Memento
Cutscene: Memento
Author
IC Details
Synopsis:

The Brotherhood scatters after the attack on the Triskelion. Pietro thinks on what happened.

IC Date: March 26, 2019
IC Location: ????
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 26 Mar 2019 21:56
Rating & Warnings:
Associated Plots

For being who they are, the Maximoff twins still live in the plainest of places — when they inhabit the physical world at all. For the past many months, they have haunted a rundown tenement in Mutant Town, heavily warded, sharing a space small enough for Pietro to pace it five thousand times in five seconds.

They do not return to it after the Triskelion falls.

There is nothing there they would need to take. This sparseness is by design; it is how they have always lived. They have run away from a place, chased and hated and hounded, with nothing but the clothes on their backs before. This is nothing novel. It is just history repeating.

Wanda says she has seen these outcomes in her hex-fires a thousand times before. Ten thousand equations, all solving in exactly the same way. No matter the universe, they always end up running, one day or another. The multiverse is infinite variables, but some things are constant: like the color of Pietro's eyes, the love he has for her, and the hatred humankind has for those who are different.

They leave Mutant Town entirely. They tell the Brotherhood to do the same. Their presence there will only bring down more fire on the area, and the only hope of survival now is to disperse. To Gotham, to Metropolis, to other cities and beyond.

Scatter: the world is searching, and they want our blood.

Pietro Maximoff has been gripping something, talismanic, in his right hand ever since he sent word for their statement to be broadcast. It was given to him by his father on his eighteenth birthday. He holds onto it, hard, whenever he feels any sort of doubt.

Wanda sleeps nearby. She has slept ever since they left New York. What she did will have her sleep for a week more, at least.

Pietro watches her. Time moves orders of magnitude more slowly for him than a normal man — yet when it comes to watching his twin, his patience is infinite.

The sun is low in the sky before he finally stirs, rising to check the perimeter of their small encampment again. His grip on the thing in his hand finally loosens, and he lifts it to loop it back around his neck. A flash of it is visible before it slips beneath his shirt.

A bullet, slightly flattened, bored through to hang by a chain around his neck. Its cool weight brings back the memory of the day it was given to him.

It was a cold day for June, or perhaps it just seemed that way because of the look in Magneto's eyes. Pietro's father had a way of looking at him without seeing him, staring through his only son as if straining for the sight of something much more important — something far beyond them both.

That day, for once, Magneto's gaze focused directly on him. That direct regard did not make the day warmer, especially given what had happened the previous day. A failed mission. Gunfire. Blood.

"I remember the date," Magneto said presently.

"Yes, father," Pietro answered. It seemed the type of statement that demanded such a response.

"This is my gift to you," Magneto told his son laconically. "It is a reminder."

Thought alone conveyed the bullet to Pietro. It hung suspended in the air before him, waiting to be taken.

"I pulled this from your sister's body," Magneto said, "after the humans shot her for your failure. Wear it, and remember. Or reject it, and forget."

Almost twelve years later, that bullet still swings from his neck with the weight of memory, and Pietro's doubts dissipate to the feel of the metal against his skin.

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