinning though as she lunged with the bottle. She was getting better, she could say that for herself.

The next thing Cammie knew, she was facedown on the mat, her arm bent at a highly unnatural angle, and she was about a whisker away from having both her wrist, elbow, and shoulder painfully dislocated. There also seemed to be a very heavy man kneeling on her shoulder joint with metal-shod kneecaps. "So what happened, darlin?" he asked her conversationally.

"I think I got hit by a train," she returned trying to wiggle out, it just hurt more, "Jesus, I forgot how much you fucking weigh," she managed, "You spun me around and now I'm kissing the mat. Without even asking it out on a date."

Logan just tsked at that and left the hold cinched in for a few seconds more - so she could really feel the burn - before he let her up. "Just like Spaniards in the laundry room." he joked. "So, now I do it slow to show you how it goes." he said. And he walked through the hold, from the initial deflection to the grab to the takedown - which had her eating mat once again - and to the final lock. "Got it?" he asked her, once again kneeling on her shoulder joint in just the right (wrong?) spot to cause maximum discomfort.

"Hey, where I take my fancy vibrator ain't any of your business," she returned once back on the mat. She had been quiet during the slower walk through because she was paying attention to the hold. It was hard not to, "Fuck, there has to be a pressure point there. But yeah, I think I got it."

"Good." he said. "Go get yourself another bottle and we'll switch it up." he said. She should like that - being on the defending end of another beer-bottle coming at her chest. He wouldn't actually break it against her but if he made contact before she got the deflection in she was going to pay for it.

Probably in pain and sweat.

"Fun times," Cammie said, standing up and rolling the ouch out of her shoulder before getting a bottle and tossing it towards him. She moved into position. "Ready," she said, hoping it was right. One way or another, she was going to learn this move.

Logan lunged in with the bottle and managed to make contact with her chest before she got the deflection in. He broke her attempt to throw him and had to actually fight an urge to break said bottle across her head. He was only moving at half-speed, no less. She was too focused on getting it down and not feeling it. Well, she'd be feeling _something_ soon.

"Too slow." he said. "Give me twenty and then we get to do it again. Continue to fuck it up and I'll have to get creative." he promised with a certain degree of relish.

Cammie swore and dropped for the pushups, if nothing else this was making her arms stronger. Or turning them slowly into rubber, she wasn't sure. "I'll get it," she said, standing up and getting ready again. "Come 'n get me. It'll be fun," she said, taking her stance.

Logan brandished his bottle - whole and undisturbed this time - and lunged at her again. This time around she got the deflection - barely - but her attempt at a throw left him still on his feet and left her way, way off-balance. "Are we dancin' here?" he asked her curiously. "Get your fucking hips into it, kid." he growled. "You move with it, like this." he said, demonstrating once again for his thick-of-skull student. "We're gonna try this one one more time. Half-speed. You blow this one and you'll owe me another forty as well as a nice long lap around the Mansion grounds." he said. Which, he didn't need to point out, was measured in miles.

"Think you can get it this time, or do I gotta motivate you some more?" he asked.

"You're a sadist, you know that?" Cammie said, shaking off the last fuck off and taking a deep breath, "Yeah. I'm ready," she said, shaking off the bluster and the crap that seemed to always mess her up on these the first forty times. She was not going to be running laps around the mansion. "You got me plenty motivated now."

Logan stepped through the attack again, and while it was ragged and sloppy, she executed the deflection, the throw, and the lock. "All right." he said, tapping out. "That's the motion. Remember how it feels, you're gonna be working on it a lot." he said. "Unless you really want to run that lap. You want to run the lap, Black?" he asked her.

"Fuck no," Cammie said, "I save my multi-mile runs for when I have torch wielding mobs after me," she said as she got up. She did it, and now she could keep practicing. And that would be the key to getting it and sending some asshole to the floor next time they tried to cut her open with their weapon of choice, "I'd rather keep working on this."