Who: Logan and Marie What: Having a deep philosophical conversation... what it could happen! When: Evening Where: Super secret Fight Club type location Rating: TBD
Hadn't taken him long to find a place to live. Well, he wouldn't really go as far as to call it that, but what could you call a rundown, ramshackle apartment down on the docks? The view.. it wasn't so bad really. The smell, well if you liked the scent of dead fish from the market around the corner you'd be in heaven. Nobody asked questions, got into his business or for that mattered gave a rats ass about him or what he did. That was how he liked it.
A job? Well, he wouldn't actually call an underground fighting circuit a job. But he made a helluva lot more money than most people did at a nine to five. He may of moved out of the mansion, but he wasn't getting very far away, just in case Magneto took notion to be his usual prick-like self. Which, it was only a matter of time.
The location of the fights changed, tonight it was some condemned warehouse on a side of town the cops didn't even bother with unless they were of the crooked variety. There were blood stains on the floor, fresh as well as old. Logan paid no heed to them. The people that participated in this had no life to worry about, they were doing it to make ends meet. Job market wasn't exactly stellar out there. Some of them did it because fighting was the only thing they knew.
Logan? He did it because he was bored and enjoyed it. Three fights had taken place already that night, he didn't really watch any of them. But it was his turn, he set his beer down, took off his shirt and headed to the center of the ring. By ring he meant the circle in the middle of the crowd. Standing there he watched his opponent come forth. Big fucker, standing at least 6'6, bald, black eyes, countless scars on his body. What wasn't scarred was covered in ink. This guy was going to be legitimate competition.
He came at Logan fast and hard, catching him with a fist to the gut as well as one in his back, right at his kidneys. With a loud roar Logan charged, banging his fists against the mans sides. They continued to fight, Logan had a gash at his eyebrow and a busted lip after ten minutes. He'd also had enough. The other guy was worse for wear too, and his wounds wouldn't heal up, half of them already had but nobody was noticing, hell they didn't care as long as they saw blood.
And just as he was about to deliver a helluva blow when a scent hit him. Through the smoke, spilled booze, sweat and blood it still couldn't be masked. Magnolias and honey. There was only one person who smelled like that and she was there. For a moment his mind drifted back years ago to a similar establishment in Laughlin City. And that distraction was all it took for the guy to deliver a uppercut that sent Logan flying across the floor, but broke the mans fingers. That happened though when you put everything you had in a punch to a adamantium laced skull.
To say his bell was rung would be an understatement. But Logan slowly got up, cracking his neck. He was finished playing with this guy, the look on his face was a clear sign.