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#14 VCM
🕑 Added 2025-03-23 04:03:01 +0000 UTCCoulson chuckled, shaking his head. "I have to admit, comparing Fury's bald head to Charles Xavier's is certainly an interesting debate..."
Just then, his expression shifted. His face paled slightly as if something had just dawned on him.
"What's wrong?" Ethan asked, narrowing his eyes at Coulson, who had suddenly gone quiet.
Before Coulson could answer, a calm yet authoritative voice came from inside the room. "Come in."
Coulson relaxed a little and flashed Ethan a smile. "Well, looks like the bosses are done talking. It was nice chatting with you, Ethan."
"Likewise." Ethan smirked. He knew that dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. was inevitable in the near future. Getting acquainted with Coulson was both beneficial and necessary. If it weren't for that, he probably would have made up an excuse to leave by now.
Turning to Professor X, Coulson nodded respectfully. "Professor, I'll take my leave now."
With that, he closed his briefcase and stepped out the door.
Ethan plopped into a swivel chair and spun around lazily. "So, Professor, I take it your conversation with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director wasn’t exactly pleasant?"
Professor X gave a noncommittal hum. "Not bad." He didn't elaborate and instead shifted the topic. "Ethan, you look bored. Come with me this afternoon—we're meeting someone."
Ethan perked up instantly. "Who?"
"An old friend. Magneto."
Meanwhile, outside the school gates, Coulson approached a parked red convertible. It was sleek and well-maintained, though its classic '80s design gave it the air of a relic from another era.
In the driver’s seat sat a woman with sharp eyes and a cold expression. Melinda May.
Coulson sighed dramatically. "May, I’ve told you—no one sits in Lola’s driver’s seat except me."
May didn’t even flinch. "I was just looking. Your so-called ‘antique’ doesn’t interest me."
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Coulson smirked. "Lola’s not an antique. Under the hood, she’s got the latest tech."
May clearly had no interest in arguing about the car. "How did the mission go?"
"Not bad, aside from my head still spinning from Professor X’s warning." Coulson rubbed his temples as if reliving the moment.
"You should be grateful he's one of the moderates. If he weren’t, his telepathy could’ve turned you into a vegetable."
Coulson laughed. "Maybe I should send him a thank-you card."
He opened his laptop, and May leaned over slightly. "Are you sure it’s him?"
Coulson paused his typing and pointed at the screen. "I’d say I’m about ninety percent sure."
On the display was a set of images: one of Ethan’s profile and another—an enhanced still from the battle at Liberty Island. The facial features of the mysterious figure next to Magneto had been processed and compared against Ethan’s. The similarity was striking—six or seven points of match, at least. Enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. to take a serious interest.
May’s brows furrowed slightly. "So he slipped up."
"Not exactly. He’s actually very good at covering his tracks." Coulson leaned back. "I talked to him for ten minutes. He’s smooth—smart. He dodges sensitive topics effortlessly."
"Then what makes you so certain?"
"Because he was too careful. He didn’t resist or act hostile, but there was no doubt he was guarded. He didn’t want me figuring out whatever he’s hiding." Coulson tapped his finger on the screen. "And when I brought up the Liberty Island incident, his reaction was unnatural. Too indifferent—like he wanted to pretend it didn’t matter. A normal person would have had some kind of reaction."
May gave him a side glance. "You think he’s lying?"
"Oh, definitely. I know people—there are over 200 micro-expressions that indicate lying, and I recognized at least a few."
May folded her arms. "Ninety percent certainty is still not a hundred."
Coulson shrugged. "Before Professor X's warning, I might have agreed. But after that? I think ninety percent is conservative. The Professor’s reaction made it clear—Ethan is important."
May let out a quiet breath. "Hard to believe. He looks like just a kid, yet S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks he could be on Magneto’s level."
"If he weren’t, Fury wouldn’t have sent us, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have classified this as a level seven mission." Coulson shut his laptop and leaned back. Nick Fury was never one to take unnecessary risks. He might not have come out on top in his meeting with Professor X, but he had expected that. As far as results went, this mission had still been worthwhile.
"During our conversation, I threw in a few hidden psychological tests," Coulson continued. "It helped me gauge his personality. If this kid really is a level-four mutant, we need all the intel we can get."
May studied him for a second. "You seem... oddly amused by all this."
Coulson grinned. "I actually had a great time talking to him. Especially the part where we debated whether Fury or Professor X had the more dignified bald head."
May smirked—an expression that was rare on her. "If Fury hears that, you’re dead."
"Then let's not tell him, shall we?" Coulson flashed his signature smile. "You wouldn’t rat me out, would you, May?"
Before she could reply, May’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and handed a tablet to Coulson. "New mission."
"Already?" He took the tablet and skimmed through the details. "What’s it about?"
"General Ross. Fury wants intel on that big green guy who shrugged off gunship fire like it was nothing."
Coulson sighed dramatically, though there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Finally, something straightforward. I was afraid Fury wanted me to keep digging into the kid. If that were the case, I’d probably need Professor X to perform some psychic therapy on me."
Firing up the engine, he steered the convertible towards their next mission—a military base where, if the intel was correct, something monstrous had left its mark.
...
This is a military base. On the surface, it looks unremarkable, blending in with other nondescript government facilities. But underground, it is a completely different story—an expansive complex several times larger than the structures above, repurposed from an old missile silo.
At the heart of the base, in what was once the missile launch chamber, a massive glass room hovers in suspension, eerily isolated. No metal exists within a hundred meters of it, a deliberate precaution.
Directly below the glass chamber, a powerful device resembling a sonic emitter hums with restrained energy. It generates a unique force field—not strong enough to completely nullify Magneto’s abilities, but enough to drastically weaken them. A necessary safeguard. After all, no mere glass cage could hope to contain him otherwise.
Ironically, the device that ensures Magneto remains trapped was provided by none other than an old friend—Professor Charles Xavier.
A mechanical passageway extended, smoothly connecting to the suspended chamber. A motorized wheelchair glided forward, carrying the man who had once stood side by side with Magneto in their fight for mutantkind.
"Erik, I've come to see you," Professor X greeted, his voice steady yet weighted with unspoken history.
Magneto barely looked up from the chessboard before him, fingers idly toying with a glass piece. "You know you’re not welcome here, Charles."
"And yet, here I am." Professor X wheeled himself to the opposite side of the board, his expression unreadable.
For a long moment, Magneto said nothing, his fingers rolling a pawn between them. Then, without warning, he raised his head, sharp eyes locking onto his old friend. "Tell me, Charles… do you ever wake in the middle of the night, haunted by the fear that laws written by the ignorant will one day destroy you and your children?"
Xavier studied him, then nodded. "Of course."
Magneto leaned forward. "And when you do? What then?"
Professor X exhaled slowly. "I pity those too blind to understand us... and those foolish enough to provoke us."
A sharp "clack" rang out as Magneto let the chess piece drop onto the board. His gaze darkened. "I have no idea why you're here."
Xavier’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. "You know exactly why, Erik. I came to show you hope."
Magneto scoffed but followed Xavier’s gaze beyond the glass walls—to where Ethan stood, lost in thought against the far wall.
"Him?" Magneto mused, studying the young man with keen interest. "He might be. His power is… refined. Exceptional. And he’s only scratched the surface of his potential. An Omega-level mutant in the making."
His voice took on a dangerous edge. "I should be the one to guide him. Only I can help him become what he’s meant to be."
Xavier’s expression remained firm. "That will never happen, Erik. Because you would twist him into something he’s not."
Magneto’s fist clenched. "Twist him? It’s you who stifles our kind! You turn gods into frightened children!
Look at Jean Grey—what did you do to her? You took an Omega-level mutant and reduced her to nothing more than a girl playing schoolyard games. Would you do the same to him?"
This was where their battle always led. Xavier sought harmony, a bridge between mutants and humanity. Magneto believed only strength could secure their place. A lesson he had learned the hard way, over a lifetime of blood and war.
"Jean’s power was unstable. She was incapable of control, Erik. Left unchecked, she would have brought nothing but devastation." Xavier’s voice had risen, a rare display of frustration.
"We need to show our strength, Charles! Let them fear us, so they never dare strike first!" Magneto snapped.
Xavier’s expression hardened. "Like you did on Liberty Island? You nearly destroyed everything. Is that what you wanted?"
Magneto fell silent. His hand tightened around a rook, then slowly loosened.
"I’ll admit," he said finally, voice lower, "that machine was a mistake."
It was a rare concession, but the weight of it was unmistakable. Magneto had always envisioned a future where mutants ruled, where they weren’t just accepted, but superior.
But killing thousands in New York wouldn’t have led to that. It would have brought nothing but war. And he knew it.
"What’s the situation outside?" Magneto asked, changing the subject.
Xavier hesitated, then answered. "Since Mystique escaped Liberty Island, she’s been impersonating Senator Kelly.
Her influence, combined with your… actions, has forced the government to reconsider the Mutant Registration Act. For now, the bill has been put on hold."
Magneto allowed himself a small, wry smile. "Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard since I was locked in this glass tomb."
Xavier sighed. "Erik… I don’t agree with your methods, but I won’t deny that, sometimes, they force the world to listen."
"And yet, here I am, locked away," Magneto drawled, lifting a chess piece with a lazy flick of his wrist. "In a prison you helped design, no less."
Xavier met his gaze without flinching. "I had no choice. They needed to see that mutants weren’t declaring war. That we weren’t threats, just… people with grievances.
And whether you like it or not, Erik, they won’t kill you. Because they know you’re the only one who can control the Brotherhood. Without you, they fear what chaos might erupt."
Magneto let the chess piece fall again, watching it roll across the board. "You don’t need to explain, Charles. We both know the roles we play."
There was a long silence.
Then, Magneto’s voice turned quiet, almost weary. "Do you truly believe mutants have a future?"
For the first time, Xavier saw something in Magneto’s eyes that unnerved him. Not defiance.
Not anger. But exhaustion. As if, after all these decades of battle, he was finally questioning whether any of it had been worth it.
Xavier’s expression softened. "I don’t know if I’ll ever live to see it, Erik. But I’ll never stop searching for hope. And I hope you won’t either."
He turned his wheelchair and exited the glass chamber, leaving Magneto alone with his chessboard, lost in thought.
