#uncannyopen

      Rafael had fallen in to a fairly easy pattern with work while attending the boarding school. He was aware that he had a lot of time to make up for, his mutation only have presented itself a couple of years ago compared to most of the people here having it spring to life in their teenage years. So, he pushed himself to do more. Even now, far past what he knew to be a less than official curfew, Rafael was out in the grounds. Sure, basketball was hardly training on it’s own, but he made it a challenge. Attack and defence. He needed to learn how to find a balance between the two, and if that stemmed from stopping himself scoring with his shadows, so be it.

     By the time he became aware of another presence, he’d already worked up a sweat and lost his jacket, tank top sticking in patches as he finally turned dark hues toward the side of the court. A sheepish grin glancing over his lips, illuminated by the court lights.

Max peered around the foyer of the mansion, watching young pupils flutter from one end of the long hall to the other. He could see the eagerness in their faces, and he took a moment to marvel in the luxury they enjoyed. They were safe, and they were able to be themselves. Max hadn’t had such luxury at that age. His was a childhood of pain and suffering, made only worse when his mutation was discovered.

But the sight of the joyous children, some human-passing, but several with clear physical mutations as well. He could see a boy with green lizard-like skin laughing with a boy who almost glowed with a golden veneer. It was a wonderful sight. As Magneto, he’d made some violent attempts at changing the world, so that mutant-kind could live free and safe. In the moment, he’d believed in his campaign, but as time passed, and his view expanded, he finally realized he’d made a mistake with his hate-fueled violence.

It was time to make a difference in a way that produced hope. 

“Can anyone find one of the staff, to assist me?” he called out to the bustling room. 

Eyes closed behind tired lids. Just the effort taken to seal his gaze away for a moment was paired with an overwhelming amount of strain in the corners and just behind. He paced his breathing, riding out the wave of testosterone and adrenaline. The surge of telekinetic infusion began to release, and so would the augments. In essence, it meant he’d feel more of the stimuli that he dampened and less of the perks of combining his own conditioning with his psionic hold. He was going to be reminded of the mission, and not in the way that he would’ve enjoyed. If you thought this was bad, you should see the other guy...well...guys.