Erik put his helmet back on as he followed Doom's flunky down the hall, and once again was struck by the difference in his thoughts and emotions. This time he had to acknowledge to himself that there was more to it than simple psychology. His helmet, which blocked all forms of mental transmission, was shielding him from something connected to Grace, something which made him feel more intensely for her than he otherwise did.

The question is, who is doing this, and why? Is it Charles? No, for I know his mental touch too well. Jean is not here, and not in any condition to do this at the moment if she were.

The answer must be that Grace herself is doing this. Why? Is she aware of it? My first inclination is to doubt it—but that may be part of the effect.

The servant showed him to a large, well-appointed, well-lit study with moss green velvet drapes, a mirror-polished mahogany desk, and an immense globe of the world. Victor Von Doom stood at the globe, spinning it in a way which seemed idle, but probably wasn't. "Welcome, Magneto. I have long looked forward to this meeting."

Doom was wearing dull grey metal armor—which was magnetically dead. Magneto could feel from across the room that his powers would slide right off it. While metals which were not normally magnetic obeyed him, there was a process by which metal could be completely demagnetized. It was so time-consuming, so difficult and so costly that the United States government had instead opted to build his prison out of plastic and glass.

Yet here was Doctor Doom, wearing full plate armor made of demagnetized metal. I underestimated him. I will not do so again.

"I am impressed by your intelligence and foresight, Doom. Few sapients would think to armor themselves so effectively against me."

"Your belief in the superiority of all mutants to all 'sapients' is well known. I freely admit I lack the mutant gene—yet what is the true test of superiority? What use are incredible powers without the intelligence to use them judiciously?

"Were you to choose ten mutants at random, set them all to doing IQ tests, and then compare their scores against mine, I fear your beliefs would be shaken. You would see that where I sprint, they plod. My intellect is unsurpassed by any human or mutant."

"There are always more pawns on a chessboard than any other piece. Kings are few and far between." It was a concession of sorts. "But you did not request a word with me to bandy about superiority."

"Indeed I did not. Grace Engstrom is your wife or your lover, and the child she carries is yours, is that not so?"

"…Yes." Probably. "Rogue gave it away without knowing she did so, I'm sure."

"Yes. She also said you had joined forces with Xavier, for reasons which were too complicated to explain at that moment. Thanks to my sources, I know that Grace Engstrom has filed complaints against her former healthcare provider and against the Mutant Registration Act. Therefore, mutantkind is rallying together in support of her and her legal battle. I wish to propose…an alliance."

"Of what sort?"

"Mutual benefit. I shall put my resources—financial, technological, and human—as well as my own considerable intellect—at your disposal. In return, once the lawsuit has been won for mutantkind and the victory parties a thing of the past—you and your followers, and I do not include Xavier and his people—will do me the small favor of ridding the world of the Fantastic Four."

Of course. "If you know me so well, then you know I am loathe to trust humans—even superior ones. What reason have I to trust you?"

"You will have the given word of Doom." Doom was fanatical about keeping his word—to the letter, if not to the spirit.

"Yet I know you to be demonically tricky in how you give it. No; for this I should want a reason to believe you had made our cause your own." I have an inspiration "You are correct in your assertion that I do not entirely trust anyone not of the family of mutants, but there are more ways of joining a family than being born into it. Join us, Doom. Become one of us."

"How?"

"By marrying in. You are, I know, unmarried, and unattached. You have no heir of your blood to succeed you. I have a daughter."

"The Scarlet Witch. Wanda Maximoff."

"You are well-informed. She is beautiful, of a good age for you, and the two of you grew up in the same region, among the same people, ensuring you have a common background. She is, for lack of a better word, widowed, and insofar as I am aware, unattached at this time. You are a man of honor. Court her, win her, wed her before the trial begins, and when she is your happy, honored wife, it shall be as if you were born my son. Your cause and your quarrels will be mine, even as mine are yours." If he agrees, she most probably won't, and if she does—well, I can see he is more than capable of supporting her, and given that he is flesh and blood rather than metal and plastic, there is a chance I would get more grandchildren out of the deal.

"An alliance through marriage…" Doom was thinking it over.

"But a true marriage nonetheless. She is my only living daughter; I have great concern for her wellbeing and happiness. I perceive in you qualities I should like to have in my son—and in my grandchildren." Perhaps they would inherit some part of his intelligence.

"I am completely unacquainted with her. I would need some friendly insider to inform me of her preferences and dislikes."

He is considering it. Good. "Ms. Engstrom is very fond of Wanda, and I know she would like to see her happy. You can call upon her to help you in any honorable way she might." And the 'little friends ' who want Wanda to date will be pleased.

Doom walked to the sideboard, where he took up two balloon glasses and a decanter. "Shall we drink, then, to this proposed match between the House of Doom and the House of Magneto?"

"By all means." The House of Magneto. I like the sound of that.

The cognac was excellent.

Magneto and Doom were both ignoring one small truth: if you're a piece on the chessboard, no matter if you are a king or a pawn, then you aren't a player. You're just one of the played. Somewhere in the universe, Grace and Rogue's little friends were laughing.


A/N: Yes, I know it's short. I'm sorry...