William Stryker sat at his desk, slowly flicking through each frame of security footage his team had been able to get their hands on, desperate to find one that showed a clear image of his target's face. No one had been able to present a description of the boy. No one but the guard who had been taped onto the wall inside the lift the day that the mutant terrorist Erik Lehnsherr had been broken out of what was supposed to be the most secure building on the planet, the Pentagon. So much for that then. But it only furthered his beliefs that mutants could not be trusted to roam the world unchecked, that kid could end up breaking any number of high calibre criminals out of jail and Lehnsherr, well, he had almost made history as the first man to assassinate not one but two Presidents of the United States. Though he knew that he should be thankful that the blue shapeshifting woman known as Mystique had stepped up pretending to be President Nixon, he wasn't. She could easily walk into the Oval Office at any moment and order a nuclear strike if she felt like it. She could initiate World War 3 if she so happened to be in the mood. She could infiltrate military bases and bring the country to its knees if she had the urge… no, none of them could be trusted. No mutant, no matter how good its intentions were, could be allowed to roam as a free agent. They had to either turn themselves in, or join his efforts. Even he had to admit that having mutants on his side would only help him. Magneto could easily render all enemy weapons useless. Mystique could infiltrate countless enemy bases. The speedster kid could take out dozens of hostiles within a second. Yeah, he needed them on his side. However, the hard part would be to find them. Magneto had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth and Mystique had managed to effortlessly disappear into the crowds. Hence why Stryker had decided to focus his efforts on finding the speedster kid.
He grinned to himself once he'd found an, albeit blurred, image of the boy's face. On its own it wouldn't do to find him but with the sketch provided by the sketch artist he'd gotten to speak to the guard who had been attacked by the kid, it was more than enough. He scanned the sketch into the system he'd had developed and set the computer to scan through all known databases to find someone whose picture matched both images. The machine whirred thoughtfully and Stryker rolled away from the desk before standing up to fetch himself yet another mug of coffee. A young soldier quickly bustled into the room without knocking and looked sheepishly up at his commander who simply raised an eyebrow at the abrupt interruption.
"Magneto's back in the country, Sir." the young soldier said formally.
"That's all? You don't have anything a little more specific?" Stryker asked, evidently displeased.
"I'm sorry, Sir. But we're working on determining his precise location as we speak."
"Well get back to it then. Dismissed." Stryker instructed and turned away from the young soldier who quickly darted back out of the door, relieved to be dismissed from Stryker's company.
The computer bleeped at him a while later and he was instantly back in his seat looking at the screen. Three matches had been found for the boy he was searching for. It was obvious which one it was. The other two boys were both blonde and had less defined features than those that the ambushed guard had described to the sketch artist. He clicked on the remaining one, a sense of victory washing over him. The image moved to the left hand side of the screen as the images of the other two matches faded out of sight. Information popped up to the right of the boy including his name, age, address and criminal record. Well, it wasn't so much a record, per say, it was more a very long list of accusations against the boy for theft that had never been proven. He smirked to himself as he scrolled down the extensive list of accusations. There was quite the range he had to admit, from petty theft to stealing televisions to stealing arcade games to two bank robberies. He shook his head in disbelief, mentally adding "breaking into the fucking Pentagon and breaking out a goddamn terrorist" to the list. Stryker quickly jotted down the address of the boy and slipped the paper into his pocket before printing out the photo and stuffing that too into his breast pocket. He quickly shut the computer down and pulled on his jacket before radioing to his troops to be ready by the time he was in the parking bay.
"I'll be seeing you soon, Peter Maximoff." he thought to himself as a smirk crossed his face, "You can't run from me."
Peter was asleep when Stryker and his team dropped by. The clock by his bed slowly ticked on into the wee hours of the morning as the kleptomaniac lay there drooling in a deep sleep.
One unit stole around to the other side of the house, glancing into each window so as to establish which room the boy would be sleeping in. The unit leader was almost ready to call it quits, they hadn't found any evidence of any room in the house belonging to a teenage boy, let alone see the kid themselves. As they slowly rounded the corner and started to creep around the other side of the house the unit leader, Higgins, noticed a small patch of light pouring out onto the grass by the side of the house, he crouched down onto his knees and peered carefully into the window and there he was. The silver-haired teenager dozing in his bed surrounded by piles of items that he almost certainly hadn't paid for.
"We got him. He's in the basement." Higgins radioed over to Stryker and the second unit, "What are my orders, Sir?"
"Gas masks on boys," Stryker replied, "I highly doubt Maximoff will sleep through being carried out without a little incentive. Unit two, go in through the front door and secure the basement door, we don't want him running out on us now do we boys?"
"No, Sir." came the crackly response through the radio.
"Higgins, take your boys and drop a canister into the mother's room and the sister's room. We can't have them waking up on us. Then drop one into the boy's room. Radio back when complete."
"Yes, Sir." Higgins replied and motioned for four of his boys to pry open the bedroom windows of the mother and the sister and drop the canisters inside.
"In position." said the leader of Unit Two, Merriot.
After receiving a nod from the rest of his team, confirming that the mother and sister had been taken care of Higgins radioed in to let Stryker and the rest of Unit Two know that they now wouldn't awake for a good twenty-four hours at least.
"Dropping it into the boy's room now, Sir." Higgins said into his radio as he pulled the window open slightly and dropped the canister in through the gap. Peter stirred the second he heard the metal canister touch the floor and was out of bed as fast as lightning, he looked up to his window just in time to see it being closed by a pair of gloved hands. He ran to the window, climbing up onto a pile of boxes of sweets to gain better access. Peter shoved against the window, trying to force it open against the hands of the men outside, he tried for a good second before zipping over towards the door only to find that it too refused to budge. Gas had started to leak from within the canister causing a slight panic to set in.
"What the hell?!" he yelled charging at the door once more but, like before, it didn't budge, "What's going on?" he asked glancing about wildly for another way out as the white fog slowly began to fill the whole room. Higgins watched through the window as the kid sped around the room in a streak of silver. Before he knew it Peter's face was pressed up against the glass right in front of his own, "Get out of the fucking way and let me the fuck out!" Peter yelled trying to sound threatening but already feeling much weaker than he had a moment ago. The gas was filling the room as he ran to and fro, trying to batter his way out of the room, "Muuuuuuuum!" he yelled, pounding on the door, where was she? Couldn't she hear the commotion that he was causing. Peter strained to stay conscious as the cloud filled the entire room, but his battle was short lived. The speedster lost consciousness by his bedroom door and tumbled unceremoniously backwards to the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
Stryker heard the thud from outside the door and quickly ordered his men to open the door. He made sure his gas mask was on correctly before walking calmly down the steps towards the unconscious teenager on the floor. The room was filled with white fog, making it almost impossible to see where he was going. "Open the windows Higgins, let's let out some of this gas so we can see what we're doing." he ordered into his radio and soon the fog began to clear from the room. "Get Unit One to ready the cars Higgins." Stryker ordered as he motioned for the rest of Unit Two to follow him inside.
"This him then?" Merriot asked through his gas mask, looking down at the kid as the fog began to clear.
"This is him." Stryker nodded with a satisfied grin which was hidden from view by the mask, "Take him out boys. Wouldn't want him waking up while we're stood here staring."
"Yes, Sir." Four soldiers nodded and between them they picked up the boy before carrying him up the stairs and out of the house towards the Jeep.
"Secure his hands and feet and put him in the trunk." Stryker instructed as he emerged from the Maximoff home, "I want to be back at the facility by daybreak." He climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep as the Maximoff boy was bundled hastily into the trunk.
Within seconds the vehicles were tearing off down the quiet suburban road towards the edge of the city with Peter Maximoff in the back of the Jeep, wrists and ankles cuffed together.
Peter came to five hours later, groggy and frowning with his head pulsing incessantly. "The fuck…?" he groaned as he tried to move his arms only to find that they were trapped behind his back. He went to try and move his legs only to be faced with the same problem. Gradually his head stopped swimming and he became able to focus on the groaning noise that had assaulted his ears since the second he woke up. It wasn't a groan, he realised, but the rumble of an engine. He was in the fucking trunk of a car wasn't he? Peter groaned, letting his head rest back against the floor as the events of last night came begrudgingly back to him. The gas… being trapped in his room… calling for this mother. His mother! Where was she? Was she okay? Peter began to breath heavily, had they gotten her too? And what about his kid sister? Where was she? He began to kick out with his bound feet against every surface he came into contact with. "Let me out you sick fucks!" he yelled, pounding against the roof of his prison, "What the hell do you want?"
From within the cab of the Jeep Higgins looked over at Stryker, "I hadn't imaged he would wake up so soon. That gas was supposed to knock him out for twenty-four hours wasn't it?" he asked his superior.
"It was." Stryker nodded, glancing out at the open road, he'd thought it might wear off more quickly with this kid but he hadn't imagined it to happen so soon. The Maximoff kid was more impressive than he'd originally thought, he had to give the boy credit.
The speed of Peter's kicking increased, once he'd realised that the people who'd taken him seemed intent on ignoring him, until his legs were a blur, pounding against the roof and creating dent after dent in the cold metal. Suddenly he heard a click, something was beginning to give. A grin spread across his face and he increased the speed at which he was hammering against the roof of his cage. Suddenly, the roof flew off and bright daylight assaulted his eyes. He then realised that he hadn't thought any of this through, he couldn't run with his ankles cuffed together. But what other choice did he have? Before the lid of the trunk had even hit the ground Peter had rolled out of the truck and into a ditch to avoid being crushed beneath the tires of the military van that had been following behind the Jeep. Stryker's Jeep came to a screeching halt as Peter scrambled to get to his feet. The soldiers were already out the car by the time he had managed to and were on him within seconds, he'd barely been able to jump a few metres before he was being crushed into the grass by the weight of two soldiers. He thrashed about wildly, feet connecting with one of their noses with a satisfying crunch. As a third soldier approached he realised that maybe his little escape plan hadn't been the best idea, the third soldier had in his hand a syringe filled with a clear liquid.
"Hold his head down." the third soldier instructed.
"Don't you dare come near me with that thing or I will rip your bleeding head off with my own fists do you hear me I will kick your ass so hard you can't sit for half a fucking year." Peter rattled off in one breath, trying to sound threatening to mask his fear. As the soldier crouched down beside him he was a thrashing blur, the other two soldiers were finding it increasingly difficult to keep him pinned on the ground.
"Sir?" the third soldier asked looking up to his boss unsure what to do, "I can't do it if he won't keep still.
"Damn right you won't do it because if there's one thing I can't do it's keep still." Peter snapped, still trying to shake off the soldiers in a blur of movement.
Stryker frowned and walked calmly down the incline into the ditch where his men were wrestling with his captive, "Peter if you don't stop moving now, I will send my men back to your house to kill your mother and sister."
It worked. Peter froze, "Don't you fucking touch them or I swear I will -"
He was cut off by Stryker as the man continued his speech, "Now, if you'd be so kind as to get in the car I'll even spare you the injection, so long as you behave, that is. If you don't, well, I know where to find your family."
"If you hadn't noticed I can't exactly get into your bleeping car myself." Peter huffed resignedly, face still pressed into the dirt.
Stryker nodded to his men and they got off the boy, Peter sucked in a huge breath as the weight was lifted from his lungs before he realised what they were about to do.
"Put me down!" he yelled as the men lifted him up, one held him up by the armpits, the other by his feet.
"Struggle and you get this in the neck along with your mother's dead body thrown onto the floor in front of you." Stryker said with eerie calm, that quickly shut Peter up.
"Put him on the floor between the seats. You two, ride with Merriot."
There was a chorus of "Yes, Sir."'s as Peter was manhandled into the gap between the front and back seats of Stryker's Jeep. One soldier climbed into the back with him, sitting by his feet. While the others climbed back into their respective vehicles and they were tearing off down the road once again, roof of the trunk of the Jeep lying forgotten by the side of the road.
"You gonna tell me who you are or am I just going to have to make it up?" Peter asked after five minutes of silence as the parade drove towards Stryker's facility, "Shit face? Dick brain? Mommy's little princess? American Hitler?"
Stryker turned around to face him, "Shut your face, brat, or I'll gag you with your own socks."
"Alright, alright, didn't mean to get your knickers in a twist…" Peter began and noticed the name sewed onto Stryker's uniform, "Stryker? That's not a name. It's a shit name if it is one. Did you pick it yourself or did your shit for brains father pick it out for you? I think Asshole would be a more fitting surname don't you?" he asked with a cocky grin.
"Merriot, take your team and slaughter his mother and sister." Stryker said calmly into his radio.
"No no no wait!" Peter exclaimed desperately, "Please man, I'm sorry. I'll shut up. Gag me with my own shirt or whatever you psychofreaks do just leave them alone!"
Stryker showed no indication of taking the order back, rather, he simply smirked at the trussed up kid in the back of his Jeep.
"Please." Peter begged, "Please I'll do whatever you want just leave them out of it."
Stryker turned away from him and Peter's eyes widened in panic before he saw him reach for his radio and call in, "Scratch that. Carry on with your original orders."
Peter sighed in relief, resting his head back against the door, they were going to be okay. They weren't in any danger so long as he did what he was told. Although, that didn't sound like much fun either.
So I know I haven't updated Herr Doctor or Escape the Smithsonian in months or something ridiculous like that. And I am extremely sorry, but I just finished my exams and I took my laptop (where I was writing both those stories) to get repaired as I couldn't very well do it in the midst of exams. As soon as I get it back (which should hopefully be next week) I can continue to write and I promise you I will not give up on either of those stories.
But for now, I hope you enjoy this. Sorry about any spelling mistakes you may encounter because I typed this up on my brother's tablet in the middle of the night when he was asleep.
Also, the usual disclaimer applies, the characters you recognise are not owned by me, I'm just having a little fun with them for a bit.
Until the next time (which hopefully this time won't be too far away) and I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to drop me a comment if you did, you have no idea how happy they make me.
