tampered | log, ongoing

log, ongoing

When; wednesday evening!
Rating; pg13? language, violence and mutants.
Characters; Logan [

alittlecredit]
Summary; Rictor needs his punk ass kicked. Logan is good at kicking punk asses.
Log;

Ric is in a bad mood. Bad mood really doesn't begin to explain it. Not hopeless, not nervous, just bad. True enough someone-- someone being a girl he knows, which complicates matters --gave him his powers back. But Madrox is being Madrox and redistributing responsibilities and he doesn't want these responsibilities. He doesn't want Madrox to just screw off whenever he feels like it. He doesn't want to live in that kind of an atmosphere anymore.

So when Wolverine decides to push, Rictor decides to show. Which is why he's now waiting on the beach with his hands in his pockets, sitting on a big piece of beechwood that must have drifted up during a storm and lodged itself a few yards away from the treeline.

Yep. He's gonna kick Wolverine's ass.

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Because plenty of people haven't tried that before. And sure, it's happened. There are even a few people in the world Logan is pretty sure he couldn't take. But that list is quite short, and Julio Richter is definitely not on it.

He's having his own share of frustrations lately. Trying to take care of this rabble of mutants is grinding on his nerves daily, reminding him why Scott was always the leader and why Emma is the teacher and why he gets to run around the world and kill things. Not to mention just thinking about Scott reminds him of what happened before he arrived here and makes him want to punch his old friend a few times.

Ric getting his powers back from some chick with blood magic powers is just the icing on the cake. Does nobody but him see what a big deal this is?

Oh, and Kitty just left. That just makes this night even better.

He shows up on the beach after sundown, his only concession to the battle being leaving his nice new boots at home. He tracked Richter by his scent and prowled up quietly behind him just to be a dick.

"You ready to do this?"

He jumps visibly and turns around to face Logan with an angry, startled expression, hand facing toward the man on a flat plane, knuckles up. His body relaxes when he realizes who's sneaked up on him, but the scowl deepens. Who likes being snuck up on, and who likes being snuck up on a near-authority figure any more than that.

"I've been ready for like half of my life. You can't even make me do punishment games if I lose."

He slides off of the piece of wood and shoots Wolverine a look of cocky apprehension before marching down the sand with his shoulders back and his arms crossed defensively across his chest.

Richter should have taken that shot when he had the chance. Logan could have broken his hand, of course, but it was the thought that counted. Richter was trying hard to be angry, but he wasn't angry enough. The whole point of this exercise was to find out where his powers were at, whether he was in full control of his powers, and to let off some steam. That didn't mean he'd pull his punches, though.

Before following Ric down to the treeline, Logan removed his jacket and hung it from the end of the log. He'd feel better going barefoot, but he didn't want Ric to get the wrong impression - ie, that he was taking this little skirmish seriously. When he was finally facing the other man he made an age-old "come here" gesture and jerked his chin upwards with a faint smirk. No claws yet.

"Alright then, let's see what you remember."

Rictor's never been one to think first and act later, but he's also never been one to react first. He doesn't take his shots when he has the chance, he takes his shots when he feels like it. He always has.

When Logan throws him a taunt, the corner of his lip twitches at the familiarity of it. He hasn't been able to do something like this for a lot longer than he felt like only a few days ago, and he probably shouldn't be excited for it-- he was a private dick now --but he is. Instead of moving forward to engage him (his idea of martial arts being kicking someone in the crotch and running), he shuffles a few steps backward and claps his hands together roughly, sending out a mild shockwave that distorts the air for a second.

"I'm like an elephant, man."

"Elephantman, hunh? That your new codename?"

The banter is almost autopilot as Logan clicks into fight mode, rolling his shoulders and settling into a casual stance, one foot forward and one foot back for stability. He knows what Ric can do, Ric knows what he can do, and they're not very well-matched, the earth-moving powers more of a long-range effect while Logan has always been close-range. But there are ways of getting around that, and Logan wonders if Ric still remembers enough about tactics to know how to keep someone like him from getting close enough to gut him. It'll be interesting.

With a grin that's more a showing of teeth, Logan pops the claws with an snickt that's audible over the sound of the ocean.

"Well?"

[ooc: sorry back, feeling tired and ultralazy lately myself. we'll get there eventually~~~ ;;;]

Ric, for his part, tries not to let him concentrate too totally on talking smack back at Logan, instead doing his best to maintain some kind of distance between the two of the. He's experienced enough to realize it's his only advantage, and he may as well press it.

He's not even sure how to know he's won. He's pretty sure this isn't a win scenario. It was like fighting Cable. You didn't win-- you just hoped you impressed him enough he didn't send you on a march over the Arizona hills. Ideally, he can just build up a charge in one hand and use the rest of himself to keep Wolverine a reasonable distance away until he has a shot able to knock the other guy's teeth out.

"You think you're funny but you're really really not."

Rictor drops one heel into the sand, seismic resonance turning it into a line of something with the properties of quicksand in a wave headed toward the other man.

Logan doesn't really have the patience at the moment to go easy on Ric. Even if he doesn't intend to take the guy's head off, he'd like for it to seem like he would. Get him into a panic, see what happens. Hopefully not a major City-destroying earthquake.

He eyed the oncoming wave with something approaching irritation before leaping over it as it passed. No, this wasn't going to be as easy as it could be, but there were ways. For now, he'd settle for sprinting in Ric's direction as soon as he hit the ground, claws out. Why bother with tactics if the direct approach would work?

A confrontation like this from Shatterstar or Jimmy or even Rahne wouldn't mean much, but Rictor's never gone toe to toe with Wolverine before, not ever-- they weren't suited for it, really. And Rictor has too many bad memories of being nearly eviscerated by Sabertooth to take this as well as he should be, and he's too out of practice.

His face blanches when Wolverine refuses to play it his way and charges forward instead, and he falls back on his haunches in the sand, trying to back up as quickly as possible. Without the claws, his reach is long, and he could reach Logan's head and give him a good reminder of how his skull fits together. But the claws are long, so he struggles to get back up and run, tossing a handful of the stuff at Wolverine's face (because winning dirty is still winning) and jamming the charge he was building up into the ground with the hand lifting him off the ground.

It's meant to raise a barrier, sending the ground straight up, but the force goes horizontally instead, knocking Julio off balance and a few feet away.

"Are you psycho?"

The combination of the sand in the face and the ground jerking causes Logan to stumble, but he catches himself before hitting the ground. He can hear and smell that Richter's within pouncing distance and he could find him without his eyes if he had to, but instead he takes the time to wipe off his face and get up slowly. Julio had frozen like a kid and Logan's not sure if he's relieved or worried about that.

For now he trudges forward in the sand, claws still out, keeping his face suitably intimidating.

"You're the one who agreed to a fight, Ricky."

"A fight, not a knife show. If I wanted to wrestle I'd take up karate."

Rictor never did like being cut. Shoot him a hundred times, crush his legs, he'd be fine, but just don't cut him. He stares at Logan out of the corner of a nervous brown eye before struggling to his feet and looking around while making a run for it. His strength always had been in the flexibility of his mutation, but he's out of practice, mentally and physically, and there are guilty memories tugging at his patience. He' already getting stressed out, the same as when he went to save Terry.

He finds small smooth rocks and grabs some of them, still working small time to build up enough of a shock to knock a man like Wolverine out. They're tossed toward Logan with another, harder clap from Rictor to let them ride the shockwave.

The stones hit like, well, stones travelling at the speed of sound would hit like. Logan let out a low hiss, but it didn't slow him down. His temper's been hanging by a thread lately and the irritating pain is just niggling at little at that last little thread. It occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't have done this - he's been spoiling for a fight and he might snap and do something he'd regret.

"What kinda fight are you thinkin' of then, Julio?"

It takes a lot of self-control to snikt the claws back into his arms, but that doesn't mean he's not going to pound the shit out of this idiot. He doesn't need the claws, and maybe without them to remind him Richter will get cocky enough to let him get in close.

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