I was born in the middle of nowhere.
At most, I could say it was somewhere in Europe, judging by the people I was surrounded with. Romani folk, a number of people with smiling faces, cooing over me as a midwife washed me and wrapped me, handing the bundle over to an exhausted looking, gorgeous matron. So, this was my mother? I made odd noises with my mouth, attempting to reach out a hand to... I don't know, bat her nose? For reasons beyond me, this pleased the people around me greatly as the man I assumed to be my father wrapped an arm over my mother's shoulder as they spoke in a language I couldn't understand just yet. At the very least, they seemed to love each other which is more than I could say for most, as they pressed foreheads and then my mother offered me to my father.
His hands were gentle, unshaking and he seemed to be holding back tears as he rocked me back and forth. This deserved something nice I felt, and I smiled or tried to. He choked back a sob and spoke to my mother once more.
"
"
"
She nodded and beamed, as he passed me back gently into her arms, cooing as she spoke a name over and over, interposed with more of that odd language.
"
My name was Victor? Huh.
I liked it!
I guess I was Victor!
... Now if only I remembered why this felt so familiar...
I grew up, acknowledged by my caravan as a genius.
This was both entirely unearned as well as very much earned, though I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice it to say, that inserting a grown man's knowledge into a child means never having to suffer through simple additions, history and so forth. I was quietly reading, while other children were playing-not that I didn't have friends. Well... One friend.
Again, getting ahead of myself. Sometime along my seventh birthday, I discovered something about myself and at the same time, met my best friend. That being that I was a reincarnated soul, and the second being the proof that came with it. I called it 'The Sheet' and my subconscious for whatever reason, translated it as a D&D character sheet. Maybe it was because of the ease of it, or perhaps because of some cosmic reason I had yet to determine? I don't know, and I really didn't care beyond what it gave me.
Artificer was one of my favorite classes after all, and with my current mindset and subsequently seeming 'maturity beyond my years', I had little in common with any of the other kids and cared nothing for interactions beyond the bare minimum. It sucked I was level one, but I was confident that time would change that and currently I was working on just that.
I didn't know the qualifications of 'experience' whether it was milestones, my own efforts, or even simple violence. But I was willing to learn which was why, I was tinkering on my current device. Some parts from a radio, some odds and ends and junk I had scavenged, dumpster diving whenever our caravan came to small towns across Europe had all netted me a great haul. Enough to work on an odd glove that would be my focus, my medium as I slowly, with a magnifying glass I had made from reading glasses, I laid down circuits and would soon be finished.
"What are you doing?"
So of course, I had to get interrupted by the one person who didn't care about my reputation, much less my personal space.
"Go away Valeria." I said curtly, not looking up as I continue to fix the glove. Valeria Ashton, a slightly pudgy girl with curious eyes peered on at my work, not moving an inch. I scowled internally and outwardly, feeling her eyes on me before I spoke again.
"If you're hard of hearing, you could always ask father for help. He should have something for your ears."
To this rejoinder, she only laughed and dared to sit down next to me as she spoke. "You're funny. Dad told me to watch you and make sure you don't blow yourself up again."
"That was ONE time!" I said hotly. There were mitigating circumstances around that incident, which no one in the Zefiro caravan (of which we were called) failed to remind me of at least once a week. I had just realized I had magic or a variant of it at the time. I had also been experimenting and testing out my cantrip. Finally, it was an ugly looking blanket, mom said so and consequently, nothing of value was really lost. Valeria laughed and looked back at the glove as she asked.
"So... What is it?"
I shrugged and held it up for inspection as I slipped it on, connecting suction cups connected to wires on my wrist and about my arm.
"It's a prototype to help mom! It channels ambient prana and my own, internalizing it to produce a number of effects. But mostly, I wanted to make it so I can help her clean the wagon." It was something I realized about my magic; I had no tomes nor spellbooks to correlate and didn't really hold out much hope to find anything of the sort. In order to use my own, it had to be channeled through the medium of technology. With enough raw materials and some forethought, I could more or less intuitively craft my machines needed to conduct my spells.
In this case? With the glove on, I grabbed the filthy shirt I had taken from the laundry basket and channeled energy.
Immediately, the filth fell away and left a clean shirt. I grinned broadly as I cried out.
"It works! It works!"
"That is SO cool!" Valeria cried out and I spoke gleefully, looking at her. "I know, right?!"
"Let's go show Uncle Werner and my dad!"
I hastily gathered up my tools, Valeria gathering the rest in her apron as we went running for the caravan. Or rather, caravans of which we were one of many. The rest stop in question was a popular one, and one of significance to our group in particular. Set in the clearing on the far outskirts of a village, at least four caravan trains had come together and almost overnight, a new town had sprung up.
Colorful wagons, the scent of cookfire smoke and delicious foods mingled with herbs hanging from windows, and the sound of music from old radios. Gossip flowed like water, mingled with the laughter of children as everyone bore a little mark, here and there of our caravans. Soon enough, we approached our own before I slowed down and moved my arm up to stop Valeria from moving past me. Almost stumbling, she frowned at me.
"What was that for?"
"Look." I nodded and she turned, blinking once. Valeria's father, Uncle Boris and my own dad were kneeling besides a crude stretcher. Mother was giving water to one of our people I knew scouted for us, her hand holding a ladle as he drank like he had just walked out of the Sahara. Even Valeria realized something was very wrong, and by unspoken agreement we began to sneak our way closer. Valeria, nudging me gestured to the wagon itself as we crawled under and snuck our way towards the current mess. I could hear father, speaking aloud as anger filled his voice.
"-Corneal abrasions, broken ribs, this... Were they trying to kill him?!"
Valeria gasped and I covered her mouth, though I was little better. I could see the man on the stretcher now, one of our own groaning quietly and looking like he'd been beaten near to death. My fathers fingers were gentle, ghosting over as Uncle Boris helped him out. The man mother had been helping, suddenly choked out full of anger.
"They may as well have! We were just walking when the soldiers came to us! They asked for ID, and we presented it! Then they said we weren't allowed in town! Poor Chester here asked why, and they began to beat him in broad daylight and made me watch! I... I was a coward, I was afraid-" He began to sob, and I heard mothers voice sooth him.
"You did all that you could. You came back alive and with our brother and that is all we could ask for. Go rest... My husband and our brother have the matter well in hand."
"Right... Yes, I'm just... Please tell me if he wakes?"
"Of course." Mother said, and as he stumbled off, Uncle Boris rose and spoke. "Werner, I'm going to check on him and make sure he sleeps. We might still have some of those herbs too."
She nodded, and Uncle Boris moved off as father continued to work, quietly before mother spoke up.
"He's getting bolder. Its not going to stop."
"So, we leave." Father said curtly. "We leave, go forever and never come back." Mothers voice was scornful in reply, a quality I admired when she got into it. I resolved to learn that tone someday myself, as she gave father the facts.
"And if we do, what happens to our people? Our friends? Not everyone is as lucky as we are, able to pull up roots and flee when the going gets rough!"
"I'm thinking about our family, our tribe." Father says impatiently as he adds. "This is beyond us and our power. We are Romani, used to persecution and wise to the ways of avoiding it."
"The Werner I knew, was not such a coward." Mother accuses as father smiles and says slyly.
"The Cynthia I married, is still as beautiful as the day we met. Love..." He sighed, moved closer and took her hand. Squeezing it, he spoke. "... I know you wish to fight. But a true war, a civil war if it came to it would not go well. This is not a kind land for our kind, and those who might matter are deep in the pockets of Fortunov. No information goes in or out, and even our university is rife with politics and backstabbing. This is why I left it all... That, and a pretty Romani girls smile to a poor, country doctor."
"Hardly poor." Mother spoke, her tone becoming more flirtatious as Valeria made a 'bleh' expression.
"You gave me a beautiful son after all, and a wonderful life... Werner." She sighed out and I could see her squeeze fathers' hand back. "I worry for the future. I worry for our son and what life he has to face, here. Will we stand aside and let our son face these burdens? Perhaps it will be him someday, laying in a stretcher for no reason other than he existed. I cannot, I will not allow this."
Father was quiet and moved his arms to embrace her. Feeling I was peering at something private now, I snuck out and Valeria followed after, both of us by mutual, unspoken agreement heading for a hill that overlooked our caravan town. For the longest time, we were silent and then she leaned on me which I allowed. That was a pretty deep thing we both glimpsed at. I knew it would not all be fun and games, and it seemed this third bloc country was one of the challenges ahead.
"Victor?"
"Yes Valeria?" I asked, glancing at my only friend by dint of family ties and sheer, bone-headedness. She looked worried, looking out across the landscape before she finally spoke.
"Promise me, you'll be alright? That you'll be careful?"
I thought about the rumors going around, the unrest and the face of our caravan scout glimpsed briefly. I nodded, once as I spoke aloud.
"Cross my heart."
Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to have found it as she closed her eyes. "Ok."
I sighed aloud... Stuck being a kid's mattress. We stayed there for two hours, before going back to the caravan. By that night, the caravans were on the move, and we were long, gone from that village.
Unfortunately, as life and my own experience would have borne out, things would only get worse before they got better.
I may have a fanfic problem.
Three years passed. The world moved on and we wandered further and further off the beaten path, remaining just ahead of the current regime as we attempted to live quiet lives.
To the children, the caravan collectively agreed to lie to our faces in order to preserve our happiness and our ignorance for just a little while longer. As far as Valeria and I were concerned, this was seen through easily and I in particular, kept my eyes open. Father and Uncle Boris in particular were kept busy, supplementing our supply of medical components with natural remedies and whenever we stopped, would take the time to harvest them in the wild with Uncle Boris often taking Valeria with them. No wonder, as I knew she was eventually slated to replace him as future healer and was learning from father as well.
I know I said she was annoying, but honestly that was the more the frustration of a grown man in the body of a child. She was a sweet, emphatic kid and I knew she'd make a great healer because of it someday. Not that I myself was falling behind in terms of things to do and thus needed to constantly, measure myself to others.
My power glove was a big hit, and it worked on dishes, clothing, wagons and saved us a lot on fresh water in places we couldn't get it. Our caravan praised my genius, my parents for teaching me and while I unfortunately couldn't replicate it for others (considering it was just my focus), I did learn I could use it to induce combustion. And thus, my second cantrip Fire Bolt was born and I admit, I had a lot of fun with target practice on whatever stump was set up by our wagon.
But while Valeria learned from father and Uncle Boris and the community praised my help, my thoughts dwelt on mother.
More than anyone else, the state of our homeland troubled her. This... Fortunov had been slowly consolidating his power and his secret police and private army obeyed his every whim. He was yet another two-bit warlord, a despot whose actions kept affecting us in small, sinister ways and every time it did, mother got an expression on her face I wasn't sure I liked, and as a result I made sure to hug her every time I got when I saw it. It helped a little-she'd be shocked out of whatever daydream she had, hugging me back immediately with a desperation I knew intimately. I knew then I'd gone truly native, as I swore whatever happened? Nothing would happen to my mother.
I'd kill them all first.
I had power, it was time I tested the limits out.
In a clearing off to the side, I let out a slow breath. We had found ourselves a village where we had always been welcomed before. While the adults were talking with the village head, I'd be focusing on the Sheet. Scanning it, reading it over and the limits of my capabilities as I fixed my glove... More of a gauntlet now, I guess. Better materials and access to our farrier's forge allowed me to make something a bit more armored, though I needed his help with the more solid pieces.
It was essentially a poor man's Infinity Gauntlet, being able to make the laws of physics cry in a corner by drawing upon my personal prana. I had five effects, but only enough of a personal generator to produce two at any given day before I needed rest. Cantrips of course, could be done constantly and I had little in the way of feeling any drain if at all from it. Further experimentation also revealed that two of my chosen effects could have the drain mitigated if I took but ten minutes to adjust for energy input. It was not something I could replicate with the others, but I admit it was nice to keep our food reserves lasting longer with my gauntlet, keeping it nice and fresh.
The other effect allowed me to see an 'aura' of sorts, with my gauntlet in particular glowing in my sight through a pair of old glasses I had hooked up. The day I perfected that however, I realized there was another glow, faint but there.
And it was coming from my own home wagon.
I grew curious, I admit. I entered our wagon, glanced around and realized it was coming from a chest. Mother tended to hide that one, though I had noticed her eyeing it more than once as the glow continued to emanate from it. While locked, it proved no obstacle to my skill as I picked the padlock and slowly, opened the lid.
Inside, I saw curious collection of items and I knew them immediately. Tomes, scrolls, arcane works and in awe, I reached for them-and suddenly jerked back, as a shadow loomed and the lid slammed down. I turned and mother, her face pale was set in a furious expression that I admit made me cringe back as she spoke.
"What are you doing?! That's private! You cannot touch those!"
"Sorry mother, I just-"
"NO! Stupid boy! Do you understand?!" She grabbed me by the shoulders, looking me in the eye as she breathed out and I realized what she was trying to express.
Mother was afraid as she removed my glasses, cupped my face in her hands as she looked me over before breaking. I would have almost preferred her anger, as she hugged me tightly. As she did, she whispered, and I don't think I was meant to hear.
"You cannot have him. I will not allow it."
And for as long as she wanted, I stayed there... Hugging her, unmoving as the source of the trouble laid there, unlocked.
That night, I pretended to be asleep as father and mother spoke about the incident.
"... The village elder traded with us, but he does not want us here. Fortunov's men are roaming further afield, taking undesirables and he worries about his people."
"Cowards." Mother muttered, before there was a rustle of cloth and she turned over before whispering. "Werner... I caught Victor sneaking into my chest." Silence fell, and then fathers voice grew lower, and I had to strain to hear them.
"Is everything-?"
"It's fine. I caught him just in time. Our son picked the lock, after claiming his invention let him see the energy emitting from my tools. He takes after both of us it seems." There was faint pride in her voice, and I admit, I had might had puffed up a bit. Father, ever more practical though no less proud would speak.
"Has he heard your patron?" Mothers voice suddenly became harsh like before. "No. And he never will, not if I can help it. And this time, my son is not some desperate, terrified woman either... Werner. I... I can hear him. Every time we are driven out, every time the soldiers come for us. I can't help but feel that I can end this, that I can do something."
"But at what cost my love?"
Fathers voice was gentle, as I risked opening an eye. I needn't had bothered, father and mother had eyes for each other alone.
"With Victors inventions, we're doing far better now. Soon, we shall be at the border and out of this land. Sokovia will be a better life for us all. And perhaps someday, even America! We need only endure just a little longer my love."
"Werner Van Damne, you are a silver-tongued bastard." Mother said with amusement.
"Ah, but you've never complained about my silver tongue before love."~
What she said back, I ended up missing because of a little bit of information suddenly sliding into place, as I had an epiphany.
Cynthia.
Sokovia.
Victor.
Holy shi-
I was stupid.
The next day, I moved half-distracted, breezing through chores and helping the other members of the caravan, as the rest of my mind was focused on the sheer, mind-blowing revelation of who exactly, I had reincarnated into. There was also the fact that I had no idea if this was an Ultimates sort of verse from the Van Damne name or more of an MCU one, judging from Slokovia. I had no idea, no information and so I made sure to do so in the most subtle, direct way possible I had available.
I asked my parents.
"Mother?"
Mom, Cynthia Van Damne looked up from her work as I brought in the newest batch of healing potions, I had been crafting with fathers' help. The spell Cure Wounds was a more immediate thing, and incited regeneration in the body when I used it on a grand scale. The potions on the other hand, required only materials and downtime and you can bet your ass I abused the hell out of it, if only to give my new family a fighting chance.
Mother looked them over, nodded in approval and smiled down at me. Since the incident with the chest, I never went back to it, and I think she was relieved as well. It certainly made her more approving, when she looked over my newest method to help the caravan as she spoke. "Yes my son?"
I looked her straight in the eye.
"In world war II, was there ever a man on fire, a naked man in his underwear who swam with wings on his feet, or a man with a shield that had a star?"
Mother blinked and she put the back of her hand on my forehead absently, before she finally spoke slowly.
"Noooo to the first and second. The third, yes. The American's had produced a symbol for the war, who subsequently fought hard against our great enemy. They called him 'Captain America' and there are few here who do not owe a debt to that man."
"Whatever happened to him?" I asked curiously and mother smiled sadly, smoothing my hair.
"He died, my son. What brought these odd questions on?"
"No reason. Thank you!" I moved to hug her tightly, enjoying the hug back and immediately ran out to my clearing as mother watched me leave. Ok, SO! I can safely parse out the standard Marvel setting. No Human Torch, no Namor-fuck that fish guy in particular. Speaking of Human Torch, I realized someday I was going to meet him and the rest of his group and resolved to be a bit nicer this time around. I was Victor, but not Doom if you get my drift.
I was also fricking ten years old and even with my Artificer abilities, I could only do so much. Curse these ten-year-old, noodle arms!
"Hey, nerd!"
And speaking of ten-year-old's, I rolled my eyes and looked flatly towards the trio intercepting as I said flatly.
"Hello Wagner."
Wagner if I had to describe him, was basically a hobo's Gaston if you stuck him into kid form. His father was one of the hunters of the caravan and consequently, he had odd ideas of what made a 'real man'. He was thirteen to my ten, had two hangers-on I didn't bother to learn their names and for some reason, had a real chip on his shoulder. Without any sort of preamble, he started to bother me.
"Give me your gauntlet."
"No." I said flatly, having heard this time and again as his cronies blocked my path. Wagner grinned, smoothing back his hair as I rolled my eyes. Oh no, children... Whatever will I do? Idly, I realized he was talking again, and I focused my attention briefly to hear what he was saying now.
"-c'mooooon. Just a little peek! You're hogging it all to yourself, you need to share."
"It's not a toy and its utterly useless to anyone but me." I said flatly as I add. "I hadn't the crayons nor the paper required to drive this into your head as well. If you'll excuse me-"
One of the cronies grabbed my shoulder, keeping me in place and I fixed him with an utter, look of disdain and disgust I could muster, channeling my own experiences as well as my mother's methods.
He faltered and I took the opportunity to step around him, walking calmly off. Wagner cried out after me.
"Freak! Everyone knows the Van Damnes are all witches! Like your mom!"
It was a weak insult. The least of insults really. I was a grown man in a child's body, I had maturity, experience and more. It shouldn't and never meant a single thing.
So why was I running back, letting out a cry like Tarzan as I smashed my gauntlet-clad hand against Wagner's nutsack?
Around at that point, it kind of got out of control as all four of us began tumbling, fighting. It was still three on one though and I didn't want to kill anyone by accident. Unfortunately, it meant I was getting the worst of it before fate intervened. A familiar voice cried out, a young one as the swish noise of a stick swung through the air was heard, followed by the slap of it on flesh and the surprised cries of pain.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM! JERKS!"
The boys scrambled away, and I breathed out... Dusty, a black eye and split lip to my name and more than a few low blows to my credit. Standing just over me, dressed in a rather nice homespun dress and barefoot was Valeria, leaning on a broom as she looked me over with worry. Three years had done a lot for her, as she lost the baby fat and started looking far prettier to my verge-of-puberty mindset which I made sure to crush utterly, whenever it popped up.
She reached out a hand and as I took it and rose up, I winced and cleaned myself off with Prestidigitation as Valeria scoffed and gently, took my cheek in hand as she looked me over.
"C'mon. We're going to my father."
I could heal myself up instantly without a problem. She knew it, I knew it. I could had just taken a healing draught as well. By taking me to Uncle Boris, she was helping me in one of the few ways she could, as well as expanding her experience as a healer. Recognizing the unspoken bit, I endured the pain and nodded once as I spoke.
"Yes dear."
She scowled, but her face was a little red, so I judged that a win as she took me to her home wagon.
The home of my friend and Uncle Boris was a simple one. Like father, Uncle Boris was a healer though he had not been trained at a medical university. His was much more conventional, a passing down of tradition within the tribe as well as an encyclopedic knowledge of herbs and remedies. It always smelled of herbs here, bunches of them hanging and drying from the ceiling as Valeria dragged me into the wagon, sat me down and prepared with the ease of someone for whom it was second nature.
Uncle Boris was not around, so I presumed he was talking to my parents again as I sat there and she gently, began to dab around me as she finally spoke. "You always get into a fight with them." I stiffened and scowled, regretting it as the split lip came into play.
"They insulted my mother."
"Momma's boy." Valeria said, but fondly as she added. "I'm just glad I had been cleaning. They could had done much worse."
"It was nothing but a child's argument." I dismissed. "Vultures, all of them after the prize of greater people."
"Yes, my lord and master." She said mockingly in reply. I knew it was a mistake to teach her sass, as she held my face in her hands, and she spoke firmly.
"It was wrong of them and if you won't talk to your parents about it, I will." She would too, I knew. She worried about me a lot, and suffocating as it might had been as a child with a child's mind, I knew she was just trying to keep control as best she could. Like me, she wasn't blind to the problems of our caravan and how difficult it was to leave the country.
If we were caught, we'd all be in trouble and so planning and scheming was the word of the day. So, in exchange, I sighed out and gave a small nod.
"I'll tell dad later, I promise."
"And Aunty Cynthia." Valeria threatened, seeing right through me and I cursed inwardly. She caught my loophole-father was much calmer about these things. Mother, as a bonafide witch would be far more on the warpath and I sighed out. "Fiiiiiine." I whined, indulging in the associations with my physical age as I pouted.
"I promise to be a total snitch, blackmailed into it."
"You better believe it." She retorted, and when she was done, she sat next to me, and we just enjoyed the quiet for what it was.
So of course, things started getting worse.
"They have our people."
After dinner, the children had all been put to bed while the grownups talked around the fire in a meeting. So naturally, I and Valeria snuck out to listen in on it. Valeria did it because she wanted to keep an eye on me and I did so, because I had no idea where in any given Marvel timeline I was in and wanted to keep my finger on the pulse.
Beneath one of the wagons in the dark, we listened in and the talk was grim as Uncle Boris spoke aloud. He was a gentle man, and slow to anger so hearing actual rage in his voice was disconcerting.
"They were waiting for us, back in the village. We managed to sneak out, but the kings' men still managed to get some of our people. We've also learned what they're doing with them-rounding them up, taking them elsewhere."
"Do we know where?" Father asked and Boris shook his head. I bit my lip, contemplative before I looked to Valeria. She looked back at me, both of us contemplating before she finally spoke.
"I'm coming with you."
"No." I said flatly, as she scowled and pointed at my face. "Either I come, or I scream now and tell your mother."
Tattle-tell. But the need to know outweighs the risk and it's only a quick stopover, in and out.
The ruler of this nation was unusually heavy handed and taking 'undesirables' felt like something else behind the curtain. If I could understand it, it was possible I could do something about it and be more prepared in the future. In, out... Come back with new intelligence and tell mother and father.
What could go wrong?
"Your quota is not up to snuff my friend. You were meant to get me fifteen subjects, you have brought me eight."
"Sir, they were the only ones we could get. If-"
"-What? Truly? Isn't there an entire village you said was present?"
A horrified silence entered the conversation and the man sighed, turning in his chair to the soldier.
"Your master has given me your services. Therefore, what I say are the words of your master. Get. Me. More. Subjects. Or you may choose among your own troupe, the least of your people to join them."
A scream echoed out, and the soldier paled as the man smiled. In one last effort, the soldier spoke.
"Sir... Our people..."
The man scoffed and flapped a hand impatiently. "They're just peasants." As if smiling at a secret joke, he added slyly.
"Cut down one, two more rise to take their place." Award ReplyReport468The Last Hunter21/5/2023Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks The Devil's Hand View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him27/6/2023Add bookmark#19This was stupid. For all my power and skill, I was still a child. My resources were limited to cantrips and what I could grab, dumpster diving or snuck off the shelves of our medical wagon. Not too much of the latter, I had no intention of a lack of proper supplies harm my family for lack of a better word. Because they truly were my family, even if they hadn't been due to Victor Van Damne and his personality. Even those bullies, caring about childish things and threats I felt an odd affection for if only because I knew there was more to come and such things in contrast would make them grow up soon.
But I needed experience, and I needed knowledge, if I was going to become whom I wanted to be, whoever that may be. The MCU never had a Doctor Doom, never had a Latveria or similar. Until I could get somewhere with more information access, I wouldn't know and if there was something the original Doom and I could agree on, it was the fact that both of us felt a lack of knowledge was unacceptable. So, on paper, investigating and possibly, looting new tools and materials was a fine idea.
Not so much, accompanied by a third wheel.
To her credit, Valeria was quiet and didn't complain in the least. We had been walking in the dark, save for the light cast by my gauntlet and she didn't so much as say a single word in protest. Simply ensuring she kept up, walking with me in silence which only made me twitchier. She didn't ask why I had left, nor why this was so important to me to sneak out. All she did, was follow and keep me in sight and I finally couldn't stand it anymore.
"Why are you with me?" She didn't pause in her walk, just stared at me as I flushed and tried my best to elucidate. "I mean it. This was a mission that could had been done by myself more easily. You have no skills, aside from your propensity for stealth and unless we've really gotten ourselves in trouble, we shouldn't get into any fights. So why did you come with me? It could be dangerous."
She scowled and suddenly moved around, blocking my way. I stopped an instant before bumping into her as she leaned in, and I leaned back. "So." Her voice was scathing, and I winced internally, having never seen her angry before-well, not at me. It was a disconcerting experience I found, as she spoke.
"You think I'm useless, is that it? Victor Van Damne thinks he's surrounded by idiots, as usual."
"I never said that!" I retorted, a little angry she was pulling this on me. "I just don't want you hurt! Uncle Boris and my parents would be furious, if I let anything happen to you! You're the favorite child after all."
"That's because I'm the pretty one." Said Valeria, with a bit of smugness as she stepped back, suddenly calm and all her anger vanished before she held up something familiar. A rolled-up leather I knew intimately, as my tools clicked together, and she asked.
"Is this important?"
I slapped my hand down on my belt, looking down and sure enough, my tools which remained on my hip were gone. I felt disconcerted and out of place as I spoke. "... You were faking being angry."
"Of course, I was." Valeria said patiently, before looking worried as she stepped closer and held out my belongings. "Victor... Look at me, please." I did so, as she leaned in and squeezed my hand. I realized I was furious, for what seemed like so little a thing as she made sure to keep eye contact with me. I felt odd again-I was never this broke up over things like this before. It happened, I laughed and that was that.
Instead, I felt rage. Rage that I didn't forsee it, that I wasn't already building death rays from cans and wire. Rage that Valeria lied to me to my face and I wasn't insightful enough to see it. I felt rage that I was a child, and without the resources and reputation to help the people I wanted. I felt helpless I realized, and it was not something that I nor Victor Van Damne had any patience for.
And then Valeria squeezed my hand and we hyper-focused on it, on the sensation of touch, the callous on her fingers and palm from hard work and the world seemed to recede back from the red haze I didn't realize I had ventured into. Valeria paused, and then seemed to relax as she explained to me in a patient, gentle tone some part of me recalled she had used when encouraging a rather, onery wagon mule.
"You can trust me to be your friend, Victor. You can trust me to always have your back, to never let you down. But you cannot trust me to not watch you run into danger alone, nor can you trust me to let you leap into the unknown without someone else, if only for company. That is why I'm here."
I blinked and let out a breath, before I spoke somberly. "You shouldn't have to. I can take care of myself." Valeria smiled absently and leaned in before I could stop her.
Kissing my cheek, she smelled like wildflower and the teenage part of me felt our heart skip a beat. She smiled a little kindlier as she spoke.
"Silly boy. You can, it doesn't mean you should."
And she turned and began walking again. After a moment's hesitation, I followed. I could see why Doctor Doom regarded her so highly, the girl had a spine of steel to quench the temper of the doctor, even as a child with only a few words. That said, I slapped down the teenage hormones, did a little mental exercise, focusing on my gauntlet and spoke to myself sternly.
Body age doesn't matter. You're technically a grown man, wait and prepare for more important things before we revisit this can of worms.
In a universe of Marvels, there was oh, so many, many cans of worms to go through first anyway, villains and heroes alike. And for all that he was a villain, Dr. Doom was also a force for good and power whenever he felt like it. Depending on the writer of course, of which I still needed to know more. If I was in the Ultimate's universe as my name indicated, well I was screwed. MCU? Well, that was a bit more workable, not to mention the fact I could enjoy a more modern lifestyle. Standard Marvel was somewhere in the sixties I think, I wasn't entirely sure but as I said, I'd find out eventually.
First things first though, knowledge was power. We just had to know where to look.
We came not to a village reduced, but in the stages of being abducted. This was good for a number of reasons, foremost being that looting and utilizing any informational venues such as personal computers and the like would be easy. I would have the information I wanted, and we'd also be able to see the soldiers in action, with more information to deliver to my parents when we left. All we had to do was stay quiet and not involve ourselves.
Easier said than done, judging by the silent, quivering ball of fury by my side. If I wasn't holding her back, I do think Valeria would have rushed out and attacked with all the fury her little body contained. More so, seeing how they threw out what looked like families crying out onto the road and she looked at me.
"What?" I asked shortly and she scowled, half angry, half entreating. "Do something! Please!"
"What am I supposed to do?!" I hissed out, feeling helpless and not liking a single moment of it. Did she think I wasn't affected by what I saw? That I wouldn't wish to do anything more, but fire bolt the lot of them?! If wishes were fishes, I'd be Namor and I looked back at the scene, just as incensed.
Doors were being bashed in by the soldiers, who looked like any other tin-plated dictators' lackey as they dragged out civilians. Families. Children, like us. Those who fought back were either beaten with the butt of their rifles or threatened, the miasma of terror rising and seeing it before me, I almost succumbed. The more practical part of me saw we were outnumbered, outgunned and would be shot down in a blaze of glory if we did the wrong thing.
And then I saw the following. Two other Romani thrown out of their home, as a scrambling mother tried to stop them. They were children, around my physical age more or less and looked to be brother and sister. The brother had a gunshot wound through his leg, his sister was screaming and I sensed something.
I frowned, slipped on my glasses and spent an expenditure of energy rather than wait the ten minutes as I read the aura of the girl.
She was radiating magic like the sun, a crimson aura that was almost blinding and I realized what she was. Sorcerer, latent anyway-there was no mistaking that innate power, like a reactor core deep within her spirit. But she had no power to use it, as she blocked her brothers body with her own and her mother came rushing forward to help.
The soldier turned to face her, and I knew what was going to happen.
I was running towards them, gauntlet glowing as I kept silent till I was close enough. I jumped on the soldiers back, hand clasping over his mouth to muffle his screams as I channeled a firebolt directly through his mouth and into the back of his throat. As he fell on me, the scent of charred flesh, sickeningly sweet filled my senses as I realized he was just dead weight.
The other soldier was down, and I glanced to the side, blinking away tears as I saw Valeria stare at her hand, a bloody screwdriver from my toolkit in it as she swayed and collapsed on her ass. The soldier in question I glanced once, before shuddering as I looked away.
In that moment, the woman came towards us, looking us over before she grabbed a gun and the ammunition before gesturing all of us together. Before we did so, I grabbed the radio and adjusted it, putting it on silent to better monitor without giving ourselves away as I hooked it onto my shirt. Whatever terror she had been feeling for her children, it was washed away for the here and now. She had to her mind, four children to care for now and she had to put on a front.
I knew this, because I was just a few steps behind as she touched my shoulder as well as Valeria's, both of us looking at her as she said fervently. Her gaze was soft, her hand moving for a handkerchief as she wiped my face and Valeria's in turn.
"Thank you. You saved myself and my family. Are you from the caravan?"
I nodded, glancing at the sorcerer who was supporting her brother and immediately Valeria, realizing he was wounded moved to check it, before glancing at me. "Tools, now."
I tossed her my toolkit, and as she had him lie down, I turned my attention to the woman, head held high as I spoke.
"Yes. I'm Victor. That's my friend, Valeria. We had heard about the abductions, but didn't think it was this bad."
She nodded, once before speaking softly. "That was very brave of you both, to help me and my children. Rest assured; your secret is safe with me."
I blinked in confusion, and she smiled, absently with a hint of old sorrow as she spoke. "I know what you are. My children are the same."
I paused and slowly turned to look at the children. I felt trepidation, an odd feeling in my stomach as the girl nodded to me and spoke. "Wanda."
The boy whimpered, nearly biting through the leather toolkit I had given Valeria as she extracted a slug as she spoke swiftly.
"Victor, I need you. Clean and seal."
I moved forward, and after a prestidigitation I used my last spell slot to cast Cure Wounds, a light flickering from my gauntlet as flesh regenerated and sealed, to the boys astonishment. As he looked at me, he removed the leather and winced at the deep teeth marks as he spoke shyly.
"... I can fix that?"
"Don't worry about it." I said absently, as I looked at the future Quicksilver and felt all my preconceptions shatter into so much dust.
Ok.
Rewind.
We headed back to the caravan with Mrs. Maximoff, who told us to call her 'Aunty Magda.' The entire time we did so, I kept an ear on the radio and the subsequent traffic but beyond that I really didn't know what to think.
According to MCU canon, the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were living in a suburban city. Not some rural village in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, nor did they ever encounter anything like this before. At least, not to my knowledge. Second, was the name- Magda was familiar to me for some reason, but try as I might, I couldn't quite place my finger on it as to where I heard it before. Whether it was important or she was some kind of Uncle Ben where her death spurs on so and so, I did not know.
I was beginning to realize I didn't know a lot of things and it only made me more frustrated.
At the least, I was sure that we weren't followed. The radio traffic revealed that much, the search for us ongoing around the village but by then, we were far away.
And coming to our caravan, Valeria suddenly stopped and I blinked, looking up only to pale. Ours was a caravan in full swing, despite the late hour. Lights were lit, people were being organized and what few weapons we had were being distributed, guns loaded up as my father and Uncle Boris seemed to be organizing it.
And then they saw us, and it was time to face the music.
Valeria ran to Uncle Boris and cried, hugging him as whatever words he had died in his throat, the caravan rushing to make sure she was alright. I would not be so lucky as I saw my father approach, pale and angry. I had never seen him lose his temper before as he grabbed my shoulders roughly and looked me over before hugging me tightly.
"Stupid boy." He said hoarsely.
I found myself hugging him back, as his eyes flickered over Magda, Wanda and Pietro before he pulled back and spoke.
"We were all worried sick! I was just about ready to ignore your mothers words and get us all to the village."
"How did-" I said before he snorted. "You are our son. You would not stay back, if there were those in need of help." I admit, I felt an odd blush at this statement before I suddenly realized and looked around.
"Where's mother?" I was worried at her rage, but I'd take it after all that happened and father looked worried as he spoke. "She went to the village ahead, to scout with others."
My blood ran cold.
I felt faint, and my hand absently turned up the volume on the radio I had taken. Immediately, words came through-screams and cries, the sound of gunfire as desperate, terrified men cried out.
"-Witch! We need backup-!"
Cynthia Von Doom dies in a village, attacked by those she saved as a witch.
Those were the broad strokes of it, and a situation much like it was happening before my eyes.
And it was my fault.
I ignored all else, I turned to the one person who could help me and yelled. "YOU OWE ME! GET ME BACK TO THE VILLAGE, NOW!"
Pietro looked startled and then nodded, resolved as he suddenly blurred and was behind me. Father and the rest jerked back, startled as Valeria began to run towards me.
Too late. Pietro spoke with a sardonic smile.
"Hold on."
And in a rapid blur, we were gone. Valeria and my fathers voice crying after me to stop as dark laughter, wicked and gleeful echoed in my ears.
I defy you Mephisto.
You will not take my mother.
You will not! Award ReplyReport440The Last Hunter27/6/2023Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Campaign Cold Open View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him30/9/2023Add bookmark#24Hellfire exploded in the dark as the soldiers of the baron tried to fight back.
On the radio, one of them desperately cried out. "Veštica! Veštica-!"
And from the dark, streaks of fire burned and scorched, six of them impacting and burning away his comrades through the chest. The scent of burned meat filled the air, his eyes were horrified as he looked upon the result of one of them. His friend was dead before he hit the ground, the deep hole in his chest and out the back smelling disgustingly toothsome as he crumbled to a heap.
His hands were shaking, he reached out for his rifle and cursed, as the damned thing jammed. In the dark, he could hear the monster walking, as casual as if she was taking an enthusiastic stroll. Cursing god and his superiors, he whipped out his pistol, pointing in the dark as he fired.
Once, twice. He could see her before him, saw the bullet hitting her body but if she had any kind of effect from it, she certainly didn't show it.
All too soon, the gun clicked as it was empty and he struggled to load it again.
He froze.
The monster was before him, perilously beautiful in the flickering light of hellfire as he looked on to his horror at the results of his shots. The flesh that he had hit was disgusting, just a coating over her which took the blows as her hand reached down and stroked his cheek. His voice choked out, the final words as he defied her, in this at least if nothing else.
"Monster."
Her gaze was almost sympathetic as she spoke. "I know you are."
And her hand suddenly burned, acid melting through flesh and bone as he screamed and perished, Cynthia looking at her fingers as she flicked off the gore. From the death of the fallen soldier, the Dark Blessing of her patron absorbed his energies, repaired the harm to her protection as she said sadly.
"We are in good company then."
The ground rumbled. Her eyes flicked up, staring at the end of a street as a tank rumbled, its lights flashing as it focused on her direction.
By then, there was just another soldier to all appearances, sobbing in relief as he raised his hands.
"She killed them all! She killed them all! Please, take me with you!"
The soldiers stared at the horror show, jaws open in shock. It was a charnel house, with quite a few buildings burning, resisting attempts to put them out with water. And every soldier as well was dead, laying on the streets as the survivor sobbed and the commander snapped.
"Get this man back to camp! We'll flush this witch out!"
And behind the Mask of skin she wore, Cynthia allowed herself a smile as she vowed internally.
Hang on my son.
Mother is coming.
I heard a tank rumble in the distance as we came to a stop at the edges of the town. Much changed since our little hike, as I looked on in awe and slipped on my arcane detection lens.
Necrotic energies were rife within the flames, resisting water as other soldiers documented and collected the remains of their fallen, many of them dead by effects I recognized firsthand via the tabletop.
Scorching Rays. Primal Savagery. Eldritch Blast and Fireball. My mother was a very powerful Warlock it seemed, and for the first time, she had taken up her tools for my life. Guilt flowed through me, acute and hateful as I moved to sneak closer before waving a hand in dismissal.
"You may leave. Our debt is settled."
Peitro paused, considering to himself whether or not to follow up before he finally spoke. "I'll get your family. What do you want me to say?"
"Come prepared to kill." I said flatly, my gauntlet clenching. I would defy canon. I would stop this from happening, save my mother and we would ALL leave this land together. What I had started, would be fixed by my hand and taking a deep breath, I entered the town.
It would be far more difficult to sneak in this time. Every soldier was on high alert, every one of them terrified of the dark and what laid within. If I had to find my mother, I had to do so via the only way I could.
I smeared my face with mud, something in me disdainful at the need, but it was for the sake of my mother. I would do far worse for her, as I ensured I looked filthy and staggered out on the road as I cried out pitifully.
"Help me... Monster...."
The soldiers turned their guns to me, eyes wide and terrified before one of them stopped him.
"Its just a kid! Hey, kid!" He gestured and I rushed over, looking in horror as he spoke. "How did you survive?"
I sniffed, looking at them as I tried my best to put on the best performance of my life. "My parents... They saved me. Pushed me out of my home." I pointed towards a burning building, and they winced before one spoke low.
"He's a witness. We'll get his words and deal with him after."
They looked at me and one spoke. "You're safe now. Come on." He lifted me, calling out in his walkie-talkie.
"We need a pickup. We found a survivor!" Static came back, the words distorted as one of the soldiers cursed.
"Damned signals... Why is it acting up now?"
With tear streaks down my face, I envisioned tearing his throat out with my gauntlet and sniffed, content to bide my time as they tried to get through their technical difficulties.
All according to plan.
Of course, the actual camp as we drove was certainly not anything I imagined. The place was built on the ruins of an old prison camp, somewhere around the first world war if some of the faded signs on the walls was any indication. Soldiers were everywhere, bearing the emblem of the Baron but if anything, they seemed like a minority.
Outnumbering them were far more dangerous creatures, as I stared up in awe into the stony features of two, reptilian looking creatures with wings as the gargoyles roared and went back to lookout.
One of the major buildings had been repurposed, odd lights flashing within, as odd screams echoed now and then, the soldiers flinching as one began crossing himself.
Upon a row of tents, a familiar emblem would be seen, one that had my fist clench as the symbol of a skull with tentacles, grasping and greedy loomed above all and I held in my reaction.
Something was very wrong, and not just with Hydra or... Well, all of this.
My eyes widened, as I saw some of the villagers herded into pens, shocked into compliance by small, terrifying green creatures. Squat and hateful, dressed in the garb of crude warriors and armed with cattle prods.
This was not a simple Hydra camp.
And then suddenly, a sharp voice called out. "Soldiers." They turned, suddenly at attention in the face of a glowering officer. He nodded at me and scowled.
"I'll be taking the boy for interrogation."
"Why were we not informed?" One of them asked, the officer scowling deeper as he spoke. "Are you questioning your superior officer? Perhaps you require, some loving attention from our mistress? Hand over the boy, or perhaps we'll feed you both to the goblins and get some enjoyment out of it."
He flinched and nodded. "Yes sir."
The officer grabbed my arm, dragged me off to a building... And then around a corner, as I prepared my gauntlet and froze, at the sudden change of voice from the man.
"When we get home, you are grounded for life young man."
My eyes widened. The officer smiled and his form melted away like mist, revealing my horribly relieved mother as she hugged me tightly. I hugged back, trying to hide my tears before pulling back as she spoke.
"Stupid boy! What were you doing here?!"
"I came to save you." I said swiftly and she snorted. "Victor Van Damne, you are a thousand years too early for that. But the gesture is sweet." Her brow furrowed as she added. "Unfortunately, the situation is complicated."
"Our people?" I said, curious and she grimaced before shaking her head. Silence fell, as she considered quietly before finally sighing out.
"Victor... I have something to share, about myself. I am not of this world. Not originally. I hail from another land entirely, another plane. My tribe had a gift you see." As she spoke, the story became horribly familiar as she continued.
"Through the mists, we could walk the paths between worlds as a man might stride to his local grocery store. No place was bereft of our presence, nor our touch. But this gift came with a price. In return, we were to serve as the eyes and ears of another. An evil, who corrupts all he touches. I came here to escape him, but he found me... And drew me. my then lover and two others into his dark domain."
She sighed out.
"I had hoped we'd find one of my allies from that time, in the village here. But he has long since left. And gods knows where Logan has swept off to."
"How did you survive?" I asked and she smiled, wanly as she hugged me close. "I had good companions... And a good man, who died when he shouldn't have. His corpse lies in that dark land now, the sun in his bed where he sleeps, ensuring the monster never returns. I returned to this world, then decided I'd retire... The power I had called upon, I put the trappings away. I tried to live... And I met your father."
She wiped her face as she added.
"The rest, is history. But not as much as I'd hoped."
She scowled, gesturing out to the camp. "Something beyond, from the worlds I know is attempting to break in. Through Hydra and the stupid Baron, they have broken thin walls into the world, and I cannot let this happen. So here is what is going to happen." She knelt and placed her hands on my shoulder.
"You, are going to leave. Head out, hide. I am going to stay long enough to sabotage this place, and then we leave together. I promise."
"I can help-"
"No!" She almost raised her voice and arrested herself, as she breathed deep and spoke, much quieter. "... You are not ready."
Taking a deep breath, she clapped my shoulder and pointed to the wall by her.
"There is a hole, behind the bushes. Small enough for you. Get out, as quickly as you can. I'll be back, I promise!"
She moved off, pausing long enough to speak as she looked at me, as if burning my features into her memory.
"I love you Victor. My sweet boy."
"Mother-!" I cried out, but she was already gone, shifted via a Mask of Many Faces into a soldier as she vanished into the mess.
The implications she had given were all immense, granted. That niggling feeling of wrongness had a foundation, but.... As I stared, looking back between the exit and the direction my mother had left... I couldn't.
And then a voice cried out behind me. "Well! Lookit this?"
I turned my head, eyes wide as a goblin in his uniform stood there, chuckling as he gestured to me. "Here boy. C'mon. I ain't gonna hurt you." He laughed at my expression, mistaking it for fear. My silence, for dread.
As he came close, I finally spoke. "Tha... That...."
"A-tha, a-tha, what?" He mocked, laughing as I suddenly spoke more clearly.
"That armor looks my size."
I charged. He brought his cattle prod around, trying to shock me and I slapped it out of the way.
I shoved my gauntlet down his jaw and snarled as I activated my fire bolt till he stopped twitching. "Sorry mother." I muttered as I started the grisly work, stripping it down.
"But I can't leave you alone, not if you're going to die."
Cynthia moved into the main building, marching as if she was meant to be there. HYDRA mooks came to attention, as she made a beeline for where the magic felt strongest and soon came to a new walkway, pausing briefly as she stared out at creation beyond the railing.
Tesla coils crackled, the scent of ozone in the air. All around an odd mixture of heavy technology and arcane arts, many of which she recognized as a glance... Particularly the address.
"So, they are reaching into Barovia." She sneered, glancing about till she saw an office window, overlooking the project on high. That would be where she could get answers, and she headed there immediately.
Up to the top, she paused and quietly pushed open the door. Inside, was a most humdrum looking man. Another HYDRA operative, clad in a white laboratory coat as he scribbled paperwork before glancing up.
"I don't recognize you. What division are you with?"
Cynthia slid the bolt into the door, locking it and the man raised an eyebrow.
"Ah. Americans? SHIELD, perhaps? Or are you one of those putrid mystics from the mountains?"
Cynthia's lip curled, and she made a gesture she could do in her sleep at this point, the laughter of her patron echoing as hellfire flickered about the Eldritch Blast she readied, pointing at his face as she let her disguise drop.
Recognition filled the face of the man, as he let out a happy sigh.
"Ah. Vistani. Truly, have our prayers been answered."
"When I feed you to my patron and bring this place crashing down around the ears of your corpse, we will see if you are of the same mind." Cynthia replied hotly. The man laughed aloud, grinning at her as he sighed out.
"Same old Cynthia. Far older, more wrinkles about the eyes. But still, as savage as before. It is good to SeE YoU."
His voice warped and her eyes grew wide, horrified as her eldritch blast flickered out.
"No... No, we killed you. You're dead."
"You killed a monster." Said the creature rising up, his shadow looming into a dark representation of a familiar beast. An old foe, as two voices seemed to overlap. One being the Hydra superior... And the other, the voice of a younger, husky female who seemed on the cusp of dark laughter as the shadow distorted, red eyes flickering and glowing as it puppeted the body.
"But the blood of Von Zarovich shall endure, so long as the land does."
"It didn't help your grandfather. It will not help you." Cynthia declared as she cried out.
"LYSSA!"
"Oh, Cynthia. Dear, sweet girl." Cooed the monster. Her eyes flashed, full of amusement despite the distance, despite the barriers between them.
"It already has."
And then the machines exploded into motion, lightning crackling as it began to activate. Lyssa laughed, eyes bright as she cried out.
"Through Hydra's resources and a whisper in the ears of weaker men! I shall open a portal, I shall invade a new world. With the loss of its Dark Lord, this prison is finally weak enough to allow my escape and it is all, thanks to you. And you, without a single friend left at your side."
The communication radio screeched from feedback, static echoing as they turned to look. Cynthia stared, as one of the pens on the desk began to rattle, along with the paper clips and slowly, began to smile.
"I would not be so sure."
The skies burst into light, as if by an angry god.
Radios screamed. Ancient gates which had endured decades creaked and shuddered, almost torn from their hinges as I felt my gauntlet shudder, eager to join and I pinned it down.
Above, from the skies descended a VERY familiar figure to me.
Electricity crackled around him like an orb. Armor, of a color so dark as to be almost black encased his form. A cape of dark purple flapped over his shoulders, upon his head was a helmet infamous for all who knew his name.
Not a word was spoken. Even the monsters were silent, as he looked back and forth before he spoke and in that silence, were four, little words.
"Where, are my children?" Magneto said in a voice filled with fury.
And around that point, all Hell broke loose as the building roof exploded outwards, as a crackling stream of blue energies pierced the skies.
Hydra opened fire.Last edited: 17/2/2024 Award ReplyReport399The Last Hunter30/9/2023Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Origin Story New View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him2/10/2023Add bookmark#33The air lit up with the roar of guns, the scream of ray weapons and even the occasional flung projectile towards the lone man drawing their fire.
It may as well had been light rain as far as Magneto was concerned. I watched from my hiding place, in awe as the mutant without lifting a finger drew scrap metal towards him, rotating them in a shield that absorbed most of the blows as he simply waited, eyes glowing in the shadow of his helmet before he sneered.
"I know what you are."
One of the vehicles flipped over, flying to slam into a gargoyle that tried to attack from a seeming blind spot, the sound of crunching stone and a fleshier pulping sound echoing as the soldiers screamed in fear, renewing their attacks before with a click, the ammo ran dry. One enterprising soldier tried to run and the metal gates slammed before his eyes, the bolts sliding in and then twisting, bending in place to lock them in. Magneto continued, floating in the midst of his new ammunition, making a fist as the random slugs and other bits began to crush against each other, forming ball bearings as he continued.
"Cut one head, another takes its place? A bold claim for such a toothless organization."
The ball bearings flew, more of the soldiers fell and as they tried to run, I noticed the prison areas... Not a single bullet flew towards the pens, as Magneto spared it a glance and continued, contempt within that imperious voice.
"This is true power. Had I awakened to it in the early years, I would have ended the war. My boot atop your Fuhers corpse, and Berlin purged in the same flames you had done to us, in your pitiful attempts to suppress the true master race. And yet, I tried to quit."
A car roared to life. Magneto glanced at it, at its desperate charge for the gate and made a gesture.
The entire thing floated, then began to crush itself into a ball as he continued, untouched as the radios continued to scream as if in honor of the man who effortlessly slaughtered the people here like ants underfoot.
"I took a wife. I had children. And of course, because of your pitiful choices, you would come to the very place I had sought to hide. Now. I will not ask again."
He made a fist and one of the officers he had spared came flying towards him. Wrapped in sheet metal, like a cocoon with his face pale and terrified as Magneto floated him to eye level.
"Where are my children, nazi?"
"They're safe!" I spoke up before I realized, rushing out into the open as Magneto glanced my way and for the first time, seemed utterly confused.
Up close, I could get his measure he could likewise for me. He was young or looked young enough, which puzzled me. There was certainly a touch of Fassbender about him, though the jaw was more pronounced, and his eyebrows were white. His eyes were glowing, imposing from a distance but up close and befuddled, lost that certain spark.
We ignored the Nazi as we looked at each other, before he finally spoke with amusement. "A little young for Hydra, aren't you boy?"
"I'm not. I came to save my mother." I said swiftly as I added. "Miss Magda right? And Wanda and P-"
"You do know them." Magneto looked thoughtful, staring at my features intently as he let the Nazi drop with a thud on the ground, descending to stand before me as he asked.
"What is your name, child?"
I stood straighter, my chin tilted upward as I looked him in the eye. "My name is Victor Van Damne. My mother is Cynthia Van-"
"Cynthia?!" Magneto reared back, eyes wide with shock and I blinked in turn, before something mother said earlier waved to me. I pointed at him and choked.
"You're the old friend mother said lived here?!"
"A long story, involving a monster and the shrouded mist of another world." Magneto said, looking at me with new eyes. "Where is she?"
And then the prison building roof exploded outward as another blue beam crackled and pierced the skies. Magneto let out a sigh.
"Ah, never mind."
And he flew out to deal with it. I glanced around and scowled... In the end, I wasn't needed, was I? I was just a boy after all. Still young, still growing into my power. What could I do or compare, against the powerful warlock that was mother or the master of magnetism that was Magneto? That would be the logical part after all.
A deeper, more primal part of me rejected it utterly.
No.
So what if they were powerful? So what if they were mountains, with howling winds and sheer drops? I would traverse those mountains, I would cross those peaks and then cry out 'give me more!' This body, this life was not just my own to bear, to live and fade away.
So, with renewed grit, I turned and rushed for the prison pens.
Behind me, the man encased in the metal sheets growled and struggled to get out...
"You've grown tired, Cynthia darling!" Cackled the meat puppet as it blasted off another fireball, no longer caring for collateral damage beyond the machine as it worked. The room was humid, the portal crackling as flickers of various places were seen, from a dense jungle to an oriental looking city, populated by the dead and then snapping back to an image of a castle shrouded in fog.
"Then again, you Warlocks always were all blast and no substance! You in particular. You were never a fighter, like the clawed barbarian or your sorcerer friend!"
"God, she talks too much." Cynthia muttered, before scowling as a voice intruded, sinister and seductive and as clear as if the speaker was right next to her.
"She's right you know. You could use a little help, my favorite servant."
"I'd rather not, Mephisto." Cynthia said tersely as she added. "I'll stop her, under my own abilities."
"Will you have a choice, I wonder?" He said idly. As Cynthia sent out eldritch blasts, screaming with the voices of the damned in their wake, he continued.
"Even with the mutants help, you know as well as I do that it's not enough to stop her here. And if you destroy the machine now in flux, who knows what will happen? Will you see the Mists unleashed upon this plane? Will you see the God-Brain unleashed in America? Or perhaps Dementlieu in the heart of Paris? I'm certain Strahd would be much pleased with a new world to conquer, to say nothing of his fellow inmates."
Cynthia scowled.
She swore under her breath, as a massive table came flying her way and then flinched as raw metal slammed down in the form of a wall, Magneto landing next to her as she chuckled in relief.
"Erik."
"Cynthia." He said politely, glancing through a slit made in the impromptu shield. "Hmm. Lyssa. We should have staked her when we had the chance. Why is the machine not blown up?"
"Because I'm trying my best not to bring about a dimensional rupture in space and time." She said tersely. "It's been a rough day. Can you buy me time to examine it?"
Magneto chuckled. "Who do you think you're talking to? By the by, I met your son. Why didn't I hear of his birth?"
"Its not like you had a number I could call." She snapped and Magneto laughed, layering more metal over the shield wall before he spoke.
"It's good to see you m'dear. Now if you'll excuse me, I have two old enemies to settle scores with."
And like that, Cynthia fell into old habits as she rushed over to the machine. Shadowy tendrils stabbed out, flew like projectiles and were foiled as Magneto floated in the way and held his fist out towards her.
"Your opponent is me. And unlike Cynthia, I don't feel so inclined to be merciful."
And with a howling scream, the shadowy monster came down upon the master of magnetism.
I broke another lock. More people came running out, terrified and unsure. As I worked, I heard a voice cry out.
"Is that Cynthia's boy?"
A sharp sense of relief filled me as I found our people, at least three as I ran to help them before I asked. "Where is everyone else? What are they doing with these people?"
He grimaced, glancing to the side as he spoke. "There's a pit in the building... Leading to Hell itself, they say. They toss folks through, and a monster speaks on the other side. I think tonight, its gates are flung wide open."
"Mother's trying to stop it." I said, before adding. "We can at least-"
"LOOK OUT BOY!"
One of the prisoners cried out and leaped in the way, as I turned in shock. Before my eyes, the prisoner was torn into two pieces, blood and gore splattering the ground in a visceral display.
Standing in place, snarling was a werewolf in the torn garb of a Hydra officer as he looked at me.
"You. You're the one! Your death will-"
Someone threw a rock at him, followed by another. The prisoners were rioting, crying out.
"Leave him alone! He's just a boy!"
"I'll rip apart every one of you!" Howled the officer and I cried out.
"THE CATTLE PRODS!"
The werewolf snarled, and would be shocked back. His claws raked and created an empty space, preventing the mob from closing ranks... But there were too many of us. And we were not so toothless either as I held up my gauntlet, unleashed fire bolt after fire bolt.
As the wolf snarled, I laughed and his gaze snapped my direction as I taunted. "This is the power of humanity! Something creatures like you lost, because it was simpler to go crawling on all fours again rather than ascend to something better. You're a beast in name and spirit and against humans, what hope could you have had?"
It made him furious, and he leaped at me.
A lasso yanked him back around his neck, as others began doing the same. Arms, held in place by a LOT of people as we all overpowered him, forcing their captor to stay in place no matter what he did.
I blasted him in the heart and cried out.
"NOW! PULL!"
Eighty people, eighty prisoners at the least were in that camp.
At least twenty each were on each rope.
The werewolf died, torn asunder as they cheered, and I took in a shuddering breath. That could have gone much worst, before I turned and ran for the building.
They can handle it from here.
Right now, I had more important things to help with.
"Erik, you're slipping." Cynthia said tersely as Magneto, annoyed snarled out. "Would you like to switch places then? No matter what I do, she still won't die!"
The nazi flesh puppet had long since been smashed. What was left was a monstrous shadow, one that seemed to ignore most of his conventional attacks. The shadow in question grew, far bigger now than it was ten minutes ago and Erik felt a shade of trepidation as the thing crooned aloud, the pulsating outlines of a heart seen in the body now.
"I cannot die...Barovia empowers me through the hole in reality, and you can't destroy the machine, can you?"
Erik grimaced. "Cynthia, if you have anything now is the time to do it." He paused and glanced her way, and blinked at how she seemed thoughtfully terrified in her examination. ".... Cynthia?"
Lyssa laughed, eyes wide and a jagged smile on her monstrous shadow visible now as she cackled.
"You understand now! What you must do! But you will not, and in your vanities, I shall have my victory. It is too late!" With a laugh, she dove for Cynthia who swore, trying to get out of the way. Magneto flung up metal, but it was like trying to stab water as she flowed around them, seemingly untouched as her claws raked Cynthia's arm-
A small mote of flame flew and impacted her forehead, Lyssa blinking as she slowly turned to stare.
Standing in the doorway was a boy. Dressed in ill-fitting goblin armor, a strange gauntlet on his fist as he pointed it towards her. Cynthia's face was reduced to a deadly, pale pallor and Erik blinked.
Lyssa looked at Cynthia, back to the boy and back to Cynthia before she began to chuckle.
"He has your blood it seems. I think I want to see it for myself."
Magneto's eyes glowed bright, the building shuddering as he prepared to unleash something more dangerous.
Cynthia cried out aloud.
"MASTER, HELP ME!"
"NO!" The cry from the boy was heart-wrenching as he began to run for her. Cynthia smiled, fiery chains flying out from her body, wrapping around the shadow as it screamed in pain, struggling to escape before stabbing its captor.
The shadowy spikes tore through flesh, Cynthia only smiling and not even looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, who was running her way before she kicked off.
And flew into the portal, dragging the shadow with her.
Lyssa screamed, clawing impotently and for a moment, there was a frozen moment, a flicker of various scenes and landscapes, from a war-torn countryside to a dark pine forest before it winked out and was dispelled.
Magneto immediately crushed the machine, smashing it from this side as he panted out and paused, looking at the boy.
Even before he had stopped, he was struggling to tear away at the machine, to rip off the rubble as if the mere act would help him get to his mother before he stopped him.
His hands were cut and bloody, uncaring as he threw Erik a rather chilling look, for such a young boy before he sobbed and sunk to his knees.
Magneto sighed and knelt, his hand on his shoulder as he spoke gently.
"It's alright son. Let it all out."
And with that, the dam broke as the boy let out a truly, heart-rending wail as he mourned his mother's loss.
My father was dead.
I had missed quite a bit it seemed, all of the events jumbled together and normally interesting, but for the fact I had lost both my parents in the same night.
The little light show had attracted more of the Baron's men and my clan had fought them, before foreigners came from the skies. American, at the least-S.H.I.E.L.D. almost certainly, now with an excuse to come down hard and wouldn't you know it, claim everything left behind and help install a new ruler for this land.
Too little, too late. If they had acted sooner and they DID have the capacity to do so, I would have still had my parents. They shouldn't have needed a boy to do their work, to fight the good fight. Any sightings of Magneto, flying off would be refuted by all the prisoner eyewitnesses, and I myself would be finding myself more and more inclined to isolation.
And so, atop a hill on a day that had no right to be as beautiful as it was now, my brooding would be interrupted by Valeria as she spoke quietly.
"Its my fault Uncle died, Victor."
I glanced at her, tired and numb as she looked sorrowful, looking down as she spoke. "...The Baron's men were shooting, he fell... I tried to save him, but I was too unskilled. If I was as smart, if I had your skills, he... I'm sorry."
I stared and as she turned to leave, my voice spoke hoarsely, arresting her in place.
"It's not your fault. I... I can't blame anyone but myself. If I didn't leave, mother would not have been near that place. Nor would father. We could have been over the border by now and that place would have been dealt with by the Americans."
"No... Victor, no." Valeria rushed forward, hands cupping my face as I realized I was crying again, as I spoke on, my voice and tone dull as I went over the scenario I had played constantly in my head. "I thought I was smart. I thought I was clever, but in the end it ended with their deaths-"
"No." She said firmly, interrupting as she added. "Wanda, Aunty Magda and Pietro are all safe because you went there. Our people were rescued. Perhaps the American's could have done more, but these are our problems, our struggles. Latveria belongs to its people, and we are stronger for it. Victor... Please."
Her hand smoothed my hair, I let it happen as I just looked at her as she sighed out, eyes looking into my own.
"Its not your fault." She paused... Let go, and added quietly. "... Father wanted me to tell you dinner is soon. Do you want me to stay, or-?" I shook my head.
"No, not now... Valeria?" She paused, partway down the hill as she glanced at me and I hesitated before speaking. "Thank you."
She smiled and turned and headed back down. I watched her go, before taking a deep breath. She was right... It wasn't my fault. I couldn't believe it took so long to get that, lost in my mourning state and befuddled by events. It wasn't my fault that mother was lost, that my father died in a clash that should not have happened.
It was S.H.I.E.L.D's.
They had the power. They had the skills, the manpower. Was I to believe that base they were operating was out from under their gaze? That they weren't keeping tabs on Magneto and his retirement village? Why didn't they lift a finger when the Baron's men were taking my people? My kin? Why did it have to be children and my mother, fighting for our lives when they were so much more suited?!
Just the thought of it incited my rage as I rose up and spoke aloud, in a low tone that grew louder, more guttural as I voiced my anger for the first time.
"They killed my mother. And murdered my father. They will pay."
I raised my voice to the heavens, crying aloud as I made a promise on that hill.
"ALL OF MANKIND WILL PAY!"