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Piotr hadn't expected to run into an X-Man here of all places. Logan with his wild hair and broody demeanor had accompanied Professor Xavier during his visit to Piotr's family farm years ago. Logan had stood silent while Xavier tried to recruit Piotr with promises of mutant's coexistence with humans in the future. Back then, Piotr had stared at the two strangers in their strange clothes and thought they looked like they belonged to another world.
He had turned them down because he enjoyed spending time with his parents and siblings. He wasn't going to leave this life for a foreign nation where Xavier would only teach him how to control his powers, train him to be stronger, and just idle around. He might as well idle around in his village instead.
A couple of years later, the tragedy struck and Illyana vanished.
Piotr had dialed Xavier's number, and only met disappointment. Professor Xavier admitted he couldn't sense a non-mutant with his mind. Still, Xavier had tried to invite him again. Piotr had politely declined and found another way, which ended up bringing him to Silver Sable and her Wild Pack.
His hope was rekindled with the mysterious Dante's promise.
Now the broody mutant from all those years ago stood before him as if to crush that hope.
'How did Professor allow Comrade Logan to become a weapon under the Hand?'
The question gnawed at him, but there was no time to dwell on it. Logan's feral eyes locked onto Piotr. Whatever control the Hand had over him had stripped away everything human, leaving only a beast with instincts to kill or be killed.
"Hold fast, Little Logan. I'll bring you back to your senses."
He would bring Logan to his senses, even if it meant beating the man to a pulp with his steel fists.
"Come.'
"Graaah!" Logan charged at him with a growl that belonged more to a wolf than a man. His adamantium claws sliced inches deep into Piotr's ribs. It was only discomfort, not pain. His metal form could take far worse.
"Take mine, Comrade!" Piotr slammed his fist into Logan's face. The blow sent the feral mutant flying backward in a perfect arc before crashing into the concrete twenty feet away.
Logan rose unsteadily, stumbling as his brain rattled inside an adamantium skull. The bones were unharmed, but the soft tissue had absorbed the impact of Piotr's devastating fist.
"Adamantium skeleton and claws…" Piotr commented, recalling how Xavier had introduced Logan and his powers. "You truly are a beast, Logan."
It should have been tragic. It was tragic. Yet Piotr felt the corners of his mouth curl up. For the first time in years, he let the grin stay.
"I can finally go see how strong I am."
He had spent years pulling his punches. He had done it because SHIELD watched and his own heart rejected a violent life. Because he didn't want Silver Sable to get into trouble with SHIELD because of him.
He had never truly tested the limits of what this metal form of his could do.
But tonight he was fighting Logan. Logan, the unkillable. Logan, the unbreakable. Logan, the rabid animal in human form. A mutant who could take every ounce of force Piotr could pour into his blows and still drag himself back to his feet.
Tonight, Piotr Rasputin could finally fight without fear.
Logan came at him again like a wolf pounce, leading the charge with claws. Piotr stepped sideways at the last second and redirected Logan's momentum into a throw. Logan's body became a projectile, slamming into a concrete bunker so hard the reinforced wall spiderwebbed and nearly gave way. Chunks of stone rained down on his fallen body,, burying him.
"Ah, I chickened out," Piotr muttered, almost disappointed in himself.
The throw had been clean and efficient, a textbook application of the martial arts he had picked up for his new life as a mercenary. The movements were so ingrained they had become muscle memory. The pacifist in him always went for the redirect, the control, and the less-lethal option. Even Logan, of all people, had fallen victim to those habits.
Logan did not stay buried for long. The rubble shifted, and he was back on his feet. His torn muscles underneath the tattered white vest knitted together by his healing factor. His eyes never softened. If anything, the pain only made him angier and more berserk.
Logan shot forward again. Piotr met him halfway with a rising knee that sank into Logan's stomach. Air left Logan's lungs in a violent grunt. Before Logan could recover, Piotr clasped both hands together and brought them down like a hammer on Logan's back.
The impact drove Logan into the ground, the concrete cracking under him.
For a few moments, Logan lay there on the shattered pavement, chest heaving, face pressed into the dust. He looked almost unconscious as if he had paused out.
Then, without warning, he exploded upward from the ground, going from prone to pounce in a second. It was like watching a spring uncoil.
Adamantium claws punched into Piotr's chest and scraped along the inner layers of his armor. The force tackled the giant back. They crashed together, Piotr thudding onto his back as Logan straddled his torso. The claws went to work instantly and hacked at Piotr's metal skin with wild, frantic slashes. Tiny fragments of organic steel flew around.
"Ugh… Comrade, I might be metal, but I still feel pain."
He wrapped his massive hands around Logan's wrists and hurled him aside like a ragdoll. Logan tumbled across the concrete, rolled, and skidded to a stop right at Amy's boots.
"Grah…"
"Would you look at this catch?" Amy didn't hesitate in driving both swords at Logan. The blades stabbed through Logan's eyes with a wet, sick sound.
"RAAAARGH!" A broken, guttural roar that was nothing but pain and fury left Logan's throat.
Amy twisted the blades and yanked them, ready to stab his throat. But Logan covered his face with his hands, whimpering like a wounded animal.
"Ngh… rrrah…"
The sight was like a helpless animal being abused, except this animal could massacre a whole city under the Hand's control.
"Comrade Amy! Don't kill him. He is not an enemy!"
Piotr was unable to believe Amy had intervened in his battle. She even tried to kill Logan.
Amy shot him a sharp look but listened, pulling her swords back. Then she did the smart thing and ran before Logan recovered. She wasn't stupid enough to stand in the open with a feral mutant when a walking tank like Piotr was right there.
"Piotr, he wouldn't die from this."
Piotr watched as Logan sat up slowly. Blood ran down his cheeks in thick lines, making it look like he was crying blood. The shredded flesh of his eye sockets already writhed and crawled as the healing factor worked. His eyes healed back right before Piotr's eyes.
"Comrade Logan…"
"Grrrr… RAAH!" Logan's only answer was a bestial snarl. He charged again, faster and more furious than before. Piotr braced himself and met the charge head-on. They collided with the sound of a thunderclap like an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force. For a heartbeat, neither gave ground to the other. Then Piotr's superior strength began to push Logan backward inch by inch.
Logan shifted tactics instantly, going low and slashing at Piotr's legs. "Haaagh!"
Piotr groaned in pain but stood firm to smash his fist in Logan's face again. Blow after blow followed, echoing like small explosions, as if shockwaves were being generated just from the sheer pressure of their strength.
"Comrade, taste my fist and come back!"
"Graaaa!"
Logan took the hit on his face and rolled to the ground. Only then his bestial mind registered that fighting head-on was impossible. So he used his speed to run around Piotr and managed to slash the back of his knees.
"Kh…!" Piotr's legs buckled. The giant crashed down to one knee, then onto both.
Logan slammed his knees in Piotr's chest to drive him into the ground. His claws stabbed directly down at Piotr's eyes as if taking revenge for what Amy had done to him.
Piotr caught both wrists, holding those deadly claws inches from his eyes. They stayed locked like that, neither able to gain the advantage. Piotr's strength versus Logan's savage tenacity. Steel versus adamantium.
A berserk David versus a calm, empathic Goliath.
"I'm sorry, mutant friend," Piotr whispered. "No one should be used like a weapon."
He headbutted Logan with every bit of his strength. Logan's head snapped back, and Piotr used the opening to throw him off. Before Logan could recover, Piotr grabbed a chunk of broken concrete and hurled it.
Logan's claws flashed, shredding through the concrete, but the debris obscured his vision for a crucial second. Piotr closed the distance and delivered an uppercut that lifted Logan completely off his feet.
"Rrgh…!"
The feral mutant flew backward, crashed through a chain-link fence, and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Piotr stood there with squared shoulders. His entire body was covered with scratches and gouges. It would take hours for his organic steel to knit fully back together.
***
Gwen Stacy and Amy Chen watched from a nearby bunker. Dust and debris fell with each thunderous impact of their battle, and the night air reeked of blood and metal.
"This is never going to end," Gwen whispered, feeling both awe and terror. "He heals everything, and the metal man just… doesn't break."
Amy gripped her swords tighter. "How is this even allowed?"
Gwen didn't have a good answer. In the short, messy life she had as Ghost Spider, she had seen gang wars, a death god disguised as a mercenary, and horrifying black alien monsters who possessed people's bodies. But watching two mutants like this was something else entirely.
And still, neither Piotr nor Logan gave her that suffocating, absolute certainty of death that Dante had.
Piotr was strong, maybe the strongest person she had ever seen. Logan was relentless and berserk, with a body that never wanted to die.
But Dante was different. His presence oozed a simple, terrifying truth: "I can end you, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Yet, with all this power, he kept trying to do the right thing in his own way. He had no real reason to get involved with any of this. He could've stayed in his comfortable life and pretended the world's problems weren't his. Instead, he had decided to stop Norman and later reveal his powers to save Felicia.
'We're both forced by circumstances.'
Gwen had been given these powers and, at first, all she had done with them was swing across the city for the thrill of it, losing herself in the wind and the height and the freedom.
Putting on the suit had been about her indulgence, not about helping anyone. It had taken hearing her father's defeated voice on the phone to finally push her into action.
Dante, on the other hand, had been forced by his relationship with Silvija and Felicia.
Perhaps that was why she related to him on some level and chose to come here, despite finding his methods disagreeable.
Beside her, Amy was lost in her thoughts. "I was ready to die, you know…"
When she had seen the mutant tear through her comrades, she had made up her mind. Trading her life to keep the mutant from killing others to pay back for everything Silvija gave her.
She didn't even get scratched. The gentle giant, the man who always went above and beyond to help others, turned out to be a powerful mutant. He fought the mutant, even holding an upper hand.
"We should help," Gwen said. "But I can't think of a way. You got something?"
"Nope, nothing. Let them fight."
"Then I'll take care of the trash," Gwen replied, her gaze shifting to the armed Hand operatives who were using the chaos to reposition and target Wild Pack soldiers. "It was nice talking to you. Take care of yourself."
Amy held Gwen's arm. "Take me along. My swords are thirsty."
"No killing." Gwen was firm in her request. "I'm only going to incapacitate them."
"I'll decapacitate them." Amy smiled like a devil. "You give them temporary relief. I'll give them permanent relief."
"No!"
"If we don't kill them today, they'll return tomorrow. Law means nothing to these people, hero girl."
Gwen's first instinct was to argue with justice, trials, and second chances. She wanted to believe in a system that could handle this. However, she had seen the NYPD turn a blind eye to gunfire on this island. Not just once. Twice.
Still, she shook her head. "Even if they're rotten, I can't do what they're doing."
Gwen brushed Amy's hand and ran gracefully out of the bunker before swinging away, as if she was running away from something.
Amy watched her disappear into the night, then blew out a slow breath. She wasn't scared of the Hand operatives. Cutting them down would be almost relaxing.
What she feared was walking back to Commander Sablinova empty-handed after all her loud promises about taking down Logan.
***
The limo's interior wrapped Emma Frost in nice and cozy warmth.
She hummed along to a classic tune from her teen years while wearing a luxurious white fur coat spilled over a sleek silver dress. Entirely impractical but absolutely perfect by her fashion sense.
Whether it was a business meeting or the war zone in Oscorp Island, if she was going to walk somewhere important, she would do it looking like a goddess.
Beside her, Psylocke sat with both hands on the wheel. Even now, in the dead of winter, the woman wore her signature purple bodysuit—a leotard-like bodysuit that left her arms and legs bare. Emma had never understood Psylocke's obsession with this style. It had gone to the point Psylocke's entire wardrobe was three pairs of bodysuits and spare boots.
The refusal to dress for the weather was like her way of self-discipline.
"Psy," Emma said, breaking the comfortable silence with a light, teasing tone like she was addressing a younger sister. "Are you pissed I disturbed your beauty sleep?"
Psylocke's expression didn't change. She didn't even glance over. "It's the first time I'm going to do my job as your bodyguard."
Psylocke had been at her side ever since Emma had found her bleeding out in a Tokyo alley, nearly killed by the Hand's assassins. She had offered Psylocke sanctuary and a new life free from the Hand. In return, Psylocke had sworn herself to Emma's service.
But Emma Frost had never needed protecting. Her telepathy made her untouchable. She could rewrite minds, shatter wills, and turn people into drooling vegetables with but a thought. Bodyguards were a show of power, not a necessity.
Except for that man. Even hundreds of her wouldn't be enough for him.
Emma's smile widened. "What a brilliant mindset. If only that rude man had this level of maturity."
"You say that while smiling," Psylocke replied in a calm voice. "Is it so fun being a hypocrite?"
Emma let out a soft laugh. "I do admit I like stubborn men who don't grovel to me. Men with stability and a spine."
It was true. Most men either threw themselves at her feet, desperate for her approval, or tried to dominate her, threatened by her power. Both types bored her to tears. Contrarily, Dante had looked her in the eye and still treated her as an equal. He had threatened her life, tested her loyalty, and walked away without apology.
She knew he wasn't acting despite not being able to read his mind.
Psylocke's lips curled into a tiny smile. "You speak as if you've been with many men. Yet I've never seen you with a single one."
"I did have one boyfriend," she said quietly. "But it never progressed past the kissing stage."
"Quite unexpected…" Psylocke said in a gentle tone. "I thought you would have a hundred-plus lovers, each tailored for a specific fetish."
Emma shook her head. "Dear, I wish I had that much free time."
She leaned her elbow against the window, resting her chin on her knuckles. The bridge's pillars blurred past, but her mind was lost in old memories. Christian's funeral, her arrogant and manipulative father's disapproval, and the boyfriend who died for borrowing money from people he couldn't afford to offend.
Dante's words came back to her: You've never understood what it means to truly trust someone.
And he was right. Without Telepathy, she would have long fallen to someone's sweet words and opened her heart. What had brought her so far was also her crutch.
She had come so far yet she still couldn't trust someone. Not when she could read every thought and how they judged her. Every person had dark thoughts, and she was aware of each and everyone.
Despite being aware of the truth, she couldn't stop reading minds; it had become a habit at this point.
The only person exception to this was Psylocke.
"What about you, ninja lady?" Emma asked, shifting the topic to distract the heavy thoughts. "How many men did you seduce for spy missions?"
"None. I was sent to execute."
Just a few words, but the weight behind them was immense.
Emma opened her mouth to offer some comfort. "Maybe you will find—"
SCREECH.
The limo lurched violently as Psylocke slammed the brakes. Emma's shoulder collided with the door despite the seatbelt's restraint.
"What the—that's the Hand?"
Ahead, at the bridge's entrance, a black sedan drove to a stop perpendicular to the road, blocking both lanes. Its windows suddenly opened, and a figure leaned out—a man dressed head to toe in black tactical gear, face obscured by a mask. And hoisted on his shoulder, angled directly at their limo, was an RPG launcher.
Emma's mind went blank. Then instinct took over. Her telepathy lashed out to blast the man's mind.
But she was just a moment late in preventing the trigger.
The launcher flared, and a trail of white smoke erupted from the muzzle. The missile left the tube and the heat-seeking warhead adjusted mid-flight, locking right onto the limo.
Emma Frost saw death staring at her, and this time, it wasn't in the form of a handsome man, but a heat-seeking missile.
***
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