Captain America stepped in first, his figure tall and composed in his star-spangled uniform. His shield was absent—left at security—but his commanding presence remained. Falcon, clad in his standard tactical gear with the folded EXO-7 wings resting at his back, followed closely.

Denti’s gaze immediately lifted.

"Captain Rogers," he said, his voice flat. His tone was calm, but the bitterness was unmistakable.

"Sergeant Wilson."

There was no warmth in the greeting.

Steve Rogers inclined his head respectfully, motioning for Sam to stand beside him.

"You’re familiar with the Falcon, Denti?" Steve asked, keeping his voice measured.

Denti adjusted his glasses with slow precision.

"I am, Captain."

His lips curled slightly—not quite a smile.

"Air Force Sergeant. Social worker. Harlem’s so-called protector."

His tone was dripping with condescension.

"I know of him. I’m an investigator, after all."

Sam Wilson didn’t flinch. He folded his arms, staring Denti down. His calm was practiced.

"FBI."

"One of Quantico’s best in criminal psychology, if the reports are true," Steve added, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "May I sit, Agent Denti?"

Denti gave a curt wave of his hand.

"Sure, Captain. Sergeant Wilson," he added, his tone begrudging.

Steve and Sam took their seats opposite Denti. The room grew even quieter. The hum of the air filtration system was the only sound.

"I take it you’re recovering." Steve gestured vaguely toward the wheelchair.

Denti leaned back, his fingers tapping the armrests.

"From the burns, yes."

He paused. His expression hardened.

"But your Texas mutant friend has confined me to a wheelchair for the rest of my life."

The words dropped like lead in the room.

Steve Rogers lowered his head briefly.

"I’m sorry, Denti."

"It’s not your fault, Captain."

Denti’s voice grew cold, sharper now.

"It just appalls me that you would work with a freak like him—"

His gaze flicked between Steve and Sam.

"—or those so-called X-Men."

Falcon leaned forward slightly, voice calm but firm.

"Mr. Denti, please. We’re here to protect as many lives as we can—human and mutant alike."

Denti’s blue eyes gleamed with something darker. He took off his glasses slowly, folding them with a snap before placing them on the table.

"Mutants aren’t humans, Sergeant."

Sam’s expression didn’t change, but a muscle tightened in his jaw.

"With all due respect," Denti continued, "they’re not even people. They shouldn’t be granted citizenship as such."

"Why not?" Steve’s voice cut through the room.

Denti leaned forward now, hands clasped on the table, his knuckles whitening.

"Because they completely disregard our laws, our foundations. Our very nature."

His voice rose slightly.

"They spit in the face of the American people. They make a mockery of everything this nation was built on. They have powers—abilities—beyond human comprehension. And with that power, they believe they’re above our rules."

The room fell still.

Steve Rogers watched him carefully, his hands folded in front of him.

"Tell me, Mr. Denti," Steve said quietly, "why do you hate mutants so much? Help me understand. Me and the Sergeant—we want to help you."

Denti’s face twisted, something cold flashing in his eyes.

"I don’t want your help."

The words dripped with venom.

"You both helped that dirty cowboy freak humiliate me. I lost my legs. I lost my honor."

Sam Wilson leaned in, voice low.

"Mr. Denti, what we did was stop your rampage in Houston. You murdered innocent people—human and mutants alike."

His gaze was unwavering.

"You used to be a federal agent. You must understand the importance of accountability."

Silence.

For a long moment, Denti said nothing. Then, slowly, he removed his glasses again. His blue eyes—no longer shielded—looked distant, almost haunted.

"I didn’t want that to happen."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

Steve Rogers narrowed his eyes.

"You got carried away by hate."

"No." Denti shook his head slowly. "I was trying to protect people."

"That wasn’t protection." Sam’s voice was firmer now. "That was slaughter."

Denti’s hand clenched into a fist on the table. He took a long, deep breath.

"It was a mistake."

The words sounded bitter—like swallowing broken glass.

"An honest, sad mistake. I overstepped my pursuit of justice..."

Steve Rogers sat back slowly.

"What do you mean, justice for what?"

Denti exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were cold.

"Fred Duncan."

The name lingered in the room.

"Fred Duncan was an honest cop. An FBI agent through and through. My mentor."

Steve exchanged a brief glance with Sam. They knew the name. Fred Duncan—one of the first federal agents assigned to mutant affairs during the late 20th century. A man who believed that mutants and humans could coexist. Or at least that was what they read.

"He was the head of the mutant crimes division." Denti continued.

"We investigated the Brotherhood. The Hellfire Club. Every mutant group that posed a threat to humanity."

His fingers drummed against the table. His eyes darkened.

"We were on the hunt for her."

"Who?" Steve asked, though he had a guess.

"Raven Darkholme. Mystique."

The name echoed in the sterile room.

"She’s been a plague on humanity since before the United States even had police forces." Denti's voice was filled with venom now. "She came from Europe to terrorize our people."

Steve Rogers leaned forward.

"Mystique’s killed a lot of people. But not all mutants are like her. You know that."

Denti ignored him. His voice dropped to a cold, haunted whisper.

"Back then, she was working with Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto."

A sharp pause.

"Fred and I were assigned to bring her in. We struck a deal with Sebastian Shaw and the Hellfire Club. They gave us intel on a warehouse where Mystique and her Brotherhood were hiding."

Sam Wilson frowned.

"Wait, Shaw sold her out?"

"Shaw never plays fair. But we were desperate." Denti clenched his fists. His voice grew harsher.

"Fred insisted we lead the operation ourselves. Said it was our duty. So we went."

He took a deep breath.

"It was an ambush."

The room grew colder.

"The moment we walked through the door, they attacked. The Blob. Pyro. Mystique herself."

His jaw tightened.

"Fred didn’t stand a chance. They tore him apart. Right in front of me."

Steve Rogers remained silent, listening intently.

"I was the only survivor." Denti whispered.

"They let me live. As a message. To the FBI. To humanity."

Sam Wilson looked at him with a mixture of pity and understanding.

"And after that, you vowed to kill them all."

Denti didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to his lap, to the motionless legs that The Alamo had left him with.

When he looked up, there was a fire in his eyes—cold, dangerous.

He leaned forward.

"Not all."

Denti’s voice shattered the silence, defensive and sharp.

"Not all mutants, Captain."

His gaze shifted between them, sharp and unwavering.

"Just the criminal ones."

He leaned forward, pressing his palms against the table as though daring them to challenge him.

"I gave the others the benefit of the doubt. I did. But it became clear they’re all in cahoots. Emma Frost manipulated the Bureau into dropping investigations into her crimes, and it cost me my job. And the X-Men? They’re chummy with her. Didn't bat an eye. Just like they accepted a Brotherhood's own. You tell me, Captain—does that sound like justice?"

The accusation hung in the air.

Sam Wilson narrowed his eyes but kept his voice low, steady.

"So you started killing."

Denti’s jaw tightened.

"I didn’t want to kill."

His words came fast, almost defensive.

"But what can a man do when these… things destroy everything they touch?"

His voice cracked with the last word. His eyes flicked downward—to his paralyzed leg

Steve Rogers sat forward, folding his gloved hands on the table. His voice remained even, but the steel in his tone was unmistakable.

"You were attacked because you endangered innocent lives. You threatened a civilian, shot at others, and endangered his co-workers."

Denti’s head snapped up, his blue eyes flashing with rage behind the glasses.

"I had a long career in law enforcement, Captain!"

His voice echoed off the walls.

"And it ended because I was trying to do my job, but mutants didn't want to face accountability for their actions."

He then rested his hands over his legs, the same which the Alamo made sure he was unable to use.

"Then to add insult to injury, I was humiliated by a boy with too much power-"

Steve Rogers sat forward, folding his gloved hands on the table. His voice remained even, but the steel in his tone was unmistakable.

"You tried to kill him, Denti. You are very aware of that, he wasn't the only that was endangered that day. You could've harmed people."

Denti’s head snapped up, his blue eyes flashing with rage behind the glasses.

"No Captain, that’s what mutants do, Captain. They don’t protect. They don’t serve. They take. They destroy. And no one stops them."

The words were like venom, and for a moment, Steve Rogers said nothing. His blue eyes remained fixed on Denti, unreadable.

"We stop them, Denti."

Steve’s voice was quiet but carried the weight of conviction.

"When they cross the line, we stop them. And when humans cross the line, we stop them too."

Denti let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"You don’t get it, Captain."

He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. No one—no one—should have that kind of power."

Steve exchanged a glance with Sam.

The room seemed to tighten, the weight of Denti’s words settling between them.

Then, Steve Rogers leaned forward again, his voice dropping into a softer, but firmer tone.

"I’m sorry, Denti. But this is not the right way to defend humanity. Who gave you the authority to kill people?"

Carl Denti, restrained but unbroken, met Steve's gaze with chilling calm.

"Captain, you must really reevaluate your question."

Steve Rogers tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes narrowing.

"Is that so?"

Denti’s lips twisted into a thin smile.

"That is so."

His gaze flicked toward Sam Wilson before returning to Steve.

"You’re both military men. I take it you’ve killed before?"

The room froze.

Sam Wilson leaned back, eyes narrowing.

"I was in the Air Force—rescue missions. I never killed."

Steve Rogers remained still. His voice dropped a fraction—quiet, burdened.

"I did."

The admission carried a heaviness that seemed to press down on the room.

"More times than I ever wanted."

Denti’s smile faded into something graver. He leaned forward again, his fingers tapping the cold steel table.

"Then listen to me, Rogers."

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"In the wars you fought—in Germany, Italy, France, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq—every deployment you had, Captain."

Denti’s voice grew quieter, more deliberate.

"I take it you killed bad men? Rapists, war criminals, murderers…"

Steve Rogers nodded slowly, his face hardening.

"Yes."

"But consider this."

Denti’s voice dropped—almost a whisper now.

"Not the terrorists. Not the murderers or the rapists. Not the SS, not HYDRA. Not the monsters who deserved it. But the young enlisted—the conscripts in the Wehrmacht. The scared 18-year-old with no love for Hitler, no hatred for America. The boy who wanted to survive."

The words hit hard, resonating in the stillness.

"Did they deserve to die?"

A long pause.

Steve Rogers closed his eyes. The ghosts of the past flickered behind his mind’s eye. Faces blurred by time—enemy soldiers, too young for war.

"No."

The word came, soft but sure.

"Then why did they die, Captain?"

Denti leaned forward, his voice pressing.

"Why?"

Steve Rogers opened his eyes. They were tired but resolute.

"Because it was a war."

The room seemed to shift at those words.

"We fought to secure freedom, democracy, and justice—to protect people from tyranny."

Denti’s lips curled into a grim smile.

"Exactly."

He pointed at Steve.

"And this, Captain, is a war."

He looked down at his paralyzed legs, then back up. His voice dripped with certainty.

"It's ugly, and it hurts innocent people. But our goals are the same: freedom, democracy, and justice for mankind. For people who will be crushed by mutants—just as I was."

Steve Rogers stood.

His fists clenched at his sides.

"These are innocent people, Denti. Not every mutant is an enemy."

"And not every dead soldier deserved to die, but they did."

Denti shot back without missing a beat.

"Because wars aren’t clean. I’m not proud of every mutant I’ve killed, Captain. But I know I do this for humanity’s defense. If people like me don’t do it… humanity falls."

Sam Wilson, silent for long minutes, finally spoke. His voice was cold, cutting through the rising tension.

"What about the X-Men?"

He stepped forward.

"Are they looking to destroy us too? Humans?"

Denti scoffed.

"Do you think they’re innocent?"

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with conviction.

"How many people has James Howlett killed? How many has Scott Summers led into battle? How many more have to die before we realize mutants can’t be roaming free?"

He looked directly at Steve Rogers.

"Look at Jean Grey. Look at that kid, Duncan Nenni—the one who crippled me. You know what they’re capable of. You remember what Rogue did to Colonel Danvers. How many lives is too many? How many more before you admit I’m right?"

Steve’s expression darkened.

"Denti, we understand your fears. But you’ve crossed a line. You’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it."

"I know."

Denti’s voice softened—but it was the most chilling tone yet.

"But hard decisions have to be made. Wars aren’t won by the soft-hearted. They’re won by those willing to do what’s necessary."

"Jesus" Sam muttered, shaking his head.

Steve Rogers stepped forward, resting his hands on the metal table. His shadow loomed over Denti.

"You talk about hard decisions like you’re the only one who’s made them. But I’ve seen what happens when men think the ends justify the means."

Denti looked up, calm but unrelenting.

"Captain, you don’t believe a word of what you just said. If you did, you’d be a pacifist. But you’re not."

His voice dropped into something cold and final.

"Because you know the eggs we have to crack to make the omelet."

Steve Rogers straightened, his blue eyes hard as steel.

"Don’t patronize me, Denti."

Denti smiled grimly. "Captain, I know. And I can relate."

Steve exhaled heavily, his hands pressing into the table. "There’s still time to do the right thing, Denti."

Denti shook his head slowly, his expression resolute. "This is the right thing."

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the exchange palpable as the conversation lingered unresolved.

Falcon interjected, breaking the heavy silence with a voice that cut through the tension like a blade.

"Do you really believe this is the right thing, Denti?" Sam asked, leaning forward, his tone sharp but measured. "What about the Carraro employees who got hurt by those who claimed to defend humanity?"

Denti raised an eyebrow, his expression briefly flickering with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Thomas Thompson," Sam said firmly. "The guards the Leper Queen killed in Houston. Those were humans—men who served. Were they not?"

The name hit Denti like a punch to the gut. His posture stiffened, and his composure cracked. "Damnit!" he growled, slamming a restrained fist on the table. "I thought the X-Men killed Thompson. That bitch! Those were good people! Thompson was a good man, he didn’t deserve to die!"

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Steve before continuing. "But more will die if we don’t stop Creed and Trask."

Denti leaned back, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the weight of the realization. "Shit," he muttered, running a hand over his face. For the first time in the conversation, his confidence faltered, replaced by something resembling regret.

"Think about it, Denti," Sam pressed. "This is more than human versus mutant. It’s about safeguarding the lives of both humans and mutants. This war you’re fighting—it’s not as black and white as you think."

Denti stared at the table, his jaw tight, the cracks in his resolve growing larger by the second. "Alright," he said finally, his voice rough. "What would you have me do, huh?"

Steve leaned in, his expression softening but his tone firm. "We need you to tell us what you know about Trask’s operations so we can bring him to justice. No more hiding behind your rhetoric. No more excuses."

Denti’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, defiance flashing briefly before being tempered by weariness. "I can’t say, Rogers. We—Unless... Well, there's one thing"

"And that is?"

"Plea bargain. They will send me away, I just want to have time to rest, not die in prison. I'm too old for this."

Steve looked to Sam trying to find an answer.

"Give us a moment."

Steve and Sam got up from the chair and leaned against the wall.

"I know the X-Men are here" Denti said from the table. "Don't talk to them, decide it here..."

"But I thought you wanted to spend less time in jail..." Falcon said, his tone was bitting and confident, questioning Denti's prior motivation.

"I don't want my fate to be decided by mutants, not again."

Steve nodded and looked back at Sam.

"Sam, what do you think."

"I hate to say it, Cap. But this is the best we have, he has a lot of information, if Jennifer is able to bring this to court it will be enough to put Trask behind bars."

"This is making life easier, even after his crimes" Steve rubbed his chin, his shoulder pressed against the wall, his voice low as a whisper.

"Or maybe he goes to trial, Trask pays the judge and the jury and he doesn't pay for his crimes at all. Or worse, he dies, can't be protected and we lose his testimony."

"I'm not sure."

"Cap, the more we know, the harder we can make for these people to hunt down mutants in the future, think of systemic change this case could bring."

"The X-Men trusted me to not betray the justice they seek."

"If Denti dies like Thompson what justice will there be?"

"God..." Steve closed his eyes briefly and inhaled deeply. "I hope we are doing the right thing, Sam."

"He will face justice, Cap. We'll make sure of that."

With that they came back to the table.

Denti let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. "So is that reached a decision?" he said, his voice tired. "You want me to testify, no?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, there will be a plea bargain, only if you testify"

For a moment, Denti was silent, his gaze dropping to the table. When he spoke, his voice was softer, almost resigned. "Well, I will. There’s no more fight in me, Captain. I’m defeated. Look at me. My legs are gone, my face is scarred. I’ll let other people fight now… I’ve earned my retirement."

Steve leaned forward again, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning. "If you testify against Trask, you’d be helping to shift this entire conflict toward justice—real justice. Not vengeance. Not hate."

For a long moment, Denti was silent, his jaw working as he stared at the table. His hands, restrained by cuffs, clenched and unclenched in rhythm, betraying the storm of thoughts raging behind his eyes. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his decision.

"Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll bite."

Steve nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. "That’s the right call, Denti."

Sam straightened, his arms crossed, watching as Denti’s gaze flickered between them. "You’re doing the right thing," he added.

Denti snorted softly, his smirk returning, though it lacked its earlier edge. "We’ll see about that."

As the room settled into silence once more, the sense of resolution hung precariously, fragile but present. This wasn’t the end, but it was a step forward. A crack in the armor of a man who had spent years fighting a war he was no longer certain he could win.

And for Steve and Sam, it was the hope they needed to keep pushing forward in their fight for justice.

Carl Denti’s gaze flickered with something between resignation and determination as he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. "What you want to know?"

Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson exchanged a brief glance before Steve spoke up, his voice steady and authoritative. "Trask. What is Trask’s relationship to Carraro?"

Denti let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair. "Okay. Trask bought the Carraro company five years ago, in 2020. The idea was to create a legal front for Friends of Humanity operations, launder the money brought in by Trask International. On paper, it looked perfect—a tech company hiring a security firm. Nothing unusual about that, right?"

"But that wasn’t what was happening, was it?" Steve asked, his voice calm but unrelenting.

Denti hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Yes and no," he admitted. "There were a few Carraro guys who worked in Trask’s labs, but not most. The majority of them were kept in the dark. Just good ol’ security staff with no idea what they were really guarding."

"Creed took over as CEO after Trask bought the company—or, more accurately, after Creed bought the company. Trask was funding it, but Creed was the face. He ran the day-to-day operations, made sure the money kept flowing, and kept everyone in line."

"Trask owned Carraro" Steve pressed.

"In a way..."

"What about you?"

"I trained the troops and was head of operations," Denti replied, his voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "I gave the green light on shipments. Did some black ops to retrieve stolen company property."

"Like those Mexican cartel members rumored to be killed by Carraro on the border?" Steve asked, his voice low and sharp.

Denti’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes. "I’ll keep my Fifth Amendment rights at hand, Captain," he said finally, his voice tinged with defiance.

Sam leaned in, his expression intense. "What about the government? Was there any involvement with the government, connections with the Military, DARPA?"

Denti hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "I’m not sure about DARPA, but," he admitted. "We talked with General Ross once, but he was more talkative with Creed than with me. Maybe Trask had something with him."

"Damn," Sam muttered under his breath.

Steve’s jaw tightened. "This is a significant development," he said, his voice grave.

Denti shrugged. "It’s natural, Captain. A lot of people are scared of mutants. Some mutants are stronger than the Hulk. With Ross’s experience, the government would certainly enlist his efforts to keep humanity safe. You think SHIELD doesn’t have its own secret files on mutants?"

"What about the Leper Queen?" Steve asked, his tone sharp.

"I don’t know who this bitch is," Denti said, his voice dripping with disdain, "but from what you said, she killed a bunch of good men. She’s the leader of the Sapien League, yeah? What they want or how they operate... I don’t know. But…" He paused, leaning forward slightly, his voice lowering. "Trask threatened to replace the Friends of Humanity with them. Said they were more efficient, more dedicated. But I’m telling you, Captain, the Sapien League couldn’t last a week against what the FoH built."

"So Trask wasn’t loyal to the FoH?" Sam asked, incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Like the FoH isn’t loyal to Trask," Denti shot back, his tone bitter.

Sam frowned. "But Carraro—"

"Means to an end, Sergeant Wilson," Denti interrupted. "We both want humanity safe. That’s what it always comes back to. For all of Trask’s posturing, that’s what he claims to want."

Steve Rogers exhaled heavily, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him like a physical burden. He exchanged a glance with Sam Wilson, whose expression mirrored his own weariness. Carl Denti, seated across the table, shifted slightly in his chair, his damaged frame a stark reminder of the cost of the path he’d chosen.

"We’ll talk to the Leper Queen then," Steve said, his voice steady despite the tension in the room.

Denti raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. "She’s here?"

"Yes," Steve replied.

Denti’s lips curled into a grim smirk. "I hope she rots here. Does it well for her."

Sam tilted his head, curiosity creeping into his tone. "How so?"

Denti leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest. "I would never have killed Thompson," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "We could’ve just gotten him and his family out of the country, away from the prying eyes of the X-Fucks. But she killed him… in cold blood." His voice hardened with anger at the end, his fists clenching.

Steve leaned forward slightly. "Well, she won’t do any more killing," he said, his tone firm.

Denti snorted softly, shaking his head. "I’m sure people like her find a way," he muttered.

"Ahem," Sam interjected, clearing his throat. "She lost her right hand."

Denti blinked, looking genuinely surprised. "What?"

Sam glanced at Steve before continuing. "The Alamo. He crushed her hand."

"Samuel," Steve said, his tone a warning.

"Sorry," Sam replied, lifting his hands defensively. "I just wanted to point it out."

Denti chuckled under his breath, a low, bitter sound. "Serves her right," he said, shaking his head. "Still… Captain, you see how these mutants are dangerous, no? Today it’s the Leper Queen’s hand. Tomorrow, it’s the president’s head."

Steve’s expression hardened, his tone resolute. "I don’t think that’s the goal of most mutants. Same way is not the goal of most humans."

"It's not a matter of desire, it's a matter of power." Denti said, his voice carrying the certainty of a man who believed he was right, even if the world disagreed. "You’ll see"

Steve straightened, his hands resting firmly on the table. "Is that all, Denti?"

"That is all, I'll say before that plea bargain."

Denti looked between them, his smirk returning, though it carried no real warmth. "Just promise me something, Captain."

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"

"When the mutants turn on us," Denti said, his voice cold and measured, "you’ll fight for America. For the average people. Not them. Not Xavier, not the X-Men, not the Alamo… Us. People. People who believe in Captain America."

Steve’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, silence filled the room. Then, his voice came low and resolute. "I’ll fight for what’s right. Freedom, justice and hope. I don’t care if I have to fight mutants or humans for it."

Denti stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Then your heart is in the right place, Captain America."

Steve rose from his chair, adjusting his gloves. "We’ll talk again, Denti."

Denti nodded, a faint trace of a smirk on his face. "We will, Captain. Sergeant."

Sam stepped closer, his voice softer. "You’re doing the right thing, Carl."

Denti chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, yeah… Just leave me alone now."

Steve and Sam turned toward the door, their boots echoing in the small interrogation room. As the door shut behind them, Denti leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty table in front of him. For a man who had spent his life fighting, the quiet of the room felt heavier than any battle he’d faced.

Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson stepped out of the interrogation room, their expressions weighed down by the heaviness of what had transpired. The tension of the conversation with Carl Denti clung to them like a shroud, and even the faint echo of the closing door seemed to underline the gravity of the moment.

Logan was waiting for them in the dimly lit hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his ever-present scowl deepening as he sniffed the air. "Got anythin’, bub?"

Steve stopped, his face betraying only the faintest flicker of frustration. "We got him to tell us about Trask, Creed… and more," he replied evenly.

Logan tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing. "He’ll testify?"

Steve nodded. "He will."

Logan huffed a dry laugh, his tone laced with skepticism. "Really? I wonder what price you paid to make a man like him talk."

"Logan," Jean Grey interjected softly, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm.

But Cyclops, standing nearby with his arms folded, wasn’t as quick to de-escalate. He turned his gaze sharply to Steve. "No, Jean. Logan’s right. What happened there, Captain?"

Steve met his glare with one of his own, his voice calm but firm. "We talked. We offered him a plea bargain."

Cyclops’ visor tilted upward as his expression hardened. "Really, Rogers? Tell me about it."

Steve straightened his posture, his tone steady. "We'll see, but this is the best way to bring Trask to justice."

"Maybe bring his sentence from life to a couple decades. Some few years in parole, before he can die old and alone." Falcon added, though his voice carried a hint of empathy.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

"Parole?!" Cyclops exploded, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Captain," Jean said, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief, "this man has been a problem for the X-Men for years. The amount of people he killed… You can’t let him be free."

Logan’s claws scraped the wall behind him as he growled low. "Steve, this man is dangerous. Great, bub. Just great. I vouched for ya, Steve."

Steve’s lips tightened into a thin line, his jaw clenched.

"Captain, you betrayed us," Cyclops said, his voice cold as ice.

"Captain America didn’t betray any of you," Sam snapped, stepping in defensively. "Do you think this is easy? Do you think we like this?"

Cyclops turned to him, his voice sharp and cutting. "The man is a killer, Falcon."

"Yeah? What about Wolverine? Is he a saint?" Sam fired back.

Logan’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You wanna play that game, kid?"

With a sudden SNIKT, Logan’s claws slid out, gleaming in the low light.

"Logan, please," Jean said, stepping between him and Sam.

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his teeth bared. "Oh, Red, the kid is askin’ for it."

Sam stepped forward, his tone cold and measured. "Is this how you solve problems, Wolverine? You tear a hole through them?"

Logan turned to face Cyclops, his claws twitching. "I’m happy to show you how I do it, bub."

"ENOUGH!" Steve’s voice thundered through the hallway, cutting through the rising tension like a blade. All eyes turned to him as he took a deliberate step forward, his commanding presence instantly silencing the group. "All of you. We have good evidence to incriminate Trask. We will stop him and the Friends of Humanity. This is what matters."

Cyclops shook his head, his posture stiff with frustration. "How can we keep trusting you, Captain?"

"I promised Rogue I'd see this through, we need to have justice for the people who died. Put an end in this domestic terrorism issue. We need Trask to be accountable for his crimes. The best way to truly change this is with changes to the law." Steve responded.

"We need case where they're prosecuted, we need to make sure this won't be a one time thing." Sam added. His tone defensive.

"And the best way to do this is be lettin' this fucker walk free?" Wolverine retorted, a deep scowl in his face.

"He's not walking free, he's going to do time. We only said he won't die in prison." Falcon corrected.

"Too bad that's were he should die."

"Captain, this is not the way." Jean looked at him, they could see the strain in her voice.

Logan gave his back to the group, his fists clenching as his claw retracted.

"The kid was right, trustin' this damn government won't lead anywhere."

The sound of footsteps broke the moment as Sharon Carter appeared from the far end of the hallway, a file tucked under one arm. She stopped a few steps away from Steve, her expression unreadable. "Steve," she said briskly, "do you want to talk to the Leper Queen?"

Steve nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

"We’ll go," Sam said, stepping up beside him.

"No—" Steve started, but Sam cut him off.

"Steve, the X-Men are with us. They can come."

"Yeah, we’ll," Cyclops said firmly, stepping forward.

Logan scoffed under his breath, his arms crossing over his chest. "Great. Just great."

Steve turned to face him directly, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "Logan."

Logan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don’t order me around anymore, boy scout," he growled.

"Logan," Jean said softly, placing a hand on his arm again.

For a moment, it seemed like Logan might argue further, but then he shrugged off her hand and stepped back with a disgruntled huff. "Fine. Let’s get this over with."

Steve nodded and turned back to Sharon. "Lead the way."

The group followed Sharon down the hallway, the tension palpable as they prepared to face the Leper Queen. Behind them, only the humming of the ACs echoed in the hallway, a bitter reminder of the cost of their choices.