Post by magneto on Sept 7, 2006 7:28:25 GMT -5
The old man strode purposefully across the forest clearing, a guiding hand placed firmly on the womans shoulder. She needed guidance, more than ever now she needed guidance. The last moments of Charles Xavier played over in his mind again, the utter devastation that had consumed that quiet suburban home. She was very much in need of guidance.
Just not the sort Charles would have used.
His loyal subjects, those that had come with him, trailed after him casting questioning glances at the red-haired woman and at each other. All of them except the Juggernaut who was humming a faintly annoying tune to himself. With a wave of his hand he indicated that they should disperse back into the camp. There was a subject that needed addressing, one that could cause problems later on and the sooner it was dealt with, the sooner he could move forward with his plans.
He steered the shell of Jean Grey to a comfortable tree-stump and she sat. She had not spoken a word the entire journey back and Magneto guessed that her mind was still reeling from the enormity of what had happened. His was still dealing with it himself, in his own way.
Not all of his followers dispersed.
Pyro remained, lingering on the periphery of his awareness. Magneto had accepted the boy's offer to be his 'bodyguard' with a sort of detached humour that had gone over the literal Pyro's head. Magneto didn't really need people watching his back, but it made the boy feel important - stoked his ego, as it were.
"Why her?" he was asking, and there was an odd tone to his voice. "Why did you have to bring HER here?"
The older man turned to confront his fiery lieutenant.
"Because I will not turn away a fellow mutant that wished to aid our cause."
He stepped away from the stunned woman and moved a short distance away. She seemed stable, but given recent events he wasn't entirely sure and wasn't about to leave her to her own devices.
"She is with us now Pyro, and will stand by us when bring down Worthington."
The boy stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "She screws up my head," he muttered, just barely loud enough for Magneto to hear him. "I thought I'd got away from all that."
Then he shifted his eyes to look up at Magneto.
"Is it true what I heard? Xavier's dead?"
Magneto nodded and just the barest hint of sadness touched his voice, "yes, it is true, Professor Charles Xavier has died for his dream."
The loss of his old friend and adversary left an empty place inside him. Charles had striven for mutant harmony, the coexistence of homo-sapiens and homo-superior. Ultimately he had given his life for that cause. Now there was no champion for peace.
A great man and a great obstacle had been lifted from his path.
Peace had ultimately failed. Now it was time for war.
"However," he continued, "our dream lives on, in me, in you, in everybody gathered here in this forest ready to make a stand against the plague of humanity."
He glanced over his shoulder at Jean.
"It lives in her too."
Pyro folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of defiance. "She's not to be trusted," he said. He'd heard the reports of what had happened from Juggernaut and Callisto and more than anything, it had reawakened old nightmares.
"She's not to be trusted," he repeated. "She'll betray you."
"No, she won't," the older man disagreed, "Charles tried to control her, contain her and lock away that part of her that makes her great. Much as he had done to you. With us she is free to be herself, to embrace her powers. Jean Grey will not betray me because she will have no reason to."
Magneto knew that Pyro had become jealous of Callisto since her arrival even though that jealousy was baseless. Callisto had an army at her disposal. Magneto needed that army to carry out his plans and so for the time being allowed her to do as she pleased.
Pyro had much potential however if only he could temper it with wisdom.
"As for trusted, whoever said one needed trust to share a common cause?"
"You want to know what I share with her?" Pyro was getting angry, never a good thing in Magneto's experience. "Her dreams. Her nightmares. She forged some sort of freaky connection with me back at the Institute. I've seen what she'll become, I KNOW."
The boy looked righteously indignant.
"What she will become?"
Magneto narrowed his eyes at the boy who still hadn't mastered his emotions properly.
"What she will become is a figurehead for our dream, an end to the tyranny of homo-sapiens. Charles was a fool to keep her bottled up all these years. With her power he could have made his dream a reality long before now, but do you know why he did not?"
There was a very brief pause.
"Fear. He allowed his fear of her to master his reason, are you the same John?" He used the boys given name like a weapon, "are you so afraid of her power you will let it blind you to the possibilities it presents?"
He scowled. "I'm not afraid," he said, despite the fact that he very obviously was. "I'm not afraid of anything." He was feeling faintly displaced, not an uncommon feeling for him. In his life, it had always been the same. Get yourself into a good position, then have it all thrown off balance.
He'd come to deeply respect Magneto and had thought the old man had developed some sort of friendship with him. Now, though, he doubted. And doubt for John Allerdyce was a powerful emotion indeed.
Magneto put a hand on the boys shoulder and nodded.
"Good Pyro, good, that is the sort of strength we need!"
He gave a tiniest flicker of a smile. Behind him, Jean was starting to look around in a sort of dazed bewilderment; whatever shock it was that she had suffered was clearly starting to wear off. He'd need to be there to talk to her, guide her along.
"Now, there is work to be done, we need to send a message to these poison makers, the first of many. Will you be my messenger?"
Of course I will be your messenger." He was eager, perhaps a little too keen, but he was young yet and would learn. "What is it that you want me to do?"
His green eyes finally moved off of the woman and fixed on his hero. "What do you want?"
"This 'cure' will be distributed from clinics Worthington owns. There will be crowds, mutants, protesters, police, an audience to witness your work. Go to New York, to the clinic there and burn it. Burn it to the very foundations. Let the ashes on the wind be our voice to humanity that we will not stand by while they exterminate us, that they cannot cure us, because there is no cure for the future."
The inexperienced might have mistaken the glint in the old man's eyes for fanatical madness. They would have been wrong. It was the fires of conviction, of absolute faith in his cause.
"And WE are the future!"
Just not the sort Charles would have used.
His loyal subjects, those that had come with him, trailed after him casting questioning glances at the red-haired woman and at each other. All of them except the Juggernaut who was humming a faintly annoying tune to himself. With a wave of his hand he indicated that they should disperse back into the camp. There was a subject that needed addressing, one that could cause problems later on and the sooner it was dealt with, the sooner he could move forward with his plans.
He steered the shell of Jean Grey to a comfortable tree-stump and she sat. She had not spoken a word the entire journey back and Magneto guessed that her mind was still reeling from the enormity of what had happened. His was still dealing with it himself, in his own way.
Not all of his followers dispersed.
Pyro remained, lingering on the periphery of his awareness. Magneto had accepted the boy's offer to be his 'bodyguard' with a sort of detached humour that had gone over the literal Pyro's head. Magneto didn't really need people watching his back, but it made the boy feel important - stoked his ego, as it were.
"Why her?" he was asking, and there was an odd tone to his voice. "Why did you have to bring HER here?"
The older man turned to confront his fiery lieutenant.
"Because I will not turn away a fellow mutant that wished to aid our cause."
He stepped away from the stunned woman and moved a short distance away. She seemed stable, but given recent events he wasn't entirely sure and wasn't about to leave her to her own devices.
"She is with us now Pyro, and will stand by us when bring down Worthington."
The boy stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "She screws up my head," he muttered, just barely loud enough for Magneto to hear him. "I thought I'd got away from all that."
Then he shifted his eyes to look up at Magneto.
"Is it true what I heard? Xavier's dead?"
Magneto nodded and just the barest hint of sadness touched his voice, "yes, it is true, Professor Charles Xavier has died for his dream."
The loss of his old friend and adversary left an empty place inside him. Charles had striven for mutant harmony, the coexistence of homo-sapiens and homo-superior. Ultimately he had given his life for that cause. Now there was no champion for peace.
A great man and a great obstacle had been lifted from his path.
Peace had ultimately failed. Now it was time for war.
"However," he continued, "our dream lives on, in me, in you, in everybody gathered here in this forest ready to make a stand against the plague of humanity."
He glanced over his shoulder at Jean.
"It lives in her too."
Pyro folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of defiance. "She's not to be trusted," he said. He'd heard the reports of what had happened from Juggernaut and Callisto and more than anything, it had reawakened old nightmares.
"She's not to be trusted," he repeated. "She'll betray you."
"No, she won't," the older man disagreed, "Charles tried to control her, contain her and lock away that part of her that makes her great. Much as he had done to you. With us she is free to be herself, to embrace her powers. Jean Grey will not betray me because she will have no reason to."
Magneto knew that Pyro had become jealous of Callisto since her arrival even though that jealousy was baseless. Callisto had an army at her disposal. Magneto needed that army to carry out his plans and so for the time being allowed her to do as she pleased.
Pyro had much potential however if only he could temper it with wisdom.
"As for trusted, whoever said one needed trust to share a common cause?"
"You want to know what I share with her?" Pyro was getting angry, never a good thing in Magneto's experience. "Her dreams. Her nightmares. She forged some sort of freaky connection with me back at the Institute. I've seen what she'll become, I KNOW."
The boy looked righteously indignant.
"What she will become?"
Magneto narrowed his eyes at the boy who still hadn't mastered his emotions properly.
"What she will become is a figurehead for our dream, an end to the tyranny of homo-sapiens. Charles was a fool to keep her bottled up all these years. With her power he could have made his dream a reality long before now, but do you know why he did not?"
There was a very brief pause.
"Fear. He allowed his fear of her to master his reason, are you the same John?" He used the boys given name like a weapon, "are you so afraid of her power you will let it blind you to the possibilities it presents?"
He scowled. "I'm not afraid," he said, despite the fact that he very obviously was. "I'm not afraid of anything." He was feeling faintly displaced, not an uncommon feeling for him. In his life, it had always been the same. Get yourself into a good position, then have it all thrown off balance.
He'd come to deeply respect Magneto and had thought the old man had developed some sort of friendship with him. Now, though, he doubted. And doubt for John Allerdyce was a powerful emotion indeed.
Magneto put a hand on the boys shoulder and nodded.
"Good Pyro, good, that is the sort of strength we need!"
He gave a tiniest flicker of a smile. Behind him, Jean was starting to look around in a sort of dazed bewilderment; whatever shock it was that she had suffered was clearly starting to wear off. He'd need to be there to talk to her, guide her along.
"Now, there is work to be done, we need to send a message to these poison makers, the first of many. Will you be my messenger?"
Of course I will be your messenger." He was eager, perhaps a little too keen, but he was young yet and would learn. "What is it that you want me to do?"
His green eyes finally moved off of the woman and fixed on his hero. "What do you want?"
"This 'cure' will be distributed from clinics Worthington owns. There will be crowds, mutants, protesters, police, an audience to witness your work. Go to New York, to the clinic there and burn it. Burn it to the very foundations. Let the ashes on the wind be our voice to humanity that we will not stand by while they exterminate us, that they cannot cure us, because there is no cure for the future."
The inexperienced might have mistaken the glint in the old man's eyes for fanatical madness. They would have been wrong. It was the fires of conviction, of absolute faith in his cause.
"And WE are the future!"