Bobknap Ch. 3: Winds of Change

[Magneto]

Magneto wasn't a mutant who enjoyed inflicting pain upon others, but he was a very determined and hard headed man. He had done so many horrid things in his life, things which still haunted him every time he laid his head down and closed his eyes, but things he 'had' to do in order to achieve the desired goals and dreams. Sacrifices had to be made....made by all of those who stood with him and this included his young protege...Pyro. Of course, Magneto knew how this decision to side with the 'right' team would tear the boy apart, but he also hoped it would build character within the boy, something he was severely lacking in...among other things.

Bobby Drake, one of Charles' little pupils and junior X-man, had developed some sort of odd relationship with Pyro, one that Magneto wanted nothing to do with nor wanted to know anything about.....well....nothing too intimate or private anyway. The fact that Pyro was consorting with the enemy was one thing, but two simple things held Magneto's hand in his discipline of the boy. Magneto himself had been a long time friend of Xavier so how could he punish Pyro for finding in another the similar things he found in Charles? The other thing (the one being more devious), was the manipulation factor involved in such a relationship and how Magneto could use this to his advantage.

Pyro had done well, he had followed through in his plan (even standing up to one of the wanna be X-men) and delivered Bobby Drake directly into the waiting hands of the Brotherhood. The tranquilizer which subdued young mister Drake also contained another little surprise, one Magneto failed to mention to Pyro, and that was a small sample of the so called 'cure' which Mystique had come across while infiltrating the local military bases in the area. The serum wasn't much and to be honest was a bit old, but Erik was sure it was still potent enough to keep mister Drake powerless until things were done and said.

A light flickered and then hummed to life, illuminating the rather cold and drab looking tiled room. Various metallic instruments were scattered about and what appeared to be dried blood was spattered in one corner of the room, an old mop and bucket still leaned against the wall where the would be janitor had attempted to clean the mess up. Usually one of Magneto's henchmen of lesser morals and civilized standards handled the interrogations, but this one.....this one would be a bit different, Magneto himself would lead the questioning. The chains which were attached to Bobby's wrists really left no room for much maneuvering (even if the boy had been awake and capable) and also gave Magneto that extra bit of edge. The old man wasn't above using any means to secure victory for himself, thus the habit of surrounding himself with as much metal as possible.

A small metal door swung open, slowly, and Magneto walked into the room, a rather smug and confident look upon his face. His cape was draped over his right arm as usual and he wore his helmet, a precaution in case someone back at the institute had actually found a way to use Cerebro and were looking for Bobby and accidentally found Erik instead. As he looked down at his present captive, Magneto casually waved his left hand to the side, sending each chain shackled to Bobby's wrist in the opposite direction, lifting the young boy up off the floor and holding him rather painfully. "Time to wake up mister Drake," he said in that cold emotionless tone that he had perfected oh so well.

[Pyro]

”Fuck off. They’re my ribs. I’d know if they were going to kill me”

Pyro’s voice announces his return long before he reaches the basement level, somehow sounding both enlivened by rage and totally drained by experience. He feels like shit, no doubt about it, having taken one hell of a beating courtesy of Josh and his abortive rescue mission, but damned if that’s going to stop him.

”No. Fuck off. I’m fine. Yes, it’s fucking blood, okay. Most of it is mine. Now fuck off”

How, exactly, he’s made it back to the Boarding House at all is something of a mystery even to him. By rights he should have curled up and died somewhere dark and quiet... or, honestly, if there was any justice in it, then he should have burned to death in the wreckage of Baker Mansion. But something got him back, and that same something won’t let him surrender to being repaired. Things need attending to. Things which are much more important than trivialities like the spectacular bruising blossoming across his chest and back, the way his brain has re-arranged itself around the inside of his skull, or the fact that he seems to have left half a lung back at the battle ground....

”I don’t care what he’s said. This is me. I’m allowed in.”

He’s at the door now, the door separating him from the things, or rather thing in question. Because despite the endless litanies of rationalization and denial something in Josh’s words has hit home better than his attacks did, and totally stopped the Firestarter dead, and now he has to know. Has to prove to himself that he’s right, that Magneto’s word holds good and Bobby is fine. It’s getting so much harder to believe that, given where he is, despite his telling himself that sure, it has to be here, because it’s secure. And so despite the roar of protest greeting even the slightest suggestion that he do anything other than lie down and bleed quietly, and against all the odds suggesting that given how much he’s limping and wincing and generally giving off a dead on my feet kind of vibe he should really have collapsed long before making it to the basement, he’s made it, and he has to see.

[Magneto]

Pyro's voice could be heard long before the boy ever reached the door which led to the interrogation room, thus the irritated look on Magneto's face. He knew the boy would make a fuss and he had even expected his young protege to refuse to bring his friend to him, hence why Mystique had been sent in secret to follow. Of course, Pyro had kept to his end of the deal and Mystique's involvement was not needed but she reported to Magneto anyway, letting him now full well of every event which transpired. The telekinetic, the one referred to as Josh, was a minor inconvenience and one that would eventually have to be dealt with for his powers were already showing to be a problem for the Brotherhood.

Bobby, who had refused to wake up or perhaps who was just still out cold, remained in the air, his chains pulled tighter apart as Pyro's foot falls died just on the other side of the metal door. Magneto debated whether to allow the boy inside and if he so wished, he could have just forced the door to remained closed, but some part of him didn't. The door did not open, no Pyro would have to do that much himself and if he didn't even better. This latest hesitation and self questioning wasn't exactly the sort of thing Magneto desired and was hastily becoming a major concern. Pyro had seen too much and been taught too many of Magneto's ways and boy or not, he wouldn't be that way forever. One day the boy would grow up and everything that the old man had taught him would be used to his advantage, a thought which sometimes worried Magneto.

[Pyro]

He’s not surprised to find that the door doesn’t exactly swing open in welcome, though a cold thing happens in the pit of his stomach as various scenarios regarding what exactly is going on behind it flicker across his battered but unusually fertile mental landscape… Fuck. Worst case scenario? Pretty much, yeah. Of all the people who could be conducting this interrogation, Magneto isn’t the one he’d have wanted handling it (though really, to expect anything less was a mixture of hopelessly optimistic and just plain insane) and the fact that he’s here, and insisting on working alone… shudder. Not good signs.

That cold thing’s telling him to flee. Everything else agrees that not going any further is the best idea…

… fuck the best idea. This is a love thing, after all, which means rational is never the right course, because what’s love if not localized batshit-crazy insanity? And he has to know, because as horrible as knowing will probably turn out to be, not knowing is so much worse. At the very least, if it turns out that his worst fears are true (which they’re not. They’re really not. They can’t be) then he can stop fighting this whole burn out thing, because there won’t be any reason to keep going…

He can’t just storm in, though, however appropriate and epic a gesture it may be, because it would also be sort of suicidal. Certain protocols still have to be observed if he’s going to pull this off, because any aces Bobby still has in his hand depend upon his being able to keep up the *loyal Brother* thing.

”Boss?” – best to stay on the safe side… no, screw it, Boss feels too uncertain. The second take is more forceful – as forceful as one can be when the door is pretty much the only thing holding you up – the silence between words almost hissed through teeth clenched against how much this speaking and breathing business hurt, his tone saying that this isn’t one of the things Magneto can easily dissuade him from with a quick burst of ideological hokum and a careful gesture. ”Magneto. I’m back. I want to see Bobby.”

[Magneto]

Boss? Now there was a word which made Magneto smile....sort of. It seemed that little link between Pyro and Elliot had some side effects and it appeared that Elliot was on the winning side of things, for no matter how much Pyro seemed to be the one in control, Elliot was the one who had gleamed his brain for information about Bobby and now some of her mannerisms seemed to take root as well. Curious....How much of Elliot did Pyro possess in himself and would her reluctance to be around the boy now tear down that link they shared or perhaps screw Pyro's mind up even more than it was already?

Those questions could be answered later, because right now, there was a far more important crisis to handle. Pyro was caught in a the middle of an epic decision and one that would decide his future for sure. Would he side with the Brotherhood (as he should) or would he take the weak path and cling to some far fetched dream of childhood adolescent foolishness and hope for a world where he could be free to do as he wished and whomever he desired? This question was the problem and it burned on Magneto's mind right now. The logical thing would be to deny Pyro access to Bobby and try to force them apart, maybe even resorting to removing young mister Drake from the scene....permanantly. Of course, that choice could drive Pyro farther away from Magneto and set the boy on some suicidal and vengeful mission to destroy the ones who destroyed him.

Turning around at the same time the door slowly creaks open, Magneto faces his protege, an act which is becoming all too familiar as of late. "This is not the time nor place my boy. Young mister Drake and I have much to discuss and you need your rest. We leave for Neverland at sunrise and I want you in the best shape possible," he said, standing in between Pyro and Bobby, making a rather bold and silent statement. If Johnny boy wanted Bobby, then he would have to go through Magneto and to be honest, the old man didn't think his protege was up to that challenge.

[Pyro]

He stumbles slightly as the door shifts, one hand going back to brace himself against the doorframe, the other wrapping protectively around what is left of his ribs. A quick glance up takes in Magneto, but other than to note that by some miracle he isn’t sporting a crimson spatter it’s not him John’s interested in, is it? His dark eyes dart around, trying to see past Magneto and into the room itself, and catching very little. Which raises a frantic, desperate sort of nervousness which, thankfully, his current state is vocal enough to keep him from capitalizing on beyond a shaky feeling and a tightening of his voice.

He should stand down, should back away, should know better than to try and face up to Magneto. As the man said, this is not the time nor the place to risk provoking his temper, not with him so much more unable to take it than usual or, more importantly, while Magneto has control of something so important to him. But he’s made it this far. This whole thing is fucking epic, albeit a very twisted and dark sort of epic. Come hell or high water he is going to see Bobby, and no Metal Manipulating Supervillain can hope to stand in the way of that.

”If you don’t let me in I won’t be in any shape to go anywhere.”

It’s a risk, sure, and depends very much on fundamental beliefs which keep being called into question – that he’s important to the Cause and to Magneto, and that the Cause means more than this petty disciplinary stunt. And it’s hardly low stakes he’s gambling with. Somehow the usual smarts come easy, as if some weird autopilot is kicking in, joining forces with desperation and frenzy to allow him to outface Magneto for once, unflinching except for the winces drawing breath is soliciting.

”I’m not leaving. Try taking Neverland without your resident arsonist, with only the newbies... I’ll stay here and bleed out and you’ll be fucked. I want to see Bobby.”

[Magneto]

Pyro's little stand against his mentor wasn't going as well as the boy had probably hoped. Magneto wasn't one to take orders from anybody, especially from some inexperienced punk with authority issues. Pyro had grown far to comfortable with is position as Magneto's left hand and in some odd way, he seemed to think that the old man couldn't function without him anymore. Magneto kept Pyro around because he had potential, not because he was some priceless asset that the Brotherhood couldn't do without.

"Perhaps you've missed the boat on this one my boy," Magneto said as the chains holding Bobby pulled back a bit more, putting even more strain on the unconscious boy's arms, "I'm in charge here and from where I'm standing it seems I'm holding all the pieces as well. You'll go where I tell you to go and do exactly what I tell you to do or your little friend here will suffer the consequences for your actions. I've put up with your insubordination for long enough so I suggest you start falling back in line and know your place," the old man said with a new air of authority about him. He would not give ground here, not on this matter and especially not while Pyro had this attitude.

Magneto stared Pyro down now, waiting on his little protege's next move, expecting some ill fated attempt which more than likely would involve setting something or someone on fire. Of course, the longer the two stood here, the more apparent Pyro's injuries became to Magneto and like it or not, the old man did feel some sympathy for the boy. "This is the last time I will be so forgiving," Erik said as he turned sideways, giving Pyro a brief glimpse of Bobby's limp body hanging in the air, "You'll see to your wounds and then get some rest and then you'll fall back in line like a good boy and not question my orders again.....Understood?," he asked Pyro now, turning his cold blue eyes upon the boy one last time.

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby can’t remember where he is, at first, or how he got here. He’d been meeting John at Baker Mansion, he remembers; after that it’s all rather fuzzy and disconnected in his mind.

Still, he knows he’s in enemy hands, and he doesn’t made a move or a sound when he regains consciousness – Logan had always emphasized the importance of that, and while that particular phase of Bobby’s combat training hadn’t been any fun at all, he appreciates the habit now. Even with Magneto practically ripping him in half with those damned chains, he manages to fake unconsciousness, figuring that’s the best way to postpone whatever the megalomaniac has in mind until Bobby gets his wits back.

It becomes more difficult when he hears John’s voice, his footsteps approaching, and he can practically feel his shoulders dislocating as Magneto pulls him even tighter. But he manages.

> " Magneto. I’m back. I want to see Bobby. "

He… what? Hearing John’s voice brings back the bite of the needle and John’s frantic justifications before betraying him, and that’s suddenly too much for him to handle. Logan’s training never included Bobby concealing his reaction to the guy who claimed to love him then turned him over to his worst enemy, and Bobby’s own experience hasn’t equipped him for it either. He can’t help but open his eyes then, relieved to see nothing but Magneto’s back as he talks to someone, presumably John. Well, that and the blood-spatter around the room, which he tries, mostly unsuccessfully, to ignore.

> " Young mister Drake and I have much to discuss and you need your rest. We leave for Neverland at sunrise and I want you in the best shape possible, "

They what? Bobby manages to avoid yelling that out, but he wants to. They’re going to attack Neverland? The timing couldn’t be worse… Dr. McCoy had given testimony to the Congressional Investigative Committee earlier today on everything that was going on there and the other camps… Dammit, you genocidal maniac, we’re about to shut the damned place down! Legally! Of course, Magneto probably doesn’t know that, but Bobby realizes it won’t matter to him… the camps are an opportunity for him, something to rally his troops around. The government shutting them down would hurt his cause, Bobby realizes suddenly, …it’d mean maybe humans and mutants can work out their differences without war. But if the Brotherhood trashes the place, all that falls apart… shutting down the camps after that looks like admitting defeat, no way the President goes along with that. Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! He’s going to ruin the whole thing!

Bobby can feel his breathing getting out of control, and regains it with an effort. Not going to panic. Professor taught us better than that. Mind clear, breathing steady, stay in control, Drake… this is the real deal here. It sounds good in his head, even if it is just whistling past the graveyard. He’s terrified, and he knows it, but damned if he’s going to give in to it.

He has a moment to regain control while listening to the power struggle between John and Magneto. (John and Eric? Pyro and Magneto? Bobby isn’t sure… “Iceman” is just a codename for him, a way to help conceal his identity… for John, “Pyro” is something weirder he doesn’t quite understand… and he has no idea what’s true for Magneto. The Professor used to call him ‘Eric’… but of course the Professor is dead. And I’m not. So, all right… it’s ‘Eric’ then. The Professor never used a codename, damned if I’m gonna use yours anymore. It doesn’t make much sense, granted, but it feels right, and at this moment anything he can control is good.

> " You'll see to your wounds and then get some rest and then you'll fall back in line like a good boy and not question my orders again.....Understood? "

When Eric yanks his chains apart still further and steps aside Bobby sees John through half-lidded eyes, broken and bleeding and barely on his feet, and just barely suppresses a gasp. He doesn’t remember them fighting, but that happens, sometimes, with injuries… retrograde amnesia, he remembers the Professor talking about it once. Had he done that, somehow, after the injection? God, I hope so,[/u] he thinks, and is then surprised by the venom in his own thoughts.

For a moment, Bobby is confused: anger and protectiveness war in his head, the desire to take care of John struggling with the desire to hurt him further. Just for a moment, though. Then fear teams up with anger to stuff protectiveness into a locker, and he glares at the other boy, discarding all thought of pretending unconsciousness in his desire for vengeance. "Yeah… get the fuck out of here, boy. Me and your foster-dad have business. I'll settle with you later."

[Pyro]

< I’m holding all the pieces
Shit...

... fucking idiot. You’re making things a million times worse. That seemed to be becoming the general theme of this whole nightmarish tragedy, but such was the nature of reality, wasn’t it? Whether intentions were best or something less didn’t matter, every step was still screwing things up. Because he’d never really had any control, had he? Agreeing to Magneto’s plan in the first place had meant relinquishing all that, and any delusions he’d had since then that he could somehow hope to make this end well were at best hopelessly optimistic.

Retrospect is a bitch, huh? So is finding that the usual strategy – refusing to regret because it seemed like the best idea at the time – doesn’t help at all. And while on the surface at least Magneto seems an obvious focus for any blame, because this is his idea, and he didn’t leave him any choice, the truth is far smaller, and nastier.

It’s all his fault. Whatever they had, he’s killed it. The way things are going at the moment he’s going to kill Bobby (some small voice pipes up that his life is also on the line, but he pays it little attention). Nothing else to it.

What little he had left seems to be sapped by that realization, and all the comfortable little lies – that he had no choice, that somehow Bob understands – can’t make this work. Not now. Later they’ll give him just enough to keep going, even if he can’t quite believe them any more. But now they’re still just lies, and he hasn’t got enough left to fight them or Magneto, let alone both.

Magneto’s words are annoyingly patronizing, but allowing that to raise anything would be monumentally stupid and besides, it’s a trivial annoyance when so much more is on the… Shit. Magneto shifts, and John catches a glimpse of Bobby, and takes a hell of a lot not to cry out, or rush forward, or so anything suitably melodramatic and impassioned, and at the same time paralysis is the only logical real response. It’s his eyes he homes in on, mentally begging Bobby to give him some sort of sign that he hasn’t been broken…

< Yeah… get the fuck out of here, boy. Me and your foster-dad have business. I'll settle with you later
After initially leaping at hearing him speak, John’s heart… isn’t there any more. It doesn’t do anything as dramatic as explode, or shatter. There’s just… a blank, empty numbness seeping icy and sharp through his veins, and a raw ragged feeling as if some essential part deep within, somewhere even deeper in his core, has been torn out. Because regardless of whether or not this shell is still alive, whatever Bobby was before is dead, and he knows he’s killed it. Those aren’t Bobby words – if anything they’re his, or at least the him who embarked on this fucked up journey way back at Mimi’s – and it’s not Bobby glaring at him. Not his Bobby.

Not that any of that should be a surprise. It’s been inevitable since Magneto talked him into it, and he sees that now and it hurts so much more than any of the *real* injuries he’s going to blame the shaking and wide eyed childlike expression of bewildered hurt on. Of course Bobby’s not going to understand, or forgive him, because what he’s done puts him beyond any hope of redemption, and it doesn’t matter how he justifies it. The road to hell is, after all, pathed with good intentions… and he should have known, should never have been so fucking blind as to think of that first pact as anything other than a trident, horn and cloven hoof fitting.

”Fine.” he manages to croak, after what feels like an eternity (and that tightness has nothing to do with tears, understand; it’s only physical pain which is making breathing a… no, he hasn’t got the energy for that either. It’s the raw ache of total heartbreak, no use pretending any more), careful to ensure that it’s Bobby he’s looking at, Bobby’s demands he’s conceding to. Magneto might own his soul now – because where is he but the left hand of the devil? – but damned if he’s going to willingly give him anything else. The next word is a lot of things – a question, and a promise, and a sigh of resignation – but it’s not letting Magneto win either, and though they’re both small and pointless gestures in the face of everything else he can’t help it ”Later”

Nothing left to hold things together for any more… John limps off, conscious of the million and one ways he’s coming apart at the seams and dying slowly and agonisingly from the only one that really matters.

[Magneto]

Magneto couldn't help but smirk at the little spat between Pyro and Bobby, finding satisfaction in the oh so apparent split which was taking place between the two. Magneto had counted on this to happen, one of the major reasons why he had forced Pyro's hand on this. Splitting these two apart was crucial if Magneto was to keep a thumb on his young protege and with any hope, young mister Drake would hate the old man even more, possibly to the point of wanting to kill him, yet another advantage which could be twisted around and made to draw Pyro closer to the Brotherhood.

Turning his head slowly at Pyro's words, Magneto smiled at Bobby, slamming the metal door shut as Pyro limped away and this time keeping enough magnetic pressure on it to keep it closed. You see, unlike some telekinetic, Magneto could focus his powers on multiple things at once, altering magnetic fields in different areas of the same space without having them affect one another. "Well, that was interesting," he said holding back a short chuckle of laughter and as he turned to face his prisoner once again, letting his magnetic grasp on Bobby's shackles slip and letting the boy have a moment of false freedom. "I can imagine your a bit confused right now mister Drake, but don't worry, you'll be enlightened soon enough and safe and sound back with your friends,"he said still holding that sick smile of his, "Granted that you don't try and do something stupid and that your friends just do as I say and don't interfere with what I have planned for your homo sapien partners at Neverland," he said as his smiled faded a bit now and as his cold blue eyes leveled on Bobby. The boy which stood before Magneto deserved to be punished for his treason and betrayal of brothers, but now was not the time nor the place, no that would come later.

[Bobby Drake]

There’s something weird about these shackles. Bobby’s been hoping he’d get his strength back in time to bust out of here, but it doesn’t seem to be happening… in fact, he can’t seem to manage even the smallest temperature shifts. And the manacles seem like ordinary metal, but they feel weird… like they’re biting his wrists or something, like an electrical shock except not like that at all.

It takes him a long time to recognize the feeling as cold. When he does, he comes closer to panic than he has so far. They’re suppressing my powers somehow! His first thought was that the Brotherhood also kidnapped Jimmy, but that can’t be right… Mags is using his powers. His second thought he refuses to let form completely.

> “I can imagine your a bit confused right now mister Drake, but don't worry, you'll be enlightened soon enough and safe and sound back with your friends, granted that you don't try and do something stupid and that your friends just do as I say and don't interfere with what I have planned for your homo sapien partners at Neverland,"

Bobby was going to stay silent, give away nothing, but he finds he can’t… the only way he knows to conceal his fear is by mouthing off, and even here where he knows he won’t actually be able to hide it, he tries anyway. "Look, whatever you’re going to do, just do it, OK? I’m having a bad enough day without having to listen to you pretending to be polite. Or, for that matter, listening to you at all. And for the record, Eric, you got that ‘partnership’ thing backwards… we were shutting ‘em down, you’re the one using ‘em as a damned PR tactic, and you attacking Neverland’ll do more to help the folks who ran the damned place than anything we ever did, so while you’re at not talking anymore how ‘bout you just shut about that too, OK?"

Yeah… that’s smart, Drake. Piss off the guy who can split you open like a wishbone. Real clever. But really, did it even matter? Bobby was helpless and captured, Magneto was going to do whatever he wanted. At least I can go out in style, right?

[Magneto]

Magneto let Bobby have his little moment of ranting and crying, for to be honest, the old man had gotten quite used to it with Pyro. Youth it seemed was wasted on the young, a saying Magneto himself never quite understood until he was the old man saying it. Such arrogance and such a know it all attitude, believing in everything you read and hear and actually thinking that the goody goody thing to do will save the day and make things right, that talking will always solve any problem.....how humorous.

The tone Bobby had adopted with Magneto, choosing to refer to him as Erik and treating him like he was some equal didn't set well with Erik and had it not been for the simple fact that he currently needed mister Drake alive, he would have torn the boy in half and been done with him. The boy may have been a pupil of Charles' but the way he acted now was nothing but a very large disappointment to the memory of such a great mutant.

"You were shutting them down?," he asked with a laugh as he began to move across to the right side of the room, turning his gaze from Bobby, "And just how where you planning on doing that mister Drake? Walk up to their front door and ask them nicely?," he asked as his laughter grew, picking and goading at his prisoner just a bit. "Do you honestly think that this war can be solved with words and pretty smiles? The homo sapiens have already crossed the line, not us and so to ensure our safety I'll just have to remind them of who and what they are dealing with," Magneto added, not caring if Bobby understood or even if he would try to understand the situation Magneto was putting himself and the rest of the Brotherhood in.

[Bobby Drake]

> “You were shutting them down? And just how where you planning on doing that mister Drake? Walk up to their front door and ask them nicely? Do you honestly think that this war can be solved with words and pretty smiles? The homo sapiens have already crossed the line, not us and so to ensure our safety I'll just have to remind them of who and what they are dealing with”

"Do you honestly think everyone but you is an idiot? " Bobby mimics Magneto’s condescending tone without thinking about it.

Bobby’s always wondered how he’d react in a situation like this, and he’s actually doing better than he’d expected. Terrified, sure, and not doing a very good job of hiding it – not good enough to fool someone who has as much experience with frightening people as Magneto does, anyway – but doing almost a good enough job to convince himself, which helps more than he thought it might.

And it’s not like he hasn’t had this conversation a thousand times already… with Professor Xavier, mostly, but also with like everybody at the Institute. You don’t get to be an X-Man without knowing why you picked that side… at least, you didn’t used to, back when the Professor was running things. But even so… talking like this to someone who can rip him in half with a thought is kinda brave, right?

Right?

Bobby shakes his head, trying not to think about it. But the thought does float through his mind that if he dies here, maybe Jake or Josh would be able to detect his death. Or maybe not, but Magneto wouldn’t know for sure either, right? And if they know he’s dead, his hostage value goes up in smoke, right?

Right?

" Anyway, we aren’t asking, nicely or otherwise. We’re using the force of law. You may have heard of it once, back before you decided you know better than everybody because you can bend steel with your mind. If you actually give a damn about the details, you can ask… but if you’re just playing games, I’ve got better things to do."

That would have been a good time to shut up, Bobby realizes; it had style. He wasn’t likely to improve on it. But he’s running off at the mouth with hardly any control over what he’s saying, the way he does when he’s nervous.

" And ‘homo sapiens’ haven’t done a damned thing, any more than Mexicans ran the Nazi concentration camps that killed your family – your homo sapien family, by the way, and I’m sure they’d be real proud of how their little boy Eric turned out. Individual assholes did awful shit and deserve to be punished. Not that you give a damn who’s guilty of what – you already lost everyone you love and just wanna take everyone else to Hell with you, right? "

The alarm-bells are starting to go off in his mind, like the screeching of brakes as the train tries to stop before it hits the bombed-out bridge. There’s such a thing as pushing someone too far, Bobby knows that, but he can’t seem to stop. He’s vaguely aware that tears are streaming down his cheeks, and he’s losing whatever fragments of poise he may have started out with, the words tripping and stumbling over choked-down sobs.

"Well, I got news for you, Eric – I’m already fucking there. So hurt me some more if that’s what gets you off – old man like you’s gotta get his kicks where he can, right? – or kill me if you’re gonna -- you think you’ve hit the eleven-million mark yet? Better get moving -- every corpse counts, right? And there ain’t much time, y’know… next time, the little needles in your chest might be curare or somethin’, and that’ll be the end of the goddamned road ‘till the next overpowered megalomaniac comes along…"

He doesn’t exactly stop, but he loses coherence, and is choking too much to be understood anyway. Somewhere in his head he’s looking away from himself, embarrassed… he’d expected to do better than this, not to turn into some kind of sobbing sniveling wretch. Sorry, Professor… guess I turned out to be just a scared little kid, after all. Maybe the next team’ll get it right.

[Magneto]

There was no doubt that Bobby Drake was a brave boy, but there was a fine line between being brave and just being plain stupid, a line which mister Drake seemed to not only crossed but jumped across screaming and with both arms flailing wildly. It appeared the boy wasn't too far off from John.....but then again, at least John was capable of learning from his mistakes.......well...sometimes. Bobby was angry, fine but he was still at the mercy of a man who had only the minimal of patience for traitors and a very sore spot when it came to moments of his past.

The little snide comments on the 'force of the law' was laughable at best, the ignorance of those who still had some sort of hope in the Cesar's who ran their country. Did Bobby really think that the concentration camps would just be swept right back into line.....and by the very ones who appointed them and paid the salaries to run them? Magneto couldn't help but just shake his head and let out a chuckle and if Bobby had just stopped there, then maybe the old man might have just left.....too bad Bobby wasn't quite the student of Xavier's as he thought.

This entire situation just went from bad to worse and it only took about a half a second for the chains which were anchored to the walls to be yanked free from the tile and then wrapped around Bobby, rather tightly and painfully. The ends which had been anchored to the wall now soared upward and were drove through he ceiling, hoisting Bobby from the floor and dangling him in the air. "And what about your parents 'Bobby'? How proud are they of their son right now? And I don't mean your little brother either, I mean the one they pretend they don't have anymore?," he asked, taking a few steps toward his captive all the while tightening the grip the metallic chains had on Bobby's body. "We'd ask mine if we could. How about I give you a shovel and you start digging and when you find about two thousand bodies, you can start looking for which one's belong to me," he added as he hissed through clenched teeth, now face to face with Bobby. "They'll do it again, mark my words and no 'force' of your so called law will stop them. You'll see that I'm right mister Drake.....they've already found a way to make us 'harmless', so what do you suppose is the next step?," he asked as he still tightened the chains on Bobby, but making sure not to severely harm the boy, after all, he still needed him.....alive and breathing.

The door to the room was flung open wildly and a young woman, probably no older than either John or Bobby stood there, giving a slight squeak of surprise and putting her hands up to her mouth. "Elliot....see that Pyro's being a good boy will you?," he asked her, but both knew it was more of an order than a request. "Yeah....s-s-sure boss," she stuttered and closed her eyes, reaching out to the little fire starter.

[Bobby Drake]

That… hurt.

Or, rather, hurts, since Magneto shows no signs of stopping. The burning in his shoulders as he’s yanked up into the air is the least of it – while the chains stop just short of actually crushing his chest, they still squeeze like a vise and Bobby’s convinced that at any moment his lungs are going to collapse or his ribs are going to snap like toothpicks and puncture something. He stops talking, stops sobbing, his entire body focused on the suddenly difficult task of drawing each new breath.

In a strange way he appreciates that… there was a moment there where he might have said something sniveling he’d never forgive himself for, some clichéd line out of one of those movie scenes where the guy turns out to be a wuss after all. Because, make no mistake, it hurts. Except he couldn’t draw the breath to say anything at the time, and now… now it’s different.

> " And what about your parents 'Bobby'? How proud are they of their son right now? And I don't mean your little brother either, I mean the one they pretend they don't have anymore? "

That should have hurt. Bobby usually tries hard not to think about his parents and the way they reacted to finding out about him. Sure, the Professor had tried to explain it all the first two times, when he’d had to wipe their memories of it… and it had helped that the third time they hadn’t freaked out quite so badly… but it still hurts to think about them.

Or, rather, it usually hurts.

The thing about physical pain, he’s learning, is that it’s concrete, it’s real, it focuses the attention on the here and the now. The fact that his parents think of him as some kind of embarrassing freak is, miraculously, shoved unceremoniously into the category of “things that don’t matter right now.” For what seems like the first time ever he isn’t thinking about John, or Professor Xavier, or John, or Scott, or John, or Jean, or John, or his parents, or John; he isn’t thinking about how utterly he’s screwed everything up, or how he’s going to spend the rest of his life alone and unloved. He’s thinking about how to keep his arms attached to his shoulders and how to continue breathing despite the giant’s grip that’s crushing him.

Some people drink to drown their sorrows; Bobby is discovering that his can be crushed into submission. Later (and he’s beginning to suspect there really will be a later… if Magneto didn’t kill him after his last little tirade there’s a good chance he won’t kill him at all...) he’ll find that more than a little disturbing, but for now he almost welcomes the pain.

Almost.

> " They'll do it again, mark my words and no 'force' of your so called law will stop them. You'll see that I'm right mister Drake.....they've already found a way to make us 'harmless', so what do you suppose is the next step? "

Perversely, it’s the rhetorical question that catches his attention, a lecturer’s habit that seems teasingly familiar until he remembers Professor Xavier asking questions like that in class… without the snide commentary, but it’s the same kind of question, and he’s startled to discover that the habit of answering them is still ingrained, even in this decidedly nonacademic setting. "They could’ve…" he starts, then wheezes to a stop, unable to spare the breath for speech. He finishes the reply in his mind: They could’ve killed you instead of using the damned Cure, and they didn’t.

He flashes back on Magneto’s face as his chest becomes a pincushion of plastic hypodermics. It really could’ve been curare, or worse.

At another time he’d discard the idea. That’s not how the X-Men operate, he’d have reminded himself; they aren’t killers. But the last tightening of the chains around him sends a whole new kind of pain shooting up his spine, driving away the world for a moment and leaving him drowning in agony. He thinks he screams, he isn’t sure. When he recovers, sweating and dizzy and almost suffocating with the impossibility of taking a damned breath, that image returns to his mind, along with a cold, calculating rage he’s never felt before.

It’s a good feeling. Comfortable. It blocks out fear, it makes the pain tolerable. He hugs the feeling to him, strokes the image of pincushion-Magneto in his mind, glares at his captor through sweat-stung eyes.

They could have killed you, old man... and they didn't. Next time I won't make the same mistake.