As the others began to disperse, Magneto couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. He had been fighting for mutant rights for most of his life, and he had seen the worst of humanity. He had seen the hate, the fear, the prejudice. And he knew that this was just the beginning.
He also knew that he couldn't do this alone.
"Charles," he said, turning to the old telepath. "We need to talk."
Charles nodded, a look of grim understanding on his face. "I know, Erik. I know."
The two of them left the meeting room, the others already busy with their own tasks. They walked in silence for a while, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air.
"I never thought it would come to this," Charles said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "I always hoped that we could find a way to live in peace, to coexist with the humans. But it seems that was just a dream."
"It was a good dream, Charles," Magneto said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "But it was just a dream. The reality is that we are different, and they will never accept us for who we are. They will always fear us, always hate us, always try to destroy us."
"I know," Charles said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "But I still have to hope. I still have to believe that there is a way."
"And I will do whatever it takes to protect our people," Magneto said, a look of cold, hard fury on his face. "Whatever it takes."
The two of them reached a small, private room, a place where they could talk without being overheard. Magneto closed the door behind them, the lock clicking into place with a final, ominous sound.
"We need to prepare for the worst," Magneto said, a look of grim determination on his face. "We need to be ready for a war."
"A war that we cannot win, Erik," Charles said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "We are outnumbered, outgunned. We don't stand a chance."
"We have the Illuminati," Magneto said, a look of grim determination on his face. "We have Stark, Richards, Doom. We have their technology, their resources. We have a fighting chance."
"Maybe," Charles said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "But at what cost? How many of us will have to die? How many of them will have to die? Is it worth it?"
"It isn't like we are helpless there either. Most of our people already live in Albion, under the protection of Arthuria. Even if they live like refugees, they are safe there. I can't imagine anyone daring to target them," Magneto said with a slight smile. Joining hands with Arthuria was perhaps the best decision he had made in the past few decades.
Not only had that allowed him to gather his people together, to lift them up from the shadows and give them a somewhat normal life, but it also allowed him to far more easily recruit those of them with combat-worthy mutations and train them in the open.
Even beyond that, it was Arthuria who crowned him King of Mutants and gave him the chance to infiltrate a UN meeting and hold the world's leaders hostage to gain benefits and protections for his people, allowing him to save many and bring them to Albion for safety.
Not to mention that the Illuminati also came from her.
It only reinforced the idea that humans were unworthy. For decades, they had fought against him; the only person willing to side with him and his people was an inhuman goddess of mythical power.
Humans were weak, and so they feared mutants, feared homo-superior. Only those who were strong, those who stood apart from the rabble, could see through the fear and see the future.
The future that belonged to his people. To Homo-Superior.
"I just wish there was another way," Charles said, a look of sadness in his eyes. "I wish we could find a way to live in peace, to coexist with the humans."
Magneto looked at Charles, a look of pity in his eyes. "You are a good man, Charles. But you are also a fool. You want to reason with them, to appeal to their humanity. But they have no humanity, not for us. They see us as a threat, as a disease, and they will do whatever it takes to eradicate us. We cannot reason with them. We can only fight them."
"Fight them with what?" Charles asked, a look of desperation in his eyes. "With our powers? With our lives? We are a minority, Erik. A tiny minority. We can't win a war against the entire world."
"We don't have to win a war against the entire world," Magneto said, a look of cold, hard fury on his face. "We just have to make them see that we are not to be trifled with. We just have to make them see that the cost of attacking us is too high. We just have to make them see that we are not afraid to die for our freedom."
Charles didn't answer him; he just let out a sad sigh for his friend, who was still lost to him, and for his own dream, which seemed ever more impossible.
Magneto could guess his thoughts. "Don't despair, Charles. You have to remember that most people are sheep; they just follow the flow. If we hit the top, those who lead the hate, the rest won't rise up; they will accept what is to come."
Magneto had long since given up any hope of replacing humanity with his own kind. It just wasn't possible. Reed and Tony, as well as Doom, were all top scientists who had offered their own insights.
The number of mutations was rising, and it was getting faster and faster. As long as nothing changed, the future did indeed belong to his people. What he had to do was to make sure the current humans didn't do anything to change what should be, the next step in human evolution.
Charles took comfort in that; he knew Erik was right. Most people were indeed good; it was just the few in power who were the problem... he just feared that targeting them would give rise to new people who feared them, who hated them, and started an endless cycle.
It might be better to do as Erik said, to just remove the troublemakers and allow the rest to live in peace. To not have to fear the hatred of their neighbors, but the wrath of Magneto should they try to act on that hatred.
Whether or not they would target Albion was unknown, but if they didn't, the best target for them... would be my school," Charles finally said, accepting the reality of the current situation, the current crisis.
The world had two safe places for mutants, Albion and his school, and if Albion couldn't be touched, then his students were in danger.
And beyond all this talk about the future, and responses to this, the most important thing was his students, he would allow nothing to happen to them.
"I need to get back to the school, I have been away for too long," he finally said. He knew his role with the Illuminati was important, a bridge towards his goal and his dream.
Still, he couldn't feel at ease being away for so long.
"Fine," Magneto said, a look of understanding on his face. "I will contact you as soon as we know more."
The two old friends, once rivals, and now allies, parted ways, a silent understanding between them. Magneto went to prepare for war, to rally his people, to gather his forces. Charles went to protect his students, to shield them from the coming storm.
He knew that this was just the beginning. He knew that there would be more challenges, more threats, more dangers. But he also knew that he would not face them alone. He had Erik, he had the Illuminati, and he had his students.
He had to protect them, no matter the cost.
-----
Meanwhile, Tony had called up Reed and Doom and brought them to one of his private labs deep within the headquarters. The three geniuses, each a titan of intellect and innovation in their own right, now faced a problem that wasn't about creation, but about deconstruction.
"So, let's see what Fury's so spooked about," Tony said, waving a hand. The central holographic display in the lab flickered to life, not with the schematics for a new suit or a theoretical engine, but with what intelligence SHIELD had managed to scrape together on the "Sentinel" project.
The data was sparse, a patchwork of fragmented files, intercepted transmissions, and blurry satellite photos. What it revealed, however, was enough to make the room feel several degrees colder.
The holographic model of a Sentinel coalesced in the center of the room. It was immense, a thirty-foot-tall colossus of stark, utilitarian design. Its form was humanoid, but heavily armored, with broad shoulders and a powerful chest. Its head was featureless, save for a single, glowing red optic sensor that seemed to stare into their very souls. Its hands were massive, designed not for finesse, but for brute force.
"The basic design is... uninspired," Reed Richards said, his fingers flying across a holographic interface, dissecting the Sentinel's schematics layer by layer. "Standard bipedal locomotion, hydraulics-based muscle structure, a central processing unit protected by layers of redundant armor. From a purely engineering standpoint, it's crude."
"It's not meant to win design awards, Richards," Tony retorted, zooming in on the chest cavity. Like his own design, this place housed the core of the machine, though it didn't hold an Arc reactor; it held something different, something... alien in design. "It's meant to be a weapon, a thinking gun designed specifically to hunt and kill mutants. Look at this power source. It's not a reactor I recognize. It's..."
"A transceiver," Doom filled the gap, causing the others to look towards him. "It's built on the technology of those aliens from New York; they built a network to transmit orders and power. I have made use of that technology myself," he said with a proud smirk.
"Wait, you built your own network?" Tony asked, a little surprised. While he knew Doom had gotten his hands on some alien tech, he hadn't heard about this.
But he didn't have the chance to think more about that as Reed continued to speak, not focusing on the power source, but on its body. "Fury was right, the main chassis is built from a composite of the alien exoskeletons and a proprietary polymer Trask developed. Its molecular structure is... chaotic, almost organic in its complexity. It's not a metal in the traditional sense, which means Erik's powers would have little to no effect."
Tony pointed to the arms, which were currently retracted, but he had the model pull them out. "And that's not all. They come fully loaded: plasma cannons in the forearms, missile launchers in the shoulders, a chest-mounted energy emitter, and... this." He pointed to the hands. "Hands can emit a type of electrical discharge specifically designed to disrupt the nervous system of mutants. And if that's not enough, they can inhibit the X-gene."
The more they pored over the data, the more they understood the seriousness of it, the danger of this... more so since it was clear that Trask had done everything he could to ensure nothing could stop this.
(End of chapter)
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