CHAPTER 128 – BROTHERS OF FANG AND CLAW
The storm spun mad around them, but for Logan and Sasquatch, the world shrank to claws and fists, fang and muscle.
The beast came barreling out of the smoke like a freight train covered in orange fur. Logan met him head-on, claws out, eyes narrowed, a growl rolling low in his chest.
"Come on, furball," Logan muttered around the stump of his cigar. "Let's see who's the real damn animal here."
Sasquatch swung. His fist was the size of Logan's chest, and it caught him square, sending him tumbling across the snow. Logan dug claws into the ice, ripping long trenches until he stopped. He shook his head, spat blood, and grinned.
"Nice right hook." He rolled his shoulders, bones already knitting under torn flesh. "Lemme show ya mine."
He blurred forward, Predator's Senses screaming alive, the world slowing to bullet-time in his mind. Every twitch of muscle in Sasquatch's body lit up like a beacon. Logan weaved under a haymaker, raked claws across the giant's ribs, sparks flying as steel kissed bone.
Sasquatch bellowed, but instead of retreating, he laughed. "YES! Finally, someone who doesn't break like glass!" He scooped Logan up and hurled him skyward.
Logan twisted mid-air, vision zooming with Eagle Eyes—he could see Aurora darting around Nightcrawler a mile out, could smell Banshee's sweat-sharp adrenaline. Then gravity reclaimed him, and Logan landed square on Sasquatch's shoulders.
"Ride's over, bub."
He drove claws down into the beast's collar, metal shrieking as they sank deep. Sasquatch howled and thrashed, but Logan hung on like a tick, teeth bared.
"Get OFF!" The monster slammed himself into a warehouse wall, crushing Logan between fur and concrete. The impact knocked the cigar out of his mouth, but when the dust cleared, Logan was still there, grinning, claws deeper.
"You're tough," Logan rasped. "But I'm TOUGHER."
For a moment, predator met predator. Sasquatch's wild amber eyes locked with Logan's feral blue. In another world, they might've been allies—two beasts fighting beside each other instead of against.
But tonight, in the blizzard's roar, they were brothers of claw, proving who deserved the crown.
Sasquatch panted, chest heaving. "You're… different, Logan. Stronger than I remember. What did you DO to yourself?"
Logan only growled, tightening his grip. "Got tired of bein' the prey."
The fight raged on, claws and fists tearing the night apart, every blow a challenge, every wound a promise of more.
Snow sprayed in waves with every impact. Logan and Sasquatch were locked in a storm within the storm, two predators testing where the other broke.
Sasquatch slammed both fists down, earth shaking under the blow. Logan darted aside, Bullet-Time reflexes slowing the swing to a lazy arc in his mind. He could smell the beast's rising rage, sharp and acrid like burnt copper. He lunged, claws flashing, carving deep furrows across the monster's arm. Blood steamed as it hit the snow.
Sasquatch roared, voice a mountain splitting. "You think you can CUT ME DOWN, LITTLE MAN?"
Logan spat a wad of blood onto the ice. "Ain't thinkin', bub. Just provin' it."
The beast's fist came crashing again. This time Logan didn't dodge. He planted his claws into the ground, anchoring himself, and let the punch connect. Ribs cracked like dry twigs. Pain flared white, but his healing flared brighter. Sasquatch leaned in close, grinning through his fangs.
"You don't stay down. I like that."
Logan's lip curled. "Yeah, well… you're about to like this a helluva lot less."
SNIKT—his claws elongated in a sudden whip, shooting out like silver lances. They stabbed through Sasquatch's side, punching out the other end with a spray of blood and sparks.
The giant staggered, stunned by the reach. Logan snarled, twisting the claws as he dragged himself up the beast's chest like climbing a tree. He buried his head close, voice low and guttural.
"Listen close. I ain't the runt you remember. I've changed. Smell it, don't ya? I ain't prey anymore—I'm the hunter."
Sasquatch gasped, knees buckling. For the first time, the laughter in his voice faded. He shoved Logan back with both hands, sending him skidding across the snow. The wounds in his side closed slow, sluggish compared to Logan's instant stitch. His breath came hard, chest heaving.
"You… damn… animal." His eyes narrowed. "You've become something worse."
Logan rose to his feet, claws dripping, chest still knitting bone. He rolled his shoulders like it was nothing. "Worse?" He smirked, baring fangs. "Nah. Just equalized."
The air shifted. Vindicator's visor gleamed as he caught the scene. His jaw tightened. He saw it plain—Sasquatch, Alpha Flight's hammer, faltering. Logan was grinning bloody in the snow. If it kept like this, momentum would snowball, and his team would fall.
Vindicator raised his hand, armor pulsing. "ALPHA FLIGHT—PULL BACK!"
"What?" Aurora shouted mid-dash. "We have them on the run!"
"No," Hudson barked, voice sharp as the wind. "We've underestimated him. FALL BACK. NOW!"
One by one, the Canadians disengaged—Snowbird wheeling skyward, Aurora dragging Northstar with her, Shaman vanishing into smoke, Sasquatch lumbering back with a glare at Logan that promised more.
Logan stood in the snow, chest rising slow, cigar gone but the grin still carved deep on his face. His claws slid back with a metallic sigh.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Cyclops strode to his side, visor steaming faint red in the cold. His voice was low, edged with suspicion. "Logan… what the hell did they want with you? TWICE now."
For once, Logan didn't smirk. He looked at the retreating shadows of Alpha Flight, and something heavy flickered behind his eyes.
"Hudson ain't some stranger," he muttered. "Once… I was his. Government leash, Canadian agent. But I cut loose."
Cyclops frowned. "Why?"
Logan's gaze drifted to the snow, his voice rasping like gravel.
"Because I ain't a weapon, Summers. I'm a free man."