<div class="floatleft">(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQIioE4u-I0me3KDOfucVBpF1f96YQ7VumCSQ&amp;usqp=CAU)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Cyclops</strong></span><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Scott Summers<br/><strong>Age:</strong>23<br/><strong>Gender Identity:</strong>Male<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Santa's Workshop?  The Great Room?<br/><strong>Description/Wearing:</strong>colorblind dot ugly Xmas sweater, snug jeans, boots.  His signature visor.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Santa | Nightcrawler<br/><strong> Xmas Music Currently Playing:</strong>Oy To The World (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFLExwIQKto)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Scott had managed to get the sack out of the sleigh as Santa attacked Nightcrawler.  The cracking made him wince.  "Kari, get out of-"  But it wasn't her, thank God, it was a bunch of now broken candy canes and cookies.  But it was her words that seemed to really hurt the old elf.  For a moment, he didn't see a shrinking Santa in front of him but a tall and brawny man in red and blue, with purple skin and a two foot tall mohawk of blue hair that could cut steel.  Gladiator.  Who or whatever this Santa was, he was like Gladiator.  But instead of powered by confidence, he was powered by...Christmas Spirit?<br/><br/>"How could you, Santa?  You're ruining Christmas!"  He took that moment to charge, pulling the sack open and lifting it up, leaping as he intended to bring it down on top of the merry  old elf and trap him in his own bag.  He had to hurry up and finish this so he could find the others and help out with whatever was going on beyond here.  He had to find Jean.  And Rogue.  He still had that special something for her, after all.  Why was that so important to him?  As much or more than surviving this.<br/><br/>He shoved the sack down as much over Santa as he could and turned to bolt out of the workshop.  The elf chihuahuas were coming again and he didn't blast them this time but ran straight at them and leaped, trying to clear the wave of yipping barking beasts and get to the door, "Jean!  Rogue!  I'm coming!"  He hoped anyway.  Buried under tiny dogs and minutely mauled to death would be a bad way to go.  And he wouldn't get to give her the present.