The wind on the hill was gentle, whispering through the tall grass as Amelia stood at its crest, overlooking the scene of the earlier fight. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow across the landscape. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from exertion, but from anticipation. She knew Logan was on his way.
And sure enough, the unmistakable silhouette of Wolverine appeared in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched and purposeful stride cutting through the field like a blade. Amelia tensed, knowing exactly what he was planning. He was going to confront Scott, forcefully if needed. Logan had been clear about that since the beginning, and she had known for a while that this moment was coming.
Still, she couldn't let it happen.
As Logan approached, she stepped forward to intercept him. "Logan," she called, her voice calm but firm.
He stopped a few paces from her, his sharp eyes narrowing. "What're you doing here, Voght?" His tone was gruff, impatient. He didn't like to be stopped, especially when he had a clear goal in mind.
"I can't let you do this," Amelia said, taking a step closer to him. "Scott's been through enough already. Let me talk to him."
Logan snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've had your chances. Plenty of 'em. And look where that's gotten us. The kid's still out there, doing whatever the hell he wants. Now, we do this my way."
Amelia's jaw clenched, frustration bubbling up inside her. She had hoped that Logan would see reason, that he'd understand that pushing Scott further would only drive him away. "I don't want this to escalate. He needs time, Logan. You barging in with your fists isn't going to help."
Logan's lips curled into a smirk. "And what's your way gonna do, huh? Talk him into coming home? That's cute, Voght, but it ain't happening. You're in my way."
Amelia's fists tightened at her sides. "Logan, please—"
"Or what?" he interrupted, stepping forward, his presence suddenly more menacing. "You gonna fight me?"
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a split second, her powers flared to life. Her body began to shift, her solid form becoming semi-translucent, mist swirling around her arms. The instinct to protect Scott surged in her, and for that brief moment, she felt the urge to stand her ground. To fight Logan if it meant keeping Scott safe.
But just as quickly, she pulled back. The mist receded, and she solidified once more.
Logan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Knew it," he muttered. "You ain't got the nerve. You care about the kid, but you'll never do what needs to be done. You never have. You never will."
The sting of his words cut deep, but Amelia didn't respond. She watched as Logan brushed past her, continuing on his path toward Scott. Her legs felt rooted to the ground, torn between stopping him and letting him go.
As she stood there, alone on the hill, Amelia's mind raced. Why had she reacted that way? She was a pacifist, someone who used her powers only to help, never to harm. Yet in that moment, she had been willing to use them to protect Scott from Logan—not that Logan would hurt him, not fatally anyway, but still, she'd been ready to fight. That wasn't like her.
Was this Scott's influence? Was she changing because of him? Or was it something else—something deeper inside her, something she hadn't acknowledged until now? The thought that she might one day use her powers to fight scared her. But the thought that she might not, that she might stand by while someone she cared about was hurt, terrified her even more.
Amelia shook her head, her gaze following Logan as he disappeared over the ridge. She had to figure this out—before it was too late.
-X-
Scott stood alone in the aftermath of the battle, surveying the destruction around him. His body ached from the fight, the muscles in his arms and legs tense from exertion, and a dull throb pulsed in his arm where Rhino had nearly caught him. He rolled his shoulder, trying to shake off the discomfort, but it lingered, a constant reminder of how close he had come to real injury.
The field before him was littered with debris—broken concrete, twisted metal, and scattered stones. Deep gouges marred the earth where Rhino's heavy feet had dug into the ground, and the remnants of the building lay in ruins, torn apart by the brute force of Blockbuster, Tombstone, and Rhino combined.
Scott's mind raced as he analyzed the fight. There had been moments of precision—his optic blasts hitting their mark, the way he had manipulated the battlefield to turn his enemies against each other. But there had also been missteps. Times when he could have moved faster, thought quicker, and avoided injury. He needed to be better, stronger. His control was improving, but not fast enough.
Tombstone and Rhino had been enhanced—stronger than they had been in Cyclops' memories. Rhino had once been a New York-based threat, a juggernaut that terrorized the city. But now? He was not only out of New York but more powerful, faster, and with more endurance. And Scott knew why. His actions at Oscorp had sent ripples through the world, shifting things, altering the course of events.
Scott clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. What he did to save Warren had consequences, ones he hadn't fully anticipated. Rhino was just the beginning, the clearest example of how things were changing. And then there was Tombstone, who had been different as well, more coordinated, more calculated. Sinister's hand was all over this.
Sinister.
The name echoed in his mind, a constant, gnawing presence that had been creeping closer ever since the encounter at Oscorp. Cyclops' memories of Sinister were scattered, filled with gaps, but they painted a clear enough picture. Sinister had always been a calculating figure, a manipulator pulling strings from the shadows. He was obsessed with genetic evolution, with creating a future where he controlled the next stage of Mutantkind's evolution.
But this? Sinister was moving earlier, faster, and far more aggressively than he had in Cyclops' memories. It wasn't just the creation of the Marauders or the recruitment of mutants like Rhino and Tombstone. It was how quickly he was empowering them, altering them to be more dangerous than ever before. In the memories Scott had, Sinister hadn't acted like this until much later.
He was accelerating his plans.
And that thought chilled Scott to his core. If Sinister was this active already, it meant he was preparing for something—something even bigger than before. Something Scott couldn't predict based on the fractured memories of Cyclops.
What had I done?
Scott's actions at Oscorp had been necessary—saving Warren, stopping the experiments—but he couldn't ignore the consequences. By exposing Sinister's operations, by openly defying him, Scott had inadvertently pushed him to escalate his plans. Rhino, who once confined his terror to New York in the early days, was now a threat that reached beyond the city. And that was just the beginning.
Scott began to understand that Sinister wasn't just retaliating. He was adapting. He was evolving his tactics, responding to Scott's moves with a dangerous speed and precision. The appearance of Rhino, Tombstone, and Prism had been a wake-up call. This world was changing faster than Scott had anticipated, and his actions were driving those changes.
For the first time, Scott felt the full weight of Amelia's warnings—her words about the consequences of his actions. He'd always been willing to accept the risks, to take on the burden of responsibility, but now he was beginning to realize just how far those consequences might reach. It wasn't just about him or the people he was trying to save. His every move was setting off a chain reaction, altering the course of events in ways he couldn't predict.
Worst of all, Sinister was becoming more proactive. If he was making moves this early, what other threats were looming on the horizon? How many more mutants would be caught in his web?
Scott's mind raced, trying to piece together a strategy, a way to stay ahead of Sinister's plans. He had to be ready. He had to be better than Cyclops had ever been. Because in this world, Sinister wasn't just one step ahead—he was miles ahead.
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar presence. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. "Logan," he muttered.
Logan chuckled, his voice rough. "Kid. You look like hell."
Scott didn't respond, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "What do you want?"
Logan walked up beside him, his eyes scanning the same scene Scott was looking at. "You know why I'm here. You're coming back."
Scott didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering. "No, I'm not."
Logan sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Figured you'd say that." He turned to face Scott more directly. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but I told Chuck I'd try. I'd use words, try to reason with you."
Scott finally turned his head, meeting Logan's eyes with a hard stare. "And how's that working out for you?"
Logan smirked. "Just about as well as I thought. You're too damn stubborn for your own good."
Scott's eyes narrowed. "Don't push me, Logan. I'm not in the mood."
Logan's expression shifted, his easygoing demeanor replaced by something more serious, more dangerous. "I knew words wouldn't work on you, but out of respect for Charles, I tried. Now we do it my way."
Scott's heart pounded in his chest, a swirl of emotions rising within him. The fractured memories of Cyclops were surfacing again—anger, resentment, admiration, and something more. Something Scott didn't want to acknowledge. He forced it down, clenching his fists.
"I'm warning you," Scott said, his voice low, a warning edge to it. "Don't."
But Logan didn't listen. He took a step forward, reaching out to grab Scott by the shoulder.
The moment his hand made contact, Scott's eyes flared red.
Without hesitation, Scott unleashed a powerful, sustained optic blast, the energy exploding from his eyes and slamming into Logan with enough force to knock him off his feet. Logan was sent flying backward, crashing into the ground as the blast dragged him down the hill, carving a deep trench into the earth. Dirt and debris scattered in all directions as the red beam tore through the field, the force of it unrelenting.
When Scott finally cut off the blast, Logan was lying at the bottom of the hill, his body still for a moment before he slowly began to stir.
Scott's chest heaved with the effort, his muscles tense and his mind racing. He didn't wait for Logan to get back up. There was no point in staying any longer. Hank was with his family, and he'd made it clear he was going to see Xavier. There was nothing left for Scott here.
Turning on his heel, Scott began to walk away, his mind already focused on the next move. He couldn't stay in one place for too long. Not when Sinister was still out there, watching, waiting.
He needed to keep moving.
-X-
Back on the hill, Amelia remained, watching the aftermath of the encounter unfold. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field. Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—worry for Scott, fear of what was coming, and a gnawing uncertainty about her own role in all of this. Logan had gone after Scott. She had let him. And now, as the wind whispered through the grass, she couldn't help but wonder what her place would be in the battles to come.
She clenched her fists, her thoughts returning to Scott.
Would he ever let her in? Or would he continue down this path alone?
Only time would tell.