To Live Forever || p.maximoff

Dychwelyd (Return)

The next day, Katarina called home. She was staying with a friend, though wouldn't say where, and she didn't know when she'd be back. If she'd be back. Mama pleaded with her for a long time, begging her to come back home, promising that things would be better. Katarina agreed to call home once a week, but she refused to do any more than that. 

"Just tell me you'll stay safe," Mama whispered into the receiver. The line went dead.

A horrible wind whipped through the trees, whose overgrown branches screeched across the windows. It sounded like the world was howling in pain. Enid watched the branches bend so low their leaves brushed the ground. She'd never seen weather like that, not in D.C. Sure, it got cold in Winter. Sure, it snowed sometimes. But this felt wrong.

Her suspicions were confirmed when someone started rapid-fire knocking the front door. Peter was on the other side, eyes wide as he barged in and grabbed the discarded TV remote from the futon. "Peter, what's going on?" Enid asked, watching him flip between channels so fast it made her head spin. 

He stopped on a channel broadcasting what was supposed to be the grand unveiling of Trask Industries' newest invention. Instead, the beautiful stadium was torn to shreds. People were screaming. And the man in the center of all that destruction, all that fear, was Erik---obscured by a metal helmet and cape, arms outstretched as he commanded the loaded guns to turn on their users, floating in midair as if suspended by invisible strings. Enid didn't recognize him. That thing wore Erik's face and used his voice, but those eyes held no sympathy, only hate and rage. 

He was in the middle of a raging speech, and Enid listened. "Today was meant to be a display of your power. Instead, I give you a glimpse of the devastation my race can unleash upon yours. Let this be a warning to the world," he said, then looked directly into the camera. "And to my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: no more hiding, no more suffering. You have lived in the shadows with shame and fear for too long."

It felt like he was looking through the screen, speaking to her deepest fears and desires. Her heart shattered. Erik wanted to help their people, keep them safe, help them grow...but he was going about it all wrong. Violence only breeds more violence. Enid was smart enough to know that. "Come out, join me, and fight together in a brotherhood of our kind! A new tomorrow....that starts today." As the guns began to rack themselves, Erik smiled. 

"Oh my God," Enid murmured, one hand rising to her mouth as she started pacing. "This can't be happening. I mean, we just helped that guy escape prison! We've just aid and abetted a mass murderer! I'm too young to go to jail." Then she stopped, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. "Where are Charles and Hank and weird future guy? Shouldn't they be there?" Her mind raced, and soon it was flooded with horrible thoughts. She was so panicked she started to externalize. "What if they're hurt? Or worse? What if they need help? We have to do something!"

Peter grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. He just looked at her for a moment. That girl who thought too hard and cared too much, who was willing to put herself in danger for near-strangers if it meant keeping them alive. Before he could say anything, the broadcast, which was still playing in the background, sent another voice cutting through the silence. 

"You want to make a statement?" 

Both Peter and Enid stared back at the screen, captivated by the President's words. 

"Kill me. Fine. But spare everyone else."

The President stood with his hands raised in surrender, edging himself away from the crowd of civilians and officials alike cowering in the exposed metal safe-room. Erik smirked and approached him. "Very heroic, Mr. President," he replied, pausing a few feet in front of the sacrificial lamb. "But you had no intention of sparing any of us. The future of our species begins now," he growled, as each of the floating guns he commanded shifted their focus, barrel by barrel, until they were all pointing directly at the President and his box of followers.