Unfortunately for Logan, Victor had long-anticipated his brother's arrival and was already lying in wait for him, his features twisted into a cruel and wicked smile. The feral had been watching Logan for weeks now, seeing just who he tended to hang around with - the younger females, naturally, he always had possessed that ridiculous urge to carry on his White Knight routine - and he'd deliberately made his way to the vicinity of Kitty's house, knowing that Logan would turn up sooner or later tonight. It briefly occurred to the older feral that he'd already left his scent inside her house once, and yet Logan hadn't traced him from his earlier presence; he found it strange, yet he couldn't possibly know that the reason for this was the complete loss of Logan's earlier memories. He hadn't recognised Victor's scent because he couldn't recall ever having known it in the first place.
Shifting slightly as he observed Logan approaching, Victor couldn't deny himself a nasty chuckle of excitement; he'd been waiting years for this moment,
( ... )
Logan should've expected it. Should've, but hadn't. There was precious little he had to be afraid of, and as a result, planning ahead wasn't a habit of his. When Victor suddenly slid out of the shadows, Logan stopped, straightening himself to show that he wasn't afraid - and he wasn't backing down.
"Victor." Nat had told him the guy's name, and using it now felt right; letting him know that Logan knew all about him... even if he really didn't. Telling Victor that wasn't an option, though. Even if Logan was not - was never - afraid, he recognized that Victor wasn't just some punk looking for a fight. He was an opponent worth keeping an eye on, and Logan was intent on keeping the upper hand in any way he could.
The 'Jimmy' was ignored, not important; maybe Victor called everyone that. It didn't feel... wrong. Anyway, all that mattered was getting Victor far away from Kitty. And if he resisted... so much the better.
Wasn't the answer obvious? Victor had been searching for Logan for years, ever since his half-brother had somehow managed to escape from the facility at Alkali Lake; why was he asking him now what the hell he was doing? That was the larger feral's first hint that something wasn't quite right, but he did his best to put that down to years of separation and continue nonetheless.
"Maybe I should be askin' you what yer doin' hangin' around young womens' houses at night, huh? Thought that was my speciality?"
He almost had to suppress a giggle of sheer glee, his delight at finally finding his brother again very, very obvious.
That got a low growl. If Victor thought he could do what he'd done to Nat to Kitty - or anyone else, ever again - he was sorely mistaken. Logan'd had enough; of Victor's actions, of this conversation, of everything. "Time to get a new hobby, pal."
He took a step forward at that, slowly, deliberately. Challenging. "You've been messin' with the wrong people. This is where it stops." For now, the claws stayed in, but his fists were clenched and ready. Logan loved this moment, waiting for the fight to begin. He was going to enjoy making this guy pay for what he'd done.
"This is where it stops?" the larger feral snickered. Logan really hadn't changed much, even after all these years. "You gotta be kiddin' me, I only just got here! This is where it's gonna start."
Logan may have been keeping his claws sheathed for the moment, but Victor had no such qualms. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, and he his fingers twitched with the triumph he was finally able to enjoy; holding up his hands, he allowed his claws to unsheathe themselves, ten vicious spikes of Adamantium which he brandished wickedly within Logan's vision.
"Always had t'be the special one, didn't ya? Not any more."
The adamantium nails were duly noted, making a shiver run up Logan's spine - not of fear, but more along the lines of disgust, and discomfort. Just like Nat had said. Victor was a lot more like Logan than Logan liked, making him question his past, the connection he had with this man. He didn't want to ask - couldn't ask - but at Victor's next comment, couldn't avoid it anymore. He was too frustrated, too uncertain; all the things you never showed to an enemy.
"Hell're you talkin' about?" Too insecure; way too insecure. All the glaring in the world couldn't hide it, but Logan tried it anyway. "How do you know me?"
"I - what?" Of all the things Victor had expected when he finally got to meet Logan again, he'd never have expected this. The feral had anticipated anger, fear, sorrow, bloodlust, rage - but this? His mind couldn't even begin to comprehend it. His face registered almost as much confusion as Logan's own. "This ain't no time to finally get a sense o' humor, Jimmy. 'Specially not a bad one."
Logan had to be joking; he just had to be. There was no way his younger brother, his little brother, could possibly have forgotten who Victor was, not after all of the things they'd been through together. They'd fought side-by-side countless times, saved each others' lives; surely, it wasn't physically possible for Logan to not remember who he was.
"Don't call me that!" Now that it was repeated, apparently meaningful, Logan hated the name. Why the hell would anyone call him Jimmy? He wasn't -... It wasn't right. And he was almost ready to kick the shit out of Victor, just to stop him saying it - but if Logan crossed a line, he might not get the information he wanted.
"I asked you a goddamn question," he growled through gritted teeth, claws slowly sliding out. "An' you damn well better gimme some answers." Threatening violence might not be productive, but he had to do something. Not knowing was driving him nuts; needing to hold back, even more so.
Victor felt as though he'd been standing in an elevator which had suddenly dropped about fifteen floors, his stomach roiling and churning with the realisation that maybe, just maybe, Logan was actually telling the truth. What if he didn't remember him, after all? Judging from his brother's mood, he was being deathly serious; Logan always had been the type to confront uncertainty with violence, and that was something which both of the brothers had in common. But now that Victor possibly had the means he needed to finally confront Logan and perhaps even defeat him, it seemed that the will to fight had all but deserted him.
"You gotta be shittin' me," the larger feral rasped, his chest now feeling tight; it felt like an effort to breathe properly all of a sudden. "...I'm yer brother!"
For a moment, Logan too forgot all about fighting. This was more information than he could deal with. Way too much. He had no response for this, an indistinct grunt escaping from his throat when he opened his mouth to try. How easy it would've been, if Victor had been lying. But Logan knew he wasn't; he could smell it, hear it, see it... and every little bit of evidence was a bigger blow than Victor's nails could've ever delivered.
When he finally spoke, he only managed a single word. "Bullshit." It had to be. He wanted it to be. There was no way he had forgotten something so important - because then what else might he have lost?
Victor's voice was suddenly infused with a hostile anger. This couldn't be happening, not to him, not to Logan. He was infuriated with the situation in general, annoyed at himself for having pinned his hopes on this moment for so many years, burying the anguish beneath layers upon layers of fury and frustration; the one person in the world with whom Victor felt any kind of connection, and the ignorant son-of-a-bitch had to get and get all amnesiac on him. It was all he could do not to whimper and cry.
"Who the hell d'you think found those X-Rays, huh? Who else is gonna know what happened to you? Yer bones, yer claws, the fact that you been on the goddamn move since the day we left... I followed you all these years, all this damn time, an' you kept on runnin' away---"
He had to stop, then, for fear that his voice would break.
"I ain't runnin' from anythin'!" It was insulting, and wrong. Obviously Victor didn't know him at all. Obviously -...
Ah, who was he kidding? Logan knew that Victor was telling the truth. It was just a fucking scary thing to acknowledge. He didn't know this guy - what was more, he didn't like him. Ever since joining the BPRD, Logan had been tempted to dig into his past; with the access they had, he would've at least found something. But he'd known he wouldn't like whatever he might find out. He had a new life now, and he'd wanted to focus on that, not ghosts from the past. Hell, he still had half a mind to go back to the safety of what he knew. It was hard enough doing the right thing in this life, taking responsibility for what he remembered. He couldn't deal with this. At the very least, he needed time to process the information. Christ - a brother...
"I don't know you, pal." It was a 'back off' in so many words. Denial, deflecting, keeping people away for their own sake - and his own. It had become a habit, even more so than it
( ... )
He positively spat the words, his body instinctively tensing in reaction to Logan's unspoken challenge, his subconscious mind trained to respond to his brother's subtle physical changes; anger welled up inside the older feral, and he welcomed the prospect of a fight. At least that way he could be rid of some of his frustrations... and besides, hadn't he wanted some kind of confrontation?
"Runnin' form what y'are. Runnin' from what matters. An' now I finally find ya, an' I found out yer as much of a pussy now as y'ever were."
He was goading him, trying to wind Logan up even more, becoming desperate now to lose his sorrow and disappointment in a rush of adrenaline.
There it was again, that tingling sensation running up his spine. It wasn't fear, probably not even caution, but it was definitely the prelude to a fight - a real fight, with a worthy adversary. It was almost tempting, but the knowledge that this was his brother held Logan back a little. Until the insults came.
They were just words; they shouldn't have mattered. But they did. Logan didn't think too highly of himself, but everyone else had no right to judge him, and needed to shut the fuck up. That even his brother hated him made him feel sick, confirming what he knew about himself. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough as a man, and he couldn't let himself be good enough as an animal. He knew that - but that it was so obvious, and so bad, that his own brother would criticize him for it, that was more frustrating than the plain facts could ever be.
"You don't know shit," Logan snarled, his anger rising. To find a long-lost relative, even one he didn't remember, was hard enough to come to terms with, but being outright rejected
( ... )
This was what Victor had wanted. This was what he'd waited for for so long, this was why he'd tracked Logan across so many thousands of miles for so many years, and now it seemed Victor would finally get the fight he'd dreamed of for so long - so why now, when he got what he'd desired, did it fell like such a hollow victory? His brother didn't even remember who he was, that was why; all those years of anger and rage counted for nothing if Logan didn't even remember why his brother was so full of hatred for him in the first place. Not that the older feral was about to let that stop him; no, he'd just have to beat it into him all over again.
He didn't even have to think about it as he adopted his familiar combat stance, the one he'd always used against his brother - because they'd come to blows in the past countless times. At least, if Logan didn't remember him, maybe he wouldn't be able to remember how he fought, either.
That just pissed Logan off further, because Victor was right; as far as Logan was concerned, he did know everything. All the memories Logan had tried for years to regain, before finally giving up; all his history, the history of his family. He still couldn't believe he had a family. Victor presumably knew everything Logan had ever wondered about and more, and Logan was almost jealous.
Logan might not remember Victor's stance, might not consciously remember his fighting technique, but it was clear what was going to happen here, and Logan was as eager for it as Victor was. Wasting no more time, Logan ran towards his brother, claws ready to strike. He'd never forgive himself if he killed his own brother, but he was barely thinking about that now. He needed to take Victor down, to prove a point, to make him pay.
Shifting slightly as he observed Logan approaching, Victor couldn't deny himself a nasty chuckle of excitement; he'd been waiting years for this moment, ( ... )
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"Victor." Nat had told him the guy's name, and using it now felt right; letting him know that Logan knew all about him... even if he really didn't. Telling Victor that wasn't an option, though. Even if Logan was not - was never - afraid, he recognized that Victor wasn't just some punk looking for a fight. He was an opponent worth keeping an eye on, and Logan was intent on keeping the upper hand in any way he could.
The 'Jimmy' was ignored, not important; maybe Victor called everyone that. It didn't feel... wrong. Anyway, all that mattered was getting Victor far away from Kitty. And if he resisted... so much the better.
"What the hell d'you think you're doin' here?"
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Wasn't the answer obvious? Victor had been searching for Logan for years, ever since his half-brother had somehow managed to escape from the facility at Alkali Lake; why was he asking him now what the hell he was doing? That was the larger feral's first hint that something wasn't quite right, but he did his best to put that down to years of separation and continue nonetheless.
"Maybe I should be askin' you what yer doin' hangin' around young womens' houses at night, huh? Thought that was my speciality?"
He almost had to suppress a giggle of sheer glee, his delight at finally finding his brother again very, very obvious.
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He took a step forward at that, slowly, deliberately. Challenging. "You've been messin' with the wrong people. This is where it stops." For now, the claws stayed in, but his fists were clenched and ready. Logan loved this moment, waiting for the fight to begin. He was going to enjoy making this guy pay for what he'd done.
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Logan may have been keeping his claws sheathed for the moment, but Victor had no such qualms. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, and he his fingers twitched with the triumph he was finally able to enjoy; holding up his hands, he allowed his claws to unsheathe themselves, ten vicious spikes of Adamantium which he brandished wickedly within Logan's vision.
"Always had t'be the special one, didn't ya? Not any more."
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"Hell're you talkin' about?" Too insecure; way too insecure. All the glaring in the world couldn't hide it, but Logan tried it anyway. "How do you know me?"
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Logan had to be joking; he just had to be. There was no way his younger brother, his little brother, could possibly have forgotten who Victor was, not after all of the things they'd been through together. They'd fought side-by-side countless times, saved each others' lives; surely, it wasn't physically possible for Logan to not remember who he was.
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"I asked you a goddamn question," he growled through gritted teeth, claws slowly sliding out. "An' you damn well better gimme some answers." Threatening violence might not be productive, but he had to do something. Not knowing was driving him nuts; needing to hold back, even more so.
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"You gotta be shittin' me," the larger feral rasped, his chest now feeling tight; it felt like an effort to breathe properly all of a sudden. "...I'm yer brother!"
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When he finally spoke, he only managed a single word. "Bullshit." It had to be. He wanted it to be. There was no way he had forgotten something so important - because then what else might he have lost?
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Victor's voice was suddenly infused with a hostile anger. This couldn't be happening, not to him, not to Logan. He was infuriated with the situation in general, annoyed at himself for having pinned his hopes on this moment for so many years, burying the anguish beneath layers upon layers of fury and frustration; the one person in the world with whom Victor felt any kind of connection, and the ignorant son-of-a-bitch had to get and get all amnesiac on him. It was all he could do not to whimper and cry.
"Who the hell d'you think found those X-Rays, huh? Who else is gonna know what happened to you? Yer bones, yer claws, the fact that you been on the goddamn move since the day we left... I followed you all these years, all this damn time, an' you kept on runnin' away---"
He had to stop, then, for fear that his voice would break.
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Ah, who was he kidding? Logan knew that Victor was telling the truth. It was just a fucking scary thing to acknowledge. He didn't know this guy - what was more, he didn't like him. Ever since joining the BPRD, Logan had been tempted to dig into his past; with the access they had, he would've at least found something. But he'd known he wouldn't like whatever he might find out. He had a new life now, and he'd wanted to focus on that, not ghosts from the past. Hell, he still had half a mind to go back to the safety of what he knew. It was hard enough doing the right thing in this life, taking responsibility for what he remembered. He couldn't deal with this. At the very least, he needed time to process the information. Christ - a brother...
"I don't know you, pal." It was a 'back off' in so many words. Denial, deflecting, keeping people away for their own sake - and his own. It had become a habit, even more so than it ( ... )
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He positively spat the words, his body instinctively tensing in reaction to Logan's unspoken challenge, his subconscious mind trained to respond to his brother's subtle physical changes; anger welled up inside the older feral, and he welcomed the prospect of a fight. At least that way he could be rid of some of his frustrations... and besides, hadn't he wanted some kind of confrontation?
"Runnin' form what y'are. Runnin' from what matters. An' now I finally find ya, an' I found out yer as much of a pussy now as y'ever were."
He was goading him, trying to wind Logan up even more, becoming desperate now to lose his sorrow and disappointment in a rush of adrenaline.
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They were just words; they shouldn't have mattered. But they did. Logan didn't think too highly of himself, but everyone else had no right to judge him, and needed to shut the fuck up. That even his brother hated him made him feel sick, confirming what he knew about himself. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough as a man, and he couldn't let himself be good enough as an animal. He knew that - but that it was so obvious, and so bad, that his own brother would criticize him for it, that was more frustrating than the plain facts could ever be.
"You don't know shit," Logan snarled, his anger rising. To find a long-lost relative, even one he didn't remember, was hard enough to come to terms with, but being outright rejected ( ... )
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This was what Victor had wanted. This was what he'd waited for for so long, this was why he'd tracked Logan across so many thousands of miles for so many years, and now it seemed Victor would finally get the fight he'd dreamed of for so long - so why now, when he got what he'd desired, did it fell like such a hollow victory? His brother didn't even remember who he was, that was why; all those years of anger and rage counted for nothing if Logan didn't even remember why his brother was so full of hatred for him in the first place. Not that the older feral was about to let that stop him; no, he'd just have to beat it into him all over again.
He didn't even have to think about it as he adopted his familiar combat stance, the one he'd always used against his brother - because they'd come to blows in the past countless times. At least, if Logan didn't remember him, maybe he wouldn't be able to remember how he fought, either.
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Logan might not remember Victor's stance, might not consciously remember his fighting technique, but it was clear what was going to happen here, and Logan was as eager for it as Victor was. Wasting no more time, Logan ran towards his brother, claws ready to strike. He'd never forgive himself if he killed his own brother, but he was barely thinking about that now. He needed to take Victor down, to prove a point, to make him pay.
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