Literally Pirateninja (shadowcat) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-18 15:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, kitty pryde (shadowcat) |
"That the best you got, ugly? I'm a third your weight and I'm a girl."
Who: Kitty, assorted guys. Also mentions of Dream!Piotr, Dream!Ilyana, Dream!Kurt, Dream!Rachel, Dream!Wisdom, Dream!Xi'an and a brief, barest mention of Dream!Doug
What: TLDR: Kitty dreams about all her loves and all the feels and then goes and finds a street fight.
When: Monday Morning
Where: Some place
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Blood, asskickings, and so many feels.
There have been several people who've meant more to Kitty than any others. Tonight she dreamed of them. She dreamed of Colossus, the first man she loved. From how they met, to how he broke her heart, to him and Pete Wisdom nearly killing each other. To his noble sacrifice and his resurrection.
She dreamed of Kurt Wagner, their time in Excalibur and the sibling bond that had formed between them. There were many pieces missing, pieces she'd claw for upon waking but would be unable to grasp.
She dreamed of Rachel. The wielder of the Phoenix Force after Jean, and one of her best friends. Of finding her and losing her and finding her again. Of emotions that had been buried and dug out again, of regrets, and things that will never happen.
There was Ilyana. The little girl she'd adored and then the teenager she'd also adored. The struggles with Ilyana, and Ilyana's darker side. And then her sacrifice, returning to being a child again. That feeling of love again, that she hadn't understood until much later. And then Ilyana's death, and the heartache and grieving. She lost both the Rasputins.
Xi'an, who'd come along at a time when she was emotionally drained, bitter and angry, and helped her want to feel again. Who she'd pushed away, because she recognized those feelings this time, and had been scared.
It had been fear that had cost her Pete Wisdom, too. Fear of an adult, mature relationship, different from her love of Colossus. They were on equal footing, and it was intense and passionate. But she feared growing up too fast, though it was too late. She pushed him away, and he had left before she could.
And Michael, she dreamed of Michael, of those precious moments before he was taken from her. He never existed but in her heart, he always would.
These weren't the only ones. There were friends and teammates. Logan and more faces than she could count. People she'd lost. One boy's name was on the tip of her tongue when she woke, but she couldn't recall his name. Just the ghost of a face and blonde hair.
There were fresh tears on her face.
Overwhelmed by emotions, Kitty dressed in old jeans. She had to work this out, and she knew how she wanted to do it. They were ripped in several places, but that would lend her an air of toughness. Or white trash. Either way, it would help. She pulled on a black sports bra and a black shirt over that
Finally, she pulled her hair into a pony tail, fashioned a mask out of an old costume, and hopped on her bike. She drove to the section of town where Obi-wan had had his fight, and cruised around, looking for any sign that there might be another gathering. Maybe not a 'tournament' like the last thing, but people practicing, or fighting. Anything really, to deal with the ache in her heart and the anger boiling under her skin.
She found one after nearly an hour of searching, and pulled the mask on. There were catcalls and worse. Laughter. She broke the fingers of the first man that tried to grope her, but they still didn't take her seriously. She cajoled, and insulted, until someone finally accepted her challenge.
The floor was made of cement, and the ring was marked by rebar. The first blow Kitty took staggered her, pain pulsing from her ribs and leaving her gasping for breath. She dodged the next swing, snapping her foot into his solar plexus. That gave her some distance from him. He was fast, and strong. And he was playing with her.
Fair enough. She fell into a more mobile stance, bouncing on the balls of her feet so as not letting him know which she would lead with.
"That the best you got, ugly? I'm a third your weight and I'm a girl." She added, in an almost purring voice, "Give me a workout, baby, you know want to."
Kitty understood that a large part of her fighting style relied on being able to pass through solid matter. But that simply wasn't reliable. Distraction, speed and accuracy would be key.
He swung for her again, and she moved to deflect the punch. The impact jarred her and she didn't see the other fist until it had already collided with her temple. Her head snapped back, but instead of falling, she turned it into a backwards roll, jumping back to her feet and charging at him. Ducking around and behind, she jabbed his kidneys, then dodged around as he tried to turn to face her again.
Foot met his face, followed by an open palmed punch, and then an elbow. He swiped at her, and she flipped back as her vision exploded into stars. Something warm and wet dribbled down her nose and over her mouth. She flicked her tongue out and tasted blood.
When he charged at her again, she punched him in the throat. She couldn't let him hit her again, she wasn't sure she'd be standing after that. The thought of being out cold around all these men was unnerving, but she ignored it.
The man's fist swung out. She grabbed it, yanking him along and flipping him into his back. Ramming her knees into his chest, she grabbed his hair, and violently slammed his head against the floor. Twice.
Standing, sucking in huge lungfulls of air as the adrenaline pumped through her, Kitty wasn't sure she felt all that much better. The anger over the dream about Michael had cooled, but what remained was a hard knot of tension, frustration and a resigned sadness. The emotions about the people she'd loved in her other life remained strong and conflicted. It had been like being slapped, especially where Rasputin had been concerned. If she ever saw the man in this world again, she wasn't sure if she'd hit him or kiss him.
She made sure the man was still breathing, before she walked out of the makeshift ring, people parting in front of her. Ripping her shirt off, she wiped the blood from her face. There were nasty bruises on her stomach, ribs and sides.
She was going to need more shirts at this rate, but she really needed to do that again.