Chapter 7: Teach an Old Dog (or Victor) New Tricks

July 1

Howlett Estate

This was the first time in decades that the beginning of July hadn't marked something horrible like a Reaping or a televised execution, as was the case last year — but that hadn't stopped Clint from making horrible jokes about how the day was cursed. Natasha had made him swear not to repeat those jokes in front of anyone who actually thought that way, but when the doorbell rang, she was halfway convinced that he was right.

After all, that was half the reason Kate and Kurt had taken such a long honeymoon — Kate had not wanted to be around at the beginning of July.

When she got to the door, she was expecting Mac with news about Creed doing something horrible — or a SHIELD agent telling them that Hydra had resurfaced. Something horrible. Instead, she saw a slight man with long, white hair and a white beard and mustache standing next to Director Coulson, his hands folded demurely in front of himself.

"Is there any way someone could get Logan to come down?" Coulson said, turning toward Cassie as the youngest resident of the mansion had also apparently come to investigate the door.

"Can do," Cassie promised with a smile, and she zipped off with Coulson, chatting animatedly with him as she always did when she had the chance to catch up with anyone.

As soon as they left, Natasha invited the old man inside, though she watched him with a healthy dose of wariness as he smiled to himself and simply followed her.

A short time later, Logan showed up at the entryway looking relieved to see the old man, though Skye had a similar expression to Natasha. "Master Po," Logan said with a little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth before he bowed to the old man. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

Po inclined his head toward him for a moment as Logan straightened up. "Judging by the scars and bruises, you've been getting beaten up a lot."

"I've handled myself okay, for the most part, but I could use some work," Logan admitted.

"Is that what you'd like chiseled on your tombstone then, assuming there's enough left to fill a grave?" Po asked as he accepted the cup of tea from Mrs. O'Malley, who looked stunned at the old man's sentiment. Logan's eyes flashed for just a moment, but he simply shook his head 'no'.

"I will teach you if you wish to be taught," Po told him quietly over the scent of jasmine filling the room. "Of course, the agreement will be the same."

"What does he have to do?" Skye asked, obviously having flashbacks to watching Ogun work Logan over.

"I only ask that he submit himself to me completely," Po answered, watching Logan. "And follow my every command without thought or hesitation. Can you do that, Logan?"

He didn't hesitate to bow his head. "I can."

"Splendid!" Po said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "Then let's get started." With that, the two of them left, headed toward the ballroom that was once again being used as a training room. Po explained to Logan on the way: "For the foreseeable future, you may look at that room as our dojo — but in it or out, my word is law."

After they left, Skye looked up at Coulson with a frown. "Are you sure that letting him ... submit like that is the right thing to do?"

"It's the way Master Po works," Coulson explained. "But he isn't one of the bad ones. I know it sounds a lot like Ogun, but believe me: This guy is the farthest thing from it."

"He's not totally healed yet," she pointed out.

"And Master Po has been made aware of that situation. He won't do anything to cause Logan any more harm or make him backtrack." Coulson looked as if he'd been prepared to have this talk with any one of the handful of people that would think it their business to interject their opinion — and he'd asked every question of the old man himself already. "Believe me: I have dug as far into this guy as anyone ever could — and Logan requested him."

"Logan requested him?" Skye repeated.

"Yes," Coulson replied. "He said he needed a tune-up."

"Can I read those files?" Natasha asked, finally speaking up.

"Of course," Coulson said.

"I want them too," Skye said with a little frown.

"I'll leave them here for you," Coulson promised. "But before I do, I needed a word, Skye."

"Sure, whatcha need, DC?" she asked with a crooked grin.

Coulson took a moment to afford her a fond smile before he recomposed himself. "I need you to very gently find the parameters of Norman Osborn's system. Don't crack into it just yet. I don't want him ramping it up prematurely, but I have a feeling that we'll need to get into it soon."

"Anything happen that I should try and poke into while I'm there?" she asked.

"Just between us, and please don't tell Logan," Coulson said low enough for Skye and Natasha, "Jessica Drew has gone missing."

Both women stopped and turned toward him. "He'd… want to know about that," Skye said quietly.

"He'd go busting in there and break people," Coulson replied. "And until we can prove that Osborn did it, we can't let him go in."

"Let me look into it," Natasha offered. "Clint and I were just saying we needed something to do."

"Right now, we've got the locals on it," Coulson admitted. "We're trying to make sure that no one associated with SHIELD gets involved yet."

"You know i'm technically still an agent, right?" Skye pointed out. "I'm only on medical leave."

"You're also operating outside of the country," Coulson replied. "Anything out of Seven would look more like international espionage than a SHIELD issue."

"So I'm back to being a terrorist again," Skye said with a crooked grin.

"Yes, please."

"And you'll let me know if you need anything else?" Natasha asked with one eyebrow pointedly raised.

"Top of my list," Coulson promised.

July 3

Howlett Manor

Peter Quill had heard from Kitty that Logan had a new trainer, and he was honestly curious about it. The guy had been trained in stuff that he knew for a fact none of the other victors had been trained in.

So he made his way down to where he knew Po and Logan would be and shouldered through the door. "Alright if you have an audience?" he asked as he looked for a place to pull up a seat, intending to stay anyway.

"You have to center yourself if you decide to remain here, Mr. Quill. But if you think he needs your supervision too — by all means, stay," Po told him easily, though he didn't turn to face the young man in question. The offer took Quill off-guard, but he readily agreed and found a spot well out of the way to simply watch as the two of them started up.

It began simple enough. But it progressed quickly, and a little over two hours later, Quill had decided when Po cracked Logan across the back of his head with one of the wooden bokken that he simply didn't like the angle this trainer was taking.

"When I agreed to train you, I did not realize I would have so very little to work with," Po said as Logan got back to his feet. "You fight like a bull — always seeing red. Do you think this is an honorable trait? To needlessly absorb punishment so?"

"I've always taken my licks," Logan defended. "And I've dealt out my share along the way. I try to be the best."

"At what? Getting punched in the face? Having your skin burned off? Bleeding all over creation? You do seem very good at all those things." Po shook his head. "You have no chance of standing up against Victor Creed or anyone else unless you stop treating your body like a rented car. Remember the lessons you've learned. Stop trying to learn them over and over."

It was plain for even Quill to see that Logan was getting pretty ticked off, so when Po invited him to attack, he was sure it wasn't going to be pretty. He was just wrong at how it was going to go: Po cracked Logan in the head again after slipping through his attack.

"You're slow as a slug. This is hopeless. You'd have a better chance at diplomacy. I heard you did well talking your way out of that hoard of ninjas."

"I've killed plenty of ninjas," Logan said with a growl as he got to his feet, but Po waved him off.

"Ninjas are unskilled imbeciles. Any fool can kill a ninja. My dog could kill a ninja."

"You don't have a dog," Logan pointed out.

"That's because it was put to death, just like you're going to be if you don't get it together and learn to fight like a man. But all I am is a humble master of eighty-two different Chinese martial arts. There's only so much I can teach a guy." He waited until Logan was in position to start again. "Good. We'll go for a walk. I think some fresh air will do you some good," Master Po told him before he turned to Quill. "You are always welcome to observe." With that, the two of them stepped outside.

Quill startled before he halfway rushed after them. "Hey, waitamminut."

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Quill?" Master Po asked brightly.

"Yeah, you can lay off the abuse, man," Quill said, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"It's fine, Quill," Logan said, one hand outstretched.

"See, my friend here is an idiot and doesn't stand up for himself sometimes, and I'm telling you now," Quill said, not addressing Logan but glaring Po's way, "that I'm not okay with someone hitting him. It kinds pisses me off."

"You would prefer he continues on until Victor Creed or some other comparable lunatic finds all of the weak points in his defenses?"

"I'm pretty sure you can teach him without being a jerk about it."

"Have you managed to teach him much, Peter Quill?" Master Po asked. "Because I have done this before, and I am well aware of how to get his attention best."

Quill crossed his arms. "He's a hardhead. Not an animal."

"The fighting we've done today has only shown me that we need to train his eyes first. Everything has a weakness. A stresspoint. You just have to see it." Po waited to see if Logan had caught any of that before he pressed his fingers to one temple. "More blind than Murdock. I'd be better off teaching you how to die with dignity." He shook his head hard before he took the few steps to where Logan was standing. "Today, you will show me around the grounds. Tomorrow, we'll start with balance, then move on to vision and how to listen."

July 6

Howlett Estate

Clint had woken up early one morning because Natasha had a nightmare. She didn't have them nearly as often as when they were younger and she was freshly out of the Red Room — or as often as she had when she had just come back from the Capitol — but she still had them sometimes, and when that happened, it was safer to just leave the room so she didn't feel like she was being watched.

Nobody else was awake — except, he discovered when he stumbled into the kitchen, for the cook, who was busily folding dough for cinnamon rolls.

"Sorry," he said quickly, raising a hand in greeting. "I was just coming down for some toast and coffee."

"Are you sure you don't want anything more substantial than that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, as if such a small breakfast was completely unacceptable.

"Not awake enough for much more," he admitted. She nodded politely and went back to her dough rolling before she put those in the oven and got started on some sausages and eggs that Clint knew would be gone before the time he usually got down to breakfast — seeing as the early risers would usually devour the first round before the slowpokes got up.

It was a quiet morning, too. Logan was training, Skye was working on a project of some kind, but for the most part, the place was quiet. Natasha had told him what was going on with Jessica Drew, but there hadn't been any change… Clint was half sure Natasha would just tell him one morning they were going to Eight, and that would be that

Suddenly, Clint sat up a bit straighter as he spotted something outside, and he watched with a little smile as a yellow labrador came bounding through the snow. But to his surprise, the dog came right to the door of the kitchen and pawed at it, and the cook let out a soft smile before she grabbed up some of the food she'd been making and went to let the stray in.

"Who does he belong to?" Clint asked as he jumped down off the counter to let the dog sniff his hand.

The cook shook her head. "He doesn't belong to anyone," she explained. "But he comes by every morning like clockwork." She smiled a bit. "He likes my cooking."

"Smart dog," Clint said with a grin. "Can I pet him?"

She nodded. "He's a good dog; he's never once growled at or bitten any of us."

Clint grinned and sat down beside the dog, scratching him behind the ears and then, with the cook's permission, sitting with the stray while he finished his breakfast. "He got a name?" he asked. "I mean ... do you guys call him anything?"

She shook her head with another smile as she watched him playing with the lab. "We haven't named him, no. Like I said, he just comes by in the mornings."

"Well, he needs a name. I'll think of something," Clint said. He continued to play with the lab until he was full on rubbing the stray's tummy and completely involved in trying to think of a good name.

"If you plan to keep him, he'll need a proper bath," she told him. "I'm sure he's covered in fleas."

"But I can keep him?" Clint asked, perking up entirely.

"You might want to pass it by our James."

Clint couldn't help grinning at her name for Logan. "Who can resist this face?" he asked as he scratched the dog's ears again. "I'm sure he'll let you stay, boy. I'll run the bath myself."

"He does have a soft spot for animals," she told him with a little smile.

"Hear that?" Clint said, grinning at the yellow lab. "Give it another ten minutes for him to get down here and you'll have a bath and a name and I'll figure something out for a collar probably…" He just kept grinning. "You're one lucky dog."

July 8

Howlett Estate

Quill had been following through on Po's invitation and had made it a point to go and at least watch the beat down that Logan was taking on without any complaint. He didn't like the way Po was doing things, but it also wasn't like either Po or Logan was going to listen to his complaints.

So when Skye showed up for coffee that morning, it just seemed like the simplest solution had presented itself.

She gave him a little smile. "Something wrong?" she asked as she half-curled up in her chair with her coffee mug. "You look like you've got smoke coming out of your ears."

"I thought by now you might have checked in on Logan's newest … teacher." Quill said with a look of distaste.

"On my to-do list," she admitted. She tilted her head at him curiously. "Have you met him?"

"I spent most of the morning watching them 'start the training process'," Quill replied. "At least … that's what they called it."

Skye watched him, then leaned forward the slightest bit. "So … how bad is it?" she pressed, scooting forward to the edge of her seat.

"Can't say I feel all that good about it, honestly."

That got a deep frown out of Skye. "What's he doing to Logan?" she asked sharply.

"It's more what he's got Logan agreeing to, honestly." Quill admitted.

Skye shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "What's he gotten himself into?"

"I'm not all that sure. Director Coulson said Master Po is a great teacher. Master of all kinds of kung fu wizardry or something. But he said he requires total submission of will… And Logan was totally on board with the whole thing," Quill muttered almost under his breath.

She actually swore under her breath and sighed out all her breath. "Of course he is." She shook her head and then turned Quill's way. "Where are they?"

"The ballroom. Oh wait, sorry. It's a dojo now. Where else would he be?"

She turned on her heel. "Yeah. I'll come back later and tell you about how I fixed this."

"Yeah… I'm sure getting yelled at by the pregnant lady is gonna help," Quill said with a smirk before he had to sigh and admit, "He's not entirely wrong. The stuff he's teaching is sound. It's just… skeevy."

"The methods are sketchy, yeah. I've seen that before," Skye said, shaking her head, before she went to the hallway, already stalking her way down to the ballroom, her jaw set and obviously on a mission.

She didn't knock when she got there, instead just slipping inside, where the little teacher was sitting in a chair and calmly drinking green tea by the window overlooking the pond. "Where's Logan?" she demanded without preamble.

"Somewhere on the grounds," he replied calmly. "Can I help you with something, young lady?"

She looked him over for a long moment. "You can't just take him over. That doesn't work," she said. "I won't let anybody else do that to him ever again."

He watched her anger for a few moments before he addressed her. "And you think that I am some evil wretch bent on abusing your pet?"

She pointed an accusing finger his way. "He's not my pet. He's my husband. And I don't know you except that you're bossing him around. Not exactly a good idea."

"He chooses to listen to me. There is no punishment if he decides to go another route. He asked for my help. That is simply my condition to make sure he pays attention." Po raised the teacup to his lips without dropping his gaze. "It's not a control issue. It's a respect issue."

She glared at him for a few moments longer. "If he disobeys you, will you stop teaching him? He feels like he's stuck in a corner, like he has to do this."

"He disobeys and talks back all the time. I explain my point and try to teach it again. He can't help but mouth off." He looked totally untroubled by her still angry glare. "I am teaching. Not brainwashing. He's had too much of that already. Yes, I read all about it. It's no wonder he's worthless in a fight."

"He's really not," she said, though she had relaxed at the assurance that there would not be any brainwashing. "He's saved my life and everyone else's a hundred times over."

"Ms. Howlett, they took a young man who is, as I understand it, the only person on the planet outside of its creator to know Ogun-ryu and turned him into a mindless attack dog. He is not efficient. At all. He should be able to decimate armies without coming out of it looking like hamburger." Master Po leaned back in his chair again. "I want to fix that for him. Otherwise, it's a waste of a perfectly good warrior."

Skye wasn't sure what to make of this perfectly calm and reasonable man, and at last, she just had to cross her arms and let out a huff. "If you hurt him, I'll know about it. And I'm reasonably sure you don't want to fight me when I'm all..." She gestured at herself.

"Notice my lack of terror," he replied easily. "If you are that concerned, I will extend the same invitation to you that I gave to the man I assume sent you here. Come and watch. But if you do, do not interfere."

"I'll be here," she said, nodding quickly. "It's my job to watch out for him."

"Then how is it that you missed how badly he has slipped?" Master Po asked.

She gave him an angry glare. "Oh, I dunno. Might have been the trying to fix the brainwashing. Or the running from Creed. Or the part where I died. Or any of the other crap we've all been putting up with."

"Yes, pure crap. All that tells me is that he should have called me ages ago," Po replied. He rose to his feet to show her to the door. "Don't worry. He's still got it somewhere in there. Hopefully, it won't take forever for him to remember how to use it."

She nodded and paused in the doorway for just a moment, a new expression on her face. "When he does ... can he kill Creed?"

"He should be able to kill Creed one handed without spilling his coffee," Po assured her. "He just needs to pull his head out of his ass first."

"O-kay then."

"Run along; it's far too hot for civilized people here," Po told her. "We start at dawn."