2014.04.27 - On the Warpath

It's late. Far later than would be for prying eyes to see a seven-foot-plus Native American man walking through this neighborhood. He knows the house, and while he doesn't know the way to get in without triggering the alarm, he's kinda hoping on that last part to alert the man he needs to see.
James reaches the house, and rather than risk a fight with cops that can't win, he goes to the back. He walks up to the back door and looks around, and takes the knob. Then gently bumps it with his shoulder...
Which promptly knocks it clean off its hinges. He nods in approval, as he still has the doorknob in his hand. He replaces the door back where it should be though slightly askew since it took the jamb with it.
Jimmy then proceeds to raid the fridge and wait. Oooh, there's coldcuts. That means it's dagwood time.
It doesn't take long. Cable is immediately notified by Graymalkin that there's an intruder in one of his safehouses. It's not one of the major ones; simply a house, lacking the futuristic weapons and technology, mostly intended to allow others to rest in safely. Given the door appears to be busted open, his first thought is home invader. No matter. He'll make them regret it. "Bodyslide by one." he mutters, setting down tools upon his workbench.
A moment later, there's a blue whirl and a crack. And hovering in the air is... not exactly a familiar figure. It's been some years, but -- Cable looks far older than he should, to Proudstar. "...Ngh." he suddenly grunts, falling to his feet. "NNNGH!!" A moment later he's upon his knees, grasping the sides of his head. Goddamnit. It's been awhile since he's been divebombed meeting someone that his former self knew closely... and it's probably going to be a touch surprising to Warpath.
Jimmy gets up from the massive sandwich he made himself waiting for Cable. It seems he's in trouble, and he heads to help his old friend. Well, oldER friend. "Christ, you look like shit, man. What the hell's happened to you THIS time?" he asks, reaching to help him up.
"...Hangover." Cable states with a grunt, finally pushing back to his feet and rubbing at his temple. His eyes shift to the sandwich. That meat and mayo's expired. He's not going to say anything. "Been awhile... what've you been up to these past years? ...Outside breaking my door." Turning towards it, Cable's left eye flares orange, and suddenly the wood presses together, hinges realign, and each screw quickly settles back into place, leaving it good as new. "Found out what you want to do with your life yet?"
Jimmy figured about as much with the meat and mayo. He'll pay for it later, but he's hungry now. Besides, he's eaten worse.
He shakes his head, "Not as much as you seemed to have," he says, standing in front of the other mutant as the repairs are made, "But maybe that's ok. Spent too much time underground - a hermit. I'm never going to find out who did it, am I? You've known that, but you've been waiting, because I needed to know it too." he shrugs, looks down, looks back up. "So I'm in. Whatever next level mutant shit you've got going on? I want a part of. Figured you might be able to point me in a direction and have me take down whatever it is that's standing."
"Vengeance..." Cable states to say, but then slowly smiles. A hand opens, and he pulls a beer from the fridge before slamming it shut in a flash of telekinetics. "I have no goddamn right to lecture on vengeance. Not when I'm hunting Apocalypse like a mangy dog with every fiber of my being." That's a name James has likely not heard yet. "Ah." He digs in a pouch, pulling out a pamphlet. It reads: 'En Sabah Nur and You: The Face of Apocalypse' with his big ugly mug. It's full of rather thorough info on his history, crimes, and the whole 'hiding in this timestream' point. He got sick of telepathically telling people over and over about it. "Right now, I've got a team. And through it, we might be able to find out what happened to your people." A lazy sort of stretch follows. "But I've got standards. You've probably gotten soft since I trained you... can't be having someone dragging their weight..." A smirk follows. Cocky. Insinuating. And almost expectant.
James Proudstar pockets the Cable Chick Tract to read later and crosses his arms in front of his chest, and lops his head to one side, "Do I /look/ soft to you? Do I /look/ like a deadweight? You know me well enough to know that you don't have anyone one on your team that can barely break sweat and I don't even know who they are. From the looks of things, that might include you. You look like you got old, fat, and slow on me."
A lazy crack of the neck is done by Cable, shoulders rolling. "I look damn good for a man my age." he offers, moving to settle himself opposite Warpath. Although hardly a small man, every aspect of the elder Nathan is lesser. "But you...? I'd put you second from the bottom on my current roster. And I'm at the top." A metal finger extends, to tap James in the chest. "So. Impress me."
James Proudstar chuckles, and looks around, "Not here. This place wouldn't be standing when I was done. So what do you want - proof I've still got what it takes? Wanna see I still got the edge?"
Twin knives, brutal and tribal looking things like a tomahawk and a Bowie knife had an unholy union, come up before James is finished speaking. He doesn't threaten Nathan with them at all, but he does perform a series of blindingly fast, intricate moves all around Nathan's head, before sheathing them to prove his point. "Fine. Give me something to do. When I've done it, you can put me on whatever rung you want."
Warpath's fast. Faster than Nathan is innately, and he's well above peak human. The knifework is certainly decent. Improved since the last time he saw it. He can sense a greater strength and durability, too. But still... a hesitation. "Alright. Here's your first test." Without warning, Cable shifts forward and swings his left arm right for Warpath's face. Simply unleashing it, stace and motion contributing to a punch able to shatter steel, and send James Proudstar right through the fridge, wall, and into the grass yard beyond. "For the record? I don't care if this place remains standing."
James Proudstar takes it. He digs in his stance, braces himself, and takes the shot on the chin. It would shatter most people's heads, it'd kill other heroes, hell it might even make Wolverine think twice before taking another. Warpath, though, is not most people or most mutants.
The shot lands true, his head snaps like a whipcrack, and he smiles back at Cable. "Good, I was starting to get bored."
He launches himself backwards and uses a single hand to pick up and fling the refrigerator at his old friend sending old food, cold beers, and condiments flying. His next move is to grab the table and swing it for Cable's side like one of those pro wrestler swings a steel chair.
Oho. Warpath managed to keep his stance and not go flying backwards. Impressive. Back when they were first training, James was often knocked around by that left hook of his. Although now it's more a lovetap; enough to hurt, bruise, split lips, but not seriously injure. He can feel the reverberations through his body. Yes. Warpath's upgraded. The sudden refridgerator is intercepted by both arms crossed, force skidding him backwards and slamming him into a wall, plaster exploding in all directions. He hurls it aside effortlessly, only for the table to explode on his side. That sends him to a knee. Good thing it was cheap wood; a lot of the kinetic force was lost breaking on him. But he's still well above in martial prowess, twisting to strike out at Warpath's ankle in an attempt to knock him to the ground. His left arm whirls, manifesting a plasma cannon to then begin firing in intense blasts of blue energy. It'd only singe and damage his clothing even if it hit, but. Well. It's definitely cool looking.
James Proudstar gets knocked to the ground by the blow but only pauses a beat when the arm turns into a cannon and strts firing. He scoots along the way, and he doesn't specifically take a shot though he gets singed. Enough movement though to sweep a leg out and hook Cable's ankle to bring him off balance while he kips up and drills one to Cable's gut - on his way down if he falls, and a stright up slug if he doesn't.
Damnit. Warpath's so damn /fast./ His plasma fire erupts into the building and blows holes that make the street visible, blackening cheap wallpaper. All he can do is try to predict the motions; his mental perception is able to fully keep up with James, although his body is another matter. Accepting the sweep of the leg, his right arm folds up, taking the blow squarely, driving him into the floor and creating a great crater that shakes the foundation of the house; but in the midst fires off a rapid series of blows with his left hand, one knuckle extended, aiming to condense tens of tons of force right into his temple hopefully a few times before Warpath recovers from that massive blow. "Tch...!!" At this rate, he's going to be forced to use his powers. And that would be conceding defeat...!
James Proudstar isn't braced this time and the strikes into his temple not only send him sprawling but open him up, a spiderweb of blood along his temple and high cheek bone of that side. It slows him down, but sure as hell doesn't stop him. He chuffs, like a bull getting enraged. He's not mad yet, he's still sparring, but his blood is getting raised just the same. He advances back towards Cable, not drawing his knives again (for the same reason Cable isn't using his powers yet) and rips off a chunk of solid counter top and flings it at the older man's direction as a diversion as he tries to flat out dropkick him.
A fierce punch intercepts the thrown piece of counter, but a shoulder barely shifts in time to take the dropkick. There's no enduring this. He's literally sent flying through the living room, shattering a couch, busting through the television, and erupting out the wall in an explosion of grass. Digging fingers into the green turf, he slides to a stop, brown furrows in his wake. A moment later he grasps his right arm, and with a grunt pops the shoulder back into the socket.
And then he's rushing forward. With a roar, he opens his left palm, and there's a blinding FLASH of light. All the worse, for someone with sensitive eyes. If this leaves Warpath vulnerable, the disturbingly dextrous elder man would shift to grasp Warpath by the wrist in both hands while hooking his throat with a knee, and try to take him down to the ground. Hard. What makes such worse is it's liable to break every joint from wrist to shoulder if it works; he has the leverage and power to do such, if the maneuver is performed properly. Someone's not playing nice!
Warpath seethes as his is blinded. But the minute Cable touches him, his awareness kicks in. When he is grabbed by both of the elder mutant's hands, Jimmy decides he too can deal with a dislocated shoulder he can shove back in rather than deal with the pain in the ass of broken joints, so biting the bullet and letting it happen he pivots his waist and sends a kick to the side of Cable's head. Whether it has much power on it, or does anything is secondary. Getting him out of that grip is priority.
Damn. Not fast enough. Warpath manages to whirl up a kick, and Cable's in a poor position to dodge. The strike hits true, although he tries to twist with the motion, using the inertia of it to at least take out one wrist before spiralling away, impacting the staircase and shattering through, debris falling atop. Slowly he pushes through, reeling obviously and grasping the side of his head. Okay. He just blacked out for a second...
Warpath knows this needs to end. He can't relent, even if he wants to. This is his mentor. His teacher. The one that took him in when he literally had no one else. So he quickly clears the debris, snags Cable's good arm to cinch it into a bar behind his back and plants a knee there. "We good?" he asks, tone flat, but hopeful.
Cable can feel it. The flex of muscle. The strain of bones. He's remarkably durable, even his organic half, but within the hands of Warpath it's like a piece of tinder. "Alright... alright... ...I'll get serious." Cable grumbles. His eye flashes orange, and suddenly an intense eruption of telekinetic energy blows straight upwards. This is no lovetap; this is far stronger than his left can manage, trying to blow Warpath all the way up to the second floor. This is enough to bloody and injure, now. "Step 1... make me use my powers. Step 2... survive. You want in on the combat team... the other two managed."
James Proudstar is blown up and out. But by no weapon he can surmise. "What the hell is going on here?" is all he has time to think before he goes to the second floor the hard way, cracking three ribs in the process and cutting him up a fair bit in the process. If Cable's using his powers, so will he. He pulls one knife, for now and jumps back down in front of the old man, "You're different." he says, "What happened?" noting the change in offense.
"You think you're the only one who improved?" Cable wonders, as blue telekinetic energy whirls around him. It's coating his entire body now, debris caught in the tornado and flung wildly. His left eye glows steadily orange, hovering slightly in the air. "When we first met, I knew it was only a matter of time before you surpassed me physically. ...But I was created to be the strongest psionic ever to live. For years I could only keep the virus at bay... but through Askani meditations, I conquered it. And allowed my powers to grow." He then beckons with his left arm. "Come. Don't worry. I can heal us both. ...there's no need to hold back. Show me your limits, Warpath. So I can help teach you to break them down...!"
James Proudstar nods, "Well, I hope so..because this is gonna hurt us both..a LOT" he says, and throws himself at Cable. Don't hold back? Alright! He doesn't try to, throwing himself into the fight. He pours himself onto Cable - one knife becomes two, using the blades as extensions of himself, to attack, to defend, to use as he needs for as long as this carris out which with these two..could literally be days. It doesn't stop him calling every once of warrior spirit to the fore, pushing himself even farther than he had ever to manage.
It's immediately apparent that James has lost the speed advantage entirely. Cable shifts around almost a blur, weaving away from the blades, striking them aside. Now and then he attempts a blow of his own; well into fifty tons, and with a martial prowess beyond Warpath even with his blades. "Don't get cocky..." Cable offers, leaning back as a blade rips through his telekinetic shield, a red lash across his face. "I said I was presently the top fighter in the group..." While before, it felt like Warpath was going over twice as fast as Cable, now Warpath would feel like Cable was going almost four times as fast as his peak. On top of such, each blow and strike has enough force to wound him, with sheer brute power. He's not unscathed, of course, a good dozen lashes ripping into his form. "Hmph. Durable... But I don't wish to win a battle of attrition." It's always deadly to do what comes next. Each time he does, he shaves off more of his life. But eyes close, and suddenly the telekinetic energy on his body roars like a sun. Crackles of telekinetic lightning roll over him, and random pieces of nearby shattered scenery begin to float, his condensed telekinesis bleeding into the world. Metal can be seen inching up his neck, like a pool of spilled paint. "Let's finish it."
<< Insert lost pose round where James rips off his shirt and makes a thunderbolt of blood, before Cable tackles him down into the basement twinkily >>
Cable's tactics follow as perscribed. Warpath is struck, then he is hurled into the ground, throught he first floor and the two are at close combat in the basement. The blow injures Warpath but that doesn't make him down or out by a stretch. He pulls his knives, and presses hard an attack to Nathan, blades this time making contact - vibranium blades, the same that Cable gifted him, seeking to cut flesh and damage cybernetics. He isn't going to go hand to hand with Cable if he has the knives right here to match him.
One of the blades swishes past Cable's face, but the second impales his metallic left hand to the hilt. Thrusting down to grasp hand and blade thereafter, there's little remaining to the subtleness of the encounter. Covered in debris, the house mostly collapsed, Cable will simply grit his teeth, shift a knee to press Warpath down and prevent him from rising, and attempt to strike him repeatedly in the face with his left arm until he blacks out, regardless of how bloody it makes his knuckles or how many times he might get stabbed in the process -- which is likely a fair amount. A bit of a brute force approach... but he's running low on time. Metal has gotten to his eyebrows now, further than he's let it go since arriving in this world. Channel at least gave up... she could have gone on. Damnable Proudstar, though -- he's going to have to try and end it!!
Warpath doesn't stay down, but doesn't come all the way up. He gets struck in the face, and strikes back himself, punching with the hilt of his knife towards Cable's side. The other one making an attempt to defend. It's not much on either, but he's still got some spit in him, and Cable should've never had said what he did about number two rung. Right now, he's fighting for at least that, if not equal billing. He'll put himself on the line for it and never think twice.
The last blow that strikes Cable in the face knocks him off, left hand ripped open by the blade; in a great CRACK of energy, his telekinetic energy disperses, so violently the walls and ceiling cave slightly. Staggering backwards into some rubble, bleeding from multiple wounds, he manages something of a croaking laugh. "Well. I'll be. You got tougher than I thought." He may have been physically far superior to James in all counts, but with his time limit, that doesn't mean a whole lot. Of course, then his left eye flares orange, teeth gritting as he lifts his hand. A sudden, intense blast of psychic energy rips out, trying to swirl around the battered James' mind and then *squeeze* the consciousness out of him, like water from a sponge. "You might be #2 after all..."
Warpath feels the psychic energy wrap around his head, and has nothing for that defense yet. He grins, knives slipping to the ground, "Bet your ass..number two..hell..even number one..cheat..errrrr..." and at that, he falls out, unconscious at the hand of Cable's psionic attack..and a helluva beating besides.
A slow exhale leaves Cable, stumbling backwards and thudding into the wall, sliding down. He feels the metal on his face, realizing how far he pushed himself. That's bad. Pretty bad. Shit. See what happens when you get arrogant, Nathan...? It might be humorous for Warpath to eventually wake up to find Cable a cocoon of shiny metal, only to hatch and try and destroy the world. He simply sits there, breathing deeply and focusing inwards, forearms on his knees and blood seeping out unattended. The techno-organic virus is rampaging... stopping it's spread is hard. Hard enough it began to scare him. But then it halts, and he begins to regress it at a snail's pace. "Fucker." he grunts. "Next time, I'm going to rip out your mind from the start..."
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