Two weeks had passed since the incident with Kingpin, and now, deep within Magneto's base, the air carried a quiet tension. Sitting at his desk, Magneto carefully read through a report handed to him by a young mutant, his eyes scanning every detail with sharp intensity. The room remained still except for the occasional flicker of candlelight reflecting off his polished helmet.
A soft knock interrupted the silence before Mystique entered the room. Her yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light as she took in the scene before her.
"You asked for me, Erik?" she said, her voice as smooth as ever.
Without looking up immediately, Magneto gestured dismissively to the mutant holding the report. The young man gave a quick nod before swiftly exiting, leaving the two alone. For a moment, Magneto said nothing, the silence stretching between them like a drawn wire. Mystique, ever patient, observed him, waiting. But as the seconds passed and the silence persisted, she finally spoke—or rather, attempted to.
Before she could utter a word, Magneto finally spoke, his tone calm yet weighted. "There was an attack at one of my compounds a month ago."
Mystique, ever composed, tilted her head slightly but otherwise remained still. "Which one?" she asked.
"A compound in Germany," he replied, finally meeting her gaze.
She studied him carefully, her expression unreadable. "Do you know who did it? Or why?"
He let out a quiet hum, his fingers tapping against the wooden desk. "Who, indeed?" he mused before standing up, floating slightly as he descended from his elevated seat to stand beside her. "That compound housed a powerful mutant. One whose power could change everything—but with so little control."
Mystique's sharp gaze didn't waver. "And whoever did this?"
"Left no survivors," Magneto stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "They didn't waste any time getting their prize."
A shadow flickered across Mystique's face. "Do you think it was the humans?"
A thin smirk ghosted across Magneto's lips, though it lacked any true amusement. "Although I despise them and would like to think so… no, Raven. This was the work of mutants."
For a brief moment, something flashed in his eyes—something Mystique could have sworn was rage, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. His voice remained smooth, unwavering.
"The only way something like this could have happened is if they knew what was down there… who was down there."
Mystique's body stiffened, the meaning of his words weighing heavily in the air. "And who was down there?" she pressed.
Magneto didn't answer right away. He simply turned his back to her, looking at the metallic walls of the base as if lost in thought. Then, finally, he spoke. "Someone important, as I have said previously. And I want you to investigate this. Find out who it was."
Mystique gave a slow nod, her mind already working through the implications of his words. "And when I find them?"
The entire base seemed to groan as the metal shifted around them, a clear indication to Magneto's growing intensity and irritation. He turned his gaze back to her, his voice quiet yet laced with raw power.
"Oh, I'll teach them just how dangerous it is to take upon that which was not meant for them… as I rip the very iron from their blood."
As Mystique stepped out of Magneto's base, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The weight of the conversation lingered in her mind, and she knew she was playing a very dangerous game—a deadly one, if Erik ever found out. But he wouldn't, would he?
Orienting herself, she shifted focus to the other reason Magneto had summoned her. Beyond hunting down those responsible for the destruction of his compound—an ironic mission, given her own involvement—there was something else. One of his mutants had discovered another equally dangerous figure who had been set loose a while ago almost two and a half months now. And now, that figure was making his way toward Bayville.
Reaching into her pocket, Mystique pulled out the photograph Magneto had handed her before she left. Her sharp yellow eyes took in the image of a towering behemoth clad in thick red armor, his muscles bulging beneath its weight. His footprints alone dug deep into the earth as he moved forward, an unstoppable force incarnate.
She smirked. 'Juggernaut.'
Magneto wanted him recruited—to bring him into the fold and strengthen their cause. But Mystique had other ideas.
She slipped the picture away and began moving again, a plan forming in her mind. If played right, this could work in her favor. Oh, this could work indeed.
As she walked, her lips curled into a sly grin. But first, there was another stop to make—another loose end to tie up. She had a little something to bring to her little witch.
With that thought, she adjusted her course, heading toward the Brotherhood's current hideout.
______
Location: Classified Military Bunker
The room was dimly lit, save for the overhead lights casting a glow on the polished metal table in the center. Around it sat men in uniforms, their insignias marking them as high-ranking officials from various sectors—military, intelligence, and government oversight. A hushed silence filled the air, thick with tension, until one man finally spoke.
"Gentlemen, we all know why we are here, do we not?"
His voice carried authority, and his steely gaze swept across the room. General Nathaniel Ryker, a veteran with decades of service, leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. His voice remained even, but there was no mistaking the edge of concern beneath it.
"The mutant threat is growing. If left unchecked, they will be the downfall of humanity."
"This—" Ryker gestured to a footage,"—was the aftermath of a confrontation between mutants. Not terrorists. Not foreign invaders. Just two factions of their kind fighting among themselves. And we—Homo sapiens—were caught in the crossfire. Over a hundred civilians dead. Hundreds more injured. The damage? Billions. This is not an isolated incident."
The footage continued. Across the world, mutants demonstrated their abilities—some lifting cars with a thought, others walking through walls, some bending fire and ice to their will. The screen cut to a group of terrified officers in a police precinct, backed into a corner by an unidentifiable mutant whose mere presence warped the walls around him.
One of the men, a colonel from U.S. Military Intelligence, shifted in his seat. "Yes, they do need to be kept in line. But let's not forget, General—some of them have fought against Magneto and his kind. The X-Men have been instrumental in preventing mutant-led wars."
Ryker exhaled sharply and gave a begrudging nod. "Ah, yes, the Professor Xavier. While I must admit his vision is admirable, there is still a need to take caution against their kind. You don't know when they might just snap and decide they don't want to stay quiet anymore."
A voice from across the table scoffed. "What do you expect when most of them are hunted like animals? Like filth?"
All eyes turned to the speaker—a younger officer, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Before anyone could respond, another man leaned forward, his presence imposing.
"Because they are abominations."
A cold silence followed his words. The speaker, a man in a dark suit, adjusted his tie before continuing. His sharp, calculating gaze swept across the room as if daring anyone to challenge him.
General Ryker, seemingly unbothered by the bluntness, nodded. "Ah, yes. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the man who will help us take back control from these mutants."
The figure stepped forward into the light, his presence now unmistakable. Some men shift uncomfortably in their seats, while others sat in quiet approval.
"May I introduce to you all—Dr. Bolivar Trask."
A murmur rippled through the room as Trask clasped his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, he spoke.
"The Homo superior…" He said the term like it was poison on his tongue. "That is what they call themselves, isn't it? The next step in evolution. The rightful inheritors of this planet. And what, pray tell, does that make us? The common cold? The Neanderthals awaiting extinction?"
His words hung heavy in the air.
"Let me be very clear. Mutants are not the next step in evolution. They are a genetic infection that has begun to corrupt the body of humanity. And if left unchecked, that infection will spread, destroying everything we have built. Our laws. Our institutions. Our entire species."
The screen shifted to show mutants in positions of power—corporate CEOs, politicians, scientists.
"Some of them work in silence, infiltrating our governments, our corporations. Others?" The footage now displayed Magneto lifting the Golden Gate Bridge.
"They do not hide. They know their strength. And they have no qualms about replacing us."
One of the men, an older senator, leaned forward. "What do you propose, Doctor?"
Trask smiled, a cold and calculated expression. He turned to General Ryker and nodded. The general pressed a button on the console before him, and the lights dimmed. A new schematic appeared on the screen.
Towering, humanoid machines stood in rigid formation, their gleaming metal exteriors adorned with the unmistakable red optics that would soon become synonymous with fear.
Trask spread his hands, his voice filled with an almost evangelical certainty.
"The Sentinel Program."
The men leaned in, taking in the intricate designs, the complex weapon systems.
"These machines will allow us to take back control. Using advanced mutant-tracking technology, they will identify and monitor mutant activity across the globe. Should any mutant step out of line, they will be neutralized before they can pose a threat."
He continued, his voice gaining momentum.
"Each Sentinel will be equipped with adaptive combat algorithms, capable of countering any mutant ability. They will function as deterrents at first, forcing mutants into compliance. But should they resist… well, the Sentinels are not programmed for mercy."
Another man, a high-ranking intelligence officer, asked, "And what about mutants like Xavier's X-Men? Those who work with us?"
Trask's smile didn't waver. "I have no interest in separating the 'good' mutants from the 'bad.' If a wolf is well-behaved, does that make it a dog? No. It remains a predator, only waiting for the day it decides to bite. The X-Men will either comply… or they will fall in line with the others."
The room was silent for a long moment. Then, General Ryker nodded.
"We'll need full government backing for this."
A senator spoke up. "Leave that to me. I'll push for emergency measures. If the public sees this as a necessary response to the mutant threat, they'll demand action."
Trask turned back to the schematics, watching as his vision unfolded before him. His voice was quiet, but filled with conviction.
"This is how we ensure the survival of Homo sapiens. The era of mutants is over."