Erik concentrated. Though his hollow eyes spoke of sleepless nights, they were sharp and alert. If all one could see were his eyes, one might mistake the scrawny young man for a hunting eagle. However, there was no prey around. Erik always had to be alone when practicing, lest he become the hunted. Some sunlight crept through the cracks in the roof; barely illumating the abandoned warehouse. The rays of light revealed rusted old factory equipment that had been long since forgotten by anyone but Erik. To him, this was the perfect place for him to train. Were he to face his enemy and be victorious, he couldn't waste a second. For his enemies were many and strong, and him but a lost boy in a foreign land. Yet none could do what Erik could. Before him, several feet above the ground, floated a ten foot long iron bar. [i]Bend[/i], Erik thought, or rather commanded. The iron bar listened. Creaking and groaning, the metal bent, making it into a U-shape. Without losing an inch of focus, he proceeded to manipulate the iron bar. It bent in this direction and that, following his every whim. It bent around, forming a circle, and around itself, making it into an iron ribbon. While it hung there, Erik pushed himself harder. From the ground rose cogs and pedals and spanners and other mechanical gizmos one would expect to find in a factory, as well as a range of other small and large no longer describable clumps of metal. They all floated up into the air, clogging the air and darkening the room. Erik was as if in a trance. Controlling this many objects at once was challenging. As if he was a great maestro, he orchastrated the iron to flow in continually changing patterns. It made quite a lot of noise. More noise than Erik usually allowed himself to make. But there were no one who came around this part of town any longer. It was truly abandoned. No one had ever interrupted his training. He was confident he was alone out here. What he didn't know was that he had been observed the entire time he'd been there. 

Erik strained to keep all the items airborn. He vaguely recalled that he hadn't eaten in two days, nor slept more than a few hours. He blinked, exhaustion suddenly washing over him. He lost his grip. The flying metal whirred out of control, crashing and falling everywhere. Erik panicked and sped for the exit, barely managing to avoid the metal raining down. Someting hit him hard in the back of the head as he stumbled out the door. He landed face-down on the black ground. His head spinned, but hearing the collapsing sounds behind him, he forced himself onto his feet and walked further away from the warehouse. On the other side of the broken street, he decided it was safe, and turned around. Dizzy from his head being hit, he could barely see, but he saw all that he needed. His training hall was no more. It had fallen apart; becoming one with the surrounding rubble. He was struck by remorse. That's when he heard a voice. Complicated, English words. He span around to see who it was, but was cut short by another blow to his head. He fell, and lost consciousness before he hit the ground. 

He awoke in a strange room. He was in a soft bed. It was dark, and his head hurt immensely. On a tray by the bed was food. Bread, cheese, meat and pitcher of water. Without hesitation, he wolfed it all down. It wasn't until after he'd eaten that he felt the bandage around his head. Someone had patched him up. He looked around the room. It was small, and contained only a bed and the night table beside it. The only light came from the hall beyond his room, through the cracks along the edges of the door, though it was minimal. He went for the door, but found it locked. His heart began to race. He had been imprisoned. He laughed shakily. No prison could hold him, he thought. Concentrating, he tried to rip the door from its hinges. But nothing happened. Checking the door, he found the hinges were made of wood. He tried manipulating the bed, the tray, anything he could see, but nothing happened. For each object he tried, his fear grew. A scary realization dawned on him. There was no metal at all in this room. He'd never heard of a cell without any metal at all. 

Questions raced through his head as he paced the floor. Who had imprisoned him here? Was this cell designed specifically for him? And how? How was all this even remotely possible? He'd been so careful, only practicing when nobody had been around. He tried to think back. He remembered a voice, but that was all. He heard footsteps in the hall. A shutter in the door opened briskly, blinding his eyes with light. "I thought I heard noises. He's awake", a voice rasped. "I'll inform Doctor Hagueson", croaked another, "He'll be pleased to hear it. He's very interested in this particular subject. You keep an eye on him. And remember: no metal is to come near him. If he even sees metal, he's extremly dangerous. Understood?" Only silence followed, but through the shutter, Erik could see the man nod. So he was a subject again, just not to the Nazis this time. They spoke English. And he'd thought that England would be where he would explore freedom. What a foolish boy he had been.