Entry tags:

cyclops, storm

Breakin' It Down: Old School
Who: Cyclops, Storm
When: Thursday, April 30th, 1998 (ages 26/26)
Where: The Danger Room
What: showdown!
Status: complete
Rating: PG

"Scott!" Ororo shouted, pointing with an ungloved hand above Cyclops' right shoulder. A piece of siding from the home they were passing flung by the bespectacled man, who turned just in time to reach the dial on his visor and hit the debris, changing its course.

You are now on opposing sides. A female voice told them calmly via their headsets. The sound of the wind whipping around their heads almost prevented either combatant from hearing the change in orders.

They did hear, however.

A few yards in front of Cyclops, Storm used the artificial weather to her advantage and swept herself up off the ground. Her cape drew taught behind her and she flew overhead, disappearing behind a convenience store.

Out in the street, the rain began to pick up. Thanks, 'Ro. Scott began stalking after the Weather Witch, keeping low to the ground and hand at the ready. "You can get me wet, Storm, but you won't dampen my spirits." He was grinning while he spoke into his mouthpiece.

Ororo rolled her eyes where she squatted in her hiding place, then began moving around the opposite side of the building. She watched from the roof as Scott made for the back of the stores, and smirked to herself. "Hot date?" A gust of wind funneled down the alley and knocked the man on his backside.

OOF! Scott raised his legs immediately, slinging them up above his torso, then whipping them back out to right himself. Once he was standing, he glanced upward, narrowed his eyes in annoyance and let a blast of red light fly through his water-spotted red lens.

Storm's eyes widened at just how quickly Cyclops had discovered her location, and she moved her head just in time to miss the brunt of his blast. Her shoulder took some of it. She dropped to the floor of the rooftop and said, "You're being awfully resilient."

"You were right," his eyes scanned along the edge of the roof. "I do have a hot date." Jean was coming home this weekend. She and Hank were gone often, doing political and medical conferences and the like. He had a big ordeal planned - flowers, candles, a great dinner, a movie... dancing. "Don't give it away," he added, a hint of threat in his tone.

There was a clap of thunder over head, deafening. How dare he accuse her of being a blabbermouth? Another gust of wind went Scott's way and Storm grasped the edges of her cape, then let the wind carry her off the opposite side of the store. She landed in front of a display window, back on the main street. "You're one to talk, Mr. Summers."

He heard the sound of Storm's voice (sassing him) faintly through the wind that whipped over his face and ears. His hair flung limply across his visor and he had to push it back as he made for the exit of the alley. "Why do you say that?" There she was. They were able to see eye-to-eye now. He waved, politely, then let loose with another blast.

Ororo flung herself to the side, then dodged a second blast by dropping herself to the wet pavement, "You and Hank gossip like old hens, is all." Another blast. "Watch it!" Her leg flung out behind her after the beam made contact and she righted herself before walking forward, straight at Scott. "What you need to do is propose, Scott Summers."

She was doing her 'I mean business' walk. Shit. Scott flinched at the words that followed. Oh, God. Proposal? "We've discussed it, you know." He raised his hand again to fire, but a bolt of lightning struck at his feet.

"I do know." Jean had expressed interest in marrying Scott once or twice. Surely the woman was confused as to why she wasn't engaged yet. "She wants you to."

Scott stepped back, rapidly. "You're meddling," the second word was spoken in a sing-song manner that said he had accused Storm of meddling before... She was coming on strong, now. He opted to stand his ground. They could spar it out.

"You're procrastinating," she matched his tone. When Storm reached him, she raised her leg and made a kick at Cyke's left ribs. "I can help you pick out a ring!"

Scott's arm shot up and he blocked the direct hit to his side, then shook his head. "I'll ask when I'm ready, Storm." He let a punch fly, aimed at her right cheek.

BLOCK! "If," grunt, swing, "you wait too much longer, it might not matter." She shot a punch toward Scott's abdomen and stayed low in case he decided to swing again.

"WHAT?" He felt the fist sink into his gut and the suggestion Storm was making at about the same time. His leg went up instinctively and his knee caught Ororo's chin.

Her head flung back and she stumbled before catching her balance. "You heard me."

Cyke's arms moved out and caught Ororo as she righted herself. The rain raged on around them, the wind howling. Debris and larger pieces of detached construction came down the street. His brow knitted behind his ruby-quartz visor and he sighed, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You are on opposing sides.

"Yeah, yeah, we know!" Scott barked to the voice. His grasp on Ororo tightened and he moved to push her backward and knock her down.

She'd taken time to catch her breath as well, and when Scott started in on her again, she was ready. Ororo's legs bent low and she took the pressure of his hands against her shoulders to her advantage, climbing up the front of Scott's legs and torso, then flipping to land a few feet ahead. "You awake?" she called, attempting to read the vacant look behind the quartz. She moved to come at Scott again.

"Yes," this was said through semi-gritted teeth. Storm always did this. It had to be a chick thing, because he and Hank just wailed on each other when they were training. Storm came at him, ready to knock her shoulder into his chest. He angled to deflect the blow and pushed her back again.

When she found her footing, Ororo used the momentum to sling her leg around and roundhouse kick Scott to the jaw. She turned quickly to see the result (which was a white boy on the ground, looking soggy).

Scott felt the pavement hit the back of his head, which, oddly enough, didn't seem to hurt half as bad as Ororo's boot to his face. He still felt as though she'd left footprints up his chest after climbing him. Despite all this, what she was saying was affecting him more. He laid still for several seconds.

Storm quirked an eyebrow at Cyke's lack of tenacity. "K.O.?"

He nodded, and watched as she moved to stand over him, looking annoyingly sympathetic and sweet. Damn it.

Simulation complete.

The room grew still, quiet and a bit less damp. He was on his back on the cool metallic floor of the Danger Room, looking up at Ororo Munroe, who looked like a smug mother, rather than a victorious opponent. Was there much difference, really? "I'll mention it to her."

"Good." A warm reply came, and instead of offering Scott a hand, Ororo stepped over the man and made for the exit with a skip in her step. "Scott? Don't do it this weekend."

"I won't! Geez!" It was like Storm was the mindreader. Living with the both of them was going to kill him, one of these days.