"This is not what I wanted, my boy."
Magneto looked almost sad standing there, gripping his cape tightly in his fingers.
Marcos hadn't known that it was possible for Magneto to show emotion, and something about the rawness of it all made Marcos want to reach out and place a reassuring hand on the other mutant's shoulder. But people had lost limbs for less, so Marcos kept his hands to himself.
When Magneto turned, his cape followed the motion with a flourish. He reached up and plucked the helmet from his head. Without the helmet, Magneto looked almost human.
It struck Marcos that the man standing before him must be nearly a century old. Magneto had been born in the 1920's. He was a Holocaust survivor, and his eyes told the tale of a man who had seen horrors. His body, however, was strong for a man in his nineties. He looked seventy at most, his hair stark white and his face lightly wrinkled.
"I lost a daughter, you see," Magneto said. "After, I never thought I would have children again, but when I did, I had to keep them safe. And to keep them safe, that meant keeping them away."
Marcos nodded. Because in all honesty, Magneto's sacrifice had kept Lorna safe for all these years. Mutant children were at enough risk without having that particular target painted on their backs.
"So, where have you been all these years?" Marcos said lightly. He didn't expect Magneto to answer. The mutant underground was tight-lipped about such things. It was just some small talk to pass the time.
Magneto eyed Marcos, and Marcos rubbed his hair nervously under Magneto's gaze.
"Krakoa," Magneto said, pacing across the room.
Marcos almost lost his footing. He was trying to maintain eye contact with Magneto without walking after the older man.
"Wait, what?"
"Krakoa, the sentient mutant island," Magneto elaborated.
"I'm familiar," Marcos said.
Every mutant was. Who wasn't familiar with the most famous sentient mutant island in the world? Krakoa had also been the first foe faced by the most famous iteration of the X-Men. It had a prominent place in mutant history.
"Long story short," Magneto began, "Krakoa's an X-Man now. I'm an X-Man now. The X-Men have extended an open invitation to any mutant, friend or foe."
"What does Charles Xavier think about that?"
Magneto opened his mouth, but then the door flew open, and Lorna burst into the room in a wave of green energy. Her green hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, and she ran up to Marcos and threw her arms around his shoulders.
"Sorry," she said, her words muffled by Marcos's sweater, "I shouldn't have stormed out like that. It's just hard sometimes."
He hugged her back. "That's okay. It's given me some quality bonding time with your dad." Inwardly, a voice within Marcos told him to seize this opportunity to flee Magneto's presence.
Oddly, Magneto seemed to have had the same idea. He had inched toward the door during the embrace but froze when Lorna let go of Marcos and turned toward her dad.
"So?" Marcos said, "What does Xavier have to say about all of that?"
His eyebrows knitting together, Magneto paused. "It was his idea," Magneto said. "And you're all welcome to join us, all of you here are welcome."
"There's something you're not telling me," Lorna said. "What's changed?"
"Nothing."
It came out brusquely, and Magneto's face softened when Lorna stepped back as if burned.
"No, not nothing," Magneto amended. "It's the mutant you found, Clarice. Cerebro located her, and she's exactly what we need, exactly what we've been waiting for—a mutant who can teleport on a grand scale. Who can open literal doors for us."
He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that only a supervillain could muster, a sinister smile that sucked the life out of the room. It was the way the light bounced off his upper face and cast a dark shadow over the lower portion of his face.