Life was a Bitch, Death was a bigger Bitch, and Fate was the biggest Bitch in the history of everything. Seemed I was always going to end up in Hell, sure I had a fairly peaceful life before being dumped back into Hell, but still, I was seriously getting pissed off with the number of lives I was living.

You think its fun being reborn into one of your favourite books, movies, games and so on? Then I have only one thing to say to you. You are an idiot.

It's scary, life-threating, mentally-scarring and horrifying. Something I learnt the first time round.

My third life was mostly peaceful (I finally got my real pokémon) and for some reason I disliked it because it was peaceful. The ten-odd years I had of my second life had gotten me used to danger, to the thrill of battle and sure you got to see pokémon battles (which was epic) but the criminals were idiots and most of the people were horribly cheerful and nice.

Cheerful people always annoyed me for some reason—it was a trait that I shared with my mum.

My fourth life I hear you ask? Well it had just really started, but I can already tell that it's going to be much like my second one. However long that was.

I hate Nazis by the way.

She hated crying. It didn't matter if she was crying, someone else was crying, watching someone cry or just listening to someone crying, she hated it all the same.

The crying of women who knew they were going to die, the confused crying of children as their mothers held them tightly and rocked them. That was the worse type of crying that she had ever heard and she hoped she would never hear it again, though she doubted she would get her silent wish.

She leaned back against the wall, not even concerned about the fact that she was completely naked, and watched as one of the women beat at the locked door of the 'shower' chamber as she screamed for mercy in German or Polish—did the Polish have their own language or did they speak German as well?

Nazis didn't give any mercy to anyone.

There was an elderly woman next to her whom she had helped take a seat as the elder woman struggled, and their bare shoulders brushed against each other as they watched the scene unfold.

She wasn't crying. She stared hard-eyed at the panicked pack of women and children that were packed tightly together. The old crone was a strong woman, she didn't fear the death that they all knew was coming and that earned her respect.

She reached out and held the woman's old wrinkled and gnarled hand and the elderly woman gave her a tight smile. It was amazing how pale and smooth her hand looked like against the other woman's hand, but then again she thought she was a lot younger than the woman (roughly around her mid-teens).

And she was about to die already, again.

It was then the gas began to pour down the 'shower' heads and the screaming began as thick acrid black smoke rushed in and blinded everyone as they began to scream, to cry harder, to beat their bodies against the walls as the poisonous gas burnt them red as blisters swelled on skin, making breath seize in their chests, gas choking them to a painful death.

Well everyone apart from her.

Being gassed wasn't fun, it hurt and blinded me as well as choking me. But I once had my whole face melted off so it wasn't the worst pain I had ever felt in my lives.

Watching the blisters on my arms heal over and over again was interesting and almost comforting—I had missed having my healing ability in my second life when I was being fired by Thunderbolts and set on fire by Flamethrowers because pokémon had strange ways of show affection sometimes.

I guess I was a mutant now as I naturally and rapidly healing—basically regenerative healing abilities so I was basically the Cheerleader from Heroes.

(Only I wasn't really blonde—my new shade of hair was either a light brunette or dark blonde—and so wasn't a Cheerleader. I never wanted to be popular anyway)

Still, the worse thing about being in a Nazi gas chamber? The screams and the cries of the others who were actually dying.

"—sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-eight bottles of beer, you take one down and pass it around," she sung loudly as she caught sight of another one of the Nazi guards peer through a slit in the door. "Sixty-seven bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-seven bottles of beer, you take one down and pass it around."

They had been peering at her since they slid open the door and realised that one of the supposedly dead prisoners was actually still alive and perfectly fine despite being surrounded by nude dead bodies. It had freaked them out and she had never seen an iron door close so fast in her lives.

Truly, she had gotten too used to the morbid and odd turns her lives took if she was taking amusement from freaking out Nazi guards while surrounded by dead people.

Well, if she didn't take amusement in the shit Life threw at her then she would be a mopey depressed girl who would moan about her life and how it wasn't fair and how it shouldn't be happening to her because she was really a nobody and wasn't that interesting.

She did not want to be that girl.

"Sixty-six bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-six bottles of beer, you take one down and pass it around," she was almost sure that she was skipping a few words in the song but she didn't really care as she was just aiming to annoy and freak out the Nazis—which she was doing.

She paused in her song as the bolts of the door slid open with a groan and the door opened again, this time just a single man was illuminated by the too bright sun.

"You look remarkably alive," the man commented and something clicked in the back of her mind at the sound of his voice.

So this was Sabastian Shaw or Klaus Schmidt as he was going by at the moment.

"I feel alive," she told him and he laughed as he stepped in slightly, his shiny shoes inches from the bloated body of one of the women.

"Bold," he flashed her a smile. "A woman before her time."

"You have no idea," she remarked wryly.

"You must be cold," he commented, his gaze barely taking in her naked form that was budding into a more mature figure. "Come."

It was an order and she had learnt her lesson once before so she stood up and carefully stepped over the bodies, her stomach lurching slightly at the red and swollen faces of some of the children that seemed to be staring at her—it was creepy—before stopping just in front of him.

He smiled warmly at her, a smile that didn't really reach his eyes, and took of his blazer and handed it to her. She slipped it on, the end of the blazer resting at her mid-thigh, the sleeves dwarfing her hands as she buttoned up the few buttons to cover her better.

"I'm Doctor Klaus Schmidt," he introduced himself as he lead her out of the chamber with a guiding hand to her back. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one," she answered easily because she didn't have a name at the moment and she didn't really care about what sort of name that Schmidt gave her.

"How about Anastasia?" he asked though she was sure that it wasn't really a question.

"Resurrection," she shot him a look. "How original."

He just smiled at her.

"It's a mouthful so call me Ana," she told him as she was lead passed the Nazi guards and towards Klaus' place.

And so started another life under the hands of a mad doctor.

Erik didn't know how he had made the gates bend, he had never done anything like that before, but he knew that was why the Doctor, Dr Schmidt, was calling him to see him and why the Nazi guards were taking him to Schmidt's office.

Schmidt's office was strange. It was a large room split into two by a wall and door of glass—that part of the room was sterile white with two metal tables and a wall filled with tools and such.

His stomach lurched when he realised that a person was laying on one of the metal slabs. Petite pale feet faced him and a small blanket covered their lower half while their top had been cut in a Y section and was pulled back to reveal all their inner workings.

"Ah, Erik," Schmidt greeted and Erik torn his gaze from the person and the table and stared pale faced at the Doctor.

The Doctor was sat at his desk and gestured for Erik to come closer. Schmidt smiled at him as he reached in one of his desks draws drawers and removed a bar of chocolate, then slowly unwrapped it.

Erik stared almost transfixed at the chocolate as Schmidt broke a bit off—it had been what seemed like forever since he last had chocolate—and it was easier to stare at the chocolate than to stare at Schmidt or the body on the table the other side of the glass.

"Understand this, Erik," Schmidt said as he popped a bit of chocolate into his mouth. "These Nazis, I'm not like them. Genes are the key, yes? But their goals? Blue eyes? Blond hair? Pathetic."

He smiled at Erik and pushed the chocolate towards Erik.

"Want some?" Schmidt asked. "It's good."

"I want to see my mama," Erik stated as firmly as he could.

"Genes are the key that unlocks the door of a new age, Erik. A new future for mankind. Evolution. You know what I'm talking about?" Schmidt asked, ignoring him. Erik shook his head. "You're special like Anastasia," he nodded towards the girl on the slab and reached out for his bell and rung it sharply.

Erik bit back a scream as the body sat up and he met the glacier blue eyes of a girl around his age—she was alive. Her long hair fell down to her shoulders and framed her face. She reached out and pulled her hanging skin into place and they mended together seamlessly.

She slid off the table and reached for a folded robe and slipped it on before padding barefoot into the office.

She gave him an odd look before she perched on the desk and took some of Schmidt's chocolate.

"Anastasia is rather amazing," he told him almost proudly. "She heals at an astonishing rate, she can regrow limbs, organs and can basically come back from the dead." Erik glanced at Anastasia, her face was tight but she showed no sign of really hearing Schmidt as she chewed on her chocolate. "You are special too, but in a different way. I have something for you to do, it's a simple thing I ask of you," he placed a silver coin on the desk in front of Erik. "A little coin is nothing compared to a big gate is it? I want you to move it."

Erik focused on the coin, willing it to move and even threw his hands out again like when he made the gate move and bend. Nothing happened though, not even a twitch of movement as Erik tried as hard as he could to make it move.

He couldn't, he didn't know how he moved the gate so couldn't make the coin move.

"I tried, Herr Doctor. I can't…I don't…It's impossible," he said as he gave up. Schmidt leaned back as he made a disappointed noise.

"The one thing I can say for the Nazis is their methods seem to produce results," he motioned towards the guards at the door after which they left. "I am sorry Erik."

Anastasia shifted slightly, her gaze almost sympathetic as she looked up at him and Erik turned as the door opened again and guards brought with them—

"Mama!" he reached for her and she did the same.

She already seemed thinner in the striped dress they had given her and there was no hair sticking out from under her scarf.

"My darling," she cried. "How are you?"

"Here's what we're going to do," Schmidt interrupted as the guards seized his mother and pulled her back. "I'm going to count to three and you're going to move the coin," he waited till Erik was looking at him and pointed a gun at Erik's mother. "You don't move the coin, I pull the trigger, understand?"

"One,"

"Mama," Erik's tone was pained and Anastasia turned her face away.

"You can do it," his mother reassured him.

"Two,"

"Everything is all right," his mother promised him.

"Three,"

The almost muted sound of the gun made Erik jump as he turned slowly to peer at his mother's crumbled form.

Rage and pain like he had never felt before rushed through his veins and he screamed as he thrust out with his hands, the bell of Schmidt's desk being crushed inwards.

"Yes, wonderful," Schmidt sounded delighted as Erik turned his attention to the filing cabinets and crushed them. "Excellent."

"NO!" Erik screamed as he crushed the helmets on the guards' heads before making a mess of the torture room until he was spent and was left trembling in grief and exhaustion.

"Outstanding, Erik," Schmidt clapped one of his hands on Erik's shoulders and led him into the torture room, the soft padding of bare feet told Erik that Anastasia was following them. "So we unlock your gift with anger. Anger and pain." Schmidt smiled as he pressed the coin into Erik's hand. "You and me, we're going to have a lot of fun together."

Schmidt seemed to be almost laughing as he left. Erik stared blankly at the coin that was staying in place in his open palm.

A pale hand clasped over his and covered the coin from his sight. He looked up and saw Anastasia staring around the trashed room with a deeply satisfied look on her slender face.

"One day," she began as she looked at him with hard glacier eyes. "We'll kill him."

He held her hand tightly, their palms pressing the design of the cursed coin deep into the other's palm.

"Yes," he promised before he let the tears fall. Anastasia hugged him as he mourned his mother's senseless death.

It was a promise of a life-time and one I would keep, even if I made it to baby Magneto.

AN: The start of her fourth life has began, what do you think?