xp_logs | Fight Club: Third Rule (backdated)

Backdated to Jan 20th. At an underground fight club, two guys with a host of personal issues to work out wind up in the ring together.

"Oh, you have got to be kiddin' me."

Angelo was pushing his way through the crowd in the club with an annoyed expression, heading for the centre of the room. A few moments before, he'd been hanging out by the bar minding his own business while he waited for the next event to start... and then he'd heard his own name called.

Along with another, unwelcomely familiar, name.

"Oh boy," Doug muttered. The crowds had been heavy enough that neither of the young men had had a clue the other one was there prior to their names being called. He could see Angelo now, though, making his way from the bar. Doug made his way from another side of the club down to the lowered ring that all sight lines in the club subtly drew the eye towards. Whoever had designed the place had been pretty savvy. He began swinging his arms back and forth as he went, mentally cataloging what he knew of Angelo's style, and how his power might affect the fight.

They arrived at almost the same moment, the crowds having started to move aside for them when they saw which way they were going. No one wanted to hold up the events they'd come to see.

"Didn't know you came to places like this, Ramsey", Angelo said curtly.

People hurried to their favorite spots for observing the fight, having picked up on the subtle tension between the upcoming opponents.

Doug toed off his shoes and dropped his unbuttoned overshirt on top of them. Finally, he peeled off a tight undershirt, revealing healing scars on his belly and arm, and a few very faded bruises. He shrugged at Angelo. "The things you don't know about me could fill a book," he replied, unable to resist the verbal jab. Besides, the variety of opponents, in a scenario that was a bit more than the carefully controlled sparring of his martial arts class, helped keep his fighting skills honed.

"Well, I sure as hell don't know you anymore", Angelo shot back as he stripped to the waist in turn, showing a lean but muscled torso and the scars he'd never tried to have removed.

"I'm the same person I've always been," Doug rejoined as he limbered up a bit more. "Maybe you don't -want- to know me anymore, but that's different."

"Less talk, more fighting!" a ringside observer yelled, answered by a roar of approval as the heavily muscled 'referee', who looked like he could take on either of the two young men, indicated with a gloved hand that the opponents could begin. Doug began moving forward, his hands up and half-curled into not quite fists, as he waited to see what Angelo was going to do.

"Let's give the people what they want", he muttered, eyed Doug for a moment, then lashed out at his wrists with his powers, aiming to pull him off balance before he launched a punch.

Doug twisted his hands down and away rapidly to break the hold, which he judged the more dangerous of the attacks. This left him out of position to block the followup punch, though, and he barely ducked his head to take it on a shoulder. His brain whirred, assessing options. His typical tactic of hanging back and letting an opponent come to him wasn't a good idea against Angelo's ability to strike from a greater range. And Angelo's skin and the flexibility it granted him made a standup grapple a chancy proposition. Which left mobility. Stick and move, try and wear Angelo down, or get a lucky shot in from out of his range of vision.

Doug circled to his right, continuing to roll with the impact of the punch, and lashed a kick with his left foot at Angelo's ribs, spinning with the momentum to throw a hooking kick with his right foot at Angelo's head.

Angelo caught it out of the corner of his eye and ducked, then lunged forward, aiming to drive his head into Doug's solar plexus and gain a little time for a next move. "I fought Wolverine an' walked away", he told his former friend. "Think you're a challenge after that?"

Oh good. A pissing contest while they fought. Doug's forearms against Angelo's shoulders blunted the worst of a move that would have otherwise left him gasping for breath. "And I've trained with the short-range precognitive who used to work with Wolverine, -plus- both of your exgirlfriends that I work with," he shot back. As Angelo pulled back for whatever he had in mind next, Doug brought one of his elbows up sharply into the other man's ear.

Angelo considered pissing contests to add to the fun, as well as keeping things heated if it was necessary. He jerked his head away, not quite in time to miss the blow, but shook it off in a moment and grabbed that arm, yanking it up and twisting with his left hand, punching for Doug's face with his right. "Likewise, except Angie. Plus Cable, Domino an' the entire Pack, on an' off."

Doug got his left arm in the way of Angelo's punch and held on, leaving each man with their left arm grabbing the other's right. "Remy," Doug said, stomping a foot toward Angelo's instep. When the other man shied back from it, Doug knew that it would leave him leaning forward, and brought the hardest point of his forehead down across the bridge of Angelo's nose. "Lebeau."

Angelo's nose broke with an audible crunch and a bitten-back howl, and he let the verbal confrontation drop and focused on the physical, ignoring the blood dripping down his face. Even as he staggered a few steps back, he was pulling Doug with him, and proceeded to yank the younger man closer and knee him in the gut.

Doug grunted at the impact. Tensing his abdominal muscles had softened the blow, but not by much. And Angelo was playing for keeps as much as he was. And Angelo's powers meant that he could absorb more punishment in the long run. He let go of Angelo's right arm with his left hand, reaching down to hook under Angelo's upraised knee, and then bullrushed forward, driving him hard to the ground with a shoulder in his gut.

Angelo was partly winded by this... but only a little. He hadn't forgotten the trick he'd learned on the space station, and he'd had just enough time to use it. Doug bounced, and Angelo caught him and held him with ribbons of skin as he bounded back to his feet. He looked at Doug with the light combat always put into his eyes, then grinned, blood staining his mouth from where it had trickled down, and headbutted Doug in the face.

And that right there was an object lesson in just why grappling a man with several feet of extra skin was a categorically bad idea, Doug's savagely self-critical inner self chided him. Not to mention that he had just about finished recovering from the last headbutt he'd taken in the face, when he'd been attacked and nearly killed.

Angelo still had a good grip on him, so Doug blew air sharply out his nose to help clear it of blood, then spat it all right into Angelo's grinning face. It helped him be able to catch his breath, plus it temporarily blinded Angelo. He tensed his muscles, then relaxed them to give himself a bit of wiggle room within Angelo's grasp. He pulled one leg up far enough to brace a foot on Angelo's thigh, then twisted sharply to one side to break the grip. As he continued to turn, he brought his other foot up to plant against Angelo's chest, using both feet to launch himself away into a ducking roll.

Angelo let him go, using the time to wipe his eyes clear, before he glanced around for his opponent. "Haven't had enough already, have you?"

The answer was Doug, flying back in, fist-first. He'd twisted with the dive, counting on Angelo to do what he'd just done, and give him a free shot if he could move fast enough to take it.

He did, to a point - Angelo had tried to recoil but there just hadn't been enough time before Doug's fist crashed into his face. His response was to lash out with his powers before he'd even recovered, trying to take Doug to the ground.

As Doug was borne to the ground, he scythed his legs through Angelo's ankles, looking to trip him up and bring him down to the ground as well.

Angelo stumbled at the unexpected kick, toppling towards the ring... but then thick strands of skin shot from his hands, breaking his fall almost as if he'd dropped into a handstand, and he disentangled his legs and sprang back upright. "Nice try", he said, planting a foot between Doug's shoulders.

Angelo's foot between his shoulder blades didn't leave him a lot of leverage, but as the other man was regaining his balance, Doug managed to push himself up far enough to get an arm around Angelo's ankle and jerk at it.

This time, Angelo didn't fight being thrown off balance. Instead, he went with it, directing his fall the way he wanted... and landed with both knees in Doug's lower back and all his weight behind them.

Doug grunted hard at the impact, his back arching and then his head crashing back down to the floor. He tried once more to buck Angelo off of him, but the other man got an arm around his neck and his head pulled back. After more struggling, Doug finally slapped his free hand against the floor, tapping out. The referee quickly stepped in, pulling at Angelo to ensure that both fighters respected the designated end of the fight.

Personal anger or not, Angelo knew the rules and didn't want to be barred from the club. He released his grip on Doug and rolled back until he was crouched on the floor.

Doug rose slowly, with a hand at the small of his back the only indication he gave of pain. He was probably going to have an uncomfortable time peeing after the knees in the kidneys, but that was the price you paid sometimes for being at a club like this one. He nodded at Angelo and offered a hand to shake. He was pretty sure they both knew that they'd each had some extra fight left if it had been for keeps, and that it probably could have gone either way.

Angelo looked pointedly at the outstretched hand for a moment before he shook it. Certain things were expected, but he didn't have to be enthusiastic about it.

Doug shook Angelo's hand. He'd worked out his frustrations, but clearly Angelo was still holding on to some of his. Doug supposed that made sense, as he wasn't really angry with Angelo, but Angelo was angry with him. Still, he'd hoped that the testosterone and beating the crap out of each other might have helped. Maybe a further olive branch might help... "Buy the winner a beer?" he asked quietly as the next matchup was being announced and they vacated the ring.

"Sure", he said after a brief hesitation. After all, it couldn't hurt. Maybe there'd even be an explanation he'd listen to.

The bartender at the club was another reason people kept coming back - he never forgot a face, or the drink that went with it. All it took was the universal two fingers, then pointing at himself and Angelo, to have their usual beers - Angelo's some relatively obscure Mexican import, Doug's a more generic local microbrew - waiting for them as they reached the bar. "How's law school?" Doug asked, not exactly wanting to jump straight into the heavy conversational territory they were almost certainly going to end up in.

"Busy", was the brusque answer, but at least Angelo was looking at him. "But I knew it would be. It's worth it."

Doug nodded. Angelo would make a good lawyer, the sort that would defend those who needed it, and fight the fights worth fighting. "How's your mom? I saw about that graffiti shit." Doug had done his own quiet investigating, but hadn't gotten much of anything out of it.

"She's pissed", Angelo said with a grimace. "I'm tryin' to talk her into movin', but she's bein' stubborn."

Doug grunted. Angelo came by his own stubbornness honestly, not that he was about to actually say that. "I did some digging myself, but nobody's really talking," he said. "And it's not even a gringo thing." Doug had a reputation in the Latino community around Mrs. Espinosa's and Mama Lupe's as something of an honorary Latino, thanks to his fluency and cultural understanding that came with his power. "You'd think some 'banger would be feeling his oats and yakking up a storm, but nothing."

Angelo shook his head. "This isn't a 'banger thing. Might look like it, with the graffiti, but there's rules. You don't mess with a guy's family unless he brings them into it first, and I'm not even in that world anymore myself. This is just some coward hasn't got the cojones to say it face to face."

"Yeah." Doug took a long swig from his beer to clean the bad taste out of his mouth. "That's about what I was figuring, but I was kind of hoping you had a different read on it."

"Wish I did too." He took a drink of his own. "That kind of thing, I know how to deal with."

The silence stretched out, uncomfortably long. Doug grimaced. He was secretly hoping he wouldn't have had to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry," he finally said as a blanket apology, clearly not talking about Angelo's mother anymore, but at a loss for what else to say.

Angelo gave him a sideways look. "You had to know I'd find out."

"I wasn't exactly going to keep it a secret," Doug replied with a shrug. "There's a difference between privacy and secrecy. The Club is a private one, not a secret one." It was a very fine line of distinction at times, but it was still there. "And I didn't enjoy it, I just thought it was the best possible outcome out of a host of even worse ones."

"See, that's what I'm not gettin'", Angelo said with sudden heat, turning back towards him. "What was worse? Club war? No one wanted Selene around, the way I hear it."

"It could have gone that far, yes." Doug traced a circle on the bar, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. "Shaw hated Selene, sure. But he hates weakness more. And without a replacement already in the wings, the Black Court would have been much weaker than the White. So without the deal, he would have supported Selene, even as little as he cared for her." The tone in his voice suggested this wasn't just theory, this was more or less fact, based on careful observation of Shaw and others.

"And that would've meant you couldn't kill her", Angelo said uncertainly, not sure he was right. "Or killin' her would have set things off?"

"A little of both. We could have still killed her, and then it all would have gone pear-shaped." Just because the Hellfire Club was about wheels within wheels, and not direct confrontation, didn't mean that any of the members couldn't cause huge problems when pushed into a corner. "Think of what Emma Frost could do with all of her money and resources. Now imagine her with even less scruples." Doug chuckled darkly. "That's Sebastian Shaw."

"And that's the kind of world you're movin' in these days", Angelo pointed out. "I know, better the White than the Black... but not by much."

"Friends close, enemies closer," Doug said wryly. "I only trust any member of the court," even Emma, was the clear unspoken implication, "to be exactly what they are." He shook his head. "I'd rather Belladonna be where I know what she's up to than out on the run with god knows who, as cold as that is." He took another long sip. "And it put Selene in the ground for good with almost no collateral damage," he said icily, clearly still angry at the dead witch for the things she had done to Amanda.

Minus the damage to my friendships, anyway, he thought sadly.

Angelo sighed. "Look, Doug... you know I've got no love for the Hellfire Club, an' even less for Belladonna Boudreaux - one day, I'll see her get hers. I can see how you thought it was the best thing to do, an' it did get Selene dead, but what worries me it was cold. You're startin' to think like Emma, an' you haven't even worked for her that long."

Doug nodded. That was a fair assessment, he had to admit. "She's not the only one, though. Marie-Ange..." He took a long pull at his beer. "She left for New Orleans a while back, without really telling anyone why." He grimaced. "Left me a 'dear John' letter in our apartment."

"You know I like Emma", Angelo added. "But trust her? Not on your life. As for Marie-Ange... maybe she saw something. Wouldn't be the first time a precog's taken stuff into their own hands."

"Except that we promised each other to stop keeping secrets," Doug muttered. "Pot, kettle..."

"I've made that promise", Angelo said, not without sympathy. "Easier said than done, keeping it."

"Tell me about it," Doug grunted, signalling for another pair of beers.