DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Marvel, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only.
Note: I guesstimated about Maggott's past, here, since we get so little info on him. He's said that he's tried to kill himself more than once, and the comics have hinted at ties beyond the once-off with Magneto.
Faces Of Fate
by Lise
Hot, searing sun.......
It was home. He looks around, and watches events unfold like they did so many times. Always in his dreams. Faces in pain, screams, and the babble of an insane more-than-man raining down on the street, acting like the people were animals, in need of training. And as always, just as the horror reaches its crescendo, the final peak, he wakes up, leaving the last blow to the imagination.
Unable to face the nightmares in his room, he slips through the silent hallways in search of comfort. He wonders what it means to belong in this place, to deserve the right to exist alongside such heroic creatures. Knowing it was only a matter of time before things got worse, as always. Knowing the joke that was himself. On himself. Wondering if things might change here, or if they never would...
No.
Thoughts like those wouldn't help anyone. Trying to shut out the things in his head, he pauses in the kitchen, and sits down at the table. Looking around but seeing things far away, he is taken in by the promise of a new beginning. He can see the possibilities. He knows of these people, and he knows he is accepted. He can almost believe it.
Almost.
And then the real villain appears in his mind. The reason he is here, not dead so many times over. The face of deranged wrath. His savior, and his teacher. A madman, like so many have called him.
It is like looking into a mirror. He blinks, and slowly the picture comes into view...the features slowly becoming his own....
No.
It didn't happen.
He blinks, and he is staring at the refrigerator again. He can feel his missing organs outside-- feeding as always, and he knows that soon it will be time to do something about it. For now, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block out their noise. Somewhere, a clock chimes. He wonders where it came from, then shrugs. Where anything comes from in this life, he isn't sure. He has no control. He rides the train of life, and jumps off-- to be pulled on again by an unseen hand. They deal cards. He folds....
He thinks he cannot succumb to this old guilt, old pain. Not here. Not now. For once, he is needed for something. And it is beyond his pathetic attempts at changing. As everything is. He sighs softly, hearing his missing parts slithering in the door. He talks to them softly, gently. He needs them to live. He wants to tear them apart.
It isn't an option.
He straightens, hearing someone moving around. He isn't used to having people around constantly. Trying to figure out who would be up so late, he listens intently. Not knowing, he waits.
"Sugah, up for a midnight snack?"
Her voice was sweet, if sad. He tries to answer, putting every strength in pushing down himself in favor of his mask. "Nah." Inwardly, he laughs. Snack. Yes.
She pulls open the fridge, and offers him a cola. He shakes his head once, no. She has no idea the finality, the summation of his life, in that gesture. She shrugs, and sits down.
"Why're you up?" He watches her drink closely, reliving the sensations in his memories.
She answers, "Can't sleep." She thinks about how little they all know about him. About how a lack of knowledge leads to lies. She thinks about many things.
He smiles charmingly, and says flippantly,"I'll tuck you in, kiss you goodnight..."
She laughs inwardly. Kiss her goodnight. If only. Each and every mental scar from every person she'd ever drained suddenly itch. She stares at him, and wonders how things got to be like this. How she ended up here, in this fate. Outwardly, she blinks, and replies, "Sugah, you don't want to try."
She leaves.
He watches her go, unaware of the conflict in her heart. Her life is guided by the same irony as his. They don't realize.
He goes back to staring at the wall, and the face of a brother comes back to him full force. He wonders what Fate led him to this life, this place. Shaking his head, he thinks about dying. It isn't the first time. It won't be the last. Each separate time, he tried to save people the pain of his existence, and put them into greater pain. He questions his decision to stay here. He smiles a little bitterly, and doubts if he has a choice. If he ever did. Fate intervenes at whatever moment it wishes. He has learned that, if nothing else.
Nothing else.
He has passed ordeals. He has fought for the Dream. For the devil. For survival. He has learned. And he hasn't grown an inch. This he also know. From boy to man to worse, he still has that inexplicable but urgent need to rid the earth of his existence. It would be so easy. It might be the best thing. It would be the final, the only, blow to Fate.....
No.
He stands, and makes his way up to his room again. Out the windows, he can see the first light of dawn on the horizon, and sighs. It doesn't matter what he fought, or who he fought with. Even if he could win against his life, he can't leave. It doesn't matter how much he longs to end it all. He'd tried more times than he could count to end it. Failed, each and every time. He knew that it wasn't over. He knew. Not yet.
No matter what he wants to do to himself, he can't. The game had to be played. The role carried out.
But it was so tempting sometimes...
No.
--At least, not today.