The bar was it’s usual noisy environment; albeit a little more so, since people were in a more cheerful mood as compared to the usual weekend crowd – and to think, it wasn’t a weekend... then again, it was the 24th of December. So far, there have been almost two fights, but in the spirit of the season, it seemed that the instigators were more merry and the aggrieved party more forgiving. Guess there’s something to be said about Christmas, that people – even those that don’t practice it, were willing to be a bit more tolerant. Either that, or maybe it was simply because he was here. After all, he’s been involved with quite a few rumbles in this place himself – more than enough to make the proprietor look worried every time he steps in for a drink.
Most times he just keeps to himself in his usual corner, and people who are likewise regulars either leave him alone, or decide to pay for their drinks and decide to leave, thinking to transfer elsewhere – anywhere, so long as he wasn’t there. If he were more sensitive, he’d probably feel sorry for them… maybe even a bit insulted – but he’s too much a realist to realize that these people are just reacting to experience – either directly felt or as explained by others. After all, it’s good practice to think that wherever Logan goes, trouble seems to follow just around the corner.
Others more courageous would nod… one or two even gave him a Christmas greeting, of which he returned with a simple nod – but they all gave him a wide berth. Truth to tell, he welcomed the peace of being alone tonight. Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, whatever you’d like to call it… these holidays just make him realize how alone he is. Though technically, that wasn’t true… running a school would make sure there were a lot of people who would be willing to talk, even drink a few rounds with him – and he had a lot of friends and team mates. Both X-men and Avengers – but there would be times when he’d just want to be alone… like tonight, and reflect on… hell, he wasn’t really the reflecting kind. So he kills off a cigar, his second in this place… and is ready to take a sip on his fourth bottle of beer when he smells something.
He mumbles… just enough to make the person know ‘he knows’ “Not your usual hangout, Slim… guess that means you’re here for me. Are we gonna have trouble?” He then gives the new arrival an intense stare.
“Hello Logan.” Scott Summers… a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-men since time long past, but of late – terrorist, renegade, and murderer of the X-men’s founding father, Charles Xavier. Though even Cyclops’ story about being influenced by the Phoenix may seem stretched, on a good or bad day, depending on who’s viewpoint, Logan grudgingly admits that the story may have some merit. Once a team mate, and one of the people Logan has opted to follow in many missions, this man and he are now in polar opposites – and not because of Charles… not even because they both loved the same woman at one time… no. Their main difference can be summed up with the fact that Scott is willing to sacrifice children for his vision of making Mutants ready for a world that hates them, while he would rather try and shield them from all the ugliness. Not that he’s naïve to think they will live in an utopia, but more like him wanting to help them preserve their childhood… their teenage life – to try and make them have a semblance of normalcy while growing up. Something he never had, and therefore one thing he would like ot make sure his students will enjoy.
“No we’re not… unless you start it.” He gesture the couch opposite where Logan is sitting. “Mind if I sit?” The man is in his version of an undercover attire – which for X-men would be simple street clothes… in Scott’s case, shirt, jacket, jeans, sneakers, and a cap… oh yeah, and red tinted shades. Time was, the last item would have stood out in the past… nowadays though, anyone can wear any shape and colored shades and people will just give a cursory glance. So yeah… few people in the bar would hardly recognize the much “Wanted” mutant terrorist in their midst. Others, Logan notices, are strting to pay their bill… getting ready to leave. ‘Good… ‘ he thinks.
“Still a free country, last I checked… but you’ve got ten seconds to give me a good reason why I don’t sick Alex on you.” He notices Scott wince a bit at the mention of his brother’s name – good. It was an intentional dig… a reminder of which side they both stand. Still, Scot takes it in stride, and just places his hand on the table’s middle, places a small disk, no larger than a quarter on it, then retracts his arm.
A small light turns on and forms into a familiar face. Katheryn Pryde, recently resigned co-head of his school… and now a faculty in Scott’s school. It’s his turn to wince a bit… though he knows such was not Scott’s intent. After all, Kitty, as her friends call her, left Logan and company because she felt she wasn’t accorded the trust she expected from her friends and companions. The act of leaving stung Logan… and seeing this projection of her, reminds him of his failure.
“Logan, Scott’s there because I forced him to make the effort. You don’t have to be a mind reader to know he’s not happy with what I’ve asked him to do. Chances are, had he not owed me a favor, he wouldn’t do this… period. But he did, and my way of collecting is that he take the effort to meet you in a neutral ground.” Logan looks back at Scott at this, and all he gets is a blank, expressionless stare back. The man can be a good poker player if he wants to. The message continues… “It so happens, Logan, that you too, owe me several favors, and I aim to collect one.” The projection’s image stares intently at him, making him think that this was not just a recording, but a live feed.
“I want you to sit with Scott – you don’t have to like each other, but don’t kill each other. He’s there on an act of truce on my behalf – if my friendship still means anything despite recent events, I want you to respect that truce and just sit… maybe talk and listen for the next hour. That’s it. After which, you two can just leave. I don’t expect you two to resolve your issues with each other – you’re both too stubborn to do that… but at least try to communicate some of your issues to each other - I know you think you've got nothing to say to each other... I'm betting differently. Your hour starts now gentlemen. Have fun.” And the image fades as Kitty winks at them both.
Logan looks across the table… this is, after all, the last man he would like to spend an hour with, and there are so many words he would like to say to this man’s face. Instead, he mumbles “I’d rather fight Sabertooth, than talk to you.” This elicits a slight smirk from the man across the table. “I’d rather tackle a Sentinel… but Kitty’s got us good, and you know it.” Pause… silence, as both become aware to a few patrons belting out an impromptu Christmas tune… apparently it’s 12 midnight… Christmas.
Soon everyone’s joining the singing… everyone, except two people sharing a table with an invisible chasm much larger than the table. Looking at each other… reminiscing about shared experiences – good and bad. The singing dies down, and Scott looks at his watch… “57 minutes more.”
Logan looks back at him, “Yeah… I’ve been starin at the wall clock.” as he thinks, why there are no villains when you need ‘em.
Instead he gives a big exhale. “So…”
“So…” replies Scott.
-end-
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