10713/Claws and Magnetism

Claws and Magnetism
Date of Scene:	09 April 2022
Location:	Training Room
Synopsis:	Lorna spars with Creed in a simulated Madripoor landscape. Creed ultimately wins but not without getting a chest full of shrapnel in the process.
Cast of Characters:	Victor Creed, Lorna Dane

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Victor Creed has posed:
Victor occasionally agrees to play drill sergeant for some of the other inhabitants of the asteroid. It's one of the few reasons he's caught dead inside the training room. He has an instinctive dislike of the uncanny nature of it. It was fake. You couldn't really get hurt. That made some of his trump card not really valuable in the simulations.

Still, scaring a few green horns while showing them how to properly shank an adversary from behind had its fun moments. A class of wide-eyed maybe a little green behind the gills mutants make their exit from the training room. A simulated soldier's body lies dead on the ground, kidney punctured a few times by one of victor's claws.

The fake adversary fizzles away once the A.I. has concluded the exercise is over. Victor looks down at his claw with a frown and its clean state. He looks down at his track pants, boots and tank-top, also noticing the lack of any evidence of violence. "Never the same."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna Dane stood outside the door to the training area watching the recruits file past her. Some give a nod, some gasp at the unexpected sight of her there in her 'work' uniform. A green and white bodysuit with boots that did NOT have heels. She knew better than to try and fight in those. That was a surefire way to a broken ankle or worse.

Her attention shifts inside to smirk faintly at the sight of Victor there regarding his bloodless claws. Even his remark is noted along with a nod as she steps inside past the last lingering recruits. "Not enjoying the simulations?" Comes her inquiry as she strides further in. Both hands lift to sweep her hair behind her gathering it in a ponytail caught up with a hairtie.

"If you're bored we could spar some though I would have to request not to the death, naturally." Was she insane? Bored? Mostly bored. There was an anxious tension to her at the suggestion but also a stubborn determination to her as she stood there waiting for an answer with one hand on her hip. "I need to stay on my toes even as a ruler. Much as she'd like to always be there, Clarice isn't going to be around all the time to blink me to safety."

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor gives Lorna the side eye and considers. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, senses taking in the new arrival. He rubs his fingertips together looking back down at them offering a low chuckle. "Eh, why not."

He gestures around, "Your call on the situation, y'majesty." There's an edge of sarcasm in the honorific.

"Course not to the death. I don't feel testin' my healin' factor by floatin' out in space for a few hours." He scratches his scalp through the long mane of blonde hair that cascades down his neck.

"Course, if I rough you up. You can't run to daddy, Mystique, or Blink. Not that I'd expect you to." He rests his clawed hands on his hips offering a grin that accentuates his fangs. "Too much pride in you, I think."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"Why on Earth would I run to them about anything?" That remark actually brings a mild bit of confusion to her that's quickly dismissed with a shake of her head. "I'm the one asking for the match. I can take responsibility for my decisions." Here she pauses, allowing herself a grin, "I'm a fully grown woman after all. Though. Before we start."

Here she turns toward the intercom on the wall near the door. A button is hit, and it connects a moment later to whomever was currently doing security for the station. "Make sure there's a healing capable member available for the training room, please. Have them wait outside." With the order given the green haired monarch turns back toward Victor with a grin. "Not all of us have healing factors."

Turning back she stretches her arms overhead languidly earning a few little crack-pops of stiffness from her spine. "Do we really need a scenario? Oh I suppose a city street or something similar would suffice as background," she reasons. "Otherwise, who cares?"

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor laughs for a moment, "Y'majesty, I think point.. you wouldn't be the first -full grown- woman or man I made cry."

He tilts his head to the side and then calls out to the A.I., "Madripoor Slums... Put a few extra cars on the streets."

The powerful computer that backs the holographic projectors of the training room process the request. An artificial night falls upon the room, large dirty edifices rise around them. Signs in various southeast Asian languages announce the presence of food or other wares.

"Y'should always care about your battlefield, Polaris. Sounds like you are lettin' all the magnetic might go y'head." The computer spawns a few more cars on the street in various states of disrepair. Victor waits for the A.I. to add one of the common yet ambient noises of Madripoor to pop off... gun shots.

He then uses the potential distraction to run down an alley. His battleplan, avoid line of sight and use his superior senses to keep track of the mutant. Stealth would close the distance and a good scare would end the fight.

Lorna Dane has posed:
"The battlefield isn't always one that you get to choose in the first place, Sabertooth. Thus my flexiblity on the matter," Lorna retorts even as the scenery shifts to the criminal city of Madripoor. This wasn't a place she was familiar with in any sense of the word. It was a city though, and cities she did know a bit. Even as he uses the distraction to disapear down an alley she too moves, rising into the air over the cars that were passing by.

It makes her an easy to spot target, she realizes, which is why she too moves off between a pair of buildings with a quick side-ways movement to get her out of sight quickly. From there it's up to the top of the rooftops where she pauses long enough to check for any artificial wind to find the direction it was going. She knew of his senses--making sure she was downwind would be advisable if she could manage it.

Victor Creed has posed:
There is often a fixation on Victor's sense of smell. He does rely on it quite often, because its an amazing tool. However, he has other tools. His sense of hearing is also phenomenal, when Polaris's scent comes up short. He listens for the sounds of hair and fabric being dusted in the night air. It's not perfect, there were plenty of other components of the soundscape, yet there's something unique about someone who is flying.

He rends his claws into imaginary brick and ascends a building, cresting the edge just barely to peek. Next, his cunning mind concludes that an absence of scent implies she is upwind. He descends back into the alley and keeps below the roof line, leaping between fire escapes, window ceils, and other edges to power his locomotion.

He maneuvers in a wide arc, assuming Polaris is cautious where he is willing to move swiftly. There may be a few moments where he's visible crossing streets, but he'll continue in the wide arc until the wind does pick up her scent.

Lorna Dane has posed:
Cautious but perhaps not so meek to act. When he does show himself as he runs between the streets she acts. Those cars that had been zooming around are suddenly seized by her magnetic grip to be bodily thrown toward Saberooth with no regard or care for damage of the public areas. Or of the individual inside the car. Perhaps the only sign that she may be attempting to keep other casualties down is the absence of the driverside door. It rips off and the car twists as if to dump the passengers out in the process before it slams into it's intended target.

Too slow, perhaps, but the crumbling fake bricks and screech of metal behind him make it clear she's hot on his tail one way or another.

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor offers a satisfied grin as he hears the artificial screams and the screeches of metal that accompany them. Plenty of warning there, he leaps out of the way before he's crushed by the tossed vehicle. He used the resulting debris cloud to his advantage, ducking deeper into a nearby alley while reaching down to grab a pair of bricks.

A few moments later, the window of a storefront shatters as two bricks fly in the direction of the flying Lorna's, the silhouette of Victor disappears further into the building. He takes a quick second to shed his boots then slams open a door to pad back into yet another alley. He ascends another building but avoids line of sight with Polaris waiting to see if she how closely she follows his trail or if she takes to the sky again in caution.

Lorna Dane has posed:
The air. It was there as always and a ready enough escape. Even Sabertooth had a limit to how high he could jump although it was an impressive height. By now though she knew he was in the building she stood upon which meant it was only a matter of time. Either he would come up the side, go to a nearby building, or perhaps even come up through the rooftop itself.

It takes a moment to flex her senses to 'feel' out where those metal objects were that would react to her magnetism. Nails in the building. Steel girders, and door handles. Locks. Which swing open as he leaves through the back. Ah.

Staying on the rooftop for the time being she flings her arm out in the direction of the door that had just opened. Screws pry from the hinges of the door to slam out into the wall opposite hoping to catch him in the process before he can run too far. It's then that she steps to the edge of the roof to float over to the top of a lamp post. It would give her a little more room at least while she turns using as many of her senses as she could to try and relocate him.

Victor Creed has posed:
Lorna is loud with her powers, every creak of metal is a warning to the seasoned fighter that he should adjust his position. It's also fair warning that she's at least partly on to his location. He avoids the hostile door then... begins his ascent then... decides to drop down and double back.

Along the way, he grabs an empty bottle off the ground and chucks it down the alley, clanging it off the side of a metal dumpster. Once more, his silhouette disappears into the building.

A few ticks later, a window shatters from a upper floor with an angle on the lamp post. Sabertooth in all his glory attempts a flying tackle of the other mutant.

Lorna Dane has posed:
Loud. That would have to be taken into consideration if it's mentioned to her in the future. Surely the car was loud. The screws she would have thought were quick enough to not give much warning--but then his senses were heightened in many ways including his reaction times.

When the glass breaks she whirls around in the air toward him with one arm brought up in a defensive posture. A bracelet worn on that wrist morphs then out of it's simple chain design into a small array of shrapnel that flies out toward him.

While she had asked he not attempt to kill her, she knew he had a healing factor. And the call for the healer on her part meant she was expecting him not to hold back TOO much. But even so, that small bit of defensive shrapnel wasn't enough to stop his full body weight and momentum from slamming into her. All she can attempt to do is twist in air as they plummet to the ground trying to put him beneath her so that he would take the brunt of the fall.

Victor Creed has posed:
As expected, Creed just ignores the shrapnel. Lacerations form on his flesh, a few pieces of metal fly through his body. A couple even embed inside his flesh, those would be bothersome if misused.

The bodies collide and down they go towards the concrete. He resists her twisting and for a moment his instincts are to grasp her head and ensure he crushes her skull upon the street below, yet a different kind of self-preservation takes hold. He allows the turn and shields her from the brunt of the impact, putting the two into a roll on the street, his arms wrapped around her.

To end their rotation, he extends a leg out, the roll abruptly stopping with him on top of her. Wrestling skills refined by decades of brawling trigger, he pins her and his jaw snaps in the air near her throat, fang clacking sharply.

Lorna Dane has posed:
That hurt. Lorna's eyes are squeezed shut from the ringing in her head as the air was pushed from her on impact. Yet still some part of training and a sense of survival instinct earn her shoulders scrunching up to shorten if not completely hide her throat. Just in time for that snapping of teeth so near she could feel his breath on her face.

Those fangs were more than just for show and she knows it rather well. That snap of jaws causes her heart rate to spike erratically. Both hands lift to press against his chest trying to lock her elbows to keep him away. Even as she does this she shifts her leg to try and...

Well, try and knee him.

If it weren't for the height difference she would be right there, but her knee ends up more around his bellybutton which just slides her ankle awkwardly up the inside of his thigh from the attempt.

"Dammit!"

Victor Creed has posed:
He snaps his jaw once more and then a low chuckle rolls through his chest. He looks down between them and then raises an eyebrow at her.

"You gotta work on that response. Cause darlin' I've been kneed in the nuts by people a hella stronger then you. Maybe you should consider metal knee pads." He grabs her by the throat, offers a light squeeze, and lets his weight crush down on her for a moment. He leans in to whisper into her ear, "Dead. A few different ways. Coulda clawed you instead of tackled ya. Coulda crushed you on the way down. Coulda bit your throat out."

He releases her throat and puts his palms to the street, taking his weight off her. "You are a pain in the ass with y'have warnin'. You probably should just stick t'goin' to the high ground. Appreciate y'keepin' things interesting, but if you got to fight a bastard like me. You are better off a hundred yards in the air, pullin' the city down around me."

Lorna Dane has posed:
That went about as well as trying to bathe a rattlesnake. Or whatever cute Southern cliche Rogue would have come up with in this case. Lorna's cheeks darken from sheer embarassment at that rather pathetic attempt to knee him going completely wrong. She couldn't really do much there anyway being pinned as she was. Maybe she should have reached for the manhole cover nearby to slam overtop him... Before she can even contemplate how else she should have handled this though, he grasps her throat pinning her again.

A quick suck of breath catches in her throat while he lists off the ways he could have killed her. The expression she wears flits between a range of emotions even as she feels her stomach flip with a shiver that comes from her throat being grabbed. A small noise of protest comes from her just a moment before he releases her.

"-DON'T," she lets out in a rough breath as she sucks in a quick fresh gulp of air. Reaching up to her throat she shivers a single time and mutters, "Don't touch my throat. We're fighting, not flirting." That little comment is met with a clearing of her throat before she responds more levelly, "You're right though, you won. This is why I need to practice more."

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor inhales deeply as he practices a little mindfulness to clam the edge of the hunt. He feels the asphalt under his toes. He hears the ambient noise of the city. He tastes a little grit in his mouth, and he smells the many facets of his opponent from a hint of emotions to body products to the last couple of meals.

He crouches above her, feet planted on either side of her torso, knees bend, arms resting on the tops of his thighs. "You wanna make rules like that, you announce 'em before the spar. Besides, fightin' or flirtin', the throats a good target."

The lacerations on his body begin to knit back together, a few of them drop bloody bits of shrapnel onto Lorna. "You did draw first blood. That's somethin'. Look more practice, y'might be able to take a head off with that bracelet instead of buck shottin'."

He considers, "Not sure if its practice y'need as much as you need more up close and personal back up plans."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna Dane purses her lips tight together while taking a few deep breaths herself. Then she levers herself up on her elbows so she's not just laying out on the ground while he crouches above her. "To be fair, I wasn't expecting that kind of reaction." She mutters with a sideways glance to regard the small bit of destruction she had made of the fake cars. At least her powers had still worked on them even if they were holograms. Solid state holograms. "It's ticklish."

That's all she offers up though as her attention shifts back to him seriously contemplating what he said with a simple nod. "That's true. My crown offers more protection when I wear it, but I rarely do. Larger peices," she explains while reaching up to grasp hold of one bit of shrapel coming out of his skin to help tug it out with a little bit of magnetic zip. "Would you like the rest out as well or would you prefer to wait it out?"

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor slings a leg off of her and then sits on the ground with a thump. He offers a full throated chuckle as she announces it was 'ticklish'. "Shit... Only person who ever said I tickled them was Logan, and he was just bein' a smart ass."

Creed lets out a slight grunt when the metal is zipped out of his skin.

He looks down at his bloody and tattered tank top frowning slightly. Grabbing the fabric with a clawed hand, he rips what remains of the garment and tosses off to the side. "Yea, just tug 'em out. I've had worse, but doesn't mean I like the feelin' of mettle wigglin' its way out."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna Dane sits up further with her legs shifting on the ground now that he was to the side of her and not hovering over her. A faintly amused grin comes as his own laugh if only because it was rather rare to hear. At least not while he wasn't murdering someone. That was usually more snarling laughter though.

"No I can't imagine that feels good. I'll be quick about it. Won't feel more than a little prick." Was that a joke? It's hard to tell how deadpan she says it, or maybe she was just quoting the nurses that often tended to her.

While she could simply reach out and yank them she instead moves her hand over his chest. Not touching, just hovering hairs breadth away to 'catch' the shrapnel in her palm as she runs her grasp over and around. Her eyes roam over his chest as she does seeking out any places she may have possibly missed.

And not at all admiring anything.

"Do you always wear such easily removable clothes?" It's an attempt at a joke as she pulls the last bit of metal from him leaving a bloodied bit of shrapnel in her palm. At least she doesn't seem squeamish about blood or having a palmful of his along with the metal. "All better. Should I get you a bandaid or kiss it better?"

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor snorts and waits for her to work. The muscles that adorn his torso tense slightly at the slight jolts of pain as shrapnel is extracted via Polaris's magnetic means.

He raises an eyebrow at her joke. "Clothin' tends to be a little be easier to remove when its got a dozen holes in it. I do tend to keep it cheap unless I'm goin out on the town. None of it ever lasts."

Glancing down to her, the exit wounds of the shrapnel knit back together, the skin goes smooth, only little dribbles of blood really marking that a puncture had ever existed. "Offerin' to kiss it better, huh? Maybe y'need to think on your judgement."

He curls a clawed hand under her chin and looks her in the eye. "Jokin' aside, think there'd be a long list of folks lookin' to mount me on a wall if I took an option like that. Same time, careful what y'offer. I'm not known for bein' wise when I decide I want somethin'."

Standing, he draws a hand over his chest, wiping blood away. He grins, "Not that I need to get in the way of someone else's bad decisions."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna Dane sucks in a quick breath with her head when he catches at her chin meeting his gaze in turn. If it weren't for already being red faced from the exertion of the, albeit quick, fight she might have embarassed herself more at this point by blushing. Instead she lightly clears her throat. "That was a joke, yes," she assures while shifting to get to her own feet now that he had.

"I've probably made enough bad decisions for the day as it is." A small wince comes from her at the feel of her back aching from the impact. It wasn't much but she was likely going to see that healer regardless just to recover her pride a bit by not being sore every step she took. "... I apologize for ..." For what? She looks away again frowning at herself. What was she thinking lately. "Thank you for the spar, I will take your advice into consideration."

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor eyes her and scoffs, shaking his head.

"Polaris. Don't apologize for doin' what you want. Just be willin' to deal with the consequences. I tend ignore 'em, but I do deal with 'em when they rise." He smirks a little.

When she looks away, he leans forward and snaps his jaw at the air near her ear. "Let me know when you want to wrestle again. No need to by shy about it."

He looks her up and down then starts heading for the showers near the training room, since he's already gotten yelled at before for trailing blood through the rock. "And don't be so fuckin' formal soundin' unless that what you want. Kinda wasted on me."