First Defeat, New Lesson

Jean, Warren, Bobby, and Hank made their way into the Danger Room, their footsteps echoing across the metallic floors as the doors slid shut behind them. The air inside was cool and sterile, but the tension between the four of them was palpable. They knew exactly what was coming the moment they laid eyes on Scott and Logan standing together, deep in conversation.

They couldn't hear what was being said, but they didn't need to.

Scott and Logan always looked serious, but today? Today felt different.

Jean bit the inside of her cheek, exchanging a knowing glance with the others. 'This is not going to be fun.'

Over the last few days, since learning about the Marauders and the assassin coming for Scott, their training had gone from difficult to near inhumane. They had thought the training was already intense, but Scott had somehow found a way to push them even further.

Every. Single. Day.

The exhaustion in their bodies was evidence enough—muscles sore from overuse, reflexes sharpened by endless drills, and minds constantly processing strategies and counter-strategies Scott had drilled into them.

Scott and Logan turned as the four lined up in front of them. "Today, we'll be working on teamwork."

Warren let out a deep sigh under his breath, Bobby crossed his arms with an unamused look, Hank adjusted his glasses in silent anticipation, and Jean felt like she was walking to the gallows.

Scott, dressed in his usual dark athletic attire, unzipped his black hoodie and slid it off, revealing a long-sleeved compression top underneath. The fabric clung to him, outlining the lean, honed muscle he had developed from years of self-discipline and training. He was built like a fighter—because that's exactly what he was.

The sight made Jean pause for a brief moment, though she quickly refocused when Bobby raised a hand. "Why?" Bobby asked, his tone laced with suspicion. Scott had always told them to ask questions when they didn't understand something, and Bobby—despite his exhaustion—wasn't about to let that rule slip.

Scott's expression didn't change as he spoke, voice calm yet firm. "Because, fighting as a team is a lot harder than it sounds. You have to be aware of each others strengths and weaknesses. Keep track of not only their whereabouts, but their stamina and injuries. It's not just about attacking your opponent with someone else. So, starting today, every weekend morning session will be focused on teamwork. Our weekday training and afternoon sessions will still focus on individual development, but we need to start integrating what we've learned together. We're not just training as individuals anymore—we're training as a team."

Jean, Warren, Bobby, and Hank exchanged looks.

"Why didn't we start earlier?" Hank asked, ever the logical one.

Scott turned to him, nodding slightly as if he had anticipated the question. "Because up until now, your individual skills weren't strong enough for teamwork to make a difference," Scott explained. "No matter how good your teamwork was, it wouldn't have mattered if you didn't have the power, control, and skill to hold your own in a fight. Teamwork is important—but it's meaningless if we can't end a fight when it matters."

Jean felt a cold shiver run through her at his words.

Scott was blunt, but he was also right.

"In some cases," Scott continued, "your powers were too unstable to use in a team setting without being a liability." His eyes flickered to Bobby for just a second, the unspoken words hitting their target. Bobby grimaced but didn't argue—because he couldn't.

There had been more than a few close calls where Bobby had nearly frozen someone—whether it be himself or a teammate—when he lost control. If he was going to be the powerhouse of the team, he couldn't afford to be unpredictable.

"But now?" Scott pressed on, "You've all reached a minimum standard in individual skills. Which means now, we can build up team coordination alongside individual training." Scott glanced toward Logan, then back at them. "I'll be acting as our command center and long-range support, but my priority is to issue commands, I will not be fighting. Jean, you'll be mid-range support."

Jean straightened slightly at the mention of her name.

"Bobby, you'll be mid-range attack."

Bobby nodded, already mentally preparing himself.

"Warren you will be our vanguard and aerial support. Hank, you will be our frontline fighter."

Warren grinned, rolling his shoulders back as if accepting a personal challenge. Hank, however, adjusted his glasses again, hesitant but determined.

Then Scott's voice hardened, his gaze sweeping over them all. "Logan is our enemy. Our objective is to defeat him as a team."

Jean felt her stomach drop.

The others reacted similarly.

"Hold on," Bobby blurted out, "you're telling us that we have to fight Logan?!"

Scott's lips quirked slightly in amusement, but there was no humor behind it. "Yes," he confirmed.

Hank let out a small groan, rubbing his temples, Warren clicked his tongue and Jean swallowed hard. Logan stood there with his arms crossed, silent and waiting, an almost eager glint in his eye. Jean glanced between the two men—Scott, who was calmly watching them, and Logan, who looked like he was already mapping out a dozen ways to dismantle them one by one.

This was going to hurt.

-X-

Jean could barely move.

Her body ached in places she didn't even know could ache, her limbs felt like lead, and her lungs burned as she tried to catch her breath. She wasn't alone in her suffering—Bobby, Warren, and Hank sat beside her, all in similar states of exhaustion, bruised, battered, and utterly drained.

They had lost.

Logan had demolished them.

It wasn't even close.

They had managed to last just over two minutes before Scott called an end to the fight, but those five minutes had felt like a lifetime. The only two left standing at the end were Scott and Logan, and to Jean's frustration, neither of them looked even remotely winded. In fact, both of them looked like they could do it all over again—and she imagined it would far more intense.

Jean wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaning back against the cool metal wall of the Danger Room as she replayed the fight in her head.

It had started fast.

Too fast.

The moment Scott gave the signal to begin, Logan had immediately targeted him—their leader. It made sense. If they were fighting a real enemy, going for the commander first would throw the entire team into chaos.

Bobby had been the first to react.

He had stepped in front of Scott, instinctively trying to shield him with ice. But Logan had anticipated the move and, without hesitation, shifted his focus to Bobby instead.

That had been a big mistake.

For Bobby.

Logan ripped through Bobby's ice defense like it was nothing, claws cutting through ice like they were nothing. The next thing they knew, Bobby was down within the first few seconds—a brutal strike to his gut followed by a precise takedown that left him sprawled on the floor, groaning.

Jean winced at the memory.

Then came Warren and Hank.

Seeing Bobby eliminated so quickly had spurred them into action, both of them charging Logan at once. Warren swooped in from above, wings spread wide, aiming to use his speed to overwhelm Logan. Hank had followed moments later, using his enhanced agility and strength to try and capitalize on Warren's distraction.

It didn't work.

Warren went down seconds later.

Logan had sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing Warren mid-flight and slamming him into the ground with bone-rattling force. The fight was over for him before it had even begun.

Hank had lasted slightly longer—but not by much.

Logan had anticipated his every move, blocking every strike, countering every attack, until finally, he landed a decisive blow that left Hank crumpled on the floor next to Warren and Bobby.

Jean exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples.

Then it was just her and Scott.

Technically just her, as Scott hadn't even taken part, just issuing orders and guidance. For a moment, she had held their own following the directions Scott gave her. Jean had used her telekinesis to keep Logan at bay, redirecting his momentum, pushing him off balance just long enough for her to regather her bearings when he came close.

It had worked.

For a little while.

But Jean's stamina wasn't strong enough yet—her control still too shaky to keep it up for long. She had burned out, leaving herself wide open, and Logan had ended it right then and there. The second Jean staggered, Logan had closed the distance and taken her down in a matter of seconds.

That was when Scott had called it.

They lost.

Now, as they sat bruised and beaten, Scott approached them. His expression was unreadable, calm as always, but there was something in his gaze that told Jean he was analyzing them, measuring their reaction to failure. "So," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "What did you think of your performance?"

Silence.

Jean crossed her arms, scowling.

Bobby looked away, frustrated.

Warren clenched his jaw.

Hank adjusted his glasses but didn't speak.

They all knew the answer.

They had done terribly.

Scott, however, didn't seem disappointed. If anything, he looked satisfied—not with their performance, but with their reaction. "You lasted over two minutes against Logan. That's not bad considering it's your first time working as a team," Scott stated, his tone even. "For a team that's still new to working together, and still learning to control their powers, two minutes against Logan who wasn't holding back isn't just good—it's a sign of potential."

Jean blinked, genuinely surprised as she hadn't thought about it like that. Neither had the others, judging by the way Bobby perked up slightly and Warren raised an eyebrow in interest.

"That doesn't mean there isn't a lot to improve," Scott added. "Because there is. But you shouldn't let one loss dishearten you." His voice was steady, confident, unwavering. "We train so we can get better. Losing isn't failure—it's a lesson. And the lesson today is that we still have a long way to go."

Jean felt herself relax slightly, though the bruises on her body still ached.

"Head upstairs, get some rest. We have individual training later this afternoon," Scott instructed.

Bobby groaned loudly. "You're kidding, right? We just got wrecked—and you still want us to train again?"

Scott shot him a look.

Bobby sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. "Fine. Whatever."

Scott smirked slightly before turning serious again. "Before you go, I want you all to write an AAR—After Action Report. List out what you did right, what you did wrong, and how you can improve."

Bobby groaned again. "Homework? Seriously?"

Scott ignored him. "If you don't understand your mistakes, you'll never fix them. AARs are necessary if we're going to improve as a team."

Jean nodded, already mentally going over her own mistakes. She had burned too much energy too quickly. She needed to find ways to conserve her stamina and fine-tune her control so she wouldn't exhaust herself mid-fight again.

The others seemed less eager, but they still nodded in understanding.

One by one, they all got up, groaning in protest as their sore muscles reminded them of just how badly they had lost. As they made their way toward the exit, Logan walked up to Scott, standing beside him. "We got a lotta work to do," Logan muttered.

Scott nodded. "I know. But we can use this week to our advantage."

Logan nodded gruffly, his sharp eyes flickering toward the exit. "I'll keep an eye on Victor in the meantime. If he makes a move."

Scott's jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Good. Let me know if anything changes."

As Logan walked away, Scott exhaled, his mind already running through plans for how to handle everything that was coming. Jean, glancing back one last time as he left the Danger Room, saw the thoughtful look in Scott's eyes and felt something stir inside her.

He was always thinking ahead.

Always planning.

Yet despite their crushing defeat, she had to admit—she felt safer knowing Scott was leading them.