Cyclops: Fear No Gods (Marvel)

Journeys.

The path that was taken to achieve a goal.

The story of an individual from the beginning to the end.

It detailed every step they took, every thought, every feeling, every action and reaction. The obstacles they faced, the challenges they overcame, their defeats and their victories. A journey was the chronicles of a person's life that showed the type of person that they were and what they became.

But often, a chronicle was written, perhaps not by the person themselves, but by those that knew him or even, those that came after and wondered where they came from. Yet what happens when there is no one to write that chronicle nor anyone to come afterwards? To show the type of man that he had been and what he became, what he did in pursuit of his goal, his dream. Who wrote of his deeds, the responsibilities he took upon himself, the consequences of his actions? How was one to know the impossibility of his dream, so simple yet so unreachable and unattainable?

How was anyone to know that despite that impossibility, he had never strayed from the path laid out before him?

How was anyone to know his final moments?

How, even to the very end, when he stood alone, he, Cyclops; Scott Summers did not abandon his goal?

Scott's journey, in the beginning, was well-known, vivid and visceral.

He had been a member of the X-Men, the first of them, the leader that everyone had looked to guide them. As a young man, Scott had been unleashed upon the world, guided down a single path that had no end in sight, no other option or path for him to choose. The burden of that goal weighed upon him, yet Scott continued to power forwards with every step, he marched upon that unending path without hesitation or pause.

A weight that grew as he fought and learned, the weight of his own life and the consequences of his actions, not a thing to take lightly. Every action, every tactic, every moment had to be weighed carefully and often, he did not make the best decision and he felt the burden of those actions upon his shoulders.

As the leader of the X-Men, a new weight was given to him, one far stronger than the weight already there. He had to fight for not only himself but his teammates, his allies, and his friends. The knowledge that a single mistake from him, a single wrong decision could spell chaos for them, and had done so, all of it was crushing.

Yet Scott could not and would not stop.

As the burden of those responsibilities and the weight of his decisions grew heavier and heavier with every step he took, Scott continued to power up the hill and when that hill became a mountain when Scott no longer fought just for the X-Men, but all of mutantkind, Scott continued to march forward. Never ceasing, never hesitating, never stopping, Scott strode forwards unsure where the end would appear, unsure whether the path would crumble away beneath him at any moment.

He just continued to strive forwards.

As allies around him turned their backs to him, becoming his enemies.

As enemies welcomed him with open arms, becoming his allies.

Scott continued to move forwards.

He faced every challenge and foe that came his way without fear because fear was the mind-killer and in order to succeed, Scott knew that his mind would be his greatest weapon. Against humans, mutants, aliens, demons, gods and powerful cosmic entities, Scott powered forwards on an unending campaign as he scaled the sheer cliff towards his goal.

Even as the weights that dragged him down grew heavier and heavier, as the souls of those who had paid the ultimate price for his actions, tried to grasp his body and drag him down with them, as the tidal wave of blood that stained his hands fell upon him, Scott continued to climb higher and higher, an end seemingly in sight, one that none but him could see. All losing hope, abandoning him and the goal they once shared, Scott continued on alone.

But when he reached that end, believing triumphantly that he had finally reached the end, Scott learned soon that those around him had been right. His goal had been a dream, a fleeting impossibility that had been forever out of reach.

His whole life, Scott had continued down this bloody path, climbing upon a mountain of corpses and drowning himself in oceans of blood, all because he had believed it was possible. That it was always just one more push, one more step, one more climb and he would be there, able to grasp the peace he sort.

But it had all been a cruel joke.

Now he stood alone, as the universe around him began to crumble, devoured by the ancient entity that had come from the deepest depths. All had come together in order to stop this being and all had died, except for him. By some cruel twist of fate, when the most powerful of the universe perished in a futile attempt to stop this being, Scott had survived, like a cockroach, not like the mythical beast he had been named after.

He had survived to watch as everything he loved and cherished, perished in the face of this beast's insatiable hunger for death and destruction, unable to stop it, no matter what plans he attempted to use.

The Infinity Stones? Shattered.

The Ultimate Nullifier? Destroyed.

The Heart of the Universe? Devoured.

Cosmic Cubes? Corrupted.

The Black Vortex? Lost.

The Tactigon? Useless.

Every ancient weapon and powerful artefact that the universe had to offer, they had searched for and used against their enemy, but all those plans had ended in failure and the deaths of many more.

Now he stood alone.

The last living being of any kind, facing the greatest evil alone.

But like always, Scott did not hesitate, did not stop, he marched forwards. Each step made the gravel crunch beneath his feet as its large gaping maw opened, ready to devour him and the last planet on its path to destroy the multiverse. All that stood between it and victory, was him, the last Mutant, the last mortal, the last living being.

A mere cockroach who despite all odds, had survived.

Reaching up, he grasped the visor in his hands and pulled it off, letting it fall from his hands, landing on the ground with a thud that rang like thunder in his ear, all the weight upon his shoulders seemingly lifting as Scott stood straight and tall, raising his head into the air. He could feel it, the power within his gaze, it had always been there, had always scared him, what he could do if he did not hold back and decided to unleash everything he had deep inside of him.

But Scott had always held himself back.

Beneath his feet, the ground shifted as if alive, glowing a deep ominous red as the energy within it grow stronger and stronger, just like the power contained within his eyes. Then as, its maw closed around the planet, its power tearing at his skin, Scott opened his eyes with a roar, unleashing every emotion within him.

An eruption of energy burst from his eyes, stronger than anything he had unleashed in the past, he dug deeper and deeper and could feel his skull cracking as he forced as much power out as possible. His roars of anger, rage, hatred, fear and sadness mixed in with the sound of his Optic Blast, the deafening thrum of power.

Then beneath him, the planet erupted outwards also.

An explosion of energy bursts out as the entire universe bled red.

That was the final moment of Scott Summers, the Cyclops, the First X-Man.

Yet he was the man with a plan and while this might be the end for him, there were many universes out there, many different Scott Summers each marching along the same path as he did. Scott knew that they would be sentenced to the same fate as himself, so it was up to him to change things, to give one of them knowledge he needed to make right what he did wrong.