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Transference	By : akathetoad Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > General Views: 1798 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Marvel or Fox and I profit in now way from this work of fiction intended only for entertainment.

Chapter List
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Warning: There are implied atrocities in this story that are NOT suitable or palatable to many people. Please do not read if you have a problem reading about a functionally insane man willing to hurt/kill/molest men, women and children. I do in no way condone Toad's actions or anyone who would do anything similar. They are unspeakable. The point of this story is to explore what creates such monsters in men, not to excuse the behavior.

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The say children are innocent.
Maybe that's true of the newborns. Fuck knows I couldn't have been capable of anything truly horrible when I was a tike. But then they get older, even a few years older, they aren't so innocent of cruelty anymore. I hate humans. I hate them all. But the children hold a special place for me.
I can still feel the chain heavy around my small neck, weighing me down. I can still see the man come down into the basement to punish me for whatever it was he imagined I'd done wrong. Maybe I'd cried out in my sleep. Maybe his fat fuck wife wouldn't put out that night. Maybe he just liked me best. His hands were fat and meaty and dry when they slid over my bare skin and pulled me apart. They were unforgiving as they fondled and tugged at me in a mockery of pleasure. His arms were like tree trunks as they swung his belt at my back, at my chest and face and everywhere else he wanted to scar.
But that was every day.
The truly terrible days were when he left the door open and the bright light shone down to hurt my eyes and the children, in their boredom, would come down to play with me.
The faces run together for me now. The hands were all small and poked with sharp fingernails and explored all the nooks that the man's hands blundered over. The laughter was high pitched and cruel as they held out sweet treats to me and then pulled them back as I reached. I always reached. I was so hungry then.
They brought with them hope, those first few times. That someone new might take pity. That someone as small as I was would recognize my plight and help me to escape. The loss of hope is so much worse than a pain you've grown used to enduring.
When I escaped I burned the place down. I crept silently, though I was terrified the man would wake and put me back in the basement. I crept silently through each room and made fire. I knew about fire then, knew it well. It was an easy game to play to light each bed, quick and silent, and I smiled as I stood out on the lawn and listened to them scream. It sounded like the laughter but twisted into something I liked better.
I still like to hear the screams.
The men I crush under my boots like the worthless sacks of meat they are. The women sometimes too, though I like to punish them in other ways. Punish them like I can't punish my mother. My nameless faceless mother. I've looked but I have never found her.
I take special measures with the children who come into my care.
Not all children deserve to be punished, not all men and women, even the humans. Though most of them do. I've rescued human children who were mistreated as I was. The little red haired child who's mother slapped her in the department store after she'd tripped and fallen. I strung the woman up in the window and held the little girl's hand as I led her away. I didn't let her see. I bought her an ice cream and took her to the zoo and snapped her neck much too quickly to feel. I wouldn't subject her to the horrors of the orphanage. Now no one can touch her.
I don't hate the X-Men. I hate their naivety and their foolish inaction, but I don't hate them. It isn't fair that they don't know what I know, but I don't hate them. They teach the mutant children and never ever harm them. I've watched so many times to be sure. Their children aren't cruel either. So I feel no guilt when I leave the rescued mutant children to them. To hope. The tiny little things I rescue from the labs. All cut up and mutilated and they cling to me. Me, their protector. It's fun to play the hero sometimes.
But I'm better at punishment.
Magneto gives me the bad children. He turns away and doesn't ask me what I'll do to them. He doesn't want to know, I'm sure. Magneto was never one to dirty his own hands. I'll follow him to the ends of the earth but I know that I am less than he is, in his eyes, and probably in my own.
We take them sometimes, from their terrible parents. The ones who rule the Friends of Humanity with their iron fists and reign their terror down on the innocent children. Who corrupt their own into believing as they do, or birth them out that way with evil already in their hearts.
They call me monster and they tell me their Mommys and Daddys will punish me, and cleanse the earth of my kind. And I smile. They don't know real fear yet. Sometimes I play pretend. I pretend they might go home and that I am not the bringer of their pain. They talk big and terrible. They tell me things that children give up without torture. In their bravado they tell me of the monsters like me they've seen their parents kill. They demand I return them, and they are spoiled enough to believe I might act on their demands. Sometimes I pretend that I will.
There is nothing like that first expression when their innocence is lost. Sometimes I drag out the game so that I can delay my gratification. The more hope they hold in their hearts the harder is the fall. I practice taking it from them in different ways. Little by little sometimes, or all at once. Sometimes I surprise them with a killing blow. A knife in their belly. All the blood drains from their faces as they look down in disbelief.
Sometimes I keep them for months and play more devious games. If they are rather sheltered or rather stupid or especially young I can play more manipulative games. I can take their innocence little by little as I make them do things they feel funny about but don't quite know are wrong. I play it with them, offering their lives or offering food or a blanket in exchange for small chores that they don't like to do, but don't quite realize the implications. When they realize and their innocence is lost, the game is over and the fun is gone. And their corpses are thrown into the ocean for the sharks.
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