History Lesson

Chapter Five: Playing Catch-up

Pietro spun around in a fury, but the room was empty. A single lightbulb swung back and forth overhead counting away the seconds. Shadows grew in one corner while shrinking in the opposite, then they receded and swarmed the other side of the room. As the small light illuminated the furthest corner, the shadows fell to reveal Magneto.

"It's one of your few flaws, Pietro, I'll admit. Your speed makes you rash . . . impulsive . . . predictable," he commented casually.

"What's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've come to talk some sense into you."

Pietro spun again, eyeing every inch of the small room. Skepticism and suspicion flashed in his liquid blue eyes. They weren't alone. "Where's the boy? Who is he? Mystique?"

"Forget the boy, merely a lure," Magneto began, stepping away from the corner. Pietro made a move, ready to exit if and when necessary. "I'm not here to punish you, Pietro. I'm here to teach you a lesson."

That didn't sound any better. Pietro sneered his father's way, allowing his silence to say all that needed to be said.

"Pietro, you must not give up the fight for our kind," Magneto said.

"I'm not your emissary – or whatever anymore. I quit. I'm going home, being normal."

"You're not 'normal' and you never will be – how can you run and hide from all that I have taught you?"

"Taught me? The only thing you ever taught me was that opportunity makes the difference between gods and ants. I'm taking my opportunity to get out while I still can," Pietro exclaimed.

Magneto shook his dead. "You stupid boy, you actually think you can live as one of them? You'd abandon your own kind for your own well-being," he muttered disdainfully. "Nothing will change this way."

"Nothing changes anyway!" Pietro shouted back.

"It will," Magneto assured his son. "Everything will change – but we must be willing to change it ourselves. We must be willing to fight for it."

"I'm too tired to fight your pointless war anymore. I'm going home." Pietro regarded Magneto with a look of finality before turning to leave. He actually thought the Master of Magnetism would let him, then the metal wire flew from Magneto's hand and wrapped itself around him. Pietro fell to the ground, struggling the frenzy of immobilization.

"I hoped it would not come to this. There are many things a father wishes to pass on to his son, but not this . . ." Magneto trailed off, looking behind him. Pietro followed his gaze. From the shadowy corner came the silhouette of the little boy into view. It focused then blurred, then refocused into that of a scraggly looking man with beady eyes. "You must fight, Pietro," Magneto continued. "If we do not fight now, then it will get worse and the horrors will escalate. The horrors will escalate to the unthinkable and then it will be too late. Too late to do anything but wait and pray for death. I know this Pietro, I've seen it . . . and now you will too."

Mastermind skulked towards the teen, wiggling his fingers in his usual manner. Pietro squirmed, looking to his father pleadingly. "No, not like Wanda."

Magneto shook his head. "No, not like Wanda. Worse."

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Cold harsh rain snapped Pietro's attention back to the present. He was suddenly aware of it, though rather soaked. His shoes, he realized had holes in them which was not advantages when traversing thick mud in a storm. He pulled up the collar to his over-coat, attempting to shield his neck from the ice-like rain drops and then stuck his hands in the too-large pockets. It felt rather familiar, yet . . .

The bus. The girl. New York. The boy. Random flashes of memory sparked in his mind's eye. He was chasing that little boy, through the door and . . . then what? Here. "Was gescheht*?" he demanded. The words were alien to him but he knew what he had said. The confusion and panic. 'What's going on?' Someone caught a firm grip of his shoulder and pushed him forward. He turned in reply, but then stopped short. He stood there, frozen by what he saw. Now everything was silent and still. 'No.'

Worn proudly by the man, the swastika stared back at him from the Nazi's uniform.

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So, it didn't come out exactly as I had envisioned, but I hope you like nonetheless. (Please tell me!!) Thanks.

* - most equivalent phrase to "What's going on/What's happening?" as my school's German teacher and I could come up with.