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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*She falls back before that kick, catching herself on her shoulders and planting her feet in the small of his back to loft him up past her. Happy landings, devil of dares!*

More room to work with out here, too.

Or happy falling. It's a little of both. Matt nearly crunches his shoulder but recovers with a break dance looking move. Don't ask him what it's called. That part wasn't part of the training Stick started.

"A lot more. And if we break something--" Let's just let that thought drop. Feeling confident still he goes at Samus again. Opting more for this style because the goal is not to beat her into submission.

To be fair, things in the gym seemed fairly sturdy.

*It almost is a dance, their play of strike and block, lunge and evade. With his keen hearing, he might catch the rhythmic not-quite-vocalization of Samus counting time--but whether she's counting up, or counting down, is harder to say.*

"Punching bags aside right?"

Counting? It must be counting. The movement of her lips with the breathing are a giveaway that there's some kind of something. If it is counting than maybe he can go faster. Speed has been a factor in his mode of attack, but not speed for the sake of speed. Why not? Catching up to her time at what Matt will treat as one he goes double. Stroke to block reduced by a fraction of seconds.

Well, they've probably had a lot of people wearing that bag out for a long time.

*Her tone is wry; she knows just how empty that speculation is. She does make a quiet sound of surprise as Matt speeds up, going on the defensive for a few beats.*

You're speeding up. Any reason?

"Only one of you though."

Is that irritation? Is that a real reaction even? Matt tries to subdue a grin as he keeps his pace before trying faster again.

"No. No reason. Want me to stop?"

One of me is generally enough.

*She seems able to keep up with his faster pace, and her counting remains steady, even as the blocks and counters quicken to match him.*

Go at your own pace, whatever you like.

*She knows that most humans don't have the stamina to keep fighting full-throttle for more than two minutes; she's timing Matt to see how he paces himself, and how long he can last.*

"I rest my case."

Now she's making it sound like it's a race. So really the answer is no, Matt's not sure what she's doing. The speed is already manageable before he kicked it up.

"Not your usual?"

Maybe it's faster. He huffs out a breath and tries a little more. Now it's starting to be a strain. After all, he is only human.

Well argued, councilor.

*Well, if Matt wants to get to "tired" first, she certainly won't stop him. Seeing how he reads the behavior of the people he's fighting just tells her that much more about him.*

My usual doesn't matter. This is about you, remember?

*Samus notes the signs of strain, and wonders how far Matt will push himself before he has to admit he's getting tired.*

He has a breathless laugh. Good call indeed. Two minutes and he is starting to slow. His limbs are heavy but Samus again reminds him he's leading the dance. Matt comes back to his own breath again to ground and listen. Weary, but still got plenty of fight. He has gone out with less in him and ended out the night.

"Hope I'm at least giving you some kinda stretch." Words are panting and he still comes at her again. More air kicks and balances.

*She chuckles.*

You are. It's good for me to fight someone mobile now and again, keeps things in perspective.

*Now, when he's tired, she'll start to really put pressure on him--she's been banking her stamina for this (and had a deeper well to draw on, to begin with), and wants to see how he does when he's running short. If anyone wants to see a good wuxia film but can't afford the rental, their sparring match is going to turn into a very good substitute.*

"Good," he huffs the word and nods his hair is getting a spiked, sweaty texture. The compliment doesn't mean that they're over. Samus is a wonder herself. Jeez. Matt finds himself impressed with her staying power. Maybe if this was a real bout she would have had him at the ropes and would have two times over. It would have to be very specific circumstances. Except he's Battlin' Jack Murdock's son, fire burning the hottest at it's lowest point and somehow always being a comeback kid. Yes, this means he's still coming at her.

*There's something admirable about that drive of his, growing more tenacious the closer to the edge he comes. A part of her is tempted to see just how far she can push him before he drops--but that would be cruel, and cruelty isn't her goal here. That's assuming she could keep up her end of the fight until he got that tired, and given his stubborn streak, she's not prepared to back that wager for the sake of idle curiosity. And he managed to get her heartrate up, that's worth something.*

I appreciate the look at your methods. Call it a draw?

Admirable and foolish. So very signature in so many ways. Matt pauses right at her question and straightens. He rolls his shoulders and rotates his neck.

"A draw's good."

And so very kind. Samus could have had him at least a half a dozen times. "...Thanks." For her assessment, whatever it means, and the chance.

*She straightens as well, spreading her arms a little to stretch the muscles in her back and shoulders against one another.*

Verity and I go running almost every day. Open invitation. Join us sometime.

*Of course, their exercises encompass more than running, but she'll let Matt find out about that around the first ambush, if Verity doesn't tell him first.*

"I like running." Matt doesn't suspect a thing. "Where do you go around here for that?"

He steps back to his gym bag to feel for a small towel to soak up the sweat that's shining on his neck and face.

"I have an extra water if you need it."

I'd appreciate it, thank you. Usually, we meet up at a stretch of beach not far from the forum for the sand leg, then PINpoint out for the high-altitude leg. Have you found the beach yet?

*Reaching a hand back, she unbinds her hair, fluffing it out to help it dry. Somehow, when her hand returns to her side, it's holding some kind of futuristic scrunchie and a short cylinder that might be a collapsible baton. Was she hiding a weapon in her hair?*

"Any particular days?"

Ah. There are the water bottles. Matt holds one out to her. Staying still and at this low angle he is free to observe the way her hair smells fluffed and free to the air. And as to the new object in her hand, how it sounds and the weight of it. That's veeery familiar.

His head tilts to the side even more in surprise and confusion.

Every day but Wednesday.

*She definitely doesn't smell human. There are human notes in her scent, but there's also things that have never been to or belonged on Earth. Also, notes of bird. She takes the water bottle, checking it over out of habit for signs of tampering or LOL capacity. His confusion doesn't go unnoticed, however.*

Something wrong?

"So I hope to catch up with you tomorrow."

Human and unhuman aren't scents he is used to figuring out. She smells very different. A woman, yes, and whatever products she chooses for herself too. That something else is going to bother Matt until he finds out. Good thing he doesn't catch her scrutinizing his choice of Aquafina.

"Did you just take a baton out of your hair?"

Tomorrow, then. Be ready.

*Her lips quirk up in amusement. She opens the bottle, then snaps her wrist out, extending the baton in a quick triple-click. There's a faint smell of ozone to it, like lightning about to strike.*

I did. I don't suppose we could call that privileged information?

*He can answer while she has a sip.*

"Water, a good breakfast, multipurpose clothes and sensible shoes?" That's ready for a Murdock. Is it ready for a Samus?

Matt leans back. Three clicks and it's a full on deadly weapon more so than before. His brow furrows and he puts on his shades again.

"That's if I know the information at all. Who? Me?" What's one secret for another? He drinks deeply from his own bottle.

Sounds good.

*Readiness for a Samus means adapting to abrupt and demanding situations--but he'll figure that out soon enough. She collapses the baton against her hip, the ozone smell fading.*

Thank you, counsel. If I ever need a lawyer on Earth, I know who to call.

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