The cards hurt like hell, but this wasn't Creed's first rodeo. He'd fought the little kinetic motherfucker before, and had earned his fare share of blows. Still, it stung.
With a hand clutched to his exposed ribs, blood sloshing from his face down to the ground, he ran through the cloud of violet smoke and towards Logan, throwing an arm out and catching him around the neck. He slammed the smaller man against the wall, bringing up a knee to catch him in the stomach, pulling back before he found himself in the way of a flashing silver claw. The amount of times he'd had those claws sunk in his flesh, it was the healing factor only that saved him from looking like a damn patchwork quilt.