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@masterrofmagnetism
— "𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙."
* ᴠᴇᴛᴇʀᴀɴ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ. * ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ. * ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ. * ɴᴏᴠᴇʟʟᴀ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. * ᴀꜱ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴀɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴇɴᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴄᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ 616 ᴄᴏᴍɪᴄꜱ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏʜᴇꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʀᴇʜᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀ. * ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. * ɴᴏ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀꜱ.
Writing schedule.
About the writer.
**ᴾᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ: ᴴᵃᵛᵒᶜ — ᵗʰⁱʳᵗʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ**
“What was my grandmother like?”
It was pointless to hide it from the girl.
The shift in his being. The tension in his muscles. The way just hearing the word grandmother roll off her tongue made him feel.
“Your grandmother…”
The pause was not because he had to drum up the old memories. They were always there somewhere. Lurking beneath the surface. Remnants of a life that hardly felt like it had been his own. Shielded away and protected from the world. A subject he didn’t speak of often for fear that speaking of them aloud would somehow taint the memories.
“She was kind. Gentle. Patient. Traits never to be confused for weakness. For she was also resilient and brave.
Despite everything that she had survived, she did not allow the world to harden her heart. A feat so few can boast.
She had soft brown eyes and a beautiful singing voice. The kind that even the most rigid of men would stop and listen to. She would often sing while she worked. Old songs. The kind that are passed down and never written on paper.
She loved nature. Plants and animals. Which is likely where your father got it from. How is Mister Dibbles these days?”
got my lab results back turns out i’m full of rage because i am full of grief
No one could ever be harder on me than I am on myself
POV: You’re Charles Xavier in X-Men ‘97 Season 2 Ep. 4
He who trusts the world, will only be betrayed by it.
There were always consequences for every action. Like throwing a stone into a placid pond, the ripples would spread outwards; growing seemingly larger until they faded from view.
Showing Charlie the most important thing that her own ripples had touched was both a way to ease her anxiety and his own guilt. A reminder for the both of them as to why the stone had been cast.
The scale of their actions went far beyond the two of them. It was more than just his mission and the comfortable life she had built for herself. A life she would likely never be able to return to in the way she had known it.
Two bricks in a seemingly endless wall. One that was constantly being built upwards. Pieces stacked on top of each other for the purpose of protecting that which mattered most.
The future.
It seemed as though he was the warden of it. Both in the long term and the short. Two sets of brown eyes focused on him as though he had all the answers. A plethora of questions hidden behind the one that was asked. The only one he was truly capable of answering.
“A few more hours. You should try to get some rest.”
Although it wasn’t clear who the suggestion was directed at, it was the boy who spoke up first. Clearly offended at the notion that he needed a nap. A distaste made obvious by a loud scoff.
“Is it even dark out yet?”
He had to crane his neck to see out one of the small windows. His displeasure further engrained at the realization that the sun had in fact set. He hunkered down in the seat with his comic book, grumbling under his breath.
“Maybe grandpa needs a nap. He looks tired”…
Erik had enough experience with difficult and troubled children, to know that it was not worth a rebuttal. Only resignation was evident in his expression as he gave a light shake of his head.
“You can have my quarters if you wish. There isn’t much else available that is private.”
This time it was obvious that he was speaking only to Charlie.
“I had no time to rearrange things before setting off.”
Marcus's muttered complaint referring to Max as grandpa caught Charlie completely off guard. A soft, unexpected laugh escaped her before she could stop it and she quickly pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the sound, shielding the genuine smile that had quickly grown. All she could offer to Max was a subtle raise of her eyebrows as if to say, kids, right?
Looking back at Marcus, though, the realization truly struck her. Here in front of her, sitting there was living, breathing proof of the impacts of everything that had transpired. When she had agreed to help Max, before she knew who he was or what kind of world he operated in, she had done it because this boy needed help. Seeing him now had solidified that choice. Whatever consequences would follow her, she simply couldn't regret it.
Still, what might feel like a small stone creating an expanse of ripples to a man of Max's stature looked entirely different from where she stood. From Charlie's perspective, those ripples had formed far off shore, gathering momentum until they had reached her as a tsunami. A single massive wave had crashed through her ordinary life, washing away routine and everything she knew, yet he had chosen not to leave her stranded there.
She was tiny in the wake of his world, but he had refused to let her drown in it.
When Max spoke again, offering his quarters, the sudden shift in atmosphere made her acutely aware of an exhaustion that had crept up on her. This simple gesture seemed to siphon off the last lingering bits of adrenaline that had kept her upright. Standing there in the narrow aisle, leaning on the headrest, the strain of the last few hours closed in on her. Quarters? On a jet? A quiet place to sit and wait out the remainder of the flight? She felt as though if she sat down now, she might fall asleep, even despite the slight discomfort of being on a jet.
"Thank you," Charlie said softly, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the engines. She no longer had the energy to ask the litany of heavy questions that had been close to spilling over earlier, even if she wanted to.
Offering Marcus one more smile, she addressed him one more time. "It was truly nice to meet you, Marcus. Don't stay up too late reading." She knew full well he would. As a kid, she had spent so many nights sneaking a book under the blankets with a flashlight herself. There was something sacred about it feeling forbidden.
Once they were out of earshot, she couldn't help but speak again. "Thank you, Max. That meant... everything. Trailing after him, she ventured one question, unable to keep the thought contained.
"What happens now?"
A simple question that weighed much more than it should have. Three words that could have been in reference to a dozen things. Was he supposed to pick just one?
The fate of the boy was the most unknown. His path had the potential to branch out in many directions. He could stay and become a member of the Brotherhood, after deciding that freedom needed to be fought for or he could decide to take a more peaceful route. To fight in a more subtle way that didn’t involve forcefully dismantling hostile infrastructure and taking freedom from the cold, dead hands of those who held it out of reach.
He could end up going back to his mother, when the dust floating all around him settled and his captors moved on to bigger targets. Forgotten in the wake of a constant war.
He could even decide that compliance was best. Take a number and continue to exist clinging to the hope that his cooperation would be enough to preserve his life.
Erik would not pretend as though he could tell the future and he did not know the boy well enough to make any kind of educated guess as to which direction his path was likely to go.
She might have been speaking of herself. What was going to happen to her. That he could assume, but the answer would not be one that she would find any kind of comfort in. She would return an enemy of the state whether it was as a fugitive or a criminal. Her own fight was just beginning and it was one he could not help her with.
Despite the fact they would both be standing on a frontlines of a war, her battlefield was leagues away from his own. Different nations and alternative tactics. Fighting a common enemy. The western front and the eastern front.
In the end he chose the only simple answer he could offer her. The only thing he knew for certain.
“Our destination is a safe one. Hidden and protected. You will have no choice but to stay.”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue, as he led her to the small compartment that he had claimed for himself.
“A reassurance to the others. We have learned to be suspicious by nature. It is not always easy to tell friend from foe. To override their concerns and diminish their feelings for my own personal reasons would make me quite the tyrant. Not the kind of man who makes an effective leader.
I hope you can understand.”
When they reached the door to the room that was really no larger than a walk in closet, he opened it the traditional way. One hand pressed against it as he held it for her, gesturing with a nod of his head for her to enter.
“You are not a prisoner. I apologize that it might feel that way.
I hope you have the number for a really good lawyer. Or someone who looks similar to you that you could use to fake your own death.”
A dose of dark humour, rendered with a smile that only seemed to effect one side of his face. His dual nature projected in a physical form.
Heads or tails.
A dangerous coin to flip.
There were many ways to track something.
When underwater, sonar was the most reliable and efficient method. When it was a natural system, built into someone’s DNA there wasn’t a cloaking device in the entire universe that would be able to hide something.
A technopath could also get the job done. Someone with the ability to feel and communicate with machines and computer systems. This method had some limitations, but one would only need to bring them within the general area of where they thought the fortress lay hidden and they would likely be able to find it.
He would probably be able to do it himself, constrained by the same limitations. Something that size would be easy to feel.
The stranger on the other end was most obviously a civilian and a painfully normal human at that. It seemed their imagination could not pass beyond the thought of radios and wires.
It was either that or they were trying to sound like a normal human civilian.
3_omeg@_effect: There are many ways to locate all kinds of things.
3_omeg@_effect: Are you asking me if I could track a person?
That was the third option. A telepath that could connect to a single mind on board the submarine prison. An absolute last resort. The one method he would be the least likely to use.
3_omeg@_effect: I would likely have to outsource.
3_omeg@_effect: Do you know someone being held there?
Do you know someone being held there?
The words stared back at her from the screen. It was a fair question. She tried to imagine what he was thinking. A hypothetical, or maybe a desperate grasp into the void on behalf of a relative lost in the dark.
He didn't know the plan was already taking shape in her mind. She knew how easily she could be overlooked. All it took was the right demeanor, the air of belonging in a place she did not. Sometimes a little essence of haste would add to the effect. The moment they would realize who she was, they would grab her. Someone would identify her, run her fingerprints, dig out her file.
She knew full well she had enough history to still be considered an active liability. In the past, they had never managed to hold her for long - not before, anyway. They would do their damnedest to not make the same mistake again, burying her deep beneath the waves to pry her for information she didn't have, where no rescue attempt could ever breach.
And if she was wrong about this stranger, his network, their capabilities, if no one came? She would simply remain. Buried beneath the heavy weight of the sea. It was a risk she was willing to take on the chance that she was right. One for the sake of many.
Her fingers found the keys again, typing out her reply with a chilling certainty.
h0stile_arch1t3ct: Yes. I am asking if you could track a person. It would need to be incredibly subtle.
h0stile_arch1t3ct: I don't know anyone being held there.
h0stile_arch1t3ct: Yet.
She hesitated, wondering if they would cut off contact, dismiss the sheer insanity of what she was proposing, but she typed it anyway, and hit the return key with a definitive clack.
h0stile_arch1t3ct: It will be me.
He never would have predicted that four simple words typed out on a screen would be capable of completely changing the trajectory of the entire conversation.
Was the stranger suggesting that it would be them who would need rescuing next?
What were they going to do or perhaps they had already done it? A fugitive looking for capable allies to keep in their pocket for when they needed one.
Were they a mutant too? A government dog who had broken off their chain? A war criminal?
The possibilities seemed even more endless than they had been before.
He could offer no reassurance. All he had to work with were hypotheticals. Theories and guesses that would need to be confirmed before he could be sure enough of anything.
3_omeg@_effect: It’s subtle as long as they aren’t expecting it.
3_omeg@_effect: I cannot make any promises.
3_omeg@_effect: Is time with us or against us? I will need to confer with my associates.
It wasn’t the first time he had been locked up, rendered powerless and reduced to the level of nothing but a common prisoner. He was not naive enough to think it would be the last either.
He certainly wasn’t as ignorant as his captors. Who likely assumed they held all the cards and expected he would stay there until they decided what to do with him. A fact that gave him the slight edge he would need in order to escape.
His unbearable cell mate was the worst part. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps shoving them together had been a tactical move. If they killed each other there would be no need to decide anything and they could easily wash their hands of any guilt.
A possibility that he could not allow to happen. No matter how insufferable Gabriel tried to be.
“Do not fool yourself. I would never assume such a thing. I know how thoughtless your blood line can be. That is likely how you wound up here. Some prideful and reckless endeavour.”
Although his tone of voice was completely casual, his eyes never wavered from the form of the other. Observing and assessing from where he sat on the floor at the opposite end of the small holding cell.
“I do hope you put more thought into your next move. The Shi’ar do not make easy opponents. They have spent decades learning us. Trading information with extremely educated sources.
The one thing they do not understand however, is our tenacity. We would be wise to use this to our advantage.”
He kept his eyes on the wall, tracing the lines where the metal panels met, like he could find a weakness in the seams if he stared long enough. Minutes. That's all they had before the Shi'ar dragged them out to parade in front of their emperor, and every second of it tasted like ash. The collar sat heavy and cold around his throat—genetic-locked, tamper-proof, wired to a remote that could drop him like a sack of meat if he so much as breathed wrong. He'd seen the guards, seen the way their fingers hovered over the triggers. Didn't take a genius to know what happened if he pushed.
He turned, finally, and met Erik's gaze. The man had decades on him, experience, connections, power that Gabriel had only ever tasted secondhand. And yet here they were, two mutant kings with the same damn collar around their necks.
"If this is somehow your idea of a pep talk, you are the lousiest motivator ever."
His voice was low, rough around the edges, the way it always got when he was running out of patience. He stepped closer, not quite crowding, but close enough to make a point—close enough to let Erik see the hardness in his jaw, the flicker of something mean behind his eyes.
"It's quite rich, coming from the man who had everything to be able to move on, but decided to be stubborn and cling to the past instead." He let that sit, watching for any crack in that iron composure. "You could've rebuilt. Rerouted. Picked something new instead of grinding the same old bones." His hand drifted up, thumb brushing the edge of his collar, a reminder of what they both had to lose. "And now look where we are. Two old dogs in the same pound, waiting for someone else to call the shots."
He scoffed, low and bitter. "You and your grudges. You ever stop to think maybe you're the one who's been standing in your own way this whole time?"
He dared to offer the smallest of smiles, before giving a shrug of his shoulders that was sure to project as infuriatingly casual.
“I have never been one for motivation and positive affirmation. That sort of thing is much more someone else’s forte.”
If the man across from him was bold and foolish enough to poke at old wounds, he was more than capable of doing the same.
“Rebuild. Reroute. That is exactly what I am trying to do. Unfortunately our friends do not take very kindly to having their technology stolen. Even if it has been long abandoned.”
The smile faded in unison with his patience. His eyes narrowing as he regarded the other.
“You dare to lecture me?
An entitled little upstart. That’s what you are. Feeding a craving for power to make up for all of the times you have felt powerless.
Surely the sweet irony of the situation you now find yourself in tastes like blood in your mouth.
There are some things that cannot be forgiven.
Surely you understand this better than most.”
He paused for nothing but dramatic effect. A moment to let the truth of his words sink in.
“We have about two minutes before we are marched out of here and paraded around like organic trophies of sport. Do not bite back your anger. I am going to need it.
Unless you have no interest in getting out of here. Of course. For a militant alien race, I believe the Shi’ar are known for being rather kind to their prisoners. As long as you are willing to be a good boy.”
It seemed as though him and Lorna had much more in common than solely their mutation. He had always had a difficult time deciding who to trust and often learned the hard way that he was wrong when it was much too late to do anything about it.
Time and time again, the wolf would crawl out from underneath the sheep’s skin and reveal a mouth of razor sharp teeth. Hungry and eager to attack from behind when he was least expecting it. Usually in a moment of weakness.
“Just because I work with them, does not mean I trust them. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I am not sure how the saying goes when it comes to family.”
He would not voice aloud the indirect betrayal he felt over the current whereabouts of her siblings. One of them running off to work alongside the man who had helped to construct the mutant registration act and the other cozying up with the Inhumans, while playing prince of the cosmos.
“You know you have a problem when TOAD is your most steadfast and trusted companion.”
The small bout of laughter he dared to release was marred by the sound of the engine as the plane took off. Only when they were up and on their way to the allotted destination, did he allow himself to relax; dropping into the nearest seat available as though exhausted by the days events.
“There are always more labs to break into, my dear. Prisons. Research facilities. Military bases.
But for now, it is time for rest. I fear I am starting to get much too old for this sort of thing.”
laughter burst from lorna before she could stop it, the sound genuine despite everything that had happened. "i don't think there's any version of that saying that fits a family like ours," she admitted, shaking her head. "friends, enemies... at least those categories stay relatively consistent. family has a habit of being both before lunch." the humor faded into something more thoughtful as she looked out the small window, watching the forest disappear beneath the clouds. she understood the feeling better than she cared to admit. trust had always seemed conditional, no matter which side of the ideological divide she found herself on.
"if toad is the bar we're measuring everyone else against," she said, glancing back toward him with the faintest smile, "i suppose i may owe him an apology. i've probably underestimated him." there was dry humor in the remark, though, strangely, she half believed it.
as erik settled into his seat, the exhaustion in his posture didn't escape her notice. it was oddly human, seeing the man so many viewed as larger than life finally look weary. "rest sounds nice," she murmured, leaning her head back against the worn interior of the aircraft. "but somehow i don't believe you'll stay away from prisons and laboratories for very long." a corner of her mouth tugged upward. she wanted to thank him then, even if she wasn't the one he'd meant to save.
but she didn't.
"so, when's the last time you spoke to the professor?" it was, in all likelihood, a random question, but part of lorna believed that magneto's propensity for navigating these missions with a firm line when human lives were at stake depended, more or less, on how recently he had spoken with his best friend.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
For a child he had no hand in raising, Lorna certainly knew him well. Despite how weary he would feel and as tired and worn down as he could get, he would never rest for long. The world refused to let him.
Sometimes it was like destiny waited. Like a predator in the bushes, it would sit still and quiet with bated breath for the moment he dared to let his guard down. A moment of peace. A moment of respite. Fate would pounce on him the instant he bowed his head and closed his eyes to take a drink from the watering hole.
He was getting too old to hide it.
“Of course you underestimate him. As does everyone else. That is why he is so efficient. Loyalty should never be measured by strength and capability, but how far a person is willing to go.”
He could have went on. It seemed he was never too tired for a lecture. Although his wisdom was cynical, it was the only thing he had to offer the girl. A love language she wouldn’t understand until she had lived as long as he had.
He had not expected her to ask after her former mentor. A silly question considering he hadn’t exactly employed non lethal force to break her out of her prison cell.
Tired blue eyes opened, as the pinprick of a headache instantly resonated from behind them; as though the mere mention of his old friend was enough to have him tugging at the corners of his mind, like an accidentally summoned entity.
“I could ask you the same question. Seems a little odd that it was I who was the one to find you. Surely you are not naive enough to think he does not know exactly where you are, ALL of the time. I suppose your friends were busy.”
“I’ve been looking for you.”
That voice was enough to pause her step as she approached her front door. A second of doubt as she glanced behind her shoulder to find a face that was becoming all too familiar.
"Well congratulations."
Raising her brow in amusement, a few questions already springing to her mind as the tables had finally turned. How much did he figure out. Who helped him? And more importantly, what was his plan now.
"Was it hard?"
She hadn’t been an easy one to track. More like a ghost than a woman. A face that nobody seemed to know and a presence that nobody seemed to remember.
He had tapped into every resource he had access to and come up with nothing; eventually being forced to employ an underhanded method.
Technology had been what had led him to her doorstep. A small tracking device made up of biomechanic material, that had been placed on her without being noticed the last time they had met.
“Immensely.”
He could do nothing but admit the difficulty he had faced, while he stepped up behind her, close enough that escape would be impossible without using force, his front pressed against her back.
“What makes a person so afraid of being found? You owe me a coffee.”
She had failed somewhere.
A hidden flaw in her almost perfect cover, but she hadn't the time to obsess over her mistakes. Not when he was at her door, breathing down her neck as she stood with the keys in her hand.
"Afraid? Oh, you've got it so wrong."
Recalling the countless tools at her disposal. Her gun tucked behind her coat, being the most obvious that he no doubt could feel from the lack of space.
Thinking of his... abilities, he was also likely aware of the gun in her purse, the countless blades. She even had wire within her hemlines. Most of it metal.
"You didn't exactly do as you were told, but sure."
Trying to contain her excitement at this possible challenge, she would turn on her doorstep with the little space she had and smile brightly. Reaching for his wrist, she would pull up his sleeve just enough to note the time on his watch.
"I'll drive."
It would have been pointless to fight.
A fact that he knew she was aware of, now that he was convinced she had done her research.
He knew there was a whole plethora of information out there for anyone who desired it. Both public knowledge and concealed files.
It seemed likely that she had utilized both.
“I am not prone to listen to those that I cannot trust. Experience has taught me it is usually wise to do the opposite.”
As she shifted in place, he moved back just a little bit to allow for the transition. Reminiscent of the intimacy often shared between lovers, his gaze remained locked on hers; the space between them still close enough that he could have counted each of her eyelashes.
He met her smile with one of his own, as the keys in her hand were slipped from her grasp and sucked into his own; quickly trapped inside his closed fist before she could even react.
“I’ll drive. Which one is yours?”
"Easy tiger."
There wouldn't be a fight from her. At least not yet.
In fact, she expected his argument. The little magic trick was brushed off as him showing off. Pissing on a tree to try establish dominance, but she wouldn't take her eyes from his for a second.
"Those keys belong to the Kawasaki." Allowing a pause for the penny to drop, a minor challenge she was eager to see if he would accept or work around some other way.
The fact she was on a higher step made it easier to lean forward, closing that small space once more to purr in his ear. "Now it's clear we are past personal space, but even I wouldn't trust me to watch my back."
She had a car, and the keys were rested on a hook inside her apartment, but she wasn't about to tell him. Where was the fun in that?
"How bad do you want this coffee, Lehnsherr?"
She was trying to shake him.
A sad attempt to get under skin that had been built up thicker than steel. She was looking for a chink in his armour. Something that she could use.
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t find it this time.
“I’ve had enough knives in my back that I have grown accustomed to the feeling. There is little point in fearing that which is inevitable.”
He offered the smallest of smiles before stepping away with the keys still trapped within his fist. The motor bike would not deter him.
“How bad do I want this coffee? Bad enough to let you ride behind me. I see you’ve done your research. That’s good. That means you are aware how foolish it would be to stab a man who doesn’t need the bike to be running in order to send it off the Brooklyn bridge.”
"So sad."
Any excitement she had over this situation was deflating quickly as he ramble on. No fight back, no quick comments? She had seen more spark in a dead lighter.
Of course he would fall back to that little trick of his to threaten her. It made her chuckle softly as she stepped down the stairs at her own antagonisingly slow pace, not even glacing his way as she walked past him towards her bike that stood waiting.
With one hand on the storage box, she half expected for him to fumble with the keys in his hand. "Lucky you, I've two helmets so you can keep the roman soldier cosplay for another time."
It wouldn't be the first time she had gone over that bridge. Would rather not have to do so again, but if the alternative was listening to his sob stories, then the shock of the cold water sounded far more fun.
"Hardly research, your face is on the news every other month. You make it too easy, but you already know that."
It seemed the woman refused to give up her vigil. Barbed remarks and words meant to be insults continued to pour from her mouth in an attempt to shake his resolve.
He would not give her the satisfaction. When it came to being stoic, he had it down to an art. Years of practice and a fierce determination to gain complete control. It would take a lot more than her to get under his skin.
He actually chanced a laugh, as he paused and reached forward to take the helmet from her outstretched hand.
“There’s no need for safeguards when I am dealing with someone evolution has chosen to leave behind.
Every other month? They must have found someone else to focus on.”
Securing the helmet over his head, he swung one leg over the bike and waited for her to get on behind him.
“I trust you will direct me? And not straight into an angry mob this time, if you would be so kind.”
"Aw, dont be that way, baby. Put your bruised ego aside. Regardless of what you think about me, you were still thinking of me, or you wouldn't be here."
With one hand on his shouler, she moved to straddle the seat behind him. An unfamiliar place on her own bike, but she only took a small moment to adjust herself, smiling happily all the same. It reminded her of the small hit missions she went on with other widows, although coffee wasn't exactly an adrenaline rush.
"Besides, I've never led you wrong yet. You simply didn't listen to me."
Leaning back ever so slightly, shaking her hair from her face, she can hear him mumble something behind his helmet and chuckles to herself whilst she slips her own on.
Pulling herself close his body, a lingering hand on his side, she can't help but count the opportunities she had to carry out some wicked fun. Starting with a single slap to his thigh to get him going.
"Hop to it, Lehnsherr."
He wouldn’t bother to deny it. A pointless and pathetic endeavour when his actions would directly contradict the argument.
He had been thinking about her. Though mostly about her motives. Why had she tried to warn him about the demonstration? Was she trying to help him? Or did she know he wasn’t going to listen?
Was she in on the whole thing and a key player in whatever sick game was unfolding before him or was she sympathetic to his cause?
If she expected casual conversation over a cup of frothed espresso, she was sadly mistaken. The only date he desired was a quiet interrogation in a public space. To make sure she didn’t try anything too bold.
His back straightened as the weight of her body pressed against him. A smirk she wouldn’t be able to see and a laugh she wouldn’t be able to hear over the starting of the bikes engine.
He had to speak a little louder to make sure she heard him as he revved it, just to get a good feel for it before they took off.
“So impatient. Are you that desperate for a ride?”
Another mumble.
Something told her he didn't usually have a passenger on a bike. She could just about make out the word desperate, but that alone was more than enough for her to fill in the gaps.
As they rode off, her hands were already itching to risk searching his pockets, but she knew she would need a better distraction, just incase.
A moment to think, a grin splitting her face before her fingers began to teasingly walk up his chest. Every step climbed was done so slowly, almost waiting for a reaction until she reached the zip on his jacket and inched it down.
Carefully, her hand eventually found its way around his throat, just below the helmet. A light touch, a gentle squeeze, and before he could drive them both into the wall she would raise her finger to hit the small bluetooth button.
A little tune rang in both their ears as she slipped her hand back down and the other from out his pocket. Confident he would hear her through the headset she would only then give her direction.
"Next left."
He had never been the type of man to carry anything in his pockets. Usually it was far too much of a risk. Even an item that seemed insignificant and ordinary could be used to obtain information and he preferred to leave behind as little as possible for anyone to work with.
He had been in the game for far too long to not notice when someone else was playing it. Women were all the same. Naturally equipped with the most dangerous weapon anyone could wield. Desire was a powerful tool.
He knew she was far too sharp to miss the subtle way his head tipped back as though silently daring her to grip his throat a little tighter. Words spoken with action.
Go ahead. Do it. See how that works out for you.
As the headset inside the helmet crackled to life and her command to turn left rang in his ears, he was tempted for the most fleeting of moments to go right instead. The only thing that held him back was the thought that she was likely expecting that.
He slowed just enough to make the turn safely; heading left precisely as she had ordered.
Had he been determined to do the opposite of what she said, he would find himself outside his current residence. Would serve him right for wasting her time, and yet she felt disappointed she wasn't able to carry through that game. Show off her knowledge in another attempt to get under his skin.
"You can listen, such a clever thing you are."
Continuing with further direction. Take the third right, then left at the nest traffic lights. The lack of reward from his pockets lingered in the boredom of her voice.
Noting her opportunities to flee as he slowed at corners or pulled up to red lights. Her heart rate increased that little more, resisting the urge to leap out the seat. The possibility of a chase, that was always a fun way to spend an afternoon, but he would only return to her apartment.
She wouldn't be surprised if he had already tried to go through it. The alarm systems wouldn't be too hard, but her study... he would evaporate himself and the whole block if he tried it without the code.
Pointing to the quiet coffee shop on the corner, the very place she told him not to go to those past few weeks back.
"Since I know you liked it there."
In an almost methodical and mindless nature, he followed the directions exquisitely, right down to the last syllable. All the while committing to memory the path they were taking, just in case he would need to recall it at a later date.
He didn’t have to put much effort into manning the bike. Not when he could perfectly dictate its every movement without needing to utilize the hand controls. A crash was impossible. Unless it was done deliberately. A possibility that lingered in the back of his mind, ready to be employed at any second if the situation called for it.
“I may have liked it. If I had ever actually made it there. But you saw to it that I didn’t.
Did you not?”
He didn’t expect an answer. At least not in that particular moment.
He coasted into a parking spot and disengaged the engine, before promptly removing the helmet. As much of an unnecessary precaution as his other one would have been.
“Are you sure this is just a coffee shop? Or should I be preparing myself for another fight?”
She was off the bike the moment she could be. Rolling her shoulders back before lifting her own helmet off.
"Another fight? That's funny." In the footage she had seen of him, she couldn't recall a single punch thrown. His signature move defaulted to standing like an open target and watching the metal do all the work. Hardly what she would consider a fight. "Throwing a snowball has more physical work than your so called fights."
Scoffing, she would tuck her helmet in its box, reaching out for his own with an outstretched hand.
"We both have reasons not to be here. It's the most neutral ground I could think of with such little time. If you have other suggestions, I'm all ears?" This is after all his idea. She was going to leave a coffee on his windowsill, but he couldn't wait.
The use of English was too common for the subjects she was certain he would want to discuss, and German wasn't that much better, but if that was her options, she would take the latter.
Without missing a beat, she would change her language, like changing a glove. Right down to the pitch and accent, her German was flawless, easily mistaken for someone who may have grown up East of the Berlin wall. "What languages can you speak? I'd rather not make this conversation too easy for any hot ears."
He couldn’t help but smile as he moved to hand her back the borrowed helmet; playfully pulling back just before her hand could reach it.
“Work smarter, not harder. Someone sounds a little jealous. Or perhaps that is disappointment I sense.”
He made sure to place the object right inside her hand, when he was done being an obnoxious tease.
“Perhaps you wanted me to slaughter all those people. Despite what my files contain, I am not one for shameless massacre. Nobody deserves to die a pointless death.”
He gave a casual shrug before continuing.
“English. French. German. Polish. Portuguese.
Russian.”
A flicker of amusement lit up his eyes as he listed off the last one and waited for her to choose one.
Her eyes would meet his as he played his little game. She wouldn't dream of reaching over like a dog would try to take a bone, and so she waited.
"Just an observation. It's a common theme I've found in men who think they are above everyone else. They always hit like a little bitch."
Continuing her German as she took the helmet from him, a smile on her own face as she packed it away and waited for him to get off her bike.
"If I want anyone dead, I'd have no issues doing it myself."
To her, the planet is overpopulated anyway. What are people, if not mere parasites? Drinking the world dry to satisfy our own selfish desires.
She would catch the subtle shift when he mentioned Russian. Her smile changed to something more playful, daring as she lifted her finger to her lips.
"Portuguese works, I can't imagine it will be recognised often in here." Shifting languages once more, her steel grey eyes stalking him for any silent responses. "Are you wanting this coffee, or did you want an excuse to pose on my bike?"
She didn’t seem to skip a beat.
Quick witted and sharp tongued. Verbal jab after verbal jab coming at him, like the hits of a welterweight champion boxer.
“I don’t think I am above anyone else. Just a little higher on the evolutionary scale than some.”
He gave a casual shrug and turned towards the coffee shop, while effortlessly switching to the chosen dialect. It was one he had learned while making his way across South America. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was where she had picked it up as well.
“I don’t think proper English would be easily recognized in there. The world does not exist outside of America, you know? There is little need to learn anything about it.
Why are you so worried about being heard? Are you being followed? Watched? An ex lover turned stalker, perhaps?”
"Now, where did I hear that before?" Faking a reflective thought before snapping her finger, "Ah, Arthur de Gobineau, his 1850 something essay, they too believed that some people were just that little more "evolved" than others... Ironic, dont you think?"
Watching him carefully, she was more than aware of how delicate the matter might be, but she wasn't about to sugarcoat the facts. He was a dangerous person. She could recognise that charming facade was just a paper lock on an ape enclosure.
His joke about the American education system did manage to break her icy character. A more genuine smile pulled at her lips before she would shake her head of the thought.
"Maybe I just wanted to show off. Why are you looking for open positions? How long were you watching me before you showed up at my door?
I guess I will get your coffee to go then, since you are infact still posing on my bike."
“Ironic that he was right.”
Adapt or die. Survival of the fittest. Extinction or evolution.
It was natures way and a process that had happened a million times over since earths creation.
Society tried to deny it. How they fought with futility to entertain the idea that all humans were created equally, but he was living proof that they most certainly were not.
“You like being watched? Does the notion make you feel special? Such primitive methods. I have more than one trick up my sleeve. It would do you best to remember it.”
He gave a shake of his head before stepping away from the bike and right past her towards the “coffee shop”. If she thought she was going to wiggle her way out of the conversation they needed to have with witty quips and off handed dismissals, she was sorely mistaken.
There was no desire to reward that comment with a reply. She knew too many people who twisted those words to suit their own agenda. As far as she was concerned, none of them had a fucking clue about what it meant to survive.
"Maybe I do." Dropping a wink as he stormed past her, amusement dripping off every word. "I think it's amusing. You're warning me of your hand, but you dont even know the game you're playing, do you?"
It was beginning to feel like reading a book for the second time in a row. His desire to be the one in control of the situation seemed to outweigh his stubbornness in all other matters. If she tugged on the reigns just enough, perhaps he would pull exactly where she wanted?
The shop inside was quiet, a couple of customers sat by the window and a young woman behind the counter reading her book. Even the chime of the bell above the door wasn't enough to raise her eyes as they entered.
Walking past him as he took it in. Nicole headed straight for the little booth in the back corner, sliding into the seat that overlooked the cafe.
There was a quiet thrill to this situation that had her heart fluttering. Despite the close proximity of previous encounters, or even the countless footage online, she was being handed the chance to study the infamous Magneto under a whole new light.
"Go on."
In his world there was no need for secrecy or sneaking around. Such things were impossible when half the world knew exactly who you were.
There was no reason to hide. He could easily fight his way out of nearly any situation that happened to transpire if he were to be recognized. Even those who allegedly held up the law were intelligent enough not to engage him in such a public forum.
That was half the reason why he had picked a public setting of which to hold their discussion. She might have felt safer in a secluded place in the middle of nowhere, but to him that was just offering up the opportunity for an unfortunate turn of events.
With an almost graceful ease, he slid into the booth across from her and offered her a wry smile.
“Caffè macchiato. Tall.”
His order.
Coffee may not have been his only motivation for the impromptu date, but he very much intended for the woman to make good on her word.
"Tall?" So she could have taken him to Starbucks, and he would have been just as satisfied. Not the impression she picked up from him. "One tall caffè macchiato it is."
Glancing at the keys still firmly in his hands as she grabbed her bag and headed for the counter. The thought of leaving regardless would have crossed her mind if the cafe wasn't so quiet. Feeling his gaze on her as she stood at the till to order his drink, her iced americano and a slice of the devil's chocolate cake sat behind the glass counter.
She would wait at the counter, watching carefully as the young girl made each drink, her mind pondering the ldngths ghat could still be gone to lace a drink with something more. She might have appeared kind, preventing the worker from having to go out their way to bring their order to the table. The truth was she didn't trust anyone to be left with something she would consume.
Plucking a fork from the container, hesitating if only a moment before picking up a second, she would carry the tray to the table, placing his coffee before him and taking her seat once more.
"Do you like chocolate cake?" Sliding the second fork to him in an invitation, she couldn't care less if he accepted. Cutting into the thin edge with her fork and taking that first bite, humming in satisfaction at the taste. "You never mentioned food, but who really says no to a devil?"
He would not allow his eyes to look away from her for even a second. Fully aware that she could and probably would take off out the door at any moment. Poised and ready to bar all points of entry and exit at the slightest indication that she would dare to try.
It seemed as though she enjoyed the notion. She fancied the challenge and welcomed the danger. A game of cat and mouse that neither of them would ever win.
He took note of how her toes tapped against the floor as the barista went about filling their order. A mindless tick that most would attribute to impatience. It seemed more like anxiety to him and he knew damn well it wasn’t due to having his eyes all over her.
When she finally sat back down across from him, he nodded in silent gratitude for the coffee. Picking up the extra fork, he gestured with his head towards the front counter and the young lady who was now busying herself with wiping down the machines she had used to craft their beverages.
“A friend of yours?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, before offering a casual shrug and putting his focus on the plate in front of him.
“I have never been big on chocolate. Oddly enough that was exactly what the devil used to offer me. For something that is supposed to be sweet and indulgent, I find it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”
In direct contradiction of what he had just said, he forked a generous bite into his mouth.
“It seems I’ve gotten used to it.”
Savouring the small bite of cake, the way the dark icing melted on her tongue, she refused to talk with her mouth full. Opting for sitting in silence as she waited for him to finish talking, reading between the words he said and those he kept back.
"I don't keep many friends, Lehnsherr." She wondered how much of an understatement something could be before it was an outright lie. Despite it, she can't help from watching his face for his own silent threats, "Nonetheless, the girl is no threat."
She had no idea of the meaning behind the chocolate. The slight raise of her brow was the only indication she had taken note of the comment.
"The only thing in this world for free is cheese in a mousetrap." Using her fork to guesture to his cup, her gaze flickering from the piece of cake as the thought stirred in her mind once more. "You wanted the coffee, I wanted some cake. I was raised to share nice things, but if you would prefer the Victoria sponge, all you need to do is ask?"
An ironic statement that he could not refute the validity of. Not while she had just paid for the warm cup of coffee currently casting steam up into the air between them. Two strangers who seemingly didn’t have a single thing in common.
Or perhaps he just had yet to figure out all the degrees of separation between them.
“Is that what this is?”
There was no humour in his tone or lightness in his voice as he inquired. He wasn’t foolish enough to expect an honest answer. Not when it came to the woman from nowhere.
“A piece of cheese in a mouse trap? I will not lie and say that I am immune to traps, but since you’ve done your due diligence to study me, you know they never seem to hold me for long.
Why the sudden interest?
You aren’t still upset about your Nazi, are you?”
Look what broke today.
sort of witchy person in and out of character here, you can keep it (i do, personally) but you're not really supposed to.
if you do dispose of it, my advice is getting a piece of silk or fine linen, wrapping it up, and burying it somewhere.
I did not think it was considered wise to keep it. Who wants to keep a trinket full of negative and dangerous energy?
That’s what we have children for.
Wrap in silk or linen and bury. Do I need to write up a eulogy as well? Is there some kind of incantation I am supposed to recite? A deity to thank?
Look what broke today.
I am an asshole for wearing this shirt.
“We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry.”
— Unknown
