rating: pg-13 dark, angsty.
Main Characters: Marie. Sort of Magneto
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
again :words in colons: are Marie the dreamer commenting on the dream.
Marie had been planning to join girl's movie night along with Kitty, Jubilee and a couple of the other girls that she didn't know very well, someone named Dani and someone named Viv. They'd planned to have popcorn and watch Brad Pitt movies. It was supposed to be fun and relaxing, something to take their minds off of boyfriends and tough classes and the fact that the world hated them for being mutants. Jubilee had gotten the movies from Blockbuster, Interview With a Vampire, Meet Joe Black, and she'd also got something called Twelve Monkeys, which Marie had never heard of before.
By the time they'd finished it, Marie wished she'd remained in ignorance. The movie had given her goosebumps, and a bad feeling about life and governments and the future. She really hoped that she wouldn't dream tonight. Not anyone else's dreams from from dark and tormented minds or even dreams from the minds of hormonal seventeen year old boys. After seeing a movie like that, she didn't even want to have any of her own dreams.
It was with a feeling of general dread and nervousness that she finally went to bed, taking a precautionary sleeping pill in hopes that it would help prevent dreams, any dreams.
The sky was a dull gray, with cold rain pouring down, turning everything into mud. Whatever grass may have once been here was gone now, worn away by hundreds, thousands of feet, shuffling through the pathways between the metal fencing. The metal was gray, the sky was darker gray, the ground was muddy water over thick churned cold mud, and he, like everyone else had only worn clothing in grays and browns. His hands stung from the cold, and he couldn't feel his feet anymore.
He was afraid. Why had they been brought to this place, here so very far from their home? Why were there only the long low buildings, looking almost like warehouses, and the large building, like some sort of factory, with two large smokestacks raising into the sky, releasing twin smudges of thick smoke that somehow looked greasy. There were soldiers all around, in their frightening uniforms with long rifles; the soldiers of the Third Reich.
Everyone looked so tired, so hopeless. He felt so small and insignificant, no more than a small and dirty boy in a crowd of tired dirty people, soaked by the relentless cold rain. He was tired and cold down to his bones, and frightened. He gripped his mother's hand, staying close by her side. Surely she could find a way to make things better, maybe even find some way that all of this would make some measure of sense.
:oh God... whose dream is this? I don't want to see any more!:
One of the soldiers gestured at his mother, and two of them came forward, seizing her roughly by her arms, the one on the right pushing him away forcefully, making him fall back into a puddle. By the time he had regained his feet, filled with a nameless sense of dread, they were dragging her away towards the building with the tall smokestacks. He could see her, trying to reach out to him, her face filled with fear as she screamed his name.
"Eric! no... no... Erik!"
He reached towards her, part of him knowing that she was too far away, part of him only certain that something bad would happen to her if they took her, and the small voice that knew this for a memory screaming obscenities towards the guards, knowing that this was the last time he would see his mother. Knowing exactly what had happened, how the people deemed too weak or useless to work had been thrown into the fires, burned into the greasy smoke that had poured into the sky. In defiance with all normal laws of behavior, the metal gate began to stretch towards him, curling back on itself as if peeling away... Pain blossomed from the guard's rifle connecting to his skull, and he collapsed once more to the cold muddy ground.
It had been this place that had taught him to hate, and to understand suffering and deprivation. This place that had swallowed a frightened boy, uncertain of what was happening, and spat out a young man, determined to never let something like this happen again, that there would never again be camps like this, where people were sent to die for the way they had been born. He was willing to do anything to prevent such an occurrence.
But this was not reality, this was a dream, a nightmarish twisting of events. The uniforms gradually changed, becoming more greenish, less specific. The weapons also changed, advancing to newer, more powerful weapons. And there were people falling, as if the passing of time had been hastened... and still he remained the weak, powerless child that had been herded into the camp.
The other prisoners were also changing. While they were still dressed in drab colors, the fabrics thin and of little protection against the cold, the yellow stars had blurred, altering themselves to an X contained in a circle, the symbol of mutation. Their features had changed as well, some now had scales, or water soaked fur, or bedraggled feathers dropping in the constant rain. Many heads still had the shaved stubble that had been in the real camp, but others now had long, matted manes in an astonishing assortment of colors. Now, the prisoners were all mutants, or accused mutants, the new untouchables in this darkest age that had come, even if only in the terrors of the night. They were all mutants here, their special gifts somehow stripped from him, their captors confident that no matter what atrocities were committed, no matter how degrading or depraved their treatment of the prisoners, nobody would care, nobody would stop them. After all, they were only mutants, not real people.
:But it isn't like that! That hasn't... couldn't happen, could it? Dear God, this can't have been real!:
Marie had awakened, tears streaming down her face, her gut frozen in fear and horror from the dream. It had been so intense, so horribly vivid... She shivered, feeling chilled, although she was uncertain if it was from the memory of the cold rain or from the images of the nightmare instead. That had been terrible...
She just curled into a small huddled ball on the bed, silent tears streaming down her face for a long time. She wept for the pain and fear of a small boy, his mother torn from him, and for the suffering of his people, and for fear that the rest of his nightmare might come to pass.
It almost made her feel sorry for Magneto.