The Brotherhood was a well funded terrorist group. After a quick drive, we made it to a nearby airport, where we proceeded to get on a private plane. The plane had a surprisingly inviting interior, considering the owner.

This was extremely well planned. The route he'd take me on, the driver, everything is perfectly in place. He had this planned from the beginning, Logic commented.

Yes, I'm the type of person who looks at a prison cell and says 'You painted the walls pink, a color that tends to reduce aggression. Nice choice.'

Sure, I could say Logic is that kind of person, but seeing as Logic isn't a person but just another side of me… I sound rather deranged don't I?

I looked up at a clock on the opposite wall of the plane since they took my phone. It said 3:00 AM. This was around the time I saw in the car as we drove to the airport so I figured it was set to the right time zone.

I didn't need Magneto to have any other advantages over me. I'd need to be ready to bolt when the opportunity came. I couldn't very well do that if I didn't know where I was.

The time listed on clocks plus my scant (in my head anyway) understanding of geography and plant life would tell me where I was.

Well, in the US, if I end up anywhere else I'll be done.

I really wished I'd spent more time memorizing the world's time zones. How useful it is to memorize information for times when the answers weren't a finger stroke away. My time with regular income and an internet connected smartphone had made me rather lazy about this.

Regardless, I committed that time, 3:00AM to memory.

At that moment, the plane started to move.

Take off was... an experience. I watched as the plane rolled on to the runway. A sudden burst of energy propelled the plane forward like I was on a roller coaster. The motors roared louder and louder, and the plane shook like it would fall apart. At first, the only reason why I knew we had left the ground was because the plane wasn't shaking anymore, but soon the airport started looking tinier and tinier.

I'd never felt anything like it before. So I did what I always did when I found something new- I collected information.

The airport looked tiny because we were farther away, that one was obvious. The sudden weight I felt on my body was gravity pulling me down harder due to our increased speed. The turbulence was because we were flying through turbulent airflows. I couldn't however understand why my ears felt like a balloon pumped with too much air. I'd figure that out later.

I could feel every inch of the plane move as we took off. Things I'd only read about suddenly made perfect sense with this tactile demonstration. Having the ability to sense the metal as it moved, the experience was magical.

Once we were above the clouds, the floor of the plane became level. The seatbelts light turned off with a ding.

Not that I was going to get up from my seat. Instead, I stared at the fluffy clouds below. It was hard to believe that they were just water vapor and not real pillows. They certainly looked soft enough to sleep on.

"First time flying?" I looked up at the older man.

"Yes." I said with an apathetic, deadened tone.

The conversation died abruptly. I would've preferred it to stay that way.

"Do you know how to play chess?" Of course, he tried to revive it.

Did I know? I started a chess club at every school I went to. Chess was one of the few hobbies I shared with my mother.

I didn't say this. "A little."

That was a complete lie, but it wasn't as if he didn't already know the truth.

The pieces were quickly set up and I moved first. I needed that advantage big time. I knew I was a great player, but the problem was that he was better.

That's a recurring issue. I drily thought.

"Check"

What?

I looked down at my board. I'd backed my king into a corner, to block against the assault in the front of the board only to forget about the waiting rook in the corner. I'd boxed myself in.

Try as I might, I just couldn't figure out a way out of this.

"That was a surprisingly long game." He remarked.

The game was over in twenty minutes, so I felt like I had again walked into a minefield.

I immediately challenged him to another game. Which I subsequently lost.

Twenty two minutes. At least something's getting better.

"You can't win If you don't attack." He said after I again.

"Yes," I said sarcastically but with a smile. "I'll totally attack all your non-existent openings next time. Maybe that will make the game last a few extra seconds next time." Both of us laughed at this.

"Your chess club definitely lost a good player."

"Eh, they'll be fine. Henry's holding the fort."

He asked, "How did the president of the chess club end up with a permanent record an inch thick?" He asked this as if he were only making conversion, as if he hadn't kidnapped me.

Still, considering the situation the question itself seemed neutral enough.

"Zero tolerance policies. If you're in a fight you're in trouble." I rolled my eyes at the stupidity.

"Even if you didn't start it?" He asked.

"Yes. Something about conflict resolution. I didn't really care enough to listen."

The man chuckled at this.

"No, you wouldn't. I imagine as a member of the chess club you weren't very popular. "

"Nope. Not at all."

Now, reader, you're probably asking yourself, "why did Chris ever leave school when he had such a close group of friends?" Simple, because it made no sense to stay.

I could easily sneak into my school after hours and go to club then. If I could have my cake and eat it too for once then why not? I would not feel deprived if I didn't see them every day. I'm just not that kind of guy.

We had a case like this where Sally, a fellow chess player, had decided to leave town to go to top school. I didn't bother mentioning the fact that I saw the new bruises on her wrist that 'happened' to form after she told her boyfriend that she got into Harvard. She was careful to avoid letting her sleeves slide down but she eventually slipped up.

The other members of the chess club and I took our anger to the source of the problem and he "mysteriously" broke up with her the day after. Heartbroken, she left.

I now know that she became a very brilliant lawyer later on so I'm happy to say things worked out in the end.

Another game later, and I'd finally won my first match.

I needed to reaffirm my beliefs continually. I needed to know that what I thought and felt was true and applied to the real world. I felt like I was a good player, but beating Magneto, someone who'd no doubt qualify for professional competitions, confirmed it.

I didn't bother hiding my smile. I wanted to end the game now, on a high note. But at the same time, I knew he'd definitely catch onto my plan and any happiness I gained from winning would quickly turn to exasperation.

So when I heard that he wanted to change the game I agreed readily.

Which led to the strangest challenge I'd ever done. At that point at least, I've been to my share of college parties in the meantime.

I was blindfolded and had to figure out what the shape of a metal object was by sensing the magnetic fields around it.

No touching or sight or even hearing allowed. He kept the object floating in mid-air while I tried to identify it.

Like him, I was also curious about how well I could sense the metal around me, though I didn't admit it.

Considering I had a pretty good grasp of geometry, I figured I'd be fine.

"Begin." Magneto said, I blocked out everything but the feeling of the floating metal ball's magnetic field.

The ball suddenly had six flat sides. The strength of the fields felt the same on all of those, leading to my first guess.

"So a cube then?"

"Correct." He sounded pleased.

The cube shifted again. The sides on the bottom and top felt exactly the same as before. However, the other sides suddenly had a weaker but longer magnetic field.

I needed to think about that for a second.

The only way the field could feel longer yet weaker would be if he stretched it out. That makes the four sides longer than the two on the top and bottom.

"A rectangle" I said.

"Actually, a rectangular prism." Of course he'd point that out.

I sighed.

"I had the right idea. Normally I wouldn't make that mistake." What can I say? It was 4 AM at home and I was tired.

"Doesn't make you any less wrong."

Even though he couldn't see it, I'm sure he could tell I was rolling my eyes under the blindfold.

The game started again. The rectangle (yes I'm calling it that out of spite even if the terminology is wrong) bent in half on the long side.

That was all I could get.

"So why exactly did you bend a rectangle- rectangular prism in half?" I asked.

"Open your eyes and see."

That does not answer my question.

I took off the strip of cloth.

With my sight, I could see that the rectangular prism bent in half looked exactly like a gun. It even had the grooves on the side that I should've been able to feel.

Of course, it wouldn't fire but I knew that was besides the point.

The point was, I lacked the attention to detail needed for me to actually use my abilities well. I could tell the general shape of something sure, but at the end of the day if I wasn't able to tell the difference between a gun and a 'bent rectangular prism' I was not going to get far.

There is a difference between sensing a general shape and knowing in detail what something is without looking at it.

Just like there is a difference between knowing something's color and what it's depicting.

The fact that he didn't bother telling me this annoyed me. He just knew what conclusion I'd come to.

"You need training, Chris."

I answered this statement with silence. Somber, demoralized silence.