DISCLAIMER: Now here's our favorite dyslexic Jedi out there… Yoda! X-Men belong to me don't. Stan Lee all own.

Rated M for strong language, violence, death, and a little sexual situations thrown in here and there. Takes place a few years after Day of Reckoning I.

Intro: a world without Professor Xavier proved very challenging. Magneto disappeared right after the mutant exposure and now he's back with a new radical plan. Will the X-Men save the world despite all the wrong it's done to them?

Eradication

'Zion'

By Therapist

He inhaled deeply, savoring the air as it invaded his lungs. After many months of smelling stagnant air, even this polluted sludge smelt like heaven. The moisture in the air made his arm slick with sweat, notifying him of the incoming rain. The looming black clouds far off to the north flashed ominously. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and reflecting his dark mood.

All the years of effort and yet, I never felt like how I feel right now. It was true. All his previous plans have always felt, to him at least, to be failures, doomed before even taking place. However, today, he can taste victory. A dark smile appeared on his face.

His hair fluttered slightly with the breeze. He remained unmoving as he stared at the ruins of his once home. The house was in disrepair. Thrown rocks broken all of the windows. Spray paint graffiti covered most of his walls. Yet, he could not be happier.

He was back home and he would make the world once again remember his name.

XXXXX

Pietro quietly dressed, pulling on his clothes as his current partner napped. Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. It wasn't out of affection, merely a ritual he performed after he was finished and before he left.

He couldn't recall her name and as soon as he'd step out of the house, he'd forget how she looked like, how she smelled, every detail making her another faceless woman, another notch on his belt. Despite not remembering much about her, he would always remember her cries of passion. Her oral proclamation only solidified his position of being the best lover out there.

Now thinking about it, he should have recorded that and kept it just in case he ever saw that cocky Cajun again.

He quickly gathered his belongings from the room. Giving the room a once over, he fled the house. Staying for the night was something he never did; it gave them false hope. He knew what he wanted and didn't want; he never wanted more than sex and staying longer could only cause trouble. Waiting until his lover or lovers fall asleep, he'd make his way home once he was sure they were asleep. Once, he had not waited and it was an awkward, unpleasant conversation that ended with her throwing everything imaginable at him. Granted, he was faster than all objects but still…

Stepping out the door, his body tensed immediately. The night was warm, moisture thick in the air. Something's not right. The air, the silence, the atmosphere was just wrong. It was rare for his senses to alert him like that, it has only happened a few times in the past. Straining his hearing, he tried to pick up any sound in the dead night. There's nothing there. His statement felt forced and he didn't believe himself. Shaking his head, trying to calm his nerves, he chastised his mind for being paranoid.

He took off. Yet, as he ran in the black night, his paranoia never ebbed, instead, it swelled, making his head reel. His body slowed down, coming to a halt in the middle of the street. As he came to a stop, he noticed the blackness of the night; it suffocated him. He scanned the area, turning his head wildly, his eyes squinting in the darkly lit street. It looked like he was the only one here on the road, yet that did nothing to calm his nerves.

He gave a squeal as the streetlight closest to him went out. Heart beating madly in his chest, he meekly called out, "Hello?"

The only response was a groan. He knew that sound, he knew it well. It's been a while since he heard it though, but his mind could never forget the groan of metal.

That same streetlight gave a whine before snapping violently in half. Sparks illuminated the semi-darkened street and he could make out the broken half of the pole heading for him. Instinct guided his body to the side, dodging the metal spear. His body rolled into a lawn, the grass cushioning his fall. Adrenaline coursed through his body. He rose quickly, his eyes seeking for his father. The night was still, devoid of crashing, screaming, and any sort of chaos. He yelped as the pole slammed near his foot, creating a crater in the soft ground. He rolled away and rose to his feet. The pole dislodged from the ground, dirt dripping from the end.

What the hell is going on? Where is that bastard hiding? He had no time to ponder that question, the pole was heading toward him and soon it was only a foot away from his face. Pietro narrowly avoided the floating dangerous weapon. It swung madly at him as if some invisible giant baseball player thought he was a baseball. He dodged every swing.

At this rate, I'll be out of energy before even finding that asshole. He knew he was right, he could already feel his energy levels dropping. Who knew how much time he had left? There was only one decision to make.

He made a break for it. As he ran down the street, he could hear the metal cutting through the air, chasing him. He pushed his body to go faster and everything became a blur around him. Yet, as he sped up, so did the pole. It's been a while since he used his powers this strenuously, he could feel the fatigue start to build up and his muscles burned with effort. Clothes ripped with every step, his shoes felt like molten lava on the bottom of his foot.

He turned his head to look, hoping that he wasn't being chased anymore. Murphy's Law stated that everything that could go wrong would go wrong. It was a fabulous time to kick in. If he were to have waited one second before looking behind, he would have noticed that rock that lay directly in his path. However, of course, life had a cruel sense of humor and today, Pietro would feel its effects. As his head rotated, his right foot connected with the rock. Everything slowed down as pain flooded his foot; he definitely broke something. He could imagine how comical he looked, as if he was a long jumper going for the world record. However, there was no sand to buffer him. He could only wince in pain as he dived for the concrete, headfirst and arm flailing. The concrete grated against his face and for a split second, he wondered if this was the end for him before darkness took over him.

XXXXX

He groaned as pain filled his mind and body. Every joint throbbed and screamed in protest as he shifted slightly. A slight whimper left his lips. It felt like someone crumpled his body into a ball and decided to play basketball with it.

He braved an eye open. Through the darkness, light peeled into his retina as his left eye opened slightly. The harsh white light blinded him, making him wince. Where the hell was he? And more importantly, where the hell was his goddamn nurse? There was no nurse waiting for him, with the sweet liquid of numbness. Straining his eye, he could make out a drip attached to his arm; one table in the corner opposite of him, and behind him stood the door. Ah, there was his escape. He tried to get his other eye open but it wouldn't listen to him. Okay, he didn't need that eye anyway, and he ordered his body to move.

"I wouldn't do that," a new voice suggested. Then in his view came the loveliest woman he'd ever lay eyes on. Gods, she's gorgeous, he thought as his eyes raked over her body. She sashayed into the room, her tight body encased in a nurse outfit that was too tight and short to be proper. Gracefully, she sauntered to his side. His heart pounded in his ears as her sweet perfume wafted through the room. She smiled sweetly at him, sticking something into his drip at the same time.

"You're left eye is swollen shut, you have a major concussion with cerebral swelling, two fractures on your ribs, a rather nasty face laceration, and a fractured toe," she informed him.

As he processed this information, warmth seeped into every pore of his body, easing his pain. Grinning like an idiot, he tried to ask for her name but all he managed was a croak. The girl smirked and she leaned closer to him. Sweet Buddha, her cleavage was practically in his face. God, what he would give to have an extra limb, he'd be a freak, but at least he'll be a freak fondling the sweetest pair of breasts on the planet.

Her warm breath caressed his face as it inched closer to his. "If you behave, I might give you a reward," she whispered suggestively. He licked his lips. Jesus, he wanted to take her right now, on the ground, his injuries be damned.

The smirk on her face grew as if she knew what was going through his mind. He wondered…Fucking whore.

A gasp escaped from her lush red lips, making him smirk at her. "So, telepath, where's my father?" he asked, humorously. Slightly angry at himself and at the world, he eyed down the mind reader. She returned his glare with a pout.

"You're no fun," she whined. "You're much smarter than the others."

He kept his face neutral and threw up his shields, just as his father had taught him. It was probably all for naught, but it made him feel better that she would have to make an effort to get into his mind.

"Emma, stop teasing my son," his father said. That bastard waltzed in the room and stepped beside his whore. A low growl informed him that Emma didn't enjoy the label he'd bestowed upon her. Though strapped down to the bed, he still managed to flick them off.

Magneto ignored his gesture, his face stoic as he gazed over at him. Rage bubbled deep inside his chest, searing him, suffocating him. Pietro opened his mouth, and then closed it, his fury preventing him from speaking. Millions of words, mostly curses, ran through his head, but it seemed that his mind and mouth were not working together.

"I have formed a new team and I would like you to be on my team."

Pietro fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, for getting his hopes up and for the disappointment he felt. What did you expect? Perhaps you were hoping for a fatherly hug and questions of your wellbeing? Stop wishing for your father to change; he will always be what he is, a calculating machine.

A sad sigh escaped his lips. He couldn't help it; a boy could dream, right? Covering his misery with a sneer, he croaked, "What? No hug dad? No grand tale of where you've been all this time and why the hell you've decided to came back into my life?" the last part he spat out.

"It is not important where I have been," he replied, waving his hands as if they were trivial questions, "what is important is that I am here for you, son."

Laughter erupted from his mouth, sharp and mirthless. "You're here for me?" he couldn't believe his father. "So when you were trying to play baseball with that damn pole and my fucking head, that was you, being there for me?"

His father gave him a cold smile. "I am sorry about the injuries you sustained son, but it was necessary that I retrieved you."

That did it; he blew up. "You could have asked dad!" Magneto looked thoughtful as if it never came to mind, which only fueled his rage. "You could have killed me! Did you even think of that?"

"If I wanted to kill you, son, I would have done it already," his voice even. Pietro hated him right there, even more than before. His father was a picture of coolness, never giving into his emotions, something he, himself, struggled with. Emma cleared her throat, official ending the staring contest between them.

She smiled brightly at him; he snarled at her. "Pietro, this is Emma and she will be taking care of you." His scowl deepened and he flicked her off again, making Emma flash him a bright smile.

Erik, for his part was still, looking at him over the bridge of his nose. His cool gaze never left his and he could feel the old, familiar fear of him start to rise. Finally, he averted his gaze, cursing his fear of his father.

"My offer is still on the table son," he said as he was retreating. Pietro told him what he could do with that offer. Magneto stopped by the doorway, his face giving away his internal struggle. Fixing him with a severe glare, Pietro shrunk back into his pillow.

"Fuck!" he cursed, scrunching his blanket into his fist. He just wanted to get out of here, why couldn't his father see that?

XXXXX

His recovery took longer than expected. True, most of it was his fault; sitting still was not his forte. His sanity slowly slipped away with each ticking of the clock. Time seemed to have slow to a crawl just for him, driving him to the brink of madness. There was no sound in this place, as if all life ceased to exist in these walls. He tried vainly to listen for noise, yelling on the top of his lungs every time he thought he heard something. Yet, no one answered his call.

Now, he upgraded from being completely tied to the bed to having his wrists were free, allowing him some movement; yet, his legs remained cuffed to the bed. That was just a precaution, as he didn't have any of his powers, most likely due to the fancy collar attached to his neck. Any sort of tampering led to electric shocks that coursed through his body and definitely made him think twice about doing anything about the collar. Emma came in, breaking him out of his musings. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she hid something behind her hands.

"Left or right?" she sang. He glared at her and stayed silent. "Come on," she said, rocking on the balls of her feet, "pick a side."

The road to recovery was much more painful than what it should have been because of her. Some days she was nice, staying silent and just giving him his damn pills. Looks like it's going to be a good day. It was a good sign when she came in smiling, even when it was tinged with maliciousness. He had learned to read her, he had nothing else to do in here, so he did anything to pass the time and relieve his boredom.

"Left," he snorted. She brought her left hand from hiding and opened her hand, revealing nothing. Of course, he always lost at these games.

"Aw, looks like I won again. Guess I just have natural luck," her voice sweet. Everything about her grated him. Her voice, laugh and even how she looked, disgusted him. It was a contest now to see whom he hated more, her or his father. His father's winning, but by a very narrow margin.

He made a swipe for the pills and she yanked it away from his grasp, as always. Sneering, he shouted, "Just give me my damn pills and fuck off." She pouted as he started to swear at her.

"Don't be like that. You know, if you'd been a good boy, you would've been out of here already."

She dangled his pills in his face, knowing of his need for them. Never would he have thought himself to be an addict. It wasn't in his personality to become one. Usually everything bored him; women, gambling, drinking, everything he tried, it usually did. Because of his metabolism, every type of altering substance he tried was metabolized too quickly for him to feel any sort of effect. Thanks to this damnable collar around his neck, it not only suppressed his powers but also allowed him to get high. Though he loathed admitting it, he enjoyed it. The drugs…the way it numbed him and his pain. The high, the transition for sober to floating, it always got to him. Then the horrible downing, the depression, the pain, and the hunger to get back his previous high, it was something he didn't want to deal with.

He made a grab and she pulled them inches from his reach. Groaning, he strained to reach the pills; every time his fingertips touched them, she lifted them just out of his grasp. He slumped back and she took to swinging the bag in front of his face. The baggie became a pendulum as he watched it swing back and forth. The sheets beneath his fingers twisted as he tried to curb his anger.

"What's wrong Pietro?" she cooed. If you keep beating a dog, it'll eventually bite back one day. Today, he was biting back.

His arm lashed out, knocking the bag out of her grasp. The clatter of pills smacking the wall only made him angrier. A gasp left those pretty lips before he silenced her as his gripped her neck tightly. He felt oddly calm. Yanking her closer so their nose touched, her breath wheezed onto his face. Fear danced in her eyes and he crowed with triumph internally. Voices in his mind were telling, commanding him to let her go; his anger drowned them out.

"I'm tired of your fucking games, Emma," he spat, "from now on every time you come in here, just give me my damn pills and get the fuck out. Or do I have to teach you a lesson?" his voice hard and his hold on her throat harder. Her eyes bugged and her skin took on a bluish tinge.

Despite his hold, she managed to shake her head. Reeling his empty fist back, he watched gleefully as she began to struggle earnestly. His arm swished through the air, connecting solidly with her cheek. She flew into the wall and crumpled into a heap. Coughing, her hands kneaded her tender neck as blood poured from her mouth; broken pieces of teeth came out with her spit. Then the shaking started, first her body, then the entire room.

She screamed and intense pain filled his head. Instinctively, his hands flew to cradle his head and he heard a strangled cry spew from his lips. Unbelievable pressure filled in head, he was sure that his head would explode. He heard screaming and soon found out the screams were coming from him. Thousands of knives stabbed his brain, making tears spring from his eyes.

Voices were screaming in his head, screaming for him to stop. He just wanted them to stop. He hoped to die and end the pain.

His vision started to darken around the edges. Good, the pain would stop soon. He heard the door open but before he could see who have come, darkness claimed him.

XXXXX

His first conscious thought was that he was dead this time. Seconds after consciousness, pain racked his body. A meek moan left his lips as every muscle, nerve, and cell burned. Sweat slicked his skin and he wished death would come to him.

He slowly opened his one good eye, then immediately regretted it. The walls loomed closer to him; panic seized him. He tried to move, yet, his body didn't respond to his commands. The walls edged in slowly, a foot away from him. He could hear his heartbeat in his chest and he could feel his stomach starting to turn.

"Son, do you wish for the pain to stop?" his father asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

Opening his mouth to answer yet, his mouth was so dry he could only manage a croak. The room began to spin and he felt the bile in his stomach rise. Trying to answer again, vomit spewed forth, spraying his sheets and himself.

Even though he had vomit all over him and still dripping from his lips and chin, he managed a smile. The spinning had stopped, much to his relief. The wall to his left loomed over him, catching his eye. It was close, so close it almost touched him, yet, as he reached for it, it was if it were miles away. The spinning had stopped but the walls began to move closer to him. Claustrophobia began to seep in along with panic. Heart thumping madly in his chest, his breaths came out in rapid puffs, hurting his chest with every ragged breath. As his panic began to rise, the walls closed in faster. Tears pricked his eyes as he could only watch it come closer to him, taking up his space, crushing him.

"Please make it stop," he wept. He glanced at his father, who stood next to him. His stoic father remained unmoving as the walls pressed against him. Why weren't the walls crushing him?

"What will you do for me?"

He was dying and his father wanted to make deals. God, the pain was so bad and he could feel the walls pressing against his arms.

"I'll do anything, just make it stop!" he sobbed.

Magneto gave a slight nod and Emma, still bearing bruises on her neck and left cheek, walked in with a syringe. She injected it into his I.V. A warm glow entered his body spreading rapidly to every part. The pain stopped and the walls were no longer moving. A smile graced his lips; he didn't know why he wanted to die. He felt so good now, happy even.

Emma came next to him; something in her eyes had changed. No longer bright and mischievous, they bore into his, cold and calculated.

"Pietro, I do not take oaths lightly," Magneto's voice resonated in the room. Pietro tore his eyes away from hers to look at his father. "It's not like before. Now, when you plead allegiance with me, it's to the death."

Pietro shook his head. His head was fuzzy and he had a hard time focusing on his father and even harder time listening to what he was saying. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Before, I had let my underlings get away with many things but not anymore. You gave me your word, Emma here will make sure you will always keep it."

His gaze shifted back to her. All warmth, friendliness was gone from her face. She was a replica of his father, stone cold. "That's right, Pietro. I'll be right there to watch you," her voice icy, "one toe out of line, that's all I need."

Her words filled him with dread. What kind of devil's contract did he sign?

XXXXX

The War Room contained only one large oval table, littered with a dozen chairs and a single computer along with a projection screen. Though money was never really a big concern for him, he has always been careful with his spending. Too much could bring unwanted attention to him, though he was confident that he could handle whatever they decided to throw at him. What he didn't want was every acronym in the world coming after him; he already had the DEA, CIA, DOD, FBI, CDC, DA, DARPA, NSA, DIA and others he surely forgot trying to locate and 'acquire' him. One country and its organizations was enough for him…for now.

"Pietro's asleep," Emma said as she entered.

The first thing he had done when he came back was to find a lieutenant. Losing Mystique had turned into a blessing when he happened upon Emma.

Despite being a terrorist, he still received invitations for dinners, fundraisers, functions, and whatnots. His contributions to the medical field, engineering, and technology meant that many wanted his knowledge, devices, and more importantly, his support.

He played with one invitation that stood out from the rest. Though plain in comparison, it caught his attention. Perhaps it was an invitation for Magneto rather than Erik was what had caught his eye. It was from Frost International. He had heard about them before, about their state-of-the-art technology and various transportation vehicles. And he had heard about their charismatic CEO, Emma Frost, though young, very experienced in business and hostile takeovers.

More out of curiosity than obligation, he accepted the dinner invitation. That night, he could hardly believe the amount of people crammed into the room. It wasn't just any people but generals, CEO's, presidents and other people of high power, which should have made him nervous, yet they paid him no mind. True he wasn't dressed in his normal garb but in a smart Italian suit, he thought his face wasn't one easily forgotten.

As he sipped 1907 Heidsieck champagne and nibbled on some Almas caviar on a cracker, he was impressed by the grandness of the party. Most of the time, the hosts try to hard to make it seem as if they were wealthy and in most cases, important. Yet, Emma didn't have to do that. She oozed confidence, importance, and wealth.

The crowd parted and there she appeared, in a white strapless dress, very low-cut; she greeted guests as she made her way to him. Finally reaching him, he gave her a slight bow, which she returned with one of her own.

"Erik, so glad you made it," she said.

"Surely that generic line might appease the other guests but it will not for me," he countered.

She smiled at his observation. "Forgive me Magneto, spending time with high society makes one learn to have a conversation yet reveal nothing."

"Tell me why no one recognizes me."

"Oh, you noticed that?" she remarked. "As you probably figured out, I am a mutant just like you."

True, he had figured it when he first entered; he just wanted confirmation on his suspicions. He nodded in affirmation.

"One doesn't get to be CEO of Forbes top 100 companies from looks alone. Ever since I was little, I knew I was different and when my powers manifested, it only confirmed my beliefs. And I've used my powers to obtain all that I wanted."

"Very impressive Miss Frost. Now you probably know, we have very similar desires. You crave power and I crave the human species on their knees before us."

"And what will I gain out of it? I already got power, enough money to buy a country, what could you possibly give me that I can't buy or get?"

He began to circle her, studying her. "Despite what you may think, money does not guarantee happiness. I know your type Emma; you're smart yet you bore easily, which explains why your company is always trying to enter new markets. True you can control people through your mind, yet nothing is quite satisfying as earning something without using subterfuge. Furthermore, you've seen what men do to each other. You've seen its ugliness. I am offering you a chance to shape the future to ensure our survival."

She contemplated his offer. "If I didn't know better, I would've thought you were psychic Magneto."

"Professor Charles Xavier was and still is my friend, despite our differences in opinions. I have learned a trick or two from him."

Upon hearing his name, she nodded in understanding. "I have met Charles before. Great man though weak at times."

This piqued his interest. "How so?"

"The man has no backbone. Something as great as telepathy needs to be utilized, yet he prefers to live like a normal human. When we first met, I invaded him mind."

Magneto chuckled. He could see her doing that and know that Charles wouldn't stop her. "And what did you see?"

"Nothing! If he could prevent me from seeing anything, he could have kept me out."

"And what would you do if your powers were as great as Xavier's?" he asked.

"I would rule the world," she replied with a smile.

After that fateful meeting and conversation, he knew he had to have her by his side. A few more meetings and late night discussions and he had her by his side. Unlike the others, Emma had his full trust and acted as his confidant.

"We secured Pietro but it'll be weeks before he's ready to do anything," Emma commented.

"Yes and how are the others?" he asked.

"Most of them are almost ready to start training. We need more help. I cannot keep an eye on everyone. These kids are so green, we have to start from square one."

He sighed as he learned this news, though perfection couldn't be rushed, he didn't think it would take this long. He was usually a patient man but all that patience disappeared leaving him antsy. It was an unfamiliar sensation and he did not enjoy feeling like this.

"Yes we do need help," Emma commented as she looked over the roster. "How can we have a psychic that doesn't know how to read minds? Did you see this list Erik?"

He nodded. Before he was selective on who joins the Acolytes but he sees now that he may have been too selective. Now, as long as they pass a psychic examination and swear allegiance to him and pledge, they could join.

Throwing the list down, Emma could only make a disgusted sound. "Where will we get the people to help?"

Erik smiled. "We need the Brotherhood and the X-Men."

Well, there's one chapter down, only…um, yeah, I'm not going to lie, I don't even know how many are left. It's been years since I have posted anything, due to lack of confidence and an extreme case of writers block. But now I'm back and I'm ready to delivery. I love reviews and criticism. So, don't be afraid to give it to me. Yeah, go ahead, push that button, and make my day!

09/13/2014

Sorry about the long wait. I'm editing and updating these chapters. Life has a way of pushing everything you once loved on the backburner and I'm sad that this was one those things. Hopefully, I'll get inspired to write more but with school, work, husband and baby, I may not have as much time as before. But please be patient with me. I haven't finished anything before and I would love to change that with this series and I ask for you patience. Leave me some love and thanks for reading, you guys are awesome!

5/22/2017: Editing and adding a few things as I write new chapters. A few years later and things have changed for me (Still got school, watching my kid, but no husband) and it reminds me that even best laid plans can go to shit. New chapter coming soon.

therapist