In the X-Men Villa, the atmosphere was both tense and calm. The battle against Chthon was over, but the aftershocks of the conflict lingered. As the group settled into the spacious living room, Tony Stark sat hunched over a sleek tablet, rapidly scrolling through pages of data he had accessed from the internet. Bruce Banner sat next to him, peering at the screen with a furrowed brow, periodically muttering observations while adjusting his own device.
"There's definitely some significant differences between the universes," Tony muttered, his fingers flying across the touchscreen. "But damn, the way this world treats mutants… it's like humanity here just can't catch a break."
"Yeah," Bruce responded thoughtfully, "even some of the technology here seems a bit… behind. There's a whole set of societal structures in place that rely on keeping mutants oppressed."
Max, who had been standing by the large bay windows, turned away from the peaceful view of the villa's garden and walked over to Mordo, who stood by the fireplace. The warmth of the flames danced across their faces, but the conversation between them carried a more somber tone.
"Mordo," Max began, crossing his arms, "now that we've crossed into this universe, do you think it's time for this world to have a Sorcerer's Order of its own? I mean, we know the challenges they face, and it seems clear that they need some kind of magical guardianship."
Mordo raised an eyebrow, his posture rigid as always. "The laws of the multiverse are delicate, Max. Just because we've breached their dimension doesn't mean it's time to impose our ways upon them. This is something I must discuss with the Sorcerer Supreme."
Max nodded, considering the implications. "I understand. But maybe the Sorcerer Supreme should consider assigning you here, at least temporarily. You could start building an Order to protect this universe from the magical threats it clearly isn't prepared to face."
Mordo looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's not impossible, but the decision isn't mine alone. I'll make the recommendation, but there are risks. With every new Sorcerer's Order, the balance of power shifts slightly. The X-Men and mutants here already face enough conflict without a magical war thrown into the mix."
As Mordo mulled over Max's suggestion, Max turned his attention to Magneto, who stood by a corner of the room, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. Magneto's posture was powerful, yet his face betrayed his internal turmoil.
"Magneto," Max began gently, "there's something I need to tell you about Wanda."
Magneto's gaze snapped toward Max, eyes narrowing. "What about my daughter?"
Max hesitated for a moment, knowing how delicate this conversation was going to be. "Wanda… she's fused with another version of herself from another universe. She's no longer just the Wanda you knew, and she's decided not to return to this world. She's… happy where she is."
Magneto's expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else beneath his usual sternness—pain. "She's my daughter," he said quietly, though his voice still carried weight. "But I suppose her power was always more than anyone could control. Even me." He paused, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Perhaps it's for the best. She was always at risk here. And… she deserves peace."
Max watched Magneto closely, seeing the battle of emotions play out behind his eyes. Though the mutant leader was formidable, there was a father beneath that armor who feared for his daughter's safety and future.
At that moment, Nightcrawler teleported into the room with his usual dramatic flair. "What's this? Five new Magnetos?" he exclaimed, glancing around at Max, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Mordo, each wearing copies of Magneto's helmet.
Tony couldn't help himself. "Yeah, it's a Magneto-themed party. Didn't get the memo, did ya?"
Nightcrawler gave a toothy grin. "Where's my helmet then? If we're going all in, I should get one too."
Max smirked. "Next time, Kurt."
As the room filled with light laughter, the door swung open, and the Professor entered with the rest of the X-Men following behind him. His presence commanded respect, and the room quieted.
"Max," Professor Xavier greeted warmly, wheeling himself forward. "And of course, Tony Stark, Dr. Banner, Captain Rogers, and Master Mordo," he added, nodding to each in turn. "I hear you've all been through quite the ordeal."
Tony leaned back on the couch, arms draped casually over the backrest. "Nothing we couldn't handle. You know, a little fight against ancient interdimensional evil, world-saving machines, the usual."
The Professor smiled, but his expression remained serious. "I'm grateful for your help. Apocalypse, Chthon… these are enemies we've dealt with for far too long. It will take years to rebuild, especially with the damage the N'Garai inflicted worldwide."
Bruce, always the scientist, leaned in, curiosity evident in his eyes. "How are you planning to handle Apocalypse? He's incredibly powerful, even without Chthon."
Xavier's face darkened slightly. "It will not be easy. We will contain him, keep him under observation. We've dealt with his power before. The priority now is to repair the damage to our world."
Steve, ever the strategist, chimed in. "You'll need a lot of help. The world governments—how are they handling all this?"
Professor Xavier sighed deeply. "The governments are in chaos. The mutant population has always been a political target, but now, after the N'Garai attack, tensions have escalated. We will be negotiating for peace for many years to come."
Mordo nodded thoughtfully. "It seems your world is not unlike ours, Professor. Strife is a constant, and the balance of power is fragile."
Xavier smiled softly, though his eyes remained clouded with the weight of responsibility. "Indeed, but we will persevere. The X-Men always do."
Max, feeling the moment was right, exchanged a glance with his team. "We've done what we can here, Professor. But it's time for us to return to our world. You and your X-Men can handle Apocalypse from here."
The Professor nodded in understanding. "Of course. Your assistance has been invaluable, Max. We owe you a great debt."
With that, Max turned to the rest of his group. "Let's head back."
With a flick of his wrist, Max opened a swirling portal, the familiar shimmer of magic lighting up the room. One by one, the group stepped through, returning to their home universe. Mordo lingered for a moment, casting a final look at the X-Men before he followed.
Back in the familiar surroundings of the Stark Tower, Max, Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Pepper gathered in the lounge area. Mordo had already returned to Kamar-Taj, leaving them to decompress after the mission.
Tony flopped onto the couch, reaching for a glass of whiskey. "You know," he began, swirling the amber liquid, "I spent some time looking up the history of mutants in that other universe. And let me tell you, it's a horror show."
Bruce and Steve listened intently as Tony continued, his voice heavy with a rare somberness. "The way the governments treated mutants over there… it's worse than anything we've seen. Worse than how the Nazis treated the Jews during World War II."
Tony set the glass down, his gaze distant as he recalled what he had read. "Mutants were hunted, persecuted, locked away in camps. They were treated like subhumans, experimented on, forced to register like they were dangerous weapons. One year before the N'Garai, they were hunted down by Sentinels—giant machines designed to exterminate them. The government sanctioned it, funded it."
Steve clenched his jaw. "That sounds... beyond inhumane."
Tony nodded grimly. "Yeah. In some places of their world, mutants were rounded up and sent to places like Genosha—a mutant concentration camp. Thousands died there, just because of who they were."
Bruce let out a breath, clearly shaken. "That's… horrifying."
"It doesn't stop there," Tony added, his voice growing darker. "In some instances, mutants were wiped out entirely in some other places. Genocide, led by fear and ignorance."
Max, standing by the window, stared out at the New York skyline. He felt the weight of what Tony was saying, the echoes of another universe where people like Wanda and Pietro would have been treated as monsters.
Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It wasn't just one bad government or one evil regime. It was a global effort. Entire countries turned on mutants. They used them, exploited them, and then cast them aside when they didn't need them anymore."
Steve shook his head, the reality of it settling in. "And we thought our world had it bad."
Tony took a long drink from his glass before setting it down with a decisive thud. "They survived, though. The X-Men—they fought back, and they kept fighting. But the things they went through… it makes what we deal with here look like a walk in the park."
The room fell into a heavy silence, each of them lost in their thoughts about the other world they had just left behind. The horrors of mutant persecution, the battles fought for survival, and the darkness that humanity was capable of in any universe.