#wgcainmarko

“...you’re Magneto.” It was the first thing that came to mind. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true: every rise and fall of his chest burned and tasted like acid in the back of his throat. Whether it was from the drugs they gave him or his body working against him again, Cain couldn’t tell. The last couple of weeks blurred together in a haze of pain and procedures and concrete walls that offered no insight into the changing of days. The price of being a mutant, I guess. At least one with unstable abilities like his own. 

Cain stood up, wincing as  dark spots bloomed before his eyes. Head rush. Right. Haven’t done this in a while. He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a slow, careful breath. Better. Okay. Try this again.

“They said you...you died,” Cain managed. That sounded more like a conversation, right? He lowered his arm, blinking several times until his vision cleared. Shit. Yeah, that was definitely Magneto in front of him. I knew it. There was no way the world’s most terrifying mutant would just keel over. He was too powerful. Too important. 

"Remind me who you are again?” Cain studied his companion (or was it chaperone?) skeptically. Talk about a turn of events. One minute he had the undivided attention of a man he’d basically idolized for years (not that he’d ever use those words out loud) and now...what? He’d been pawned off to the assistant? Acquaintance? What was this guy’s deal? 

Well this is stupid, Cain thought. Two years, two hundred thousand something miles on a literal grind through hell and he was just supposed to what—give up? Excuse him if he’d hoped his hard work would pay off.

“Yeah look,” Cain said, eying this newly not-wanted acquaintance up and down. “I don’t know what you think you’ve heard but I’m not here to ruffle any feathers. I’m just passing through.”

//why is this idiot still the only one I have muse for right now 🤣