Erik ran a hand through his thinning, white hair and let out a long sigh.
Today had been long, one of the longest, most tiring, useless days of his
life. He was getting too old for this whole Super-Villain thing. If that
was what people thought he was- he didn't know and frankly, he didn't care.
"Gambit," he called, massaging his temples as the smirking Cajun appeared. "Bring me a Whisky."
"Sure t'ing, boss." Gambit swept a lock of hair out of his demonic eyes, still smirking. "Are we talking neat, on the rocks, soda? Malt, single malt, Tennessee, Scotch-"
Erik merely blinked as the mutant before him continued to list all the possibilities for one small glass of Whisky, ticking them off on his long fingers as he went.
"Just make it.." Erik searched for the right word, waving a nonplussed hand when it didn't come to him. "Make it alcoholic, Gambit."
With that, the Cajun winked and strode out of the room. Erik scanned the room with his tired eyes, letting them rest on the.. colossal Colossus who was turning himself to metal and back again repeatedly out of boredom. Under the glare of the lights, he kept reflecting rays and beaming them back at Erik who soon sorted the problem by levitating the metal-man into a filing cabinet where he stuck like a very large fridge magnet.
Pyro, who Erik had decided was actually insane, was content just to flick his lighter on and off, grinning like a madman every time the flame came up.
And then there was Pietro, his own flesh and blood sitting in the corner and turning the pages of a World Atlas with far more interest than was required. In fact.. he seemed to be leering at it. Using his powers of fatherly intuition and the fact that Pietro was sixteen and bombarded with hormones, Erik had a good idea what magazine his son was hiding under the Atlas.
This realisation was not met with a normal, fatherly reaction. One kind of father might have strode across the room and ripped the magazine from the culprit's hand telling him how filthy he was and then secretly sneaked a peek later. Another kind may have laughed, ruffled his hair and said something nauseating like "Attaboy!" But Erik felt absolutely nothing for his son and that was what made him different from other fathers.
He had loved Pietro once, of course- before the boy's mother had died. There was no bitterness in him back in those days. Now he was so full of anger and resentment that there just wasn't any room for his son. He was simply indifferent.
"Whisky, boss, just how you like it," Gambit called as he strutted into the room. "Alcoholic," he added, eyes flashing mischievously.
"Thank you, Gambit," Erik told him, taking the glass and swallowing the amber liquid.
"Can I have some of that whisky, boss?" Pyro asked hopefully. Erik looked from the alcohol in his hand to the lighter in Pyro's and deduced that letting him get his hands on a highly flammable liquid would not be the best of ideas.
"No, no, leave me in peace, all you!" snapped Erik. He found that the drink and terrible day he had just experienced were making him very irritable. A nasty voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was probably down to old age.
Pyro, Colossus and Gambit left in quick succession but Pietro didn't move. He had put down his 'reading-material' now and was staring at his father defiantly.
"You too, Pietro," Erik muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to cope with another of his son's tantrums.
"I hate you!" the boy screamed as he walked across the room to the door.
"Kindly go and hate me somewhere else, then," his father replied, closing his eyes in frustration.
"You are not my father!" Pietro shouted before he sped off at super-speed, finally leaving his father in peace.
Erik sighed again. Why was Pietro upset with him this time? Did he really care?
No, he told himself, not really. Seeing that Gambit had thoughtfully left the bottle of whisky in his possession, he poured himself another glass and closed his eyes.
Just when he was beginning to drift off, a voice reached him loud and clear. Defensively, he pushed his hands over his ears only to find that the voice was coming from elsewhere.
Xavier.
'You must try harder with the boy,' Xavier told him sternly. Erik hated it when Xavier decided to drop into his head like that for a chat. Especially when he didn't have his helmet at hand.
'Charles, can't you let an old man sleep?'
'You are not old, Erik. Pietro is your son, do nor cast him aside.'
'Didn't you hear him, Charles? He just said I wasn't his father. So in my eyes, that means he is not my son.'
'You care about him, Erik. I know you do.'
'There is a time and a place for you to stick your nose in and this, Charles, is not it. I am simply trying to have a nice, relaxing drink on my own.'
'Then you won't mind if I join you. I'll bring a good wine.' Erik sighed once more. As if today couldn't get any worse, now Charles had invited himself round for a drink.
"Whatever next?" he growled angrily as Pyro crept in, swiftly picked up his lighter from the table and tiptoed out again.
After another half-glass of whisky, the professor appeared and true to his word, he was holding a bottle of wine. Erik took it reluctantly and waved Charles in the vague direction of a seat.
"It has been so long since we met as friends," Charles observed as he lightly prodded a house of cards Gambit had left on the table.
"Friends, Charles?" Erik raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I think of you as my friend. That is why I am sorry to see you like this."
"It'll wear off by the morning- I've only had a few anyway."
"That is not what I meant and you know it." Charles looked piercingly into his friend's eyes. "You have changed, Erik. Why are you so keen on revenge?"
"Why didn't you save yourself the time and just read my mind instead?" Erik was beginning to get very annoyed now. He folded his arms and set his jaw, looking the spitting image of his angry son.
"Because I would rather you told me in person," Charles said simply. Erik gave a dry laugh.
"What's this? You, Xavier, not interfering? Oh, give me strength!"
"I sense a lot of anger, Erik."
"Didn't need to be a telepath to do that, surely?"
"Why don't you talk to me?"
Erik stared into the glass of wine the professor had given him previously. He knew it would do him good to talk to somebody, but it was a bit too late to start doing what was good for him when he was pushing sixty.
"Talk to me, Erik," Charles urged. There was a long silence in which Erik weighed up the pros and cons. They could hear Pietro having a heated rant in the background.
"Yes," Erik finally said. "Yes, alright Charles. I am too tired to fight you and besides, we must do something to drown out my son's racket."
"A wise decision." Xavier smiled. "Now, what has made you so bitter?"
There was another dry laugh from Erik. "Where shall I start? The Holocaust? Losing my wife to Anti-Mutant scum? Having to have my daughter sectioned in case she ended up killing someone?"
"There has been a lot of pain in your life," Charles said softly. Erik had the strongest urge to say "Duh," like his son would in these situations. "But you don't have to respond to it like this. You mustn't take it out on mankind."
Perhaps Xavier had a point. Erik couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt happy. Certainly, he'd felt a twisted kind of joy when a human had died at his hands but it wasn't the same feeling- the feeling he had when he'd kissed his wife or held his newborn twins for the first time. He could see that he'd grown up to be what he once detested, a bitter and twisted old man with a grudge against the whole world.
"You are right, Charles," Erik shook his head softly. "As usual. But you know what a stubborn creature I am. I can't- and I certainly won't change."
Charles shook his own head now, his eyes looking sad.
"I expected so much more from you, Erik. Your powers are so great. It is a pity you do not have the heart to match."
Erik snorted at the lines the professor was throwing him now.
"Let me sense your pain, friend," Charles said, wheeling himself over to a reluctant Erik. He outstretched his hands and lay them on Erik's warm forehead, closing his own eyes in concentration.
The pain he felt was numb and throbbing, always there and yet deeply repressed. He saw snatches of images accompanied by burning rage. There wasn't a sign of happiness in this man's lonely mind.
Erik watched as Xavier opened his eyes and stared at him, looking as if he understood. It was the kind of look Erik had been seeking for a while now. Acceptance. And yet what gave the professor the right to analyse him like this? It made him feel exposed and uncomfortable.
"Have another glass of wine," he instructed Charles, willing him to move away.
"I pity you, my friend," Xavier said softly as he gently stroked the bitter man's forehead. Loath as he was to admit it, the contact with another human was a huge comfort for Erik.
They stayed like that for a few seconds in complete silence, staring into each other's eyes and trying to make out the other's intention. However, the silence was broken by another indignant cry from Pietro and the sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall.
"Try and find that happiness, Erik," Charles said softly and gave him a meaningful look as he left.
Erik mused on this instruction as he heard the rising voices of the other three mutants and the sound of a fight breaking out.
"You little toerag!" screamed Pyro. "Give my fucking lighter back!"
And just as Erik was planning on ignoring them, he heard the Cajun shouting hysterically that dear little Pietro had set his father's entire wardrobe on fire.
"Gambit," he called, massaging his temples as the smirking Cajun appeared. "Bring me a Whisky."
"Sure t'ing, boss." Gambit swept a lock of hair out of his demonic eyes, still smirking. "Are we talking neat, on the rocks, soda? Malt, single malt, Tennessee, Scotch-"
Erik merely blinked as the mutant before him continued to list all the possibilities for one small glass of Whisky, ticking them off on his long fingers as he went.
"Just make it.." Erik searched for the right word, waving a nonplussed hand when it didn't come to him. "Make it alcoholic, Gambit."
With that, the Cajun winked and strode out of the room. Erik scanned the room with his tired eyes, letting them rest on the.. colossal Colossus who was turning himself to metal and back again repeatedly out of boredom. Under the glare of the lights, he kept reflecting rays and beaming them back at Erik who soon sorted the problem by levitating the metal-man into a filing cabinet where he stuck like a very large fridge magnet.
Pyro, who Erik had decided was actually insane, was content just to flick his lighter on and off, grinning like a madman every time the flame came up.
And then there was Pietro, his own flesh and blood sitting in the corner and turning the pages of a World Atlas with far more interest than was required. In fact.. he seemed to be leering at it. Using his powers of fatherly intuition and the fact that Pietro was sixteen and bombarded with hormones, Erik had a good idea what magazine his son was hiding under the Atlas.
This realisation was not met with a normal, fatherly reaction. One kind of father might have strode across the room and ripped the magazine from the culprit's hand telling him how filthy he was and then secretly sneaked a peek later. Another kind may have laughed, ruffled his hair and said something nauseating like "Attaboy!" But Erik felt absolutely nothing for his son and that was what made him different from other fathers.
He had loved Pietro once, of course- before the boy's mother had died. There was no bitterness in him back in those days. Now he was so full of anger and resentment that there just wasn't any room for his son. He was simply indifferent.
"Whisky, boss, just how you like it," Gambit called as he strutted into the room. "Alcoholic," he added, eyes flashing mischievously.
"Thank you, Gambit," Erik told him, taking the glass and swallowing the amber liquid.
"Can I have some of that whisky, boss?" Pyro asked hopefully. Erik looked from the alcohol in his hand to the lighter in Pyro's and deduced that letting him get his hands on a highly flammable liquid would not be the best of ideas.
"No, no, leave me in peace, all you!" snapped Erik. He found that the drink and terrible day he had just experienced were making him very irritable. A nasty voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was probably down to old age.
Pyro, Colossus and Gambit left in quick succession but Pietro didn't move. He had put down his 'reading-material' now and was staring at his father defiantly.
"You too, Pietro," Erik muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to cope with another of his son's tantrums.
"I hate you!" the boy screamed as he walked across the room to the door.
"Kindly go and hate me somewhere else, then," his father replied, closing his eyes in frustration.
"You are not my father!" Pietro shouted before he sped off at super-speed, finally leaving his father in peace.
Erik sighed again. Why was Pietro upset with him this time? Did he really care?
No, he told himself, not really. Seeing that Gambit had thoughtfully left the bottle of whisky in his possession, he poured himself another glass and closed his eyes.
Just when he was beginning to drift off, a voice reached him loud and clear. Defensively, he pushed his hands over his ears only to find that the voice was coming from elsewhere.
Xavier.
'You must try harder with the boy,' Xavier told him sternly. Erik hated it when Xavier decided to drop into his head like that for a chat. Especially when he didn't have his helmet at hand.
'Charles, can't you let an old man sleep?'
'You are not old, Erik. Pietro is your son, do nor cast him aside.'
'Didn't you hear him, Charles? He just said I wasn't his father. So in my eyes, that means he is not my son.'
'You care about him, Erik. I know you do.'
'There is a time and a place for you to stick your nose in and this, Charles, is not it. I am simply trying to have a nice, relaxing drink on my own.'
'Then you won't mind if I join you. I'll bring a good wine.' Erik sighed once more. As if today couldn't get any worse, now Charles had invited himself round for a drink.
"Whatever next?" he growled angrily as Pyro crept in, swiftly picked up his lighter from the table and tiptoed out again.
After another half-glass of whisky, the professor appeared and true to his word, he was holding a bottle of wine. Erik took it reluctantly and waved Charles in the vague direction of a seat.
"It has been so long since we met as friends," Charles observed as he lightly prodded a house of cards Gambit had left on the table.
"Friends, Charles?" Erik raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I think of you as my friend. That is why I am sorry to see you like this."
"It'll wear off by the morning- I've only had a few anyway."
"That is not what I meant and you know it." Charles looked piercingly into his friend's eyes. "You have changed, Erik. Why are you so keen on revenge?"
"Why didn't you save yourself the time and just read my mind instead?" Erik was beginning to get very annoyed now. He folded his arms and set his jaw, looking the spitting image of his angry son.
"Because I would rather you told me in person," Charles said simply. Erik gave a dry laugh.
"What's this? You, Xavier, not interfering? Oh, give me strength!"
"I sense a lot of anger, Erik."
"Didn't need to be a telepath to do that, surely?"
"Why don't you talk to me?"
Erik stared into the glass of wine the professor had given him previously. He knew it would do him good to talk to somebody, but it was a bit too late to start doing what was good for him when he was pushing sixty.
"Talk to me, Erik," Charles urged. There was a long silence in which Erik weighed up the pros and cons. They could hear Pietro having a heated rant in the background.
"Yes," Erik finally said. "Yes, alright Charles. I am too tired to fight you and besides, we must do something to drown out my son's racket."
"A wise decision." Xavier smiled. "Now, what has made you so bitter?"
There was another dry laugh from Erik. "Where shall I start? The Holocaust? Losing my wife to Anti-Mutant scum? Having to have my daughter sectioned in case she ended up killing someone?"
"There has been a lot of pain in your life," Charles said softly. Erik had the strongest urge to say "Duh," like his son would in these situations. "But you don't have to respond to it like this. You mustn't take it out on mankind."
Perhaps Xavier had a point. Erik couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt happy. Certainly, he'd felt a twisted kind of joy when a human had died at his hands but it wasn't the same feeling- the feeling he had when he'd kissed his wife or held his newborn twins for the first time. He could see that he'd grown up to be what he once detested, a bitter and twisted old man with a grudge against the whole world.
"You are right, Charles," Erik shook his head softly. "As usual. But you know what a stubborn creature I am. I can't- and I certainly won't change."
Charles shook his own head now, his eyes looking sad.
"I expected so much more from you, Erik. Your powers are so great. It is a pity you do not have the heart to match."
Erik snorted at the lines the professor was throwing him now.
"Let me sense your pain, friend," Charles said, wheeling himself over to a reluctant Erik. He outstretched his hands and lay them on Erik's warm forehead, closing his own eyes in concentration.
The pain he felt was numb and throbbing, always there and yet deeply repressed. He saw snatches of images accompanied by burning rage. There wasn't a sign of happiness in this man's lonely mind.
Erik watched as Xavier opened his eyes and stared at him, looking as if he understood. It was the kind of look Erik had been seeking for a while now. Acceptance. And yet what gave the professor the right to analyse him like this? It made him feel exposed and uncomfortable.
"Have another glass of wine," he instructed Charles, willing him to move away.
"I pity you, my friend," Xavier said softly as he gently stroked the bitter man's forehead. Loath as he was to admit it, the contact with another human was a huge comfort for Erik.
They stayed like that for a few seconds in complete silence, staring into each other's eyes and trying to make out the other's intention. However, the silence was broken by another indignant cry from Pietro and the sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall.
"Try and find that happiness, Erik," Charles said softly and gave him a meaningful look as he left.
Erik mused on this instruction as he heard the rising voices of the other three mutants and the sound of a fight breaking out.
"You little toerag!" screamed Pyro. "Give my fucking lighter back!"
And just as Erik was planning on ignoring them, he heard the Cajun shouting hysterically that dear little Pietro had set his father's entire wardrobe on fire.