Magneto

“Mantis,” Erik said, approaching the girl. It had been a while since their arrival on Genosha and all that that had entailed, but he hadn’t forgotten about the empath and her abilities. 

“I hope you’ve been settling in well and that you’ve found a way to make Genosha a temporary home,” he said, giving her a quick smile. “If you do need assistance in finding a residence or something - my door is always open.” He nodded over at the palace and the monument of himself outside it. “You can’t miss it.”

“I was actually wanting to speak to you about your abilities,” he continued. “As pleasant as things are right now, this... bubble that we’re trapped in is worrying, and I want to see if we can find a way to get out of it. I understand that you’re an ... empath? Could you tell me more about what you can do?”

“Fuck you.” Marcos spoke through grinding teeth. He was mad. Enraged. He gave no shits if this man was supposed to be Dawn’s grandfather or Lorna’s father. No one– especially Erik Lehnsherr– was allowed to tell him that he abandoned his family. That he was never trying. That he was a monster like his own father to abandon his family.

His hands were already glowing through the surface of his skin, clenching them into fists to prevent him from blasting Erik. “You don’t know anything about me, you piece of shit. I didn’t abandon them. I never wanted to lose them. Did you think I wanted to be a fuck up like you? Become someone that their kids would hate?”

“Fuck you. Don’t you fucking use Dawn as an excuse for you to start your wars with humankind and never refer to Dawn as your granddaughter.” His blood was boiling and it was already evident with the light showing through his veins.

“I never did anything for mutants? You clearly never cared enough to continue ‘watching Lorna from a distance’ because if you did, you would know about her work in the Mutant Underground. Our work in the Underground. Rescuing the mutants you were supposedly preparing a Sanctuary for. While you had this island, Lorna and I lived in an abandoned bank where we ‘lived out the dream of the X-Men’ to protect mutants.” 

“So don’t you fucking dare say I never did anything for mutantkind, asshole.”

Ha. It seemed that he had hit a nerve. There came the temper, the retaliation, and Erik noted that the boy was summoning his power. 

“What makes you think I was any different?” he demanded sharply. “You know what it’s like to be parted from a child. But what you don’t know yet is what it’s like to have to choose that path so that they can live -- and choose the consequences, even if it means being hated by them.”

Did Lorna hate him? Something twisted in him, something that he hadn’t expected ... something he’d thought long dead.

“And you-- you’ve never known what it’s like to bury a wife and a child, just because of who you are.” 

The screeching of metal ceased abruptly as Erik’s temper flared, the silence dropping like a stone and somehow even more tense than the cacophony before. “So what is it?” he snapped. “Is this supposed to be a contest of who has done more? Who has seen more? Who has suffered more?” 

He stepped closer, not caring about the outpouring of power from Marcos, and scoffed. “Myopic. You’re so blinded by your little concerns that you’ve made this all personal.” 

He considered eradicating the man; wiping him from the face of Genosha or casting him out so far and so fast that he would never find his way back to the island, let alone step foot on it. And yet--

I’m tired of fighting, Charles’ voice came to him. But if I know anything, my friend, I know this: if we start a war...

--it will never end.

The words gave him pause; made him realise that he didn’t want a war. Not between mutants. Not with the partner of his own daughter. Especially not over something as petty as tiny insults. Lorna had his own temper, and Marcos could accuse him of having abandoned her, but he knew this much - she would never, ever forgive him.

nightmares still lurked in the corners of her mind, doubts caused by the dream dimension. the more esme let herself dwell on it, the more she speculated that the ordeal didn’t cause them at all, only amplifying the fears she was never meant to have. she was a clone, designed as a weapon – weapon XIV to be exact. weapons weren’t made to have doubts.

there is no i, esme,                         there’s only we.                                             you’re nothing.

it wasn’t her sisters fault. they were stuck in that place too, and perhaps they were just better weapons than she was. esme still loved them. they were her sisters, they were all she really had in this world. and they didn’t abandon her in that forsaken jungle when she’d been poisoned, that had to count for something.

she needed distance from them to separate her thoughts from theirs. it didn’t come as a surprise to her that it hadn’t taken long for someone to establish a bar on genosha, as she slid into a seat, esme ordered herself a martini and leaned away from the bar, careful not to touch the surface. it’s sticky.

“i guess bars are the same no matter what part of the planet you’re stuck on.”

“Yes... indeed they are. Alcohol, music... and either company, or a place to drown sorrows.” 

Erik had never seen the Frost Sisters apart from each other before, and it surprised him to catch just one of them standing around. She seemed -- distressed, and he wondered -- “Did something happen? I must confess; this is the first time I’ve seen one of you without the other two close behind.”

Had they quarrelled? He knew that they shared a bond - one so close that it was described as a hive mind, but he couldn’t imagine exactly what that meant. But clearly they had minds of their own - though again, he hadn’t really given thought to whether they preferred to be together or apart.

Billy had managed to calm himself from a panic to being highly concerned and confused. He had figured out that he was currently on an Island called Genosha and that he was indeed on Earth. However, things were weird. He had seen people who he knew had known him yet they seemed to not recognise him at all, and so many of them seemed younger. He was now sitting under a tree in a park, trying to figure out his next plan of action. He needed to find Teddy, if Teddy had even ended up here with him. He also needed to find or contact someone who would recognise him. It was as if he had been wiped from everyone’s memories or as if he hadn’t even been born. Had he changed reality in his attempt to save his and Teddy’s life? Had he accidentally made it so that they were never born. 

His head was in his hands as he tried to think but approaching footsteps distracted him. “Unless you can help me figure things out, I’m not in the mood to talk.” 

Erik had been finding all kinds of strays on his island, which really wasn’t a surprise -- but this... this boy seemed different. 

“You’re on my island,” he said, staring him down, wondering if he was a mutant. “Genosha - I built it as a sanctuary for mutants even before we all ended up here. And if you were wondering how that happened - we believe that certain persons called upon the power of the reality stone, a powerful artifact capable of manipulating reality itself.” 

Dryly, he raised an eyebrow. “Was that enough information for you? It’s as much any of us know.”

@amindovermetal

steve didn’t know what to do in genosha, he’d spent his entire waking life fighting for what was right - what was considered good - and now, now - he was on the side of good but he didn’t…. there wasn’t anyone on the island that was doing harm. he felt lost, a little hopeless - maybe even sad, but at least he had the hope and faith that things were getting better.

aside from the whole ‘stuck in a reality bubble’ thing, plus added with this being magneto’s island.

sighing, he hung his head - moving off towards the capital palace and looking around for erik. instead, he found the statue of the mutant leader and stood before it, his hands on his hips as he squinted up towards the face of mutant freedom. he didn’t move or hesitate when he felt someone approach him - knowing exactly who that someone was. “it’s funny, they got your nose wrong.” he stated, turning to look over his shoulder at the man in question, “you’re better looking in person.”

“They didn’t get the nose wrong,” Erik observed, staring up at the statue. He usually didn’t look at it - it was enough for him that he knew it was there. But he had scrutinised closely while it was being built. “At least, when they built it, the nose wasn’t out of joint.” Frowning, he raised his hand, using his power to straighten the nose. Metal groaned as it shifted, and he frowned as he overbent it. “Stand there,” he directed, “tell me when it’s centered.” He adjusted it again, before he realised that America had just complimented him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” he said, “You’re not my type.” Patting America on the shoulder, he gestured out at the city. “But I’m sure you’ll find someone. In same ways, this is a great opportunity to get to know new people.”

when lorna first learned she was the heir to some island intended for the safety of mutants, she hardly believed it. she laughed and said no, that whatever it was, it couldn’t have been true because something like that always came with a price. she had learned that the hard way – and now here they were. everyone was, in theory, safe on this island. mutants, enhanced, and even human allies alike. but at what cost? they couldn’t leave. they were trapped again as they had been in the soul stone months ago. that wasn’t erik’s fault – or anyone’s, only a ill step of fate.

she stepped away from the now bustling and crowded city, away from the prying eyes of locals that knew who she was and others that were now finding out. lorna had decided that after she ensured dawn was cared for and watched, that she’d need quiet and distance to test a few theories.

her powers had been growing, or perhaps it was just that she was exercising them more now than she ever had before. she’d used them to hold up again thanos in the soul stone, help crush the gauntlet made of alien metal, took down a building after pulling a bunker out from underneath, and most recently – she felt the metallic elements in the earth’s surface enough to shift the ground. she was always sensitive to metal and the electromagnetic spectrum, but to feel the specific elements mixed in the ground was new. 

lorna stood at the border of the city and ridgeback mountains, curious if she could recreate the moment it’d happened or if her powers were only situationally based. she held up her hands, swirls of green magnetic energy flowing around her fingers as she tried to search out the elements again. “come on, come on –” she muttered to herself, caught off guard as she could feel someone approaching and immediately let go of whatever grip she had over it. “shit – sorry. i was just.. working on something.”

Erik had been looking for Lorna. He had the feeling that she was hiding from him, though he wasn’t sure why. They’d never really finished their conversation about her being the heir to Genosha. Though... while she hadn’t seemed to embrace the idea yet, Erik had been confident that she would come round. 

But as time moved on and the situation degenerated, Erik started to wonder whether Lorna was just trying to avoid the truth of the matter. And when he’d gone searching for her, he hadn’t been able to find her anywhere in the city. It took a few discrete inquiries before he’d been able to locate her, and when he did...

...he found himself standing back, watching as she called upon her powers. 

His heart swelled with pride as magnetic energy spiralled from her fingertips, humming and calling to him. So similar to his own powers, and yet so uniquely hers - it was beautiful to behold. No, it was more than beautiful; it was a dream that he had never quite dared to dream since Nina’s death - the sight of a child of his, standing tall and proud, unafraid of her powers, wield them in broad daylight without a glimmer of hesitation--

--then she stopped. The power faded, and with it, the humming symphony of the metal around her. Silence fell, slicing between them like an invisible knife.

“Why did you stop?” he asked, frowning. He activated his own powers, recalling the work that she had been doing, activating the metallic elements and making them resonate. “Do you hear them? Do they call to you? Listen, Lorna.”

sorry wasn’t enough, and it never would be. too many were dead. but it was all charles could say, all he could really manage. his head and body ached and his insides felt cold, and he wished it were as easy as going to sleep and never waking. giving up had never sounded so sweet. and the more accusing and angry his old friend sounded, the more he knew he could never. “erik, please. i’m tired of fighting.” he glanced at his old partner, eyes soft, chest aching. “not today.” his tone was more pleading than he would’ve liked, but charles xavier was nothing if not honest. 

he wondered where erik would’ve struck. the white house, perhaps. the pentagon. perhaps there would’ve been children on a school field trip, as innocent as the children at the school… charles sighed. “we have to be better than them,” he whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut. “perhaps neither of us have ever been right,” he said quietly, and looked down, shaking his head. “perhaps there is no solution as simple as peace or war.”

perhaps it was time that they took on the offensive. he’d considered it time and time again –  how simple it would be to march on people like ross. but to what end? “but if i know anything, my friend, i know this: if we start a war, it will never end. not until one side commits genocide.” he looked up, finally, and saw erik lehnsherr instead of magneto – they way they were when they first met, brought together by impossible circumstances and with the mindset to change the world and mutant kind. they had been so close.

“i know you, erik. and i know that’s not what you want.” he paused, and his good hand tightened over the handles of his chair, knuckles turning white. “i have to believe that’s not what you want.”

Tired of fighting. Not today.

Erik’s fist clenched, and metal ripped from concrete with a harsh scream, before splintering and falling to the ground as he fought to regain control. “Fighting isn’t a choice, Charles,” he said, but his tone had moderated to a low growl. Pain seeped around it, dark and bloody like the wound on Charles’ leg. “Don’t you understand? For as long as the humans hate us - and they’ll always hate us - we don’t get to say ‘I don’t want to fight today’.”

He knew Charles was capable of fighting back. He’d seen him in action, had seen the quiet resilience, the brilliance of a strategic mind at work, the sheer power that Charles could bring to bear - even without ever tapping his powers. His was a voice that could raise armies, could move continents, could truly, spectacularly, change the world.

And yet he fettered himself - yes, lives were important, moral high ground was important, but that wasn’t the point. In fact, Erik could agree with him that unnecessary bloodshed wasn’t the way to go. That slaughtering all of the humans wasn’t the way to go.

What they disagreed upon was, really--

“Your misplaced optimism,” he found himself saying out loud. “You look for the best in people even when it isn’t there.” He stared into the other’s eyes, readying himself for another rant, but he could start to see the gathering storm behind the clear blue, and that-- that made him bridle his tongue, made him pause, and listen.

“You’re right,” he said, sudden clarity of thought breaking through the confusion in his mind. Somehow - that was always the way with Charles - as much as the man confused him, drove him to distraction with frustration, made him so furious that he couldn’t see straight - some times, some very rare times ... he lent him an insight into himself that Erik could never find on his own.

“You’re right,” he repeated, “I don’t want them dead.” And he never had. He’d made that choice -- way back when they fought Apocalypse. When he’d turned his back on the ancient mutant. When he’d chosen the side of the X-Men; the side of Charles Xavier; the side of stupid, hopeless, doomed optimism. “What I want is -- all of our kind -- safe.”

He drew a breath. Knelt before the chair. Placed a hand over Charles’, and willed him to understand. “You once said - true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity. Perhaps the true solution does too. And perhaps it doesn’t - perhaps we’ll never find it. But we can’t stop fighting.

“Fight alongside me, Charles. Not alone; and certainly not against.”

The annoyance in Erik’s voice did’t go unnoticed. In fact, the idea that a stupid comment could get to Lorna’s father enlightened him just a little bit. It wasn’t merely close enough to what he thought Erik deserved just for being a shitty father for leaving Lorna in that small town but it was good enough for the time being.

A chuckle of disbelief escaped his lips as he threatened to stop offering his island as a sanctuary. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You can easily open up your home to a bunch of strangers but you left Lorna behind with her aunt.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He knew he should have been wary about his words, knowing well that Erik could easily eject him off the island at the mere flick of the wrist, but truthfully, Marcos didn’t quite like Erik.

But the circling around him intimidated him just a bit. Marcos never thought he would be in the ‘meeting her parents’ situation with Lorna and it surprised him to hear that Erik sounded oddly protective of her.

“I should be asking you the same thing about Lorna.” He stood his ground firmer than their last encounter at Xavier’s. Marcos still feared Erik but he wasn’t going to let him be pushed around. 

“Before that thing that took away half of the universe, you were never in the picture. Now all of a sudden, you’re trying so hard to be Father of the Year. What are you up to?” 

"Is something funny?” Erik said sharply, as the boy -- granted, he was a full fledged adult, but these children were all so young in Erik’s eyes -- started laughing. “At least I work.” His eyes narrowed as Marcos brought up leaving Lorna with her aunt, and his temper flared, vicious and violent. “You know nothing,” he said, advancing on him, nearby metal starting to hum and vibrate in response to his anger. “I left Lorna there for her safety. I watched over her from a distance.

“You speak boldly, but you abandoned her -- and you left her with child. And now that we have returned from the Stone, you suddenly return to -- what, try so hard to be Father of the Year?” 

He snarled, and metal screeched. “I was fighting a greater war and preparing Genosha as a sanctuary for safety for all mutants. Creating a place - no, a world where my granddaughter could grow up in peace, where she would not have to be ripped from her parents just to survive.”

“Do not speak to me of abandonment or duty. Not when you have done nothing for mutantkind.” 

@amindovermetal

Cut the chicken into serving portions, season with salt and pepper, brown in melted fat. Remove from pan. Stir flour into fat, cook until mixture browns and thickens. 

Peggy undertook each step of the recipe with slightly quivering fingers, and the Captain America radio show droned in the background. As much as she used her hands, wiped them on her frock, and smudged at her mouth and hair, not a curl came loose from her perfectly pinned together appearance. She kept cooking. Even as urgency strained against the front of her forehead, as panic welled up in her throat, she stirred the flour in steady, measured movements.

Someone appeared in her periphery. There was a young boy in her kitchen, sitting at the table. One of the children’s friends from school, perhaps.

“Do you know where soup stock is?” she asked, voice strange and panicked. The string of pearls around her throat seemed to tighten minutely, and she scratched at it with perfectly manicured fingernails. “I-… I need to finish the chicken before Michael gets home. I need to–” something else, she needed to do something else, “…to have dinner ready, or the children will be very cross with me.”

This wasn’t home. Erik had no idea where this was, but he wanted his parents.

Wait, his parents were gone. They’d been taken, transported away to some ... other place -- why did his imagination throw up the sign of ominous grey building, metal gates, the sound of crying? -- and they’d told him not to go with them.

And so he was here. Somehow. And there was someone else here. 

“No,” he replied, looking at her. “This isn’t my house. Why are you here? Who are you?” He paused. “Why are you scared?” 

      Dead. Dead. Her brother and sisters, her fellow mutants and loved ones.. All gone. Dead. All that remained was the files in her hands, the pictures of the autopsy each and every one of them went through. Angel, Azazel, Hank, Charles, Erik, oh god-

      Files dropping to the ground, Raven could only follow as she fell to her own knees. Her hands covered her face as hot tears rolled down her cheeks, her chest tightening as she felt her breathing get harder to do.

      No, no, no- these files couldn’t be true. How did she even get them? Where was she? Where were the bodies? This had to be some sort of cruel joke, right? There was no way… it had to be fake… 

Erik was fairly certain that something was wrong, but he couldn’t place it. Nor could he remember how he’d ended up in this building, wandering through the deserted and darkened corridors.

A kidnapping? Impossible - no one was bold enough to try to hold him captive. They usually just tried to kill him straight out. Perhaps it was an illusion - someone - was probably messing with his mental state. 

“When I get out of here,” he growled, “There is going to be hell to pay.

His voice echoed down the corridor. No one answered -- but that was when he heard a clatter from one of the rooms. Breaking into a run, he used his power to rip the door open, tearing it clear of its hinges, before halting at the sight. Raven. Raven. Crying, on her knees, looking utterly devastated. 

There was a slight sense of unease amongst the girls as they listened to the reaction from the man – as much as they saw eye to eye with him, they were well aware of the reputation of his temper. They held a respect for his ability to get done whatever was needed, and a concern for their own well-being should they somehow provoke him.

“No one knows what the next target will be, but we could find out.” “We’ve invaded political campaigns before, it’s not so different.” Their shoulders shrugged. “It would require some finesse, the government knows our face.” Esme pointed out – they were lab created and the other two had been more recently captured before she’d orchestrated their escape. “But it doesn’t have to be our face they see.”

It was the type of idea that would put their own selves at risk, but one they were comfortable with. Knowing that he approved of their methods, and ability to be effective, was enough reassurance. Cutting off the head, as he called it.

“It’s always worked for us.”

A hum came from one of them, a look shared between the three, blue eyes glowing brightly and bouncing between the three. A quick telepathic conversation. Occasionally, they forgot it was better to speak with their mouths. A moment later, they turned back to him. “We’ve heard from around the grapevine that they’re assembling a new Avengers team.” “One to round up the powered people.” “If we could infiltrate that, we may get close enough to the ones in charge.”

Erik had met the Cuckoos earlier, but he hadn’t had the chance to familiarise himself with the full range of their abilities. “You can shapeshift too?” he asked. “Interesting. I knew about the telepathy and telekinesis, but -- ah.”

He paused. “No, you don’t have to shapeshift,” he said in realisation. “You just need to project a different image into someone’s mind.” He smirked. “Excellent. However -- do be careful, my dears. This will be dangerous, and I would hate to lose any of you.” His gaze softened momentarily with genuine concern. They were young, they were angry - it often translated to rashness. 

“If your mission is compromised, and if you’re in any danger -- do what you must in order to survive.” He looked between the three, utterly serious. He trusted that his message was clear - if they had to kill, if they had to turn someone’s brain to goo, he would approve.

“The New Avengers? Interesting. Yes -- do that. I’d also love to know are the Avengers and mutants would turn against us.”

Emma huffed. Of course. It had to be Erik Lehnsherr. “You don’t have to sound so happy to see me, Erik, darling.” she replied, sarcasm obvious in her tone. “Of course I know who you are. And you miss quite a lot when you’re busy vacationing on your lonely island and joining egomaniacs who want to take over and remake the world.” A low blow, she knew- probably not a good idea to bring up Apocalypse. But she was surprised he didn’t know she was at the school at that point. And she was always terrible with coping with a situation like this, memories of giving the X-men who found her six years ago a hard time flashing through her mind. No wonder this felt familiar. “Still wearing that dreadfully hideous helmet, I see.” she added as he slipped it on. Smart of him, if she was being honest. In his position, she wouldn’t be trusting either. She was always a threat, and he’d be an idiot to think otherwise.

She motioned at the students behind her. “Right here. I’ve been a teacher here for six years, Erik.” she told him, “I got my classroom out, but I need to get back in there and find any survivors.” Including Charles.

She had to laugh at his question. “If I knew who did it, darling, they’d already be drooling vegetables at my feet. Death is too good for them.” she told him. “But if I had to take a guess, I’d say this is the Friends of Humanity retaliating for what the lovely Lorna Dane did to their compound. Not that I blame her, if I had the ability, I’d have done the same.”

She turned to the kids behind her, some of them staring at Erik in awe, others fear. Some looked ready to stand their ground. “Children, Erik is on our side, for now,” she told them, glancing at Erik with a smirk on her face as if to tell him to try and tell her otherwise, “I hope your little island has room for an entire school.”

“I don’t think anyone would be happy to see you,” Erik snapped. “In any case, these are far from happy times, if you haven’t noticed.” He narrowed his eyes, tempted to toss a couple of metal stakes right through her and see how her diamond form held up to them. “Better than hiding here and waiting for humans to come and massacre you. At least my mutants are safe and sound.”

Not that he had particularly many mutants on Genosha -- specifically, he had all of two -- but the point held. Apocalypse may have been the wrong person to lead mutantkind, but Erik had joined his cause for the same principle that drove his life. Mutants needed to band together rather than subject themselves to humanity’s rule. Humans would never understand them, even if they pretended to - but when push came to shove...

Well. This was the result.

“Now if you’re done throwing petty insults, I’d rather get round to actually saving mutant lives,” he snapped back at the jab at his helmet. Calling on his power, he tossed a few metal bars away, using them to lever concrete and other rubble aside. “Does Charles still have that ridiculous basement? Has anyone been able to access it?” 

The good thing was, Cerebro and the training rooms were full of metal. 

And then Emma had to bring up Lorna. Metal literally splintered as Erik’s power ripped it asunder, the shards coming up to hover like a storm of waiting arrows. “Don’t you dare bring Lorna into this. There were countless mutants and others at the prison that day. And where were you? Hiding?”

@amindovermetal

“i’m fine,” charles insisted, waving off someone serving as a medic. this one was a young boy – no more than twenty – who was small in stature but who seemed undeterred by the sight of the aftermath of violence. he’d probably seen more than any boy his age should have, and charles wished he could send him inside, away from it all, so he could actually be a normal young adult for a few minutes. but he, like the boy,  knew that wasn’t really an option – genosha needed as much help as it could get for those who had been caught in the explosions.

explosions, plural. he still couldn’t quite process that. “it’s stopped bleeding. i don’t feel it.” he rubbed his hand over his bandaged leg, where just hours before a large wooden stake had been. he hadn’t noticed it when he first woke up – not until he’d started to become dizzy from loss of blood did he realize how bad the injury had actually been. he imagined the pain would’ve been unbearable, had he been able to feel it. his broken arm was in a sling, and there were others who needed more immediate attention. he touched the boys shoulder, nodding softly, and watched as he departed to the next victim of the attack. charles sighed, watching the people around him, wondering how it had come to this. what everything they’d done had been for. what they were supposed to do next. he was used to knowing the next step, having an idea or at least a semblance of one – but it felt bleak.

even magneto’s helmet couldn’t hide erik’s arrival from the telepath; charles felt him at his side, a looming presence that had once been one of comfort but had become one of strained friendship. he let out an unamused laugh through his nose, and shook his head – not at erik, but at everything. his hands tightened around the end of the arm rests of his chair, and for a moment, he closed his eyes.

“it’s good to see you, OLD FRIEND.” maybe that’s what they were always destined to be –  until they really. were old and tired and dying. old friends. something ancient. in the past. sometimes charles told himself that it never did have to be this way – that somewhere on the road to their separation he had missed something, that what followed was his fault. charles xavier was a man of guilt and self pity, two of his greatest faults. he knew it back when logan came to him from the future, and he knew it now. old habits were hard to break – he could only imagine how much worse it would get if the voices started again. but charles kept himself steady on his feet, his eyes clear – his wasn’t known as the most powerful brain in the world for nothing, and the least he could do was pretend to have some semblance of the togetherness and serenity that he used to.

“i’m sorry that it had to be like this.” he wanted to say he was sorry for everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours – but he knew what erik would’ve had him do, and that’s what gave him pause.

“genosha is a beautiful island, erik. what you’ve built here…” he swept his unbroken arm in front of him, as if that was enough to embody the whole island for what it was. genosha was stunning. it was green and peaceful, and raptors aside, it was safe. it was what his school was supposed to be, before its location was revealed. it wasn’t envy charles felt but sadness, that he couldn’t provide this for his students, and fear that, like the institute, genosha would not be safe forever. even with all of them protecting it. “i’m happy i finally get to see it.”

Erik wasn't angry - he was furious. When he’d first gone to the wreckage of the school, no one had been able to tell him where Charles was, and he’d hoped that the idiot had managed to get away to safety.

Not bloody likely if he was in a wheelchair, but maybe he’d been in the training room underground, shielded from harm.

But nothing ever went right where it came to Charles. And when Erik saw him surrounded by medics, bleeding out, leg bandaged and arm in a sling, he nearly saw red.

Metal started creaking and protesting his power crept out despite his attempts to control it. Anger had always been a fine way of activating his abilities, and right now, he was barely even inclined to rein it in. 

“Charles,” he bit out, halting before the other. Of course the idiot gave him overtures of friendship -- old friend, code words for the term that they used for each other, when their history was so much more than that. There simply wasn’t a term that encapsulated everything that they were to each other, a relationship that spanned decades and literal wars. 

Friends. Enemies. Opponents. Allies. Rivals. Partners.

“Sorry?” Erik snapped, when Charles offered paltry apologies. “Sorry fixes nothing. We should have moved earlier. We should have struck first.” He knew Charles would disagree, knew that they were gearing up for a fight, but the sight of so many mutants, Charles not least, injured and hurting ... he didn’t care. He wanted blood. He wanted revenge. He wanted this fixed. 

“And so... here we are at last,” he bit out, looking around at Genosha. “You should have come to me earlier. We could have prevented this. I told you - I’ve always told you - humans will never co-exist with us peacefully.”

He had just returned when the anti-mutant groups herded right at his heels, taking down the mansion as best as they could with Scott not being able to do anything about it. He had been feeling weak still, but he managed to make it back to the mansion without telling Jean just to check on the rest of the team and the kids. Unfortunately, it was a second too late. After his arrival he didn’t even make it past the foyer when the first attack came.

The ceiling collapsed in some parts of the lot, fires started, black smoke was looming over the skies, dust settling around him as he ran off, knowing he was spotted by some. Many of those anti-mutants already knew him, field leader of the X-Men, Scott Summers. They’d be out to get him, he knows, so he ran fast, dodging in the shadiest of alleys.

He couldn’t return to the estate, couldn’t risk returning to the mansion, and he knows that he had nowhere else to go that wouldn’t risk anyone else’s safety so he keeps to himself, replacing his visor with a pair of ruby sunglasses and walking away when it was safer. He could hear it, cheers of people and when he looks at why, he sees the news break and his heart beats faster. He can’t believe it. Tony, Peter, he thinks of all the people that must have been taken by the collapse of the compound, and he thinks back to the people that must have been injured and perished under the mansion.

A man hunt for all mutant and super beings was starting, and he knows he has to keep more from getting hurt. When he whips around he stops, noticing a familiar figure a few steps away from him and he rushes over, grabbing their arm and dragging them away from the crowd. “Help me.”

Erik had turned up too late to prevent any of the attacks on the mansion, and the knowledge burned bitter in his gut. He had found and interrogated some of the perpetrators, which gave him a few names that chilled his blood. Trask had been mentioned, though this time it was Olivia Trask, Bolivar’s granddaughter. Hatred ran deep in that family, it seemed.

He was returning from the mansion when he ran into the Summers boy. To his utter surprise, the child grabbed at him and asked for his help. Judging from Jean’s words, he had half expected to encounter an enemy - though this was a day of death and violence, and far too much mutant blood had already been spilled. 

“Relax,” he said, trying to calm Summers down. “Are you injured? Are you being followed?” He glanced behind him, seeing no immediate signs of pursuit. “You should head to the Sanctum Sanctorum,” he said quietly. “The sorcerer Stephen Strange has offered to keep our kind safe until a sanctuary can be found. Do you know where that is?”

The explosions that happened in the Avengers Compound and Xavier’s Institute shoved Marcos’s focus onto setting up a Mutant Underground Headquarters in New York and while as much as he disliked the idea of allowing Genosha to be an option to the mutants they were trying to save, it was more ideal than running from the law forever like him and Lorna. The last thing he wished for any of the people the Underground was saving was to have to constantly watch their back for the authorities. 

Marcos stood alongside mutants and others who decided to witness Erik’s grand opening of his island, skeptical arms crossed over each other as he could catch glimpses of metal towers through the portal. A part of him already calling the entire thing leading only to a bad idea.

He stepped through the portal, eyes scanning the new environment at his feet. A scoff left his lips along with a few words of sarcasm, “Why am I surprised this place is a metal scrapyard?” 

Now it made more sense to him as to why Lorna would be heir to this island one day. But until that one day where Lorna ‘ruled’, Marcos would eventually be regularly visiting the island to check on any of the mutant refugees the Mutant Underground would bring over.

“Scrapyard?” Erik whirled at the sound of the skeptical voice, annoyance flaring. “It’s constructed of metal, but it’s hardly a scrapyard.” 

For a moment, he considered tossing the annoying little shit off the island, but he realised a moment later that it was his daughter’s ... supposed partner.

“You would do well to have some manners. I have opened my home to you and other mutants as a sanctuary, but I could just as easily close it.”

He glared at him for a long moment, before deciding that this was as good a time as any to ask certain -- pertinent -- questions. Letting the others file past and waiting until they were more or less in private, he folded his arms and stared Marcos down.

“So,” he said, circling the boy. “Tell me more about yourself. What powers do you have?”

He narrowed his eyes, staring him down. “And what are your intentions towards my daughter?”

@amindovermetal​

wanda had lost one father and been given another – one that she knew only through memories of a universe now non-existent and the role he’s played in the mutant community. they still hadn’t met face to face; she couldn’t even be sure that he would know who she was to him. it would have been easy to show him, if he would let her – but she didn’t see that happening any time soon. she knew because she wouldn’t let someone show her, either, if she had a choice. and with his helmet, he did.

genosha was like nothing she’d ever seen – an island like she’d never imagined. riddled with mutants and inhabited by… dinosaurs. the knowledge she had from genosha were memories from another version of herself, and they were fuzzy, distracted by the events of M-DAY that rang in more clearly. she didn’t feel comfortable or at home, but she felt… familiar in a distant way. the way she might feel if she saw an old kindergarten classmate.

but it was a safe haven for mutants. wanda clung to that. maybe, maybe her father was on to something. despite his more extreme views, he had created a place where mutants could live in peace and harmony, without the threat of anti-mutant criminals kidnapping them out of their beds while they slept.

it didn’t take her long to find him – after all, genosha was magneto’s territory, and he was welcoming newcomers. he looked younger than the man in her memories, but no less experienced. maybe traumatized was a better word. there was a rage in his eyes that she recognized and understood – an exhausted anger from the hell that was the daily life of mutants in the world. wanda wore her uniform, curly dark hair loose around her shoulders, boots making her look taller, more imposing. she wished she had her old headpiece. maybe that would’ve meant something to him, even upon a first glance.

wanda maximoff kept her head held high. erik lensherr was probably the only person on earth she could face right now with her chin above her shoulders.

“genosha is beautiful.” she greeted him in a way that felt infantile but necessary – after all, it isn’t every day that you have to break the ice with a father who doesn’t know he’s your father. it wasn’t really something she’d been pre-prepared for. but it’s funny, she thought. she’s not nervous like she expected herself to be. “should i call you erik or magneto?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder at one of the dinosaur-like creatures that inhabited this island. there were too may distractions – she refocused. “my name is wanda.”

Erik was fuming quietly. He hadn’t exactly expected idolisation and worship from the stragglers who had come to Genosha, but at the very least, he’d expected them to say thank you or at least not make sarcastic comments. 

When he was approached by one of the younger ones, he felt immediately defensive, only to be given pause when she actually complimented his island. 

“It is,” he said, glancing out over it. “An unspoilt sanctuary -- for now, at least. I can only hope that it will remain that way when the humans come, because they will. But as they say... if you would have peace, prepare for war.”

There was something different about her, he realised now. Something in her eyes spoke of past horrors. “Magneto,” he replied, pleasantly surprised for the second time in the conversation that someone had actually asked. “It’s good to meet you, Wanda.” 

There was something else about her, something vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Perhaps they had crossed paths before? He’d seen many in the Stone and had caught glimpses of young mutants around the school, but there were few he’d actually gotten to know. “You’re no stranger to war,” he said, deciding to cut straight to the chase and give voice to his suspicions. “And ... I doubt you’re one of Charles’ students.”

@amindovermetal

“We assume you’ve heard the news.”

Three voices in unison began, coordinated clicking of heels on hard floor echoed as they stepped into the room. The girls shared a quick look of concern as they glanced between each other, debating amongst each other how they wanted to proceed with this conversation. They’d agreed to help Erik as he set up his safe haven for mutants, knowing they shared the sentiment of what may need to be done to achieve goals and a willingness to get it done.

“Xavier’s school, the Avenger’s compound – we hear people are concerned about the safety of the mutant and alien embassy’s.” “No one knows what could be hit next.” Esme began, but Sophie finished. They had a tendency to finish each other’s sentences, a shared mind often working in the same path and strongest as they all stood next to each other. “We’ve been working on getting those interested to Genosha.”

“But we could be more persuasive.” They would leave that option to him, if he wished to have them force someone’s hand to ensure their safety. They were convincing negotiators without the use of telepathy, but when putting that into play, they were nearly impossible to deny.

Phoebe stepped forward, the least remorseful of the three. “If we can get close enough to Trask or Ross, we could even persuade them to walk into a burning building, or a plane’s turbine. Feel free to get creative.”

Erik had been staring out through the windows at the view of Manhattan. In the far distance, he almost thought that he could still see smoke rising from the attacks on the school. 

“Retaliation,” he said, without turning. He knew immediately who it was who had entered the room - the perfectly in-sync footsteps and the voices were a dead giveaway. “No one knows, but it would be easy to guess. Any place that is safe for mutants - and perhaps others like the Avengers. Humans.” His voice twisted into a growl as he clenched his fists. “This always happens. Again, and again, and again. Charles will preach cooperation and forgiveness to his dying breath, but this will never be resolved through words.”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you would have peace, prepare for war.”

He’d almost forgotten the presence of the Cuckoos, but their suggestion brought his attention back to him. Half-turning, he regarded them, gesturing in an ‘I’m-listening’ gesture. “Cutting off the head. I suppose that would be the quickest way to end this conflict.” 

He thought for a moment. “We need information. We need to know their plans, what they have up their sleeves. Get it from them - I don’t care how. Then -- we should send them a message. Perhaps dying at the hands of their own weapons - turning them on each other - will send them a message.”