August 18, 1992
Max watched as the soldiers opened fire. He reached out with his hand, his fingers splayed. The bullets seemed to move in slow motion. He could hear his mother's voice talking to him, her words gentle.
"It's just a part of you Max, all that metal. If you just concentrate, then you can control it."
The bullets stopped in mid-air. Max felt sweat roll from his forehead along his jaw line. Time continued, and he could feel the tension in his body. He could see the soldiers stare at him, almost as though they hadn't expected that.
Remy threw four cards at them, each one glowing magenta. Max wrapped his coat around his hand and shoved Rogue to the floor. The two of them went down as the screams of the soldiers filled the air.
A hand grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He looked up into Logan's face. Max didn't know what to make of the expression that he saw on his face, the way his eyes kept flicking over Max's features. It felt like he was seeing him anew somehow.
Logan dropped him onto his feet. Next to them Remy had finished helping Rogue up. He had wrapped his hands in his coat too, and Rogue was bleeding from her lip. Max wanted to apologize. He hadn't meant to push her so hard.
"Kid, move it!" Logan snapped.
He pushed him down the hallway, towards the staircase. Remy and Rogue were behind them. A soldier came out of a doorway. Logan casually flicked his hand out, his claws drawn. Max closed his eyes, hearing the thump on the floor in a distant, disconnected way.
He opened his eyes, forcing himself not to think about what he had heard, what had happened to all of those soldiers. They had come into the Institute to kill them: they deserved it. Max tried to tell himself that, although it wasn't working.
They moved down another staircase. He heard other sounds of combat, almost as though they were from further off. Max thought of his mother, and his heart pounded even harder. Where was she? Had aid come to her? The other X-men were gone. Where were they when they needed them?
Another group of soldiers rounded the corner. Max saw them take aim. The guns flew out of their hands and hit the wall. They began scrabbling at their helmets as they crunched in, the noise of the crunching almost overpowering the sound of their screams.
Rogue looked at him with horror. He saw Logan and Remy look at him the same way, as though he was some kind of monster.
"It...it wasn't...I...I didn't..." he managed.
His words came out low and strangled. Logan took another look at him and nodded.
"Alright," he said, "Then who-?"
"You're not very bright, are you?"
Max felt something inside him freeze. He knew that voice. He'd seen it in security camera footage, in the few video files the X-men had been able to gather on the Brotherhood. He turned, feeling the world slow for the second time.
Magneto stood at the other end of the hall, his hand extended casually. Toad stood behind him, along with Emma Frost.
"It appears you have an infestation," Magneto said, "I believe that I can help with that."
Logan snarled. Magneto waved a hand.
"I would hope that even you could see that this is beyond whatever it is you're feeling," he said, "Our foe is far greater than that."
"What are ya talkin about?" Remy snapped.
Magneto waved a hand around them.
"This is hardly my style," he said, "I wouldn't attack the Institute. Not like this."
"Not like this being the key phrase there bub," Logan said.
Magneto shook his head.
"I have information that we may be dealing with something much worse than this," he said.
Max looked at Rogue. His throat felt thick. How could it be worse than what was happening now.
"But, I digress," he said, "We need to leave this place. More soldiers are coming."
"We can't just be leavin," Remy said, "Dere be students here-"
"Most of them have run into the woods," Magneto said, "And those that are still here are most likely far too scattered for you to rescue without hurting yourselves. You all need to leave now."
Logan and Remy looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing between them. They didn't know each other very well, but they were both X-men. That meant something, and he knew they were debating on whether or not to believe Magneto.
Max saw it the moment they made their decision.
"Wait!" he said.
They both looked at him.
"My mother," he said, "She...she's still fighting downstairs. We can't just leave her without any support."
"Kid..." Logan said.
"We can't just going to abandon her!" Max said.
"He's right," Rogue said, "We can't just-"
"If you want to live, then you will," Magneto said.
Max turned on him. He wasn't sure where his courage was coming from, but he wasn't going to leave his mother behind.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" he snapped.
Max moved past him, determined to make it to the stairs. He felt a steely grip on his arm. Max whipped around and stared Magneto in the face.
"Let me go!" he snarled.
Magneto's eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly and his grip loosened a little. Max shook him off and began to head back towards the stairs. A minute later he felt something hard hit his head. He fell to the ground, his vision swimming with black.
"Max!" Rogue yelled.
Max tried to get up, but his arms wouldn't support him. He fell to the floor again, and this time the black blotted out his vision.
Charles could hear Moira's heavy breathing, feel the way that her steps were labored. After his wheelchair had broken she'd thrown his arm over her shoulder. She had always acted as his support whenever he needed to leave the wheelchair.
Despite his own misgivings, he had insisted on waiting in his office. He had tried to sync communications to get everyone out until the communication lines had faded out. He'd heard reports of students making it to the woods. He had no idea if they were all out.
Moira had pointed out the obvious: they would only know that when they got there. Charles had to agree, although part of him wanted to stay. He didn't know how he could make sure that the rest of the students were out though.
He hadn't known how he was going to get out either. Moira had insisted on helping him along. She had never carried him this far though. The evacuation tunnels were still some ways away, and after that it would be difficult to get out of there. Charles could see the strain that it was putting her under. She was older than she had been when she had first helped him with his mobility problems.
He could only feel dismayed at the situation. She was slowing herself down to save him. The soldiers hadn't caught up to them yet, but he knew that they would get there soon. He gripped her shoulder tighter.
"Moira, please, just leave me behind-" he tried.
"Shut up," Moira snapped.
Charles wanted to force her to leave him behind. It was her only chance of getting out safely. He closed his eyes, getting ready to enter her mind.
"Charles, please."
He opened his eyes. Moira was looking at him, her face determined and desperate. It wasn't a look that he ever liked to see on her face.
"Don't make me do this," she said, "We get out together, or we don't get out at all."
"Moira..." he said.
"Charles," Moira said.
He sighed and bowed his head in resignation. Moira shifted his weight and continued moving. He didn't look up again until he felt the presence of several minds coming up the stairs. He put his hand to his forehead and concentrated.
They dropped to the ground. It drained him somewhat, but they were gone. Moira reached the other end of the hall and began keying in the appropriate code for the panic tunnel.
A fist slammed into the wall, denting it. Wood splintered in the air, and Moira was forced onto the ground. Charles hit the floor hard and pushed himself up, looking at the massive figure in front of him. He hadn't even felt his mind.
"So, the great Charles Xavier. A cripple."
The voice was commanding and deep. Charles looked up at the man, pushing himself into something resembling a seated position.
"You and your people have attacked my school," he said, "There are children here-"
"They won't be harmed. Not as long as they cooperate."
"Something tells me that they won't do that," Moira snapped.
The man made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
"Quiet human."
Moira's eyes narrowed. The man gave a deep-throated chuckle.
"You're in the middle of a conversation between gods," the man said, "It's not your place to interrupt."
"People have been telling me that for a while," Moira said.
The man made another dismissive gesture.
"Xavier," he said, "I have heard that you are an intelligent man with great power. I have yet to see any of this though. All I see is a service for children set up in the middle of nowhere, a place to hide yourself away."
Moira's eyes met Charles's.
Don't, Charles thought.
Moira took a deep breath.
Charles, this man is insane, she thought.
Which makes this situation very, very dangerous, Charles thought.
"I wonder," the man said, "What makes you so special? Why was data gathered on you?"
Charles swallowed and tried to get inside the man's mind. It felt as though there were a fence made of barbed wire around it. It was almost as though it were trying to attack him back. He slowly tried to untangle the man's mental barriers.
"Why should I be here?"
A small thread looked as though he could unravel it.
"You're not even fighting me."
Charles could feel the different threads untangling. It was painful, but he tried to keep his face carefully schooled. He couldn't let this man know what he was doing.
"Perhaps it's time for a test. This is a school."
With one motion he reached down and grabbed Moira by the throat.
"Moira!" Charles said.
Moira made a small, strangled noise as the man lifted her into the air. Charles doubled his efforts, frantically trying to tear the man's shields apart. Moira kicked out, but her feet bounced off the man's chest harmlessly. He seemed amused.
"Gods can sometimes become taken with mortals," he said, "For their beauty or something similar."
He turned Moira's head to the side. Charles could feel the rage pounding inside him: no one hurt his wife, no one threatened to take her from him. It gave him strength as he continued to work on the man's mind.
"Sometimes it even lasts," the man said, "It's a foolish process, but it happens often enough. I wouldn't expect the offspring of such a union to be anything particularly special."
Charles yanked the threads loose. He dove into the man's mind, ripping and tearing. He saw the man stumble, toss Moira to the ground, but he kept his vision concentrated within his mind. Charles could just about feel the place beyond his thoughts, the place where he could bring him down.
As he reached it Charles felt a burning sensation inside his mind. Information flowed through him, almost as though someone was stabbing him repeatedly in his head. He continued fighting, pushing past it, but the pain only increased.
He tasted blood from his nose on his lips, felt it running down his neck from his ears.
"Charles!" Moira screamed.
The man laughed.
"You're the first one to do that," he said, "I'm impressed. Congratulations on making it that far."
Moira tried to run to him, but the man pulled her back by her hair. He tossed her aside into the wall. Charles watched, his vision blurred, as she slumped to the ground.
"I believe that's the end of that test," the man said.
