Chapter Text
Pain dragged Piotr Rasputin back to consciousness. At first, he thought he was dreaming. His body felt wrong, and his head felt fuzzy. Cold metal pressed against his back. The air smelled sharply of antiseptic.
Slowly, Piotr opened his eyes. Bright white lights blinded him. He winced and turned his head.
He was in a laboratory. Not the X-Mansion infirmary. Not a hospital. A laboratory.
Panic surged through him. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t. His wrists and ankles were restrained. Thick metal bands held him firmly against a steel examination table. He pulled against them, but they didn't move.
His heart began to pound, and his head still felt fuzzy as he tried to transform into his steel form. But nothing happened.
A sharp electronic hum drew his attention downward. Around his neck sat a thick gold collar. Tiny red lights blinked steadily along its surface. An inhibitor collar.
"No..."
Piotr pulled against the restraints again, harder this time. The table rattled, but the restraints held.
He gritted his teeth and tried to think clearly. The last thing he remembered was injecting himself with the cure for the Legacy Virus.
One chance to save countless lives. One chance to stop the virus forever. He remembered injecting himself. Remembered the burning sensation spreading through his body. Remembered collapsing. Remembered—
Dying.
Piotr's breathing became uneven. He remembered dying. Didn't he?
The laboratory door slid open.
Piotr jerked his head toward the sound.
A tall, red-eyed figure entered. He was wearing a black cape, his skin was white, and there was a red diamond embedded in his forehead.
Piotr's stomach dropped. The man looked delighted.
"Excellent," he said as he approached the table carrying a tablet. "You're awake."
Piotr immediately strained against the restraints again.
The man ignored Piotr’s attempts to free himself. He set the tablet on a nearby counter and began organizing various instruments.
"Where am I?"
The man hummed thoughtfully. "That is a surprisingly common question among my guests."
"Answer me."
"You are in one of my laboratories."
Piotr's jaw tightened. "The X-Men will find me."
The man stopped what he was doing and laughed.
Piotr frowned. "What is funny?"
The man turned toward him. The smile never left his face. "Oh, Piotr." Something in his tone made Piotr's stomach twist. "The X-Men are not looking for you."
"You are wrong."
"No. No, I am not." The man picked up a surgical instrument and inspected it. "They won't come looking for you because they watched you die.”
Piotr's pulse quickened.
The man set the instrument down and looked directly at Piotr. "I replaced your body with a clone, and when it died, they cremated it. So, no Colossus, the X-Men won’t be looking for you. No one will be looking for you."
Piotr stared at him as the words sank in. If this man were telling the truth, there would be no investigation. No autopsy. Nothing left to examine. Nothing left to question. Nothing.
The X-Men thought he was dead. His sister thought he was dead. Professor Xavier. Storm. Logan. All of them.
The man watched the realization settle in. Enjoying every second.
Piotr swallowed hard. "Why?"
The man tilted his head. "Why?"
"Why do this?"
"I had a need for another test subject."
Piotr stared at him. “Who are you?”
“You may call me Mister Sinister.”
The name sent a chill down Piotr’s spine. He watched as Sinister began preparing equipment on a nearby counter. Checking readings. Adjusting settings. Making notes.
Like Piotr wasn't a person. Like he was an experiment. A specimen. An object.
Finally, Sinister picked up something small, no larger than a fingernail. A microchip. Sinister held it between two gloved fingers. Turning it so the light reflected off its surface.
"You've received training from Emma Frost, haven't you?"
Piotr frowned. "What?"
"On how to defend yourself against mind control?" Sinister smiled. "The X-Men are quite diligent about such things nowadays."
Piotr remained silent.
Sinister stepped closer. "The training was effective, I'm sure. So I will not waste my time attempting to take control of your mind.” He held the chip up. “However, I assure you that if you do not obey me, this will render you unconscious. Steel form or no."
Piotr glared at him. "You expect me to cooperate?"
"I expect you to learn." Sinister set the chip down and picked up a syringe.
Piotr pulled against the restraints. But it made no difference. Sinister stepped beside him and slid the needle into his arm.
“Blyat!”
Sinister merely smiled.
Piotr’s vision blurred almost immediately.
The lights overhead began to smear together.
"No one is coming for you, Colossus."
His eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
"The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
Piotr fought to stay awake. Fought to keep his eyes open. Fought to hold onto his anger. But the drug was stronger. The laboratory faded. The lights disappeared. And darkness swallowed him whole.
Darkness slowly gave way to awareness. The first thing Piotr noticed was the pain. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through his skull. It seemed to center behind his right temple, spreading outward with every heartbeat.
He groaned. Something cool brushed gently against his skin, a cloth. For a moment, Piotr remained still. The sensation was surprisingly gentle. A soft touch against his temple.
His brow furrowed. Then his eyes opened.
The blurry shape hovering over him jerked backward immediately. Someone scrambled away so quickly they nearly tripped over themselves.
Piotr pushed himself upright on instinct. Pain exploded through his head.
“Blyat!” He hissed through clenched teeth and grabbed at his temple.
The room spun. For several seconds, he simply sat there, breathing hard while the dizziness slowly faded.
When his vision finally cleared, he looked around. He was now in a cell. It had concrete walls and a metal door.
His stomach sank. The inhibitor collar was still around his neck. The red lights blinked steadily.
Piotr swallowed hard and looked to the far corner of the room. The person who had been tending to him stood there now. Watching him carefully. Keeping their distance. As though expecting him to attack.
Piotr studied them. They were clearly a mutant; they had gray skin, large white eyes, and no nose or hair. Their lean frame was wrapped in worn clothes that had clearly seen better days.
The realization settled heavily in Piotr’s chest. Sinister had said he needed another test subject.
Piotr slowly lowered his hand from his aching temple. "You were… helping me."
The stranger blinked their large white eyes at him. "I was making sure you didn't bleed all over the cot."
Piotr glanced down. A faint smear of dried blood marked the pillow. His temple hurt even worse now that he noticed it. He touched the area carefully. It was tender and swollen.
The stranger shifted uncomfortably but continued watching Piotr. Not openly hostile, but not friendly either. Just cautious, very cautious.
Piotr could not blame them. He probably looked intimidating even without his powers. Especially sitting on the edge of the cot, broad shoulders filling most of the available space.
"I am Piotr. Who are you?"
The stranger hesitated for a moment.
"My name is Morph."
The name hit Piotr immediately. His eyes widened.
Morph.
No. That couldn't be right. He knew that name. Not personally, but he knew it. Everyone at the mansion knew it. The X-Man who had been the first mutant killed by a Sentinel. They had been a teammate, a friend. Logan still talked about them sometimes.
Piotr stared and shook his head. "That is not possible."
Morph sighed, and their body shifted into a form that Piotr recognized. From an old team photo that hung in the mansion.
"But. You are dead."
"Yeah, well, from what I heard, so are you.”
Piotr kept staring. Morph rubbed the back of their neck uncomfortably as they shifted back into the gray form.
"You are Morph?"
"Last I checked."
Piotr frowned and looked at them more carefully. The stories he had heard painted a very different picture. This mutant looked exhausted, thin, wary. There were faint scars visible on their arms where their sleeves had ridden up.
A strange feeling settled in Piotr's chest. "How long have you been here?" he asked.
Morph laughed, the sound held no humor whatsoever. "Long enough."
Piotr frowned. Before he could ask another question, a sharp pulse of pain shot through his temple, and he winced.
Concern flashed across Morph’s face, and they straightened as if to go to Piotr, before they seemed to remember themselves.
"You should lie back down."
"I am fine."
"You are not."
Piotr opened his mouth to argue.
"You were unconscious for almost a day."
"A day?"
"Approximately." Morph shrugged. "The good news is you only threw up once."
"That is good news?"
Morph nodded. "Bad news is you now have a roommate who snores."
Piotr's mouth twitched into something like a smile. The expression surprised both of them.
Morph quickly looked away. As though they weren't quite sure what to do with that.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Morph eventually pushed away from the wall.
Piotr tensed as they crossed the room. Morph didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps they were simply used to people being wary around them.
They knelt beside their cot and reached underneath it.
Piotr frowned. For a moment, he wondered if they were retrieving a weapon.
Instead, Morph pulled out a small piece of bread wrapped in a scrap of cloth. Morph held it out toward him.
Piotr stared. "What is this?"
"Bread."
Piotr looked from the bread to Morph. "I can see that."
"Good." Morph wiggled it slightly. "Take it."
Slowly, Piotr accepted it. "Why?"
Morph shrugged. "It's night." They sat down on the edge of their cot. "You won't get food until morning."
Piotr looked down at the bread. Then back up at Morph. "You should eat it."
"You were unconscious all day." They pointed at the bread. "Something in your stomach will help."
Piotr hesitated. The piece was small enough that one bite would probably finish it. Yet Morph had hidden it beneath their bed. Saved it. For him. A man they had known for less than a day. A man who had questioned them repeatedly and trusted them even less.
"Thank you," Piotr said quietly.
"Yeah." They looked uncomfortable again as they stood. "Anyway." They flopped down onto their cot.
They pulled the thin blanket over themselves and curled onto their side, facing the wall. The movement looked practiced. Like they slept that way every night. Making themselves as small as possible.
Piotr watched them for a moment. The cell suddenly felt larger than it had before, lonelier.
After a few seconds, Morph’s voice drifted across the room. "Good night, Piotr."
The words caught him off guard. Something about them felt oddly normal. Like they were roommates in the mansion instead of prisoners in a cell beneath one of the most dangerous men on Earth.
Piotr looked down at the piece of bread in his hand. Then back at the gray-skinned mutant curled beneath the blanket. He broke off a small piece of bread and ate it. The rest he held for a moment longer.
Across the room, Morph's breathing had already begun to slow. As though they had fallen asleep almost instantly. Piotr wasn't sure he believed that. But he didn't call attention to it. Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind his cot and stared up at the ceiling.
His head still hurt. The inhibitor collar still pressed heavily against his throat. And somewhere beyond these walls, the people he loved believed he was dead. The thought should have crushed him. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the other cot. Toward the mutant who should have been dead too.
Eventually, Piotr lay down. Sleep did not come easily. But before it finally claimed him, one thought lingered in his mind.
If Morph had truly been here for years...
How had they survived?