An alarm is blaring somewhere around me. Hundreds of feet rushing to fall in line make the building shake; I can feel it through the floor. Suddenly a glaring light fills the dark little room I've been held in. There was no ominous creak of warning as the doors open. My transportation unit is completely plastic. I am called out.

I rise to my feet and step down into that light. The plastic holders on my wrists keep me from shielding my eyes, but it doesn't take long for them to adjust to the new light and allow me to view my surroundings.

I am in a large concrete room. It almost looks like a bunker. Inside the room they have raised an army devoid of any and all metal. My welcoming party.

It strikes me as funny that they have an entire army on their side, but I am not the one with fear written so plainly on my face. That's right, Homo sapiens, stand there behind your ceramic guns with your tails so firmly between your legs. Magneto has arrived.

I am escorted to the far side of the room, and by escorted I mean that I walk while five men stand in front of me and five behind. The rest of the troops form an aisle for me to walk down. Red carpet treatment for the most powerful of mutants.

I cannot help the smug look on my face as I walk. I am the captured, but they act like cornered prey. How perfectly marvelous to see the effect Magneto has on these creatures.

I notice that one of my escorts must be a new recruit. He is young and terrified. I can see him shaking, sweat dripping down his brow. Now, I must admit that I tend to have a flair for the dramatic, and sometimes I like to… What's the word young people are using these days? Troll? I do believe these tendencies run in my family.

This causes me to stop walking and glance at the young man, an action that immediately makes everyone else in the room nervous, as they hold their guns at the ready.

"Do you fear me, boy?" I ask. He doesn't need to answer; I can see it in his eyes. "Good. You have every reason to fear me. As soon as I break out of here, I am coming for you first." With that said, I continue walking.

I am led to an office where a man sits behind a desk. Two of my escorts enter with me, the rest remain outside. Bold move on the clerk's part. I stand there and we begin the identification process.

"Erik Lehnsherr?" The man looks at me.

I nod. "Though I do prefer my real name."

He raises a questioning brow.

"Magneto," I clarify.

I see him purse his lips to an 'o', rolling his eyes. "Show me your left arm then, Magneto."

Words were wasted on this one. I extend both my arms since they are handcuffed together, but I turn slightly so he can see what I know he's looking for. There, on my forearm, are tattooed the numbers 214782. Those numbers bring me many painful memories, but I expected that they'd be brought up at least once in this ordeal.

The man scribbled something down. Then he took a coin out and laid it on the table. "Move the coin for me."

Hm, now this seemed familiar. I move my hand slowly for effect. I make the coin move. Proof they can't deny.

The clerk looks at me skeptically. "You appear much too young to have been in Auschwitz, Mr. Lehnsherr."

I straighten my back and look at him condescendingly. "Boy, there are so many things in this world that you can't even begin to comprehend. But, if you must know for your precious paperwork, I used the serum from Operation Rebirth."

Several hours later and I have been labeled and categorized, searched, scrubbed, searched again, dressed in a clean, white jumpsuit, and photographed. Now I am sitting in my temporary home. They have taken the cuffs off, but I have been warned that they could be put back on at any moment.

Plastic chair, plastic table, plastic bed, see through walls. No creativity and no privacy. It was nothing I wouldn't be able to handle.

I have already made two requests of the people at this… lovely facility. The first one arrives about an hour into my stay.

A guard enters carrying a box. No doubt it has already been opened, inspected, tested, and put through all sorts of metal detectors. I watch him from my bed as he watches me nervously and sets the box on my table. Then he leaves as quickly as he can. Do I really cause these humans so much fear? Fascinating.

I stand and walk to my table. Inside the box is a hand-carved black and white onyx chess set. I run my hand over the smooth stone, then I set the board on the table and began to set the pieces up. When I am done with this task I put the box under my bed and sit back down to wait.

Another two hours pass and my second request finally arrives- a visitor that I have not seen in some time.

I stand and wait to greet my old friend. "Charles," I smile as he is wheeled in on a plastic wheelchair.

"Erik," he stares at my face. "Is it really you?"

"What? Doesn't it look like me?" I have to smirk slightly.

"Yes, it looks like you forty years ago," Charles answers. "They told me you used the Operation Rebirth serum, but I was not expecting this."

I chuckle and gesture towards the table. "Shall we play a game to pass the time?"

At his nod I wheel Charles to the table, then take my seat across from him.

"You know," Charles lays back in his chair and peers at my face, "You almost look exactly like your son."

I smile. My pieces are white, so I go first. How appropriate. I choose a pawn towards the center of the line and I move it forward. "I know. Pietro was ecstatic when he saw me the first time. Foolish boy, he gets happy over the oddest things."

"Indeed," Charles chuckled and also moved a pawn. "That seems exactly the type of thing he'd get excited over. He still adores you. I suppose the younger look caused some trouble for processing?"

"Some," I study the board, "But not as much as my DNA."

He gives me a puzzled look.

"The serum altered my DNA slightly," I make my next move, "But there was enough original DNA for them to confirm my identity."

"Ah," Charles nods. "I'll admit, when I first heard of the break in at S.H.I.E.L.D. I was not expecting you to use it on yourself."

"You shouldn't be surprised, it has all sorts of benefits for mutants." I smile and tap my temple. "Surely you've noticed?"

Charles squints his eyes. "Yes… You already had a formidable mental barrier, but now it's nearly impossible to read you. You're saying Rebirth did this?" He shakes his head and moves his knight out.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" I move a pawn to guard another.

"Very," Charles sits back in his seat and looks at me. "How has your family been, Erik?"

The question catches me slightly off guard. "Better," I answer after a moment. "I have been… improving the relationships with my children. Pietro is more willing to accept it than Wanda is."

"I am not surprised," Charles smiles, "The boy has always looked up to you. Even before, when…" He looks to the side.

I scoff. Ah yes, before…

"Pietro!"

"Yes, Papa?" Fourteen-year-old Pietro Maximoff, known as Quicksilver, appeared at his father's side before the name had finished forming.

Erik glanced down at him. "Where have you been all day? No matter, I want you to run a message over to Sabretooth for me." He handed his son a slip of paper. "He went to scout out the mansion."

"Sure," Pietro took the slip and stuffed it in his pocket. "Piece of cake. Anything else you want me to do while I'm out?" He was bored and itching for something, anything, to do. Especially something that would please his father.

"No, that will be all for now," Erik dismissed him with a wave of his hand, "Come straight home when you are done."

"Yes Papa." Pietro turned and ran out of the office, out of the house, and across town to where the X-Men mansion was. It only took him about a minute to get there. He would have been faster, but he had to take time to dodge the slow ones that always cluttered the roads and sidewalks, almost unmoving compared to him. It seemed like they wanted him to smack into them and they planned to move as slow as possible for this to happen. Of course, that couldn't be true since they didn't know about him, but it seemed like it.

He stopped by the woods that bordered one side of the property and looked around for signs of Victor. The overgrown cat was nowhere to be seen. He rolled his eyes and ran around, trying to find him. He'd better not be in the mansion… Not that it would be a challenge to get in. He just didn't feel like being around those idiots, the stupid might rub off on him.

After a few seconds of dashing around and no results, Pietro steeled himself. No doubt, he'd have to search the mansion itself before he found Victor. There was no way he was going home without delivering his father's message. With a deep breath, he ran up and over the gate.

As soon as his feet hit the ground a jolt ran through his body that knocked his breath away and froze him in his spot. "Wh-what?" he gasped, trying to move his feet. "What is this?"

Pietro shook his head, starting to feel a little dizzy. His heartbeat slowed, his movements became sluggish, his head swam. He… Things around him were speeding up. Either that, or he… No. He couldn't handle the thought.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here."

Pietro turned towards that voice, blinking a few times for his vision to focus. He scowled when he saw who it was. "I don't have time for you right now, laser-eye."

Cyclops stepped forward. "Seeing as you're the one trespassing, I think you can make the time."

Pietro tried to back away, but his limbs were too heavy to drag even an inch on the ground. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Yes you do," he scoffed, "Stop acting tough, Maximoff. I know you can't use your powers now; you're normal. Just as fast as everyone else."

"No!" Pietro glared, not willing to believe it. "What the iad did you do to me?"

"Ha ha!" Another voice joined in.

Pietro glanced back to see others approaching. Iceman, Angel, Nightcrawler, and that motanul acru Wolverine.

Iceman smirked and circled the speedster. "I thought you said it was Sabretooth out here! If I'd have known it was only the annoying brat then I would have stayed inside."

"Sabretooth is around here somewhere," Wolverine snorted, "Trust me on that."

"Then what's he doing here?"

The feral mutant shrugged. "We caught a mouse in a bear trap." He turned to Cyclops. "What do yah plan on doin' now, Summers?"

Cyclops frowned as he thought. It must be because it hurt so much to get his brain working. "We'll hold onto him for now. Jean or the Professor might be able to get something from him when they return. Besides, it wouldn't be responsible for us to leave him with a man like Magneto. It's not healthy for a kid to grow up around that."

Pietro gasped and tried to lunge at the man. "No! You can't do that to me!" He was just starting to become useful to his father- the X-Men couldn't ruin that for him! They ruined everything else, but not that!

"Calm down there, slow-poke," Iceman grabbed his arms from behind. Pietro found it hard to escape now that his powers were gone. He began to panic.

Cyclops stepped forward and began to pat Pietro down, searching for anything he might be carrying. To Pietro's dismay, he felt the paper in his pocket and took it out for inspection.

The Speedster whimpered. He was helpless, at their mercy, and there was no way for him to save himself.

Cyclops looked at him smugly and pocketed the paper. "Keep a grip on him, Bobby. I'm turning off the motion inhibitor."

"No problem, this guy's a wimp," Iceman laughed.

Pietro growled and tried to knock Iceman to the side, but he only succeeded in knocking himself off balance. Every one one of those blestemat X-Men laughed at him. Every one except for the Wolverine, who would probably feel pain if he ever let a smile escape. He looked generally pissed off, as usual. Pietro's face turned red and he hung his head in shame.

"I don't sink he vill be any more trouble," Nightcrawler commented with a smug look on his blue, furry face.

Cyclops smirked and took some kind of remote from his pocket, then pushed a button.

The pins and needles left Pietro's legs and he found that he could move them, but the sluggish feeling remained. Pietro almost cried- had they taken his power from him along with his dignity? Would he be slow for the rest of his life?

Before he could fully grasp that thought there was a familiar roar from beyond the gate.

The Wolverine snarled and let his claws out, getting into a fighting stance.

Pietro didn't have to turn around to know who it was that was charging their way. Victor.

The feral mutant hurdled over the fence and backhanded Iceman out of the way, then wrapped an arm around Pietro's waist and hauled him over a shoulder. Before the X-Men could react he had spun around and ran off the property.

That was the first time since puberty that Pietro experienced motion sickness. When his eyes could focus again and the queasiness left his stomach, he laughed at the startled looks on the X-Men's faces as they receded into the background, especially the Wolverine's. The other feral had probably been expecting a fight and looked bewildered now that he didn't get one. Pietro was surprised that he wasn't giving chase, actually.

As Victor hurried him away from the mansion, Pietro's heartbeat began to increase. The world around him slowed to its normal pace, bringing waves of relief over the young mutant. His powers were back.

"Alright, Victor," he called out, kicking a little as he tried to roll off of the other mutant's shoulder, "You can put me down now, I can run."

Victor grumbled and didn't answer. He simply ran on for a few moments, probably wanting to put more space between them and the X-Men in case the latter decided to give chase. When they were a safe distance away he finally slowed to a halt.

Pietro yelped loudly when he felt a heavy swat to his backside. Then Victor bent over and put him on his feet. Pietro quickly rubbed the sting out, fuming. "You're not allowed to hit me, I'm telling my father!"

Victor snorted and crossed his arms. "It's not the first time I've done that and it won't be the last, brat. What the h3ll were you thinking, going to the mansion like that?"

"I was looking for you!" Pietro scowled. "I had a message from Papa and I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Of course you couldn't find me, I was hiding!" Victor roared, "You should have stayed put long enough for me to catch your scent, I would have come to you!"

"I didn't have time for that," Pietro said indignantly, crossing his arms, "You're slow."

"No, you had plenty of time," Victor corrected, "Just not enough patience. And that put your father's message right into their hands. You think he's going to be proud of that? No. The only reason I'm not taking you and beating the sh!t out of you right now is because I know your daddy's gonna do worse when we get back!"

A jolt of fear ran down Pietro's spine as Victor spoke those words. "Now wait, Victor… Please don't do that. Don't tell him."

"He's going to find out one way or another, Pietro," Victor almost looked sorry for him. Yeah right, that guy never felt anything for anyone. "I'm not going to be the one who lies to him."

Pietro whimpered. He was right, his father always knew somehow. He turned and disappeared as he ran back to the house.

Unlike other kids his age, Pietro didn't want to stall. He ran right for his father's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Erik's voice called out.

Pietro opened the door and peered into the office. "Hi Papa…"

"Pietro? That took far longer than I expected," Erik looked up at him. "Were you able to deliver my message?"

Pietro looked down and shook his head. "No, Papa… The X-Men interfered and… They took it from me."

Erik looked over at his son with apparent contempt. "I see… Pietro, are you not the fastest person on the planet? How did they catch you?"

"They had something that turned off my powers, I don't know how to explain it," Pietro didn't look at him.

"Quicksilver, you are my son. You should be above such petty things as the X-Men and their toys."

Pietro slumped down even more. "I'm sorry, Papa…"

"Don't apologize," Magneto glared his way, "Just do things right the first time!" He stood up from his desk. "You know what happens when you fail, boy. Come here and prepare yourself."

Pietro's heart nearly stopped. With the manner of one on Death Row he slowly forced himself over to his father's big metal desk. Every time the X-Men meddled he ended up here. As he stretched his upper body across the desk and gripped the other side, he could have sworn he saw marks from his palms on the desk from having done this action so many times. Why did the X-Men hate him so much that they'd do this to him over and over?

He shivered slightly as his pants and underwear were lowered to the floor, then he saw a small cloud of metal particles float up off of the desk. He didn't need to turn his head to see what his father was making with them.

There was the sound of metal hitting flesh and Pietro had to choke back a yelp and force his hands not to reach back and rub the sting out of his thigh.

His father continued to spank him with the cruel implement, and Pietro tried his hardest not to make a sound. His father knew he was a failure; he didn't need to see him as weak or a crier, either. However, as the strikes kept coming, he couldn't stop the tears. He rested his head against the cool desk and cried as silently as he could, occasionally letting out a louder cry when he got a particularly hard hit.

His father spanked him until he collapsed and his backside and thighs felt raw. Nothing was too far when it came to teaching his son a lesson.

Pietro lay there, crying silently, for a good few moments before he could gather the strength to stand. Erik looked down at him. "Don't disappoint me again," he warned, "That is not what a son does. A son makes his father proud."

Pietro nodded and winced as he took his pants back up. "May I be excused, sir?" he asked in the slightest whisper.

"Yes," Erik answered, "But don't be late for dinner."

Pietro nodded and quietly walked out of the office. His father sat back down as if nothing happened.

Pietro would train, he would become better, and he would make sure the X-Men would never be able to beat him again. He couldn't be a disappointment to his father.