The people who took them, plucked them one by one from their mission observing a Hydra cell in Alaska, may have been great kidnappers but they needed a little help on what to do with their victims once the deed had been done. Scott had been left on a gurney, a power dampener clamped around his wrist, in a damp room with a flickering light, sharp tools laid out beside him. Both his arms are strapped to the bed with thick ropes, the mission must not have been important enough to splash out on real handcuffs. Wiggling out of them is easy, and when he grabs his glasses, tucking them into his pocket and moves to the door he spares a moment to smile when it swings open, unlocked and without any alarms.
Bullets ricocheting down the corridor quickly stamp out any joy he has. Taking off down the corridor he has a few seconds to take in the sight of unfamiliar mutants and men fighting before he’s tackled to the ground, an inhuman noise ripping from his throat as pain erupts down his back. The clogging stench of wet dog assaulting him fills in the missing pieces of the situation.
Magneto’s new ‘brotherhood of evil mutants’ had been taking the headlines recently. Tales of their crimes reaching the press every other day. Whichever anti-mutant group had snagged Scott and the X-men had also caught the ire of the Master of Magnetism clearly. Bad for them, bad for Scott too. Though the X-men and Brotherhood hadn’t fought yet, his team had gone against Magneto dozens of times before.
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Which is why he’s surprised when the mutant atop of him, probably Sabretooth from the smell of dog breath, is yanked off him violently. Struggling till he’s able to prod at the scratches running down his back, he’s greeted with red when he pulls his hand back. The crimson of his blood surging out and now trailing down his wrist. Then the amber of Jean’s hair as, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lifted like a ragdoll and thrown, Exodus hovering before her. The red of Magneto’s costume as he returns to the ground, making his way toward Scott. He let his eyes slip closed as the mutant gets closer, Exodus trailing behind. Faintly he can hear the order to get him into the jet, right before Exodus prods at his mind and darkness takes over.
When he wakes again he’s in a bed, soft blankets wrapped around him. Weariness has engulfed him, the type of exhaustion that comes from being held unconscious by a telepath rather than from the drugs slowly being pumped into his system. A woman’s hand gently stroking his face makes him force his eyes open. It’s Jean, perched on a chair by his bedside, green eyes crinkled with worry, red hair tangled, tendrils of it escaping.
It’s Jean until it’s not Jean. Scott watches as yellow is injected into green eyes, the colours swirling together until only gold remains. He watches her red hair darkening till it’s the shade of falling leaves in August, her opulent skin turning blue. Mystique.
Before he can yell, or reason his way out of this situation, whatever this situation is, he feels a psychic touch knock on the front door of his mind, letting itself in when he doesn’t answer. Before the red-skinned mutant slips into his view, Scott knows it's Exodus breaking down his mental barriers, tearing down walls and rooms as soon as he can construct them. In the back of his mind, he wonders why Magneto feels the need to keep cannon fodder like Toad around when he has soldiers like Exodus, mutants surely able to bring countries down to their knees with a bit of strategic planning.
‘That is what we need you for.’
The words don’t make sense to him at that moment, and when he’s dragged back to the waters of unconsciousness with a firm nudge of the telepath’s power it fades from memory. When he wakes up the next day, still in the med room but thankfully without company, the remnants of another memory linger, an alabaster face and cold red eyes greeting him when he closes his eyes. His throat feels dry and raw like he’d been screaming. A headache brews in his mind, he has the feeling his mind has been pilfered every memory having been plucked out before being shoved haphazardly back into its specific box.
There are two metal hoops around his wrists now, below the puncture marks where the inhibitor was clamped on. They’re tight enough not to be removed but loose enough not to be restrictive. Realistically he knows there’s little chance of escaping the Master of Magnitism’s base with a strip of steel on your person, not that that knowledge stops him from trying.
Surprisingly Magneto is the one to find him, Scott would have thought the man had something better to do than chase prisoners across his creepy metal base. Diving around the corner and stumbling straight into the man’s chest wasn’t what Scott had been expecting to happen. Magneto has lifted his hand, by the time Scott manages to spin around, one gesture clamping the metal bracelets together and raising them in the air, leaving Scott connected to the ground by the tips of his toes.
‘’Did you really think you were going to escape?’’ Magneto carries on with his tirade when Scott doesn’t bother to answer the question. ‘’We are currently miles from the nearest town. And if by some miracle you managed to get there, alone, without food or adequate clothing, it’s not a let’s say very progressive place in terms of mutant rights.’’ Another gesture and the cuffs are lowered to the ground, as they walk Magneto grips the back of Scott’s neck like he’s an unruly kitten rather than a mutant prisoner.
‘’I don’t look like a mutant right now.’’
‘’You were injected with a high dosage of a new mutant power dampener. Our best doctor believes you’ll have your optic beams back in a couple of days.’' After a multitude of lefts and rights, they arrive back at the med bay, the metal door swinging open for them.
‘’I need my glasses back. My powers... I can’t control them.’’
Without being asked Scott sits back on the bed, reluctantly raising his arm as the Magneto manipulates the needle back in. He wouldn’t admit it but the scratches on his back had started to prickle with pain, a burning sensation on his back.
‘’I’ll make sure you have them Cyclops. And don’t fret you will be home soon enough.’’ Settling down Scott just nods, suddenly too tired to form words.
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Magneto wasn’t lying as it turned out. The next time he wakes it's due to the loud humming of a jet’s engines. Opening his eyes, the world is bathed in a familiar crimson, the weight of the glasses on his nose is a comfort. He’s sat on the floor, back resting against one of the chairs, hands pinned to the floor in front of him. The crick in his neck lets him know they’ve been flying for a few hours. Sabretooth is stood guarding him, amber eyes lazily watching him. He’s facing the wrong way but faintly Scott thinks he can hear Mystique and Magneto conversing in the cockpit.
A couple of hours later, long enough his wrists have gone numb and his limbs are begging to be stretched, the jet lands. He quickly rises to his feet when the cuffs linking him to the ground flow away, Magneto’s hand steadies him when his body jolts forward. Wrapping one arm around him Magneto walks him down the ramp, he sighs in relief when he sees the school. Jean’s at the front door, donning a cream dress rather than her latex suit, her mouth agape.
‘’You’ve served the cause well, child.’’ Scott flinches from the older mutant when he hears those words, making him sound like a loyal soldier rather than an unwilling prisoner. Without warning Magneto increases the pressure on his shoulder, encouraging him to his knees, on the soft, damp grass. The hand is gone quickly, the sound of a rustling cape marking his departure.
By the time Jean has made her way to him, the Brotherhood’s jet is in the air. The smell of coconuts fills his nose when she engulfs him in a hug, red hair in his face. It’s a welcome relief after the week of the wet dog odour of his guard and the stale, air of the medbay. Through Jean’s cries, he can feel a different mind touching his, with more care and delicacy than Exodus had shown. It stifles the pinpricks of pain lighting up now the pain meds were wearing off before it skims through his recent memories, opening them up with the care reserved for opening open a family scrapbook, taking time to look over each picture.
When he’s done Xavier opens the link a little wider, letting his care and worry bleed through the link. Burying his face into Jean’s shoulder Scott feels his eyes prickle, the relief to be home finally overwhelming him.
This was meant to be one of those 30 minute writing activities, ended up being an hour and a half and I'm not a big fan of most of it. But I thought I'd post it anyway. I've been a bit obssessed with brother of evil mutants fanfics recently. If anyone knows of or has written any I'd love to give them a read.
