who ; Erik and Pietro what ; Lehnsherr family reunion/kidnapping/interrogation where ; Garden Zone 15 when ; sometime after Black Widow's arrival, and then during this. warning(s); violence, lehnsherrs being lehnsherrs
The wonderful thing about having the metabolism of someone whose heart beat twenty-eight times a second was that unconsciousness didn't last.
It was also the awful thing about it.
Because when Pietro jerked awake, he immediately wished he hadn't. He couldn't move, and that was the first thing to incite real panic, more than just waking up in a strange place. He'd done that enough for it to come as no surprise. But being immobilized-
No.
He tried to keep his breathing shallow. To assess the situation. His first thought was Romanov. It would be so like that irredeemable whore to mastermind something like this-
His second, once he realized the fact that he was bound with metal, to a metal chair--
His blood suddenly had all the makings of ice water in his veins.
"Magneto."
The word was hoarse, choked, but it fell just short of being genuinely terrified. Wanda wasn't here. She wasn't here and that made her safe and if Magneto-if his father had him, that meant that he knew everything and that this was going to be painful but Wanda wasn't here. He could still protect her, in this.
Erik frowned despite himself, a familiar surge of irritation rising. To him it was still a childishly affectionate nickname, something Raven had come up in that too-brief time Before Shaw had introduced them all to death and terror and betrayal. To hear it used as a name, a title, was associating it with all the awful prospects of his future. The name ‘Magneto’ must remind Charles of his paralysis, of Shaw’s death, of losing Raven.
Magneto was someone Erik didn’t know, and had already started to despise. He might as well have called himself after Shaw.
At least it confirmed something. This mutant did know him, enough to accurately single him out from a list of potential captors. The shackles were probably a dead giveaway to anyone who knew what they were looking for, given that they had no locks or seams.
“You don’t sound very surprised.” He kept his voice mild, quelling the urge to snap that he didn’t answer to that name.
He felt his skin crawl at that voice, at its proximity and location in regards to him. He knew, Magneto knew and this was going to end so much worse than with gunshots, and Wanda's hand tight against his wrist.
He hesitated. Of the hundred calculations and projections he could run in his mind about how him meeting his father face-to-face in his mind, none of them had gone like this. Was he trying to keep him off balance?
No.
Even at this age, he doubted that would have been his father's style. Misdirection was a trait for those without power. Those without purpose. Wasn't that what he'd always been taught?
He has to get control of his breathing somehow. Has to keep himself in contro-(his father could simply crush his wrists and ankles-) in control and find a way to escape.
It didn't even enter his mind to consider outside help.
"I don't have the patience for your mind games. What do you want?"
“I believe I just told you. I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them. Simple.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to announce that he was not this person Quicksilver knew, that he wouldn’t tolerate being treated like this second Shaw, but fear was a useful tool, even if he didn’t understand the reasons behind it. Admitting his timeline was admitting his youth and his ignorance, and he’d already seen Logan’s reaction to that.
He didn't need to hear an 'or else' tacked on the end of that statement. He swallowed, flexed his hands, but the metal was too tight on his wrists to give much leeway. They also seemed to move and shift with him, a subtle show of power, no doubt.
He took several deep breaths. He didn't need nearly as much oxygen as most people, but right now he wanted the clarity of thought.
"Askthemthen."
He had a sinking suspicion that he already knew what Magneto wanted.
Erik didn’t have to see to feel the movement of the shackles, and obligingly dropped the magnetism binding the wrist cuffs close to the chair. The cuffs weren’t going anywhere but they were no more than shiny bracelets on their own. Easy to re-secure.
The ankle cuffs he left magnetized. There was a fascinated part of him that wanted to see Quicksilver’s powers under duress, but that part would have to wait until the interrogation was finished. He could spy all he liked later on.
"2006." He wasn't going to take the bait, wasn't going to move. Oh, he understood how interrogation worked. If you started by asking simple, easy questions, by the time the harder ones rolled around the target was already conditioned to reply.
Forty years. He had to swallow hard at that. He’d be an old man, everyone he knew would be forty years older. In forty years, with or without Charles, what would he have become? A new leader of Hellfire? A teacher? A government dog again?
He should have asked Logan for dates, to try and piece together a timeline. Not that Logan was likely to have told him.
“And what is the world like for mutants, in 2006?” Not a simple question with a simple answer, but he’d rather wait on asking directly about SHIELD.
"It'swhatyoumadeit," he spat, anger for a brief moment overriding both his (very innate) sense of self-preservation and the nearly all-encompassing terror of the last few minutes. "The public knows about us. But Magneto is the one who went on national television and told the cattle that they were better for little more than a larder!"
‘I would never be so stupid’ was not the correct response here, even if it was the one on the tip of his tongue.
It took him a moment-- actually several moments, to cycle through responses, dismissing the first twelve that were demands. Why, how, what had he been thinking. Quicksilver likely didn’t know, or wouldn’t care to explain it to a younger version of the same man.
He finally settled for a mostly neutral, “Do you disagree?” Which wasn’t what he wanted to ask at all, but safer than anything else he was currently thinking.
"Whether or not I agree or disagree doesn't matter." And it was true, all things considered. His opinion had never counted for much one way or another in his father's holy crusade. Of course he would set the bombs, of course he would lead the vanguard charge, of course he would listen and obey and never, ever question.
That had been his entire life. For as long as he could remember.
Sometimes, he still regretted the change. Even knowing that Magneto was insane. Even understanding that everything he did was a blight on everything good in the world.
“I think it does.” Calm, he had to remind himself. Asking about his future self and his apparent lunacy was a sign of desperation, and he’d never be able to gauge if Quicksilver was lying if he couldn’t get the mutant talking about his own opinions first.
It was also the awful thing about it.
Because when Pietro jerked awake, he immediately wished he hadn't. He couldn't move, and that was the first thing to incite real panic, more than just waking up in a strange place. He'd done that enough for it to come as no surprise. But being immobilized-
No.
He tried to keep his breathing shallow. To assess the situation. His first thought was Romanov. It would be so like that irredeemable whore to mastermind something like this-
His second, once he realized the fact that he was bound with metal, to a metal chair--
His blood suddenly had all the makings of ice water in his veins.
"Magneto."
The word was hoarse, choked, but it fell just short of being genuinely terrified. Wanda wasn't here. She wasn't here and that made her safe and if Magneto-if his father had him, that meant that he knew everything and that this was going to be painful but Wanda wasn't here. He could still protect her, in this.
He had to.
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Erik frowned despite himself, a familiar surge of irritation rising. To him it was still a childishly affectionate nickname, something Raven had come up in that too-brief time Before Shaw had introduced them all to death and terror and betrayal. To hear it used as a name, a title, was associating it with all the awful prospects of his future. The name ‘Magneto’ must remind Charles of his paralysis, of Shaw’s death, of losing Raven.
Magneto was someone Erik didn’t know, and had already started to despise. He might as well have called himself after Shaw.
At least it confirmed something. This mutant did know him, enough to accurately single him out from a list of potential captors. The shackles were probably a dead giveaway to anyone who knew what they were looking for, given that they had no locks or seams.
“You don’t sound very surprised.” He kept his voice mild, quelling the urge to snap that he didn’t answer to that name.
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"I'm sorry, should I be?"
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“I have some questions for you, Quicksilver. That’s what you call yourself, isn’t it?” Because he’d bet his life that “Peter Maximoff” was an alias.
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No.
Even at this age, he doubted that would have been his father's style. Misdirection was a trait for those without power. Those without purpose. Wasn't that what he'd always been taught?
He has to get control of his breathing somehow. Has to keep himself in contro-(his father could simply crush his wrists and ankles-) in control and find a way to escape.
It didn't even enter his mind to consider outside help.
"I don't have the patience for your mind games. What do you want?"
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It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to announce that he was not this person Quicksilver knew, that he wouldn’t tolerate being treated like this second Shaw, but fear was a useful tool, even if he didn’t understand the reasons behind it. Admitting his timeline was admitting his youth and his ignorance, and he’d already seen Logan’s reaction to that.
So for now, mind games.
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He took several deep breaths. He didn't need nearly as much oxygen as most people, but right now he wanted the clarity of thought.
"Askthemthen."
He had a sinking suspicion that he already knew what Magneto wanted.
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The ankle cuffs he left magnetized. There was a fascinated part of him that wanted to see Quicksilver’s powers under duress, but that part would have to wait until the interrogation was finished. He could spy all he liked later on.
“What year is it, in your time?”
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He should have asked Logan for dates, to try and piece together a timeline. Not that Logan was likely to have told him.
“And what is the world like for mutants, in 2006?” Not a simple question with a simple answer, but he’d rather wait on asking directly about SHIELD.
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Rage issues, thy name is...
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“...what?” Completely flat and also incredulous.
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It took him a moment-- actually several moments, to cycle through responses, dismissing the first twelve that were demands. Why, how, what had he been thinking. Quicksilver likely didn’t know, or wouldn’t care to explain it to a younger version of the same man.
He finally settled for a mostly neutral, “Do you disagree?” Which wasn’t what he wanted to ask at all, but safer than anything else he was currently thinking.
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That had been his entire life. For as long as he could remember.
Sometimes, he still regretted the change. Even knowing that Magneto was insane. Even understanding that everything he did was a blight on everything good in the world.
It was always hard to break the cycle.
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“Surely you chose a side.”
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