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The Main Event	By : Karen Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Fox & Marvel. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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It was still relatively early in the day and Marie was enjoying her second cup of coffee on the terrace of the Park Avenue penthouse that had been Warren’s wedding gift to her. As she hadn’t been named as a defendant in the lawsuits and the apartment’s deed was solely in her name anyway, it hadn’t been seized by the government when her husband skipped the country. Warren had paid cash and so although there was no mortgage payment, the $5,000 per month condo association fee still needed to be covered. This hadn’t been an issue when her bank account had maintained a healthy balance, but currently it was worse than when she’d first arrived in the city ten years earlier. The Bentley that had been her first anniversary present was being sold for less than half of its original purchase price, but she was desperate for an infusion of cash and had accepted the insulting offer. Once those funds became available they would help keep her afloat for a few months, but ultimately the penthouse would have to be put on the market.
The musical jingle of the doorbell interrupted her peaceful morning. The concierge desk in the lobby hadn’t notified her of any visitors and only Warren Junior and Scott were permitted to come up without being announced first. As she no longer employed a fulltime housekeeper, she put her cup down and went to greet whoever it was herself.
Opening the front door she was surprised to find Logan and another man that she recognized as the cowboy hat-wearing poker player from the gym, standing in the hallway.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded, “This is supposed to be a secured building.”
“Your doorman is an ex-fighter, so he did us a favor,” Logan replied. Without waiting for an invitation, he brazenly brushed past Marie and walked into her home.
“Yeah, well he’s finished around here,” she huffed.
“Funny, he said the same thing about you,” the other man said – then added, “I’m John Wraith, by the way.”
Wraith and Marie followed Logan into the living room, where Logan dropped down onto one of the pristine white couches.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Marie said sarcastically – fighting the urge to slip a towel under him to protect her expensive furniture from the dirt and oil stains on Logan’s faded jeans. She also tried to ignore the way his white t-shirt clung to his well-formed torso.
John Wraith sat in one of the white chairs next to where his friend was parked.
Exasperated and realizing they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon, Marie relented and sat in the other chair.
Logan cut right to the chase. “Why are you hounding me about the contract?” he asked. Gesturing to the elegant surroundings he added, “You don’t seem to be hurting for money.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but my husband emptied out our joint bank account, so I don’t have any money. the gossipy doorman with no apparent respect for the tenant’s privacy is correct; I probably won’t be here for much longer. I’ve got a realtor coming by this afternoon to discuss listing the apartment because I can’t afford to maintain it beyond a couple more months – and eventually the furniture and artwork will be sold as well.” She tamped down the urge to burst into tears – determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of Logan and his rude assumptions.
Instead of saying anything sympathetic, he asked, “Can I get a beer?”
“It’s 9 a.m.,” Marie observed.
“What’s your point?” he responded.
“What’s your point?” she replied, not bothering to make any attempt to play waitress and fetch him a beer or anything else. It had only been a few minutes, but she was already starting to get irritated with his audacity.
“Call off your dogs.”
Marie shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about? What dogs?”
“Your lawyer had Logan served with papers yesterday,” Wraith explained for him, “They’ve shut down the driving school.”
Scott had mentioned that he’d found a way to insure that Logan would have to resume fighting, but he hadn’t given her any specifics and Marie hadn’t pressed for any details.
“Well, I guess now you’ll just have to fight,” she said triumphantly.
“He can’t,” Wraith told her.
“And why not?”
“Go ahead, Logan, tell her,” Wraith insisted.
“I haven’t gotten into the ring in five years because the last time I was in one, I killed a man,” he said bluntly.
“What?!”
“The guy’s name was Fred Dukes. It was the end of the sixth round and I was way behind in points.” He nodded his head in Wraith’s direction, “John over there tells me I gotta stop dicking around and take this guy down. When the bell signals the start of the seventh round, I come out of the corner swinging. I hit him with uppercuts, right hooks, left hooks. I’m using every punch in the playbook. I land a solid counterpunch on his left jaw – but even though he wobbles slightly and I know just one more tap is gonna take him out, I wanna go for the knockout. So I do … and hit him with a liver punch. Two seconds later he’s kissing the canvas.”
Marie is sitting there with her mouth open – riveted by Logan’s story.
“But Fred doesn’t get up after the count is finished. He’s just lying there. That’s when everyone realizes that something’s wrong.” Logan started to choke up and continued, “At his funeral I knelt down and swore to his four year-old son that I would never use my fists as lethal weapons ever again.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t know,” Marie said as she clasped her hand to her chest.
“And one more thing,” Logan added, “He was my best friend.”
“Uh huh,” Marie said, suddenly regaining her composure. “You know you almost had me.”
“The best friend thing too much?” he asked.
Standing up, she yelled, “Get out of my apartment!” Then she reached over, grabbed him by his white t-shirt and yanked him up off of her couch.
In the elevator on the way down, John Wraith repeated, “‘And he was my best friend.’   Howlett, you’re the dumbest white man I’ve ever met.”

                                                                                ~*~*~*

Logan’s attempts to avoid honoring his contract had reached a dead-end and a match had been set up at a small arena in Asbury Park, New Jersey. On the drive to the venue, Wraith had to pull over because Logan was feeling nauseous.
“Does he always get sick before a match?” Marie inquired from the backseat. She’d chosen to ride down with the two men instead of just meeting them there – mainly to insure that Logan actually showed up and couldn’t claim they’d gotten lost.
“He’s just upset they switched fighters on us,” Wraith explained.
Logan’s opponent was supposed to have been the Brooklyn Bleeder – a low-rent fighter with the reputation of being easy to knockout. It should’ve been a relatively easy match for Logan’s first time back in the ring. But the Bleeder had managed to get his jaw broken in his previous fight and had been replaced on the roster by someone with the more menacing stage name of The Widow Maker.
Wraith handed her his cell phone that displayed a photo of Logan’s new opponent. It made her shudder. The man’s face looked like it had been through a meat grinder and then clumsily stitched back together by Dr. Frankenstein. The wide, crooked smile revealed that most of his front teeth were either broken or missing completely.
“But why’s he worried? He heals,” Marie said as she handed him back his phone. She felt like she was stating the obvious and didn’t understand why there was a problem.
“Still fucking hurts,” Wraith reminded her.
“Oh,” she replied contritely.
“Besides,” he continued, “His healing power has slowed a bit due to lack of use.”
“Lack of use?” she repeated, scrunching her face in puzzlement.
“When Logan was boxing, his mutation also got a workout. Take away the body’s need to repair itself from daily beatings and things just naturally slow down,” he explained.
“Which means if he sustains injuries, not only will it hurt like hell, but it’s going to take more than just moments to completely recover,” Marie said in realization.
“Yeah … and he’s so pissed off at you that I doubt he’d want you to kiss his boo-boos all better.”
Marie had been willing to push Logan back into the ring because she’d been confident in his mutant ability to heal. She hadn’t considered the fact he wasn’t immune to pain, or even the possibility that he wouldn’t recover almost immediately.

Several hours later they were heading back to the city, but this time it was Marie on the side of the road emptying the contents of her stomach.
“I knew she couldn’t take it,” Wraith said triumphantly – having predicted that Marie wouldn’t be able to handle the raw brutality of boxing.
Opening the door and getting back in the car, she stole a peek at Logan who was sitting quietly in the back seat. He’d been pulverized. He had a bandage across the bridge of his nose, a swollen lip and the beginning bruise of a black eye. Marie rolled down her window and inhaled a large gulp of air, hoping that would help her avoid puking again.
Wraith turned to Logan and gave him a conspiratorial nod.
“You’ve gotta get him in better shape,” she finally said.
“WHAT!” Wraith and Logan both shouted.
“And we’ve got to get him matches with nicer people,” she added.
Wraith glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught Logan mouthing, “Help me” before sinking back into the seat and closing his eyes.
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The Main Event