| Beastly Throwdown | |||||
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| What: Logan and Jean set out to hunt down Hank near where the school and X-Men members had camped. They find him. It goes poorly, but they capture him. | |||||
While the Phoenix is away, the mutants will play. Or one particular mutant anyway. One that you'd think would know better. Hank McCoy/The Beast has been missing since the first night of the camping trip. And other than a few large footprints, some claw marks in trees and tree limbs, and some tasty remains of local animals... there's been no real sightings. Except of course for Iceman and Cannonball, who did find the monster that trashed the campsite and was believed to have taken off with Hank. Of course, their worst fears were realized when it was discovered that the Beast and The Beast were one in the same. Which also led to more answers about just what happened, as well as more questions.
Jean has been away at a teacher's conference overseas. When she received the message about Hank, however, she flew back home and immediately investigated the man's research back in the X-Labs. Finding out he'd been messing with injecting her own DNA into himself she was horrified (and maybe a little ego-stroked, or at least the Phoenix is). She knew she needed to find him and try to bring him back to stability.
But how does one hunt a Beast? Why, with another beast of course. So Jean contacted Logan and headed out to where the campers had been to try and pick up his trail. She's wearing camping gear to blend in, her hair in a braid down her back, jeans and boots and a flannel shirt with a backpack full of restraints for the wayward Hank. "Can you pick up his scent?" she asks Wolverine.
Logan, meanwhile, was busy getting blown up by Russians in Madripoor; in fact, he was straining with a tweezer and mirrors to pick stubborn bits of shrapnel from his back when he got the news about Hank.
"Yeah," he mutters, grimacing and scratching vigorously between his shoulder blades. Begrudgingly, he agreed to make his best effort at blending in too, which means sandals, khaki shorts, and a blue and white checkered shirt unbuttoned to let the white tee beneath show. He is also wearing a fishing hat, complete with a number of colourful lures stitched into its band. "Not a--" His nose twitches, his grimace deepens, and then he stops scratching and starts to hunch down.
"Come on," he lowly instructs before putting his head down and breathing in deeply; after holding it in a moment, he quickly straightens up and begins moving briskly through the trees, towards the strange, familiar scent of his friend and teammate.
While to Logan's nose Hank's likely always had something of a slight feralish scent, it's now a very dominant aspect of his scent. It's prevelant in the woods, letting other predators and prey know that this area has been claimed by 'The Beast'. While it took Cannonball and Iceman a while to locate Hank, it's certainly going to be much easier for a natural tracker like Logan. Along the scent trail there's a few large foot prints, some tufts of blue fur and hair, and some remains of a recent meal. It's clear from the scent and where it trails off from the main path that the creature is sticking to the trees for the most part.
Jean watches his scratching and she can't help it, she just turns off the itch for him, stopping the impulse between those irritated nerves and his brain. "I'll get the rest of the shrapnel out for you later if you promise to tell me the story of how it got there in the first place," she notes quietly.
She isn't as swift traveling through the woods as Logan is, but Jean keeps track of him by the sense of his mind and follows as rapidly as she can. She sweeps lightly, looking for any remnants of Hank McCoy's mind. As she travels she uses tweezers and ziplock baggies to collect some of the fur evidence, and photographs the prints with her phone camera.
Once it's apparent that Hank is staying out of the open, the claws come out to help blaze a trail through the woods for he and Jean. With the Beast's distinct odor filling his nostrils and setting his nerves on edge, it's something of a relief; the hairs on his arms, legs and neck are even standing up. When he finds the dead animal - he /hopes/ it's an animal - he pauses to give Jean a chance to catch up, and once she does, he murmurs -- growls, really, "He ain't too far," and tilts his chin towards the remains. He then crouches down and stalks towards the trees, adding, "Let's hope he's docile. For his sake."
"I don't know what he'll be like. It's like he's increased his mutation by injecting himself with my DNA. My DNA since I came /back/, Logan." Jean lets the worry level of that sink in for a moment as she looks down at the remains of the animal. "He might just need to burn himself out energy-wise so the human side of his mind can regain control. I have a feeling this animal side of him has been suppressed for so long it's sort of Hulking Out." She grimaces and sets a hand on Logan's forearm for a moment so she can steady herself to try and sweep a larger area with the Phoenix's vast telepathic scanning ability.
The attack on Iceman suggests he's not too docile, but then he was tying to get away in that case. As for the remains of the meal, it looks like another deer. Sadly the woods do not have Twinkies grazing free... so the Beast has had to feast upon the wildlife to keep his heavy metabolism requirements satisfied. As for docile, there's almost an answer to Logan's question as a loud feral growl of warning rings out through the trees. As for Hank's mind... Jean can sense it in the woods, but it's wrong... alien... filled with madness and rage. Though Jean can almost feel, almost sense, something lurking beneath that. Regressed... hibernating... hidden. There's a rustle of tree leaves and a large blue furred creature leaps through the tree tops above their heads with a snarl.
Logan freezes and snaps his head towards Jean when she touches his shoulder; it takes him a few moments of staring at her before he begins to relax, and a few more to stand upright. He draws in a deep breath - through his mouth - and after letting it out, he mutters, "Couple months ago, the day'a the Ukraine mission, he had a little episode--started snappin' and snarlin', gettin' in my face, outta nowhere, over a little ball breakin'. Right in Cyke's office, middle of a meeting." After turning his head and spitting, he looks to Jean again. "You got--"
His head turns up - turns right /towards/ - the Beast's feral cry; he has to force himself to stop growling and stop baring his teeth to the threat. "Jean," he rumbles, shifting to try and put himself between her and the woods, "He's--"
Right on top of them, and moving /fast/."
Without another word, Logan breaks into a full tilt run to keep pace with Hank, slashing ferociously through any flora unfortunate enough to have grown in his way.
|"I'll draw his attention, see if you can subdue him,"| Jean telepathically projects to Logan. She begins to glow, the firebird emerging as if from her very flesh, golden orange cosmic flames licking up around her, but on a small scale. "Hank," she calls out. "You need to calm down. You need to come home."
Deep down.... some aspect of Hank's mind recognizes Jean. Her scent is familiar, intoxicating, and dangerous. And should Jean try to touch his mind at all, there's a violent reaction trying to force her back out. Logan's a feral threat to his territory, but Jean... he's the dangerous one. The one that can try to make him sleep. So while Beast isn't operating with his genius intellect, he does have his instincts still. And works to draw Logan away from Jean, growing as silent as he can as he moves through the woods. And doubling back, moving swiftly through the trees... back towards the redhead. Jean's voice does earn a couple snarls though.
The havoc Logan's passage has wrecked on the forest helps to clue him in when they begin doubling back; with the confusing, intoxicating mix of primal instinct and predatory musk swirling in his brain, concentrating on anything beyond catching Hank has been difficult.
When they start cutting back across the trails he's already cut, Logan turns sharply towards a great old tree too massive to be mowed down in passing and hurls himself at it; with the help of his claws, he scales it quickly--quickly enough to leave scratches all over his arms and legs, though they'll be gone in seconds. From there, he'll leap through the treetops to chase after Hank on his level. He lacks his teammate's mobility here, and a few branches even creak and crack when he tries to put weight on them, but with the help of his claws, he should be able to keep a reasonable pace above the ground.
As Jean tries to touch Hank's mind she's violently tossed back out of it, and that makes her stagger a bit. She's not used to anyone, not even Charles, being able to throw her out since her return from space. The Phoenix flames flicker out around her in that brief moment of confusion as the cosmic entity she hosts puzzles about its failure. It's a moment of opportunity for the Beast.
Logan's taking to the trees earns him a better vantage point on 'The Beast', as it snaps it's head back to snarl at him. A branch of a tree ripped free and launched back at Logan.... before Hank leaps from the tree. He's diving with claws and fangs bared directly at Jean. A loud snarl of animalistic rage the only real warning that Jean will get now that she's momentarily distracted by the animal chasing her from Hank's mind. And somewhere... Cyclops may have an unknown reason to scream 'Jeeeeeeeaan!!!'.
Well, /that/ branch will certainly bring Logan crashing out of the treetops; the limb smashes into his body mid-leap and brings him tumbling to Earth. As soon as he hits the ground, he thrashes about a bit to throw the branch away from himself and regain his feet, and once he's upright, he takes off running to try and catch up. Between his awkward fall and the hacked up flora-remnants scattered everywhere, he can't help but stumble once or twice in his haste, which only slows him down further; he can hear - and smell, and /feel/ - the Beast descending upon Jean, but he can't see them. There's just too much of the forest that he hasn't hacked through yet. His own growls of frustration rumble through the trees as he fights to make it to them before it's too late.
Jean whirls at the physical sound since her mental 'ears' are turned off at the moment as she recovers. Then it's all blue fur and fangs and claws as Hank's weight hits her from above. She hits the ground, hard, feeling her teeth rattle in her skull and watching explosions of light erupt in her vision. She gets a telekinetic shield up around her body a moment later, but damage has already been done. There is blood. Logan can smell it. She screams.
The good news is... Beast's claws and teeth can't get through Jean's TK Shields, so he won't be ripping her apart. The bad news is... for all Logan knows, he did just that. As the sounds of Jean's scream and Hank's furious growling, clawing, slashing, and biting carry easily through the woods. As Logan enters the clearing, Beast who is still crouched upon the downed Jean.... snaps his head around. And this gives Logan his first good look at The Beast in his new form. While Hank was no lightweight before, now he's even larger, especially with all that fur. Probably nearly 300 pounnds, and with large claws and fangs. A bit of blood, either from a recent meal or from Jean on his lips. A warning growl is offered before Hank quickly moves off Jean... crouching infront of her and challenging Logan.
The smell of fresh blood washes over Logan a split-second after the horrific sounds of Hank's feeding hit his ears; he tries to speed up, and his foot immediately catches an exposed root, sending him barreling awkwardly for a few feet. It isn't until his shoulder crashes into a tree that he manages to stabilize himself at all, by bracing against it; even then, he pushes off of the thing to resume his sprint as soon as he's steady.
Soon after that, he bursts through a patch of foliage near Jean and the Beast with bared teeth and eyes full of murder. His hat is long gone - likely lost to a protruding limb a ways back - and his wild black hair is tangled with branches and leaves. His outer shirt hangs from his body in tatters and the front of the inner one is missing; the sandals are gone too, not that he noticed. Or cares. The time for blending is long, long past. So too, apparently, is the time for gentle measures or pleas to humanity; the claws do slowly slide back into their housings as Logan's eyes twitch around the scene, but as soon as they're gone - as soon as Hank steps up to challenge him - it's time for Logan to do what he does best.
Howling, he hurls himself at the reborn Beast, seemingly intent on tackling him to the ground--size difference be damned. He doesn't look Jean's way; the smell of blood from her prone body and the red stains around the Beast's mouth tell him enough.
Part of Jean, the part that is still intrinsically 'her', wants to get up and shout to Logan to stop, that she's ok, he didn't really hurt her. There's a few wounds but they're superficial and she'll be fine. But the other part of her, the Phoenix, who believes what is not superior should be destroyed. It keeps her from calling out, from moving, from doing anything other than watching the two feral men fight. Is either one worthy of her? She'll see who is still standing at the end.
As the man known as Wolverine charges, so does the once-man known as Beast. A loud feral snarl escaping his lips as the meet... colliding in a brutal frenzy of claws and fangs, feral passions and madness. Wolverine's long years of combat experience and fighting other feral beasts iving him one advantage, Beast's enhanced strength and pure feral mindset giving him the other. It's a glorious frenzy of slashing claws, biting jaws, and snarls and growls. Both sides giving as well as they get. While Logan may be fighting the instinct to use his claws, he's recieving no such consideration from Hank.
There is a little part of Logan that feels right at home fighting a bloodthirsty monster of a man in the wilderness while a woman he was too slow to protect lays wounded nearby. It's an old dance, a primal dance, one he could never forget the steps to, no matter how hard he may try; the first time Hank's claws draw blood - a vicious strike across his chest - he smiles as he staggers away from his teammate. It's a big, taut, toothy thing, mirthful in all the wrong ways, a grim acknowledgment that the first real blow may not have been his, but the last one will be.
It doesn't fade when he leaps back into the fray and throws punches that are more likely to rile the maddened professor than put him down; in fact, the stinging pain and bursting skin over his knuckles just makes /him/ angrier. Frustrates him; if they had a few hours to go at it, he /might/ get somewhere by trying to punch the Beast out, but he knows that Jean's injured nearby. Bleeding. He doesn't /have/ hours, and every blow that doesn't drop the Beast is another chunk of flesh torn from his body; eventually, when he sees an opening, he draws a clenched fist back, flexes his forearm, and--freezes; his smile falters. The hesitation won't last /long/, but it will leave him vulnerable all the same.
It's also more than clear now how much Hank tends to hold back when he fights. Why he's always talking so much in fights, and trying to defuse situations with his diplomtic mentality and well chosen words. Many would consider this side of Hank to be frightening, a monster. But it's always lurked beneath the surface. Logan's even seen it, shortly after the Ukraine trip. As the two fighters seperate for a moment, Beast pants and licks his bloody lips. His fur caked with mud, blood, sweat, and drool.... as he breaths heavily. When Logan hesitates, the Beast takes this as an opening... his poweful leg muscles flexing as he leaps. Diving to tackle Logan to the ground, his claws digging into his shoulder and side. As Hank's large beastial head snapping back in a feral snarl as he brings it down... planning to ravage Logan's throat and put a final end to him.
As Logan hesitates, Jean fights the Phoenix's urge to sit idly by and watch into submission. The woman hosting the cosmic creature can't let Hank hurt Logan. She cares about that man too much and right now she isn't sure if Hank's mutation is strong enough to really hurt wolverine. She also cares too much about one of her oldest friends to have this pain on his conscience.
It's a struggle, host against entity, and the Phoenix is so very strong. But then there is blood spraying from Logan's throat and something inside the redheaded mutant surges upwards and n harnesses the Phoenix to her will fully. "NO!" she screams, as she slams everything into simply turning out Hank's lights, a blaze of fiery force sweeping out to envelope and rip the mutated scientist off the other man.
She's on her feet in a moment, holding the Beast suspended as Jean drops to her knees at Logan's side, pressing her hands to the wound in his throat, her eyes seeking his, willing him to let her know his healing factor is working fine and he will survive this.
Logan's hesitation is cut violently short; before he knows it, three hundred pounds of snarling, bloodcrazed reality is atop him, and any questions he may have had about letting his instincts guide him are banished. His right arm raises--
--and then falls limp, when the Beast's jaws close around his throat.
His eyes are wide open, but he doesn't know when it is, exactly, that Hank decided to let him go; he could have been pinned there for days, for all he knows; in fact, he doesn't even know /why/. He is too focused on the agony of knitting flesh and the steady bubbling of blood from his shredded throat to think of such things. Thankfully, his eyes do drift vaguely in Jean's direction once he's aware of the pressure over the wound and her shadow over his body; give him a few seconds and he might be able to offer her a thumbs up to let her know he's alright. Give him a few minutes, and he might even be able to /say/ it.
"Please be all right. Please be all right," Jean whispers frantically at Logan. When he gives her the thumbs up, her relief is palpable but she procedes to demonstrate it by laying a heavy duty, toe-curling, kiss on him. That's something new. Ahem. She seems completely mortified as she pulls back from it, and mumbles, "sorry."