Matt & Logan: Friday - Late Afternoon (Backdated)

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Matt's having a bad day craving wise and Logan runs into him in the gym. Some training follows and Logan ends up with another student.


It didn't take mutant sonar powers for Matt to find the punching bag. He'd grown up with it, his father using it regularly in the gym and teaching his son as well. Jack Murdock had never wanted his son to fight, but boxing was a sport and that he was willing to teach the child, at least a little. Matt was no boxer, but he could throw a punch and right now, he was beating the bag with everything he had. The urges were worse today and it was so damn frustrating! He hated feeling like this, hated what happened - what he did - to himself. All he wanted was to get through it, get past it and get them to stop.

Logan could hear the poundin' the punching bag was takin' even before he opened the door to the gym. He normally didn't find that many people in there when he came by. Most seemed to do their exercisin' elsewhere or used the Danger Room and its scenarios. He was a little surprised who he saw dolin' the punishment out. Tall, lanky redhead who smelled stressed and possibly angry. He didn't smell anything but stressed but either way he was seriously workin' something out. He gave a vague nod in the kid's direction. Never knew what kinds of powers mutations brought. He moved toward the center of the padded area and started to stretch.

Normally, Matt worked his urges out on the high bar in the gym or the parallel bars, but this required something more intense than dislocated joints. Pausing after the door opened, Matt stopped the bag before it hit him, breathing hard and sweat giving his body a sheen. Freckles covered his face and arms, longish wet hair plastered against his skull. "I don't know you," he stated as he caught his breath. "Who are you?"

Logan turned to face the kid but continued to do some stretches. "I'm Logan. Just got back from Asia. It's been a while since I've been around. Who're you? Don't remember you from before." He didn't know what to make of the kid. Despite bein' covered in sweat, Logan hadn't thought the kid would've stopped from beatin' the shit out of the bag. It'd looked like he'd had some trainin' too.

"Matt," he replied, "I've been here a couple years now," he'd arrived shortly before his 16th birthday and he would be 18 in May. It was the longest placement he'd had since going into foster care and he liked this place the best, too. He didn't turn to face the other man as he spoke, though he did stretch his shoulders, swinging his arms around. He was still growing and hadn't filled out yet through the shoulders or chest, but he had the beginnings of some muscle.

"Just 'bout all the time I was gone then." Logan watched the kid for a moment and there was a wealth of story there he wasn't gettin' but whatever, not his business anyway. "Didn't mean to interrupt your workout. Just came down to get one myself." He rolled his head side to side, poppin' a coupla vertebrae along the way before he moved to begin a kata.

The popping, grinding bones grated on Matt's ears, exacerbated by his already bothered mental state. Tucking one arm under the other, he tugged his boxing gloves off' to reveal wrapped hands. Tossing the gloves off to the side, he adjusted his stance and went back to hitting the bag. Nearly bare-knuckled felt better, more solid, than using the gloves and he wished he hadn't even bothered with them earlier. The sound of flesh on the leather was very satisfying.

The sound of unpadded hands against the weighted mass of the bag made Logan pause and glance the kid's way. He was gonna have some serious swelling and numb hands by the time he was done but if that was what he wanted then he'd leave him to it. He shook his head and returned to the flowing rhythm of his katas. The nearly rhythmic thwacks were soothin' in a way and helped center Logan in addition to the movements.

Matt didn't care, he was used to heightened senses, so he just got used to it. Most people with heightened senses didn't have heightened touch after all. "What are you doing?" he asked, there was plenty of reverberation in the room to give him a good image of what the other man was doing, even if he didn't understand it. That was one of the problems with sonar. He received glimpses as the sound moved in waves, not the entire picture. When it was something he was familiar with, he did alright. When it wasn't, he sometimes had trouble putting things together

The kid's voice broke the almost meditative state Logan'd been in as he finished the last move in the kata. "It's called a kata, or form. It's a way to practice the martial arts movements until they become engrained muscle memory. They're also a nice way to relax too." He used the next kata to pivot himself to be able to look at the kid better. "You done beatin' the shit outta that bag? Your hands might thank you if you are."

Pausing, Matt flexed his hands back and forth as if he only now realized that he'd removed his gloves. Feeling them, he unwrapped one hand, running his fingertips over his knuckles to check them gently. Sighing, he nodded, "For now," he muttered, going to sit against the wall where the gloves were tossed and reaching for his water bottle. He doesn't feel much better, but he's tireder, which is something. A break wouldn't hurt. Messing his hands up wouldn't help him at all, they were his eyes. It wasn't like he was fighting the bag anyways.

Lookin' at him now, Logan had a pretty good idea what he'd been doin'. He wondered if any of the other teachers knew though the kid probably knew just how far he could push himself without doin' any serious harm. He walked closer to the kid and squatted so they were level. He hadn't paid much attention but now he could see somethin' was off about the kid's eyes but he'd known what he was doin'. Logan shrugged. He wasn't sure how well his buttin' in would go over, but why the hell not. "There're better ways to tire yourself out than beatin' your hands to a pulp."

"It's distracting," he replied, sniffing slightly. Logan smelled like cigar smoke, sweat and outside. It wasn't a bad smell, it reminded him a little of his father. Granted, Jack Murdock was more beer, sweat and New York pollution, but close enough. "Distraction is good. So's sleeping. And some days just need the heavy bag."

Logan could understand the need for just the pure physical movement and release. "I hear ya. Sometimes it's better to hit something that thinks a bit more than the bag." He noticed the kid sniffin' and wondered if maybe he should consider givin' up the cigars. It'd be a bitch to go without 'em especially since he used them as a barrier between the outside world and his senses. "Enhanced senses, kid? Cigars ain't botherin' you are they?"

Matt shrugged, "I've smelled worse," he replied. Cigars were strong, but it wasn't as if he hadn't smelled them before or things that smelled worse, even if they weren't as strong. Puke. Blood. Death. Alcohol had it's own pungent odor as well, especially when someone drank so much it permeated their skin. He'd learned all of these at a young age. "I'm in enough shit right now, I don't need to go wailin' on someone just because I can't cope." Technically, he wasn't in trouble, not outside of the drug issue from the summer. The problem however, was that it was a big issue and it had only been about 6 months. He had only been clean for about a year before he'd relapsed. He wouldn't be out of the dog house until he made it at least a year this time. And more. "I'm not that out of it that I can't think through bad decisions."

"They're an effective means of wallin' off all the other smells somewhat. I'd offer ya one but I think Summers might blow a gasket." He flicked his gaze toward the kid's hands which were still over bright and a deep red. "And from the looks of it, you ain't got a healin' factor to stave off the toxins." Logan shifted to a sittin' position on the floor with his legs crossed. "I ain't talkin' about anyone. I'm talkin' about me. Ya could wail on me all you want and no one but us would be the wiser, not that I'd just stand there. I'd teach ya to fight some too and some katas if you wanted. Who they got trainin' you anyway?"

"I don't smoke," Matt replied automatically. He didn't smoke or drink. He also didn't like coffee or soda. The joys of being the son of an addict, an addict himself and having a heightened sense of taste. "Wade and Kyle. Mr. Gibney," he replied, "One on one self-defense and defense with a staff. I left that in my room though," he paused for a moment, "And Miss Colbert gave me a billy club not too long ago. It's kinda like my cane," staff, cane, still defensive.

Well, shit. He'd fucked that up though now he knew just what the kid was tryin' to beat out of his system. Well it figured. Enhanced senses, get the feral to the teach the kid about his powers. He didn't know much about Wade's past other than a fucked up military had gotten a hold of him too. Even without knowin' that, it was pretty easy to tell Wade had a military background. Lethality colored his every casual movement. Logan nodded. "Got you with the right people there. But self defense gets old and you already got some fight trainin' in you already. Somebody good taught you how to punch."

"My dad," Matt replied, relaxing a little. The urge was still there as he spoke, persistent and nagging, "He was a professional boxer, but he didn't want me fighting," he snorted, but didn't bother with the useless gesture of rolling his eyes, "Not that it ever stopped me if it needed doing. I might be blind, but I'm not some push-over," that explained the milky blue eyes and faint scars around them that made him look older than his 17 years.

"Noble thing your dad tried to do but sometimes you just gotta fight, to own your life and your self respect." So that explained the kid's scars. The rest of if, he'd leave to the kid to decide if and when to tell him. "What's the extent of your powers, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Life was a fight from the day you were born. From your first breath to the last. Matt had learned that. Sometimes the fight was easier than others, but it never went away. "Enhanced senses. All but the obvious," because his first response when he'd been told he was a mutant with enhanced senses had been to point out his blindness. "I'm not a feral though, if you were wondering. And I can use sound like a sonar. Gives me at least some idea of my surroundings and all that so I'm not...quite as blind. If that makes sense," he still had no idea how to really explain it to people who didn't experience the world as he did.

Logan was kinda glad he didn't have all his senses enhanced. Imaginin' what his claws would feel like slidin' through his skin made him clench his jaw. Not pleasant. He couldn't wrap his head around enhanced taste but he had a hunch it made eatin' a hell of a lot trickier. "Yeah, it makes sense. It apply to all sound or a specific range?" He wondered how sensitive the kid's hearin' was. He'd already smelled the cigar smoke still lingerin' on his clothes even though the last time he'd had one had been before he'd arrived back in the States. He could only just smell it himself.

Matt did not share Doug's love for spicy food. Not at all. Ever. "I've got a range. Not sure of the decibel levels, but depending on if I focus, I can hear pretty much anything around me. Heartbeats. Down the hall. Down the block," not so much down the block here in Westchester since there wasn't as much sound, but in New York, he could hear for a several block radius. "If things are too loud for too long I sometimes get migraines. I used to get them a lot, before I knew I was a mutant and learned to control my powers," he paused, then continued, "I got addicted to painkillers trying to control them. Then...harder stuff. Today's...not a good day," not at all. He stood, agitated and pulled the gloves back on to go back to the bag.

"Never gets too loud out here for the most part," which the kid probably knew since he'd been here a coupla years already. "You probably got the edge on those over me but not by much." He hadn't been expectin' the admission at all much less in their first talk together. He hadn't even been tryin' to coax it out of him. Logan watched him pull the gloves back on with an ease that spoke of familiarity. "You thought about learnin' to spar? Sometimes, when it's not so bad, tradin' blows with someone and workin' on technique provides a good distraction."

That he was an addict was no secret here, Matt honestly assumed Logan already knew. "My room's soundproofed, which helps," he replied, giving the bag a couple whacks just because. "Yeah, sure. I can do that. I don't know any fancy katas though," but he could throw a proper right hook. Hopefully Logan knew how not to get himself hurt sparring, too. Kyle and Wade were both good at avoiding any mishaps in class.

"I bet." Logan pushed to his feet and twisted his body from side to side. "Eh, you don't need 'em for sparrin'. I can teach you the katas if you want though. I also got a bunch of other fightin' maneuvers I could show ya too, if you get bored with the self defense. We could also put that self defense of yours to practice in sparrin' too. See how well you adapt to usin' the moves against fightin' styles you're not familiar with. Though I taught some of what I know to Gibney so it might not be completely new." He stretched his arms over his head. "I mean if you're wantin' me to teach ya."

"Sure," anything to try to get his mind off the need right now. Damn Slendermen. Matt turned to face Logan, "What do I need to do?" He had been thinking about joining the X-Men when he turned 18, and while that decision wasn't finalized, he knew there was more than simply self defense. "Should I go get my cane?" It was titanium so it wouldn't break and he could use it as a weapon if needed.

"Don't think teachin' right now would do you much good. We'll get to that on another day. So how 'bout we just trade some blows and see how well you can adapt those punches to somethin' that ain't a bag?" He was just collectin' people to train left and right. He could use it as practice for if he was reinstated to teach a class again. "Why not. We can see if you can adapt that to takin' action instead of just reactin'. Sound good to you?"

"Be right back," Matt replied, excited. Dashing off full of youthful energy despite the walking he just gave the punching bag, he ran to get his cane.

Coming back a couple minutes later, Matt clutched a folded white cane with a red tip in one hand. Unfolding it and tapping it once against the floor, he assumed a 'ready' position like he'd been taught, the cane held across his body defensively.

Logan shook his head and smiled when the kid ran out, not expectin' the burst of energy. It was gonna make this next little bit interestin' and at least the kid seemed to be lookin' forward to it. It'd be easier to keep his mind off his cravin' that way and maybe the kid wouldn't need to completely work himself to exhaustion this time. He looked the kid over critically when he came back in. Maybe at some point they'd work up to him usin' the claws while they sparred but definitely not now. He didn't give the kid any warnin'. Just launched himself at him and threw a few cursory punches to test his abilities and reflexes.

Matt's sonar gave him plenty of warning about Logan's attack, he'd already figured out that most people's graduate changed subtly before they did it and Logan was no exception. It wasn't a lot of warning, but it was something. Blocking with his cane, Matt used classic boxing moves for the moment, those still coming slightly more naturally than some other things.

Those weren't the typical self defense moves he'd seen Barton demonstrate durin' their trainin' session. He figured the kid would revert back to the stuff he'd learned before comin' to the mansion since he'd been plenty comfortable with the punch bag. The kid was good with a head on attack but what if he...came at him from behind? Logan used his next rush of attacks to take him past the kid until he was behind him, spinning quickly to throw punches at the kid's unprotected back.

Matt's sonar worked 360 degrees, unfortunately, his joints did not. Using some of the self defense moves he'd been taught, Matt tired to turn, tripping himself on accident with Logan's punches. "Fuck! My kidneys!" He gasped, not that Logan had hit him there.

So his sonar worked all the way around. Handy, but they'd need to work on his reactions. In a fight no one was just gonna come at you head on especially not if there were a group of 'em. "Kid, I know for a fact I didn't hit your kidneys. You okay?" He stood close but not too close and would offer him a hand up, but he didn't want to wound the kid's pride. He'd already proved more than capable of handlin' himself. Maybe the kid's body had finally said enough was enough.

"Yeah," his hair was in his face, but that didn't bother Matt at all. Getting up, he stretched for a second before resuming his defensive stance, "Again," this time he'd be ready our at least, more ready.

Not exhausted then. Logan could work with that though he wondered how far past his endurance the kid usually pushed himself. "Guess they haven't got you facin' anything but direct attacks." He waited barely a second longer after the kid was ready before he launched himself forward. He used the same general form of distractin' punches then slidin' past to attack from behind.

"Not always," Matt gasped, but that was most of it simply because with self defense came powers training and even with his powers, he was still blind. He was a very hands on learner. This time, Matt was more ready, landing a glancing blow with his cane against Logan's arm and side. It wouldn't stop him, but it beat falling over over his own feet.

Kid was pretty close to exhausted and another run should probably end it. He should be exhausted enough he should drop once he got back to his room. He grinned when the kid actually managed to land a blow this time. "They probably got good reason to but, well, I subscribe to a different philosophy." He let the kid set up again then charged once more.

Most of the fights Matt had been in had been face to face, so even with training other ways he didn't use it as often. When Logan came at him again, Matt didn't do much better than before, gasping and out of breath. Okay, he was done whether he wanted to be or not.

Logan looked at the kid lyin' prone on the floor, gaspin' for air. "Think we're done for the day." The kid had been wantin' exhaustion and he'd gotten it though he wasn't sure the kid could make it back to his room now. "Still wantin' me to train you? 'Cause I train people to win, not just walk away and live. Or at the least take a hell of a lot of 'em down with 'em. You're only as weak as you let yourself be." The kid seemed to think along the same lines he did and he'd rather him see him trained and ready to face anything instead of easy prey for whatever came after him next.

It didn't take Matt any time to come to a decision, "Yeah," he managed. "First step to winning is living," he panted, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. "The rest is just details. Anyways, I'm a Murdock. We're fighters," maybe not the brightest all the time, but they were tough.