capeandcowllogs | ( take a look at the lawman beating up the wrong guy ) ( private )

( take a look at the lawman beating up the wrong guy ) ( private )

WHO: Nathan Summers and Scathach
WHERE: St. Jude's Hospital ruins.
WHEN: Today, afternoon.
SUMMARY: Nate calls on Scatty to spar. Another Summers boy gets his ass handed to him.
WARNINGS: UST? ~~LMFAO FRIENDSHIP OF HER THIGHS~~
FORMAT: Quick.

If he was going to take her on missions and to the...Xavier Institute Prom (which Cable might have been banned from, but he did not care) he should take the time to get to know her and one of the ways that Cable was able to get to know someone was through sparring. He had heard some things through the grapevine and picked up spare thoughts on Scathach, but that wasn't enough. He sent her a telepathic invitation for a spar and waited in the ruins of his former base. He cleared an area near the walkway and dropped his duffel bag there. As he waited for the woman, Cable levitated in the lotus position, mentally preparing him.

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It wasn't a stretch at all to say that Scathach wasn't used to having other people inside her head; she had her own demons to deal with, her own malicious mental voices, yes, but they were still a part of herself, part of her own mind. The very profound presence of another's psyche within her, though--that was something completely strange to her. She had absorbed other people's emotions, but they were different from thoughts--they didn't give her the personalities of the prey, merely their feelings.

But the invitation was received easily, as she had given Cable permission to enter her mind at any time after the L.A. mission, and she accepted readily. It had been a while since she had sparred properly, after all, and from what she had seen in California, he was more than an able opponent. The redhead jogged to the location he had given her, not flinching at the so obviously rundown appearance of the place. She had seen worse. She had brought her own duffel bag, and dropped it a few feet away from his, giving a nod in greeting.

"Good afternoon."

He cracked open one eye, watching Scathach jog to the location with her own duffel bag. He smirked and lowered himself to the ground. Standing straight on his feet, he extended a hand to his opponent.

"Welcome. I'm glad the weather didn't deter you." It was pouring down and a slight chillier than it had been the past few days and most definitely than it had been in Los Angeles. Cable had worked through harsher weather conditions, so he could care less about a little rain.

She had been trying to ignore the rain, and had been rather successful--until he had mentioned it. Scathach greatly disliked water, to say the least, and tried to stay away from it as much as possible. However, the Warrior would not deny Cable an opportunity to face her just because of a bit of rain.

It might have seemed strange to anyone who knew that she was more uncomfortable with the feeling of her damp clothing than the knowledge that, as it was all white, it was becoming rather translucent as the rain poured.

She took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Of course not," she replied easily, sure to keep the edge from her voice.

Good thing she was sparring with Cable who otherwise did not find nudity to be such a big deal unless it was in a more intimate setting. Scathach was attractive, but that was hardly the point of their fight.

"You have a strong handshake," he smirked and let go. "Rules are simple. No weapons, no powers, no cheap shots. If you can pin me down for ten seconds, you wind the round."

"So do you," she replied, with an equal smirk. It was easy to feel the confidence rolling off him, but she tried to ignore it; no powers meant no sensing his emotions, no taking advantage of any dismay or fear he might have felt. Though, for some reason, she doubted he'd be feeling any of that at all.

"Ten seconds, hm?" The redhead shoved her bangs out of her eyes, green eyes wide, vertical-slit pupils clefting her irises like a cat's. "I can do that."

No powers meant no telepathic probing and figuring out what her next move was. It meant no telekinesis to give him the extra advantage, but he knew how to fight without the use of his powers. He had spent plenty of years doing just that and not realizing it. Unlike other mutants, he did not rely on his genetic make up to get the job done.

"Ten seconds," Cable repeated before jumping straight into a combative stance and taking a swipe at her shoulder.

Scathach didn't bother replying; she stepped away from the attack, fluidly falling into her own stance, the phoenix. Body bent at the waist, arms sweeping up above her head like wings, palms facing the sky. It was both offensive and defensive, but she decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to go for a quick take-down, if at all possible.

So she flipped forward, hands finding just enough purchase on the muddy ground to support her weight as she flipped, flinging her legs over her head, feet aimed straight for his face.

If only she knew the irony of her stance--the Phoenix made his life. His mother was the clone of the embodiment of the Phoenix and he was sent into the future by the Clan that worshiped the very essence of the Phoenix. His whole life revolved around this great power. Maybe one day, Scathach could also be let in on the story.

For now, he brought both arms front, crossed to block the attack.

Her heels connected with his forearms, but she didn't let that faze her. She bent her body quickly, dropping her arms to absorb the force of her body falling towards the ground before she bent her knees, aiming another kick at his abdomen. Mud had already splashed all the way up to her elbows, and she mentally grimaced.

He composed himself, preparing for her next attack. Cable could not stay in the defensive position for long, but the longer she remained the offensive, the more time she had to wear herself out. He brought down his forearm to block her next attack and his other hand moved to her chin, palm out and curled into a fist.

Avoiding his attack would have just put her out of range to launch another one of her own, and so she took it square on the chin, her head snapping back at the force of the blow. Teeth grit, she dug the fingers of her left hand into the ground, bending her elbow and propelling herself away from the mud, her right hand outstretched, hand balled into a fist aimed at his kneecap.

She moved fast. Agility was her friend. Cable couldn't block the attack fast enough, momentarily caught up in his own successful blow to her chin. He grimaced, doubling over, but catching himself before his knees hit the ground. He swung his leg, aiming to knock her off her feet.

His leg did connect with her body, and she was thrown off balance for just a moment--but she rolled away, dead set against giving him the opportunity to pin her, even for a moment.

His shirt clung to his chest, drenched. As Scathach rolled away, he took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere in the ruins in a muddy heap. The techno-organic virus creeping up the left side of his torso and arm was fully visible now. He flexed his muscles and held his ground defensively.

The redhead took not even a full second to give him a once-over, appreciatively noting his well-muscled frame. Had it been in older times, she might have copied his gesture as a sign of defiance; but, as things stood in modern times, such a thing wasn't customary and it might have even been frowned upon.

Instead, she recovered herself, falling also into a defensive stance. It was his turn to make the moves.

Most of the time, Nate was completely oblivious to women (and men) checking out his body and this was another case of it flying straight over his head. It was about the fight for him and he charged in a series of moves reminiscent of the Askani martial arts.

For the first time, Scathach allowed open surprise to show on her face. She didn't know that fighting style, which was... well, unheard of. Her momentary confusion was not enough to mess up her guard though, and she was ready for him, arms raised slightly, ready to go up or down.

He aimed for her clavicle and her abdomen at once.

Having little idea as how to block both foreign attacks, she made sure to keep the one aimed towards her neck from hitting--that was more vital than her lower body. She grimaced as her abdomen took the blow, but wrapped her hands around his neck, tipping her head back for a head butt.

Their foreheads connected and Cable grunted at the impact. He staggered back, but cracking open one eye was pleased to see that she had also taken his hit. He wiped his forehead, bruising and wet, and kept his eyes focused and hard on Scathach.

Blinking rapidly to clear water from her eyes, the Shadow stepped back, not seeming fazed in the least at having cracked her skull against his. She could feel his pain, but forced it away, willing herself to remain as emotionless as possible; it wouldn't be fair to sense what he was feeling, and where, and exploit it.

"You're skilled," she said shortly, one hand fluttering over her abdomen for just a moment before returning to a defensive, raised position.

"So are you." His eyes flickered to her abdomen and he smirked, putting his fists up. "Is it true about your age?"

She began to circle him, almost as a predator might; after all, his species was her natural prey, and old habits died hard. She raised one eyebrow in surprise, though her eyes never left his face. Or was that his chest?

"That depends on what you've heard about it," she said.

"You're older than you look," he continued, eyes searching for a weak spot--any opening where he can take his shot. "A lot older."

A grin flashed across her mouth, revealing her unnaturally pointed and sharp incisors. "That would be true," she replied lightly. And then, self-consciousness descended for a moment: "How old do I look?"

Cable smirked, flashing his teeth back though it was definitely not as pointy. "Twenty-three."

The redhead nodded in approval. "Good answer," she said, before launching herself forward, hands outstretched to grab his arm for a flip.

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( take a look at the lawman beating up the wrong guy ) ( private )

SHE'LL GIVE HIM THE FRIENDSHIP OF HER FOOT-UP-HIS-ASS.....

JUST THE WAY HE LIKES IT

THAT'S ONLY SLIGHTLY CREEPY

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WOOPS

IT'S OKAY

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