Chapter 26

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[OMG OMG 18K READS? MY EXCITEMENT IS TOO MUCH. ALSO, I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT I HAVE NO EXCUSE TO HAVE KEPT YOU ALL WAITING I'M JUST LAZY. PLS FORGIVE ME]

Peter only paid enough attention to the tour guide to seem like he was actually there for a tour.

"Built in 1943, the Pentagon is the world's largest office building. . .housing more than 25,000 military employees. . . stretched out over six million square feet!"

He wondered if tour guides always sounded so bored. Before long a little girl asked for the bathroom, which caused the guide to point them out, continuing on about how there are plenty of bathrooms since it was constructed during segregation. He noticed Charles and Logan slip away down some stairs at the same time Hank retrieved a little device that would do something to the cameras while they broke Erik out. Magneto? Lehnsherr? The dude who was in prison? Peter wasn't too sure what to call him.

Peter saw the guard carrying Erik's lunch, and waited until the elevators were about to close--

"Nice day, huh?"

Peter was now in the guard's uniform carrying the tray, while the actual man was duct taped to the paneling. The guard's eyes were very wide as he watched Peter, but it didn't last long as the doors pinged open to display a hallway of twenty armed men. Walking through the door at the end, he stood above the glass to a cell and watched as Erik looked over at the tray that disturbed his mid-afternoon nap. He smiled when Erik looked up at him.

Peter bent down, still smiling, and placed his hands on the glass and grinned with giddiness as he vibrated it until it shattered.

With a curious look, Erik pulled himself up and out of the cell with considerable strength.

Erik stalked next to him when an alarm went off. He looked mildly annoyed. Peter rocked on the balls of his feet as the older man stood next to him, each facing the door.

"In three seconds, those doors are going to open. . .and twenty guards will be here to shoot us," Erik said. His voice carried a slight accent. Peter placed his hands behind Erik's head and back.

"Yup. That's what I'm waiting for," he said.

"What are you doing?" The man looked somewhat uncomfortable around the teen.

"I'm holding your neck so you don't get whiplash," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Whiiiplaaash," He replied, dragging out the syllables close to Erik's ear, much to his displeasure. Erik thought the boy either didn't notice him try to move away, or he didn't care.

Right on time the doors to the room opened and Peter took the step forward, feeling the familiar pull at his gut when he used his powers. Time slowed down for him, and with all too much fun he knocked all the guards over as he reached the elevator when the doors were closing. With a final step Peter ceased his speed and Erik stumbled on his feet, looking a little green.

Erik looked over at the teenager, who was now in a silver jacket and jeans, complete with goggles. He groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him.

"It'll pass. Happens to everybody," Peter told him. "So. You must've done something serious. What did you do?"

Silence greeted Peter.

"What'd you do? What'd you do man? Why'd they have you in there?" Peter whined. He knew he was annoying the older man.

"For killing the President," Erik replied. Peter opened his mouth to say more but shut it slowly, not expecting that answer. He looked over at the guard behind them and jabbed a finger towards Erik.

'Sh*t!'

The guard nodded as best he could with wide eyes. The duct tape made a funny crinkly sound as the he tried to move.

"If there's one thing I'm guilty of, it's fighting for our kind," Erik continued. Peter turned back to him.

"You know karate?"

"I don't know karate. But I know crazy."

A few moments pass between them as the elevator ascended up into the Pentagon. A thought occurred to Peter.

"They told me you control metal," he said. Peter continued, missing the worried look that flashed briefly across Erik's features. "You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that," Peter finished.

Without looking at each other, both Erik and Peter had a similar thought, causing them to look in opposite directions with confusion.

The doors pinged open and Charles' voice flooded in, along with alarms and spraying water.

". . .not very good with violence."

Erik screwed his face up, surprised that Charles was here, breaking him out of the Pentagon.

"Charles?" Charles on the other hand was not surprised, in fact, he was overcome by a wave of anger and punched Erik in the face. A satisfying smack was heard clearly by the four of them.

Logan had raised eyebrows at the action, considering the Professor had just said he didn't like violence.

"Good to see you too, old friend. And walking," Erik mumbled from the floor.

"No thanks to you," Charles spat.

"You're the last person in the world I expected to see today." Not that Erik expected anyone any day of the week.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. If we get you out, we do it my way. No killing," Charles said sternly.

Erik gestured to his head. "No helmet. I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted."

"I'm never getting inside of that head again. I need your word, Erik." Charles received a nod at the same time several armed officers ran into the room, gun raised.

"Nobody move!"

"Charles. ." Erik began, believing the telepath still had control over his powers.

"Hands up! Or we will shoot!"

"Freeze them, Charles," Erik said again. Charles shook his head in defeat. "I can't."

"Hands up!"

Everything in the room that was metal started shaking and floating up. Specifically, knives. Charles realized too late. "No!"

But Peter didn't. With all the time in the world, he lazily put on his goggles and proceeded to run around the room setting the officers up to punch themselves, to fall, and even took a hat from one. Listening to music, the last thing he did was push all the bullets away from his new friends.

When at last he stopped running, Peter was near the doors the guards had come through.

"Thanks kid," Logan said. He was relieved it was back to the four of them, considering he was the only one bullet proof.





Unbeknownst to any of the males, there was a fifth person in the kitchen.

A woman.

With long, lank red hair and grey eyes that burned, Seraphina stood in between the adolescent, Peter, and the three men. They couldn't see her, of course, and truth be told she wasn't sure when they would. Her mind stretched out towards them constantly, and her reward for her effort was that none of them detected her. The sprinklers overhead made it easier as water blotted their vision.

None of this was as hard as lifting an empty box. It was natural now--a self defense mechanism.

So when the people before her left the kitchen, and the building altogether, she followed.

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