With the single eye of a pistol staring unblinkingly at him, Scott Summers couldn't help but thinking he could have planned his entrance a little better. As he stood, frozen, the gunman raised his second hand to the gun. This man knew what he was doing, and there was no hesitation or fear in his grip. He really intends to kill me! Scott told himself.
Remembering his training, Scott slowly raised his hands. It was to his benefit to appear as submissive and fearful as possible--anything to buy him some time.
"P-please no," Scott said. He didn't have to try to hard to bring the quiver of fear to his voice. The madness in the rapist's eyes would have been inspiration enough, if Scott's voice wasn't already unsteady in his anger. "I just, I heard somebody scream…"
The bald man's face spread into a sick smile. He obviously enjoyed the feeling of superiority his firearm afforded him.
And people call mutants 'monsters,' Scott thought.
The man had apparently been trained in the use of a gun, Scott gathered, as he made sure not to get within Scott's arm length. Disarming the man was going to be a real trick. Scott found his hand itching to grab for his shades. Years of habit and training told him that a narrow ruby-colored optic blast would easily be enough to knock the gun from his hand. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option at the moment. Scott chanced a glance at the blond on the floor. Tears carried black eye makeup down her face, and her own hands were cupped to her mouth. She seemed to be gasping for air, undoubtedly stifling a scream. Her eyes were wild, though, and Scott knew she was in shock.
His eyes, hidden behind cheap red sunglasses, narrowed and glared at the man in front of him with renewed determination. He knew that the key was to keep calm, to think rationally, to keep his eyes open for the right opportunity, and to then act without hesitation and with unbridled aggression. Otherwise, he'd be dead for sure.
"D-don't kill me," Scott continued. "I'll give you whatever you want. I'll give you anything."
"I want you to get on your knees," the large man said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Y-yeah, w-whatever," Scott said. Slowly, and purposefully shakily, he bent his knees. He did his best to look like he was staring at the tip of the gun, but his eyes never left the dark, dead-looking pits that were the rapist's eyes.
Finally, the man took a step forward. "And now," he said. "You can die." He raised his arm, locked at the elbow, and leveled it directly between Scott's eyes.
Scott stared directly at the man. He watched the glee spark in his attacker's eyes and he heard him flex his fingers on the gun's hilt. Scott did his best to find footing with his socked foot on the tiled ground.
"Better men than you have tried," Scott said. With a motion he'd practiced innumerable times, Scott pivoted his torso, and struck his raised right arm directly into the attacker's outstretched arm. He pushed up with his foot, trying to rise, but his foot slid. His knee slapped back onto the ground painfully, and Scott lost his balance. Dropping his arm, he tucked the attackers arm under his own and tried to grab the gun.
Directly behind him, the bald man let out a furious howl. A painfully loud blast erupted in the confines of the bathroom, and Scott felt fire tear through his side, but his teeth only clenched tighter.
Both men were clutching onto the silver gun with all of their might, and with both hands. The bald man released his left hand and squeezed it from under Scott's torso and began laying blow after blow on Scott's back. Scott responded by repeatedly thrusting his elbow into the man's gut and chest. Finally, he was able to get his elbow under the man's chin, and he knocked his head backwards violently. Scott twisted the gun and heard the pop as the rapist's finger, still on the trigger, dislocated. The gun fired again, but was pointed towards the ceiling this time. Dust and powder rained down on Scott's head as he pulled the gun from the man's fingers.
Breathing heavily, he tried to pull himself off of the larger man, who was still yelling in pain and fury. He managed to spill the bullets out onto the floor before he felt the attacker's arms around his stomach. Before he could act, he was being pulled over the man's head, and his own face was being pushed into the tiles.
"You're good, Shades," the man said through gasps for air. Scott felt his large hands holding him to the ground as he shifted his weight and regained his footing. The rapist let up, and Scott felt his sweaty hands grab his chin and the back of his head to snap his neck.
Letting out a cry that tore through his throat, Scott spun on the floor, his legs colliding with the rapist's. The large man's weight came crashing to the ground. Scott struggled to get out from under him, but only partially succeeded. Once again, the men were both on the cold ground, raining blows on each other. Finally, Scott got the upper ground. With his left hand on the large man's chest, Scott raised his fist above his head.
"Bang," he said, repeating a favorite line of his teammate's. "You dead." Scott punched the man across the face with the last remainder of his strength. The rapist's head twisted, and he fell unconscious, and Scott fell on top of him—exhausted.
Scott didn't know how long he laid there, struggling for air, but finally he found the strength to move his hands to find the ground and begin lifting himself off of the still form beneath him. He rolled onto his back, and a sharp stab of pain in his side reminded him that he hadn't been entirely successful. He grabbed his ribs on his right side and pulled his shaking fingers to find them wet with blood. The cheap sunglasses were bent and twisted on his face, and Scott, disgusted, pulled them from his face and threw them across the bathroom. Leader of the X-Men, he told himself. Yeah, right. The glasses clattered onto the floor next to the blond woman, who was still lying on the ground, whimpering.
"Are you… okay?" Scott asked, wincing as he raised himself from the floor. Her eyes didn't move. He stepped over to her. "Hey," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, you're going to be alright. You're safe. Hey." He shook her softly, and, finally, her eyes shifted and she looked in Scott's eyes.
She screamed, and Scott flinched instinctively, but then she simply started bawling her eyes out.
"It's okay," Scott said. He tried to calm her by rubbing her shoulder, but she jerked sharply from his touch.
"I have to leave," she said. "I have to get out of here." She started kicking her feet and pushing herself up from the floor.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Scott said. "Just a minute. You can't leave yet." He held her down gently, but she definitely didn't seem to like the idea. "You have to call the police and wait for them."
"No, no, no, no," she said. "I can't do that. What… What if he would wake up?" Her face twisted into tears yet again, and she started scooting herself backwards, farther away from her attacker, until her back was resting against the white-painted cinder blocks that made up the wall of the bathroom.
Scott looked over at the unconscious man. She had a valid point. He walked back over to prostrate form and headed for his feet. The rapist was wearing black work boots. Scott lifted one from the ground and started weaving the long, thin shoe lace free of the metal hooks that held the shoe on the man's ankle. Finally, he got it free enough and pulled it clear of the shoe like a loose thread. He tested the tensile strength of the lace, tugging it with both hands, and decided it would do. Pulling the large man's hands behind his back, Scott began criss-crossing the lace around his wrists and finally tied them in a knot Remy had shown him. By all accounts, it should have held a gorilla, so Scott wasn't too concerned about the man breaking free. To be on the safe side, Scott repeated the efforts by freeing the other shoe lace and tying it tightly around the man's wrists as well.
"There you go," Scott said as he was finishing up. "He won't break free of that."
Just as Scott was pulling his fingers free from the knot, the laces grew taut. He'd made it just in time. The rapist had awoken.