A/N: Yup, it's time to unleash a new 'X-Men' story. (grins) Yay…?

WARNINGS: SLASH, violence, death, gore, human trafficking, ADULT themes… (blinks) Uh… Anybody out there?

DISCLAIMER: Oh please…! If I did own something I'd be in the hospital for having jumped through the roof with joy.

Alright, then… (gulps) I'm just about to chicken out so I'll just cut the chase. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

The Nobodies

It Began With Red, Black and Blue

Florida, Southern District 4

September 2042

By the time he had, against all expectations, survived past his twenty-eight birthday Erik Lensherr had lost track on how many people he'd killed. He traveled from district to district, like some sort of a messenger of death, spreading devastation without a single backwards glance. He didn't regret, not really. For a very long time he'd been allowed to choose his assignments. It was the privilege of the very best.

Rapists.

Pedophiles.

Sadistic killers. (Oh, the irony…)

He put them down, like a vet does to dogs that have been deemed unfit for any form of rehabilitation. Damned souls with nothing good in them. Erik didn't enjoy the blood all over his hands but if someone had to take care of these animals…

Erik's pulse and heartbeat were perfectly even that late night, as he made sure that he had all the necessary equipment. With the calmness of a very experienced predator he replayed his current assignment. Tried to spot holes in his plan of action.

William Stryker. A sadistic asshole with a military background. One of the golden boys of the CIA during daytime, a sadistic monster in the covers of the night. A man who'd killed twenty-two mutants in the name of science, right after torturing them for days. Erik was going to enjoy putting down this one, very much. For once Azazel had given him a pleasant task.

Men like Stryker were the biggest reason to his choice of career.

His eyes and heart on fire Erik made his way to the massive, white mansion, snorting at the lack of security systems. Did Stryker honestly think that no one would ever come after him? That he wouldn't have to pay for what he'd done?

Ah, not quite.

Two security guards. Three. Erik had been prepared for them. With a quick, almost off-handed inspection he detected their guns. Their metal answered his call eagerly. The guards could only stare as their weapons flew away, two landing right at Erik's feet and one fitting chillingly well to the hold of his long fingers.

Ten sharp bangs. Followed by four more, just to be sure. A body after another fell down, like nothing but rag dolls. The look on Erik's face didn't change when he marched over the corpses and blood. Didn't spare the gruesome deaths a single glance. According to his report Stryker never had more guards than this. It was time to finish the job, then.

Fast and easy. No battles with conscience. Good. Erik preferred it that way.

The mansion was dark and sounded hollow, which made it easy for Erik not to look around. He never looked around, never spent more time in his targets' homes than necessary. The less he knew of them as humans the better. He'd seen the building's design. It was easy to find the master bedroom without much of looking.

Stryker was awake, of course. After all it'd been fourteen gunshots and Erik hadn't bothered to use a silencer. It felt more honest that way.

A fool's honesty. There was a gun greeting him. A Glock 26, to be exact. It was swatted away with a single flick of a wrist – but not before he'd given Stryker's forehead a rather impressive bruise with it.

Still obviously looking for something to use as a weapon or shield Stryker stammered, trembling violently and deathly pale. "I'm a federal agent. If you shoot, I swear to god I'll…!"

Erik wasn't impressed. His eyebrow arched while the agent's gun was already responding to the flirt of his powers, ready to act. "You'll what? Kill me, just like you slaughtered those twenty-two others of my kind? I'm curious to see you try." And then the gun was already in his grasp. In an instant he pointed, tilted his head, savoured the electrifying moment right before the kill. "I'm not letting you extinguish this species." He fired once. Twice. Altogether six times, his hand testing the gun that'd been held against him only moments earlier. Flashbacks pummeled his head when he watched the body fall down.

/ "You need to be a very brave boy, Erik." /

/ "I love you." /

/ "Don't make a sound." /

/ "It'll be alright." /

/ His father's dying breath. /

/ His mother's scream. /

/ His mother's blood, spreading like wasted fine wine all over the floor. /

Erik might've been lost to that disastrous path of memories for ages if it wasn't for the sounds that found his ears all of a sudden. Thuds. Scratches. Choked gasps. Turning his head towards the direction of the noise Erik discovered a huge, tightly locked closet. As though who or whatever caused to ruckus had sensed his attention the sounds intensified. Then stopped altogether. There seemed to be a flash of terror in the air.

Erik frowned, adrenaline making the hair in the back of his neck rise. Who the hell was making all that noise? There wasn't supposed to be anyone else in the mansion.

His powers fully prepared along with the gun Erik approached quickly, without making a sound. He counted to three in his head, then unleashed his powers on the door. It flew open with almost pathetic ease.

Flew open to reveal the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Erik blinked against his will, even staggered a step backwards. Those eyes… They caught his and held, like he'd been under some sort of a spell. It took ages until he finally managed to give the stranger a proper look.

The trapped man couldn't be much older than twenty. The first thing Erik noticed was the unhealthily pale naked skin, which the man tried desperately to hide immediately after catching him looking. The skin he managed to see was full of wounds, scars and bruises. The man's brown hair looked like they hadn't been washed properly in a while and the whole body was so thin that it would've been easy to distinguish most of the bones. None of that caught Erik's attention, though, no matter how shocked he was by what he saw. Those eyes were what mesmerized him. Despite the stranger's appalling physical condition those blue pools hadn't lost their magic. The soul behind them, no matter how terrified, hadn't been broken.

Who was this man? How did he get into a closet? What the hell was going on in the mansion before he came?

Erik didn't know how long they'd simply stared at each other until the younger man finally spoke. Spoke, in a language Erik couldn't understand. That was Russian, wasn't it? The words flowed out rapidly, with fear, panic, threat and despair.

Erik raised his hands, trying to keep anger and irritation from his face. He probably failed. Oh, for fuck's sakes…! "I don't speak Russian, alright? I don't understand a damn word you're saying!" he snarled, deciding that English was his best guess. "Calm down and shut up, alright?"

His words had an instant impact, although perhaps not the one he'd been expecting. The stranger's mouth hung open and the eyes widened dramatically. A second ticked by before a breath light voice came. "Are you… going to kill me?" Horrified as the younger man was Erik couldn't help detecting the slightest hint of hope. It chilled him.

I really should, you know? Erik took his time before answering. "No. I'm not."

The other nodded but didn't speak. Erik was glad. He needed some time to think.

What the hell was he going to do? Stryker must've called out for help. Soon the whole mansion would be full of armed men and he wasn't sure if even he'd be able to outmatch them all. If he'd leave this stranger all alone the man would most likely be killed, blamed for the deaths of Stryker and his guards. If they'd go together Erik had a feeling that he'd get into all kinds of trouble.

It would've been wonderful to have at least one good option.

"Can you walk?" Erik asked in the end, trying to keep his tone flat despite the annoying tingling underneath his skin. Because the stranger appeared half dead.

The prisoner nodded surprisingly determinedly. Erik could practically hear how much it hurt but the brown haired enigma forced himself on all fours, then up. Slowly, slowly, trembling like a leaf in a storm and biting his lip not to whimper. But succeeding.

Without saying a word – not understanding himself at all anymore – Erik moved so that he supported the struggling man with one arm. The stranger shivered and appeared sceptical for a moment, clearly not having anticipated such a gesture, then flashed him a look of gratitude. "Thank you."

Erik couldn't keep himself from snorting. Their steps were slow and laboured as they began to take their leave. "Don't thank me", he half growled. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet."

The brown haired man shivered but said nothing. Clearly walking was taking all the man's concentration. Each step seemed to be a new world of pain.

One their way the stranger put evident effort into not looking at all the death, all the blood, Erik had left behind. There were some tears in those blue eyes but they didn't spill and the man didn't utter a single word through tightly gritted teeth. The metal bender was glad. He wasn't up to lying that he felt bad about those kills, for there was still no remorse in his veins.

Reaching Erik's car took them ten minutes although the distance wasn't all that long. It was almost too late, they both knew. Any moment now Stryker's backup would be there. With a little bit more force than would've probably been wise Erik pushed the stranger to his car, closing his ears on the hiss of pain that slipped from the other. Frowning at the blood that was now staining his shirt as well he hopped to the driver's seat and started the car without uttering a word. Ushering the vehicle into motion he tried not to look at the naked, bloodied and shivering man beside him. (The things that'd be thought of them if they'd be pulled over…)

They'd been driving for about fifteen minutes, fast as the devil had been chasing them, until Charles had gathered himself enough to speak. Those eyes flickered on him for a microsecond before the whisper came, so lightly that it could've been all in Erik's head. "Erik… Thank you."

Erik said nothing, only tightened his hold on the steering wheel. His eyes darkened, matching well with the night around them. He held on tight, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

(It wasn't until quite a bit later Erik came to wonder how the stranger knew his name.)

TBC OR NOT?

A/N: So, folks… (gulps) It's your call. Was that any good at all – or should I press delete and beg that you forget this ever existed? PLEASE, leave a note and let me know!

In any case, thank you so, so much for reading! (hugs) Take care!