Eric had driven past the school, silent in his thoughts. Certainly, Pietro didn't understand what had happened today, but Eric knew all too well.
What power had his son been gifted with?
Judging from his assailant's injuries and the ruined walkway, it was no doubt a powerful mutation; Pietro would soon lose his meek ways and become more confident once he fully understood that he was different from his classmates.
Then again, what if his powers became as uncontrollable as his twin sister's had been?
The memory of Wanda, kicking and screaming for him not to leave her, entered into his mind. He had never wanted to have her taken away, it was a last resort.
But what could he have done? Let the girl have her temper tantrums until she destroyed everything around her?
After Magda, the twins' mother had left, Wanda's powers had manifested and nearly killed her brother and Eric on several occasions. In his heart, Eric knew that Wanda blamed him for thier mother's departure.
He had to protect one child from the other; and though it was harsh, he saw that the only way to do this was to separate the twins.
What else could he have done? Let the girl have her temper tantrums until she destroyed everything around her?
Charles had promised to help Wanda manage her anger and powers, but so far, there had been little change. As Eric understood it from his annual phone call to Charles, she still held the utmost contempt for her father, and longed for the day when she could have revenge.
Well, the day would come when she would forgive Eric and be allowed to come back to what was left of the family; or, if she refused to let go of her anger, then more drastic measures would have to be taken. No threat or injury to the girl of course, but drastic nonetheless.
It had been nearly six years since Wanda's powers had manifested. Pietro was a late bloomer, indeed, but there may be hope for him. At his advanced age, he may learn to better control his power, whatever it was.
Eric knew that this was a long time coming, and was wondering how he could possibly explain such things as DNA mutations and the general fear and hatred of those who had them to a boy.
Eric glanced at Pietro, who was looking out the window.
Yes, Pietro was a boy, just a mere child who wanted nothing more than to play games with his friends. Eric often wished the twins to have been born later, when mutants were the dominant species of the world, and they would face no fear.
Nothing he could do about that now, though.
Pietro sat beside his father in the passenger seat, looking out the window as houses passed by. Father knew something, perhaps everything, but he had not said anything by way of explanation yet. This made young Pietro worry.
Was father mad at him?
Was he going to be punished for what he had done on the playground today?
Eric parked the car in front of their small, suburban house, and they both got out.
"Have a seat in the dining room, Pietro."
He did as he was told, and Eric sat down across from him.
"Pietro, I know that something very...strange happened to you today."
"Yeah."
"You are different from the other children, Pietro. Very different, and I think that somewhere deep down, you've always known it."
"How?"
"Well, everyone is different; their skin color, their eyes..."
"Their hair?" he asked, touching his own near platinum locks.
"Yes, their hair too. But you are different in a more special way."
"How?"
"The difference is in your blood, son. It's in our blood. You see, we can do things, things that no one else can do, because our blood is different. Our blood is better."
"I don't understand."
Eric sighed at the boy across from him, this was going to be more difficult to explain that he had thought.
"Well, people like you and me are called mutants. We were born different; we can do things that seem impossible, all because our blood has the X-gene. That's what makes you more special than your classmates. That was how you did what you did on the playground today."
"But I don't even know how I did it!" Pietro cried.
"Calm down, Pietro. This isn't a bad thing. I have actually been waiting to see if you were born this way, and I am pleased that you were. You are special, Pietro. Different, powerful. You can do things that you never thought were possible. If everything you told me is true, then I believe that you can run faster than any living human...or mutant, for that matter."
"I can?" Pietro asked, becoming more interested by the second.
He was powerful? He was special? He could do the impossible?
Him? Short, skinny, pale, weak, meek Pietro Maximoff?
"Wow, I have to go tell Mary!" he cried, ready to run all the way to her house.
"No, Pietro, wait!"
His father's grave tone gave the boy pause; he quickly sat down again in his dining room chair.
"You can't just go out and show off your power."
"Why?"
"Because, Pietro...the world is full of bad people. Some people may get jealous of your power, they might try to hurt you because you are different."
*^*^*^*
Pietro thought about the conversation he and his father had had that afternoon. Now, early the next morning, he was reminded again of his father's warning.
"Remember what I told you, Pietro. You cannot reveal yourself no matter how big the temptation. The world is a dangerous place, and I don't want to see you get hurt in any way." Eric had warned as he helped Pietro put on his backpack.
"Don't worry, father, I won't." Pietro had replied.
He went out the door, and set out on his way to school, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
What power had his son been gifted with?
Judging from his assailant's injuries and the ruined walkway, it was no doubt a powerful mutation; Pietro would soon lose his meek ways and become more confident once he fully understood that he was different from his classmates.
Then again, what if his powers became as uncontrollable as his twin sister's had been?
The memory of Wanda, kicking and screaming for him not to leave her, entered into his mind. He had never wanted to have her taken away, it was a last resort.
But what could he have done? Let the girl have her temper tantrums until she destroyed everything around her?
After Magda, the twins' mother had left, Wanda's powers had manifested and nearly killed her brother and Eric on several occasions. In his heart, Eric knew that Wanda blamed him for thier mother's departure.
He had to protect one child from the other; and though it was harsh, he saw that the only way to do this was to separate the twins.
What else could he have done? Let the girl have her temper tantrums until she destroyed everything around her?
Charles had promised to help Wanda manage her anger and powers, but so far, there had been little change. As Eric understood it from his annual phone call to Charles, she still held the utmost contempt for her father, and longed for the day when she could have revenge.
Well, the day would come when she would forgive Eric and be allowed to come back to what was left of the family; or, if she refused to let go of her anger, then more drastic measures would have to be taken. No threat or injury to the girl of course, but drastic nonetheless.
It had been nearly six years since Wanda's powers had manifested. Pietro was a late bloomer, indeed, but there may be hope for him. At his advanced age, he may learn to better control his power, whatever it was.
Eric knew that this was a long time coming, and was wondering how he could possibly explain such things as DNA mutations and the general fear and hatred of those who had them to a boy.
Eric glanced at Pietro, who was looking out the window.
Yes, Pietro was a boy, just a mere child who wanted nothing more than to play games with his friends. Eric often wished the twins to have been born later, when mutants were the dominant species of the world, and they would face no fear.
Nothing he could do about that now, though.
Pietro sat beside his father in the passenger seat, looking out the window as houses passed by. Father knew something, perhaps everything, but he had not said anything by way of explanation yet. This made young Pietro worry.
Was father mad at him?
Was he going to be punished for what he had done on the playground today?
Eric parked the car in front of their small, suburban house, and they both got out.
"Have a seat in the dining room, Pietro."
He did as he was told, and Eric sat down across from him.
"Pietro, I know that something very...strange happened to you today."
"Yeah."
"You are different from the other children, Pietro. Very different, and I think that somewhere deep down, you've always known it."
"How?"
"Well, everyone is different; their skin color, their eyes..."
"Their hair?" he asked, touching his own near platinum locks.
"Yes, their hair too. But you are different in a more special way."
"How?"
"The difference is in your blood, son. It's in our blood. You see, we can do things, things that no one else can do, because our blood is different. Our blood is better."
"I don't understand."
Eric sighed at the boy across from him, this was going to be more difficult to explain that he had thought.
"Well, people like you and me are called mutants. We were born different; we can do things that seem impossible, all because our blood has the X-gene. That's what makes you more special than your classmates. That was how you did what you did on the playground today."
"But I don't even know how I did it!" Pietro cried.
"Calm down, Pietro. This isn't a bad thing. I have actually been waiting to see if you were born this way, and I am pleased that you were. You are special, Pietro. Different, powerful. You can do things that you never thought were possible. If everything you told me is true, then I believe that you can run faster than any living human...or mutant, for that matter."
"I can?" Pietro asked, becoming more interested by the second.
He was powerful? He was special? He could do the impossible?
Him? Short, skinny, pale, weak, meek Pietro Maximoff?
"Wow, I have to go tell Mary!" he cried, ready to run all the way to her house.
"No, Pietro, wait!"
His father's grave tone gave the boy pause; he quickly sat down again in his dining room chair.
"You can't just go out and show off your power."
"Why?"
"Because, Pietro...the world is full of bad people. Some people may get jealous of your power, they might try to hurt you because you are different."
*^*^*^*
Pietro thought about the conversation he and his father had had that afternoon. Now, early the next morning, he was reminded again of his father's warning.
"Remember what I told you, Pietro. You cannot reveal yourself no matter how big the temptation. The world is a dangerous place, and I don't want to see you get hurt in any way." Eric had warned as he helped Pietro put on his backpack.
"Don't worry, father, I won't." Pietro had replied.
He went out the door, and set out on his way to school, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
