"Meeting adjourned." Fury said, and swaggered out like he owned the island—like mutant territory was just another extension of his jurisdiction. Classic Fury. The human generals followed him, all stiff backs and tight jaws.
Captain America lingered just long enough to glare at me over his shoulder. Same tired look—disappointment wrapped in self-righteousness. He left with his protégé in tow, spitting quiet disapproval with every step.
Natasha gave me something different. A glance—not hostile, not warm, just... loaded. Like she wanted to say something but didn't. Then her face shut down like a vault and she turned away.
I leaned back, arms folded, letting the silence settle.
"Sighing makes wrinkles appear." came a sultry voice to my left. "And I wouldn't want that handsome face of yours going bad."
Emma Frost, in all her diamond-sharp glory.
Before I could respond, a gravelly voice cut in. "Frost, don't flirt with the kid. He's already got half the island lookin' at him sideways. No need to make it worse."
"Logan." Emma said with a smile, not even turning to look. "Always a pleasure."
"Name's Wolverine." he muttered, stepping in. He offered me a hand. "Bub, you put on one hell of a show today."
I shook it. "Ranger. And it wasn't a show. Just a statement someone needed to make."
He grinned, jabbing a claw into a beer can and chugging the thing like it owed him money. "Well, it was the right one. Scott's been walking around like a kicked puppy since Jean came back without the memories—and frankly, someone had to knock him off that high horse."
I shrugged. "I wasn't aiming to help him. Just didn't feel like taking an optic blast to the back and smiling about it."
"Still. You rattled the tree. Might shake some fruit loose."
Emma stepped closer, her fingers trailing under my chin, tilting my head just enough to meet her eyes. Ice blue. Dangerous. "While you two discuss your manly heroics, don't forget the most dazzling presence in the room."
Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, Frost."
"Oh hush, Logan." she said, still watching me. "A little charm never killed anyone. Unlike most of the company in this room."
Then to me, quieter: "You've had a rough time. I can offer... a softer perspective. In private, if you like."
I smirked. "Tempting. But considering I just lit a powder keg in front of your entire community, I think the smarter move is to leave while the smoke's still clearing."
I glanced around. "I'm kind of a big deal right now. Famous, infamous—depends on who you ask. Either way, when stars mingle with the crowd, things tend to get... rowdy. You should know that more than me."
Emma chuckled, amused rather than offended. "I do love a man who knows his worth."
She reached into her corset—because of course she did—and pulled out a card, slipping it into my palm with an elegance that felt like seduction by touch alone.
"In case you change your mind." she said, her voice velvet. "Private conversation. No pressure. But I promise you... I'm a very good listener."
With a wink and a turn, she walked off—heels clicking, hips swaying like she knew exactly what kind of storm she left in her wake.
She was a firecracker of a women, no doubt.
Wolverine let out a low whistle. "Damn, kid. Haven't seen her work it that hard since Cap."
I pocketed the card. "Sam?"
"Fuck no. That kid is not even worth her attention. Nor mine." He popped open another beer. "The Cap I went to war with."
Logan cracked open another beer and bellowed across the room, "Oi, Bobby! Ice."
From across the lounge, Iceman barely looked up before flicking his wrist. A sleek arc of icicles shot across the room. Logan snatched them midair like it was second nature, then popped his claws with a familiar snikt. A tap on the ice with his claw and the ice became mist cooling the beer and the table. He threw one my way.
I caught it, raised it in a half-toast. "Thanks. Not racist like the rest of your mutant buddies, huh?"
Logan gave a grunt that was probably a laugh. "I'm worse. But at least I know who I'm aiming at."
I took a sip. The beer was cold. Perfect. Crisp enough to cut through the weight of the day.
Logan drained half his in one gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and pulled another from the dented crate by his boot. "Still, killin' a Security Council rep live on air? You didn't exactly win any hearts here, bub."
"Guy was a mutant-hating murderer hiding behind a polished PR team. He smiled for cameras, signed fake support bills, then funded black ops teams that erased kids like they were glitches."
Logan nodded, slowly. "Sure. But public doesn't know that. To them, you shot a martyr in the face. And Xavier? Magneto? They're playing quiet. Real quiet. Meanwhile, you painted a target on your back. Pyro's already talking about roasting you just for the symbolism."
"Let him try." I said, taking another sip.
Logan chuckled darkly. "Yeah, that's the spirit, bub. Anyway, Chuck sent me to make sure you're looped in for the mission."
"I'll coordinate. But I'm not promising handshakes and group hugs."
"Didn't ask for it. Just don't ghost us when the trigger's pulled."
I nodded once, scanning the nearly empty room. "You all really sure about this war? 'Cause this doesn't look like justice. Looks like a suicide mission wrapped in moral outrage. What's a global war gonna do for mutantkind besides put a bigger bullseye on your backs?"
Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, beer dangling from one hand. "Ask Chuck. I was halfway through a bottle of whiskey when they made the vote."
He looked down at the crate. Only a couple left.
"Truth is." he said. "We're always one headline away from extinction anyway. At least this way, we will either have a voice or die trying."
"And you seem to know a lot for a guy that was busy drinking during meeting." I exhaled through my nose. "Though, That's the most human thing I've heard all day—from the race that claims to be beyond it."
Logan smirked. "Mutants bleed like the rest of 'em. We just heal faster. Sometimes."
He drained the last beer and crushed the can flat in his hand.
"Listen, kid. I loved watching you rattle Scott's cage. God knows he needed it. But here's the thing—you keep blowing up like that, Erik's gonna snap. Fury well he is Fury. He is going to make it a leash on you. Chuck? He'll protect you until he can't. And that line's closer than you think. If you need help with the new Cap just ask. I will handle it."
"I'm in control." I said, eyes on his. "Until someone else isn't. And Sam? I'll handle it."
Logan's gaze held mine for a second too long. Measuring me.
"You sure, bub?"
"Yeah."
He pushed off the wall, stretched his shoulders, and grabbed his leather jacket.
"Well, if the world's gonna burn, might as well do it with cold beer and a front-row seat. And chuck is looking for you."
He paused at the door and turned back, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Oh—and if you're lookin' for a good time before all hell breaks loose? Hit up Emma. I don't say this lightly... but she's a damn experience."
Then he was gone, leaving the room quieter, heavier—and me, still nursing a beer that suddenly felt warmer than it should.
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Comic Accurate Short King. And I didn't make him an asshole just cause of all the Wolverine movies.
It just wouldn't sit right with me. Childhood nostalgia and all that. But Still in comics, He is an asshole unless the writer specially decide to make him sympathetic.
And Emma. She is flirty af cause that's just true to her character.