Hearing a knock at his door, Scott put his notebook away in his drawer and headed to the door, opening it to see Warren and Hank standing there waiting. Their expressions were entirely different, Warren looking eager and confident with a smile on his face, while Hank looked nervous and anxious about what was to be said.
"Come on in," Scott told them, stepping to one side and allowing both boys into his room. Warren made his way quickly to the desk, sitting down in the chair while Hank hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can sit on the bed if you want, Hank," Scott told him, moving to the bed himself to sit down, Hank paused for a moment before sitting at the edge awkwardly.
"So, we have a mission?" Warren asked excitedly. "What's it about?"
Scott didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"This mission is simple in theory, but the risks are high," he began, his tone firm as he went straight to the point. Scott could have sugarcoated things, but considering the mentalities of Warren and Hank, it could have more negative effects than positive. Warren, confident and slightly cocky could end up not taking the mission as seriously as necessary even when things got serious. As for Hank, the sudden revelation of unexpected variables could cause him to freeze up, leaving him and putting others in a vulnerable position. "I'm going to rescue a mutant currently being held in prison. His name is Robert Drake."
Hank furrowed his brow. "Why is he in prison?"
"He's a mutant with cryokinetic abilities. He was arrested for accidentally using his powers in public," Scott explained. "He's the same age as us, but the authorities labelled him a threat and threw him into a local prison. He currently has no set release date and the legal system is dragging its feet in addressing his future. It's likely that if nothing is done to change this, Drake will spend the rest of his life in prison."
Neither Hank nor Warren liked the sound of that.
"So we're breaking him out?" Warren leaned back, his arms crossed. "Sounds pretty straightforward to me."
"It's not." Scott's eyes locked onto Warren, the young man's words proof of why Scott was hesitant to take the two with him on this mission. "The problem isn't just the prison. It's the mob that's gathering outside the prison."
"Mob?" Warren asked, the glimmer of excitement in his eyes and the aura of confidence that had surrounded him dimming slightly.
Scott's features hardened. "Peaceful protestors. Not the type demanding Drake be given a fair trial, but the type protesting at the mere existence of a Mutant in their midst. The type that if left for too long, will be overcome with fear that they feed into until eventually it escalates into full-blown riots. Right now, they're content to wave signs and chant slogans about Mutants. But their sentiments are being shared amongst one another and eventually, it will just take a spark. They'll turn violent and suddenly the guards and prisoners will be the least of our concerns."
Hank's frown deepened. "What about the guards? The prisoners? Are they likely to cause problems?"
"Neither are guaranteed to be non-threats," Scott replied bluntly. "Some guards might see us as intruders or enemies and act accordingly. Some prisoners might see an opportunity to escape or to attack us to settle their own prejudices. Make no mistake; this is still a highly dangerous mission and we will be lucky if everything goes smoothly."
As Scott had intended, he did not hide anything or withhold the harsh reality of the worst-case scenario. As he had already known, both had certain mindsets that could prove to be more dangerous for them and the team as a whole if the information was withheld. Both needed to be fully aware of everything and to make their own choice following that and only then could Scott be certain.
"You both need to understand what you're walking into." Scott told them this as well. "This mission isn't optional for me, but it is for you. I'm going whether you guys join me or not. But if you decide to come, you need to be aware that this will be risky and things could quickly go south."
"...So guards, prisoners, a mob outside?" Warren wondered after a moment's pause for consideration before sitting up straighter, a glint of determination in his eye. "I'm in. Sounds like a challenge."
Scott frowned. "This isn't a game, Warren. If you think this is about proving yourself, stay here."
Warren's smirk faltered, though he tried to recover. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." Scott's tone was as sharp as a blade, well aware that his failures in New York had led to Warren developing a chip on his shoulder. "If you come with me, you follow my orders. No improvisation. No heroics. If you disobey, you'll be sidelined permanently. Do I make myself clear?"
Warren hesitated, then nodded. "Crystal."
Scott turned to Hank. "And your choice?"
Hank swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping slightly under Scott's scrutiny. "I… I don't know if I can do this."
Scott didn't soften his expression. "Then don't. This isn't a training exercise, Hank. If you're not ready to face what's out there, it's better for everyone if you stay here." It was harsh, but the truth. Scott was not going to force someone he didn't think was ready, let alone think themselves ready as all that would do was spell chaos and disaster. No, Hank needed more time to get comfortable with his powers and the fact that Hank recognised that was good to see, it showed promise.
Hank looked down at the table, ashamed but relieved. "I think…I think I should sit this one out."
Scott gave a curt nod, accepting Hank's answer. "You made the right choice. If you're not ready then forcing yourself would have been the wrong choice to make." He then turned to Warren. "Then it's just me and you. Get ready, we leave in an hour."
-X-
In the hangar, Scott moved with purpose, his movements precise as he checked over the jet. He was thorough and methodical as he checked over the systems of the X-Jet—anything less would have been unacceptable. The X-Jet still possessed the sleek black, aerodynamic design that was similar to the older more technologically advanced X-Jets. It lacked a few of the technological advancements born from alien technology but still was a top-end vehicle.
As he was beginning to wrap up his checks, Warren arrived, suited up in a sleek, black suit similar to Scott's own, his usual confidence replaced by a rare seriousness as he moved up the ramp. Carefully, Warren approached Scott and took the copilot seat, anxiously wondering whether this was a good time to speak.
Scott didn't look up from the controls in front of him. "If you have something to say, say it."
Warren cleared his throat. "Why him? Why risk so much for this kid?"
Scott paused. "I have no personal connection with him if that's what you're wondering." Though not entirely true as Bobby had been an integral member, ally, friend and confidant of Cyclops. But Warren's comment was mostly true as Scott himself had never met not actually had any contact with Bobby personally.
"I know that." Warren scoffed with a smile. "I'm just wondering why go so far for someone else."
"Because no one else will," Scott told him simply.
"That's it?"
"That's it," Scott confirmed, his tone leaving no room for further discussion. He looked outside to see Charles and Logan across at the other side of the hanger. Charles' expression was heavy with thought while Logan stood with his arms crossed.
"You're letting him go through with this?" Logan asked, his voice low.
"I don't have a choice," Charles replied quietly. "There's no one else capable of handling this."
Logan let out a growl of disapproval. "The kids desperate to leave." He pointed out gruffly. "You two share the same vision, but your methods differ. Scott knows this and he wants to get away so he can do things his way. You may have gotten him to stay so far, but that won't last and this mission just may embolden him. You think you can handle that?"
"I'm not sure." Charles replied. "But Scott and I are both determined to rescue Robert from his fate. That we both agree on. I have to trust that your offer to Scott is enough to make him come back and that maybe, just maybe this mission with Warren will make him see the value of the X-Men."
Logan just grunted, turning and leaving.
-X-
Meanwhile, Hank sat slumped on the couch in the mansion's common area, his head in his hands. His thoughts churned with guilt and self-doubt, the weight of his hesitation pressing heavily on him. He had wanted to go, wanted to rescue a Mutant unfairly trapped in prison, he knew it was the right thing to do. But Hank was only just beginning to get the image of Conquistador, broken and beaten under him from his mind whenever he used his powers in training.
To actually use them in a mission though, only filled Hank with self-doubt.
The sound of heavy boots approaching made him look up to see Logan standing over him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Get up," Logan said gruffly. "You're coming with me."
Hank blinked, confused. "What? Where?"
"The Danger Room," Logan replied, grabbing Hank by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "You're not sitting here feeling sorry for yourself while Summers and Bird Boy are out there risking their necks."
"But I—I said I wasn't ready—"
"That's why we train," Logan interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The evening air was thick with tension as Scott Summers and Warren Worthington crouched behind a row of shrubs, their eyes fixed on the mob gathered outside the prison. The crowd was large, numbering in the low hundreds, by Scott's calculations no more than two hundred at the most but those numbers had stagnated recently. In a few days, though those numbers could increase or decrease, it all depended on public sentiment and based on those things at the time being, it was likely to increase.
Going now was the best opportunity before things got even more dangerous.
Ignoring their shouts that echoed off the concrete walls of the prison, Scott turned his gaze away from the signs, acknowledging the writing of "Protect Humanity—Contain Mutants" and "No More Freaks" written on a few of them. He then turned to Warren from their vantage point on a hill overlooking the scene, noticing the wings shifting slightly, betraying his nervousness.
"It pisses me off." Warren muttered, voice low and filled with venom. "They judge us like they have any right. They don't know what it's like."
Scott didn't reply, just turning back toward the prison below as he scanned the perimeter of the prison, cataloguing guards, patrol patterns, and weak points. The mob was loud and threatening, but they hadn't crossed the line into outright violence, but that was not guaranteed to be the case forever. All it would take was enough shared words from like-minded individuals or an incident that would tip the scales from a peaceful protest to a vicious riot. Warren's words put Scott's mind at ease though, it showed that despite his nervousness that he had the right mindset.
Warren glanced at him, frowning. "Do you even care what they think? Or are you too busy planning to bother noticing?"
Scott's gaze didn't waver. "I'm not here to change their minds," he said flatly. "I'm here to get Bobby out."
Warren snorted softly, shaking his head. "You're as cold as ever."
"Stay focused," Scott said, his tone sharp but measured. "We're approaching this from the east side. The mob is concentrated on the front, so for now, they're not our problem." He gestured toward a less-guarded section of the prison wall. "The patrols over there are thinner. We'll slip past them, move along the outer edge, and make our way inside. Quick and quiet."
Warren opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden commotion amongst the protestors caught both their attentions as they turned to survey the crowd whose energy had shifted. A man in the crowd was waving his phone in the air, attracting others around him to see what was on it, others also pulling out their phone. The protestors once spread out, had huddled together into numerous smaller groups as they looked upon their phones.
Scott pulled out his own phone, he and Warren moments later quickly figured out what had happened when they saw that a social media post talking about Robert Drake's imprisonment had gained an update. One that had leaked the wing and cell block where Robert was being held, including a map of the prison and a guide on how to get there.
"That's not good," Warren murmured, leaning closer to look at Scott's screen.
"No," Scott agreed, his voice grim. "This proves someone inside the prison is feeding the mob information. If they decide to act on it…"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't have to.
But this proved to Scott that not only would he and Warren have to deal with the guards who were simply doing their job, but also the guards who were blinded by prejudice. This introduced a wild card, one that could see prisoners being released or the protestors inside, now charged and slowly being whipped up into a frenzy being allowed entry into the prison.
All this would depend on how many guards were not only blinded by prejudice but would act on said views.
Pocketing his phone, Scott turned to Warren once more. "We're out of time. We stick to the east side, move quickly, and avoid unnecessary fights. Our goal is Bobby. Nothing else matters."
Warren hesitated for a moment but nodded. "Got it."
"Good," Scott said. "Let's move."
-X-
The cell was cold, though Bobby barely noticed as he sat on the edge of his cot, staring at the dim lightbulb flickering above him. It was cramped, the only saving grace that gave him more room being the fact he had no cellmate with him. Yet Bobby still had his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them as though he could fold into himself and disappear.
It was hard to believe how things had gone so wrong.
It still played over and over in his mind.
It had been a warm afternoon, the kind of day where the sun beat down mercilessly, making the air feel heavy. Bobby had been on a date with Judy Harmon, a girl he'd liked for months and finally mustered the courage to ask out on a date. They were walking home together after a nice day together when Ronnie, a local bully, appeared with his gang.
The confrontation had escalated quickly.
Ronnie grabbed Judy's arm, leering at her while taunting Bobby, acting on his own feelings for Judy and trying to muscle Bobby out of the picture. Fear and anger surged in Bobby's chest, and before he knew it, the temperature around him plummeted. Ice shot out from his hands, encasing Ronnie in a thick layer of frost that had frozen him solid.
The look on Judy's face was one Bobby would never forget.
It was one mirrored by Ronnie and his gang's faces.
Shock.
Horror.
Fear.
Despite having been encased in ice, Ronnie had survived with little in the way of harm done. But the damage to Bobby and his life had been far greater as the town had labelled Bobby a freak and a monster. His parents, terrified and confused had called the police, but not on those outside their home, but on Bobby himself, something which had hurt Bobby more than anything else. The authorities though had wasted no time or sympathy as they hauled him off to prison, where he'd been locked up ever since.
Bobby shivered, not from the cold but from the memory of his parents' faces as they watched him being taken away.
They hadn't even tried to stop it.
He shifted on the cot, his thoughts turning darker. 'Am I going to spend the rest of my life behind bars? Is this how other mutants live? Feared? Hated? Locked away?' The sounds of the prison offered no comfort and the nearby cells filled with muttered threats from other prisoners had been filling his ears ever since he had gotten here.
"That ice freak better stay put, or I'll break him into little pieces…"
"Think he can freeze me? Let him try."
Not all the prisoners hated him—some had tried recruiting him instead, hoping to use his powers for their own benefit. But he knew better than to trust anyone here, they didn't care about him, they only cared about what he could do. The guards weren't much better as while a few had treated him with neutrality, maybe even a hint of sympathy, but most looked at him with thinly veiled disgust. Others were outright hostile, muttering slurs under their breath when they thought he couldn't hear.
Bobby buried his face in his hands.
His powers, once a source of excitement and wonder, now felt like a curse.
A sudden commotion of raised voices echoing down the hall and guards shouting orders broke through Bobby's thoughts. "Stop them!" One of the guards yelled.
"Who the hell are they?" Another voice, panicked and furious shouted.
The sound of fighting followed—a series of heavy thuds, the crackle of something mechanical, and a sharp clang as what sounded like a weapon hit the floor. It was short and quickly overshadowed by the sounds of the prisoners shouting and cheering, smacking their bars in what Bobby could only imagine was excitement and confusion.
"What's going on?"
"Who's out there?"
"Get me out of here!"
Bobby moved to his cell door, peering through the small, barred window trying to see what he could. He couldn't see much, but the sounds of fighting were getting closer and his heart pounded in his chest. That's when a blur of movement passed through the corridor causing Bobby's breath to hitch as he realised what it was; wings.
A figure landed gracefully in front of his cell, folding a pair of massive, white-feathered wings behind him smoothly as he leaned against the wall, relaxed and cockily as he peered inside at Bobby who stared back in disbelief. "Robert Drake?" The man asked as Bobby nodded his head, too stunned to speak.
That's when another figure approached, just as tall as the other man, but far more broad-shouldered and muscular looking bigger as a result. From the way the man with wings moved to the side, it was clear to Bobby who was in charge as the second figure stood in front of the door casting Bobby in his shadow.
"I'm Cyclops," the second man said, his voice firm but calm. "This is Angel. We're here to get you out of here."
Bobby blinked, his mind racing. "Why?"
Cyclops stepped closer to the cell door. "We're part of a team dedicated to helping Mutants like you and those unjustly imprisoned. If you want to get out of here, we can take you somewhere safe, but only if you want?"
Bobby hesitated as the offer sounded too good to be true.
But it was either accept the metaphorical hand being extended to him even if it wasn't completely truthful or remain here, alone and hated. "I…I want to go," he said quietly as it wasn't really a choice for him.
Cyclops nodded. "Good. Stay back."
That's when his eyes flashed red, Bobby reflexively backing away as a short blast of energy smashed into the gate and the heavy metal door opened. Still hesitant and half expecting this opportunity to escape to be stripped away from him, Bobby moved forward slowly and came out to stand beside Cyclops and Angel.
"Well, nice to meet you." Angel extended a hand and after a moment's pause, Bobby reached out and accepted the handshake.
"Let's get going."
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