When Scott Met Annie

Chapter 2: The Leader of Nothing

(Author's note: This chapter and the one after it involves Mr. Sinister, who is known for forced experimentation and other medical horrors. If you can't stomach that, no judgement: Skip to Chapter 4 instead.)

It had been a couple weeks of driving, and the pattern was starting to feel distressingly predictable for every town that Scott drove through. He could stay for a while before someone recognized him, and then it was either deal with law enforcement or leave.

He really hadn't done himself any favors with his most recent campaign, and no matter how much he wanted to go back, to try for more peaceful coexistence, just that much more reason, to just... reset, there was no denying the fact that he was fighting an uphill battle.

He'd cleaned out his accounts and gotten a burner cell phone so that he couldn't be found, but that pattern wasn't going to last if he didn't have a plan.

He had always had a plan.

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked over the map. He'd gone as far as Watson Lake in Canada, and he just seemed to be getting further and further north, not that he was planning to do that either. He was drifting, aimless.

He hated it.

He thought maybe if he could find something a little more stable, someplace he felt comfortable staying he could call up a few people... Kitty was in space, and he wasn't sure about half of the X-Men at the Institute, and he certainly wasn't going to call anyone with Emma, but... there had to be a few people he hadn't alienated.

He didn't know what he'd say. He had a notebook scratched full of possibilities, but none of them were viable. No one would want him leading a team, not after the mess he'd made of things. No one would want him on a team, at this rate.

He just didn't know what to do.

He'd never been this frustrated. Ever since the professor found him, he'd felt like he knew what was right. Knew exactly what he was supposed to do, what was expected of him.

And see where that path had taken him.

He sighed and struck a mark through another couple of cities — the newspapers were reporting some serious anti-mutant sentiment there, and while that was usually something he'd step in... He was honestly starting to feel overwhelmed. No team. No plan. What could he do in the face of all...

He let out a sigh. No, he could do plenty. He was sure it was just the long hours of travel and aimlessness getting to him. Once he found a place to get settled in, to put down roots that lasted longer than a 24-hour motel, he'd be able to get his feet back underneath him.

He scratched through another few notes that he had been making in the edges of his newspaper, his coffee long since cold, when the door chimed, and he looked up to see several policemen walk into the cafe. They didn't sit down to order anything, either, which meant they were there for a reason. And Scott was sure it wasn't anything he'd appreciate.

He left a few bills on the table to pay his tab and slipped out the door, his cap pulled down low over his eyes as he did so. Better to just avoid conflict. For the moment. He was trying not to be the terrorist everyone thought he was, after all. Best to err on the side of caution for at least the next little while.

He thought he saw one of the policemen pause when Scott slipped by, but he made it to his car in the lot without incident, at least. He had just unlocked it when the shadow of someone huge fell over him, and he turned that way completely expecting one of the policemen to have followed him — the big, red-bearded guy that had given him a second glance on passing — only to fall into a huge glare, fists clenched, already grabbing his visor from his glove compartment before he jumped back just in time to avoid the blow that crushed in the door of his car.