Disclaimer: All the X—Men characters belong to Marvel Entertainment
John Allerdyce never fit in with the X—Men. He hated having to suppress his power and only use it when necessary. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters taught him control, or at least, it was supposed to.
Ever since he'd blown up that police car at Bobby's house — no, ever since he'd met Magneto in the X—Jet, something in him had changed. His eyes were finally open to what being a mutant was all about; it wasn't about hiding and blending in with the humans, it was about conquering the world.
Granted, leaving behind his friends sucked, even though Bobby and Rogue probably wouldn't care. John never dared to miss that godforsaken school.
"What are you thinking about, Pyro?" Magneto asked, taking a seat next to the boy on the stolen aircraft.
Pyro. John would have to become accustom to the new name, seeing as Magneto would never call him anything else. A small smile crossed the pyrokinetic's chapped lips as he flicked open his shark Zippo.
Magneto moved his fingers slightly, lifting Pyro's lighter inches above his hand. "I hope you don't regret your decision to come with us."
"Absolutely not." John replied rather quickly, snatching his Zippo from the air. He pressed his thumb against the striker, a small flame dancing at his command. "Where are we going anyway?"
Magneto chuckled, his form of an answer.
The surprisingly smooth helicopter ride took hours. After being airborne with Storm and the rest of the crew for the past few days, John couldn't wait to get his feet on solid ground and keep them there. His starving stomach lurched at the sudden landing. His window revealed a lackluster building, off the coast of some unknown island. Magneto went to great lengths to keep the location of his home off the map.
"This is it?" John snickered, stepping out of the helicopter and onto the damp walkway leading to Magneto's lair. A gust of cold air hit him immediately; his body involuntarily shivered. If it weren't for Stryker's attack on the mansion during the middle of the night, he would've been able to grab some decent clothes. The young mutant was still in his black jogging pants and thin, gray, long sleeved shirt. Luckily, he'd borrowed a jacket from the X—Jet, although the azure X—Men emblem on the left sleeve reminded him of everyone he'd left behind.
A musky smell consumed John's nostrils and he sneezed because of it. "It's a little dark, don't ya think?" The body of water around the building made the pyrokinetic uncomfortable.
Magneto didn't have time to chat; he ignored Pyro and walked inside, leaving Mystique to catch up their newest recruit.
"It's not as comfortable as Xavier's mansion, but you're always free to use your powers here." Mystique's unnatural voice somehow set John at ease. She smiled vaguely, then motioned for the teenager to follow as she entered the metal building.
"Oh really?" The goose bumps covering his arms faded the second he stepped into the steel chamber. Pyro clicked his lighter open and closed continuously, a habit he'd never be able to kick.
"I'm not entirely sure why you chose to come with us." Mystique remarked, leading John through a series of empty hallways.
Good question. Pyro opened his mouth to explain, then decided to change the subject. "So why doesn't Magneto hire a decorator? This place could use a little sprucing up—" Mystique rolled her yellow eyes, pointing to a metal, spiral staircase. "Don'tcha think?"
"The upper level is mostly used for containment, you'll find a spare room somewhere on one of the low levels."
"You want me to go down there?" Pyro joined her in pointing. "By myself?"
Mystique blinked. "You're gonna be a pain in my ass, aren't you?" Her hand dropped from the air and landed on her hip, unamused.
There was no point in lying. "Probably." John chuckled, keeping his laughter to a minimum around the blue mutant.
The woman sighed, murmuring profanities under her breath while descending down the stairs. "You can explore all you want, there's not much here. Magneto likes to keep as much attention off this place as possible."
The two stood in a drab steel room with various out—of—date exercise machines and a small TV mounted to the ceiling. "So a decorator's out of the question?" Pyro opened his lighter once again, the incessant clinking noise driving Mystique to the brink of insanity.
She thought a while before finally responding, "Yes, a decorator is very much, out of the question."
"Pyro, come with me." Magneto's voice, from behind them, broke the tension radiating through the walls. The pyrokinetic did as he was told, trailing behind his new leader. "You can sleep here." John smirked at Magneto's monotone voice.
"Fancy." The mutant shook his head at the bleak room that could've been designed by a prisoner, only without the urinal in the corner. Then again, the runway wouldn't complain about a roof over his head.
As Magneto turned to leave, Pyro stepped towards him. "Wait..." Magneto turned his head slightly, viewing the boy out of his peripheral vision. "Thank you." John had never been good at expressing his feelings or anything of the sort. He stood, half in the room which he would now call his, and half in the echoing corridor, his grayish—blue eyes shimmering under the fluorescent lighting.
Magneto's jaw hardened as if he were about to speak. However, as the angsty teen's gaze met his, he realized he had no words. With a quick nod, Magneto disappeared into the darkness at the end of the hall.
You are a god among insects, never let anyone tell you different. Magneto's words replayed themselves inside John's head. That is, until he crawled into his new bed and drifted to sleep.