So, every one of Logan's strikes was smoothly deflected, only occasionally meeting a hard block. And every block or deflection was followed by a counterattack. And every time, it turned out to be quite nasty, or rather, devious.
A feint toward the face just to cover a low kick to the knee? Obviously! A jab into a nerve cluster to deaden the arm? Naturally! A kick under the diaphragm to cut off his breath? As it turned out, I love it, I know it, I practice it.
My fighting style was becoming very, very dirty, and I couldn't do a thing about it.
But there was one teeny-tiny problem with all this. Winning against Wolverine in this match was still unrealistic.
All these punches and kicks were less than mosquito bites to his regeneration; it was like throwing peas against a wall.
I wasn't even sure if choking him out would have any effect.
Maybe hitting him hard enough to cause a concussion would knock him out instantly, though even that likely wouldn't last more than ten seconds.
Of course, there was always the magic option, but that would be completely unsportsmanlike.
Alright, I learned what I wanted to know. I'll practice a few more moves on the increasingly feral "dummy," and then wrap this up.
"Listen, is this your actual tactic?" after a few minutes of this "fight," I sensed even the audience was starting to get tired, so I decided to finish it. "Just tanking hits until your opponent gets too fucking bored?"
"Go to hell!" Logan replied, picking himself up off the floor once again and spitting blood. He must have bitten his tongue.
"Nah, I'm actually exhausted, but I don't want to get punched in the face."
A snap of my fingers.
Suddenly, we appeared to be in the center of a "hologram."
The "me" in the illusion missed a block, and the Wolverine, who had just gotten up, intercepted the strike and threw his opponent.
As soon as the illusory me tried to rise, Logan punched him in the gut, and immediately after, slammed a fist into the spine of his doubled-over foe, literally driving him into the ring floor.
"Yeah, that turned out pretty brutal."
Physics tested and approved. Now for the next section: optical illusions combined with mental suggestion, just to ensure the audience overlooks certain nuances.
"What the hell is this?" the mutant tensed up.
"Just an illusion." I shrugged, a half-smile tugging at my lips out of reflex. "I wanted to warm up against a suitable opponent. Goal achieved. Continuing to 'settle things with fists' against a regenerator would be just plain stupid. I'm in no rush, obviously, but I wouldn't mind grabbing a bite to eat… preferably tonight, not a week from now when one of us finally collapses from exhaustion."
My right eye winked slyly at my opponent of its own accord. The real Loki's muscle memory clearly wasn't limited to just his arms and legs.
"Gotcha," Logan grunted. His gaze shifted, the beast within clearly ready to pounce but held in check.
"Wasn't exactly a puzzle. When a bruise on your opponent's cheekbone vanishes in under a second..." I watched with interest as the mirage-Wolverine delivered a heartfelt kick to the kidneys of my double, "...it's hard not to realize something's fishy. Especially when you know a few tricks yourself."
"Right. So what happens now?" The wariness hadn't left him.
"Nothing. 'I' get knocked out, you get your prize, I 'recover' a bit later, grab my coat from the girl, and go find a table. I heard the steak here isn't bad... And I hope that comment about the ring wasn't a joke."
"Is that it?" His paranoia was starting to get annoying.
"What else is there?"
"No, nothing."
"Excellent. Alright then, let's take our places." The ref had just finished counting over the knocked-out "contender" and was announcing the winner, lamenting that while the rookie had a great run, the old veteran proved once again he wasn't ready for the scrap heap.
….
Having finished the show for the audience, just as promised, I left the cage and quickly spotted Rogue in the crowd.
She was staring at me even more wide-eyed than she had at Logan. No wonder, I'd let her see the reality layered over the illusion.
Even without hearing my chat with Wolverine, she had plenty of reasons to be freaking out.
"Not tired?" I asked, flashing a fresh, charming smile as I plucked my coat from her hands.
"Uh… No. Not at all," the girl stammered, shaking her head, her eyes glued to my face.
"Wonderful." With a single motion, the coat was back on my shoulders. I gifted Rogue one last smile and headed for the bar, causing everyone around us to lose sight of me after just a few steps.
Human minds yielded to magical suggestion with surprising ease. But even though I'd mentioned wanting to eat, my experiments weren't finished yet.
I needed to gather intel on this reality. The easiest way was skimming the memories of the locals, and I planned to get on that immediately.
This trick had nothing to do with classical telepathy, aside from the fact that it involved reading memory. The principles were completely different.
In any case, I needed to start with something simple.
As for Logan and Rogue… nothing was going to happen to them in a couple of hours. They'd have time to digest what they saw.
….
The Next Morning.
The town didn't impress me. No library, no cinema. Even the stores felt like… gas stations. Sometimes literally.
True, I did find french fries in one of them, which I was now happily devouring as I walked through the fresh snow toward the hotel doors.
If things were truly terrible, this universe would be painted in noir tones, but I didn't feel like Professor Snape surrounded by Potters and Weasleys just yet, so life was bearable.
My magical inquiries had ended successfully. Even skimming someone else's memory didn't break my mental block or turn me into a psychopath with a third personality.
In general, viewing other people's memories via magic felt very different from perceiving Loki's memories in my own head. Maybe that's why he couldn't do anything about my arrival.