LIGHTNOVELONLINE Arc 1 - Ch 11: Rumble in the Bronx
Chapter 11
Arc 1 - Ch 11: Rumble in the Bronx
Date: Saturday, June 5, 2010.
Location: Bronx, New York
Tyson could feel the tide turning against him as Magneto's attacks intensified. Though he had held his own so far, the writing was on the walls, and it did not bode well.
The clamoring chorus of psyches raged inside Tyson's mind, mixing with all the mental chatter from the people in the area was becoming unbearable. All around him, the train's metal warped and writhed, animated by Magneto's power into tendrils snaking toward him.
The psyches within him reached a unanimous verdict. This train car was a death trap.
He couldn't stay here, not with so much metal at Magneto's command. And his friends were still aboard. If he stayed, he put them at risk as well.
Tyson crouched low, coiling his muscles like springs wound to their limit. With an explosive burst, he launched himself upward with every ounce of his superhuman strength, rocketing out of the opening in the train car's roof toward the open sky above. He seized Jean Grey's telekinetic power, using it to defy gravity's pull before it could drag him back down. The gusting winds whipped through his hair and clothes, as he flew with the power of Jean Grey and his will.
The train rumbled onward without him, leaving Tyson hovering in midair as Magneto followed, rising from the train on currents of magnetic force.
For a moment, hovering in the sky, he felt free. But below, he could see Magneto's swirling metallic tendrils pursuing him skyward like a nest of angry snakes.
Tyson braced himself as the metallic storm surged toward him. Jean's telekinetic power coursed through him, but it was wild and untamed. He had only partial control since she had only ever harnessed a fraction of her full potential. Still, raw psychic energy simmered within, yearning to be unleashed.
As the first razor-edged shards neared him, Tyson thrust his arms forward and unleashed a massive telekinetic wave. The invisible force smashed into the oncoming metal, momentarily halting its advance. But Magneto's will drove the shards onward, refusing to be denied.
Tyson felt the immensity of Jean's gift swirling within him, both empowering and overwhelming. Magneto's decades of experience gave him a decisive edge when it came to control. But Tyson matched it with the strength he borrowed from Jean.
"You can't win this!" Magneto's voice echoed across the distance, brimming with arrogance.
Tyson's face hardened with determination. Playing defense would only delay the inevitable. He needed a new tactic, and fast. Reaching out with his mind, he gripped the swirling metal fragments, struggling to slow their relentless approach. At the same time, he turned his focus toward the ground, seeking a different weapon. Below, the streets were lined with parked cars and sparse trees, all surrounded by gray asphalt. The cars were useless, easy pickings for Magneto's powers. Instead, Tyson seized sections of the road itself, ripping them free and launching the jagged chunks of pavement upward in a furious barrage.
The concrete missiles rocketed toward Magneto. Tyson flung them relentlessly, finally turning his stolen power from defense to offense.
The air crackled with energy as Tyson and Magneto clashed in a spectacular display of power. Jagged chunks of asphalt rocketed through the sky, propelled by Tyson's telekinetic might. Each deadly projectile was met with a shimmering wall of magnetic force as Magneto deflected them with swift gestures.
Tyson allowed himself a fierce grin as one particularly massive slab of concrete narrowly missed his foe. But Magneto quickly regained his composure, bringing his hands together with a look of intense focus. The air around him pulsated and hummed as he summoned a stronger magnetic shield, done with simply blocking each attack.
Noticing the shift in strategy, Tyson began hurling full slabs of asphalt directly at the master of magnetism, testing the enhanced defenses. As expected, they were effortlessly diverted, skimming along the curved surface of Magneto's shield before careening to either side.
Undeterred, Tyson adjusted his tactics, focusing his telekinetic power. With a deep breath, he tore the street below into tiny, granulated fragments, gathering them into a swirling mass overhead. Then with a grunt of exertion, he unleashed them in a widespread volley, the asphalt rocketing forth like pellets from a shotgun. The air was filled with a blurred chaos of high-velocity shrapnel. Magneto's eyes widened briefly in surprise before he whirled his hands, strengthening his shield's spin to deflect the incoming fire. Most of the shards were turned away in puffs of dust and sparks, but a few found their mark, grazing past Magneto's armor and leaving behind scratches and trails of grit.
Magneto's decades of experience gave him an edge, allowing him to wield magnetic forces with practiced finesse. But Tyson's raw psychic might kept the master of magnetism at bay, matching his attacks blow for blow.
"Impressive," Magneto called out mockingly, his voice dripping with contempt. "But how long can you keep this up, boy?"
"You may have the advantage of experience, old man," he shot back, "but I have Mystique's memories. I know why you're so desperate to capture me, to stick me in that machine of yours. That contraption is a death sentence, and I have no intention of letting you put me in it."
He lowered himself onto the nearest rooftop. Without needing to concentrate on levitation, he could bring more power to bear. Reaching out with his telekinesis, he attempted to wrench Magneto's helmet free, to expose his mind. But he lacked the fine control needed for such a maneuver. Magneto's shield held fast, preventing any direct telekinetic strikes.
"If you believe in your cause so deeply then get in the machine and sacrifice yourself," Tyson called out.
Magneto's eyes narrowed, his arrogance finally giving way to anger at this upstart's audacity. "Then who will lead the new mutants?" he sneered.
Tyson knew he couldn't have long left with Jean's power. He had hoped to overpower the master of magnetism quickly, but Magneto had matched him. Without Xavier's mental barriers, Jean's raw psychic energy coursed through him unchecked and he lacked the discipline to control it to the point he could challenge Magneto evenly. Soon the power would fade. He should retreat while he still could. Yet the aggressive, feral part of him howled to kill this old fool who dared hunt him down like an animal. Another voice, calmer but no less firm, whispered that Magneto would never stop pursuing him. And one last voice, more tired than the rest, cried out they just wanted to be left alone.
Tyson's inner turmoil waged on as he continued his relentless psychic barrage against Magneto, bombarding the master of magnetism with wave after crushing wave of telekinetic energy and hurling debris.
With subtle flicks of his fingers, Magneto commandeered the metallic framework of the surrounding buildings. Like liquid metal come to life, the girders and pipes began to slither and crawl down the edifices, guided by Magneto's imperceptible manipulations. The tendrils of metal snaked toward Tyson, creeping up on him from both sides of the street while his attention stayed fixed on trying to shatter Magneto's shields.
Magneto's face was a mask of intense concentration, betraying no hint of the intricate maneuvers happening just out of Tyson's sight. Years of experience allowed the metal-wielder to multitask, dividing his powers between maintaining his protective bubble against Tyson's psychic barrage, and stealthily maneuvering the liquid-metal tendrils into position for a devastating pincer attack. Tyson's senses remained oblivious to the mortal danger coiling around him.
Multiple metal tendrils crept over the edge of the rooftop. Without warning, they shot out from the edge piercing through Tyson's body, causing him to gasp in pain. The element of surprise had been on Magneto's side, and he used it ruthlessly.
Tyson's eyes widened in shock as the cold metal tore through his flesh. The pain was immediate and intense, stealing his breath away. He looked down to see the tendrils protruding from his chest and abdomen, their razor-sharp tips dripping with his blood.
"You should have surrendered when you had the chance," Magneto's voice rang out, tinged with a cruel satisfaction.
Tyson was so focused on his telekinetic assault that he failed to notice Magneto's stealthy maneuver. The metal tendrils began to writhe and twist inside him, sending fresh waves of agony coursing through his body. With a herculean effort, Tyson reached out with his borrowed telekinetic power, attempting to push the metal out of his body. But Magneto's control was absolute, and the tendrils remained firmly in place, their edges sawing at his insides with every movement. Blood began to pool around Tyson's feet, staining the rooftop a dark crimson.
Magneto descended slowly from the night sky, his cape billowing behind him as he hovered just above the rooftop. His eyes gleamed with triumph as he regarded the boy falling to his knees before him.
"I must admit, you've proven to be quite the challenge," Magneto said, his tone almost conversational despite the circumstances. "But in the end, you made a grave mistake when you killed Sabertooth. Had you not been gifted his extraordinary healing abilities, I may have needed to hold back so as not to kill you."
Tyson gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as the metal tendrils twisted deeper into his torso. Blood dripped from his lips, splattering on the concrete below.
"Fear not, you may yet survive the machine and live to see me reshape this world into a mutant utopia," Magneto continued. "Think of it as an opportunity. And if you don't… Well, your sacrifice will help usher in a new age for our kind."
The metal tendrils in his body began to retract, pulling him toward the edge of the rooftop where Magneto hovered. Tyson's feet dragged across the blood-slicked surface as he was inexorably drawn towards his captor. The metal tendrils coiled around him like a constrictor, squeezing tighter and tighter. He struggled against their vice-like grip, but even the strength he had absorbed from Sabertooth could not break him free. Fear and shock widened his eyes as his breaths came in short, strained gasps. Each inhale carried the sharp, metallic scent of his blood.
Despair began to eclipse the pain. The thought of being reduced to a mere power source for his enemy clawed at his mind as fiercely as the metal piercing him tore his body. His fingers twitched weakly in a futile attempt to find some handhold, some small bit of leverage to free himself. But the metal only responded by constricting further, biting deeper into him.
This would not be his end. Raw and all-consuming, the fires of his determination channeled into the remnants of Jean's telepathic abilities.
His eyes, dulled moments before by agony, now glowed.
Blazed.
Every ounce of pain became fuel for one final, desperate act. His scream was a mixture of anguish and fury, that promised untold destruction and used the last bit of breath in his lungs. But it also carried a telepathic pulse so potent it brought everyone nearby to their knees, hands clutched over their ears as a tidal wave of suffering crashed over them.
Tyson focused this energy, this collective pain, directly at his target. He bore down on Magneto's shields with everything he had left, causing the magnetic barriers to fluctuate and warp.
Magneto's expression shifted from triumph to alarm. He responded by squeezing the metal coils around Tyson impossibly tighter. The tendrils morphed further, no longer just ropes threading through the young man.
Hundreds of sharp spikes erupted from the metal.
Metal spikes pierced his flesh eliciting an agonized scream that echoed through the open rooftop. Despite the pain, he refused to give in. Calling on the last remnants of Jean's telepathic power, he battered against Magneto's shields.
Reaching deep within himself, he tapped into a vast, untamed well of psionic energy. With a guttural roar, Tyson focused everything he had into one final psychic assault.
Fiery energy blazed from his eyes.
Unleashing a telepathic blast more powerful than anything he had managed before. The very air rippled with psychic force as he brought his full might down upon Magneto's defenses.
But as Jean's borrowed power rapidly faded, so too did Tyson. A feeling of numbness crept over his tortured body. The agony of his impaled flesh receded, along with his rage and desperation.
As his world dimmed, the last embers of defiance slipped through Tyson's fingers. Darkness encroached on his vision, beckoning him into its cold embrace. He struggled feebly against its pull, but it was no use. With a last gasp of defeat, his eyes closed, and his body went limp.
— Rogue Replacement —
Illyana Rasputin strode purposefully through the halls of Xavier's Institute. Her face was set in a determined frown, blue eyes flashing with annoyance and concern. She'd spent most of the day mulling over her confrontation with Tyson and their battle with Azazel in Limbo the previous day. The memory of it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
As she approached Professor Xavier's office, Illyana couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Throughout the day, she'd sensed Tyson's presence around the institute. She couldn't quite explain why, but she had an inexplicable awareness of his location. That was, until dinner, when she went to confront him and realized that sensation had vanished completely.
She'd scanned the cafeteria, searching for his face among the crowd of students, thinking that her senses were playing tricks on her. His usual table, where he often sat with Jean Grey and Jubilee, was conspicuously empty. Illyana had hesitated, debating whether to check his room. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her.
She'd made her way to the boys' level of the dormitory, knocking on Tyson's door. When no answer came, she used her powers to teleport inside, only to find the room empty. No sign of Tyson, Jean, or Jubilee.
Now, standing before Xavier's office door, Illyana knocked firmly. At the professor's invitation, she entered, her eyes immediately locking onto the wheelchair-bound telepath.
"Professor," Illyana began, her voice tight with barely contained frustration, "I need to know if Tyson's been expelled."
Xavier's brow furrowed slightly at the abrupt question. "Expelled? No, Illyana, I spoke with you all together. No further punishment was given to any of you for your misunderstanding. Why would you think that?"
Illyana crossed her arms, her stance defensive. "He's not in his room, not at dinner. I can't..." She hesitated mentioning that she sensed him earlier and couldn't any longer. "Jean and Jubilee are missing too."
The professor's expression grew serious. He closed his eyes, his fingers pressing against his temples in concentration. Xavier reached out with his powerful telepathic abilities, searching for the missing students. Illyana watched, her impatience growing with each passing second. She could feel the tension building in her shoulders, her fingers twitching with the urge to do something, anything. After what felt like an eternity, Xavier's eyes snapped open. The grave look on his face sent a chill down Illyana's spine.
"Illyana," he said, "please return to your room. Don't worry. I'll find them."
She opened her mouth to protest and demand more information, but Xavier held up a hand to silence her.
"Please," he continued, his tone brooking no argument, "return to your dorm."
Illyana stood there, frustration and impatience brewing within her like a gathering storm. She wanted answers, and needed to know what dire situation had prompted the professor's reaction. But Xavier dismissed her presence, his wrinkled brow and grave tone conveying that his thoughts were already far away and ahead, focused on whatever unseen crisis demanded his attention.
With visible effort, Illyana bit back the torrent of questions poised on her tongue. Whatever was happening, clearly the professor wasn't going to speak on it further. Not now. She could see the tension in his eyes. This was serious. Lives could be at stake.
Clenching her fists, Illyana pivoted sharply and strode from Xavier's office. The door slammed behind her with a resounding thud that echoed down the empty hallway.
As she marched back to her dorm, irritation simmered within her. Whatever was going on didn't involve her. Wasn't her problem. She didn't care what happened to those other students... Tyson with his smug grin that set her teeth on edge, Jean and her insufferable perfection, Jubilee always bouncing around like an over-eager puppy. At least that's what Illyana told herself. But try as she might, she couldn't ignore the cold tendril of dread snaking up her spine. Couldn't forget the look of grim concern that had clouded Xavier's face. Something was very wrong.
Brushing off her thoughts, Illyana buried any of her feelings on the situation underneath layers of outward indifference.
Professor Xavier gathered his team of X-Men. Tyson's absence was alarming enough. But finding that Jean and Jubilee were also missing made the situation far more urgent.
"Tyson is missing," Xavier stated, his tone heavy with worry. "Illyana couldn't find him at dinner, and the other students are not responding to my telepathic calls."
Cyclops adjusted his visor, his jaw set. "Any idea where he might've gone?"
"I'm not certain. But we need to find them and ensure they're safe," Xavier replied. The creases on his forehead deepened as he focused his telepathic abilities.
Colossus clenched his metallic fists, the resounding thud echoing through the room. "We will bring them home," he rumbled.
Logan didn't need any convincing. He'd come of his own volition. He felt a strong connection to the boy after Tyson had revealed so much of his hidden past to him. "Let's move."
As they prepared to depart, Xavier picked up on something through his telepathy. A news broadcast had drawn the attention of several students. He quickly switched it on.
Glimpses of flying debris, a train, and figures battling in the sky as a headline flashed across the bottom of the screen.
'Unknown Mutants Wreak Havoc in the Bronx!'
"That's where he is. Damn, kid's always fighting," Logan grumbled.
Without wasting another second, the X-Men sprinted toward the Blackbird.
— Rogue Replacement —
The Blackbird hovered momentarily before landing with a gentle thud atop the devastated rooftop. As the X-Men disembarked, the full extent of the destruction came into view. The entire block resembled a warzone, littered with rubble and twisted metal. Massive chunks of asphalt had been ripped from the street below, evidence of a titanic battle. At the epicenter lay a sight that froze the heroes in their tracks.
The limp body of Magneto, his leg twisted at an awkward angle. His cape was splayed beneath him, his eyes closed in unconsciousness.
Just a few feet away, a metal cocoon wound tight as a vise, with the unmoving form of a person inside.
"Is that...?" Cyclops began, but Logan's stony expression silenced the question on his lips.
Ororo approached the cocoon, sorrow, and anger warring in her eyes. "It's Tyson," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
Logan's claws sprang forth with a snikt. "We need to get him out. Now."
As Logan's adamantium claws sliced through the metal bonds, he peeled back layer after layer, revealing a horrific sight. The inner coils weren't just wrapped around Tyson, they had been cruelly embedded into his flesh. Thin spikes of metal pierced through his skin at multiple points, anchoring him in place, their sharp tips embedded in muscle and organs.
Cyclops inhaled sharply, hesitation in his voice. "Logan, are you sure we should…"
"We've got no choice!" Logan spat. "We need to get him out of this thing, whatever it takes."
The sight was ghastly. Logan had to summon every ounce of fortitude to keep from recoiling in horror. Each agonizing pull on the cruel spikes was met with a sickening squelch as the metal tore through flesh and muscle. Dark blood pooled around them, turning the scene into something from a gruesome nightmare.
Storm's eyes brimmed with tears, her voice trembling, "Could he survive this?"
Logan grunted jaw clenched with determination as he carefully gripped another spike, using his adamantium claws to delicately slice open a gap around its base. "If he heals like me, he's got a chance," he rasped, though the doubt in his gravelly voice was evident. The boy's injuries went far beyond anything they had ever witnessed.
Colossus walked over to the edge of the rooftop and puked, unable to offer any meaningful assistance. Cyclops barked orders, "Storm, take Colossus and go check the train station for Jean and Jubilee. Search for any damaged train cars."
Each wretched spike Logan removed was a reminder of the depths Magneto would sink to for his cause. "He's just a kid," he muttered through clenched teeth, more to himself than anyone, as he continued his grim task.
The final spike was the most harrowing, lodged precariously close to the boy's heart. Logan inhaled slowly, centering his focus. With utmost care, he maneuvered his claws around the spike's bloodied shaft, never taking his eyes off Tyson's ashen face. Then, in one swift motion, he wrenched it free, holding his breath as he waited desperately for any faint sign of life from the broken form before him.