**Story Note: Set in my "Dark and Shameful Past" AU, this occurs a few years before DSP, and gives perspectives from the surviving and prominent mutants in this world.**

Good. The new mutant was right across the river, and was alone and alive.

He adjusted his jacket. This was the tricky part. He tapped the button and held his breath. His image flickered, then mostly vanished, other than a few streaks of red hanging in the air.

He cursed, then closed his eyes and centered himself. Calm. He could not help anyone if he did not act rationally and objectively.

He smoothly cut into the river. The guards were laughing softly about something and did not notice him. Good.

He got onto the docks and hid behind a barrel. This was not the way he preferred to do things, but since the Mutant Murders, he had done a lot of things he disliked. He turned off his invisibility device, then started walking briskly toward town.

The new mutant was in an alley not three blocks away. He heard moans as he approached. He nodded. It was a good thing he had told the healer back at the camp that he might be needed.

She was a teenaged girl, bruised and battered, and she cringed away from him as he came closer. Her legs were bent at odd angles, and her eyes were glazed.

Control yourself, Erik. At least this one was still alive.

"Don't worry. I am here to help you, child." She looked at him, eyes full of pain, and he forced a smile. "First, we have to get you out of here."

He managed to smuggle the girl across the river with no problems. For once, everything happened as planned. He thanked the God he'd lost faith in years before.

He gave the girl to the healer, then went back to his home. Mystique was there, cleaning and loading the guns. She smiled as he entered. "Erik! How did it go?"

He sighed. "Better than some, worse than others." He kissed her gently, then sat down hard. "I wish, sometimes, my plans to rule the world had worked out. Then mutant children would never be beaten and abused."

She nodded. "Bad enough, then." She put the rifle down and rubbed his shoulders soothingly. "I should go see her?"

He sighed. "Probably. She'll survive, and she'll need to know where she is and what's going on. I don't think she'd listen to me."

His wife stroked his cheek. "I think she will eventually. I did."

He smiled, then put his head down on the table as she left. Magneto, Master of Magnetism, never cried ... but Erik Lensherr, co-leader of the mutant resistance in Mexico, found it hard to hold back sometimes.