So.

Magneto had decided to join the good guys, huh? The infamous villain of events prior tame?

Of course not.

Cyclops ripped off his protective shades and blasted his destructive rays at Magneto’s smirking face, screaming his rage as a way to cope with the burning pain in his eyes (another unfortunate price to pay for his so called “gift”). Everyone but Marie shielded their eyes as Cyclops extended his assault and she watched wide eyed as the blinding light enveloped its target. Everything surrounding where Magneto had been was being desecrated. Unfortunately, that also meant the main gate had disintegrated also. It was weird. she could feel no pain from Magneto, only the thrum of tightly coiled energy and an itch in her eyebrow akin to his irritation. Seeing this situation as pointless, Marie used her newfound control to seek out another link; feeling her own energy sink into the earth and travel in a jagged direction until she had found what she was looking for; slowly, she recalled the horrifying sensation that she would never forget. Pulling, a little more, higher doses, stronger connection. Had they opened their eyes in defiance of the blinding light, they would have spotted Marie’s own flash red momentarily and the intensity of the rays lessen. However no one did, not until the light ended and an unnerving silence befell them. There Magneto stood, unscathed, drinking from what seemed to be an antique flask with customised tailoring. So Magneto-like it was comforting.

Storm whipped around to see Scott out cold on the ground, blood trickling from his nose. She glared at Magneto in accusation and began to call on her powers. At this point both Marie and Magneto knew what was coming and the look that passed between them was...it was…

Well, they knew what it was and she nodded, obeying she silently turned and retreated back inside the mansion, leaving the door slightly ajar as invitation, if the man survived. He felt compelled to watch her leave. The man that took amused pride in being a sociopath would never admit this but, when he had laid eyes on her cotton clad form- in comparison the last time they had met, all he could think was how she had bloomed like a rose. Before she had been good for nothing but sacrifice and perhaps espionage. But now she was devine. Her energy thrummed within him from the moment she had instigated the connection. And he tried to ignore the sliver of relief he felt that she was now out of the way of any potential harm this confrontation may result in. Yes, he would ignore this unfamiliar feeling.

Naturally Xavier had been reading both their minds- careful not to interfere- for enlightenment of the situation. Magneto had failed to mention it wasn’t he who had “knocked” Cyclops out, but nevertheless cracked his neck in preparation for the upcoming task. Xavier now understood his line of thinking, and permitted his remaining team members to do as they wish. They needed to take out their frustrations and resentment now, else there would be issues. As the fight started he sent out a mental broadcast to all the participants of this unconventional brawl, ‘Keep it quiet and damage to a minimum.’ glancing at what used to be a very expensive and grand entrance, before calmly wheeling himself in the direction Marie had just gone.

‘My dear, please go to my study, whilst we wait for our guest.’

‘Yes.’

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Logan slammed his empty glass on the bar’s wooden surface, adding scrapes and nicks to the many other damages it had accumulated over the years. He snorted, he was decades older than the fuckin’ bar. Older than fuck knows. The Absinthe had felt warm sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach, as if swallowing the sun. Whiskey wasn’t strong enough anymore, couldn’t keep up with his regeneration. But as he reveled in the sensation of hard achieved intoxication a growl rumbled through his chest, as a tingling (that he knew was nothing to do with his last few drinks) shuttled up his spine. Marie was calling to him, his beast had awoken.

Time to go.

He hadn’t even had a good fight yet. Logan, the man, slowly lifted himself away from the bar and stumbled across the room to the exit. Wolverine, his primitive side howled in impatience, enforcing a repetitive chant ‘M'rie M'rie M'rie’ in time with the man’s own heartbeat. Had logan been free of this cursed animal, he would have been long gone from this forsaken city, from everything; but the animal in him now had that goddamn attachment: the girl. The fucking girl. Fumbling for his keys, logan looked up.

There the goddess stood. Not the girl. The goddess, wrapped in red. Jean. The keys jingled as they hit the ground. She was sat. On. His. Bike.

Jean.

Jean.

“Hello logan.”

Jean. The beast had shut up.

Her lips curved into a smile, “A gift.” She settled a card on the seat of logan’s (actually Scott’s) bike. It flittered by the force of the morning breeze, threatening to blow away, any minute and the only reassurance was her pointed finger, pressing it in place.

Just as he made a step towards her a car sped past, effectively breaking the enchantment and when he look back to her, she was gone.

Was he hallucinating? Had the Absinthe kicked in? As he got to his bike, her lingering scent made his nostrils flare and the folded note, again threatened to blow away. He grabbed at it. No. Jean was here.
Logan hesitated before opening the note. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, maybe an ‘I want you’ or a ‘I’m coming back’ or a fucking something. But no. Instead, her elegant handwriting shaped the words of an address. An apartment. A motel room to be specific. So without a second thought, he brought the bike to life and hit the gas hard.

By the time he had arrived the Absinthe’s effects had worn off, and had the paper not been jammed between his palm and the bike’s handle he would’ve concluded it to have been a dream. However, as he removed his helmet, the stench of blood and iron assaulted his senses. Something definitely didn’t feel right. Logan took a moment to second guess himself. Marie’s spiritual presence had left, she no longer called for him. It must not have been important. The kid could wait.

And since the saying, “curiosity killed the cat” didn’t really, you know, apply to him cause...he was almost indestructible. Logan allowed his curiosity to get the best of him and followed the all too familiar scent to its source. His footsteps echoed loud thumps as he walked round the side of the building and clanked as he trekked up the metal stairs to the balcony, glancing at every door he passed. Finally he got to the one where the scent was so strong it was sickening.

Looking down at the keyhole he noticed the lock to be broken and the door ajar. Huh, no key needed. Taking a quick look around to make sure there were no witnesses (even though the area was practically a ghost town) he used his knuckle to push the door wide open.

The sight was horrific. Logan immediately covered his nose and mouth. It's not that he was sensitive to the sight of gore- god knows the shit he’d done in his lifetime definitely wasn't pretty; but the scent was rank, and combine that with the sight before him? Even the toughest of men (i.e. him) would puke.

“What the hell!”

There was no body. Just pieces. Like a long strip of spine, chunks of a human femur and skull. The rest of whoever he, she or they were...smeared the walls and floor. Intestines hanging from this ceiling fan, strands of hair still connected to a scalp lying haphazardly at his feet. This was A-grade nastiness. The blood on the walls, single bed and floor was cold and beginning to dry but still warm, it was quite fresh. He could tell from where he stood, still outside. Logan wasn’t stupid enough to enter, and leave evidence of his presence in the wake of this shit-storm. Oh no. No fucking way was he getting tied to this. Pulling out his phone, he was thankful to be sober again as he took pictures, steady ones. And before he turned to go, he noticed a finger, fully intact, just a little bloody within reach. Grabbing the dirty handkerchief (he normally used to wipe grease stains from his hands when fiddling in the garage) from his back pocket, he crotched and swept the body part from the slick floor, wrapped it up tight and left.

It just so happened that, as Logan made his way to the bike, he took extra care to destroy all the security cameras in sight (whether they were working or not) and the power line.

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Marie rocked her body and held her knees tight to her chest as she apathetically listened in on Xavier and Magneto’s exchange. They spoke with familiarity, underlying hostility and an unidentified fondness. Obviously, Magneto had defeated Beast and Storm. In fact, it was safe to say, he had handed their asses to  them.

The weather witch had been easy to take down, using what little remains there were of the metal gate to subdue her and effectively and suffocate her till she passed out. Beast had been slightly more difficult. Magneto had refused to use his ability whilst facing the blue, furry man in classic hand to hand combat. He’d give it to him, the gorilla was strong- stronger than Magneto would like to admit. But his strength and towering size made him slower. Although Magneto had a severely muscular build, his agility was equal to Beast’s and his speed surpassed even the former mutant Mystic. The fight had lasted a good twenty minutes. In that time, the students were slowly released from their protective rooms and continued their day, with the specific orders from the professor ‘Do not leave the building or interfere with the event occurring outside. Do not be alarmed, there is no immediate danger.’ Some peeked through the windows of the mansion to watch, others didn’t. However they all obeyed.

By the end of it, Beast (also referred to as Hank) was face down on the floor and magneto had nothing but a few cuts and bruises to show for it. He straightened his jacket and stepped over his fallen opponent, gracefully proceeding inside the luxurious mansion. There was no need for him to be directed through the building, he remembered quite well (despite the changes, such as whispering students that shunned in fear as he passed) after all, he had helped create it.

Magneto watched from the corner of his eye as the girl rocked back and forth whilst curled in her arm chair. She was nervous.

He was surprised to find, it wasn’t him that made her so. In fact, a few minutes ago, the girl had used her newfound ability to ‘connect’ with him. The sensation was faint, but he could identify it; tingles rolling up his spine and a momentary euphoria sweeping through him. Had he been any other man, Magneto would have shuddered in pleasure. But this was Magneto we’re talking about. He merely pushed back, as he had done before, but not quite as forceful. That seemed to ease her a little.

And Marie found it ironic. Her would-be killer being the one she was most compelled to seek comfort from. She didn’t understand why, and that scared her.

“Phoenix and I have come to an agreement. I am to fulfill my end. Afterall, despite my unorthodox ways, I am a man of honour.” Magneto continued in conversation with Xavier.

“I am well aware of that. I merely wish to know your intentions. This is a school and I will not let you endanger that.” Xavier, despite being the kind, understanding and forgiving man that he was, had many flaws, and Eric always brought out the worst in him. Their history was complex, filled with brotherly compassion, resentment, pain and regret.

When Eric had waltzed in, he had been all too happy to use his telepathy to strike the man with blinding pain, shoving it into the bastard’s mind. The only telltale sign Eric allowed, to show how much it affected him was a deep crease of his brow. However, Marie was quick to remedy that by lowering the intensity of the telepathic link. She was getting good at this.

It took less than a second for Xavier to realise Marie was protecting the man, and dissatisfaction settled inside of him as he glanced at her lax form. Her attention was trained on something outside, eyes glazed as if oblivious to the world around her. A similar trait he had noticed in his brief confrontation with the Phoenix. Nevertheless, he centred himself.

“No harm will come to your students nor yourself. I am merely here for the girl. You will not be able to ensure her safety when the time comes. I can and I will.”

“She will be going nowhere with you.” Xavier’s voice became, sharp and his hostility returned.

“So selfish as always Charles. Have you asked what she wants?” A silence hung in the air as the two men challenged one another.

Finally, Xavier’s voice rang through the air, “Marie?”

At that her eyes sharpened with focus, her finger twitched. She had read him. Magneto. Erik. Would he do as he implied? Would he protect her? Earlier this morning she had beckoned for her knight in shining armour to return, the half-man half-feral to guard her, instead, a true monster had answered her call. A monster disguised as a man, a true killer with no regard or reservation to do unimaginable unpleasantries to whomever crosses him. Despite her discomfort to her reaction towards him, Marie knew he was necessary. He would do whatever needed to be done to protect her. And if Phoenix/Jean had hand picked him herself she would not argue. She just needed one thing, one thing that she had always known Wolverine could never give her. She needed all of him, his life to entwine with hers; like the last time at the statue of liberty. And that, she knew he was willing to give. Not just to save her life, but to kill her as well. Wolverine could never do that. He would never kill her. He loved her.

“With you… I’ll go.” Marie whispered.

Magneto’s eyes flashed with a predatory gleam, “We leave tomorrow.”