"Did you need to hit me at all Raven, or shoot me?" Erik muttered in a groggy growl as he propped himself up on his good arm, "Did you not think at all?" he queried, but before she had the chance to reply he spoke again, hearing the angry voices approach, "And now it seems they're onto us."
"Well sorry." she snapped like a petulant teenager, "It's not my fault you were stupid enough to bust into my bust."
"Why are you here Raven?" Erik sighed, he didn't have time to argue with her right now. He'd doubted Stryker would bring the women along who'd attacked Peter, and he had been right. But killing Stryker wasn't good enough, he needed to kill the others. He needed to make sure that Peter would never be harmed by them ever again. He needed to kill the Doctors, and the only way to find them was to follow Stryker to them.
"Same reason as you."
"I doubt that."
"Oh? Mr Self-Righteous suddenly changed his targets?"
"Need to know, Raven." Erik muttered.
"I should get to know!"
"It would do no one any good if you did. But let's just say that I'm doing the mutant population a service."
"That's what I'm doing!" she protested, "So why are your reasons any different?"
"This is not the time Raven." Erik snapped and knelt down by Arthur, taking the gun from his belt.
"What are you doing?" she asked him as he laid a plastic disk out on the ground. The bullet pierced the tracer and it shattered into dozens of razor edged pieces. It would cause them no trouble any longer.
"Taking care of a problem." he replied, stuffing the gun into the pocket of his own light jacket.
Mystique sighed, Erik had deserved it right? He'd deserved being shot in the shoulder. He'd tried to kill her, shot her in the leg, damned their race to hatred. She shot him in the neck, somehow, they didn't seem to quite balance out. She let out a little yawn to clear her head from her doubt as Erik lifted a hand up towards the cars and tore the box, through which Stryker had tracked him down, out of the car, concentrating silently as it flew through the air towards him. The cars were no more than half a kilometre away from them, yet the amount of effort Erik had expended in moving a simple box was ridiculous, his shoulder needed fixed up, quickly. Nevertheless, he focused intently on the machine, tearing it apart from the inside out until nothing was left but a shrivelled hunk of plastic and metal lying on the ground.
"Let's go." Erik ordered, "Charles will have figured out what I've done by now and set up a search and rescue. He really does hate to be left out, I've noticed." he informed her as he began to stalk off to the side. They needed to get off the road, and quickly. Stryker's men were minutes behind them and neither mutant fancied an encounter with a bullet.
Raven wanted to ask him what he was doing with Charles but knew that this was not the time, "No Erik." she shook her head as she followed him into the darkness, "I have unfinished business with them." she grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her.
"Very well," Erik replied, he didn't have the patience to argue, "Then, whilst you're in his company I need you to find the location of a Dr Alves and her associates." he told her, "Call Charles once you know."
"Hold up. What makes you think I'm going to help you? After everything that happened last year?"
"Raven." he said sternly, "I need you to do this. Trust me. I will explain everything once Stryker and the doctors are dead."
Raven bit her lip, frowning curiously at him as she let go of his arm, "I'll only do this if you explain to me exactly what is going on."
"Raven, there is no time for that now." Erik reminded her, eyes darting towards the source of the murmur of voices in the distance.
"Fine. Then forget it."
"Call the mansion at eight o'clock in two days' time, I'll explain then. But not before."
Raven scowled at her former crush, "Alright. Now get out of here." She snapped, unsure if she would even make the call or not. She had two days to decide.
"Thank you Raven." Erik replied, and for a moment she wondered if, for once, he actually meant it.
Both mutants shared one last glance before turning on each other and disappearing off. Erik to the shadows. Raven to the site of their scuffle with Arthur. He was a liability; he'd seen her transform and could easily let the others know who – and what – she was. Grabbing his ankles in her hands, she began to drag him across the tarmac and into the bushes on the verge. Hopefully he'd stay unconscious until she and Stryker's men had long since vanished. With a grunt and a heave, she rolled the body down into the ditch, praying no one would see it. She transformed back into Johnson and a dark bruise blossomed on her forehead as she lay down on the ground, she had to make it look realistic didn't she?
"Johnson?" Merriot called as he jogged over, "Johnson are you okay?" he asked, shaking the body of, who he thought was, his comrade.
"I'm sorry..." Mystique slurred, cracking her eyes open weakly, "Arthur, Dakin Arthur. He was one of them. One of the mutants." she spat distastefully as she ran a hand down her male face, "He just... just grabbed Lehnsherr and teleported away. I don't know where. I'm sorry. They knocked me out before I could do anything." she whimpered, hoping to heaven that she was putting on a good enough display.
"Let's get you into the truck man, we should get you checked out. You might have a concussion. I'll let the boss man know what went down." Merriot told her as he stood back up again, motioning for two of his subordinates to help Raven up as he slowly himself made his way over to his boss, William Stryker. He didn't want to be the one to tell Stryker because, after all, it was always the messenger that got shot. But he had to; he was the commanding officer one rank below Stryker; he was the man's second in command.
"What happened?" Stryker demanded, temporal vein looking fit to burst as rage radiated across his features.
"Arthur was a mutant, sir. Teleporter according to Johnson. Knocked him out and took Lehnsherr with him." Merriot replied, voice only just remaining calm on the exterior but heart pounding from terror of his boss, all he could do was silently plead: don't shoot the messenger, don't shoot the messenger.
"Teleporter?" Stryker muttered, that didn't explain how his own voice had been used without his permission. Although, it was the case that some mutants did have secondary mutations. Arthur could very well have been one of those, he reasoned. Though how hadn't he seen it? A mutant under his own roof? It seemed impossible; yet there it was, plain as the day. "Tighten security. I want everyone checked. And if you find any mutants that I haven't authorised to be here, shoot them."
"Bloody Raven." Erik thought to himself as he sat back in the abandoned house which he'd previously feigned staying in. Light lit, he took a closer inspection at the wound in his arm. The bullet was still embedded, though there was nothing he could do about that whilst still here. He needed to get to a hospital. He needed to find somewhere out of the way; in a small town where he was unlikely to be recognised as Magneto: The Mutant Terrorist; somewhere where he could recoup and allow his arm to repair. He stood with a sigh, he'd stayed in here long enough. Placing a hand to the bullet wound, he stepped out of the door and strolled as calmly as he could down the ruined road. He would come across his car soon enough; he could taste the hum of the metal in the air as he approached where he knew it would be.
Before long, the mutant was seated in familiar surroundings, grimacing through the pain in his shoulder as the sleek car tore through country lanes, aiming for the nearest hospital or medical centre. Luck, for once, seemed to be on his side. A little 24 hours' clinic was stood waiting for him at the edge of a one-road-town. It probably served all the towns, villages and farms within a half hour's drive of the area.
Evidently, it was a quiet town and a quiet area, probably seeing little more than two broken arms and a tickly throat a year. He walked in as a warrior, doors swinging shut behind him and arm drenched with his own blood. Yet he still seemed in perfect composure. The woman behind the desk stared in awe, for a good while she had no idea what to say. They never saw anything as serious as this.
"Doctor!" she yelled, hopping to her feet, "It's an emergency! Like, a real one! Bloody real and blood and oh holy shit I don't know what I'm supposed to do so please get in here quickly" she added in one rapid-fire breath as she ducked under the counter and ran over to the man, "Oh my fucking God. What in hell happened, sir?" she asked him as she stood before him, gaping in confusion as she stared at the blood.
"I swear Ashley, if this is another splinter I will –" The doctor stopped as soon as he came through the swinging doors and took in the sight of the man and the blood. His heart skipped a beat. For once he could be a real doctor. "Right this way sir." he said quickly, ushering Erik through the swinging doors and to the examination room, "Ashley I need you to get me a sterile suture kit." he instructed as Erik calmly followed the man.
"You ask no questions, and your life continues on as normal." Erik said harshly as he took a seat, removing his hand from his shoulder and slipping off the bloodied jacket. Ashely came bumbling into the room, gawping a little as Erik removed his shirts. He may have been way too old for her, but damn... he was a looker. A pointed look from both the doctor and the shirtless patient brought her out of her musing.
Doctor Arkins was frowning at his patient as he began to clean the wound, "I'm supposed to inform the police if I come across any injuries like yours. Like bullet wounds."
"Let's call this a special case in which you'll keep quiet." his patient replied, a stern finality carried across through his words that could make a shiver run down the spine of even the sternest woman.
Arkins' frown deepened, evidently he didn't want to comply but something about this man was telling him that he'd be a fool not to. "Just hold on there a second. I need to get something to numb your shoulder."
"Just get on with it, I can handle a little pain. I'm handling a bullet wound aren't I?"
Arkins had to admit the man had a point, he'd never seen anyone so well composed whilst sat in a doctor's office. Granted, not many people even had cause to enter his office. But still, his point stood. "Alright." he muttered, hesitating momentarily before reaching into the wound with a pair of metal tweezers and fishing out the bullet. At least, it looked like a bullet. Though it wasn't one he'd ever seen before, made from glass or plastic or something. Just who the hell was this man?
The transparent bullet landed on the silver tray with a clatter and the doctor began, with shaking hands, to stitch up the wound his patient had suffered. All the while, Ashley watched on from the corner of the room, eyes wide as she took every detail in. She'd never seen a procedure like this before. All her job usually entailed was booking appointments for people with a cough and sending clumsy children through to get fixed by the resident doctor.
Erik's face remained stoic as the doctor worked. He wouldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt but he had, in his life, experienced so much worse. A bullet wound and stitches were no cause for a cry or a grimace. The only cause for the severity of the expression on his face was the simple fact that Stryker, and his torture team, were all still alive. He would have to return to the mansion having achieved nothing. But he would try again, and again if he had to. He knew, Charles knew, Magda knew, that he would not rest until he was certain that the world had been liberated from Stryker and, most importantly, that his son was under no threat from the bastard.
It was easing into morning when Erik drove up the mansion's driveway, tyres crunching across the gravel beneath. But the first thing he saw as he stepped out the car was not the disapproving gaze of his former lover, it was the piercing black open eyes of Peter as he leant against the window ledge of his make-shift hospital room.
"Peter. Magda." he greeted them both, bowing his head formally as he made his way inside – top half covered by only a t-shirt he'd been given by the doctor; he couldn't very well walk back in covered in his own blood now could he?
"Erik." Madga sighed, biting her lip, "Did you?"
"No. There were… complications." Erik replied, walking through to the kitchen, "But I will."
"Good." Magda said with a rigid nod, "I want that bastard to pay. And everyone else who played a part in this."
"I was expecting you to tell me to find another way."
"Neither of us are the people we fell in love with, Erik. I want that evil rat dead as much as the next man. Even if the next man is you."