Scott hit the ground running. Terror coursed through his veins as he frantically searched his mind for some tactic or weapon he hadn't tried yet. This menace was...inhuman. Brick walls and trash flew by in a panicked blur as he tore down the alley, desperate for escape.
Another crackle of electricity let him know his pursuer was still hot on his heels. It sounded like the weapon missed him by mere inches. What the hell was that thing?
Rounding another corner, Scott slipped in a puddle and nearly went down. Some trash caught on his feed and forced him sideways, straight into a dumpster. The metallic bang radiated through the alley, nearly deafening him. He hoped his sadistic enemy suffered just as much.
Scott fought the terror back. He knew he couldn't escape without his powers and a plan, but as it was, his normally disciplined mind was too clouded for either. More crackling whizzed past his ear and brick exploded from an old building just ahead of him. "You're not helping," he scolded under his breath.
It seemed impossible-unreal. For the last fifty years, no man or mutant has ever been able to stand against him. Hell, with most of them, he barely had to break a sweat. And yet with this guy-this phantom-every plan has been defeated and every power countered or nullified. What in the hell was this guy?
A disembodied laugh rang out, slicing through the still night. Distracted, Scott turned back to look, then realized he couldn't see where he was going. But a sudden glare from headlights swallowed the cluttered alley in a blinding light. A sharp pain grabbed his ankle and the other foot snapped to the side, jetting out from under him and skidding across the slick asphalt. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Scott realized he was done for. This was the end. That jackal had him and there was nothing Scott could do about it. But in that moment, Scott's resolve galvanized. He may have been beat, but there was no way Cyclops, leader of the Black Army, was going down without a fight. If this demon intended to drag Scott's soul to Hell, the bastard was going to have to earn that honor.
Scott's fall arrested, his body nearly horizontal. Levitating back on his feet, he 'shifted his lower legs to heal the injuries and prepared for the fight of his life.
Silence and stillness greeted him. Fear welled in his gut as he remembered his eyes, ears and telepathy were useless for finding this wraith. It was like he didn't even exist; a wisp in the wind, tangible only to attack.A shadow of a man that thought he existed, but truly didn't. Scott shook it off and shapeshifted some throwing knives. He hurled them back down the alley, not entirely sure there was even anything to hit. His spirits crashed with his weapons. Not one hit anything.
Despair boiled into rage. "Come out and face me!" How could such a coward have run him down like a dog? Cyclops? The man who single-handedly united the mutant species and liberated them from the humans? A mutant and a shapeshifter? Feared across the United States, his Black Army had gutted the sentinels, shredded forty-two human terrorist organizations and even beaten back the National Guard! Power beyond power and one lone phantasm had him shaking in his boots! Scott's gut roiled in disgust.
"You don't scare me!" The challenge echoed into the distance.
"Oh no?" Scott's heart leaped into his throat and he whirled to face his foe. Realizing his fear now showed on his face, he composed himself and studied the dark man before him. He looked young, in his twenties, but then again, so did Scott and that was most certainly not true.
Steely blue eyes glared at scoot from beneath long strands of black hair. A black, button-down shirt and black pants seemed to Scott to be a poor attempt at a menacing image, though the fingerless leather biker gloves were...better. All in all, Scott was disappointed. He'd expected something a little more...monster-y.
"Definitely not." He grinned a he relaxed into an arrogant battle stance, certain that his opponent's prowess was mere bluff and bluster. Scott decided on a power that would serve him well in such close, urban quarters and resequenced his DNA. He was fast enough that most would miss the momentary distortion as his molecules broke apart and rearranged themselves. Smiling to himself, Scott waited for the perfect moment to strike.
His enemy lifted his chin, apparently realizing his scare tactics had failed, but a glint of a smirk vexed Scott, as though the man somehow wasn't totally screwed facing a powerful shapeshifter capable of using any mutant power in existence. Clearly this man was an idiot.
He moved and Scott responded a split second later. The man raised his right arm as though his palm were some sort of cannon. Scott wasn't sure what this was, so he levitated out of the way, magnetically yanking pipes, wire and anything else he could find toward his opponent. Brick and asphalt exploded all around him.
Scott crowed, sure his telepathically-invisible enemy was still caught in the midst of the violently twisting metal, though dust filled the alley in a thick haze. Just to make sure he didn't miss the poor lout, Scott warped the metallic tendrils throughout the alley, jabbing and slicing and constricting everything that might be there. Satisfied, Scott floated there, waiting for the dust to settle and reveal his handiwork. With each passing second of still tranquility, he became more confident in his success. Finally, he turned to leave the pile of rubble he'd created, floating casually through the air.
A crackling startled him. He tried to whip around to see the source but it was too late. It tore through his reflexive psy shield like butter and lanced his mind into ribbons. The pain was unbelievable. The world fell away. People disappeared from his mind. The alley and buildings just faded away. Then everything seemed to lurch and he hurt in a new way. Dully, Scott realized he'd just hit the ground. He was beyond caring by then, electricity crackling throughout his body.
"Just kill me now," he murmured, the fight draining out of him.
Confused, terrified and unable to hold a single thought in his head, Scott could only wait for something new to happen and hope he survived.
The darkness of a form standing over him caught his attention; his addled mind struggled to process it. He tried to form words, but only one survived to his lips.
"Wh—wh…why?" The effort exhausted him and he sank back into the pain before an answer came. The next several things that happened to and around him blurred together in a meaningless miasma of sensations. Something was pulling on him, like ropes. A rough, sometimes sharp surface clawed at his skin. Vibrations permeated his body like little angels, and took some of the pain away. Enough that he could see asphalt whipping by at light speed. He was being moved, but where? The asphalt turned to grass and Scott decided to make his move.
He tried to gather some telekinetic energy for something, but nothing happened. There was nothing to gather. He couldn't shapeshift or levitate. Panicked, he struggled off the bar supporting him. The vibrations disappeared and the full force of his bindings ripped through him in an electrical rage. Another impact. More pulling. A sharp strike to the base of his skull. Everything faded, releasing him from his painful prison.
—oOo—
The crumpled, lifeless form of yet another menace to society adorned the deck of his Ship.
"Scott Summers with limitless power." The chuckled to himself. "Seems like that's always a bad idea…"
This is only the first chapter of what could be a much longer story, but who knows when I'm going to finish it? I'm sick of incomplete stories nagging at me from my account, so I'm only posting stuff I can call 'complete'. So for now, this is a one-shot, but I have more written and I plan on adding to it later. Hopefully the fanfiction gods smile upon me and send a muse.