X-Men Mission: Lone Sentinel 4
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xp_logsKyle comes across an entirely unknown member of the Brotherhood to his regret.
When Marvel Girl went down and the switchboard went off, it was clear that their plan, instead of flanking and containing the Brotherhood instead had fed them straight into an ambush. A bio-electric blast nearly took Kyle’s head off, forcing him to peel off his berserk charge at Magneto and regroup quickly.
Kyle growled as he rolled under the crackling electricity, glancing up to catch a glimpse of a man wielding whips that sizzled and crackled in the air. He spun and steeled himself for the pain of Senyaka's powers before he was launched off his feet by a blur of red and silver.
Instead of the bio-electric energy, it was pure shock as he was smashed back into a half fallen concrete wall hard enough to leave cracks. The figure was dressed in some kind of light armor, his face obscured behind a red opaque faceplate.
"Bad decision coming here, X-Man." The man's voice was distorted, and the armor blocked Kyle's senses, masking his smell, heartbeat and other indicators Kyle was used to relying on. A hammerblow landed next to his head, dealing a dozen minor cuts to his face from the shattered concrete.
"Sure." Kyle spat. He kicked his legs up to wrap one around this new threat's neck, and squeezed. "Making bad decisions is like my job. You?"
"You little asshole." He said, before crushing him back into the concrete.
Kyle could feel his leg bending back in a way it shouldn't, and flipped to relieve the strain. "Yep. Trained pro asshole." He wasn't sure he could be heard, not while being smashed into a wall. He came up under the red armored man and struck for the knees, trying to take him off balance.
The block was so fast it blurred, and to Kyle, it felt like he'd just kicked a metal lamppost full strength. As he hobbled back, the man stalked up to him. "I told you, X-Man. Bad decision." The strike caught Kyle in the mid-section and a pair of ribs all but crumbled under the force.
Kyle's howl was cut off by the broken rib pressing into his lungs. He spat, and the blood was lost in the red helmet of the man brutalizing him. "Fuck you." He grunted out. "You covering up something nasty in that hat? Bet you're ugly as fuck in there."
"Yeah, ugly as fuck." He caught the blow Kyle launched at him and with deliberate slowness, crushed the fingers of his right hand. "Ugly as fuck." The modulated voice repeated, as he used the broken hand as leverage to force the man to his knees.
He took one chance at resisting, felt the bones in his hand grind against each other and it jolted every nerve up and down Kyle's arm. Funny how such little bones could make everything scream all the way to his neck. None of the pain lessened as he was forced down to the ground, but it slid away in the briefest moment of a memory of another hand on his neck, forcing him to his knees.
Kyle swore, and struggled hard against the grip, senses overloaded in that second of bare skin and overwhelming smells. And then it broke, reality crashing back and the pain in his hand and arm too sharp to resist.
The man reached forward, grabbing Kyle by the forehead. "Good night, little X-Man." He shoved back brutally, driving Kyle's head down directly into the concrete. There was an audible wet crack as the back of his skull broke and Kyle's world went black.
"Erik, I said none of them were to be killed." Magneto's voice said in Erik the Red's earpiece.
"This one will heal. Trust me." He said, stepping over the body and the rapidly growing pool of blood from under Kyle's head.
***
“Wildchilde. If the X-Men needed a Scrappy-Doo he’s it. Enhanced physical abilities, claws, negligible healing factor. He’s what you’d get back if you outsourced Wolverine on the cheap to a third world supplier. He’s not that much of a threat, but he can get in the way.”
The was an undertone of menace in his voice. “I need to be head’s up on tactics, so I’ll handle him. We have… history. It will be good to put him back on the leash like he belongs.”
It comes down to Scott to try and bring down Magneto.
His team was going down all around him. It didn’t help that illusions were part of the mix, scrambling targets and making it impossible to tell where everyone was. Without the telepathic switchboard, their only hope of coordinating was to get the teleporters high up and call out the situation, but their comms had gone dead as well. They had only been on the ground for minutes and he was having a difficult time finding X-Men on their feet. What happened to the Brotherhood?
“Cyclops, I’m afraid your plan was… perhaps too ambitious. Don’t worry. I have no interest in taking the lives of my fellow mutants, no matter how misguided, but our mission here is far too important to allow you to delay us.” Magneto was less than twenty feet from him, having paused in tearing about the structure. He did a doubletake. This was not a man in his 90s. Even with the helmet on, at most, this was a powerful man in his vigorous 50s at most. He’d seen old pictures of him with the Professor, and it looked like he did in the 1980s.
There was no way, no chance that this could be the same man that Scott had faced on the battlefield so many times before, who had spent decades clashing with Charles, two opposing dreams that had driven friends apart, split families. Two dreams that had acted as poles around which the rest of mutantkind had gathered, dancing around like moths to a flame. It had been the conflict that had defined a generation, the war that had taken a friendship and made it something more, a rivalry that one day might compare with the epics.
But that was a concern for the future, for today Scott only had one concern, stopping the man before him, the man who looked like Magneto but couldn't be. "So, let me guess...electromagnets, or maybe gravity manipulation? Or...are you another kid of Magneto's who just decided to come out of the woodwork? You're obviously not the real Master off Magnetism so before I drag you off to whatever plastic hole SHIELD's prepared for you I'd like to know what you've done with him.
"If only, Cyclops. If that was the case, you might have a way to victory. But you know very well if I stand against you, you will lose." He said, almost pleasantly, like a teacher meeting a former student. "I assume you won't be smart and simply surrender, will you?"
"I know that the man you claim to be could beat me if he had to," Scott agreed, that almost friendly tone reflected in his voice, "but I also know that he's well, he's a lot more regal and controlled than you are. I mean all this is a little much kid. Why don't you pack it in before he shows up to wipe the floor with you for besmirching his good name."
"It's a shame Charles got his claws in you first. What an inspiration you could have been for our people." He clenched his hand and Scott was buffeted as four different metal objects hit him in succession. Magneto stepped forward, towards him as he reeled. "I really don't want to hurt you more than I have to."
It was confusing, it was almost as if here were really talking to Magneto, but he couldn't be. But then Scott's eyes had failed him before, so many times, in this world you could never really trust that your eyes weren't being fooled, that they weren't being fed false information. Despite himself Scott was becoming convinced that the man in front of him was actually Magneto. Ribs groan in protest as the man pulled himself up from his knees. "What an inspiration you could have been, could still be to our people. They'll follow you, they always have Erik. You could stop all this, find a path to walk that isn't going to leave them going the line of war again and again. Find a way for our people to not constantly have to look over their shoulders for the knife in the back, your way only ends with death or by making us the very thing you hate. What kind of life is that?"
"Scott, I wish you could see clearly. We are in a war and again and again, you choose to side with those who would destroy us. I could almost forgive you for that, considering your upbringing. But I know you." A piece of rebar caught him around the head and smashed him to the ground. Another chunk of metal hammered into his back as he tried to get up. "You're too smart not to see the truth. Except you choose not to. Because it scares you. And that, Cyclops... that I can't forgive you for."
The X-man could feel the tricky of warm blood running down the side of his face, those warm droplets of blood splattering on the floor next to him as blow after blow impacted on his flesh. Scott knew that if he could just focus enough he could counter them, blast away Magneto's weapons but there was no recourse, no break in the tempo of the attacks that gave him a chance to collect himself to do that. "You're right," Scott's voice was hoarse, filled with pain as his arms came up to try to protect his head from the man's relentless assault, "we are in a war, but it's not the one you think. We could destroy them, they could destroy us, it's a cycle that will never end if we let you get your way. We're in a war with ourselves, hope verse fear, and that's why you're going to lose in the end. Because you can scare people, you can make them despise one another, be terrified but in the end...in the end someone will always be there to stand against you. Someone will always show the world that you're nothing more than a hate-monger, and that's what you fear/ You've become no different from those you've hated all your life."
“And so you’ve been taught. But… today is going to be a different sort of lesson for you. I hope you draw your own conclusions from them. All of you.” A plate of metal wrapped around the upper half of Scott’s face like it was made out of tinfoil, and makeshift manacles of scrap metal trapped his hands together.
“Believe me or not. Just think about what you were asked to defend today.”
***
“I know it seems odd that Cyclops is near the bottom of the list of threats, but there’s a good reason. He’ll put himself on the firing line with Magneto. His sense of responsibility won’t allow him to do anything else. And without the rest of the team, his threat profile to Erik is limited.” He said. “Rightly so, he’ll gamble that if he can break down Magneto, he can reverse fortunes or at least force a stalemate. It’s the smart tactical thing to do, so Cyclops will have it tattooed on himself somewhere.”
“I am not concerned about my ability to handle Mister Summers.” Magneto said from the back of the room.
“Just be careful. He’s still capable of banking an optic blast off a dozen flying pieces of metal and taking you in the back of the head. If you go down, this whole plan comes apart. If something happens, Mastermind will be the backup, blinding him long enough for one of us to get back to your position.”
Jean-Phillipe has multiple surprises waiting for him as the last X-Man standing.
Bevatron had been near Marvel Girl when the green armored woman had taken her out. He’d tried to switch tactics, provide support, but she’d blown apart the roof underneath him and dropped him down a story. By the time he’d pulled himself back up, the only X-Men he could see still on his feet was Cyclops, facing down Magneto alone.
"Fuck." It was likely a measure of the desperateness of the situation that Jean-Phillipe had even abandoned the fluid blasphemy of Quebecois swearing that was his usual go-to in terms of profanity. Cyclops standing off against Magneto, the epitome of his past confronting his present, was the sort of nightmare that brought him awake in cold sweats even years after abandoning the Brotherhood for his cousin and the others at Xavier's. There was a brief thought that this could be another nightmare, but in the end it didn't matter if it was or wasn't, because his response would be the same. There was a gravity that pulled him inexorably toward the confrontation.
Senyaka had been tasked first with distracting the feral. Not the little hairy one, but the tall one, the twitchy one. It had been his first task, a successful task, but an easy one. His second - he could feel his second task's approach under his skin. He grinned behind the layers of cloth over his face, and let his whips coil back around his shoulders. He strode through the battle, seemingly unconcerned with dodging debris, and grasped at the air, coating his arm with the brilliant crackle of electricity. "Ah, the prodigal."
"The sadist," Jean-Phillipe replied, his lip curling in disdain. He was well aware of how much enjoyment his opponent took in toying with victims. Even this bit of egotistical posturing was the opening gambit of his mind games. This was a poor matchup for him, second only to perhaps Erik himself in terms of his power being almost a liability, but the Frenchman let none of that show on his face, or the desperation he felt at the sounds of combat beyond the man in front of him. He would need to close the gap, as Senyaka's whips would give him the advantage at range. Opening his mouth as if he were going to continue trading verbal barbs, Jean-Phillip shifted forward, using one foot to send a fantail of dirt and pebbles up at Senyaka's face and then dashing in behind it.
"Pathetic." Senyaka sneered behind his scarves. He had flinched, anyone would but the wraps hid all but the twist of his head. He uncoiled one whip, cracking it at Bevatron and laughed coldly. "I know what I am, prodigal. Mutant." He cracked the whip once, and then let it wrap around his forearm. "Freedom fighter." And then he grabbed at Jean-Phillipe's jacket. "And yes, sadist. I will enjoy your suffering."
"As if you are the only one who knows who and what you are." Jean-Phillipe spat the words contemptuously. He reached out to grab Senyaka's outfit in a mirroring move, then snapped his head forward at the other man's eyesocket. "Cul."
"And yet." Senyaka twisted out of the way of the strike, and one whip uncoiled from his arm to strike against Jean-Phillipe's back. "You don't know who you are. Magneto trained you. He gave you his time, and you repay him with this. If I was permitted, you would be dead." He jerked his arm back and the whip recoiled, sparking and crackling against the other man's skin. "Instead you will suffer."
He could feel the whips pulling at his own bioelectric energy, and Jean-Phillipe grimaced involuntarily. "You know what makes me suffer most?" he asked to cover the wince. "Your fucking self-important attempts at sounding philosophical." He lashed his foot at Senyaka's knee to collapse the other man's leg and break the hold the whip had on him.
Senyaka took a step back from the kick, casual and easy, and smiled, a slasher grin under the scarves. "Oh no, you create your own suffering. You could have been his right hand man, prodigal. You could have been great, and yet you are here, doing nothing for your people." He flicked his hand, and a whip wrapped itself around Jean-Philippe's neck. "You form your own pain, I am the messenger."
The pull was inexorable this time, as if Senyaka was putting a hand into his body and yanking the source of his power out bodily. Jean-Phillipe gasped as he reached for the whip, a struggle for breath. He couldn't master those involuntary reactions, but he would be damned if he would give the Sri Lankan anything beyond that. This Senyaka might not remember killing Yvette, but Jean-Phillipe remembered. He had made himself reread every summary of the desperate losing battle in the tunnels, the fight that had led to the end of a universe and the patchwork creation of a new one. "Nothing for my people?" he shot back rhetorically. "I am not the one giving the rest of the world yet more reason to hate and fear us. I no longer walk that path." Because of his cousin, his husband, and others.
A hard tug to the whip and Jean-Phillipe was pulled forward. Senyaka pressed gloved fingers to the other man's cheek and leaned in, voice a raspy purr. "They will always hate us. You know it, Bevatron. They hate us for our power, and our differences. They always have. How would you like your pain, prodigal son? Kneeling or lying in the dirt?"
"I do not-" And here Jean-Phillipe brought his folded elbow up between them, catching Senyaka on the point of the chin and enabling himself to clear some space from the obscene embrace. "-kneel for the likes of you, Senyaka. And I never will."
The other man reeled back, spat out a vile epithet and pulled back hard on the crackling whips. "Of course not. Who is it you kneel for, Bevatron?" He continued to pull the whips, dragging Jean-Phillipe back towards him. "Who is it that keeps you? Who has replaced the mission in your heart?" Behind his scarves, Senyaka's eyes went white, and he laughed darkly. "Oh, prodigal. I've toyed with you enough. Now you scream, and scream well until he arrives."
A frisson of panic ran down Jean-Phillipe's spine at that. There was only one person Senyaka would refer to as 'he' without context like that, and he belatedly realized he had lost focus on Cyclops' standoff with Magneto. And then he lost focus on everything but pain. It had felt like Senyaka was actually pulling the source of his power out before, but now it felt as if the other man was turning his body inside out through the whips. Electricity coursed up them, and when there was no electricity left for his body to provide, it began tugging at his life force.
The Frenchman could feel numbness in his fingertips, and black crept in at the edges of his vision. But just when it felt like unconsciousness would take him, the pull eased off. 'If I was permitted, you would be dead,' Senyaka had said. Jean-Phillipe wasn't sure if that was better, given his current state. Somehow, he kept his feet, even though it looked like a light breeze could knock him over. He refused to kneel. "I would not-" he panted. "-expect you to understand, Suvik." He chuckled raspily. "You love nothing but yourself and the pleasure you get from others' pain."
"Bevatron. You disappoint me. You used to accept a wide range of attitudes." Magneto said, hauling a shackled and blinded Cyclops behind him through his powers. "I failed you, ultimately. Finding you here. Defending... what they have asked you to defend. You're so much better than that."
This was almost note for note the sort of nightmare that still occasionally woke Jean-Phillipe at night. Scott at Erik's mercy, and him unable to effect any sort of impact on the situation. Senyaka standing to one side looking as though he had just achieved release was an unwelcomely disgusting addition, to be sure.
"Erik." If the only thing he had was his words, so be it. "You did not fail me. You taught me many things about my power and myself. But not everything."
"No, not everything. If I had, you would be standing with me today. Not defending... this." Magneto waved at Senyaka. "Bring him forward. Let's show Bevatron what the X-Men had him defend."
Magneto waved his arms as Jean-Phillipe was shoved forward. Walls and floors shuddered only Erik's power and he began to violently peel them away, tossing them to one side as he tore deeper and deeper into the facility. Finally, he pulled back his hand, and through his powers, three massive twenty foot tall robots were pulled into the air in front of them. They were bulky and shutdown, but the lines and shape were unmistakable. Sentinels.
"This lab you fought so hard to protect is producing robots with one purpose: to identify, hunt and eliminate mutants. This US government facility is creating weapons of genocide that its own government claims publicly are illegal. This is what your leaders sent you to defend, Bevatron."
Jean-Phillipe shook his head. Not that he disbelieved that the American government could build these sorts of machines. But the other implications... "Erik, if you truly believe that Scott Summers would knowingly bring X-Men to defend a facility creating these...monstrosities...then you do not understand him the way I know you do." It was possible Coulson had known, but from his brief interactions with the man, and his willingness to work with Clint Barton and others from the mansion, he doubted that as well.
"Oh Bevatron. Your excuse is that your leader defended a genocidal program because they didn't know? Does that kill less mutants? How many do they sacrifice for their hubris." Magento shook his head. "I'd hoped you had an open mind, but I see Xavier's words have compromised you. I won't support the status quo. I will not go lightly into a genocide for our people. One last chance, Bevatron. Come home. Fight for your people."
"You travel with this," Jean-Phillipe twisted his head toward Senyaka, "filth and you ask me to come home?" If it was just himself, he might have decided differently. As it was, he was tempted, sliding along a knife's edge. "I will not countenance a genocide either, Erik. Do I have concerns with how the X-Men operate?" His voice was ragged, the exhaustion of having been drained pulling at him. "Absolutely. But I can no longer follow the path you tread. I no longer -just- fight for my people."
"I have a husband." His mouth twitched upward in a wry smile. "I would have sent an invitation, but you did not leave a forwarding address.
"
"It's a shame that you've taken your personal happiness ahead of your duty, but sadly, that's what Xavier teaches, it seems." Magneto nodded and Senyaka wrestled JP to the ground "Drain him. Leave him behind. Zero, prepare the portal home. There's just one last matter to clear up. Avalanche." He said, moving over to confront the man.
Avalanche dipped his head, acknowledging Magneto even as he wondered why he was being singled out. "Ναί?"
Thick steel cables tore themselves free from the rubble and wrapped around Avalanche with a motion from Magneto.
"I was clear, Avalanche. No killing other mutants without my expression permission. And it would seem that you atomized your opponent. What do you have to say for yourself?"
“What? No — she is silica. Easy to reform,” Avalanche protested, suppressing the urge to fight the metal now holding him immobile. “She’s there.” He gestured with his chin toward the area where he’d fought Dust. “Just in pieces.”
"I am not so certain. So I will leave you for the X-Men. Say nothing, and if the woman reforms, we will retrieve you from whatever cell they try to bury you. If she doesn't-" He said, his tone dark. "If she doesn't or if you betray us, I assure you it will be the last time you see daylight. Mystique, now please."
At his words, there was a thunderous roar and fire roared up from the substructure, and most of the other half of the building collapsed under the explosion. "No trace of the lab remains. No research, no prototypes, no researchers. This is our first strike against these abominations and we will not rest until every last element of this program is dragged into the light and utterly destroyed. The humans will learn we will not tolerate anything that hints to a new genocide. Zero, it's time." He said, and the Brotherhood followed him through the glowing portal, in moments leaving nothing behind but rubble, Avalanche and a field full of beaten X-Men.
***
“You know almost more about Jean-Phillipe than I do. His powers and control have grown considerably since his time with the Brotherhood. He’s capable of putting out massive voltage if he gets an opportunity so you’ll need to tie him up quickly. I admit, I don’t love the idea of risking him being awake for the object lesion, Erik, but obviously it’s your decision.”
He shook his head “JP is a man who needs to believe. Believe in something. Right now, Cyclops is his idol and the X-Men are the unchallenged symbol of what is right and good in the world. Blowing that up, or at least shaking it, could take an X-Man out of the picture without our needing to do another thing.”
When Marvel Girl went down and the switchboard went off, it was clear that their plan, instead of flanking and containing the Brotherhood instead had fed them straight into an ambush. A bio-electric blast nearly took Kyle’s head off, forcing him to peel off his berserk charge at Magneto and regroup quickly.
Kyle growled as he rolled under the crackling electricity, glancing up to catch a glimpse of a man wielding whips that sizzled and crackled in the air. He spun and steeled himself for the pain of Senyaka's powers before he was launched off his feet by a blur of red and silver.
Instead of the bio-electric energy, it was pure shock as he was smashed back into a half fallen concrete wall hard enough to leave cracks. The figure was dressed in some kind of light armor, his face obscured behind a red opaque faceplate.
"Bad decision coming here, X-Man." The man's voice was distorted, and the armor blocked Kyle's senses, masking his smell, heartbeat and other indicators Kyle was used to relying on. A hammerblow landed next to his head, dealing a dozen minor cuts to his face from the shattered concrete.
"Sure." Kyle spat. He kicked his legs up to wrap one around this new threat's neck, and squeezed. "Making bad decisions is like my job. You?"
"You little asshole." He said, before crushing him back into the concrete.
Kyle could feel his leg bending back in a way it shouldn't, and flipped to relieve the strain. "Yep. Trained pro asshole." He wasn't sure he could be heard, not while being smashed into a wall. He came up under the red armored man and struck for the knees, trying to take him off balance.
The block was so fast it blurred, and to Kyle, it felt like he'd just kicked a metal lamppost full strength. As he hobbled back, the man stalked up to him. "I told you, X-Man. Bad decision." The strike caught Kyle in the mid-section and a pair of ribs all but crumbled under the force.
Kyle's howl was cut off by the broken rib pressing into his lungs. He spat, and the blood was lost in the red helmet of the man brutalizing him. "Fuck you." He grunted out. "You covering up something nasty in that hat? Bet you're ugly as fuck in there."
"Yeah, ugly as fuck." He caught the blow Kyle launched at him and with deliberate slowness, crushed the fingers of his right hand. "Ugly as fuck." The modulated voice repeated, as he used the broken hand as leverage to force the man to his knees.
He took one chance at resisting, felt the bones in his hand grind against each other and it jolted every nerve up and down Kyle's arm. Funny how such little bones could make everything scream all the way to his neck. None of the pain lessened as he was forced down to the ground, but it slid away in the briefest moment of a memory of another hand on his neck, forcing him to his knees.
Kyle swore, and struggled hard against the grip, senses overloaded in that second of bare skin and overwhelming smells. And then it broke, reality crashing back and the pain in his hand and arm too sharp to resist.
The man reached forward, grabbing Kyle by the forehead. "Good night, little X-Man." He shoved back brutally, driving Kyle's head down directly into the concrete. There was an audible wet crack as the back of his skull broke and Kyle's world went black.
"Erik, I said none of them were to be killed." Magneto's voice said in Erik the Red's earpiece.
"This one will heal. Trust me." He said, stepping over the body and the rapidly growing pool of blood from under Kyle's head.
***
“Wildchilde. If the X-Men needed a Scrappy-Doo he’s it. Enhanced physical abilities, claws, negligible healing factor. He’s what you’d get back if you outsourced Wolverine on the cheap to a third world supplier. He’s not that much of a threat, but he can get in the way.”
The was an undertone of menace in his voice. “I need to be head’s up on tactics, so I’ll handle him. We have… history. It will be good to put him back on the leash like he belongs.”
It comes down to Scott to try and bring down Magneto.
His team was going down all around him. It didn’t help that illusions were part of the mix, scrambling targets and making it impossible to tell where everyone was. Without the telepathic switchboard, their only hope of coordinating was to get the teleporters high up and call out the situation, but their comms had gone dead as well. They had only been on the ground for minutes and he was having a difficult time finding X-Men on their feet. What happened to the Brotherhood?
“Cyclops, I’m afraid your plan was… perhaps too ambitious. Don’t worry. I have no interest in taking the lives of my fellow mutants, no matter how misguided, but our mission here is far too important to allow you to delay us.” Magneto was less than twenty feet from him, having paused in tearing about the structure. He did a doubletake. This was not a man in his 90s. Even with the helmet on, at most, this was a powerful man in his vigorous 50s at most. He’d seen old pictures of him with the Professor, and it looked like he did in the 1980s.
There was no way, no chance that this could be the same man that Scott had faced on the battlefield so many times before, who had spent decades clashing with Charles, two opposing dreams that had driven friends apart, split families. Two dreams that had acted as poles around which the rest of mutantkind had gathered, dancing around like moths to a flame. It had been the conflict that had defined a generation, the war that had taken a friendship and made it something more, a rivalry that one day might compare with the epics.
But that was a concern for the future, for today Scott only had one concern, stopping the man before him, the man who looked like Magneto but couldn't be. "So, let me guess...electromagnets, or maybe gravity manipulation? Or...are you another kid of Magneto's who just decided to come out of the woodwork? You're obviously not the real Master off Magnetism so before I drag you off to whatever plastic hole SHIELD's prepared for you I'd like to know what you've done with him.
"If only, Cyclops. If that was the case, you might have a way to victory. But you know very well if I stand against you, you will lose." He said, almost pleasantly, like a teacher meeting a former student. "I assume you won't be smart and simply surrender, will you?"
"I know that the man you claim to be could beat me if he had to," Scott agreed, that almost friendly tone reflected in his voice, "but I also know that he's well, he's a lot more regal and controlled than you are. I mean all this is a little much kid. Why don't you pack it in before he shows up to wipe the floor with you for besmirching his good name."
"It's a shame Charles got his claws in you first. What an inspiration you could have been for our people." He clenched his hand and Scott was buffeted as four different metal objects hit him in succession. Magneto stepped forward, towards him as he reeled. "I really don't want to hurt you more than I have to."
It was confusing, it was almost as if here were really talking to Magneto, but he couldn't be. But then Scott's eyes had failed him before, so many times, in this world you could never really trust that your eyes weren't being fooled, that they weren't being fed false information. Despite himself Scott was becoming convinced that the man in front of him was actually Magneto. Ribs groan in protest as the man pulled himself up from his knees. "What an inspiration you could have been, could still be to our people. They'll follow you, they always have Erik. You could stop all this, find a path to walk that isn't going to leave them going the line of war again and again. Find a way for our people to not constantly have to look over their shoulders for the knife in the back, your way only ends with death or by making us the very thing you hate. What kind of life is that?"
"Scott, I wish you could see clearly. We are in a war and again and again, you choose to side with those who would destroy us. I could almost forgive you for that, considering your upbringing. But I know you." A piece of rebar caught him around the head and smashed him to the ground. Another chunk of metal hammered into his back as he tried to get up. "You're too smart not to see the truth. Except you choose not to. Because it scares you. And that, Cyclops... that I can't forgive you for."
The X-man could feel the tricky of warm blood running down the side of his face, those warm droplets of blood splattering on the floor next to him as blow after blow impacted on his flesh. Scott knew that if he could just focus enough he could counter them, blast away Magneto's weapons but there was no recourse, no break in the tempo of the attacks that gave him a chance to collect himself to do that. "You're right," Scott's voice was hoarse, filled with pain as his arms came up to try to protect his head from the man's relentless assault, "we are in a war, but it's not the one you think. We could destroy them, they could destroy us, it's a cycle that will never end if we let you get your way. We're in a war with ourselves, hope verse fear, and that's why you're going to lose in the end. Because you can scare people, you can make them despise one another, be terrified but in the end...in the end someone will always be there to stand against you. Someone will always show the world that you're nothing more than a hate-monger, and that's what you fear/ You've become no different from those you've hated all your life."
“And so you’ve been taught. But… today is going to be a different sort of lesson for you. I hope you draw your own conclusions from them. All of you.” A plate of metal wrapped around the upper half of Scott’s face like it was made out of tinfoil, and makeshift manacles of scrap metal trapped his hands together.
“Believe me or not. Just think about what you were asked to defend today.”
***
“I know it seems odd that Cyclops is near the bottom of the list of threats, but there’s a good reason. He’ll put himself on the firing line with Magneto. His sense of responsibility won’t allow him to do anything else. And without the rest of the team, his threat profile to Erik is limited.” He said. “Rightly so, he’ll gamble that if he can break down Magneto, he can reverse fortunes or at least force a stalemate. It’s the smart tactical thing to do, so Cyclops will have it tattooed on himself somewhere.”
“I am not concerned about my ability to handle Mister Summers.” Magneto said from the back of the room.
“Just be careful. He’s still capable of banking an optic blast off a dozen flying pieces of metal and taking you in the back of the head. If you go down, this whole plan comes apart. If something happens, Mastermind will be the backup, blinding him long enough for one of us to get back to your position.”
Jean-Phillipe has multiple surprises waiting for him as the last X-Man standing.
Bevatron had been near Marvel Girl when the green armored woman had taken her out. He’d tried to switch tactics, provide support, but she’d blown apart the roof underneath him and dropped him down a story. By the time he’d pulled himself back up, the only X-Men he could see still on his feet was Cyclops, facing down Magneto alone.
"Fuck." It was likely a measure of the desperateness of the situation that Jean-Phillipe had even abandoned the fluid blasphemy of Quebecois swearing that was his usual go-to in terms of profanity. Cyclops standing off against Magneto, the epitome of his past confronting his present, was the sort of nightmare that brought him awake in cold sweats even years after abandoning the Brotherhood for his cousin and the others at Xavier's. There was a brief thought that this could be another nightmare, but in the end it didn't matter if it was or wasn't, because his response would be the same. There was a gravity that pulled him inexorably toward the confrontation.
Senyaka had been tasked first with distracting the feral. Not the little hairy one, but the tall one, the twitchy one. It had been his first task, a successful task, but an easy one. His second - he could feel his second task's approach under his skin. He grinned behind the layers of cloth over his face, and let his whips coil back around his shoulders. He strode through the battle, seemingly unconcerned with dodging debris, and grasped at the air, coating his arm with the brilliant crackle of electricity. "Ah, the prodigal."
"The sadist," Jean-Phillipe replied, his lip curling in disdain. He was well aware of how much enjoyment his opponent took in toying with victims. Even this bit of egotistical posturing was the opening gambit of his mind games. This was a poor matchup for him, second only to perhaps Erik himself in terms of his power being almost a liability, but the Frenchman let none of that show on his face, or the desperation he felt at the sounds of combat beyond the man in front of him. He would need to close the gap, as Senyaka's whips would give him the advantage at range. Opening his mouth as if he were going to continue trading verbal barbs, Jean-Phillip shifted forward, using one foot to send a fantail of dirt and pebbles up at Senyaka's face and then dashing in behind it.
"Pathetic." Senyaka sneered behind his scarves. He had flinched, anyone would but the wraps hid all but the twist of his head. He uncoiled one whip, cracking it at Bevatron and laughed coldly. "I know what I am, prodigal. Mutant." He cracked the whip once, and then let it wrap around his forearm. "Freedom fighter." And then he grabbed at Jean-Phillipe's jacket. "And yes, sadist. I will enjoy your suffering."
"As if you are the only one who knows who and what you are." Jean-Phillipe spat the words contemptuously. He reached out to grab Senyaka's outfit in a mirroring move, then snapped his head forward at the other man's eyesocket. "Cul."
"And yet." Senyaka twisted out of the way of the strike, and one whip uncoiled from his arm to strike against Jean-Phillipe's back. "You don't know who you are. Magneto trained you. He gave you his time, and you repay him with this. If I was permitted, you would be dead." He jerked his arm back and the whip recoiled, sparking and crackling against the other man's skin. "Instead you will suffer."
He could feel the whips pulling at his own bioelectric energy, and Jean-Phillipe grimaced involuntarily. "You know what makes me suffer most?" he asked to cover the wince. "Your fucking self-important attempts at sounding philosophical." He lashed his foot at Senyaka's knee to collapse the other man's leg and break the hold the whip had on him.
Senyaka took a step back from the kick, casual and easy, and smiled, a slasher grin under the scarves. "Oh no, you create your own suffering. You could have been his right hand man, prodigal. You could have been great, and yet you are here, doing nothing for your people." He flicked his hand, and a whip wrapped itself around Jean-Philippe's neck. "You form your own pain, I am the messenger."
The pull was inexorable this time, as if Senyaka was putting a hand into his body and yanking the source of his power out bodily. Jean-Phillipe gasped as he reached for the whip, a struggle for breath. He couldn't master those involuntary reactions, but he would be damned if he would give the Sri Lankan anything beyond that. This Senyaka might not remember killing Yvette, but Jean-Phillipe remembered. He had made himself reread every summary of the desperate losing battle in the tunnels, the fight that had led to the end of a universe and the patchwork creation of a new one. "Nothing for my people?" he shot back rhetorically. "I am not the one giving the rest of the world yet more reason to hate and fear us. I no longer walk that path." Because of his cousin, his husband, and others.
A hard tug to the whip and Jean-Phillipe was pulled forward. Senyaka pressed gloved fingers to the other man's cheek and leaned in, voice a raspy purr. "They will always hate us. You know it, Bevatron. They hate us for our power, and our differences. They always have. How would you like your pain, prodigal son? Kneeling or lying in the dirt?"
"I do not-" And here Jean-Phillipe brought his folded elbow up between them, catching Senyaka on the point of the chin and enabling himself to clear some space from the obscene embrace. "-kneel for the likes of you, Senyaka. And I never will."
The other man reeled back, spat out a vile epithet and pulled back hard on the crackling whips. "Of course not. Who is it you kneel for, Bevatron?" He continued to pull the whips, dragging Jean-Phillipe back towards him. "Who is it that keeps you? Who has replaced the mission in your heart?" Behind his scarves, Senyaka's eyes went white, and he laughed darkly. "Oh, prodigal. I've toyed with you enough. Now you scream, and scream well until he arrives."
A frisson of panic ran down Jean-Phillipe's spine at that. There was only one person Senyaka would refer to as 'he' without context like that, and he belatedly realized he had lost focus on Cyclops' standoff with Magneto. And then he lost focus on everything but pain. It had felt like Senyaka was actually pulling the source of his power out before, but now it felt as if the other man was turning his body inside out through the whips. Electricity coursed up them, and when there was no electricity left for his body to provide, it began tugging at his life force.
The Frenchman could feel numbness in his fingertips, and black crept in at the edges of his vision. But just when it felt like unconsciousness would take him, the pull eased off. 'If I was permitted, you would be dead,' Senyaka had said. Jean-Phillipe wasn't sure if that was better, given his current state. Somehow, he kept his feet, even though it looked like a light breeze could knock him over. He refused to kneel. "I would not-" he panted. "-expect you to understand, Suvik." He chuckled raspily. "You love nothing but yourself and the pleasure you get from others' pain."
"Bevatron. You disappoint me. You used to accept a wide range of attitudes." Magneto said, hauling a shackled and blinded Cyclops behind him through his powers. "I failed you, ultimately. Finding you here. Defending... what they have asked you to defend. You're so much better than that."
This was almost note for note the sort of nightmare that still occasionally woke Jean-Phillipe at night. Scott at Erik's mercy, and him unable to effect any sort of impact on the situation. Senyaka standing to one side looking as though he had just achieved release was an unwelcomely disgusting addition, to be sure.
"Erik." If the only thing he had was his words, so be it. "You did not fail me. You taught me many things about my power and myself. But not everything."
"No, not everything. If I had, you would be standing with me today. Not defending... this." Magneto waved at Senyaka. "Bring him forward. Let's show Bevatron what the X-Men had him defend."
Magneto waved his arms as Jean-Phillipe was shoved forward. Walls and floors shuddered only Erik's power and he began to violently peel them away, tossing them to one side as he tore deeper and deeper into the facility. Finally, he pulled back his hand, and through his powers, three massive twenty foot tall robots were pulled into the air in front of them. They were bulky and shutdown, but the lines and shape were unmistakable. Sentinels.
"This lab you fought so hard to protect is producing robots with one purpose: to identify, hunt and eliminate mutants. This US government facility is creating weapons of genocide that its own government claims publicly are illegal. This is what your leaders sent you to defend, Bevatron."
Jean-Phillipe shook his head. Not that he disbelieved that the American government could build these sorts of machines. But the other implications... "Erik, if you truly believe that Scott Summers would knowingly bring X-Men to defend a facility creating these...monstrosities...then you do not understand him the way I know you do." It was possible Coulson had known, but from his brief interactions with the man, and his willingness to work with Clint Barton and others from the mansion, he doubted that as well.
"Oh Bevatron. Your excuse is that your leader defended a genocidal program because they didn't know? Does that kill less mutants? How many do they sacrifice for their hubris." Magento shook his head. "I'd hoped you had an open mind, but I see Xavier's words have compromised you. I won't support the status quo. I will not go lightly into a genocide for our people. One last chance, Bevatron. Come home. Fight for your people."
"You travel with this," Jean-Phillipe twisted his head toward Senyaka, "filth and you ask me to come home?" If it was just himself, he might have decided differently. As it was, he was tempted, sliding along a knife's edge. "I will not countenance a genocide either, Erik. Do I have concerns with how the X-Men operate?" His voice was ragged, the exhaustion of having been drained pulling at him. "Absolutely. But I can no longer follow the path you tread. I no longer -just- fight for my people."
"I have a husband." His mouth twitched upward in a wry smile. "I would have sent an invitation, but you did not leave a forwarding address.
"
"It's a shame that you've taken your personal happiness ahead of your duty, but sadly, that's what Xavier teaches, it seems." Magneto nodded and Senyaka wrestled JP to the ground "Drain him. Leave him behind. Zero, prepare the portal home. There's just one last matter to clear up. Avalanche." He said, moving over to confront the man.
Avalanche dipped his head, acknowledging Magneto even as he wondered why he was being singled out. "Ναί?"
Thick steel cables tore themselves free from the rubble and wrapped around Avalanche with a motion from Magneto.
"I was clear, Avalanche. No killing other mutants without my expression permission. And it would seem that you atomized your opponent. What do you have to say for yourself?"
“What? No — she is silica. Easy to reform,” Avalanche protested, suppressing the urge to fight the metal now holding him immobile. “She’s there.” He gestured with his chin toward the area where he’d fought Dust. “Just in pieces.”
"I am not so certain. So I will leave you for the X-Men. Say nothing, and if the woman reforms, we will retrieve you from whatever cell they try to bury you. If she doesn't-" He said, his tone dark. "If she doesn't or if you betray us, I assure you it will be the last time you see daylight. Mystique, now please."
At his words, there was a thunderous roar and fire roared up from the substructure, and most of the other half of the building collapsed under the explosion. "No trace of the lab remains. No research, no prototypes, no researchers. This is our first strike against these abominations and we will not rest until every last element of this program is dragged into the light and utterly destroyed. The humans will learn we will not tolerate anything that hints to a new genocide. Zero, it's time." He said, and the Brotherhood followed him through the glowing portal, in moments leaving nothing behind but rubble, Avalanche and a field full of beaten X-Men.
***
“You know almost more about Jean-Phillipe than I do. His powers and control have grown considerably since his time with the Brotherhood. He’s capable of putting out massive voltage if he gets an opportunity so you’ll need to tie him up quickly. I admit, I don’t love the idea of risking him being awake for the object lesion, Erik, but obviously it’s your decision.”
He shook his head “JP is a man who needs to believe. Believe in something. Right now, Cyclops is his idol and the X-Men are the unchallenged symbol of what is right and good in the world. Blowing that up, or at least shaking it, could take an X-Man out of the picture without our needing to do another thing.”
