Title: The Dopplegang Effect
Author: Becka
Chapter 12: Under a Blood Red Sky
o
It was some time later when he came to awareness. He tried to sit up, only to find he was strapped, rather tightly, to a cold, metal bed. Everything was sore, and his wings were pinned uncomfortably between the bed and his own body. Looking around, he frowned. Metal walls, metal ceiling, and - call it a hunch - metal floor as well, though he couldn't quite look over the end of the bed to see it. There was nothing else in the room save the bed and himself.
A few of his other senses perked up - there was a curious odor emanating from an air duct in the corner, and a few muted whispers reached to him from beyond the walls. All in all, it was eerily familiar.
He remembered his fight with Fluffy in bits and pieces. Apparently, the man had brought him here, wherever here was. Well, they didn't know who they were dealing with if they thought some stupid table was going to hold him; all he had to do was ice up, freeze his restraints, and make a strategic exit.
Closing his eyes, he focused his power. Or tried to, at least. For some reason, it wasn't working. He couldn't ice up.
Xander opened his mind, trying to listen in on the thoughts of those around him, but he couldn't hear anyone's voice in his head save his own.
Frightened, he tried to call out again. A panel on the far wall slid open and a man, /Magneto?/, stepped through. The door slid shut behind him with an audible click.
"Glad to see you've joined us, Alexander," Magneto said with a tiny smile.
Xander glared at the older man. "Don't call me that."
"Why? It is your name." There was a hint of humor in the man's voice.
"Only my father called me Alexander, and he only got away with it because he kicked the crap out of me if I said anything about. You're not him, so just shut the fuck up!"
A flicker of emotion flashed across Magneto's face, but it disappeared so quickly that Xander wondered if he'd imagined it. "No," the older mutant said softly, "I'm not him."
"Why can't I use my powers?" Xander asked abruptly.
"Collar," the man responded simply. "A lovely little concept devised by the humans who fear us; what's there to fear when we can't use our powers? So, until you join the Brotherhood, it's safer for all parties involved."
"Until?" the winged-mutant scoffed, something not particularly easy to pull off from his present position. "Jumping the gun there a bit, aren't you? What's to say I _never_ join your group? And my friends are going to be looking for you the minute they find I'm gone."
"They can't find us here, Alexander."
"Don't you fucking call me that!"
Magneto seemed unperturbed. He continued, "At any rate, you _will_ join the Brotherhood. We can be very... convincing."
"Oh? Could have fooled me. 'Cause y'know, kidnapping me and strapping me to a freakin' table is _really_ going to convince me."
"You will come around eventually."
"I'll die first." His mouth moved before he could stop himself. "Of old age, I mean. Unless _you_ die and the next kook that takes over this setup realizes what a shitty idea this is and lets me go."
"Mark my words, Alexander. You _will_ join us." There was barely-suppressed rage bubbling underneath the surface of Magneto's mind. He could see it even without his telepathy. The older mutant swept out of the room with a flourish of his cape.
"Bite me, buckethead." Xander petulantly stuck his tongue out at the wall. After a moment, he closed his eyes and whispered, "And don't call me that. Don't _ever_ call me that."
o
Outside Alexander's cell, Eric Lenscher leaned against the wall for support. He sighed and shook his head, resisting the urge to go back into the room and free his son.
It wasn't as though everything _had_ to be this way. He could talk to Alex, explain to him why everything had turned out the way it did. He could show him the world Magneto dreamed of, and how very close they were to true mutant liberation.
All of this was necessary. They'd come so far, too far to just give up. Every single member of the Brotherhood was willing to sacrifice his or her life in order to see the common goal, a world where they didn't have to live in shame, realized.
But it had been so very long since he had seen Alex. Perhaps if he just talked to him, the young mutant would come around the way his other son and daughter had...
Magneto jerked his head sharply to one side as an intense pain filtered through his mind. After a moment, it subsided.
/What was I doing?/ He shook his head to clear it. /Ah, that's right./
Xander would take some convincing, but he'd join the Brotherhood in the end. And if he didn't, well... there were things much worse than death, and Magneto was intimately acquainted with all of them.
o
Two sets of narrowed eyes watched Magneto. They watched the look of sorrow on his face as he left the holding cell. They watched the spectrum of emotion flicker there. They watched him jerk his head abruptly to the side, as though an invisible force had cuffed him soundly on the jaw. And they watched his face harden abruptly, resolution frightening in its intensity, as he walked away from Xander's cell.
The two mutants looked at each other, and one of them asked impatiently, "Now?"
"Yeah," the other said softly, "Now's good."
An unholy joy lit up the first mutant's face. He turned away from his companion and stealthily entered the room where Xander was being held captive.
The second mutant stared after him for a moment. He would stand guard until his companion was done. This was a risky business for them; Magneto had made it perfectly clear what he thought of physical abuse when one of the Brotherhood had gotten a little... zealous... in his interrogation techniques. But then, he and his companion weren't taking orders from Magneto.
Smiling grimly, he laughed, "Sloppy seconds."
o
Xander looked up at the hiss of the door. A short, muscular man entered. He was most certainly a mutant, if only for the fact that he had _four_ arms, dense with muscle and rippling with power. That wasn't what made Xander's breath catch in his throat, though. It was the look on the man's face. Perverted joy shone from dark eyes, and the parody of a smile pulled his thin lips flat against his teeth.
Xander knew the look very well. In fact, he was intimately aquatinted with it.
It was the look Xander's father wore every night that he'd raped him.
o
Blood dripped down Xander's chin, streaking red against cheeks before disappearing into his hair. He'd bitten his lip straight through, and with the collar on him, he couldn't heal himself. He'd been bleeding for close to an hour, and if he turned his head a little, he could feel the stickiness. He was certain there was a puddle of blood pooling beneath his head, and he was equally certain that in another hour it would dry, gluing his tousled hair to the table.
That didn't bother him, though. It was a small price to pay to keep his pride.
They hadn't made him scream.
When the four-armed man had beaten him, he thought he was going to break. When the man had fucked him, he thought he was going to die. When the man left him, he nearly cried with relief.
But it seemed Magneto was quite thorough in his _convincing_, just as he'd promised to be. Not even a minute had passed before a second man had entered. Taller than the first, with exotic, dark skin, and eyes that were almost black, and he'd picked up where Four-arms had left off.
In the cell, Xander had no concept of time. He believed they'd been working him over for nearly two hours before they bored of him. They'd cleaned him up with impersonal hands, laughing at him like he was some sort of freak. It did give him some small satisfaction that they hadn't been able to clean his mouth; Four-arms had nearly lost a finger when he'd tried.
/Not,/ Xander amended silently, /that he'd miss it or anything./
The winged-mutant stared up at the cold, metal ceiling and resisted the urge to cry. If they were monitoring him, which someone undoubtedly was, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
/So Magneto thinks he can break me. Obviously doesn't know about my past, does he? If that asshole thinks this will break me, he's in for an unpleasant surprise. I survived my father. I can do it again./
He felt the tears trying to fight free, but he brutally suppressed them, blinking rapidly. His mind was like a broken record as he repeated his mantra seamlessly.
/I can do it again./
o
Spike paced back and forth furiously in Xander's room. His face was a mask of anger, mixed with a healthy dose of concern. He'd been searching the Institute all day, and he couldn't find a single trace of Xander. No one had seen the whelp since last night, when they'd retired to his room, and no one had any idea where he was.
Several possibilities flickered through Spike's mind. Had Xander been embarrassed about his nightmares the night before? Maybe he just needed a little bit of time to himself? Maybe this was all just a sick game to see if he would worry, and Xander was going to fly through the window any minute and have a good laugh at the vampire's expense.
Then again, perhaps he'd been kidnapped? That Magneto bloke who'd been toting Xander through the woods when he'd first found the whelp had seemed pretty intent, after all. Or maybe he was reaching. It was possible that Xander had suffered another attack, one of the blackouts that furry blue doctor had told him about. Maybe he was passed out somewhere, and he'd be back as soon as he woke up. That wasn't so bad...
The blonde growled and shook his head. If that was the case and some vampire or demon found him, he'd be an easy target. Not that Spike could blame them. Xander's blood was intoxicating; power danced through his veins like quicksilver. Still, the thought of his Xan-pet, unconscious and helpless, laid out like a feast for some creature of the night, made him feel sick.
"Yer gonna run a hole into the carpet if you keep that up, bub."
The irate vampire glanced at Logan who was sprawled comfortably across Xander's bed and snarled, "You got a better idea, mate?"
"Let's search the grounds again," the mutant replied evenly. "We might pick somethin' up."
"Yeah, mate? An' I suppose you've forgotten that we didn't find anythin' the _first_ time. Or the second, or the third, or..."
"Sarcasm isn't appreciated, bub."
"Bite me," Spike said petulantly.
"Don't tempt me. Now, stop yer mopin' and let's _go_." Logan slid off the bed and headed for the door.
"Whatever, mate." The blonde sighed, then perked up with a wicked grin. "Can I go terrorize that lil' bit o' yours?"
The stocky mutant gave him a curious look and Spike clarified, "The one that's always 'anging about you like a trained puppy. Red-haired bint? Green eyes? Ringin' any bells 'ere?"
"Rogue?"
"That's the one."
"Why?"
"'Cause she doesn't like my Xan-pet, an' when you don't like someone, you make it a point to know everythin' bad that happens to 'em," Spike replied simply.
Logan shrugged. "If ya think it'll help, knock yerself out."
o
Rogue sighed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. She stared out the window and made a face. Now that _he_ was gone, she'd expected that she'd have plenty of time to talk to Logan, but the older mutant was so busy searching for Xander he didn't have time for _anyone_. It sucked! Xander wasn't even _here_ and he was _still_ ruining her relationship with Logan.
"Nice view, innit?"
Rogue started, jerking her head around to stare at the blonde man behind her. He seemed to materialize from the very shadows.
"Who are you?" she asked defensively. The blonde looked far too old to be a new student, and she knew for a fact that they weren't expecting any new professors, either.
She took a moment to study him. A leather duster billowed around him as he walked, lending an air of menace to his chiseled facial features. Cold blue eyes glinted dangerously, and his voice was like honey. "A friend of Xan-pet's. Name's Spike, ducks."
"Spike?" Rogue snorted derisively. "What kind of name is that?"
The blonde grinned widely. "Not much o' one, I suppose. Then again, I got it for my... _particular_... methods o' torturing my victims with railroad spikes. You Americans are so big on shortenin' names... apparently 'William the Bloody' was too bloody long for you lot to 'andle."
The young mutant swallowed hard and took a step back. She stuttered, "You're just trying to scare me!"
"Why would I do a thing like that, ducks?" Spike's voice was a wicked purr.
"Because you're just like Xander. You're just as big of a jerk as he was!" In stark contract, Rogue's voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.
"Oh?" Spike's mouth was still smiling, but there was no light in his eyes. "That's where I'd 'ave to say you're wrong. Xander's a white knight..." He closed the distance between them in the span of a single breath. "... an' about as far from me as night is to day."
"Stay away from me!"
"See, I'm a demon, ducks." The blonde's eyes flashed yellow, and the thick ridges of his natural face pushed forward, nearly pulsing. "A vampire, if you want to get tight-assed 'bout it. A soulless monster with a taste for blood, and _nothin'_ like Xan. I've killed more bints like you than I can even _count_. So, why don't you tell me what you know 'bout Xander. Unless," he smiled, showing teeth, "you'd care ta be intimately acquainted with _how_ I got my name."
o
Deep in the heart of the mansion, Professor Charles Xavier sat alone in his study. The light from the fireplace cast an eerie glow on his face, and shadows danced along the walls like demons.
/Why are you doing this, Eric?/ The little tendril of thought reached out to Magneto's mind. It whispered softly, as sad and confused as a lost child.
Unbidden, Magneto's mind-voice responded, /You know why, Charles./ If Xavier's voice was a whisper, quiet and unintrusive, than Eric's voice was a rumble, resounding in its splendor.
/He's your son./
/He's only what I make him./
Xavier lifted his hand and reached out blindly to the friend who he'd known for so many years, and who he missed so very much. /You've changed so much, Eric. What happened to our dream?/
Magneto seemed to scoff. /It was a fool's dream, Charles. A whimsical fancy, a make-believe story, and, while pleasant, it could never be anything more./
/I will stop you, you know./
/I look forward to it, old friend./ With that, Magneto abruptly severed their link.
Professor Xavier, debatably one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet, founder of the X-men, and political force unto himself, buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
o
"Fuck," Four-arms muttered as he tried to bend Xander over the metal table. The dark-haired mutant fought him every step of the way, kicking and squirming for all he was worth. Even through the gag, they could make out several muffled curses.
"Hurry up," the dark-skinned mutant said.
"Whatever," Four-arms replied. "He's not going to remember this anyway."
A strange shudder shook the very foundations of the room, and both mutants looked up, fear flickering across their faces.
"Hurry up. The Master is almost here."
Four-arms secured Xander tightly with two of his arms, and his companion pulled out a wicked needle from one of his pockets. The ground shook again, but both mutants were tight-lipped as they stoically ignored it.
Xander felt a sharp pain in his arm, and the last thought that crossed through his mind before he blacked out was, /Master?/
o
He came to awareness slowly. His eyes assessed his surroundings curiously: metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floor. From his position, he couldn't see a door. His vision was a little fuzy, but he focused on the two men in the room with him; one man with four arms was restraining him as the other violated his body. He tried to say something, but his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat.
A curious hiss caught his attention as one of the walls slid back, and a man stepped through. The door shut behind him with an audible click, and he felt both men stiffen as they stared fearfully at the newcomer.
One of the men opened his mouth to say something, but he was silenced as the man lifted a hand. The two men violating him seemed to implode. It was nothing like he'd ever seen before; blood splattered across the metal walls and floor. Some of it got onto his face as well.
He stared at the man fearfully. There was something... sickening about this man. It made his skin crawl, but... the man had saved him, hadn't he?
The man's grin was that of a lunatic, so wide it seemed to spread from ear to ear. His voice was a rumble as he asked, "Do you have any questions for me?"
The knot in his throat uncoiled. He licked his dry lips, tasting blood, and answered hoarsely, "Who am I?"
If possible, the man's smile widened marginally. "My precious Doppelganger, of course."
"Who are you?"
"Your Master. You may call me Sinister." And with that, the man threw back his head and laughed.
o
Note: For everyone unfamiliar with the X-men, the two men who torture Xander are Forearm and Harpoon. They are two of Sinister's henchmen, the Marauders. Sinister is also fairly big into cloning, and it doesn't matter how many times you kill them because he can always bring them back.
Last, Sinister has no real mutant power. His only gift is his complete indestructibility. The reason why he was able to destroy Harpoon and Forearm with the ease that he did is because (for my story purposes, at least) he planted his own version of little bombs in them when he created them. That's assuming that any of you actually care about the mechanics of how he made them go boom.
And while I don't remember who the mother is, Magneto does have two children in the comics: Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch. If anyone gets a chance to check out the Ultimate X-men graphic novels, Quicksilver is a cuttie.
o