"Ya look like you're already back on top of your game," Logan commented at the fully adorned Captain America. "That costume does wonders for ya, Cap. I figure you might feel a little more real with it on, more capable."
"Thank you, Logan," Captain America responded. He nodded, although Logan could tell he was still a little bit shaky. "I think it does help. It feels almost like I'm home, when I wear this suit, like I might be able to actually do what needs doing to get the job done."
Logan only nodded. "That's the point, Cap. State of mind is most of the battle, and you know that. You've been trained in the military just as I was. You know how important morale is in a conflict."
Captain America only nodded for a moment. Then he turned to his audience, which included Logan, Charles Xavier, as well as Ororo Monroe, Emma Frost, Jean Grey and Bishop. The three women, along with Logan himself, as he was the Cap's contact, and Bishop, as he would be the least expected of the X-Men, would be the strike force to accompany Captain America to the Avengers Headquarters. There were some pretty impressive agents working for the Avengers; the X-Men would more than have their hands full. With the psionic ability of the two women, Emma Frost and Jean Grey, concentrated on keeping the team in communication and perhaps throwing off the opposition, they should start off with the upper hand. All of them were capable of dealing out some damage if it came to a duke'em out type situation. Bishop almost looked forward to it, Logan could tell. Honestly, Logan wasn't sure he wouldn't appreciate a reason to cut through Iron Man's tin suit either.
"How do I look?" Captain America needed reassurance. Logan could feel the chills going down his spine. What could have possibly done this to one of the greatest soldiers and heroes the United States of America, one of the greatest nations in the world, has ever had? He could feel his stomach clench at the idea of going anywhere near the headquarters.
"Like a leader," Jean smiled.
"Like you could take on the world," Emma followed.
"Like an icon," Bishop nodded.
Logan was quiet for some time. He wanted the Cap to hear his words when he would utter them. Finally, he came to the point of sharing.
"Like a soldier," he whispered. Captain America's eyes grew cold and distant, as some part of himself remembered what it meant to be a soldier. What it meant to know an order would send you to certain death, and follow through with it anyway, just because it was your duty to follow orders. What it meant to put in an entire life's worth of sacrifice, to expect no more recognition than a medal that is only recognized behind black ops doors and under a quiet gravestone.
Captain America nodded, and then his eyes glazed over in a way that was familiar to Logan: his machine-gunning soldier mentality of pure cold and utter duty encased his psyche like an eggshell, like a nutshell holding dearly to its nut.
"Let's go," the words were that of a leader, that of a man that could take on the world, that of an icon.
That of a soldier.