Dismal, green eyes peered through the only window in the bedroom and
scanned the familiar scenery on the outside. A progression of small hills,
plastered with bright, fresh grass loomed over the rest of the land,
bordered with overhanging shadows in the fading sunlight. As the sun
resolutely buried itself behind the darkening horizon, a sad nostalgia
settled upon the gloomy scene and the owner of the green eyes looked
quickly away from the same landscape he'd been looking at everyday for the
past month. They locked onto a spot on the wooden floorboards of the room,
doggedly inspecting the cracks and crevices between each one.
A faint series of soft clicks resounded within the small space as the young man fished his lighter out of his pocket and tensely flicked it open and closed with the back of his thumb. The small sound rebounded off the walls, bouncing frantically back and forth in a quick echo. The boy shifted anxiously in his chair, tapping the heel of his shoe on the ground in nervous agitation of his master's return.
As if on cue, the bedroom door swung open to reveal a white haired man, well into his fifties, standing smugly in the doorframe with his arms locked across his chest. He grinned down at the boy, slightly amused at the young man's facade of puzzlement etched onto his handsome face.
"John, my boy," he stated firmly, "we have obtained a new prisoner."
Any trace of anticipation that had once been imprinted onto the boy's face quickly disappeared. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and half- heartedly shoved his lighter into his back pocket before getting up to drag himself along after the white-haired man. How many people did they have to kill before Magneto was happy? John looked up from the floor he trudged over to glare daggers at the back of the old man's head. The man was a killing machine, only taking pleasure in the torture and death of others. It hurt to stand there watching, as one by one all the "test subjects," as they were called, broke. Or, as a more common term, died.
The two mutants rounded the corner into the hallway that led directly into the chambers. It was there all the captives were taken, beaten, experimented on, and eventually, killed. John cringed visibly as memories of the past month flooded back to him. Just last week it had been a young boy, barely ten years old at the most, chained with metal links to a cold stone wall. He'd been tested, subject to concoctions Magneto had come up with to try and improve the mutant ability. One of them was too much -- too strong -- and the boy had died of a violent seizure mere moments after the injection.
John snapped out of his haunting memories as he saw Magneto stop in front of the last cell in the room they had come to. He stood there proudly beaming down at his catch, arms still crossed, a smug grin plastered onto his face that John would have happily ripped off with his own bare hands. The metal bars of the cage parted like the graceful movements of water with a wave of Magneto's hand, and he entered the chamber, flicking his cape snidely so as not to brush it against the filthy steel. John leaned back against the side of the cage, facing the opposite way of the entrance, unwilling to face the scene that had been laid out before him so many times before. There was always the tortured body, the pain-streaked face, the torn clothes to match the equally battered heart and soul. He didn't know if he could bear it again.
Magneto naturally objected to John's lack of participation. "My dear Pyro, do you not wish to greet our newcomer?" He smiled maliciously at the young man before returning his gaze to the ground where John could only suspect the captive was lying.
John didn't turn around, let alone flinch at Magneto's blatant distaste. "Not particularly, no."
"Oh, but I must insist." The corners of the old man's mouth flicked again into a cruel grin. If only John could get close enough to wrap that damn smile around his neck... the boy clenched his fists at his sides as Magneto continued. "I believe she will be here for a while."
At this last comment, John started a little, wrenching his fiery gaze from the stone wall in front of him to look piercingly at Magneto, careful not to catch any glimpse of the figure on the ground. He knew all to well that any little glance would trigger memories that John had been trying so hard to forget.
"She?" John's eyes didn't stray from the old man's but stayed locked, his eyebrows furrowed in obvious disgust. "You've never found the heart to torment a girl before, Erik."
Another smirk. "Not while you've had the pleasure of being here, no."
The man motioned with his hand for John to enter the cell. Rolling his eyes, John complied, aware that he would regret it later in the night when he attempted to fall asleep. He stepped silently over the bent metal bars on the ground to place himself a reasonable measure away from Magneto, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he hesitantly dropped his gaze down to the floor.
What he saw took every breath from his lungs. It did every time. The battered body of a girl, no younger than John himself, lay curled up defensively in the corner of the stone cage. Around her bruised wrists tight shackles were bound, linking her to the wall with metal chains. Torn shreds of clothes draped off her thin frame, and it was quite obvious that she had been deprived of food for quite some time. A deep gash on her shoulder bled unremittingly down her arm, turning it a bright red, coloring the rock ground and standing out as if it was in a black and white photo. Another wound had buried itself on her left temple, blood making its way down her cheek, mingling with her jet black hair that lay limply about her shoulders. John shuddered as a wave of pity for the poor girl washed over him. Magneto only laughed cruelly and kicked her hard in the stomach.
A heart-wrenching cry of agony escaped the young girl's lips and John flinched, watching tears of pain stream down the girl's face. Magneto struck her again, fiercer this time, and John's hand shot out to grasp the old man's arm tightly.
"Stop it." The words were forced out of John's gritted teeth as his wide eyes gazed concernedly down at the tortured girl. Magneto searched the boy's face, confused.
"My dear boy, if you are to fight like us, if you are to become one of us, you must learn to deal with the pain of others."
John opened his mouth to answer, but closed it quickly, unsure of how to respond. 'You must learn to deal with the pain of others.' What if he didn't want to learn how to deal with it? Why did he have to deal with it in the first place? The boy glared daggers at the cold ground as Magneto wrenched his arm free of his death grip and haughtily exited the cell, his cape flipping almost mockingly at his heels. John quickly followed, unable to shake the feeling that he knew the girl that was lying agonized on the cage floor, and the metal bars shifted easily back into their places. The heartless old man made his way down the hallway, his rapid footsteps echoing disdainfully off the metal walls. John continued the opposite way, half in a daze of memories and flashes that haunted him from the sight he'd just seen, walking slowly and silently towards his own room. It was going to be a very long night.
~~ * ~~
A faint series of soft clicks resounded within the small space as the young man fished his lighter out of his pocket and tensely flicked it open and closed with the back of his thumb. The small sound rebounded off the walls, bouncing frantically back and forth in a quick echo. The boy shifted anxiously in his chair, tapping the heel of his shoe on the ground in nervous agitation of his master's return.
As if on cue, the bedroom door swung open to reveal a white haired man, well into his fifties, standing smugly in the doorframe with his arms locked across his chest. He grinned down at the boy, slightly amused at the young man's facade of puzzlement etched onto his handsome face.
"John, my boy," he stated firmly, "we have obtained a new prisoner."
Any trace of anticipation that had once been imprinted onto the boy's face quickly disappeared. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and half- heartedly shoved his lighter into his back pocket before getting up to drag himself along after the white-haired man. How many people did they have to kill before Magneto was happy? John looked up from the floor he trudged over to glare daggers at the back of the old man's head. The man was a killing machine, only taking pleasure in the torture and death of others. It hurt to stand there watching, as one by one all the "test subjects," as they were called, broke. Or, as a more common term, died.
The two mutants rounded the corner into the hallway that led directly into the chambers. It was there all the captives were taken, beaten, experimented on, and eventually, killed. John cringed visibly as memories of the past month flooded back to him. Just last week it had been a young boy, barely ten years old at the most, chained with metal links to a cold stone wall. He'd been tested, subject to concoctions Magneto had come up with to try and improve the mutant ability. One of them was too much -- too strong -- and the boy had died of a violent seizure mere moments after the injection.
John snapped out of his haunting memories as he saw Magneto stop in front of the last cell in the room they had come to. He stood there proudly beaming down at his catch, arms still crossed, a smug grin plastered onto his face that John would have happily ripped off with his own bare hands. The metal bars of the cage parted like the graceful movements of water with a wave of Magneto's hand, and he entered the chamber, flicking his cape snidely so as not to brush it against the filthy steel. John leaned back against the side of the cage, facing the opposite way of the entrance, unwilling to face the scene that had been laid out before him so many times before. There was always the tortured body, the pain-streaked face, the torn clothes to match the equally battered heart and soul. He didn't know if he could bear it again.
Magneto naturally objected to John's lack of participation. "My dear Pyro, do you not wish to greet our newcomer?" He smiled maliciously at the young man before returning his gaze to the ground where John could only suspect the captive was lying.
John didn't turn around, let alone flinch at Magneto's blatant distaste. "Not particularly, no."
"Oh, but I must insist." The corners of the old man's mouth flicked again into a cruel grin. If only John could get close enough to wrap that damn smile around his neck... the boy clenched his fists at his sides as Magneto continued. "I believe she will be here for a while."
At this last comment, John started a little, wrenching his fiery gaze from the stone wall in front of him to look piercingly at Magneto, careful not to catch any glimpse of the figure on the ground. He knew all to well that any little glance would trigger memories that John had been trying so hard to forget.
"She?" John's eyes didn't stray from the old man's but stayed locked, his eyebrows furrowed in obvious disgust. "You've never found the heart to torment a girl before, Erik."
Another smirk. "Not while you've had the pleasure of being here, no."
The man motioned with his hand for John to enter the cell. Rolling his eyes, John complied, aware that he would regret it later in the night when he attempted to fall asleep. He stepped silently over the bent metal bars on the ground to place himself a reasonable measure away from Magneto, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he hesitantly dropped his gaze down to the floor.
What he saw took every breath from his lungs. It did every time. The battered body of a girl, no younger than John himself, lay curled up defensively in the corner of the stone cage. Around her bruised wrists tight shackles were bound, linking her to the wall with metal chains. Torn shreds of clothes draped off her thin frame, and it was quite obvious that she had been deprived of food for quite some time. A deep gash on her shoulder bled unremittingly down her arm, turning it a bright red, coloring the rock ground and standing out as if it was in a black and white photo. Another wound had buried itself on her left temple, blood making its way down her cheek, mingling with her jet black hair that lay limply about her shoulders. John shuddered as a wave of pity for the poor girl washed over him. Magneto only laughed cruelly and kicked her hard in the stomach.
A heart-wrenching cry of agony escaped the young girl's lips and John flinched, watching tears of pain stream down the girl's face. Magneto struck her again, fiercer this time, and John's hand shot out to grasp the old man's arm tightly.
"Stop it." The words were forced out of John's gritted teeth as his wide eyes gazed concernedly down at the tortured girl. Magneto searched the boy's face, confused.
"My dear boy, if you are to fight like us, if you are to become one of us, you must learn to deal with the pain of others."
John opened his mouth to answer, but closed it quickly, unsure of how to respond. 'You must learn to deal with the pain of others.' What if he didn't want to learn how to deal with it? Why did he have to deal with it in the first place? The boy glared daggers at the cold ground as Magneto wrenched his arm free of his death grip and haughtily exited the cell, his cape flipping almost mockingly at his heels. John quickly followed, unable to shake the feeling that he knew the girl that was lying agonized on the cage floor, and the metal bars shifted easily back into their places. The heartless old man made his way down the hallway, his rapid footsteps echoing disdainfully off the metal walls. John continued the opposite way, half in a daze of memories and flashes that haunted him from the sight he'd just seen, walking slowly and silently towards his own room. It was going to be a very long night.
~~ * ~~