A fill for a prompt on tumblr's imaginexmen. There will be four chapters, with each chapter being a different prompt fill. I loved them all, so I figured why not? Let's piece them all together! Starring Pietro and my OC, Tesla.I absolutely loved DOFP, and let's just say that Quicksilver gave everyone else a run for their money (no pun intended, haha). Enjoy, and please review!
ps. The titles are based off of the songs that inspired each chapter, just to avoid confusion :)
[[(Prompt: 1) Pietro finding out you're hurt]]
1. A Crippling Blow [[The Killers]]
His mother answered the door in the exact same manner as the last time.
"What's he done now?"
Logan could only blink, eyes glinting hard in the bright rays of the sun, at the exasperated look on the woman's face. It seemed like not much had changed since his last little visit to the Maximoff home. Well, except that Charles and Hank were not present this time. It had been nearly two years since the incident at the White House, and still the Professor's mind was weak with disuse. He'd gotten better with the wheelchair however, much to Hank's relief.
"I just need to talk to him," Logan felt the reverberations of deja vu prickling like an irritating itch in the back of his mind. A heaviness weighted his words, though it went for the most part unaccounted for. Pietro's mother nodded, moving aside to let him inside. He couldn't help but notice the wide berth she gave him as the kid's mother hurried to show him to the basement.
"I know the way," he said. The woman paused, spinning around to eye him suspiciously, the red of her lips crinkling as she pursed them. She looked as if she were about to say something, opening her mouth before shutting it with a frown. Hesitantly she turned around, shouting behind her and she hurried away into what looked to be the kitchen.
"Peter, the cops are here! Again!"
Yep, definitely deja vu.
The basement door was barely cracked open, yet Logan could hear the faint thokthok of a ping pong ball being bashed back and forth rapidly. Despite the seriousness of the news he had volunteered to deliver, Logan couldn't help but roll his eyes. Breaking into the Pentagon sure as hell hadn't slowed Peter's roll for time wasting. Hell, Charles had even offered him room and board at the School a year before its reopening. And here he was, still messing around. Some things never changed. Each step creaked as Logan descended, the old wood whining its incessant protests as his heavy frame moved downwards slowly. Very slowly.
~*~Quicksilver~*~
He'd been there the day Charles had found her with Cerebro, listening as the Professor described what he was seeing, the girl sitting alone in her room lazily swiping through her meager collection of television channels with a single finger held poised in the air.
"She is fascinating," Hank had murmured appreciatively, a phrase that had a quickening of silver and a flitting, mischievous grin dancing across Logan's mind's eye. The words were echoes whose roots reverberated past memories. The day they invited the girl to the School, she had been skeptical to accept. She'd demanded proof, that they were mutants just as she was. She was no idiot. Charles had bemusedly told Logan that she'd nearly electrocuted him after he'd spoken within her mind. It had worked, though. Tesla Anneal had visited Xavier's School one month later for orientation, and it was through the window of an upper room in the mansion that Logan had witnessed the couple's first meeting. Peter was alone- Logan suspected that the kid had had quite the time convincing his mother to let him go by himself. And he hadn't seen a car, either... The kid looked the same as ever, messy silver hair hanging limply about his face, dark eyes scanning the small crowd quickly. Peter was bored, and that, Logan knew, was not good at all. He was just asking for trouble.
Turning on his heel, he had been down the stairs and outdoors so quickly that even Peter would have been impressed. His long strides had him marching across the grounds and over to the small ground just as Peter vanished. Hank, who had been put in charge of the tour, let out a sudden yelp as his pants suddenly flew down, revealing a pair of blue boxers. The crowd roared, some kids doubling over, clutching their sides as they laughed. Logan growled. So did Hank, skin flickering blue for a dangerous moment before reverting.
Tesla wasn't laughing. She was frowning. Extending her hand, she turned, eyes locking onto the black of Peter's Pink Floyd shirt. The silver haired teen was standing towards the back of the group as if he'd never moved, arms crossed, a smug grin plastered on his lips. He caught her staring just as she looked up into his dark eyes, his mouth falling open slightly, silver eyebrows rocketing upwards. For once, Pietro Maximoff wasn't quick enough. The electricity that shot from her fingertips was barely visible. The lightest of blues, it whizzed like needles, rushing noiselessly through the air before they found their mark: Peter's chest. The kid was knocked backwards from the force of the small sparks of electricity, landing with a thud and a huff on his back. The laughter crescendoed. Peter didn't seem to notice. Shaking his head so fast it was a mere blur, he looked up quickly, eyes finding Tesla- or perhaps they'd never left her-, mouth still gaping wide. She glared at him, rolling her eyes, which prompted a brilliantly goofy grin to spread itself like the rising sun across Peter's lips, causing Logan to snort. He'd never thought he'd see the day when Pietro Maximoff was spellbound by a girl, and yet there she was, with a face like a spring dawn and hair so black it looked blue. And the kid was captivated.
~*~Quicksilver~*~
The basement where Peter lived was just as he remembered it. The pong machine sat silent in the corner, surrounded by dozens of boxes of stolen ding dongs and numerous other worthless artifacts the little kleptomaniac had no doubt easily lifted. Peter himself was darting back and forth from one end of the ping pong table to the other, and Logan was sure that if the kid had been moving slow enough for him to catch a glimpse of, he would not have even spared the older mutant with so much as half a glance.
"I was wondering when you'd find your way down here man," Peter was suddenly reclining on the large sofa that rested near the foot of the stairs, silvery eyebrows quirked upwards at Logan as he brought one of the pastries he'd nabbed on his way to the couch up to his lips. "It took you forever," he groaned through a mouthful of food.
Logan sighed, fingers finding their way to his temple. This wasn't going to be easy. Why had he volunteered to do this again? Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, amplified a thousand times over, he knew the answer. The Professor was out of the question, for obvious reasons. And after the many pranks (yes, there was more than one) that had been pulled on Hank while Peter had visited at the School, he had been the indisputable choice. Calling the kid over to the School to explain the situation had been considered, but ultimately decided against. If this operation was to be successful, they needed to act as quickly as possible. And who knew how long Peter would take to show up (maybe after robbing a view convenience stores)... Besides, according to Charles, he had a way with words... and kids, as the Professor had told a dumbfounded Logan before clapping him on the arm and smiling at him in that way that would make anyone more than a little hesitant to refuse. But still...
"Pietro-"
"Peter." The kid cut in annoyedly, frowning as he took in Logan's expression. In a blink he was up, eyes slightly wider than usual as he stared at the man before him. "Is something wrong?"
Logan swallowed. "You could say that."
~*~Quicksilver~*~
According to Charles, Tesla had vanished just over a week ago, right before the start of the new term- the School's grand re-opening. Her mother had been frantic, calling the Professor just hours after her daughter's disappearance. It had taken Charles nearly five days in Cerebro to find her, and when he'd finally resurfaced with her whereabouts, the look in his eyes haunted Logan as much then as it did now.
"They have her."
"Who?" Hank asked quickly. Already he was pacing, nervous.
Charles' lips moved, though no sound came out.
"Who?" Hank's voice was higher this time. "Charles wh-"
"Trask."
The silence was bone deep, shattered only when Logan spoke up.
"But I thought they were shut down."
Charles swallowed. "Evidently not."
~*~Quicksilver~*~
"Dude? Duuude? Wake up man."
Logan blinked. Peter still stood before him, bouncing rapidly on the balls of his feet, his fingers a blur as he drummed them along his leg.
"You're gonna want to sit down, kid." Logan said gruffly, gesturing to the couch. Instead, Peter zipped to the pong machine.
"So what's up? How's the Professor? Aaand Beastie?"
Logan could hear the snicker in the kid's words. His knuckles tightened into fists before he knew what was happening, the veins in his arms standing out. His temple throbbed. This was the problem with Peter. His attention span was just as fast as his feet, and half as nimble it seemed.
"Why are you here anyways? Who died?" Peter chuckled at his own joke, the pong ball dinging back and forth faster and faster. Logan grunted. He didn't have time to make casual banter with an eighteen year old. Not now.
"It's Tesla Anneal."
"Anneal...?" Peter muttered, evidently confused.
"Glitch."
Even after all his time around the little shit, Logan had to admit he'd never seen Peter move so fast. Whipping around, the kid was nothing but silver and wind as he turned to face Logan on his stool. Behind him, the pong ball flashed offscreen, the machine dinging as the game ended. In the back of his mind, the elder of the two mutants couldn't help but notice how the edges of Peter's frame seemed to blur, and it was with a jolt that he realized the kid was vibrating in his sudden onslaught of anxiousness.
"Tes," Peter breathed. "What happened?" He asked, the words spilling from his lips so low and quick that Logan could barely understand him.
Taking hold of the kid's shoulders gently, Logan guided him back onto his stool before turning around, hands going to his hips as he began to pace.
"When's the last time you talked to her?"
"Two weeks ago. She was going on a trip to some lake with her family. Said she would see me at the School when the term began." Peter's eyes lowered, his brows drawing together into such a pained expression of worry that for a moment Logan was at a loss for words. This was going to be harder than he'd expected.
From what he had garnered- with the help of Charles, who would often check in on the soon-to-be-students using Cerebro (Hank had muttered something about the Professor not wanting to lose anyone else, when he had asked why)- Logan was well aware of the relationship that had grown between the two young mutants. According to the Professor, ever since their first meeting in May, the two had been inseparable. Peter had even come up with Tesla's nickname, though Logan secretly thought that 'Glitch' was slightly underrated for someone with so much power. Literally. Granted, according to Charles, much of it was still untapped...
"What's wrong? Is she okay? Has something happened? Where is-"
Logan held up a hand, effectively silencing Peter and his mile a minute barrage of questions. "Just- just listen, okay Peter?"
The younger mutant swallowed visibly, his right leg beginning to jig, faster and faster. Every inch of him was tense, a rubber band stretched taut, just waiting to be snapped.
"What's happened to my girlfriend?" He murmured quietly.
"Do you remember the events that occurred two years ago, at the White House?"
Peter nodded, or at least Logan thought he had. The motion could have been a trick of the light it was so brief. Nevertheless, he pressed on, the words sticking like molten lead to the back of his throat- words he wished he never had to utter clogging his mouth and weighting his tongue. Words that would only bring pain and hurt and sadness.
"The sentinels- the machines that went haywire- they were designed by a corporation known as Trask Industries." Logan paused for a moment. "Now... this same company was also exposed for their experimentation."
"Experimentation? Experimentation on what?" Peter's voice wavered. The kid knew the answer- they both did. It hung in the air before them, unspoken, a penumbra of toxic shade.
Logan shook his head, fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Mutants. It was revealed that Trask had been capturing them, experimenting on them, eventually... killing them... under the guise of innocuous research."
When Peter flinched, the movement laden with shock, it was slow enough, pronounced enough, for Logan to notice.
"They were shut down." The silver haired mutant stated flatly.
"They were."
"But?"
Logan sighed, crossing his arms and moving to turn around. "It seems that that was a front thrown up to fool us. And it worked. I don't think the government is even aware of what's going on, or so Cha- the Professor believes." Logan blinked. Peter had gone very pale, his lips parted slightly as a hushed gasp and exhale ghosted between them. His eyes were wide and unfocused, but swirling in their epicenters was an emotion Logan recognized far quicker than any other. And to say that he was surprised to see true, unbridled fear swirling in the dark pools of Peter Maximoff's dark eyes was likely the largest understatement of his long, long life.
"When?" Peter asked quietly.
Logan frowned. "I beg your pardon, kid. When what?" He'd forgotten how quickly Peter's mind worked. Always twenty steps ahead of anyone.
"When did they take her?!" Peter thundered.
Logan opened his mouth, but before he could so much as utter a syllable, the kid was gone.
Logan whirled around, just barely catching a trail of silver as it brushed past him and up the stairs. A blink, and it was back. Peter's hair was fanned out behind him as he stopped abruptly, a small grey backpack in his left hand. Logan was barely able to spot a pair of what looked like black boxers and a pant leg within before the kid was moving again, flitting about the room and shoving things inside the bag violently.
"Slow d- Peter slow down-"
Suddenly he was up in the air, Peter having knocked him high as he'd run past. Landing with a thud on his side, Logan glared upwards as the kid thrust an entire box of ding dongs into his backpack. Again, he found himself struggling to restrain the bony claws that were just itching to pop from his knuckles.
"What are you doing?"
"Packing," Peter's voice was by his ear. The next instant, the kid was by the sofa, throwing on his trademark silver jacket. Picking himself up, Logan wasted no time in lunging forward, grabbing Peter's arm as quickly as he could. The teen looked down at his hand before his gaze shot upward.
"Let me go."
"Do you plan on infiltrating Trask by yourself?"
"If I have to," He bit back fiercely, his words snarled.
"You don't even know where it is."
Peter's eyes flashed, and for a moment Logan feared he would smack his hand away and disappear. Instead, the silver haired teen wrenched his arm free, turning to shoulder his pack.
"I have to do something." The words were tinged with anger and laced with fear.
"No, no you don't Peter. Not now. Not yet. Just calm down and let me finish-"
"Howcanyousaythat?" In his rage, Peter's words began to blend together, so rapid that they were nearly indistinguishable. "Forallyouknowshecouldbebeingtortured. Shecouldbedead!" He was vibrating so violently Logan could barely make out the words on his shirt. He had to calm the kid down, and quickly.
"She's alive."
"How d'you-"
"Because Charles touched her mind. Using Cerebro-"
"And? What did he find? Where are they holding her? Is she alright?"
Logan sighed. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Remember Hank's tips. Breath, breath... "She's being held in a facility not far from hear. In Virginia." Right under the government's nose.
"But is she hurt?" Peter licked his lips. "Is she okay?" The kid's pleading tone caused Logan to flinch softly, Peter's words nothing more than a hushed whisper.
It unnerved Logan how uncharacteristically sentimental the kid was being. But, he supposed, love could turn even the hardest man, so why not a teenaged mutant with an uncanny ability to steal anything under the sun? The question was, should he tell him? The truth was not pretty- Trask never was one for amiableness. Charles had instructed him to not reveal to Peter the full extent of Tesla's injuries- how she'd been experimented on and tortured for nearly a week, and by the wide-eyed horror that haunted the Professor's gaze, Logan knew that whatever the other mutant had seen, it was bad- until they had returned to the mansion that afternoon. Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably.
"Let's go," he said gruffly.
The meaning was clear enough.
Peter's fingers were trembling, the straps of his backpack quivering as the implication of Logan's ambiguous words sunk in. His face was drawn, melded into a mask of both anger and fear. Yet Logan couldn't help but admire the determination in the kid's tone when he asked, "When do we leave for her?"
"Tonight."
Peter was gone, leaving Logan standing alone in the basement with nothing for company save the metallic clang of the pong machine. Turning to glare at the arcade machine, Logan frowned, eyes hovering over flashing words that lit the tiny screen brightly in a bloody hue of red. Turning on his heel, he followed Peter up the stares, the obnoxiously glowing crimson letters branded into the backs of his eyelids.
Game over.