Chapter 57: The Iceman
Clinging tightly to Angel's shoulders, Bobby looked down at the forest below them as they soared through the air with awe. Even as his arms began to ache, his breathing still erratic from the sheer exhilaration and fear he felt, Bobby couldn't help but marvel at the scenery below. His gaze followed it along until they landed on the prison that was now far behind them, its oppressive walls swallowed by the darkness of night.
He had escaped.
A quiet laugh escaped him, one that turned into a noise of surprise when they began their descent, Angel's wings beating against the cool night air disturbing the silence of the forest around them. But peeking through the trees was the sight of the X-Jet, the sleek black vehicle looking almost otherworldly, its angular design a stark contrast to the rugged wilderness surrounding it.
Warren landed lightly, his wings folding neatly against his back as he set Bobby down, the younger boy stumbling slightly. He quickly steadied himself though, his wide eyes fixed on the aircraft. "Is…is that yours?" Bobby asked, his voice tinged with awe.
"Technically, it's the team's," Warren replied, striding past Bobby and toward the jet. "But yeah, it's ours."
Bobby hesitated, trailing after him, his mind spinning and questions burned on his tongue. "Who…who are you guys?" He blurted out suddenly. "Who are you really? And who was that guy back there—the one who stayed behind?" He knew the names they had, Angel and Cyclops, but that was all Bobby knew.
Well, not entirely.
He knew that they were both Mutants like he was and more importantly, he knew that Cyclops was extremely skilled. Watching him fight was like watching an action movie, long fight sequences that were just as amazing as they seemed implausible. A single man taking on dozens of armed men singlehandedly without any pause or hesitation, but more importantly, without ever seeming to struggle.
Angel comparatively seemed to be more like what Bobby expected a real-life fight to be like, wild, chaotic and a struggle.
Warren stopped at the base of the jet's ramp, turning to face Bobby, his features clearly showing he was debating what to say and what not to say. "I'm Angel," Warren repeated, his voice steady but not unkind. "The guy who stayed behind—that's Cyclops. We're part of a team."
Bobby frowned. "Yeah, I know your code names, but who are you? Like, really?"
For a moment, Warren looked uncertain, his usual confidence faltering. "I can't really answer that," he admitted. "I only joined this group recently, so I don't know much myself. Cyclops…he knows more than I do. He's been doing this longer."
Bobby crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "So, what? Do you just blindly follow orders? Don't you think it's weird that you guys show up, beat the crap out of everyone, and don't even tell me who you are?"
Warren's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "We just saved your life. You don't have to like us, but a thank you would be nice." His smirk grew in size as Warren rolled his shoulder lightly. "Besides, don't you think it's weirder that you're questioning the guys who saved you?"
Bobby opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself, realizing Warren wasn't wrong and with that realisation, his gaze shifted to the floor uncomfortably. They had saved his life, just like Warren said and now he was questioning their motives like they were bad guys. Sure they were suspicious but they also didn't have to save his life in the first place. But the thing was, Bobby wanted answers, he wanted to know what their motives were for saving him, what they wanted in return for helping him and more importantly what they were going to do to him.
"Look," Warren said, his tone softening slightly. "We fight for Mutants. Both me and Cyclops, we're trying to be heroes. Leaving you in the prison to rot and potentially die doesn't seem exactly heroic now does it?"
Bobby scoffed, an amused smile crossing his lips. "No, I suppose not." His smile then twisted into a frown. "Shouldn't you go back for Cyclops? He's alone there right?"
It was Warren's turn to scoff now as he made his way up the ramp. "Cyclops isn't the warm-and-fuzzy type, but he knows what he's doing. If he says he's getting you out, he'll do it. You can count on that."
Bobby nodded reluctantly, still unsure but too drained to argue and just settled for following Warren up the ramp and into the jet. He took a moment to look around the sleek, futuristic interior filled with glowing panels and high-tech controls before taking a seat near the back. As Warren moved to the cockpit to prepare for takeoff, Bobby leaned back into his seat, his thoughts racing.
'Who are these people? And why would they risk so much for someone like me?'
-X-
Scott Summers stood in the middle of the corridor, his chest heaving and back resting against the wall to support himself as he surveyed the aftermath of the fight. Bodies lay strewn across the floor—prisoners, guards, and members of the mob who had managed to break through and all of them were in various states of injury and consciousness.
The air was thick with the acrid smell of sweat and blood.
The walls were scarred in places where his optic blasts had struck, and the floor was slick with debris and shattered weapons.
Scott reached up to adjust the black mask covering the lower half of his face, his gloved hands trembling slightly a familiar ache of muscle soreness and fatigue beginning to settle in. He had fought harder than he needed to that much Scott knew, but he couldn't stop himself in the beginning and toward the end, it didn't matter if he wanted to or not.
His opponent just kept coming.
His strikes had been precise, his optic blasts controlled, but there had been a ferocity to his attacks that much Scott had made sure of and not held back on. D raw, unrelenting force that had driven him to take down every single opponent who dared stand in his way until none had remained standing leaning to the current state of things.
Taking a deep breath, Scott rolled his shoulders as he stood up fully the faint ache of exertion spreading through the muscles of his entire body. Now that his mind was clearer, while his earlier reasons for this fight still stood, a new one, more clearer than the others settled. He knew that this would send a message and begin to plant the seed of fear in disorganised and common anti-mutant mobs such as those that had formed outside the prison. There would be fewer of these willing to come believing in the superiority of numbers against cornered Mutants.
But it would not stop the truly fanatical and frenzied amongst them from forming and in time, Scott knew that number would increase. What he had done for the time being was nothing more than temporary message. No, the real purpose of this fight had escaped him with everything that had been clouding his mind recently.
This fight had been a release.
A chance to vent his anger and frustration that had been building inside him for weeks.
Anger at the way Mutants were treated.
Anger at Wolverine for forcing his hand.
Anger at Charles and Amelia.
Frustration with Alex for being so stubborn.
Frustration at Hank and Warren.
But more importantly, anger at himself for not being able to change anything fast enough. He had knowledge, fragmented but still useful and yet he had allowed the trauma of his childhood, the trauma of the memories and the emotions connected to them to overwhelm him and stall him. When he tried acting on them, he acted rashly and got himself in a position where he was being hunted by a foe beyond his level. Leading him back to where he began, back at the Xavier Mansion and trapped with the X-Men.
Not any longer.
His mind was clearer now.
He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the air as ran his hands through his hair, eyes opening as he looked upon the silent corridor. 'I will do what I can with the cards I have. Sabretooth is after me, I am not ready for him so I will use this opportunity to mould the X-Men into the perfect team. In the meantime, I will also prepare to form another team, one that deals with shadows. I will lead them both, fighting the enemies to come that are both in the light and in the shadows. If I can control both spheres of warfare to come, then I will be able to guide Mutantkind and humanity to a better future.'
Pushing the thoughts aside, Scott began to move, stepping over the unconscious bodies, his boots crunching against broken glass and debris as he made his way toward the exit. The sound of distant shouting echoed through the prison, but he paid it no mind there was no need to concern himself with them. They wouldn't be able to reach him in time and if they did, they would be too struck by the carnage he had left behind to attack him.
By the time he reached the outer wall, his breathing had steadied, his focus sharp once again.
The hole he had blasted earlier was still there, the cool night air rushing in.
Without hesitation, he stepped through it, leaving the chaos behind.
-X-
The X-Jet loomed in the clearing as Scott emerged from the forest, his movements steady despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. Warren and Bobby were already aboard, their figures visible through the jet's cockpit window and as Scott ascended the ramp, the sound of his boots echoed faintly in the enclosed space, Bobby was the first to notice him. As soon as he did, he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing cautiously and Scott approved of that mindset.
"Robert Drake." Scott said evenly. "You have a choice. We either drop you near your hometown or you come with us."
Bobby blinked, caught off guard by the sudden proposition. "And where will that be exactly?" He asked warily.
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere you don't have to worry about being locked up again."
Bobby scoffed, somehow doubting that considering what Cyclops and Angel seemed to be involved in, but he shook his head. "Well, I can't exactly go back to my parents because they didn't give a shit when I was being dragged to prison. Just sat there and let it happen." He muttered in betterment, a scowl upon his lips. "So I guess I'm coming with you considering I doubt going out on my own would be safe either."
"Very well." Scott nodded his head stiffly. "Then welcome aboard Robert Drake."
"Welcome to what?"
"The X-Men."