Xmen is the trademarked property of Marvel, all Marvel Characters are copyrighted to Marvel, their characters are borrowed, for the purposes of the story. "No More Drama" Is the property and work of Mary J Blige, her associates and recording company.
This is a work of Gay fiction, containing adult situations between consenting males. If you are under the legal age in your country, DO NOT CONTINUE, otherwise, I hope you enjoy.
Weaver X
Chapter 12:
//You're just like your father, always running, never staying and dealing with things. Poor little child.//
The words echoed in his mind as he slowly woke on the cold tiled floor of his bathroom. Alex stretched and winced as he sat up, muscles stiff and sore from being on the floor for too long.
Alex hugged his knees to his chest and rested his head against the wall, the searing pain of earlier had passed, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness within. Staring off into the distance, Alex tried to shake off the cold assessment of his life the voice in his dreams had pronounced. Always running, never staying to face his life, his problems. Running away from home when he'd found out he was a mutant, running from the streets and his only friend Jack, running from Dimitri and the X mansion because the loneliness was too much to bear, running from the anger he'd deserved, running, running, always running.
The ache in his chest throbbed painfully, sickeningly empty of anything... Alex could feel the deep darkness that had surrounded him all his life all over him, settled on his skin like a layer of rancid oil. Sickened suddenly by the feel of his own skin, Alex turned the shower on and crawled in, under the cold spray.
He gasped at the contact of freezing cold water on his skin, and automatically began to shiver, but he didn't move to shut off the spray, or turn on warmer water. It was punishment, Alex decided, for running, always running. He stared vacantly into the distance as the spray soaked through his clothes. Whispered memories played and replayed over and over in his skull.
"Your father, the cocksucking mutant bastard will rot in hell." Whispered his mother's voice. "You're just like your father..." Another whisper from the woman who gave birth to him. The sneering looks of men as he performed the only service he could provide to keep alive, the kicks, the slaps, rough penetrating fingers tearing at sensitive flesh...
Alex inhaled raggedly and turned off the water, absently noting his fingers were bluish and stood up slowly, his usual fluid movements turned to a slow painful mockery of age. Sodden clothes, suddenly too confining were stripped off and thrown on the floor. Sudden fire galvanised Alex's soul. He'd run, and run and now he wouldn't run anymore. With a sense of purpose he hadn't felt before Alex strode in to his room and put on fresh clothes with fingers made clumsy and stiff by cold. He'd never been beaten before and he wasn't about to start being beaten now. Smiling grimly and filled with a purpose he'd never enjoyed before he flung open his door and slid into darkness...
Alex came to slowly, and sat up, or tried to sit up, only to discover that he was chained to the floor. Alex looked around in fear, his head throbbing. He was in a small room that seemed to be carved out of solid rock. The only source of light came from under what looked to be an iron prison door, one of the old ones that were solid with a small viewing window. Reflexively he reached for his ability, tried to turn the metal of his chains to rust. Nothing. A trickle of cold sweat ran down his spine. Again and again, he tried to use his mutant ability, to destroy the chains, the door, to somehow escape his cell and each time he failed.
A low mocking laugh flooded the cell and the viewing window grated open. Light flooded the small room with near unbearable brightness. It dimmed suddenly as a head obscured the light partially. Alex struggled to get a good look at his captor, and failed, the light behind him was too bright.
"No doubt you've discovered your mutant ability has been disabled." The masculine voice was deep and gravely, yet somehow smooth, almost oily in its delivery. "I never had the pleasure of meeting your father, Mister Allerdyce, but I must say I think I am going to enjoy knowing you." The voice held a mocking smile in every syllable of the words.
"Who are you?" Alex demanded. "What the hell do you want with me?" He strained at his chains, trying, futilely, to get the slightest clue as to his captor's identity.
The mocking laughter flooded the room once more and the window slammed shut. Cutting off the light, leaving Alex alone in the dark again.
Alex lost all track of time, Day or night, the light that shone dimly under the door gave no clue, it was always on. He slept and when he woke there was always food and drink just within his limited reach.
Alex knew he was in trouble, no matter what he did, there wasn't any way he could feel anything, he was completely cut off from his powers in a way he hadn't considered possible. He considered what had happened, over and over in his mind he replayed the events that led to waking up here in this hell hole of eternal night. Each time there was nothing, walking out the door and then sudden darkness. It must have been a psychic attack. He didn't have his wards up at the mansion, there didn't seem any point, the Professor was in residence, so it should have been nigh on impossible for anyone to get to him.
As time passed, Alex practiced his meditation, there was nothing else to do, and he knew he was in danger of loosing his mind, more than once he felt his mind give way into dangerous ramblings and hysteria. So he practised the meditative state the Professor had taught him. Close your eyes, ignore all noise, all light, all external stimuli fade away. Something that wasn't too hard to achieve in this cell of eternal night. Breathe in and out, regular deep breaths. Inhale, count to seven, hold it, count to four, exhale, count to seven, hold it, count to four. Clear your mind, cocoon self in the centre of self.
"I don't know, only god knows where the story ends, for me..." Alex sang quietly, his voice filled the cell, abruptly he stopped singing and laughed hysterically. He was a prisoner, kidnapped and his cell was near on perfect acoustically. The thought had him fall on the ground with laughter.
"Well, I wouldn't quite have imagined you falling about laughing in this situation." A wry voice commented quietly.
Alex froze. He was all alone in the cell and the door and viewing window remained closed. He was hearing things.
"You're not even going to ask who I am?" The masculine voice asked with a hint of confusion in the warm velvety tones. "I think I'm insulted."
Alex slowly became aware of another light source, a dim glow coming from behind him. He sat up stiffly, falling was easy, but his chains didn't allow for him to stand, and moving was becoming increasingly more difficult. Ever so slowly he turned his head and regarded the vision next to him.
It had to be a vision, or a ghost, except Alex didn't believe in ghosts. Regarding the apparition of a strong, light haired man with a cleft chin who radiated a soft silvery light, he had to admit he was beginning to be a believer. "Are you real?" He whispered.
"Yes." The apparition examined Alex closely. "Man, they've really done a number on you, haven't they?" He sighed.
Alex frowned. "What do you mean?" He demanded, feeling more than slightly crazy. He was talking to a ghost in the dark.
The apparition shook his head. "Never mind, I have to go now. I'm working on a way to get you out of here without either of us ending up as fish food. Keep holding on Alex." He raised a hand and brushed it against Alex's cheek and vanished into the wall.
Alex stared at the wall and pressed a hand to his cheek. He didn't know that ghosts could touch people, or that they'd feel warm to the touch, warm and somewhat insubstantial, but still warm. (You do know, you're completely insane) A dry corner of his mind informed him.
"Shut up." He snapped irritably and curled up in a ball on the floor. He needed to accept his situation, not hallucinate. Sooner or later he'd be found, Magneto couldn't keep him hidden forever, he hoped.
Flashes of light flickered over Alex's face, disturbing him. Groggy he opened his eyes and screamed. He was tied down on what appeared to be a table carved from rock. Various living things, for lack of a better word, some dark with blood littered the room, as though chunks of living flesh had been carved away. This, however was not what caused the scream. Two large, things, like monstrous leeches, writhing and pulsating were attached to Alex's chest, throbbing and turning a dark red with his life's blood. A trickle of blood had escaped one of them and Alex watched with fascinated horror as it slowly rolled down his chest and disappeared between the heaving monstrous creatures.
"Do you like my laboratory?" The hideous voice that had tormented him in his cell rang out behind him, thick with amusement.
At the sound of his voice, the leech like things lifted off Alex's chest, revealing circular mouths with razor sharp teeth, dripping with Alex's blood. As they moved away, ponderous with their load of blood, Alex noticed they were connected, as though they were hideous tubes to a rock-like formation, where a bubble of dark, pinkish fluid sat.
"What, what are you doing to me?" Alex finally found his voice, it was hoarse after all the screaming, barely more than a whisper.
"You, young one, are nothing more than the genetic vessel from which I intend to craft the ultimate in perfection." The voice informed him mockingly, as though a teacher to a favoured, if slightly dull student.
Thoughts raced through Alex's head, he had no idea what the hell that meant. "Fuck you!" He spat. "I know who you are Magneto, you can stop hiding in the shadows, you pathetic coward."
The mocking laughter filled the room, rolling off the walls with the force behind it. Alex had the feeling he'd just made a terrible mistake. "So, you think I am Magneto, Master of Magnetism." The words were said with a terrible, dark sarcasm. "Then you'd best think again, Magneto couldn't dream of mastering the smallest part of what I have done." The voice dropped back into oily darkness. "Magneto couldn't even seal off your powers."
"Let me go. Please." Alex was surprised to hear the quiet plea fall from his lips. The words seemed so small and lost.
The words hung in the air, so powerful an effect for such a small voice.
"You suit my purposes just as you are. However, if you were to willingly serve me...." The voice trailed off, suggestive in its dark power, the subtle nuances of tone intimated something far more intimate than mere service.
Alex swallowed with difficulty. Serve the unknown quantity for a measure of freedom or rot in his cell.
Author's Note:
One must apologise for the inordinate length of time between this and the last chapter, unfortunately one must give way to the demands of illness. Nevertheless, I'm back and will be posting at the rate of once a month from now on, hopefully! As always your feedback is appreciated.