"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 had ever been back when Victor had known him. Logan had to be strong in this, no matter what the cost, or he would fall apart.
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 immediately after pissed him off even more. Who was this guy, to judge him? Who was this guy?!
"See me runnin' now?" Claws already out, Logan drew up his arms a little. If Victor wanted a fight, Logan was more than ready. This had to stop. He wanted it to stop, now.
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.
In a way, it was a long-awaited relief. The decision to fight was no longer within Victor's hands, and the older feral welcomed that rush of anger, that blood-lust, surrendering to his rage and bracing himself for what promised to be one hell of a confrontation. This would be the first time that he'd tested his claws against those of his brother, Adamantium against Adamantium, and much as he was still reeling from the knowledge that his brother had forgotten him, he managed to smile as they clashed - although that smile quickly became a guttural roar as Logan's blades slashed through the tender flesh of his arms.
Logan of course didn't realize that his brother was 'new and improved', and the adamantium nails didn't scare him. What did they tell him, anyway? That Victor presumably had an adamantium skeleton too? So what? At worst, that made them evenly matched - and, with longer claws, Logan had better reach.
That said, he wasn't stupid enough to assume this was a done deal - not in the least. Logan's senses were working overtime, registering, anticipating, reacting. He wasn't holding back much; after all, this guy (Victor, he reminded himself; the least he could do was call his brother by his name) supposedly healed as well as he did. But Logan wasn't going for the kill. Not now, at least; not yet. His focus was on winning, establishing dominance - not taking Victor's head off. Even if Logan wasn't up to dealing with what Victor had told him now, completely erasing what might be the only link to his past was too final a solution.
Even though Victor had not set eyes upon his brother for a decade, it didn't take long for subconscious reactions and hidden instincts to kick in; remembering how Logan fought and actually fighting him were two different things, and although Logan may have dealt the first blow, Victor was quickly compensating and re-adjusting, preparing his counter-attack.
Logan may have been holding back, but Victor had no such qualms. He knew just how much his brother's healing factor could take; he knew that he'd pretty much have to go all-out, even with his Adamantium, in order to defeat him. Not that he intended to kill him, but he had a point to prove, the rivalry festering within his mind, a rivalry which Logan didn't even seem to remember. Howling his rage, Victor fell back only to hurl himself at his brother once more, aiming his claws for his chest.
Sure, Logan could've tried to dodge, but it didn't seem worth it - not for his chest, where everything important lay safely guarded behind ribs every bit as unbreakable as Victor's nails. Let the guy get a hit in; it allowed Logan to get in close, and strike a blow of his own.
Roaring as he threw himself at Victor - and roaring the louder when Victor's blow struck home - Logan thrust his claws up towards Victor's stomach, putting all his weight into it. Since the brothers were pretty evenly matched, this would be a battle of wills as much as one of pure physical strength, and Logan was determined to be the last one standing.
The brief moment of triumph which Victor felt when his nails sliced into Logan's shirt - and his skin, his flesh, his muscle, perhaps even scraping an Adamantium-coated bone - was cut short when his brother's claws tore into his own chest; the older feral snarled, blood bubbling up within his throat to fleck his lips with ugly crimson stains as he hissed at Logan. This wasn't how he'd imagined things to happen. After he'd finally managed to obtain the Adamantium augmentation which he'd craved for so long, he was supposed to be able to beat his brother easily now... wasn't he?
"You sonuvabitch!" he snarled, staggering back to remove himself from the vicious points of his brother's claws; with every word, blood trickled from his lips, and he winced at the long-forgotten pain of such an injury. "I'ma kick yer sorry ass all the way back to Yellowknife---"
And with that, he bit back a yelp of pain and threw himself at Logan again, this time aiming for his midriff, trying to knock him to the floor with a clawed tackle.
Who needs a healthy sense of self-preservation when you have a healing factor? It hurt like hell when Victor's claws tore through Logan's flesh, warm blood soaking his shirt and making it stick to his skin, but it would pass. It always did. And Logan got what he'd gone in for, dark pleasure flashing in his eyes at Victor's reaction. He'd get him yet. He owned him.
His point made for now, Logan let Victor step back, allowing his own injuries to heal. Getting ready to strike again, Victor's words got through to him after a small delay, his brain knowing there was something important about them, while his body wanted to ignore that and just keep fighting. "Yellow-..."
He should've known better than to get distracted. With no time to dodge Victor, Logan did the next best thing: grabbing Victor by the shoulders to catch some of the weight as he fell. Predictably, landing on his back with hundreds of pounds of adamantium-enhanced feral on top of him still hurt like a bitch, but Logan refused to let go, arms shaking with the effort it took to keep that little bit of distance between himself and his brother. "Hell're you... talkin'... 'bout?" At the last word, Logan pushed up for all he was worth, hoping to throw Victor off him - or at least push him up high enough to get a knee in.
Victor snarled when Logan pushed back against him, successfully pushing him off and away, and he hissed as he fell back stumbling, attempting to right himself. Logan may have been the shorter of the two of them, but that didn't make him any less powerful; if anything it only made the man even more dangerous, for all that strength - all that rage - was focused into a much smaller, more concentrated form.
"Yellowknife, you sonuvabitch!" he hissed, trying to buy time with words as he struggled to his feet. The city hadn't even existed when Victor and Logan had been born, but Victor had been there since it had been established, perhaps out of some unknown need to return to the area where he'd grown up. No matter, though; whether Logan knew the city or not, he was more than happy to kick his ass back there. "Canada! You a fuckin' idiot?"
As soon as Victor got off him, Logan jumped to his feet, growling. It was one thing to get on even footing again, another to actually get even. Victor knew everything Logan had even wanted to know about himself and more, and the fact that he wasn't rubbing it in, casually throwing around loose hints instead, only pissed Logan off more. He was getting dangerously close to losing it altogether, curiosity battling with pure rage - but then, why shouldn't it be a tie?
Running out of patience, Logan snarled and threw himself at Victor, punctuating every other word with a vicious slash or stab. "I know it's..." Shoulder, arm. "... fuckin'..." Other arm, stomach. "... Canada!" And with that, Logan had had enough, his final blow intended to go straight through Victor's chest.
With each and every thrust of Logan's claws Victor gave a hideous, guttural snarl, the blades digging through flesh and muscle, tearing at his stomach, puncturing his lungs; he coughed up blood, his lips flecked with ugly stains of crimson, his breath bubbling from between his lips as he attempted to spit out a reply.
"So... where you been... all these years...?"
And then Logan's claws were stabbing through his chest - thankfully missing his heart, although it was a close call, the Adamantium blades skittering across his own metal-coated ribcage -and the older feral choked, staggering back and stumbling. Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen! Even as he half-fell to his knees Victor was growling, one hand going now to reach behind his back, for the blade, the blade that would make Logan fucking pay for doing this.
Now, that felt good. Even knowing that this was - apparently - his brother, it felt damn good to take him down a notch. What right did Victor have, showing up after all this time, turning Logan's life upside down, after decades of letting him wander around, trying to figure everything out on his own? Logan had done fine, of course; that wasn't the point. But not knowing anything about himself had changed him, and probably not for the better. He didn't know what had happened, and who was to blame exactly - Stryker's story had been incomplete at best - but a brother who hadn't been there, who'd let him go blind, alone, was as good a scapegoat as anyone. Logan didn't want Victor dead, even after what the guy had done to his friends. But things between them were not settled yet. Not by a long shot.
Claws buried deep in Victor's chest, Logan growled, enjoying the moment - the first step towards evening the score - before sheathing his claws and letting Victor fall. As far as Logan was concerned, he'd won the fight, and Victor would be an idiot for still trying anything now. "Little late to start givin' a shit." It was one hell of an impossible situation. His brother... Logan half-turned, started pacing. He needed another way to channel his energy - one where the claws stayed in - or Victor might end up as chop suey.
Victor continued to splutter and hiss as Logan walked away, his claws scrabbling for purchase upon the hilt of the blade which had - until now - been hidden within the folds of his heavy coat. Still spluttering and hissing, sickening gurgles issuing from his ruined chest, the larger feral managed to haul himself shakily to his feet; his eyes narrowed and he glared hatefully at Logan, his grip upon the blade tightening, his bloodied hands ruining the elaborate hilt with his brother's blood as well as his own.
"Yer a fuckin' idiot," Victor sneered, taking a step closer and raising the weapon within his hands. "Weren't one o' the first things I ever taught ya to not turn yer back on yer enemy?"
And, roaring, he managed to throw himself at Logan's back despite his injuries, putting all of his strength behind the blow and driving the sword clean through his brother's chest. This was no ordinary sword, however; the Muramasa blade would effectively cancel out Logan's healing factor, meaning the wound would have to be healed as a normal human. It felt like some kind of delicious and poetic justice, stabbing Logan in the back like this - just as Logan had done to him, so many years before.
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 had ever been back when Victor had known him. Logan had to be strong in this, no matter what the cost, or he would fall apart.
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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 immediately after pissed him off even more. Who was this guy, to judge him? Who was this guy?!
"See me runnin' now?" Claws already out, Logan drew up his arms a little. If Victor wanted a fight, Logan was more than ready. This had to stop. He wanted it to stop, now.
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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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That said, he wasn't stupid enough to assume this was a done deal - not in the least. Logan's senses were working overtime, registering, anticipating, reacting. He wasn't holding back much; after all, this guy (Victor, he reminded himself; the least he could do was call his brother by his name) supposedly healed as well as he did. But Logan wasn't going for the kill. Not now, at least; not yet. His focus was on winning, establishing dominance - not taking Victor's head off. Even if Logan wasn't up to dealing with what Victor had told him now, completely erasing what might be the only link to his past was too final a solution.
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Logan may have been holding back, but Victor had no such qualms. He knew just how much his brother's healing factor could take; he knew that he'd pretty much have to go all-out, even with his Adamantium, in order to defeat him. Not that he intended to kill him, but he had a point to prove, the rivalry festering within his mind, a rivalry which Logan didn't even seem to remember. Howling his rage, Victor fell back only to hurl himself at his brother once more, aiming his claws for his chest.
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Roaring as he threw himself at Victor - and roaring the louder when Victor's blow struck home - Logan thrust his claws up towards Victor's stomach, putting all his weight into it. Since the brothers were pretty evenly matched, this would be a battle of wills as much as one of pure physical strength, and Logan was determined to be the last one standing.
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"You sonuvabitch!" he snarled, staggering back to remove himself from the vicious points of his brother's claws; with every word, blood trickled from his lips, and he winced at the long-forgotten pain of such an injury. "I'ma kick yer sorry ass all the way back to Yellowknife---"
And with that, he bit back a yelp of pain and threw himself at Logan again, this time aiming for his midriff, trying to knock him to the floor with a clawed tackle.
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His point made for now, Logan let Victor step back, allowing his own injuries to heal. Getting ready to strike again, Victor's words got through to him after a small delay, his brain knowing there was something important about them, while his body wanted to ignore that and just keep fighting. "Yellow-..."
He should've known better than to get distracted. With no time to dodge Victor, Logan did the next best thing: grabbing Victor by the shoulders to catch some of the weight as he fell. Predictably, landing on his back with hundreds of pounds of adamantium-enhanced feral on top of him still hurt like a bitch, but Logan refused to let go, arms shaking with the effort it took to keep that little bit of distance between himself and his brother. "Hell're you... talkin'... 'bout?" At the last word, Logan pushed up for all he was worth, hoping to throw Victor off him - or at least push him up high enough to get a knee in.
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"Yellowknife, you sonuvabitch!" he hissed, trying to buy time with words as he struggled to his feet. The city hadn't even existed when Victor and Logan had been born, but Victor had been there since it had been established, perhaps out of some unknown need to return to the area where he'd grown up. No matter, though; whether Logan knew the city or not, he was more than happy to kick his ass back there. "Canada! You a fuckin' idiot?"
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Running out of patience, Logan snarled and threw himself at Victor, punctuating every other word with a vicious slash or stab. "I know it's..." Shoulder, arm. "... fuckin'..." Other arm, stomach. "... Canada!" And with that, Logan had had enough, his final blow intended to go straight through Victor's chest.
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"So... where you been... all these years...?"
And then Logan's claws were stabbing through his chest - thankfully missing his heart, although it was a close call, the Adamantium blades skittering across his own metal-coated ribcage -and the older feral choked, staggering back and stumbling. Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen! Even as he half-fell to his knees Victor was growling, one hand going now to reach behind his back, for the blade, the blade that would make Logan fucking pay for doing this.
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Claws buried deep in Victor's chest, Logan growled, enjoying the moment - the first step towards evening the score - before sheathing his claws and letting Victor fall. As far as Logan was concerned, he'd won the fight, and Victor would be an idiot for still trying anything now. "Little late to start givin' a shit." It was one hell of an impossible situation. His brother... Logan half-turned, started pacing. He needed another way to channel his energy - one where the claws stayed in - or Victor might end up as chop suey.
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"Yer a fuckin' idiot," Victor sneered, taking a step closer and raising the weapon within his hands. "Weren't one o' the first things I ever taught ya to not turn yer back on yer enemy?"
And, roaring, he managed to throw himself at Logan's back despite his injuries, putting all of his strength behind the blow and driving the sword clean through his brother's chest. This was no ordinary sword, however; the Muramasa blade would effectively cancel out Logan's healing factor, meaning the wound would have to be healed as a normal human. It felt like some kind of delicious and poetic justice, stabbing Logan in the back like this - just as Logan had done to him, so many years before.
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