1964-06-18 - Social Workout
Summary: Colossus and Cyclops meet up in the X-Men base.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
piotr-rasputin scott 

There was a meeting of some sort earlier in the day, with some of the senior members of the staff and the team coming together in the more secret parts of the school here. Whatever it was, though, it must not have been immediately urgent, because the Blackbird is still in her bay, and Scott, who usually leads outings for the team, is in the gym, working a punching bag.

For as much as he pushes everyone, he pushes himself every bit as hard. He's been here for hours, sweat is dripping down inside his glasses, but he pushes himself for one more round with the heavy bag.

The sound of heavy steps approaching down the hallway leading to the gym precede the large form of Piotr Rasputin easing his way into the gym. He wears a simple pair of exercise shorts and a tank top that looks much too small on his huge torso. His eyes drift over to where Scott is working the bag and he snorts in amusement, eyes twinkling as he calls out, "You Americans and your fighting bags for training. Pity the bags don't hit back!" He chuckles as he walks, the angle of his feet carrying him toward the weight benches situated near the back corner of the room.

"Says the man who can't find someone to hit him back hard enough to matter," Scott pants back, looking over with a smirk. "Sort of in my own weight class around here most of the time anyhow." He sends another round of blows at the bag, but the truth is that he's starting to tire, limbs moving more slowly. "Little too much for most of the kids, not solid enough to go toe to toe with the folks like you. So. Bags it is."

Piotr laughs again, this time a bit louder as he casts a mock scrutinizing gaze over at where Scott is punching the bag. "Yes, you are a little on the runty side," he says jokingly, "It is not fault of your own. Americans are always on the small side. Do not worry. When danger comes our way, you can hide behind me, little boy." The grin wide across the big Russian's face is a clear indication that the man is enjoying his own jokes, as if his ringing laughter were not enough. He stoops and begins to heft forty-five pound plates and slide them on either side of the bench press bar, one after another.

"You're laughing, but that's the plan." Scott barks a brief laugh of his own, finally letting his hands fall and stepping back from the bag, chest heaving. "I'll just fire some shots over your shoulder, let you take the heat. Should see if I can bank one off you, actually." He steps aside, picking up a towel to wipe off his brow as he eyes the weights going onto the bar.

Over four hundred pounds goes onto the olympic bar before Piotr finally stops stacking on plates and moves around the bench and eases into a seated position. He pulls one arm across his chest, stretching for a few moments before alternating and pulling the other across. "So what is it that was being done in the war room?" Piotr asks before he lays back and slides beneath the bar. His hands find the bar and begins to adjust his hands on the grips.

"Info," Scott answers, dropping down on a bench to take a long drink of water. "Remy and Josh got back from Albuquerque, brought back info on that police brutality case. It looks like there's a cover-up going on, probably out of the governor's office. It's the why we're not quite sure of. Probably going to take a team down to investigate soon, see if we can find out what the real root of the problem is so we can help where we can."

There is no reply forthcoming from Piotr for some time as his hands grip the bar and his body contorts as he presses the bar up from the bench. It is held up long enough to orient the weight and settle it appropriately before the bar begins traveling down to make contact with the man's chest and slowly climb once more to the fullest extent of the Russian's long arms. The bar travels down and back up six times before falling heavily back into its support rack. Blowing out a sigh of relief, Piotr sits up and looks across toward Scott, "If you take a team, count me in. It would be nice to get out of the Mansion and stretch my legs in the field."

Scott nods once, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'll let you know," he agrees. "Could use a steady presence, I think. Logan's in. Which is useful, but probably not conducive to things going according to plan. Lorna wants in. Remy and Josh are still…slightly on the loose cannon side of things. Long as we can get everybody into the blackbird, it sounds like a solid team to me."

Nodding his head once again, Piotr says, "Is there anything I can do to help bring Remy and Josh in closer? To make them a little bit less of a… loose cannon, you said?" Piotr considers this phrasing for a few moments, considering the words in comparison to who they are directed toward. "I do not know either very well, but if I can help, you know that you can count on me."

"No, I think they're both with us, really," Scott shakes his head. "They're just new here, and we haven't had a chance to team-build the way I'd like to have done before we get into the field, is all." And lord knows, Scott doesn't fool around with his team-building. "Josh seems to be still really coming to believe we're real and we're not hiding some dark secret. Remy seems to be grateful for the opportunity to work with us. But we're not in a time or a place where we can wait to see how it all comes out, so into the field we go."

Piotr nods his head and says, "Yes, well. As I said, count me in on whatever missions you are having planned for us. I am starting to get cramped up in this house. It would be good to get out and travel some, even if it is just for short time." With that Piotr leans back on the bench and continues with his workout.

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