Cyclops: Fear No Gods (Marvel)

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."