Scott raced through the hotel door, the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins from the optic blast he had unleashed on Logan just moments ago. He wasted no time grabbing his bag from the corner of the room, throwing open drawers and hastily stuffing his clothes and belongings inside. His mind worked even faster than his hands, running through his options, his plans, and the inevitability of what would come next.
The blast he'd hit Logan with might have bought him a few minutes, but it wasn't enough. It never was with Logan. Scott knew that. He could almost hear Logan's gravelly voice in the back of his mind, taunting him with the knowledge that nothing Scott did would keep him down for long. No blast, no matter how powerful, could stop him for good.
He zipped up the bag in one sharp motion, slinging it over his shoulder just as the door creaked open. Scott turned quickly, his heart hammering in his chest, ready to react—but it wasn't Logan.
It was Amelia.
"Scott," she said, stepping into the room, her eyes filled with concern. "We need to talk."
"I don't have time for this," Scott said quickly, brushing past her, his focus entirely on leaving. He moved toward the door, but Amelia blocked his path, her hand outstretched.
"You can't keep running," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "This path you're on, it's only going to lead you into more danger. You know that, don't you?"
Scott's jaw tightened. "I'm aware of the risks. I've accepted them."
"That's not the point," Amelia pressed, stepping closer, her voice rising with frustration. "You're just one person, Scott! You're out here, alone, fighting battles you shouldn't be fighting by yourself. This isn't how it's supposed to be."
Scott's eyes narrowed, impatience coursing through him. Every second they spent talking was a second closer to Logan catching up. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but I don't have time for this," he said, sidestepping her. "I've got to go."
Amelia's expression hardened as she stepped in front of him again. "No, Scott. You're not listening. You're exhausted, you're barely holding it together. This can't keep going like this. You need help."
"I'm fine," Scott shot back, his tone sharp. "And I'm not coming back to the mansion."
"Why not?" Amelia demanded. "Because you don't want to be tied down? Because you think going it alone makes you stronger? It doesn't, Scott. You're putting yourself in danger for no reason."
Scott clenched his fists, trying to keep his frustration in check. "I'm putting myself in danger because it's necessary. I don't need to be coddled. I don't need to be told what path to take. I know what I'm doing."
Amelia shook her head, her eyes filled with exasperation. "You think you're doing the right thing, but you're not seeing the bigger picture. This path you're on—it's going to get you killed. You can't beat everyone, Scott. You can't do this forever."
"I'm prepared for that," Scott said quietly, his voice firm. "If that's what it comes to, I'm ready."
Amelia's face softened, but her voice carried an edge of desperation. "But you shouldn't have to be. There are people who care about you, Scott. People who don't want to see you throw your life away because you think you need to take on the world by yourself."
"I don't have a choice," Scott replied, his voice tight. He stepped forward again, brushing past her once more, his impatience growing. "I need to leave."
"You're making a mistake," Amelia called after him, but Scott didn't look back. He couldn't. There was no time.
The moment he stepped out of the hotel, Scott felt the weight of the situation settle over him. He walked quickly, his eyes scanning the street ahead. He needed to get out of the city—find somewhere remote, somewhere Logan couldn't pin him down. But as he rounded the corner, his heart sank.
There, at the far end of the street, stood Logan.
The two locked eyes across the distance, neither moving. Scott could feel the tension crackling in the air between them, the inevitable clash lingering just on the horizon. His hands tightened on the strap of his bag, his mind racing through the possible outcomes of what would happen next.
But Logan didn't move to attack. Not yet.
Instead, he simply stood there, watching Scott with that same determined look that always seemed to say, You're not going anywhere.
Scott swallowed the urge to scowl. He knew this wasn't the time for rash action. Not yet. They weren't in the right place, not here in the middle of the city. Too many people. Too much collateral damage. Logan knew it, and so did Scott.
Without a word, Scott began to walk down the street, keeping his eyes on Logan, and Logan did the same. They moved in tandem, on opposite sides of the street, both aware of the other's presence, both waiting for the right moment.
The right moment to strike.
As Scott walked, his mind churned with frustration. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had planned for more time, more distance, but Logan had recovered far quicker than he had anticipated. And he knew, deep down, that his brief conversation with Amelia had given Logan the time he needed to catch up.
Scott cursed under his breath. He knew now there was no escape. All of his careful planning, all of his strategies—they were meaningless unless he could beat Logan. He had to confront him. There was no other way.
His thoughts drifted back to the memories he had of Cyclops and Logan—the countless fights, the battles they had faced together and against one another. He tried to recall every detail, every technique Cyclops had used against him, but the answer was always the same.
Logan was better.
He was faster, stronger, more skilled. The memories were clear on that. And Scott could feel the instincts within him rising, telling him to let Cyclops take over, to let those memories guide him in the fight that was about to happen.
But no. Scott shoved those thoughts down. He had relied on Cyclops' memories for too long. He had lost himself to those instincts before, and he wasn't going to let it happen again. He would forge his own path, find his own way to victory—even if he didn't have the answers yet.
As they neared the edge of the city, Logan crossed the street, stepping directly into Scott's path. The sun was setting behind him, casting a long shadow over the cracked pavement. For a moment, they simply stood there, sizing each other up.
Logan tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're not gonna get me with that same trick again, kid."
Scott's jaw clenched. "I know. But I'm still going to beat you."
Logan's smirk widened. "We'll see about that."
Without another word, Scott dropped his bag to the ground, his eyes narrowing as he prepared himself. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, the tension building in the air. Logan cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as his claws slowly extended from his knuckles, the metallic sound of them sliding into place echoing in the quiet evening air.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They simply stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground, and Scott could feel the weight of the impending fight pressing down on him.
This was it. There was no running anymore. No escaping.
He had to face Logan. And he had to win.
Scott's mind raced through every scenario, every possibility. He knew Logan was skilled, far more experienced than he was. Cyclops' memories had proven that time and time again. But Scott wasn't Cyclops. He was himself, and he had his own path to forge. He wouldn't rely on the fractured memories of someone else to win this fight.
He would find his own way.
Scott's eyes glowed red, the energy building within him as he prepared to unleash a blast. He could feel the power surging through him, the heat building behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
Logan's claws glinted in the fading light, his muscles coiled and ready for action.
Then, in a single instant, they both moved.
Scott fired a quick blast from his eyes, aiming for Logan's chest. Logan dodged to the side with impressive speed, lunging forward with his claws outstretched. Scott pivoted, firing another blast, but Logan was already too close. He swung his claws, and Scott barely managed to duck out of the way, feeling the wind from the strike brush past his face.
Logan pressed the attack, slashing at Scott with brutal precision. Scott fired off another series of blasts, forcing Logan to backpedal, but the mutant was relentless. He recovered quickly, lunging again with his claws.
Scott gritted his teeth, dodging left and right, but he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Logan was faster, stronger, and more experienced. Scott's only advantage was his ability to keep Logan at a distance, but even that was slipping away as Logan closed the gap again.
Scott knew he had to find a way to turn the tide of the fight. He couldn't rely on just his optic blasts—Logan was too agile, too skilled at closing the distance. He had to think, had to outmaneuver him.
With a sudden burst of energy, Scott fired a blast at the ground in front of Logan, creating a cloud of dust and debris. Logan skidded to a stop, momentarily blinded by the smoke. Scott used the distraction to reposition, firing another blast that slammed into Logan's side, sending him sprawling to the ground.
But Logan was already back on his feet, his healing factor kicking in, and the fight continued.