Kitty vs Logan (Deathfic) – Requested by Amicitia

As far as the other residents of the Institute were concerned, the Danger Room was effectively soundproofed from external noise - meaning that no sound could enter the room, except via the intercom, once the blast-proof doors had sealed. Or so they thought, anyway.
As Logan stood in the centre of the brightly-lit room, he was under no such illusion. His sensitive hearing picked up the approaching voice even though the huge doors and a short way down the corridor.
"Says I can't fight... muttergrumble... doesn't know anything... grumblegripemutter... who does he think he is?"
And with that final exclamation, the owner of the voice entered the room.

As Logan had expected, the doors did not open - instead, Kitty Pryde walked right through them, courtesy of her ability to phase. Once inside the room, her litany of objections was paused until she strode up to the burly Canadian, who now wore a vaguely amused expression on his rough face.
"This," she announced, "Is stupid. Like, as if I need extra training!"
Logan snorted. "Oh, sure, Half-pint. I believe ya. Which must have been why Dukes dropped ya without a fight over on the beach the other day, right?"
She scowled furiously. "That was, like, so not fair," she retorted. "I, like, had him fall right through me! I could see inside him! Do you, like, have any idea how gross that is? Of course I fainted!"
"My heart bleeds for ya. Get ready."
She didn't move, but stared defiantly at Logan. "What about Kurt? Lance beat him up! Or maybe some lessons in teamwork for Scott 'Side-changer' Summers?"
Logan sighed. "Believe me, they're gonna get it just as bad. But you're up first. Now... get... ready."
With one last furious scowl, Kitty stalked a few steps back. "...just pissy 'cause Sabretooth beat you..." she muttered under her breath as she did so. Logan growled softly at that.
"Watch your mouth, Half-pint. Ya forgot about my hearing," he warned her.
"No," she smirked, "I didn't."

Clamping down on his growing irritation, Logan eyed the angry teenager facing him. "Ready?" he asked. Kitty's response was to remove a previously unseen weapon from a sheath on her back. Logan cocked an eyebrow.
"What," he asked flatly, "is that?"
Kitty looked at the long rapier in her hand, then back at him. "It's a potato," she said sarcastically.
"I can see the goddamn sword," he grated. "I wanna know what it's doing here."
"I, like, borrowed it from Kurt," she informed him. "Just to make things fair, since you've, like, got your claws."
"Put it down before ya hurt yourself," he ordered. In return, she flipped him the bird with her free hand.
"You want me to drop it? Like, first you've gotta make me."

That was it. Logan had had enough, and now he was angry. "Fine," he grated, and advanced with one hand stretched out to take the blade away from Kitty. She made no move to stop him, just watched with one raised eyebrow. Logan grabbed at her hand –
And failed to grasp her, his hand passing through hers like it wasn't there. Which, in terms of physics, it technically wasn't. Logan's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he recognised the look there, but it was so unexpected that he didn't react for an instant. That instant was all it took.
The rapier opened a shallow cut along Logan's ribs, under his raised arm, and Kitty stepped back a full metre, sword raised, circling around to the left with a gin on her face as Logan hissed at the sudden pain.
"Did I mention that Kurt's been giving me lessons?" she asked mockingly. "No? Like, sorry, must've forgotten or something."
By the time she finished speaking, two things had happened. One was that the wound she'd given Logan had healed up; the other was that Logan had crossed over into a blind rage.
"That's how ya wanna play it?" he snarled. "Fine by me."
And as his claws popped out with a metallic SNIKT, Logan waded in.

As Logan charged at her, Kitty didn't flinch, just waited for him to get within range; slashed once; and phased. A thin line of blood appeared across Logan's face an instant before he ran straight through her, one claw slashing harmlessly though her phased shoulder. Turning, she ran the point of her sword into his back as his momentum carried him past her, and then she stepped back once more.
As Logan came to a halt, his rage had gone down a notch already. Not much, mind you, but a little bit. Enough for him to switch from 'Red Bloodlust' to 'Cold Fury' – a transition with one important difference. Now, instead of mindless slashes and charges, he thought, planned, strategised. As his wounds healed, he was already planning his next move.
If I attack, she goes ghost on me... so I can't hit her... but she's gotta be solid to hit back... so that's when she's vulnerable... that's when I hit her, if I go slow and lead her into it...
He grinned mirthlessly.
Kitty Pryde was about to face the Wolverine in his full fury.

As Logan turned to face her again, Kitty could see the difference. There was a cold glitter in his eyes, his movements were more fluid, he was more visibly on edge. As he began to advance slowly, a thrill ran through her.
Remedial fighting classes, my ass, she thought. And then he was on her.
She took a short swing at his head; one clawed hand parried as the other shot in toward her. Kitty stepped swiftly around the arm, brought one knee up into it, moved, drew the sword back – too slowly. Logan's right hand lashed out, the claws slicing a deep cut in her arm. She cried out at the sudden pain, instinctively bringing the sword down, carving it into Logan's side before his left hand cut the sword into four pieces, leaving Kitty with a hilt and six inches of steel.
Then, as the pain and astonishment dulled her reflexes, she realised what had happened. She'd pushed him too far, and now the blow was coming, but she couldn't phase for the pain in her arm, and…

As his knuckles pressed into flesh, reality came back to Logan. With it, for an instant, came disorientation, and he shook his head to clear it.
And then he looked at the sight in front of him.
His knuckles pressed into Kitty's chest, just under her breasts. Between his knuckles sprouted his claws – the tips of which now jutted from Kitty's back. Logan's eyes went wide.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, no..." he whispered. "Shit, no..."
His claws retracted and, as Kitty slumped, he grabbed her and knelt, holding her, babbling useless denials to himself.
Suddenly Kitty focused on him. Groaned. Lurched out of his grasp, the hilt of the broken sword falling to the floor with a clatter as Logan reached for her again.
"Half-pint, hang on, I'll... Oh, Christ, I..."
His reaching hands clasped her wrists – and at that moment she met his eyes.
"Bastard," she croaked, before pushing both their hands down, toward the floor, into the floor. And before Logan could react, her hands were withdrawing, leaving his trapped in the solid surface. He couldn't move.
Logan's eyes went wide and he held his breath, stunned, as Kitty reached down for the hilt of the broken sword – and rammed the remaining six inches of steel into Logan's throat. And there she left it, quivering.
Logan could only stare in shock as she blinked once; twice; she wobbled slightly as blood ran out the corner of her mouth; swayed more; and finally collapsed from her kneeling position. She landed face down, her eyes wide and staring, in a pool of her own blood.
Kitty Pryde was dead.

For a full minute, Logan only stared wide-eyed in horror. Then he shook his head in disbelief and released the breath he'd been holding.
Or tried to.
His lungs strained, but the air wouldn't exhale, and... And then Logan realised what had happened. The hilt of the sword – and its six-inch blade – had perfectly sealed off his windpipe. Which, by now, had healed around the sword, holding it in place. He couldn't breathe.
Logan felt the panic rise up again – for while his healing factor allowed him to recover from any wound, suffocation was another matter. He, like any other living thing, needed oxygen to survive. Not even a mutant healing factor could change that.
By accident or design, Kitty's last living act would avenge her own death; for less than a minute later, after a terrific – and utterly useless – struggle, Logan collapsed at an awkward angle due to his hands, still held in the floor.
Three minutes later, his body had ceased to function.
They lay there – student and teacher – side by side in a slowly spreading pool of blood, each dead by the other's hand. The perfect stalemate.

----

Scott and Ororo hurried down the corridor toward the Danger Room.
"So, what's the problem?" Scott asked.
"I don't know," Ororo answered him. "Charles merely said that we should go to the Danger Room as quickly as possible. Perhaps there's been an accident during training...?"
They reached the door, and Scott glanced at a computer console. "It says here that the last two users were Kitty and Logan," he noted aloud. He hit the door release button. "With just those two... how bad can it be?"
The door to the brightly lit room slid open.