Moving Metal Part 1

What would you do if you lost everything?
What would you do if given the power to make those responsible pay?
The power to create your ideal world, full of the people that you deem worthy.
Would you ignore the consequences?
In a time before Olivia, in a time before Terra, in a time before Jade,one person will have to make that choice, that sacrifice.

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Disclaimer: This story is a fan made retcon or retroactive continuity, meaning that any and all events from the cannon story are subject to change. Many characters and their likeness shown in this story are owned by Marvel and I will never try and make a profit off of this. Photo credit KARSTEN KLINTZSCH.
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Authors Note: This story is told in a framed narrative. All dialog in bold are direct words coming out of the narrator’s mouth. All dialog in italics are direct words coming out of the interrogator’s mouth.
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Chapter One:

“I’m no hero. It’s taken me years to realize and has cost me my closest friend. And now, in my final hours of life, I can see clearly, all of my mistakes, all of my sins. But I’m getting ahead of myself; you didn’t come here asking what. You’re looking for the why. Well, it all started quite some time ago in Poland.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dinner time!”

“I can still hear her voice, echoing through my head, even after all these years.”

“Let’s go join your mother, boy.”

“The scream; I can remember the scream like it was yesterday, the defining scream.”
~
“Honey! Are you alright!?”

I ran into the house, trailing right behind my panicked father. Opining the door we were shocked to find not one but five Nazi solders pointing their guns at my mother.

“What is the meaning of this!” demanded my father, almost punching one of the soldiers.

The one whom I can only assume is the leader rebutted. “You and your family have been accused of the most heinous of crimes, being Jews.”

At that, three of the soldiers pointed their guns at us and motioned to the door.

I was about to take a step towards it, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Have you ever heard a gunshot before? Yes? How about a gunshot inside of a small, closed room? No? I thought so.

All of my senses were overtaken with the noise. It was so loud that I couldn’t even see, let alone hear the thump of my father’s body hitting the hard, wooden floor.

As I regained my senses I could only think of one thing; compliance.

“Let’s go mom, listen to the soldiers”

Beginning to cry, my mother whispered out the most desperate of things, “Max, they killed him Max, they killed your father.”

“I know mom but there’s nothing we can do for him now. Our best hope is to survive, it’s what he would have wanted.”
The soldiers led us to their truck and instructed us to get in. Two of them sat in front while three of them sat in back with us, guns held the entire time.

As the truck turned on I whispered to my mother, “Deny everything.”

She nodded, weeping.

~

After what seemed like an hour, the truck stopped. We were instructed to get out. And bam, I saw it, seemingly hundreds of people being forced into a train. A train that I knew I would be forced onto, and for some reason I felt no fear. Actually, it isn’t just fear; I couldn’t feel anything.

My mother and I were instructed -forced- into one of the very cramped train cars.

“And I’m telling you, no one who has ever gotten into one of these trains has ever been seen again.”

I whispered to my mother, “Ignore them, as long as we stick together we will be fine.”

“Stop it, you’re scaring the children.”

“And scared they should be, the only way that we are going to get out of here is to escape before the train leaves, and I can’t do it alone, we all need to all overrun the guard, in order to get out! They can’t have enough bullets for all of us.”

Walking over to the clearly crazy man, I placed a hand on his shoulder and calmly stated that “There must be 100 soldiers out there, each armed to the teeth. Now, ask yourself this, do you really think you can rally up enough people in the next minute or so, in order to over power them? Our best chance is to wait it out and survive.”

My mother appeared shocked, presumably because I’ve never acted like this before; outgoing. I assume that it has to do with watching my father get murdered.

“Max. Max, stop it.” My mother weakly said.

I pointed at the young, the weak, the old. “Do you really think that these people will be of any help in your little escape? We need to be there for them, your plan is crazy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Your name was Max?”

It’s been a long time since I’ve gone by that name. Yes, I was born Max Eisenhardt.”

”I would have never guessed. No one would”

”We’re not so different, you and I. The only difference is that back in the day we were called mutants, not fancy shmancy metahumans. Anyway, back to the story; unless you want me to stop?”

”Please continue”

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During that train ride I spent much time thinking. Thinking about my dead father, whom I will never see again, who will never teach me anything again, who will never protect me again.

I thought about my mother, whom I will have to defend and protect to my last breath.

I wondered where they would take us, scratch that, I feared where they would take us.

That's right, my emotions are back, and I’m scared.

My mother is asleep, I have no idea how she could sleep at a time like this.

~

Hushed voices could be heard as the train screeched to a halt.

“This is the end, isn’t it?” A frail looking woman exclaimed.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it probably was.

My heart must have missed quite a few beats while the train door slid open.

Soldiers stood there, guns trained on us, with hatred and disgust in their eyes.

The soldier in command ordered us off of the train, while men in white coats inspected all us, sending us into one of three lines; one for men, one for women, and one for the weak. My mother and I were separated but thankfully neither of us was placed into the line of the weak.

We were led into rooms, full of officers, doctors, and chairs with straps on them. An armed guard instructed me into one of those chairs, and tied me down to it.

An old doctor with a clipboard and a box came up to me. “What’s your name boy?”

Petrified, I responded “Max.”

“That is your name of the past; your new name is 214782, remember it.”

He then proceeded to take out a needle and tattoo said number into my left forearm. It was absolutely excruciating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Do, do you still have it?”

”The tattoo? Unfortunately yes, I do, these things tend not to fade. Just like the severity of my crimes tend not to fade over time.”

”We’ll see.”

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And out of that horrid building I was lead, along with all of the others.

Down the streets we were lead, in the direction of our new permanent residence, while along the way we were treated to a horrible sight; the walking dead, people so thin that you could see every single bone in their body, people so weak that you wonder how they could walk. But walk they did, while carrying or pushing large pieces of metal.

”My eyes were opened that day; to all of the horror and cruelness of humanity.”

Into a small shanty we were lead. It had dozens of tiny cots lined up against the wall, suspended, bunk bed style.

We were told that this is where we are going to sleep; this is where we are going to eat.

I was lead to a building and instructed to carry large pieces of metal back and fourth, between decrepit workstations.

“If they need to remind you, they will shoot you, so remember, don’t stop working; ever.”

I stared at the kind man who had given me that advice, then looked away and got to work.

The first piece was the worst, as it was just a giant block of metal, which must have weighed at least 40 pounds.

Monotony, that became my day, unrelenting monotony. Did I mention that it was hard work as well?

~

With the work day finished we are all permitted to go back to our shanties. — And by permitted I mean forced —

Back at the shanty a grizzled man in his early thirties came up to me and said “I saw you come off of the train, and this, this hell, only gets worse. They killed my wife and child when we arrived. Sorry, I’m being rude; my name is Eric, Eric Lehnsherr, not that names mean anything anymore. I just had this strange desire to tell you all of this, being a child yourself. How old are you boy?”

“I turned fourteen last month.” I said, starting to lose it. “They killed him, they killed my father.” For the first time since this entire ordeal started, I hurt.

Unphased he replied, “I wish that I could tell you that you’ll see him again, or even that you’ll get out of here but I lost my faith the moment that I stepped off of that train.”

A gunshot could be heard in the distance.

“They must have executed someone too weak to work just now.”

“What is this place?” I fearfully said.

“Auschwitz, or as the people here like to call it: Hell.”

~

The days went on like this, hard brutal day of work, an execution here of there, a loaf of bread, talking to Eric, then bed, only to have the cycle repeat its self.

The day’s turned into weeks and I began losing hope, losing hope for escape, losing hope of ever seeing my mother again.

Until one day, out of the blue, while carrying a heavy block from one end of the camp to another, I saw a woman, thin and dirty but there was no question about it, my mother was alive and just out of reach.

I swore something to myself that day; I swore that I would get her out of here, that I would talk to her again.

With this newfound resolve, newfound passion, the following weeks became more bearable.

~

“The men and I have been working on a plan, a plan to get us out of here.”

“Why are you telling me this? It’s not like I can be much use to you.” I replied.

“You want to get your mother out of here right? Just listen to the plan and then when the time comes tail behind us, it’s the least that I could do.”

“Ok.”

Eric then proceeded to share the entire details of the plan with me. There was a sympathetic guard whom got us guns, a lot of them. It would go down in a day. This was my only chance.

Scared I asked, “I need to get my mother. I have no idea where she is though.”

“Let’s go then, I’ve figured out the guards’ routine well enough. So long as we don’t go near the wall we should be fine.”

Out of our shanty we went, Eric leading, me, following. He pointed in the direction of the women’s section and instructed me to stay low and right behind him. We weaved between shanties to avoid being caught and eventually we arrived, arrived at the women’s section.

We agreed that splitting up would be the worst possible idea, so instead we started exploring, every possible section, inside of every shanty, asking for her.

~

We went on like this for what felt like hours, almost getting caught a few times. And then like a miracle, we saw her, standing outside of a shanty looking decrepit.

Running towards her I almost shouted, “Mom, mom, it’s me mom, I’m alive.”

He gaze met mine and the lifelessness that I saw s second earlier was gone, replaced by hope.

“Mom, this is Eric, he’s going to get us out of here mom.”

Nodding she responds, “When?”

“Tomorrow, you have to come with us; we’re getting out of here tomorrow.”

Firmly taking her hand, we follow Eric back to our bunk to begin the waiting.

“I thought you were dead Mat, I thought I would never see you again.” She said whilst crying.

“It’s ok mom, just follow me tomorrow and we’ll get out of here.”

~

Morning. I had gotten no sleep the previous night. Just spent it thinking, thinking about how today would probably be my last day of life, my short life.

Eric instructed me that it was time, and that we should follow him.

We met up with a rather large group of men -all with guns- near the east gate. After giving one to Eric, they started talking, hyping themselves up.

~

It was time. Eric instructed us to follow close behind the group but to always hide behind something as cover. I agreed.

The group of men scampered between buildings, until the gate was in sight. After a short count by Eric, the command was given “CHARGE!”

~

”It was a massacre, so many dead. And I was powerless, powerless to help.”

~

Bodies were dropping left and right. And then shockingly, my friend and hero, collapsed right in front of my eyes. Out of cover I ran in a desperate attempt to help him, little did I know who was following me.

As soon as I heard the scream, time felt like it moved to a halt. Suddenly I knew that in a desperate attempt to stop me, my mother had been shot.

My body felt numb. Looking at her collapsed body I could only see horror but not horror at what had happened to her, no, she was terrified of me.

“Mom.” I spoke out in a voice not my own, spoken from a body not my own.

And over the whizzing of the bullets, over the hair in my eyes, over the numbness, I could feel one thing: Hatred.

TBC…

Authors Note: That was part one and yes, I know there were a lot of time jumps and I was unable to get into deep details on certain things but I intend for the next one to be longer and to be somewhat lacking of time jumps.

Please comment, it’s food for me, I need it for nourishment. ^_^