He awoke sweating, heart beating multiple miles a minute.
Panting, he reached up and touched his eye. The sudden lack of pain and blood was what told him he was dreaming.
He sighed in relief and scooted to the back board of his bed, tucking his knees up and under his chin.
Day rose up and over the ground, lifting high into the sky, but he never noticed it. He was too busy on trying to forget everything all at once.
John yawned and stretched one arm high over his head, the other holding a scorching hot cup of coffee.
"Damn blasted training sessions," He muttered, rubbing a sore spot in his neck.
"They've got me bloody fucked up all the time." Piotr frowned at him and cleared his throat loudly.
"Language." He warned the Australian.
John grumbled and pattered over to the kitchen island. Setting his coffee down on the counter, he placed both his hands on the cold marble countertop, and boosted himself into a seat.
He sat there for several minutes silently, nursing his mug.
"Hey Petey?" Piotr looked up at from the pancakes he was currently flipping on the stove for breakfast.
"Have you seen Remy?" The tall Russian shook his head.
"I thought that perhaps he was sleeping in?" John shrugged.
"Eh, I'll go find the ole bugger, he's been sleeping well enough." John set his mug down and hopped off his stool. "Hopefully he won't try to badger me again like last time.."
Nathaniel gazed at the screen. The boy reflected in the image of it was seventeen, with auburn hair, deep copper skin, and unusual, red and black eyes.
The boy had lived in New Orleans for eleven years, with his adopted father Jean-Luc LeBeau, and brother Henri, along with a multitude of other family members Nathaniel hadn't bothered to memorize. He was sixteen when he moved to Bayville, San Francisco, where he joined a man named magneto. No. Magnus.
The name filled Nathaniel with a hot, fiery venom, one that made his hands shake with each breath he took.
He breathed in deeply, and exhaled, before continuing the run of information.
He had two people close to him in his time with magneto, two boys his age.
St. John Allerdyce, seventeen, Australian, ginger hair, with green vibrant eyes.
Piotr Nikolai Rasputin, seventeen, Russian, dark haired with piercing blue eyes.
Nathaniel scowled as he ran through the last pieces of information within his head.
There was a girl, sixteen, green eyed, with brunette hair, all but for two streaks down the side of her bangs. A mouthy southern girl that the boy just happened to be completely and utterly in love with.
If Nathaniel had been with him, he would have told him that love was stupid, irrefutable, something that only breaks you in the end.
He gritted his teeth, and processed the last bit of information.
Sergei Nikolaevich Kravinoff. The bane of Nathaniel's existence. Russian, dark haired, and complete with dark, soulless eyes.
He was the one the boy considered a (father) in his cruel life. Nathaniel hated this.
He didn't want the boy around a monster like him. If he had a choice, he would've snatched him up long ago and away from Kravinoff.
His nails dug deep into the metal computer.
Gears hissed and whizzed in fear.
Nathaniel relaxed his grip: sighed.
It would all be fixed soon, this he could promise to himself.