fightlikehell | (no subject)

Entry tags:

nexus,
samus aran

(no subject)

Since he's going to be in Nexus for awhile, Matt Murdock is working on finding the essentials. A church, a gym and recreational pursuits he never quite was able to get around to without impeding into his late night jaunts incognito. A gym is in order. And all he really asks for is that there be boxing bags and some quiet. Taking in the newest space he pauses and catches the tells of someone familiar. His recollection is not always so keen for someone he's only met once but this particular person...

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*Hell's Kitchen is a place where you stay alive by keeping your head down and staying out of whatever's blowing up. Samus Aran's life is a place where you stay alive by seeing everything coming and dealing with it at range whenever possible. It selects for different traits.*

A calling of your own.

Maybe things would not have gone down the same way they had, as hard and fast if Samus was close or people like her. Either way, her skills have helped her world. Matt has to make up for last time. Or so he believes. A solo mission.

"Yes. That's What I would call it." And this is a pretty close admission to anything in public. Matt should feel tense, anxious. He feels... a strange sense of confidence and peace.

*She nods thoughtfully for a moment.*

Well. Let's see what you've got. You want to do this in the ring, or find a quiet corner?

He should not be surprised. Matt swallows and turns a little. "Not here, please. Somewhere else quiet." Somewhere he can cut the act with no witnesses. When you keep a secret so long knowing the threat it is hard to just throw that all away.

*She's taking in his reaction with hooded eyes.*

Lead on, then.

If at least one thing can be said, he can't catch facial expressions that small! Hah. "Outside?" In case she has a preference. Matt is a gentleman.

Alright.

*She takes a moment to gather her things, tucking them into a gym bag, before heading outside. She moves with the languid grace of a big cat, power at ease. She's watching Matt out of the corner of her eye, though, reading his body language and letting him choose their path.*

He stand still, waiting. All of his belongings are already packed up. His own bag is slung over his back. It's not large. Just gloves, boxing tape, towels, water and a few things for the showers. When she finishes he leads on. The gym is in a residential area. Peaceful and not exactly the place to duke it out... but there is a park covered with threes. Matt heads that way.

"Please tell me if you have any objections for location."

Mm, I'd prefer it weren't ridiculously cold or otherwise immediately hazardous to our health, but I suspect I'm better-protected on that front than you, so whatever you pick should be fine.

There is still a chill in the air. Matt's hastiness is showing. And maybe some nerves. He smiles at her assessment. "Well, the point of it is to see what I can do. I don't think it would take too long..." Samus has been nothing but patient and kind to him. He doesn't see any kind of mechanization to do him harm.

*Oh, Matt. Matt, Matt, Matt. Ask Verity how many bruises Samus can gift to someone in the course of helping them.*

Still selling yourself short. You sometimes react to obstacles before your cane encounters them; your breathing deepens when you're under stress, which speaks of training; and what I can see of your stride, stance, and build under that suit tell me you're quite the acrobat for an unaugmented human. It's a good bluff, most people are probably fooled.

This is absolutely a question he should have asked before this moment. He exhales and it would be the beginning of a laugh if he didn't feel so swiftly, efficiently gutted. Matt drops his cane and takes off his backpack.

"I'm used to most people, Samus."

*Swift and efficient are two of her specialties. She sets aside her bag, turning to face him. Her pulse barely changes, but subtle changes in muscle tension shift her from "casual walking" to "combat ready" with barely a visible change. Matt might be one of the few people equipped to observe it in action.*

Most people aren't in the Nexus. Either relax, because the odds are slim of anyone here ever getting back to your Facet, or sharpen up your game because people will notice the slips. Whenever you're ready.

*What is she talking about? Her hands aren't up in any kind of a guarding position. Maybe she's taunting him, with that.*

Hearing her prepare is a lot like straining your ears for a dog whistle. It is happening. And she's so very subtle. Like Stick. Like Nobu. Both left him very aware of his short comings. Oh. And one thing he forgot. Glasses. He plops them down on his bag. Fists come up just short of his shoulders and like any fighter of experience he's leading with one foot and the other behind to minimize hit surface area. This might be a scrapping but his fists are relatively passive.

"Ready."

Well?

*With a word, she lays claim to the advantage of the second mover, goading him to act first. She's standing straight-on at the moment, presenting the widest, most inviting target she can. Her hands float down by her hips, open palms turning toward him in prodding expectation.*

Surely this is only the start of her testing. Matt evens out his breathing and gives no count or verbal notification that they're going now. He springs her way and tries to aim a punch, a soft one, to her side with his right hand while the left overs to guard either his face or wherever.

*Oh, yes. His attack prompts a quiet, thoughtful sound from the Hunter. She barely seems to move, leaning just enough for the blow to graze against her side, passing between her arm and body--before that arm cinches in against her to trap him. Fingers curled and hand tilted back to strike with the heel of her palm, her right hand trying to rise inside his guard in a shot at his jaw.*

A trap? This won't do. And because they're not trying to do harm to one another this is where he would start to use his knees to attack, one to the side that cinches on him, the other to try and throw her off balance. Matt chooses to take the hit to the jaw because the full mobility is more important.

*Though her hand rises fast, it delivers only a stern tap--speed and power under exquisite control.*

You're holding back. Hoping to impress me with restraint?

"I'm holding back because--" that's how he'd prefer to do this. Stick wouldn't hesitate for a second to strike Matt no matter what age or skill level. Better me than someone else, kid. And this exchange is hitting strange places in his morality. Buck up, Murdock. She wants you to try, so try. He stalls trying to yank himself loose. Fat chance it does anything, she's solid. "...is that really how you want to do this?"

I asked you to show me what you've got. I imagine if I ask you to stop, you will.

*That said, she kicks out with a foot, sweeping at ankle height as she twists, pulling on his trapped arm to try to drag him off balance.*

Woah. No. He's not going down like that. Two seconds to decide and Matt opts to grab Samus if she won't let him go and use her body to keep the both of them standing. When the full sweep is near complete he tries again with his knees now using her clutch on him to try to bend her at the torso into his blows. And wouldn't you know, her goading has got more solid hits out of him. Still controlled. Sorry, Samus.

*The blows with Matt's knees get a small sound out of Samus, and she releases his trapped arm--whether because he won free or because she's letting him fall is anyone's guess.*

Better.

He falls and is able to use the now free arms to push off the ground to be upright again. No celebration for it, Matt throws himself her way again. Faster now, trying to engage her blow for blow the way a boxer would. Her steady heartbeat and breathing at least tell him where and how she stands. There's no giveaway for what's next.

*She leans to avoid some of his punches, blocks others, but for most she counter-punches at the inside of his elbows, breaking the momentum of his swing.*

Is that your temper showing? Don't tell me that's all it takes to goad you.

*Those words are, of course, another goad. And she still hasn't moved her feet, except to sweep his the once--is she taunting him with her steady stance?*