A Mutant Christmas Carol
by heyjupiter/Renata of Doom (renata@frowl.org) 12/31/03
Summary: Magneto learns a valuable lesson about Christmas. Or not.
PG
Movieverse, X2
Archive: Sure, just let me know. renata@frowl.org
Notes: The X-Men all belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, and whoever else. Not me. With apologies to Charles Dickens.
Senator Kelly was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. Old Senator Kelly was as dead as a doornail.
That is not, of course, to imply that doornails are particularly dead. Why, in certain hands the very atoms of a doornail can hum and sing with more life than many people are capable of. Yes, the doornail should not be overlooked. However, I am getting distracted from my main point, which is that: Senator Kelly was dead.
Now, then.
Once upon a time-- Christmas eve, as it happens-- Magneto was sitting in his Top Secret Hideout, once more going over his plans for world domination. His assistant, Mystique, sat shivering in the next room. As he pored over the details of his planned attack on the European Union, he was annoyed to hear a knock at the door. "Bother," he said, to no one in particular, "One would have hoped that living in a secret underground cave would have discouraged those pesky Girl Scouts. Although I do admit, those Thin Mints are rather tasty..." He ceased his monologue and answered the door, and found his old friend Charles sitting there.
"A merry Christmas to you!" exclaimed Charles.
"Humbug."
"Erik! Humbug to Christmas?"
Magneto fixed him with a withering glare. "Charles, I'm Jewish, you cad."
"Damn, should have known that. See, Erik, if you'd only take that helmet of yours off I could be much more precise in offering you my seasonal greetings..."
"Charles, that's the worst excuse you've come up with yet. What are you really here for?"
The telepath sighed. "Well, we were having a Christmas party at the school tomorrow, and I was hoping you'd join us."
"Well, sorry, old chap, but mutant world domination isn't going to plan itself, you know. I've got to keep working."
"Erik! Christmas is a good time, a charitable time... couldn't you give it a break for a day?"
"Charles, you keep Christmas in your way, and let me keep it in mine."
"Oh dear. Are you sure you won't come? We'll have a lovely big ham and--"
"Jewish, Charles! And how did you get down here, anyway?"
"It was a struggle, I admit. You know, Section 7 of the Americans with Disabilities Act specifically mentions Evil Lairs and Hideouts, I could have you written up for this."
"Humbug!"
"Well, it was lovely seeing you again, old friend, but I suppose I should be off. I need to hang my stockings by the chimney with care."
"Charles, when did you become a walking dictionary of cliches?"
"I imagine it all started around 1974. Merry Chr-- have a good evening, Erik!"
And with that he left, and Erik returned to his work. "Christmas. Humbug," he mumbled.
But he had hardly been working for five minutes when another knock interrupted him. "Oy gevault!"
So it was with a decidedly dark mood that he opened the door, to see two men standing there with earnest expressions. The man on the left smiled broadly. "Good evening, Mr..." he looked down at a clipboard, "Mr. Magneto!"
He sighed. "It's pronounced 'MagNEEto, not MagNETo, you incompetent buffoon."
"A thousand apologies, sir."
Here his partner stepped in to save him. "Ah, but who can be concerned with such trivialities on Christmas Eve?"
Magneto took a deep breath. "I'm... Jewish! Not to mention an evil supervillain!"
The man on the right looked a bit taken a back, but his partner continued on, oblivious. "Yes, but think of all those hungry, cold souls, with no one and nothing on Christmas Eve! And if you could give even five dollars..."
"You misunderstand me. If it were up to me, they'd all be dead!"
The man gasped. "On Christmas Eve?"
Blue fire began to crackle in Magneto's eyes. The more intelligent of the two gentlemen grabbed his partner, saying to Magneto, "Sorry to take up your time, sir.. merry Chr-- good evening!" He then pushed the door shut, dragging his partner away with him.
It was clear to him that he was not going to get much more work done this evening, so he decided to call it a night. He shut the door to his study, and ducked into Mystique's office. "Mystique?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm going to call it a night, I think. You're free to go do... whatever it is you do."
"Thank you. And..."
"Yes?"
"Well... I was wondering if I might have some clothes, sir? I mean... it's very cold in here, and you know I don't ask for much.... and it is Christmas eve, and all..."
"Well, this is getting ridiculous. I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off, as well?"
"Not at all, I love plotting the demise of humanity. Why would I be wanting a day off from that?"
Magneto looked a bit taken aback. "Oh. Well, good, then. Uh, I'll look into that clothes thing for you."
"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Yes. Good evening, Mystique."
Shaking his head, the Master of Magnetism walked down the hall to his personal quarters. With a flick of his hand, he opened the door and entered. Here was his most sacred spot, where he could go and truly be alone. He smiled up at his vintage Simon and Garfunkel poster. When he was rule of the world, he mused, he'd allow those two humans to remain. But only if they'd agree to reunite, for good this time. But... what was that? He stifled a scream. Art Garfunkel's smiling face had been replaced by that of Senator Kelly!
He blinked, and the poster righted itself. "How strange," he thought, then prepared himself for bed. He climbed beneath the covers, and was soon fast asleep. However, his sleep was disturbed. "Bells?" Magneto wondered. "That's absurd, I don't have any bells. I... oh." He recognized the sound as "Scarborough Fair", and chuckled nervously. "It's just my CD player, must have... turned itself on. That's all." He crossed the room to turn it off, but when he turned back towards his bed, he was amazed to see Senator Kelly standing in front of his bed. But... he was transparent, and wrapped in chains!
"Well, well, Senator," he said. "Some new aspect of your mutation?"
Kelly glowered. "No, I'm dead, you idiot. Dead as a doornail. Didn't you read the introduction?"
Magneto coughed. "Ah, I just skimmed it. Um. What are you doing here?"
"Don't you see the irony? I was consumed by my hatred for mutants, just as you're being consumed by your hatred for humanity. And Christmas. Jesus, you couldn't pass a twelfth-grade English class, could you? Think of the irony!"
"You came back from the dead to talk about irony?"
"Well, partly. Look, see these chains? I made them myself, out of my hate. You must change your ways, Erik. I'm here to warn you. Oh, and you'll be visited by three spirits."
"Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Look, I've got to run, I double-parked my ghostmobile."
"Wait, I've read this story, the spirits are supposed to come over three nights!"
"Yes, well, we're in a rush here. Bye!"
With that, the dead senator vanished.
"Humbug," said Erik, and he went back to bed.
But after an hour had passed, he once more awoke to bells. "Who's there?"
A soft voice, with a thick German accent, answered him. "I am!"
"Who are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. But in the Munich Circus, they called me the Incredible Nightcrawler!" came the reply. Magneto looked in the direction of the voice, and saw a most strange creature. His delicate face,framed by pointed ears, appeared to be blue. And he could swear he saw a tail peeking over his shoulder.
"Come and walk with me," said the spirit. Magneto rose, unsteadily, and took his hand. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when he heard an explosive noise and smelled sulphur. He felt a most strange sensation-- of being pulled through space and time-- and when he opened his eyes he found himself in his old hometown in Germany. "That's my old house!" he cried. "But... it was destroyed during the war."
"The war hasn't happened yet," replied the spirit. "Look through the window," he said. Erik did so, and saw himself, as a small child, along with his family.
"This is you as a child, your last Christmas before you were.. taken."
"But my family didn't celebrate Christmas! We're Jewish!"
The sound of muffled German cursing came from the spirit. "I... knew that. I was just testing your memory. Here, take my hand once more." They travelled back in time a few more days. "Look, here's you and your family's last Chanukah."
Erik watched through the window, as they prayed and lit candles. "I don't really understand what I'm meant to get from all of this."
The spirit seemed taken aback. "Well, look how happy you used to be."
"We were being persecuted! The Nazis were coming to power as we blindly ate latkes, pretending the war wouldn't come to us! This is not a happy memory, Spirit!"
"Oh. I mean... eh... want to see me do a backflip?"
"Can I just go back to bed now?"
The spirit took his hand, and they travelled back to Magneto's room. "Look, I'm sorry about all this, I'm kind of new... I just got promoted from being the Ghost of Arbor Day Past."
"Well, congratulations. And now, goodnight!" The spirit vanished, and Magneto returned to the domain of dreams. However, another hour passed, and he once more heard the strains of "Scarborough Fair." "This is getting old," he mumbled to himself. "Well, who's here now?"
A deep, Russian-accented voice answered. "It is I, the Ghost of Christmas Present."
Magneto looked over to see a silver giant. "Uh... naturally."
"Come, you will walk with me."
"Okay, but I'm already seeing someone."
The spirit just glared. He showed Erik Xavier's School. "This is how the X-Men will celebrate Christmas."
They wandered freely among the mansion, comfortably invisible.
"How did you guys know what I wanted?" a visibly moved Logan asked, looking happily at a box of cigars.
"Well, I am telepathic," laughed Jean.
"Oh yeah! I... ow!" Jean slapped him.
"No really, stop thinking about that."
Across the room, Scott and Charles were exchanging gifts. "Charles... you've been like a father to me. You've given me a place to say, and you had confidence in me when no one else did... and, well, this Christmas I wanted to get you something really special. I hope you like it."
"I'm sure I will, Scott, I... oh! A Chia pet! You know, I have always wanted one of these."
Erik and the spirit moved on. The younger X-Men were exchanging gifts. Kitty giggled as Bobby opened a box of condoms, but he just looked depressed.
Erik looked puzzled. "Who's that? Why is he so sad?"
The spirit laughed. "That's just Tiny Bob. He's... I'm not really sure why they call him that. Anyway, see that girl over there? With the white streak in her hair?"
"Oh yes, Rogue. I tried to kill her once."
"Ah, right. Well, she's his girlfriend, and..."
"Oh, death touch, right. So he has a hot girlfriend but they can't get down? That is tragic," he said. "Gosh, poor kid."
"Yes," agreed the spirit. "Well, I think you've seen all you need to see here."
"Hey, wait, isn't Kitty Jewish too?"
"Yes, but she's not all anal retentive about it like you. Let's go."
Magneto once more climbed into bed, wondering why he bothered.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come," the spirit announced.
"Quite the flair for drama you have there," he commented, noting her black cape and glowing eyes.
She glared. "Do you know what happens to a bad Dickens parody when it gets struck by lightning?" She paused, for effect. "The same thing that happens to everything else!" She chuckled. "Oh, I never get tired of that one. Anyway, come with me, Magneto. I will show you a Christmas... yet to come!" A brilliant flash of lightning light up Magneto's window.
"I could swear I didn't use to have a window. And besides, we're underground."
"By the Goddess! Just come with me!"
And so they walked down a crowded New York street. It was daytime, and people were talking excitedly.
"Let's listen," the spirit said. So they stopped to hear two men conversing.
"Well, I'm glad he's dead. He was stingy and evil."
"Yes, and he wouldn't give to our charity."
"Besides, that cape he used to wear was so Golden Age. Hello, who did he think he was?"
Magneto frowned. "Who are they talking about?" The spirit shushed him, and the two men continued their discussion, oblivious.
"And the way he used his mutant powers of magnetism to try to eradicate the human race, that was so annoying."
"Yeah, and he thought he was so great, just because he knew how to play chess. Whatever, real men play poker."
"I still don't get it. Who are they talking about?" The spirit sighed. "Keep listening."
"Yes indeed, I'm certainly thrilled that Magneto, Master of Magnetism, is dead."
"Yup, couldn't be happier. Anyway, I'd best be off, tell your wife I said merry Christmas!"
"Sure thing."
"You know," mused Magneto, "call me paranoid, but I could swear they were talking about me."
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come sighed. "Yes, that's the point. Nobody likes you. But wait, let's try elsewhere." And the next thing Magneto knew, they were inside Xavier's mansion.
"I'm sorry, sir, I know you two used to be close... but Erik Lehnsherr is dead," Scott said.
"Is he? Well, no big loss."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, you heard me."
"But sir... who will we have epic battles with now?"
"Well, I'm sure someone will come along soon enough." Charles patted Scott on the hand. "Run along, go open your Christmas presents now."
"Professor, I'm thirty-seven. Stop patronizing me."
"Actually, I believe it's pronounced patronizing, Scott."
Scott sighed, and walked out of the room.
Meanwhile, Erik and the spirit walked in on Bobby and Kitty making out.
"Oh no! What happened to Tiny Bob and Rogue?"
"Oh, they broke up. He couldn't deal with the whole no-touchy thing. And besides, she had a weird thing for Logan."
"Ew, he could be her dad!"
"Yeah, well."
"Well, this is tragic. Is there anything I can do to stop this from happening?"
"Not really. And I don't see how it's any of your business."
"This tale of woe has moved me. I will cease my evil ways."
"Wait, really? You will?"
"Yes. It's the least I can do."
"You do realize this is completely illogical, don't you?"
"Who cares? It's Christmas!"
A baffled Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come led Magneto back to his room. He smiled broadly. "Good night, Spirit! Thank you for all you've shown me."
"You're welcome, Magneto. Good night." She then vanished, leaving Magneto alone with his thoughts. He smiled, and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning, Erik awoke with the dawn. He got dressed, then scurried down to his Secret Kitchen of Evil. He was humming to himself when Mystique walked in.
"Erik?"
"Good morning, Mystique!"
"Hi. Um, what are you doing?"
"Baking a fruitcake!"
"Why?"
"Well, it wouldn't do to show up at Charles's Christmas party empty-handed, would it now?"
"Is it poisoned?"
"Of course not, don't be silly."
"So, you're bringing fruitcake... and then you'll blow up the building?" Mystique asked hopefully.
"How unspeakably rude that would be! Besides, it's Christmas."
"You're Jewish."
"Yes, but I can still respect the customs of others."
She regarded him suspiciously. "Um, you still want to destroy the human race, right?"
"Naturally. But even mutant masterminds need a day off every now and then. Oh, and here's a sweater. Merry Christmas, Mystique!"
"God bless us, every one!" Mystique's eyes widened in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just sort of slipped out."
--fin
by heyjupiter/Renata of Doom (renata@frowl.org) 12/31/03
Summary: Magneto learns a valuable lesson about Christmas. Or not.
PG
Movieverse, X2
Archive: Sure, just let me know. renata@frowl.org
Notes: The X-Men all belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, and whoever else. Not me. With apologies to Charles Dickens.
Senator Kelly was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. Old Senator Kelly was as dead as a doornail.
That is not, of course, to imply that doornails are particularly dead. Why, in certain hands the very atoms of a doornail can hum and sing with more life than many people are capable of. Yes, the doornail should not be overlooked. However, I am getting distracted from my main point, which is that: Senator Kelly was dead.
Now, then.
Once upon a time-- Christmas eve, as it happens-- Magneto was sitting in his Top Secret Hideout, once more going over his plans for world domination. His assistant, Mystique, sat shivering in the next room. As he pored over the details of his planned attack on the European Union, he was annoyed to hear a knock at the door. "Bother," he said, to no one in particular, "One would have hoped that living in a secret underground cave would have discouraged those pesky Girl Scouts. Although I do admit, those Thin Mints are rather tasty..." He ceased his monologue and answered the door, and found his old friend Charles sitting there.
"A merry Christmas to you!" exclaimed Charles.
"Humbug."
"Erik! Humbug to Christmas?"
Magneto fixed him with a withering glare. "Charles, I'm Jewish, you cad."
"Damn, should have known that. See, Erik, if you'd only take that helmet of yours off I could be much more precise in offering you my seasonal greetings..."
"Charles, that's the worst excuse you've come up with yet. What are you really here for?"
The telepath sighed. "Well, we were having a Christmas party at the school tomorrow, and I was hoping you'd join us."
"Well, sorry, old chap, but mutant world domination isn't going to plan itself, you know. I've got to keep working."
"Erik! Christmas is a good time, a charitable time... couldn't you give it a break for a day?"
"Charles, you keep Christmas in your way, and let me keep it in mine."
"Oh dear. Are you sure you won't come? We'll have a lovely big ham and--"
"Jewish, Charles! And how did you get down here, anyway?"
"It was a struggle, I admit. You know, Section 7 of the Americans with Disabilities Act specifically mentions Evil Lairs and Hideouts, I could have you written up for this."
"Humbug!"
"Well, it was lovely seeing you again, old friend, but I suppose I should be off. I need to hang my stockings by the chimney with care."
"Charles, when did you become a walking dictionary of cliches?"
"I imagine it all started around 1974. Merry Chr-- have a good evening, Erik!"
And with that he left, and Erik returned to his work. "Christmas. Humbug," he mumbled.
But he had hardly been working for five minutes when another knock interrupted him. "Oy gevault!"
So it was with a decidedly dark mood that he opened the door, to see two men standing there with earnest expressions. The man on the left smiled broadly. "Good evening, Mr..." he looked down at a clipboard, "Mr. Magneto!"
He sighed. "It's pronounced 'MagNEEto, not MagNETo, you incompetent buffoon."
"A thousand apologies, sir."
Here his partner stepped in to save him. "Ah, but who can be concerned with such trivialities on Christmas Eve?"
Magneto took a deep breath. "I'm... Jewish! Not to mention an evil supervillain!"
The man on the right looked a bit taken a back, but his partner continued on, oblivious. "Yes, but think of all those hungry, cold souls, with no one and nothing on Christmas Eve! And if you could give even five dollars..."
"You misunderstand me. If it were up to me, they'd all be dead!"
The man gasped. "On Christmas Eve?"
Blue fire began to crackle in Magneto's eyes. The more intelligent of the two gentlemen grabbed his partner, saying to Magneto, "Sorry to take up your time, sir.. merry Chr-- good evening!" He then pushed the door shut, dragging his partner away with him.
It was clear to him that he was not going to get much more work done this evening, so he decided to call it a night. He shut the door to his study, and ducked into Mystique's office. "Mystique?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm going to call it a night, I think. You're free to go do... whatever it is you do."
"Thank you. And..."
"Yes?"
"Well... I was wondering if I might have some clothes, sir? I mean... it's very cold in here, and you know I don't ask for much.... and it is Christmas eve, and all..."
"Well, this is getting ridiculous. I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off, as well?"
"Not at all, I love plotting the demise of humanity. Why would I be wanting a day off from that?"
Magneto looked a bit taken aback. "Oh. Well, good, then. Uh, I'll look into that clothes thing for you."
"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Yes. Good evening, Mystique."
Shaking his head, the Master of Magnetism walked down the hall to his personal quarters. With a flick of his hand, he opened the door and entered. Here was his most sacred spot, where he could go and truly be alone. He smiled up at his vintage Simon and Garfunkel poster. When he was rule of the world, he mused, he'd allow those two humans to remain. But only if they'd agree to reunite, for good this time. But... what was that? He stifled a scream. Art Garfunkel's smiling face had been replaced by that of Senator Kelly!
He blinked, and the poster righted itself. "How strange," he thought, then prepared himself for bed. He climbed beneath the covers, and was soon fast asleep. However, his sleep was disturbed. "Bells?" Magneto wondered. "That's absurd, I don't have any bells. I... oh." He recognized the sound as "Scarborough Fair", and chuckled nervously. "It's just my CD player, must have... turned itself on. That's all." He crossed the room to turn it off, but when he turned back towards his bed, he was amazed to see Senator Kelly standing in front of his bed. But... he was transparent, and wrapped in chains!
"Well, well, Senator," he said. "Some new aspect of your mutation?"
Kelly glowered. "No, I'm dead, you idiot. Dead as a doornail. Didn't you read the introduction?"
Magneto coughed. "Ah, I just skimmed it. Um. What are you doing here?"
"Don't you see the irony? I was consumed by my hatred for mutants, just as you're being consumed by your hatred for humanity. And Christmas. Jesus, you couldn't pass a twelfth-grade English class, could you? Think of the irony!"
"You came back from the dead to talk about irony?"
"Well, partly. Look, see these chains? I made them myself, out of my hate. You must change your ways, Erik. I'm here to warn you. Oh, and you'll be visited by three spirits."
"Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Look, I've got to run, I double-parked my ghostmobile."
"Wait, I've read this story, the spirits are supposed to come over three nights!"
"Yes, well, we're in a rush here. Bye!"
With that, the dead senator vanished.
"Humbug," said Erik, and he went back to bed.
But after an hour had passed, he once more awoke to bells. "Who's there?"
A soft voice, with a thick German accent, answered him. "I am!"
"Who are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. But in the Munich Circus, they called me the Incredible Nightcrawler!" came the reply. Magneto looked in the direction of the voice, and saw a most strange creature. His delicate face,framed by pointed ears, appeared to be blue. And he could swear he saw a tail peeking over his shoulder.
"Come and walk with me," said the spirit. Magneto rose, unsteadily, and took his hand. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when he heard an explosive noise and smelled sulphur. He felt a most strange sensation-- of being pulled through space and time-- and when he opened his eyes he found himself in his old hometown in Germany. "That's my old house!" he cried. "But... it was destroyed during the war."
"The war hasn't happened yet," replied the spirit. "Look through the window," he said. Erik did so, and saw himself, as a small child, along with his family.
"This is you as a child, your last Christmas before you were.. taken."
"But my family didn't celebrate Christmas! We're Jewish!"
The sound of muffled German cursing came from the spirit. "I... knew that. I was just testing your memory. Here, take my hand once more." They travelled back in time a few more days. "Look, here's you and your family's last Chanukah."
Erik watched through the window, as they prayed and lit candles. "I don't really understand what I'm meant to get from all of this."
The spirit seemed taken aback. "Well, look how happy you used to be."
"We were being persecuted! The Nazis were coming to power as we blindly ate latkes, pretending the war wouldn't come to us! This is not a happy memory, Spirit!"
"Oh. I mean... eh... want to see me do a backflip?"
"Can I just go back to bed now?"
The spirit took his hand, and they travelled back to Magneto's room. "Look, I'm sorry about all this, I'm kind of new... I just got promoted from being the Ghost of Arbor Day Past."
"Well, congratulations. And now, goodnight!" The spirit vanished, and Magneto returned to the domain of dreams. However, another hour passed, and he once more heard the strains of "Scarborough Fair." "This is getting old," he mumbled to himself. "Well, who's here now?"
A deep, Russian-accented voice answered. "It is I, the Ghost of Christmas Present."
Magneto looked over to see a silver giant. "Uh... naturally."
"Come, you will walk with me."
"Okay, but I'm already seeing someone."
The spirit just glared. He showed Erik Xavier's School. "This is how the X-Men will celebrate Christmas."
They wandered freely among the mansion, comfortably invisible.
"How did you guys know what I wanted?" a visibly moved Logan asked, looking happily at a box of cigars.
"Well, I am telepathic," laughed Jean.
"Oh yeah! I... ow!" Jean slapped him.
"No really, stop thinking about that."
Across the room, Scott and Charles were exchanging gifts. "Charles... you've been like a father to me. You've given me a place to say, and you had confidence in me when no one else did... and, well, this Christmas I wanted to get you something really special. I hope you like it."
"I'm sure I will, Scott, I... oh! A Chia pet! You know, I have always wanted one of these."
Erik and the spirit moved on. The younger X-Men were exchanging gifts. Kitty giggled as Bobby opened a box of condoms, but he just looked depressed.
Erik looked puzzled. "Who's that? Why is he so sad?"
The spirit laughed. "That's just Tiny Bob. He's... I'm not really sure why they call him that. Anyway, see that girl over there? With the white streak in her hair?"
"Oh yes, Rogue. I tried to kill her once."
"Ah, right. Well, she's his girlfriend, and..."
"Oh, death touch, right. So he has a hot girlfriend but they can't get down? That is tragic," he said. "Gosh, poor kid."
"Yes," agreed the spirit. "Well, I think you've seen all you need to see here."
"Hey, wait, isn't Kitty Jewish too?"
"Yes, but she's not all anal retentive about it like you. Let's go."
Magneto once more climbed into bed, wondering why he bothered.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come," the spirit announced.
"Quite the flair for drama you have there," he commented, noting her black cape and glowing eyes.
She glared. "Do you know what happens to a bad Dickens parody when it gets struck by lightning?" She paused, for effect. "The same thing that happens to everything else!" She chuckled. "Oh, I never get tired of that one. Anyway, come with me, Magneto. I will show you a Christmas... yet to come!" A brilliant flash of lightning light up Magneto's window.
"I could swear I didn't use to have a window. And besides, we're underground."
"By the Goddess! Just come with me!"
And so they walked down a crowded New York street. It was daytime, and people were talking excitedly.
"Let's listen," the spirit said. So they stopped to hear two men conversing.
"Well, I'm glad he's dead. He was stingy and evil."
"Yes, and he wouldn't give to our charity."
"Besides, that cape he used to wear was so Golden Age. Hello, who did he think he was?"
Magneto frowned. "Who are they talking about?" The spirit shushed him, and the two men continued their discussion, oblivious.
"And the way he used his mutant powers of magnetism to try to eradicate the human race, that was so annoying."
"Yeah, and he thought he was so great, just because he knew how to play chess. Whatever, real men play poker."
"I still don't get it. Who are they talking about?" The spirit sighed. "Keep listening."
"Yes indeed, I'm certainly thrilled that Magneto, Master of Magnetism, is dead."
"Yup, couldn't be happier. Anyway, I'd best be off, tell your wife I said merry Christmas!"
"Sure thing."
"You know," mused Magneto, "call me paranoid, but I could swear they were talking about me."
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come sighed. "Yes, that's the point. Nobody likes you. But wait, let's try elsewhere." And the next thing Magneto knew, they were inside Xavier's mansion.
"I'm sorry, sir, I know you two used to be close... but Erik Lehnsherr is dead," Scott said.
"Is he? Well, no big loss."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, you heard me."
"But sir... who will we have epic battles with now?"
"Well, I'm sure someone will come along soon enough." Charles patted Scott on the hand. "Run along, go open your Christmas presents now."
"Professor, I'm thirty-seven. Stop patronizing me."
"Actually, I believe it's pronounced patronizing, Scott."
Scott sighed, and walked out of the room.
Meanwhile, Erik and the spirit walked in on Bobby and Kitty making out.
"Oh no! What happened to Tiny Bob and Rogue?"
"Oh, they broke up. He couldn't deal with the whole no-touchy thing. And besides, she had a weird thing for Logan."
"Ew, he could be her dad!"
"Yeah, well."
"Well, this is tragic. Is there anything I can do to stop this from happening?"
"Not really. And I don't see how it's any of your business."
"This tale of woe has moved me. I will cease my evil ways."
"Wait, really? You will?"
"Yes. It's the least I can do."
"You do realize this is completely illogical, don't you?"
"Who cares? It's Christmas!"
A baffled Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come led Magneto back to his room. He smiled broadly. "Good night, Spirit! Thank you for all you've shown me."
"You're welcome, Magneto. Good night." She then vanished, leaving Magneto alone with his thoughts. He smiled, and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning, Erik awoke with the dawn. He got dressed, then scurried down to his Secret Kitchen of Evil. He was humming to himself when Mystique walked in.
"Erik?"
"Good morning, Mystique!"
"Hi. Um, what are you doing?"
"Baking a fruitcake!"
"Why?"
"Well, it wouldn't do to show up at Charles's Christmas party empty-handed, would it now?"
"Is it poisoned?"
"Of course not, don't be silly."
"So, you're bringing fruitcake... and then you'll blow up the building?" Mystique asked hopefully.
"How unspeakably rude that would be! Besides, it's Christmas."
"You're Jewish."
"Yes, but I can still respect the customs of others."
She regarded him suspiciously. "Um, you still want to destroy the human race, right?"
"Naturally. But even mutant masterminds need a day off every now and then. Oh, and here's a sweater. Merry Christmas, Mystique!"
"God bless us, every one!" Mystique's eyes widened in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just sort of slipped out."
--fin