Scenario: vs Toad in X-Men 2000

I stepped cautiously through the cold, echoing interior of the Statue of Liberty. My footsteps were measured, but my mind was racing — scanning for signs of movement, danger, anything. The metal groaned overhead, and I could feel the presence of another mutant nearby.

Then he struck.

Toad came at me fast — leaping with impossible speed, tongue snapping, limbs coiling like a spring. I reacted instinctively, throwing out my hand and halting him mid-air with a telekinetic grip.

He twisted, snarling, struggling like an animal in a snare, suspended above the ground by the force of my mind alone. My concentration narrowed. I held him firm, trying to suppress the rising tension in my chest.

"You’re not going anywhere," I hissed, straining to keep him contained.

But then —

In an instant, he jerked his head forward and spat.

I didn’t even have time to flinch.

The impact hit like a slap—warm, wet, sudden. A thick, gelatinous mass struck square across my face, coating my mouth and nose. My breath caught.

I staggered back instinctively, balance thrown. My focus shattered, and with it, my telekinetic grip — Toad dropped from the air like a rock.

But I couldn’t think about him. I couldn’t think at all.

Panic set in immediately. The slime was clinging tight, thick and unyielding. I tried to inhale and got nothing. No air. Just pressure. I reached up with both hands, clawing at the mess, trying to peel it away — but it wouldn’t budge. It felt like rubber cement, sealing tighter the more I touched it.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Every instinct screamed: breathe, breathe — but I couldn’t.

I fell to my knees. My eyes were wide, watering. My lungs burned. My mind, usually sharp and focused, was flooding with static.

I was suffocating.