Arc 1 - Ch 11: Rumble in the Bronx

For a novice, Tyson felt he'd held his own. But he was no fool. He could see the writing on the wall; it wasn't promising. The frantic cacophony of emotions echoing in his mind was becoming unbearable. He could feel the metal around him pulsing with the life of Magneto's menacing presence. Making a quick decision, Tyson tightened his grip on Mystique. The safety of his friends and the numerous innocent bystanders drove him to create distance between himself and the rest of the train's passengers. He crouched low, his muscles coiling like springs, ready to release the pent-up energy within them. With a powerful thrust of his legs, he launched himself upward, using every ounce of his superhuman strength to clear the train car as he leaped into the sky.

The train continued forward, leaving behind Tyson, pursued by the hovering Magneto.

With a silent plea, he hoped Jean and Jubilee would be okay. Tyson engaged Jean's telekinesis and continued ascending. The gusty wind whipped around him, tousling his hair and rustling his clothes, but he remained steady, afloat by sheer willpower.

For a moment, Tyson enjoyed floating in the open sky. He'd cleared the buildings. He was flying. There were no hiding places here, no shadows to duck into. Only the blue, purple, and reds of sunset met his gaze. It created the feeling of a vast, empty battlefield. But the moment was broken when he looked down. Tyson could see the city and the glint of the rapidly advancing army of metal. A barrage of metallic tendrils, like writhing serpents, moved toward him. Each metallic fragment glistened ominously under the fading sun. And with it came Magneto.

Bracing himself, Tyson faced the onslaught. He lacked fine control over Jean's power and couldn't fend off all the individual metal tendrils within the train. Now, without having to worry about his friends or the passengers, he could tap into that reservoir of strength and cut loose. Drawing his arms back and then thrusting them forward, Tyson directed a massive wave of telekinetic force straight at the incoming metal storm.

The metal momentarily halted in its tracks, stunned by the sheer force of Tyson's telekinetic push. But as the invisible wave dissipated, the army of jagged shards lunged forward once more, driven by Magneto's indomitable will.

He felt the weight of Jean's telekinesis within him, and for the first time, he recognized the immensity of her gift. She had no training to tame the vast forces he had access to. Magneto's experience overshadowed Tyson's raw, unchecked power.

"For a moment I thought I miscalculated, and you were Azazel. But come boy. You must know, you can't win this!" Magneto's voice echoed in the distance, dripping with a mix of confidence and condescension. Tyson grimaced at the truth in Magneto's words. He couldn't continue on the defensive; the older mutant had proven too adept at controlling the metal around him. Tyson needed a new strategy.

Flexing his mental muscles, Tyson split his focus. One part of his mind reached out, wrapping around the spiraling fragments of metal, attempting to halt or at least slow their advance. The other delved downward, seeking a different weapon. Below, streets held parked cars, sparse trees lining the sidewalks, and copious amounts of gray-black asphalt. Seizing upon this, Tyson tore out chunks of the street, each piece a jagged projectile, launching them with a furious intensity straight at Magneto.

The air was filled with chaos. Sharp fragments of street clashed with whirling metal, creating a spectacular and deadly aerial ballet. Each asphalt projectile Tyson launched was met with Magneto's defensive metallic shield. But the sheer volume and unexpected nature of the attack seemed to catch Magneto off guard. 

As one particularly large chunk of asphalt narrowly missed Magneto, Tyson allowed himself a triumphant smirk. But his victory was short-lived, for the master of magnetism regained his composure. Magneto suddenly brought his hands together. The air shimmered around him as he created a magnetic shield. No longer would he waste energy blocking each projectile; instead, he'd let them come and his shield would deflect them.

Tyson narrowed his eyes, noticing the shift in Magneto's strategy. He started testing the shield by hurling massive slabs of asphalt directly at Magneto. But as expected, the chunks were effortlessly deflected or dodged, merely skimming the surface of the magnetic shield and diverting to either side.

Undeterred, Tyson quickly adjusted his tactic. He envisioned a new type of attack. Focusing his telekinesis, he began shredding the chunks into tinier, more granulated pieces, turning them into a barrage of high-velocity projectiles. With a deep exhale, he gathered them together and then launched them all at once, allowing them to spread out like pellets from a shotgun.

The result was spectacular. The sky was filled with a blur of these asphalt pellets, each one traveling with incredible speed. Magneto's shield deflected most of the attack, but a few found their mark, leaving traces of dust and scratches on his armor. None had the strength to harm him. 

It was evident to both of them. While Magneto had the advantage of experience and mastery over his powers, Tyson had unpredictability and sheer strength.

"Impressive," Magneto called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "But how long can you keep this up?"

"With Sabertooth's stamina and healing, I can keep this up all day. How about you, old man? Think you can match my pace? The better question. Which do you think will last longer? My ability to maintain this fight or Mystique's ability to survive my life drain?" Tyson shouted as he shifted Mystique so that his hand was once again around her face. Making good on his threat.

"It won't be long now. I can feel her waning." His devilish voice echoed between the buildings as he channeled Mystique's acting ability. Tyson had no idea how long it would take to completely drain Mystique. His power gave him no indication if she was genuinely close to death.

For all the raw energy he was expelling in his battle with Magneto, it was this quiet moment, this threat, that held the most weight. Magneto, still shielding himself from Tyson's relentless assault, turned his gaze to where Mystique lay in Tyson's grasp. The fact that she was barely struggling was a clear sign that Tyson wasn't bluffing. The sight of Mystique, one of his most loyal and closest allies, in such a vulnerable state caused a flicker of unease to cross Magneto's eyes.

"Mystique!" he called out, his voice edged with concern. She didn't respond. 

"You may have the advantage of experience," Tyson continued, looking Magneto dead in the eyes, "but I have something you don't. Desperation. I have her memories, I know why you want me. This isn't a recruitment pitch, it's a death sentence."

Magneto's usual air of calm dominance wavered for just a split second. He was used to adversaries trying to get under his skin, but this... this was different. Tyson wasn't just challenging him. He was fighting for survival. 

"Young man," Magneto said, trying to regain his composure. "Let her go. This fight is between you and me."

Tyson's grip on Mystique tightened momentarily, and then, with an abrupt motion, he landed on the nearest rooftop and gently laid her down. She was weak but alive, her breaths shallow. He accessed Mystique's power to return to his normal appearance, so Magneto could look him in his own eyes.

The stalemate between the two mutants thickened the tension in the air. Mystique lay limp. She wore no metal; Magneto had few options to retrieve her, and none that Tyson wouldn't counter easily. Tyson's posture exuded confidence despite the odds stacked against him. His powers granted him great abilities, and right now, he had leverage.

"Leave me free. Let me go," Tyson called out to Magneto, "In return, I'll release her. She'll live. And you? You can chase me down, hunt me to the ends of the earth. And we can have another one of these little dances."

Magneto's eyes, usually so sure and unwavering, narrowed at the younger mutant's audacity. "Or what?" he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain, trying to regain control over the situation.

A smirk crossed Tyson's face as he tightened his grip on Mystique ever so slightly. "Or I drain her dry," he threatened. "I will come for you. And even if I can't win today I'll have her ability. I could be anyone in the world. At best you'll lose track of me for good, at worst I'll come for you. Who knows if Toad is even still alive? If he isn't, you're alone. And I'll be hunting you. You won't even realize it's me until it's too late."

Magneto's usually composed demeanor displayed a hint of concern. The two were at an impasse. Tyson was playing a dangerous game, pushing an adversary to his limits, and Magneto was caught in a rare moment of vulnerability, torn between the safety of a trusted ally and the challenge posed by a young, unpredictable foe.

Tyson's threat was his attempt to escape Magneto. He fought the mutant to a standstill, but it wasn't enough. He knew his time with Jean's power was almost up. He hoped Mystique's ability to bluff would secure his freedom. 

But he made a mistake. 

One that countless before him had fallen victim to. He had given in to the temptation of monologuing.

While Tyson was focused on Magneto, the master of magnetism had been working silently. Streams of liquid-like metal snaked their way up the building facade. It was a move so silent and so swift that Tyson didn't catch a hint of it with his senses or telepathy. As Tyson spoke, thinking he was bartering for his freedom, Magneto acted. 

Without warning, multiple metal tendrils shot out from the surroundings. They pierced through Tyson's body, causing him to gasp in shock and pain. The element of surprise had been on Magneto's side, and he used it ruthlessly. Before Tyson could even process the searing pain or mount any defense, the metal pierced through him completely. He was caught like a fish on a hook. 

Cruelly, the metal continued passing through him and the tip curled then pierced him again as if sowing through Tyson. Again and again, it began to wrap around him. It cocooned him, constricting him tighter and tighter. The strength he'd stolen from Sabertooth could not break the metal vice. His eyes once filled with confidence and defiance, now widened in fear and shock.

Magneto coldly watched the younger mutant struggle feebly. "You're strong," he admitted grudgingly, his voice dripping with both admiration and contempt. "But you're no Azazel, and you're no match for me. You're a mere thief, stealing that which makes others great."

The metal tendrils had ensnared him in an agonizing grasp. Breaths came shallow and strained, and every inhale carried the metallic scent of his blood. While Magneto pierced him repeatedly, Tyson focused on using Mystique's power. Her shapeshifting ability wasn't only skin deep. As the metal drove through him, he quickly shifted his internal organs as best he could to preserve them, moving their position to avoid being punctured or destroyed. 

Despair began to overshadow his pain. He knew Magneto's intentions. In his mind's eye, Tyson could see himself, strapped and powerless, fueling Magneto's machine to convert humans into mutants. The thought of being used, of being reduced to nothing more than a battery, clawed at Tyson's mind. His fingers twitched weakly, trying to reach out to something, anything, that might give him leverage. But the suffocating grip of the metal only tightened, biting deeper into his flesh, reminding him of his impending doom.

Suddenly, something stronger than fear, stronger than despair, surged through him. It was so raw and powerful that it consumed him, channeling into the remnants of Jean's power. His gold eyes which had dulled with pain, now lit up with a fire of defiance. Every ounce of agony he felt, he funneled into one final, desperate act.

A mixture of a scream and a roar emanated from his metal prison. It was a sound of pure anguish using the last of his breath. Accompanied by a telepathic pulse so strong that it brought those nearby to their knees. People clutched their heads, eyes squeezed shut, as a tidal wave of pain washed over them.

Tyson focused this raw energy, this collective suffering, on the one target in his sight: Magneto. An aura of fire erupted around the young mutant as he bore down on the master of magnetism's shields with all he had left. Massive telekinetic forces squeezed on the magnetic barriers causing them to fluctuate.

In response, Magneto's expression changed from one of victory to one of alarm. He retaliated by squeezing the metal coils around Tyson even tighter. The metal needles transformed, no longer just thread that weaved through his body. Now they morphed into hundreds of sharp spikes that punctured skin, muscles, and organs. They bit into Tyson's body, drawing copious amounts of blood and eliciting another gut-wrenching scream from him. 

The image of a flaming bird flashed in his mind's eye. The pressure on Magneto's shields increased as it was squeezed with every ounce of Tyson's will. Every pulse sent a rumble through the world as if there was an earthquake affecting reality itself.

As the last of Jean's borrowed power faded, Tyson's world began to dim. He waned and the world went silent. It was like the city that never sleeps, was finally put to rest. The fight, the pain, the hopelessness — all of it disappeared as the darkness consumed him.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Charles Xavier swiftly gathered his team of X-Men. Illyana Rasputin had gone looking for Tyson at dinner and had come to him when she realized Tyson wasn't in the institute. Her news about Tyson's absence from dinner was alarming enough. But finding Jean and Jubilee we also missing made the situation more pressing.

"Tyson is missing," Xavier stated, his tone heavy with worry. "and his friends are not responding to my telepathic calls."

Cyclops adjusted his visor and looked around. "Any idea where he might've gone?"

"I'm not certain. But we need to find them and ensure they're safe," Xavier replied.

Storm gave a nod. Colossus clenched his fists, the metallic thud echoing over his heavy Russian accent. "We will bring them home."

Logan didn't need any convincing to join the search, he'd come of his own volition. The connection he'd formed with Tyson from the boy having revealed so much of his past, was strong. As they prepared to depart, Xavier held up his hand. He telepathically honed in on something a student elsewhere in the mansion was watching. 

At Xavier's heed, Cyclops turned on the television. A news feed showed chaos in the city. There were glimpses of flying debris, a train roaring by, and silhouettes of figures fighting. The headline screamed, "Mutant Battles Demon in the Bronx!"

"That's gotta be where he is. Kid's always fighting." Logan growled. 

Without wasting another second, the X-Men sped off toward the chaos, the Blackbird jet cutting through the skies.

Arriving at the scene, the jet hovered momentarily before landing on a nearby rooftop. The X-Men swiftly disembarked and headed towards the source of the commotion.

The devastation was immediately evident. The entire rooftop and surrounding block looked like a warzone. Chunks of asphalt, torn from the very street below, were scattered haphazardly, evidence of a fierce battle. Bent, twisted metal snaked around the area, as though a powerful tornado had passed through.

And at the heart of it all was a sight that caused every X-Man to halt in their tracks. A tightly wound cocoon of metal sat in the center, with the still form of what appeared to be a person inside. Just a few feet away lay Magneto. His body was sprawled awkwardly, unconscious or worse.

"Is that...?" Cyclops started, but the grim look on Logan's face stopped him. 

Storm approached the metal cocoon, a sad recognition in her eyes. "It's Tyson," she whispered, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and sorrow.

Logan clenched his fists, his claws emerging with a slick sound. "We need to get him out. Now."

The team quickly converged on the singular goal to free Tyson. Logan approached the metal cocoon. With a determined grunt, he began slicing through the metal coils with precise and swift strokes. But as he peeled back the outer layer, a horrifying sight met their eyes. The innermost coils weren't merely wrapping around Tyson; they were cruelly embedded into his body. Thin metal spikes pierced through his skin and anchored him to the spot, puncturing vital organs and tissues.

Cyclops took a sharp breath, "Logan, are you sure–"

Logan silenced him with a fierce look, "We've got no choice. We have to get him out of this, now."

The sight was ghastly, and it took every ounce of Logan's willpower not to recoil. Each movement, each slight pull on a spike was met with a sickening squelch and the sight of torn flesh. Blood pooled around them, making the scene even more gruesome.

Storm's eyes welled with tears, "Can he survive this?"

Logan grunted as he carefully gripped another spike, using his claws to create a small gap around its base. "If he heals like me, he's got a shot." But the doubt in his voice was evident. The extent of Tyson's injuries was beyond anything they'd seen.

Colossus turned to the side and puked. When he recovered, he stood, frozen, unable to assist in any meaningful way. Scott ordered, "Storm, Colossus, go check the train station for Jean and Jubilee. Look for a damaged train car."

Logan's hands, despite being stained with Tyson's blood, worked with an agility that belied his rugged appearance. Each spike pulled out as much metal as it did pieces of Tyson with it.

"He's just a kid," Logan murmured, almost to himself, as he continued his grim task. The weight of responsibility, the bond he'd formed with Tyson, bore down on him. And in that moment, he wasn't just Wolverine, the fierce mutant with unbreakable claws. He was a guardian, doing everything in his power to save a life that he'd taken as his ward.

The last spike was the hardest, wrapped around Tyson's displaced heart. Taking a deep breath, Logan worked his claws around it. With one swift move, he removed it, holding his breath, waiting for any sign of life from Tyson.