I remember getting messages about how abrupt Chris's shift to Magneto's side was and decided to expand on it by having a series of vignettes. I think it turned out well.
Sir
Calling him sir wasn't a planned thing or whatever. Maybe I started calling him sir because I was subconsciously trying to gain his trust. It sort of just- slipped out.
Early one morning, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, Magneto was doing what he always did, giving orders, "Good morning. To wake you up, you'll be running laps from your location to that tree and back."
Yawning, while blinking away the sun's weak morning rays, I said, "Yes, sir."
"Don't get sarcastic with me, Alster. If you have the energy to think of retorts, you have the energy to train," he frowned, but did nothing more.
"Re-retorts?"
The elderly man mentally rewinded our conversation, played it, then returned to the present, astonished, "A warm-up is required for your training today."
"Oh, right. Sorry," and then that word was said again, "sir."
That day's early morning run really was a slow walk and my astonished teacher didn't correct me.
It wasn't like I was trying to butter him up. It was simply a natural consequence of how, as time went on, he settled into the role of being my teacher. At home, I didn't call any of my teachers by their first names. It felt disrespectful. Additionally, 'Mr, Magneto' sounded weird. So 'sir' was the only option.
My usage of the word at first was rare and intermittent, water droplets falling out of a supposedly 'off' faucet. In a week, however, it settled into a steady, predictable stream.
I don't get why he was so surprised. I'd a while ago stopped muttering words under my breath and making shell-shaped indentations in my palms when he gave me orders.
His reaction to my new vocabulary word after the initial shock was narrowed and suspicious eyes.
It put him in quite a bind, though. A respectful student was preferred, and telling me to cut it out would discourage my good behavior. Yet, he also didn't want to be lulled into complacency.
During one of our breaks between training and lunch, I chose to spend time in his office.
Suddenly I was told, "Get the teakettle in the kitchen."
Nodding, I left the room. After I returned with the object, I wondered how we'd drink anything without cups.
To my surprise, there were already cups in the office. How did I not notice them? Drinking the tea without giving him some would have been impolite and against how my Mom raised me, so I poured some tea into his and then my cup.
He didn't move.
A joke about how the yearly continental drift of North America moved more than he did came to mind. It went unsaid.
I drank first. And only after did he drink some. Looking back, his face seemed to show that he was thinking, 'of course, he'd act this way. He's not that foolish.'
Not deterred, he left the room.
Unbeknownst to me, he'd set the room up with several tiny hidden cameras. When he checked them, he did not find me placing chemicals to poison him in the cup. This was despite several being available nearby. I took a nap instead.
This same course of events happened with things like the cookies I liked to make. I didn't figure out that he was testing me. Poisoning someone was too out of left field. To him, assassination attempts were a normal inconvenience comparable to getting stuck in traffic.
It was a pleasant change in pace to do things like drink tea with him and talk.
He'd also do things like 'forget' to place a tracking bracelet on me and then leave during a mission. I'd remain in place, too focused on any work he assigned to care.
He later upgraded to telling me to go out on errands. Perhaps I needed to deliver some papers, buy a book, or get some food. Each time, I was closely monitored using agents and cameras. It was during these errands that I noticed that something was up. Still, I completed my assigned tasks.
Over time, his paranoia faded. I wasn't planning a foolish escape that would lead to me exposing my secret to a world that hated mutants. I wasn't going to poison him as revenge for my loss of freedom. His narrowed eyes turned instead into a fond expression when I greeted him by saying, "Morning sir."
Killing
My fear of killing others had to be eliminated. Turning a shy boy into a soldier that killed on command was an unenviable task. My teacher started by having us go on regular trips off the island for missions. This often meant executing humans that ran programs to torment mutants or killing traitors. While he could get someone else to do these things, he saw them as valuable learning opportunities.
During my early missions, I was very sloppy. Often, I'd stab the target in the chest and have a knife come out the other side to make it quick. Blood would get everywhere, but my teacher would say nothing. It was good enough that I killed someone.
Sometimes I screamed, other times I fainted, and often I'd emotionally shut down and become incapable of feeling anything. Regardless, I always ended up killing at least one person. If there were two targets and I only killed one, that was acceptable, but I had to kill at least someone. That was non-negotiable.
If I fainted before killing anyone, the targets would be taken on a plane to our island or some other location and after I woke up, I'd be reminded of my task. Despite how I never liked any of the men I had to kill, I often broke down in front of my teacher and begged him to not make me do it. I'd told him again and again how much it hurt to see the light in their eyes vanish, how their blood-laden throat gurgles made my stomach churn.
This never worked. He'd let me beg, cry and scream and after all my emotions were released and I'd gone silent, he'd tell me, "This has to be done."
He did what he could to help me. He allowed me to wear noise-canceling headphones for a while, at first. He told me of the crimes of the people I was to kill. He told me of the good that would come of my actions.
If I passed out, I'd wake up draped in blankets (always two) and encased by the smell of tea. A few hurried gulps later and after a brief talk where he comforted me, I'd have to kill the targets.
Missions
During missions, we'd get to the location and the target would be quickly subdued. I was still too sensitive for him to take me on missions where people were interrogated. So, there'd be only one task left.
"Electron," He'd say with an expectant voice.
My responses varied. Most of the time I said, "I can't."
I couldn't take the life of another person. What right did I have to permanently extinguish the flames of someone's life?
Why couldn't he do this? He was the strong one, not me.
On one notable day, my instructor, like always, refused to lose faith in my abilities, "Electron, yes, you can. This man doesn't deserve to live- you said so yourself."
That's easy to say when you're upset, but hard to follow up on. Logic unhelpfully pointed out.
A few cries broke free from our target, despite his mouth being covered by a pipe. The other magnetokinetic frowned and readjusted the restraint. The room was quiet again.
For a while, I said nothing. I studied the man's apartment. It was so… normal considering what kind of monster he was. Bestselling books still in their plastic wrapping took up table space, a flower plant was blooming nicely next to them, and many photos of our target doing things like being with family, visiting a beach, and graduating high school were scattered about.
Maybe it's normal looking because the people who do horrible things to mutants are normal. And your average person can be worse than people think… I bet if I say something like that, Magneto would agree.
I spoke haltingly while recalling my assigned reading, "He's a murderer that targets mutants. But- but only the ones that look different, n-not those with the ability to fight back."
Our prisoner sent a scowl my way, it as if the man was saying, 'So what? They deserved it.'
"Very good," the magnetokinetic first praised me, then his tone became firmer, "He's a murderous coward that has been allowed to freely prey on our people for months."
A flash of gray rushed past and embedded itself into our target's left arm. There was a snapping sound. Then, the metal exited out the other end. A look of agony blossomed on our target's face, but he remained silent. I looked away.
Magneto continued, "We, the mutants with the power to stop him, have an obligation to do so for the safety of those who cannot."
"Yes, sir." I whispered. Someone had to stop people like him. If no one did, more would die.
Still, that person who'd stop him. It couldn't be me.
My legs moved before I was even aware, out of the common room area and into a randomly picked door. A loud slam came next.
I pushed past many coats, then curled up into a ball. Maybe if I just stayed in here, my mentor would get annoyed and kill the murderer himself? Even in my frenzied, trembling state, that logic fell flat. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to do anything but hide.
I heard my teacher through the door, "Electron."
"Y- y-yes, sir," I was terrified, but I'd been too well-trained to not answer when called.
"You haven't accomplished your objective," he reminded, his words equipped with a cool metallic edge. Was I in trouble?
"I can't. I can't. I'm sorry, please. I can't do this. I'm weak. I apologize for wasting your time."
All that talk I'd done about wanting life to be better for mutants, and yet I couldn't kill one monster to save innocents? Now I was scared and disappointed in myself.
"Electron, you are not weak. You are forbidden from calling yourself that." That firm tone didn't go away. I had to be in trouble.
"Yes, sir."
Then, it was replaced with something softer, more flexible, understanding, even, "You needn't worry about time. My whole day is free. I understand how hard killing is for you. But this has to be done."
I despised that sentence. When my teacher said 'this has to be done' that meant that he would ignore my wishes. Again. It meant that it didn't matter how much I begged him to not make me do this. Anything I did- yelling, screaming, pleading, would all mean nothing. The outcome was predetermined.
He chose his next words with care, "There are many terrible men like him out in the world and if you encounter them alone, you won't have the luxury of running into a closet to - regain your thoughts."
For a while, nothing was said, then I whispered, "I'm a mutant. People want me dead due to how I was born. If I can't kill them, they'll kill me first."
His compassionate tone didn't leave. "Unfortunately, not everyone shares your high regard for the value of life. Not teaching you to kill those who'd harm you would be neglect."
All combinations of phonemes died on my lips. My silence was not a choice, but a compulsion.
The magnetokinetic revived our conversation. "You won't be punished. I know that I'm forcing you to act against your nature. Still, that's why you aren't doing this alone. If anything goes awry, I'll fix it."
"You just can't fix how terrible I feel about killing people," I snapped. It wasn't like me to throw snarky remarks at my teacher, but it also wasn't like me to kill people.
"No, I can't… That will be up to you."
It would've been better if he responded with anger. But he didn't, so I felt like garbage. Not only could I not kill a terrible person, but I was also snapping at the Magneto? The man that ensured that I wasn't imprisoned in a government laboratory? The man that taught me all I knew, ensured that my Mom was getting the best medical treatment possible, and gave me a home where there was no danger of me going without. I'd snapped at that man?
"I'm sorry," I rushed through my words, "If he attacked me, I'd just be another victim. You training me is the reason why I don't have to deal with psychos like him. I shouldn't talk back. It's rude and ungrateful and and -"
"Don't concern yourself about it."
"Yes, sir."
The door creaked open, and my teacher fetched me from the closet. I didn't resist, a sort of numbness had set in.
"We'll kill him together," he said as he led me out.
I nodded. No sound passed my lips.
I was guided to the room where our target was still restrained. My body leaned on my mentor and he accepted the weight. His arm on my shoulder kept me rooted as my head spun.
A tiny handheld gun inched over to me and I soon held it in a magnetic gasp. My mentor did the same.
He said, "One, two-"
Our target was soon just another slab of meat. It was impossible to think otherwise. When you've watched a living, breathing person's body go still, and seen the blood leaking from various bullet holes, the comparison comes naturally.
The image of steak on a grill came to mind, juices flowing out as the meat cooked. The smell of raw flesh was even somewhat similar.
Clearly, my stomach was training to be an Olympian. It did 3 backflips and 2 somersaults.
On that day, and many other days like it, my mentor would allow me to silently cry as he made arrangements to remove any evidence. It only took one call. No chances could be taken with my safety.
"You've done well. I'm proud of you." How could someone so nearby sound so far away?
Maybe I wasn't actually there? This not being real would be nice.
Still, dream or not, my superior had said something to me. I had to acknowledge him.
Again I silently nodded. This lack of words was allowed.
Some unseen birds sang a short, chipper tune. What type were they?
At least someone's feeling ok right now.
Magneto spoke in a sympathetic, but educational tone, and I, as his student, would listen, "He will never harm anyone again. You've saved many of our kind from his predations. It's fine that you hesitated."
In my dazed state, his words were of no concern to me. A nearby window was of more interest. I caught sight of a tree, but there was no sign of any birds.
My teacher continued, "The very moral compass that makes you do good is the very thing that makes it hard for you to permanently stop evil."
He added, "Give it time. You'll adjust." He placed an arm around my shoulders and led me out of the apartment.
"I don't want to." The words almost didn't leave my chest. You could tell by how weakly I'd spoken them.
If I wasn't so numb, I would've panicked. After all, I'd talked back.
His eyes moved left and right, then settled on one direction, "I know. But you must."
I whispered, "Yes, sir," as he guided me to a waiting car.
From my left window, I spotted the singing animals. They had two pairs of black eyes, brown feathers, and rounded white bellies with a myriad of brown spots.
The web search I did, helped realign me with reality. By some fluke, my phone had internet. So they were wood thrushes?
Don't you want to live? That's why Magneto is doing this. He doesn't want something awful to happen to us because we didn't have the nerve to fight back. Wisdom pointed out.
I want to live. But if so, why is defending myself and others from bad people so hard?
A car ride whisked us to an elegant restaurant.
I didn't even open my menu. My teacher's eyes shifted back and forth between two places, the menu with its inviting meats, and my exhausted expression. The waiter spoke of their many meaty dishes.
I shook my head, "No! No meat. Please. I'll have soup instead." It had been the first words I'd spoken with feeling in a while. Just the thought of meat made me sick.
"As will I," my mentor said.
The waiter thought our choices were odd, but meatless soups were obtained.
I minded my manners and thanked him after our meal. When he bought me some books. I also thanked him for this action. Still, my words were too scripted. When he spoke of the unique crafting methods done on a metallic statue, I offered no original thoughts.
On that day, none of his usual tactics to revive my mood worked. Food didn't work, nor did buying books, going to a museum, or listening to an orchestra performance. I didn't complain, but I couldn't shake my sadness. The fact that I remained depressed also made me feel worse. After all, Magneto was concerned and was trying so hard to make me feel better. The hurt only compounded.
We had a routine to do activities after ending a life, and I had a routine that helped me maintain politeness despite my mood. Yes, I felt terrible, but that didn't give me the right to make others feel lousy.
Answering any fact-based questions was easier. There was only one right answer.
When we got to our hotel suite, I bolted to my room, hid under several blankets, and hugged my pillow. With imagination, I could pretend it was my mom I was hugging.
My teacher wasn't far behind. Sometimes, he was quiet, and when he spoke it without malice or criticism. After a while, my tiredness chased away reality.
We kept going on missions. Eventually, the emotional pain was so ever-present that I didn't even notice it anymore. It was simply a fact of life. Was my mood always this dour and solemn?
Logically, I knew this wasn't the case, but thinking back to happier never to return days was too painful. I longed to bring them back and perhaps redo things. Exchange the days I spent reading at home for more time with friends. Only with foresight could I see that I had taken many things for granted.
My current reality was that I was Magneto's student. In this reality, I woke up early and studied and trained until late. In this reality, many wanted to kill me because of my genetics. And in this reality, my teacher would do anything to stop them, even if it meant subjecting me to emotional torment.
With time, I could kill a few people at once with assistance, but I also needed to have the stomach to fire bullets at enemies without hesitation.
The first stage of his plan complete, he'd later bring prisoners to the island and told me to send bullets at them. All were guilty of heinous crimes and had little in the way of redeeming characteristics.
That meant nothing. I still found I couldn't do as I was told. I'd freeze up whenever he told me to fire. The most common way I tried to escape this burden was by running off.
I never got far. A shield would encase me, or I'd be restrained by nearby metal.
When he caught up to me, first he'd be stern and remind me of my orders. Then, several more compassionate words would be said. After that, I'd be made to follow orders.
To his credit, I was never expected to train after such an ordeal. The rest of the day would be mine.
I tended to spend this time either mutely following my teacher around or hiding from everyone. It depended on how awful I felt.
With time, this also became easier.
Overkill
Anger was a common reaction of his when I spoke of my past. When I spoke of being hit, it was as if it had been him that felt the sting of the strap, not me. He certainly acted like it.
Once, I'd accidentally said the name of one man who harmed me, and later he was found dead. I'd found out from the internet since I'd earned partial access to that.
I immediately rushed out of my room, rounded several corners, and saw his helmet atop a table. He was in the library. Good.
The door squeaked shut, "Sir."
"Yes?" Magneto was seated at his personal desk, which no one dared to touch.
"Uh- the guy I told you about-"
"He's dead. Yes, I know," in a practiced, efficient manner, he signed a page.
Given how often I'd seen him be so unaffected when sentencing someone to death, I really didn't need to ask.
I did anyway, "Did you…"
"Of course I did. It's the only explanation that makes sense. He had many more decades to live." A smirk now covered his countenance. He thoroughly enjoyed the fact that he made someone a past tense.
"Then why?"
"He mistreated my student. There needn't be any more of a reason." For a while, there was only the sound of his pen drifting on paper.
A smarter, alternate Electron would've let the conversation end there. I'm not him.
"Sir- I- you didn't need to-"
"I know I didn't have to, but when you told me of the things that beast did to you… It was an easy decision," he continued signing his papers while seated.
"Sir, just hurting me isn't worthy of anyone's death. My well-being isn't that important," it was only moments later that I realized my folly.
My eyes grew wide and my mouth became tiny.
In his predictable manner, Magneto exploded, finally looking up from his work, "That is completely false! Your well-being is extremely important. Has anyone here told you this?"
I shook my head with panicked terror, "N-no, not at all, sir."
He'd killed someone for something that had happened years ago. What if he punished Toad for messing with me, despite the teasing and torment being mutual?
He then said, "Regardless of the outcome, anyone that harms you is to be treated as an enemy. In such a situation, there is no such thing as 'overkill.' Understood?"
My teacher's words were law, and I could feel the hum of the magnetic power that ensured it's enforcement.
"Yes, sir."
He shook his head, "Electron, your low self-esteem is concerning. It could lead you to not prioritize your own safety." He sighed, resigned to the fact that he'd need to add this to his list of things he'd need to change about me, "Dismissed."
I did not run to my room in fear. I simply got to my room much quicker than normal via the usage of my legs.
After a few moments, it came to my attention that this seemed oddly familiar. Yes, I'd seen anger like this before. I'd unsafely used my tools once and severely wounded my hand. At my Mother's command, I lost all tool privileges for months. Though her anger was never this intense, never murderous.
Though I'm sure if it came down to it, she can be. If it was life or death.
Well, assuming she doesn't know. If she did…
I dropped that sentence before it could drag me into darker thoughts.
Magneto knew, and he still was this adamant about my safety? It was certainly a strange thing.
Neglect
While reading another law about how the humans planned to strip mutants of their rights, I recalled something "Oh no, the house."
"What's wrong?" My mentor asked.
As I highlighted a sentence, I said, "We had property taxes to pay on it. And before I left, there were bills."
"I have handled them," he said in his usual 'think nothing of it' manner. No doubt, he wanted me to continue working on my assignment.
"But even the-"
"They were paid off." he insisted. "You don't need to worry."
"Oh, um ok. That's good."
I continued studying. By then, me studying in his office (or gloomily moping- depending on if I had to kill anyone that day) was so common that I had my own desk. It wasn't as large or imposing as his, but it was my own dedicated space.
I fetched another highlighter from the desk's side compartment.
My teacher spoke, "Electron, why did you leave school?"
I thought for a moment, "I - I wasn't really learning much, some kids were mean to me, and so I could work more and help Mom out. So I guess a lot of reasons."
"Don't say 'I guess,' you are either sure of something or you are not." He corrected.
"Yes, sir."
"Was the signature on the form to leave school hers?"
Why did that question feel like only a prelude to something more?
"Y- yes."
"Did she try to switch you to another school?" His words were swords, sharp and dangerous.
"No. She didn't-. There were other schools, but she didn't see the point." I then noticed that I had highlighted the word 'the' at least 10 times. My ink bled through, staining the desk.
Based on this information, he made his conclusion, "She didn't care."
His flat tone would've fooled most people. Not me. I knew how that was often a mirage. How that calm could snap into a terrifying rage at a moment's notice.
"Sh-she she's fine with most things I do. Well, assuming I have the right beliefs, get married, have a family, and stuff. There's no pressure when it comes to school. It's not a big deal, sir. You don't need to -"
My teacher's voice easily overtook mine, "Electron, do you know what your mother's actions are legally called?"
"No."
"Neglect. Parental neglect. She didn't even pursue alternatives to you quitting your education. Don't try to calm me down, you're the wronged party here. You deserved better," He sighed. "At least you won't endure that anymore."
Magneto viewed me as a child that he needed to sometimes emotionally support. This clashed with how I acted. Without my Mom to care for, I did my best to avoid creating unpleasant situations for others. This meant not making a big deal out of things. No wonder we often didn't understand each others actions.
It was a strange thing to see him be so angry on my behalf. I had fully accepted my mom's lack of care about my studies. She loved me. How could I ask for more?
Magneto didn't agree. In his view, since I was a child, I had certain rights, and this included a right to an education. If I'd only left because of money, he would've understood and not blamed Mom, but since she didn't care… His view on things was different.
My teacher was full of odd ideas. Strange ideas. For example, the idea that I 'deserved better' than the treatment I got from my mom. The idea that her actions could be seen as her taking (in his words) 'her wonderful son for granted.'
He seemed to be personally affronted by such a notion. For some reason. These sorts of strange ideas guided his decisions.
During another call, my attempts to keep mutants from being talked about failed.
"Damn muties. They found several 'babies' of their kind abandoned in the woods." She added, "Their mom should've drowned them instead."
I swallowed, once again grateful that I did not tell her my secret. "Mom, you're ok with babies dying?"
"That's just the disguise they use. They're abominations from hell. Either they made a deal with Satan or this is a punishment for their parent's sins. Either way, mutants can't be allowed to breathe our same air."
A pause then she said, "If the older mutants had any semblance of morality, they'd kill themselves and save others the trouble."
"M-Mom?" Yes, I'd heard things like this before, but it had been so long since this sort of rhetoric had come up. Even worse, she was actually saying mutants deserve to die. Not that they were only morally lacking.
"Yes, dear?"
"I-I n-nothing! Love you, bye!" I did not hesitate when I pressed 'end call.'
My mentor knew something was up without even hearing what she said. And to think, this was the day I'd earned the right to speak on the phone with her without using the speaker button.
He asked. I told him everything.
"Mom thinks I'm not worthy of life. If - if she knew," I shook my head, then took a seat in a chair.
If my mom was there, I'm sure Magneto would've killed her. 'How dare you harm my student?' was what his glare said.
She wasn't there so he said, "She's wrong."
I averted my gaze, now feeling unworthy, "How could she be? She's my mom?"
"No one has the right to deprive you of your life, Electron. Not even the mother who gave it to you in the first place."
"Yes sir."
Nothing was said. I broke first.
"She hates me. Even if she's nice now. She hates me since I'm really a mutant. If I ever tell her anything… I'll have no family at all. I'll be alone," the thought made me shiver.
"That isn't-" He seemed to want to say more, "You won't be alone," is what he settled with.
"Yes, Sir."
I didn't shake my Mom's words off for a week. In response, my teacher restricted my ability to call my mom. When I asked him to reconsider, he only needed to point to the bout of depression that he had to rouse me out of because of her 'chat' as evidence for why that was a bad idea.
To him, the evidence was clear. Not only was he my guardian, but my mother was a negative influence on my development. My interactions with her needed to be controlled. She could harm me worse than anyone else could. Weeks of work on my self-esteem ruined in an afternoon.
Parkour
At home, I liked to do parkour moves with friends. We'd jump from building to building. Luckily, none of us ever got hurt.
Sure, we knew we were risking becoming paraplegics, but that pit in your stomach when you drop down, combined with a small amount of fear that turns into triumph, made it all worth it. So we kept jumping. Not all of us, though. Most of the girls and a few of the guys were smart enough not to.
On one of the few temperate afternoons, I mixed my parkour skills with my training.
This is a crazy idea. Logic pointed out.
Rebellion chimed in. Which is why we should do it. After all, we're mutants, our lives are crazy. We eat, sleep and breathe crazy. And with our powers, we can literally tell gravity to fuck off. Life's too short, man.
And falling to our deaths is a great way to make our life even shorter. Logic retorted. Whatever, Chris is a reasonable guy. He's not going to.
A suitably tall balcony was located. It also was next to others like it.
What is wrong with you? He yelled.
Unfortunately, saying this made him sound like my mentor, which made me more willing to not listen.
My plan was simple: jump from one balcony to another, the faster, the better.
I'd done this many times before having my powers, so there was zero hesitation when I charged forward.
My feet connected with the rail, then I leaped into the sky,
The distance between the balcony and the ground below looked so much larger from this above. I landed gracefully on the platform ahead.
The next balcony beckoned me over. The distance between was greater than the last.
Nothing I can't handle.
I ran forward and jumped in the same way as before. Careful about the added spacing I had to clear, I tucked my body inward and rolled. In a manner superior to the last, I landed.
The gulf between the second platform and the third was immense. However, since it was the last balcony to clear before I'd done them all, I didn't want to stop.
It would be impossible to jump. Flight was an option, but that felt like cheating. But jumping and flying? That felt perfect.
I ran forward just like the other two times before, then I hefted myself up by jumping atop the railing, the same as before, and I was soon in the air, just as before.
My heart pounded, and my hands were soaked in sweat. This was a jump that only someone like me could do. Not even a top olympian who trained their whole lives could.
The earth's magnetic field was grabbed, tugged, then released. I was shot forward.
Owww.
The pain came first. It was as if an animal had bitten me and wouldn't let go. Then, I was pulled. Hard.
I was yanked back to the second balcony and landed on my rear.
"Ughh."
Squinting away the sun, I perceived a person standing above me. Soon I saw the very very displeased face of Magneto.
I'm not one for bragging. But the words 'I told you so' are appropriate. Well, would be if I was the bragging type. Logic said.
"What were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed!"
"I-I"
"Well? Explain yourself." He demanded.
"I- I wanted to do parkour."
"Par-kour?"
"Yes, by… combining jumping with flight?"
"Get up."
I do so. A backhand collided with my face.
"It's- sir, I know that looks pretty bad but It's not a big deal. I can fly, so even if I didn't make the jump-"
He interrupted, "You could've broken a limb."
"Exactly! It wouldn't have been a big deal. Broken arms or legs aren't that bad." It's amazing how differently two people can react to the same facts.
My teacher didn't agree, and I was thoroughly lectured.
Anger released, a familiar look of contemplation appeared, "Electron, you're very blasé about these things… Did you… harm yourself often after doing these stunts?
"N- no. Never anything serious."
I wanted to lie but didn't.
"Then how? You're far too casual about the possibility of being injured. It must've happened before, multiple times."
Damn it! Magneto's like an old bloodhound tracking a scent. Does anything get past this guy? Rebellion said
I stared at ground and stumbled through my words. He had his answer.
"Of course," he drawled, lip curled with contempt, "the homo sapiens."
My punishment was the loss of all electronic-related privileges, extra chores, and being forced to handwrite a 10-page paper.
In this paper, I had to write why my actions were wrong and promise to never do anything like it again.
The hardest part was writing why what I did was wrong. Eventually, I was so out of ideas that I asked him for help.
"Of course jumping like that was wrong," he said with a raised eyebrow. "You could've gotten hurt."
Seated at my desk, I looked at the large blank spot on the paper where words should've been. "What's wrong with me being hurt? At worst, I would've died and even that's not a big deal. You're acting like that sort of stuff matters."
Something dawned on him, "You- you truly don't think your life has value."
"Sir, I'm a nobody. I don't matter at all. It's not a big deal if anything happens to me."
The lack of a response from my never-shy teacher made me look up. Rather than angrily lecturing me, he seemed extremely… sad? I shook my head. I must've been seeing things. However, the expression didn't fade.
He then listed several reasons why my life mattered. I wanted to believe them, but I couldn't because they were too disconnected from how my entire life had played out. I was always an unimportant nobody. That's why people in the various cults bullied my mom and me. That's why we often went without.
Still, it felt nice that my teacher thought I mattered.
I wrote my paper. Once I was done writing it, I had to rewrite it 20 times. My fingers were sore for weeks.
Empathy
My empathy is a limited resource. And in the case of horrendous mutant killing monsters, my tank was running on empty.
It took many, many repetitions, but one day, I found that I didn't care. At that moment, I didn't care that my teacher was electrocuting many anti-mutant bigots to death. I didn't care about the smell of melted flesh. I did care that several more goons had replaced the first ones.
You just had to show up. Thanks to you, we might end up late for our lunch reservations. I had to actually call someone on the phone to make that appointment!
A vein on my forehead appeared as I saw my teacher start his typical theatrics. His booming voice and large gestures were easily ignored, as were the shaking knees of the bigots.
To hell with this.
A nearby toolbox was located, and many screws were set forth. A hammer killed the least lucky man.
My teacher raised an eyebrow.
I simply said, "We have a reservation in 20 minutes. The car ride takes about that long."
We got to our appointment. The food was amazing. And the praise from Magneto for 'taking initiative' was even better. I found it very amusing that I was being praised for killing humans while we sat in a restaurant full of them.
Calls
During my calls with my mother, a pattern occurred. My teacher often became displeased when seeing us interact.
Sometimes he kept silent, but other times he expressed his opinions. One day, I was standing in his office speaking on the phone.
The phone had been on speaker mode, and my mom was giving me what she saw as 'needed moral instruction' when the phone leaped out of my hand and was crushed into a ball.
"So this is where you got your idea that you don't matter," He half yelled, "from your own mother?"
"I- It's a fundamental part of her beliefs. People are all horrid, broken, and morally disgusting in their own ways." I decided this was a good time to admire the metal floor below us. "And we're all insignificant. That doesn't mean we can't care for each other, but even rats have friends."
If my teacher was displeased before, now he was incensed, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
"Yes, sir," I did so. He was so upset, I wanted to avert my gaze but didn't.
"Electron, you are not in any way equivalent to a rat. And yes, I know you are using the word for comparison. It doesn't matter. Even the implication…" He shook his head.
Then, his eyes narrowed, "Has she ever called you anything like that?" He demanded.
Newly formed perspiration ran down my neck, "N-not her but…"
"Who?" The contempt the man radiated could freeze an ocean! I couldn't give names. He looked too murderous. Lowering my self-esteem wasn't worth the death penalty.
"The leaders of a lot of the places we went to did. Umm, rats are social, intelligent creatures, but also feed on the things of others. Not worthy of the resources that allow them to exist. And that's why they are pests, assuming they don't work to serve a higher purpose."
The purpose that the cults said humans had to serve to have worth varied, but the idea was common. This feeling of worthlessness was the reason why the cults Mom went to grew so quickly. Everyone has insecurities. It's just a matter of getting your hooks into someone and using them.
"They'd call their own followers pests?"
"Yes."
For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. No one breathed.
My teacher said, "I'm sorry."
"I'm fine."
He looked me over. "No, no you're not."
This confused me. There was nothing wrong with me. My health was fine. What was he talking about?
At times, he'd end our calls, particularly when she spoke about many of the beliefs she had. He couldn't tolerate me being told how I'd be unworthy of existence unless I did a litany of things.
After this, I made sure to steer my mom away from speaking about morality.
Codependent?
He also disliked how I often acted as if I was my Mom's parent. Years of caring for her couldn't be undone. I avoided topics to not harm her, avoided showing emotions she didn't respond well to. I rarely said how I truly felt. The second I heard that anything was wrong, I'd ask to visit her.
On one occasion, after I'd pleaded my case, as he sat at his desk, my teacher said, "Electron, she's an adult. She's being cared for by professionals that can help her. You aren't responsible for her care anymore."
"But I-" Whatever he wanted me to do, surely it could wait! I had to see my mom. She needed my help! I had to leave.
I promised to catch up on any missed lessons and train even harder than normal. I had to see her.
"No. This codependency is unhealthy for you. It's time you step away and focus on your own needs and wants. You're a child, you don't need to look after her anymore," He read through a list of names, then started placing a checkmark next to the ones to be killed.
The idea was absurd, ridiculous even. I had to be there for her. Who else would? She had no one.
"But I- I've never,"
He looked up. "Don't argue. You'll learn."
He went back to checking names.
Rolling R's
Magneto started my Spanish studies by handing me a large textbook and commanding me to insert several sentences in my brain by the end of the week. The memorization wasn't hard- I carried a list on a page and took it out my pocket during my free moments to study. Pronunciation- that was the hardest part. The G made a guh sound until it didn't, then it sounded like an H. H's were mirages since really the H sound was made with a J. Even worse, when listening, telling the difference between a C or S was a coin flip.
The worst sound was the rolled R. The sound just wouldn't come through. So I practiced, again and again, breathing out while contorting my tongue in every direction. Turns out, having a sore throat while making an R sound was a bad sign.
Magneto was of little help. "The common technique is to say the words 'ladder' and 'butter' quickly while breathing out."
What kind of explanation was that?
Still, I carried on, frowning in the mirror as I tried my best to find out what I was doing wrong. It was a real sound. People made it. I was a person with a working mouth and tongue. It could be done. I still couldn't do it.
One day, I slammed my textbook closed. ¿Por qué yo tienes que aprender español?
Why do I have to learn Spanish?
While I was learning Spanish from him, I was forbidden from speaking in English.
—Es un lenguaje muy importante con millones de oradores. Y 'Por que yo tengo que aprender español' es la manera correcta de hablar. Ya se español. Tú eres el que todavía está aprendiendo.
Him "It's a very important language with millions of speakers. And 'why do I have to* need to learn Spanish' is the correct way of speaking. I already know Spanish. You are the one who is still learning."
Even then, he couldn't stop his corrections. Still, he let me off easy, and we moved from Spanish to other training.
While heaving after an exercise, I heard an odd sound. Wait, that sound was coming from my throat! It almost sounded like… a trill?
All those hours of practice made me try to make an RR sound without thinking! I took a deep breath and let the airflow.
"Rr." My face split with a smile. I did it again, hesitantly testing to see if I could still do it "Arroz."
Rice
I could. My smile got even bigger "Perro! Zorro! Tierra!"
Dog! Fox! Earth.
This was my variation on 'she sells seashells by the seashore.'
"Perro! Zorro! Tierra!" I said it much faster this time. I did this again and again. At some point, I realized I had jumped into the air, flown around while spinning, and was saying these same words like a mad warlock casting a spell. During training.
Oh no.
No translations needed for this one.
My mentor was too amused to be angry. Which made me want to crawl into a hole and die. And yes, he did later get a physical disk of one of the many Zorro movies to mess with me.
*explanation- Chris said 'yo tienes que' when the proper way of saying 'I have to' is 'yo tengo que'. 'Tienes que' means 'you have to'. Magneto understood what he was trying to say and corrected him. For clarity, I used what Chris meant to say rather than his actual words.
Transition
There was a strange transitional phase between the time when I decided I was a member of the brotherhood and when Magneto fully trusted me.
If I have to describe it in one word, frustrating, is what I'd use. I had no plans of escape, yet I still had to use books and encyclopedias to learn math? The whole internet was out there, calling me. Derivatives are so much easier to understand with videos.
For part of this time, I could not speak on the phone unsupervised. This meant Magneto had to listen to the conversations I had with my friends from home about various video games. After these calls, he'd question me to ensure I didn't secretly send a distress message since the man knew nothing about video games.
He didn't even know what FPS stood for!
One bright side, though, was since the others didn't trust me, any treats I made were guaranteed to be eaten only by me.
For a while.
Toad tried to remain aloof but quickly caved in after I made my Mom's peanut brittle.
Yes, I made the treat solely to taunt him. What? Remember, I had no internet. I needed to amuse myself somehow.
Intel
Everyone plans to not say anything to Magneto until they get tortured. Logic observed as I watched my mentor 'work' on a prisoner through one-way glass.
Within a minute, the prisoner was screaming for his mother. Not that I could blame him. This was far worse than any punishment I'd gotten. That man's top layer of flesh was boiling oil. This liquid then seeped down into his skin's lower layers, turning it a charred black.
Empathy gone, the only thing left that I could feel was a smug satisfaction. He had participated in actions that killed many and this would be his punishment. He deserved to die like this, in a bare metallic coffin of a room, with a single fluorescent light hung above.
My orders were to watch my teacher do this and take notes. I watched.
"Where are the servers holding information on mutants located?" My mentor hadn't even asked the man questions until then.
"Scr- screw you."
Not bad. Rebellion said.
The torment continued. It only took another minute before he told us everything. I was rebuked for not taking notes.
After a few more sessions with different people, it was my turn. Sure, I'd interrogated people before, but this was the first time I'd do it alone with no guidance. Instead of remaining in the room with me, we switched positions. He was in the room outside the chamber and I was inside.
My teacher chose a much easier target. Rather than being given a soldier trained to resist torture, my target was a run-of-the-mill monster. He'd kidnap mutant girls and if they were lucky, he only killed them.
Despite my experience, and despite my newfound lack of care for scum like him, I didn't interrogate him. I couldn't.
I was too busy lighting him up brighter than a Christmas tree. How dare he do such horrid things to mutant girls? How dare he breathe in the air that came from my superior's trees? He wasn't worthy of such a thing.
I just. Kept. Going. And he kept screaming. This was possible because I'd learned to skillfully wield my lightning. Normally, finding the perfect balance between maximum pain and avoiding immediate death was hard, but I was extremely motivated.
Satisfying this rage brought forth a smile. I was giving this guy his just deserts. He deserved every volt that coursed through his veins.
No information was obtained. Eventually, I had to stop and take a breather.
"You enjoyed yourself," the elderly man said as he observed the charred corpse before me. "You can't do that every time. But given his crimes… I understand."
I took a moment to catch my breath. "Thank you, sir. It's nice that you do," I whispered as if I hadn't brutally tortured someone.
This mishap wasn't an issue. There was no shortage of horrible people who harmed mutants that I could use for interrogation practice.
It took many failed attempts, but I learned to control myself enough not to immediately kill a prisoner. So, interrogation training could begin.
Most would have been concerned by my eagerness to kill others. My teacher paid it no mind. When I was angry with myself for killing another prisoner without interrogating them, he told me about how hard it had been for him to do the same.
He was a concentration camp survivor and after that, hunted Nazis. He had found it almost impossible for him to not kill his targets on the spot. Well, after slowly exacting vengeance on behalf of the fallen. He just couldn't help himself, once the roles of powerful and powerless were reversed.
Solo
My first solo mission technically was one of the many small errands I'd ran. Still, I don't count them since they were so irrelevant. My first true solo mission happened after we arrived in the city of Portland.
Strangely, my mentor had not given me a briefing about what we were to do beforehand. He simply told me to pack some clothes, and we left. When I asked him what we'd do, he said, "We will do nothing." He had to have emphasized that word for a reason, but why?
After we set up at our hotel, he sat down and began leisurely reading the book 'The Once and Future King.' This wasn't like him.
I said, "I doubt we're here on vacation."
"You're right. We aren't."
I inwardly growled. Just what did he mean?
Wait…
"So I'll be doing this alone?"
He nodded, then turned a page "On 626 Hawkins Street lives your target. Kill him and return here."
"Yes, sir."
My teacher searched my face for something, but seemed pleased that wherever he was looking for, it wasn't there.
I was given no further instructions. When asked, he'd annoyingly ask me things like, "What do you think would be the appropriate method to kill him?"
Ah, so this was a sort of final exam. I'd been killing our enemies under his supervision for so long that he wanted to test my abilities on my own.
The idea scared and excited me. On one hand, I didn't want to disappoint him. After all, my mentor was easily the most important man in my life. It wasn't even a contest. On the other hand, this was my chance to show him my progress.
I didn't even need to do anything special, just kill a target.
I proceeded as normal. I brought my cell phone, a backpack full of useful things like rope, some chains, bullets, and without thinking, I placed my tracker on me too.
I then took a cab to the location.
That's when I noticed my first issue.
626 Hawkins Street was an apartment complex! How the hell would I know which apartment? Of course, he'd do this.
I quietly fumed for a moment, then sighed.
Ok, so he wouldn't just leave me in the dark like this. Wait, this week he has been telling me about various hate groups.
I opened my laptop and found the documents I had on several Portland-based ones, as well as the names of their members.
From these names, I looked up the addresses. And there was only one that matched. Samuel Hendricks lived in apartment D31.
I got a move on. The next issue was getting past a gate that required a keycard. Yes, breaking it was an option, but many electric gates have alarms that go off. Surely Magneto didn't want me getting caught that easily.
It took some waiting around, but soon a person walked outside. I subtly maneuvered their wallet (it was one of the newfangled metal ones) out of their pocket and voila! A keycard! For added security, I destroyed all cameras as I moved.
Worryingly, the elderly elevator rumbled and moaned as it ascended. A vibration from my left pocket provided a welcome distraction. I swiped on my phone's green icon.
"Great work Electron. I knew you'd be able to find your way inside."
I smiled, "Thanks."
"A car is waiting for you outside when you're done," Magneto said.
"Thank you." The call cut away.
A ding told me I'd gotten to the right floor.
The variety of decorations and furniture on the doors and in the hallway told me what I expected. There were other people on this floor. That meant witnesses if I screwed up.
I could break in, but what if he yelled? That would ruin everything.
No, there had to be a better way.
I again turned on my laptop. While searching, I found that the monster had a girlfriend. Using a fake phone number, I texted his number.
'Hey babe, bought you some food from MealDash. Phone died so I'm using someone else's. Enjoy!'
Hopefully, I copied how she wrote from social media well enough.
The door swung open. A heavy chain squeezing his neck prevented my target from saying a word.
I smiled. "Let's go somewhere more private. Your place?"
Terrified, he shook his head and tried to yell, but nothing came out
I smiled, "Thanks, you're too kind."
I sat him down in a chair in his living room. Then, I sent several bullets into his temple. Easy. Just as Magneto would like it. Quick, no fuss, and no witnesses. Even better, with my powers, I could avoid the loud boom that came from a gun.
I returned to the hotel.
He was still reading his book, not even looking at me, additionally, his chair was even facing away, "Did anyone see you?"
"No sir."
"Did he scream?"
"Nope," I smirked, "hard to do that with a chain around your throat."
"Hmm. Really?" He turned around and placed the book down. " Tell me everything," I did.
I told him my reasoning for why I thought I was to kill him. I told him how I got in, how I was able to choke him without him making a sound, and how I killed him. He didn't comment until the end.
"Texting him that someone was at the door with lunch." he chuckled. "Very clever use of deception. Additionally, a bullet to the head can easily be explained away as a suicide. The destruction of cameras ensures there is no evidence of you coming or going and the fact that you used a card means no signs of forced entry.
He gave a rare smile. "I'm pleased. You've exceeded all expectations."
I smiled too, and a warm feeling washed over me. "Thank you, sir."
We spent the weekend leisurely spending time in the city. According to him, I'd earned it.
Feelings
When I came to Magneto's island, I did my damnedest to create an impenetrable wall between everyone and my true feelings and thoughts. Magneto's perceptiveness ensured that this plan failed miserably. Despite this, I still found myself returning to these same patterns. My teacher didn't approve.
It wasn't as if he hated breathing exercises, instead he saw anger and other feelings as natural things that shouldn't be shoved away and hidden. He especially didn't think it was appropriate that I, a teenager, was bottling up my feelings so much to make life more convenient for adults.
He encouraged me to be more open. He'd validate my anger or sadness or pride. I was incapable of frightening him, so if I ever became enraged, I could just - vent instead of hiding it. He'd just be there, waiting for me to finish.
The idea was so foreign. He didn't need me to do anything for him. He was a self-sufficient adult. He even wanted to help me with MY feelings.
Most would've been very concerned to see their quiet, shy, rational, calm, introverted student lash out so strongly. He wasn't. To him, these actions were symptoms of how I was forced to be more mature than I really was.
So his job was to reverse this. To him, I needed to learn that the world wouldn't end if I got mad and that I had the right to express my feelings. He wanted me to learn that I could be an overly mature teen and be looked after, or a normal acting teen and looked after. He didn't tolerate me locking these feelings inside, where they could harm me. I had to acknowledge them and talk.
As far as he was concerned, given the scum that I had to encounter regularly, the training I had to do to protect myself from said scum, and my home life, lashing out was justified.
It was such a relief. Finally, at least when I was around my teacher, I didn't need to keep up any sort of facade. It was amazing to tell him about the many injustices that had happened to me and hear him say that I was in the right. He never said that I was overreacting, or that I was being ungrateful.
This openness slowly led to me expressing myself more around others. The downside was that my role model for how to express several previously hidden feelings was Magneto.
He encouraged what many would call 'dark' emotions. To him, a bit of humbleness, self-restraint, and selflessness was fine. However, I had gone too far in that direction. So he made me more prideful by praising me for my achievements and pointing out again and again that I was not an ordinary teenager, no I was special. Better. He also forced me to interact with others even if just to shake their hands.
Once, when I was too nervous to speak to a mall salesperson, he said "Electron, are you afraid of flies?"
"No." I picked up a nice-looking tie and examined it in my hands.
"Why?"
Oh great, one of those 'teachable moment' questions.
"Because they can't hurt me."
"Why?" He insisted
Really? Now? What if someone hears?
"Because I can kill it with ease."
"Precisely." He said he followed this up with "And you can do the same to any of the homo sapiens. So why should you be frightened of speaking with them?"
I couldn't muster up a response.
Gifts
Most holidays with Magneto came and went quietly without acknowledgment. There were exceptions, though. On Mother's day, I spent the entire day with my mom, and thankfully she was well. Then, it sort of crept up on me. That holiday. The one that happened in June that's like Mother's day except it wasn't for women.
Frankly, I didn't enjoy thinking about that day. It reminded me of uncomfortable questions and cruel taunts from both kids and adults.
Still, an idea took form. I wasn't the only kid in my area that lacked a male parent so it was a normal that Father's day morphed into 'Important Man in Your Life Day.' Despite this loosening of requirements, when I was given an assignment to write letters to someone important, I came up short.
That didn't apply anymore. I did have someone. It was a strange idea, but I went with it. The night before, I stayed up to work on my project.
During the afternoon, I entered his office while carefully carrying my bounty. Sure, nothing would break, but dropping any of them would've been loud. At least my powers helped.
"Sir, I've noticed that you drink tea a lot soo… I made these" 'These' were several metal teacups, a kettle, and associated saucers.
They floated peacefully in the air before softly landing on a nearby table.
The man relaxed. I suppose he had sensed all the metal from outside and it startled him.
Then he noticed my handiwork. "These are amazing." Two cups rose into the air and then were turned to the side for inspection. "They have matching designs as well."
"Really, I thought a cursive 'M' was a bit bland."
"Not at all. It's incredible the amount of progress you've achieved… When did you have the time?'
"That? I did a lot during the day, but a lot more was done at night."
"Hmm. That explains your tiredness during training. And to think I criticized you earlier."
I waved it off, "It's fine, you didn't know."
"Even so, I still apologize. Your set, it'll be the only one I use from now on. Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir." I restrained a yawn which reminded me to take a nap while I could. Soon I'd need to train with Mystique.
Before I could leave, he said "Electron."
"Sir?"
"I thank you for the gift, but the date it's been given on… Am I meant to imply anything from it?"
It took me a moment to understand what he was saying.
"Well no. At home, you give people who aren't your dad gifts on Father's day all the time. They just have to be an important man in your life." I then said "I'm glad you like it. It's the first time I've had anyone to do this stuff for."
He nodded. "I see." He seemed both relieved and also… burdened? Maybe I wasn't as good at reading him as I thought I was. I had to be looking at things the wrong way
"You're nothing like my father, anyway. You're around too much."
The other holiday that sticks out as a memory for me is National Teacher's Day. This was a holiday I had experience with. I had favorite teachers from home. I decided on an old-fashioned letter:
Sir,
I'm writing this letter to tell you how grateful I am to you for you teaching me. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now. You're the only person who can prevent me from dying because of my powers. Moreover, before, I couldn't tolerate killing anyone. If my powers didn't kill me, a hateful bigot would've, I'm sure of it. My earlier pacifism would have led me to a one-way ticket to the grave. So I'm grateful you taught me to be willing to fight and even kill someone to prevent that. I know you didn't enjoy forcing me to learn.
I'm unsure how you'll feel about me writing this. But, I've written letters for teachers that were far less significant, so it's fitting that you get one.
I want to repay you for all that you've done for me. That's probably why I work so hard at being an excellent student. I'm lucky to even be alive, given what often happens to other mutants. But things turned out even better than that. I'm alive, and not being experimented on. My mom is getting the help she needs, and I'm learning new things every day. That's all because of you. So, thank you. Thank you for your kindness and patience despite my obstinacy. I will strive to be the best student I can be. Despite what others say, you're my hero.
Electron
I couldn't find it in me to hand the letter to him, so I slipped it under his door and used a metal pin to guide it in his direction. Then, before he could say a word, I ran off.
He never discussed the letter, but it's clear to me he'd read it. For a week, he was less stern when correcting me. In fact, he was less stern with everyone. It freaked us all out. Magneto teased us about it but never said why he was in such a good mood, not that he needed to. In response to my letter, he would also far more often than normal affectionately ruffle my hair. Every now and then, I saw that he wanted to bring something up, but didn't. Instead, he gave me a handheld gaming console.
Moving
While I was lounging on a couch in Magneto's office, playing on my device (sadly only single-player offline), my teacher cleared his throat. I set the gadget down and gave him my attention.
"Pack your things. We'll be moving to New York by the end of the month-"
"M-M-moving? Oh, sorry sir, I apologize."
He nodded, "It's fine. Our work now is best done stateside."
"Understood. Wait, so when you say New York, you mean New York City?"
"Yes, is there something wrong?"
"N-No, not at all."
A familiar frown greeted me.
I caved, "New York has a lot of metal. A lot of buildings, pipes. What if I do something wrong?"
"You won't. For months you've traversed many cities without incident. Additionally, you've worked incredibly hard and gained considerable control over your powers. You're ready."
I grinned, "Thank you, sir." A warm feeling enveloped me.
"You needn't thank me. Seeing you improve is a reward in itself. Additionally, the building we will be staying in has been renovated to be resistant to any outbursts. You needn't worry."
"You think of everything, sir."
"That's my job as your guardian."
"I guess… but just because adults are supposed to doesn't mean they do. It's- it's nice that you do."
I returned to find my in-game character very dead. I'd have to do that level all over again! Before I redid that level, Magneto and I had some tea. He had been doing that even more often than usual.
Living in New York City gave me a headache for 2 straight weeks. That's because my powers had become stronger. Eventually, I learned to tune it all out.
Adjustments
My new life was a lot to get used to. I could ask for things- and get them. It was an extremely strange concept. Scarcity was an iron law of the universe, and yet now I lived among plenty.
I didn't figure out this new reality on my own. I was far too hesitant. Asking for things in the past was bad, since often Mom had to say no and she'd feel lousy after.
Magneto would ask me while we were out if I wanted a thing in a shop that I was staring a bit too long at. I'd shyly answer 'yes', and he'd get it. But also he'd give me a lecture about how I shouldn't be afraid to say what I want. Unfortunately, I still couldn't change my ways. I had trouble asking for anything. So he had to take the lead.
If I'd done exceptional work during a mission or training, he'd ask if I wanted anything. I'd quietly mention a new gadget or game that I'd seen online. And then he would just -give me a card so I could buy it.
He could give me the money to buy video games on a whim. The idea was mind-blowing. I was very familiar with how many kilowatt hours of electricity or how many eggs a game could pay for. Maybe we could scrape by and get one, but only after we did several calculations to ensure we had money to buy food with.
This strange lax attitude was seen with other things, too. He handed me a card and tell me to get whatever I wanted for my new room. This was done after a cheap mattress had messed with my sleep and thus training. Again, there was no pre-planning.
Getting what I wanted was easier this time since I was given a command. Still, seeing the number of zeros on items made me dizzy. He didn't even mention any of my purchases. Surely, I didn't need all that I'd gotten. I was waiting for some sort of response to these extravagant purchases, but there was nothing.
The same occurred with clothing. I could just buy things. On impulse. It was so weird. He had bought me a very expensive trench coat despite my other one being functional (though it had many holes). I often found myself trying on my new clothing, staring at a mirror, and not believing that the person I saw within was me. This feeling was strongest when I wore the formal clothing he'd gotten me for when we went to a symphony.
Was I even Chris Alster from home anymore? No, I was Electron, Magneto's student.
This discomfort wasn't limited to clothing. To me, my room looked like it belonged to someone else. Sure, a someone else who was roughly my age and had the same interests in video games, anime, books, and science, but someone else nonetheless. My surroundings just didn't fit my self-image. I was a lowly nobody, what was I doing here? It felt like my presence would pollute the immaculate room.
I told my teacher about this. And he repeatedly told me that there was nothing wrong with me having nice things and that I was worthy.
Toad was jealous, but since I let him have access to my computers and gaming systems, all was forgiven. I also helped him move furniture into his room after he'd redecorated.
Another odd thing was adjusting to freely coming and going to and from places. After I had sworn loyalty to him, I was given the keys to the new building we lived in.
It wasn't as if I hadn't been alone before, but it was strange to leave home and go somewhere else on a whim, with no notice to anyone. All that I had to do was return at a decent hour and keep up with my training and studies.
On my first journey, I hurriedly ran to a park. I then sat down, placed my food at my side, and exhaled. No one was calling my name, and I wasn't getting any calls demanding that I return home on my phones (since now I had two). Everything was calm. It was only me and a very close squirrel.
This was nice. A perfect summer day. It was a good thing that I'd brought a granola bar.
A flurry of pops and crackles came from my left.
I had a granola bar.
During the afternoon, I ventured around my neighborhood, learning more and more. I learned all the streets surrounding our home as well as which restaurants served actual food and which served overpriced gruel. My range of movement expanded with the usage of trains and buses.
Quick Announcements
The first chapter of my story's deleted scenes is up. So if you like my story and don't mind filler content that doesn't contribute to plot but is interesting to read, this is for you!
Currently it features :
Electron opening a can of whoop ass. You don't take a nerd's book.
Chris getting into MIT and his reaction.
A note on the fact that the narrator isn't what you think he is.
And of course Magneto being his conceited self.
Have fun!
The poll is still open
Is Chris's mom a bad mother?
I think she is. Think about it. She's not always out of touch with reality and even when she's doing fine she still hops from cult to cult. Apparently, it's just a coincidence her kid gets abused by each one. There is absolutely no reason to change her behavior at all right?
Plus, she doesn't even support her own kids dreams and says he's not that smart. That's emotional abuse.
So forget the hitting when she's insane she straight up doesn't deserve to have a kid that will bend over backwards for her.
All that emotional abuse meant that Magneto is actually the most supportive adult he had in his life. Damn that's sad. Kids need love. It's just as real a need as the need for food or water and vulnerable lonely children will attach themselves to anyone who is willing to give them attention.
Also, the tactic of taking advantage of a child's lack of loving adults in their life is used by many real life pedophilies, child abductors and pimps. Just food for thought.