Title: The Harbinger
Author: thefanficmistress
Author's notes: This is the second snippet in the same series set years later. Once again it's a confrontation between Wolverine and Cyclops but the tables have turned.
Chapter 2:
This was it. The keloid wound on his chest itched with anticipation. He scrubbed his dirty hands over his red rimmed eyes and then replaced his sunglasses with his battle visor. His ruby sight matched his deadly intent. His breath billowed from his mouth like smolder from a smokestack. The night was cold but surprisingly still and he could only hold the weather witch accountable for that. A tree smoldered black and dead to his left, hit by a stray lightening strike from Storm. It's now leafless branches stretched out boney and twisted like a witch's wiry fingers. The air still crackled with electrical charge. A figure, slumped and lame, stumbled ahead. Wheezing and sputtering with an uneven gait the man disappeared into a run down building at the end of the street.
"Head back to the blackbird Storm. I've got this from here." He spoke solidly. The muscles in his jaw clinched and unclenched as he stared straight ahead. The cold leather of his gloves crackled as he bunched his fists.
"Scott…" She started, lifting her hand to rest it on his shoulder but she hesitated. She watched the thick clump of muscle that was his shoulders bunch with irritation.
"That's an order Storm, You've done your part." He quickly dismissed her. He stepped away leaving Storm in his wake. His steps were determined and his stride was long. The deep scar tissue on his chest felt tight and almost suffocating. His scar seemed to scream for retribution, seemed to need it or it would swallow him whole. He walked until the building came into view. Tall, dark and isolated at the end of the street. The street was still and no one was present, almost like a ghost town from the old, old west.
His steps weren't cautious, not in the slightest. He had the upper hand, he had the power and he would get his revenge and he was drunk with the feeling. He entered the small building and immediately his ears picked up a sound he hadn't expected. The hushed snivel of a child drifted down the stairs. He balled his fists and pressed on. His hand poised at his visor. The stairs squealed and moaned with each step he took. The eerie wailing grew closer and closer as he ascended the stairs. He reached the top landing and found the rooms dark and lifeless except for one. With a soft yellow glowing underneath the door he could hear whispers coming from the room at the end of the hall. A voice he didn't recognize murmuring in a small pleading voice. He didn't hesitate. This is what he waited all these years for. With a swift kick the hinges snapped and the door caved inward falling with a boom to the dusty wooden planks. He stood immobile in the door way. His face creased in a frown and his chin poised high and mighty. The smell of burned flesh filled his nostril, acrid and acidic, making his eyes water and his stomach lurch. Quivering orbs filled to the brim with tears stared back at him. Pink lips quivered and rosy cheeks bunched up with dread at his sudden entrance.
"No!" The child screamed, throwing his tiny arms around the putrid mess of a man on the floor. Scott let his eyes rack across the scene. The blacked flesh of the man lying splayed across the dilapidated floor boards stood out grossly against the pale pink of the young boy's skin. His wounds looked angry and oozed sluggishly. The irregular rhythm of his lungs filling and releasing filled the silence and his throat whistling with each exhale rung in his ears. Storm had certainly given him a lightening strike he would never forget. A bag laid haphazardly by the boy's side with all its contents poured out around him. A box of band-aids lay on the boys lap. It was almost amusing, band-aids to cover such vile wounds.
"Logan, get up and face me." Cyclops spat but he didn't respond, his chest just rising and falling, sometimes with far too much time in-between. The boy's eyes never wavered from Cyclops' ruby visor. He shook like a leaf and his tears fell on Logan's deeply charred face like a leaky faucet. Scott took a step forward and the boy shouted again.
"Leave him alone!" He blurted and then stood. Fists balled tight, his teeth exposed like a tiny feral animal but his eyes were wide and fearful like skittish prey.
"Who…Who is the harbinger of death this time?" The voice stuttered and rasped from the floor, gurgling and wet. The boy stood his ground, seeming to mimic Logan to a laughable degree. The show of strength was so ludicrous coming from something so small and utterly defenseless yet his defiance touched something in Scott he had forgotten he had.
"Aden…Hide where I told ya. Hurry…" Logan muttered and the boy hesitated but seemed to understand the situation enough to listen. He hurried from the room and his choppy footsteps quickly fell away. Scott watched him go and even though his mission was simply to catch the boy and bring him to Xavier he couldn't pass up the steaming pile of smoldering revenge laid out so perfectly before him like a thanksgiving spread. The corner of his lips turned up slightly as he approached Logan but just as suddenly as the slightest of smiles captured his lips his features fell into a precarious frown.
"You stole everything from me…" He began while circling Logan to drink in his condition.
"I died that night. Face down in blood and dirt and filth." He continued. He reached up to his visor, adjusting the setting high enough to rip the man asunder.
"Do you know what I had to go through? What they had to do to bring me back!?" He hissed. With one hand rubbing the throbbing scar under his thick leather suit he turned his attention to his reflection in the dingy window. He was pale, ghostly even and his skin was always cold and clammy to the touch. Even in the heat of the room his breath rolled out cold like on a frigid winter morning.
"I don't belong here anymore…I was meant to die that day. I'm a man with no meaning, no purpose. An abomination that's over stayed his welcome!" He yelled and Logan didn't respond. His wounds were healing and Scott knew he didn't have much time before the man was back on his feet.
"Dead and detached yet still in this world." He muttered. His finger lay against the button on his visor. He was ready to completely obliterate this man, take his life and then bring the boy to Xavier. Hopefully then he could reclaim his dignity and hopefully then he could have his right to die.
"Kill me but leave the boy…" Logan grunted. His nostrils flared and recognition returned to his eyes.
"You know I can't do that. You know I won't do that." Scott said bluntly. A dangerous glow erupted from behind his visor, hot and forceful and demanding. His finger depressed the button on his visor and instantaneously the shutter opened, releasing the red death that severed everything in its path. The blast was far too loud for him to hear the boy scream from the door way.
Author's note: I decided to make a second snippet within the same series to show another stand off between these two characters. In the first snippet I gave wolverine the advantage. The small cave and dim lighting made it difficult for Cyclops to see and use long range attacks and rendered him almost helpless. This time around I want Cyclops to be more in control of the situation. Tell me what you think.
I'll also be adding one more snippet to this. I didn't mean for this to be a story…but I think to complete it, it needs one more entry.