"That was a classic moment," Jubilee said through a grin, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "I still remember how Kitty and I tricked him into wearing that Santa Claus outfit. You should've seen his face!"
Her laughter was infectious, and I couldn't help but join in, the tension of the past few days melting away. For a brief moment, the hallway of the Xavier Institute was filled with warmth and nostalgia, the sounds of chuckling echoing softly against the walls. It was hard to picture Wolverine — the gruff, eternally scowling Logan — in anything remotely jolly or red, let alone playing the role of Santa Claus. The mental image of him stomping around in black boots, growling "Ho ho ho" with clenched teeth, nearly brought tears to my eyes from laughter.
But the fleeting moment of levity shattered without warning.
The ground beneath us quivered violently, a low, ominous rumble coursing through the foundation of the school like the growl of an awakening beast. Books tumbled from shelves, light fixtures swung wildly, and the floor vibrated with increasing intensity.
"An earthquake?" Jubilee gasped, but the answer came soon enough.
A cacophony of panicked voices rose from the floors above and below as students darted through corridors in sheer confusion and terror. We didn't wait. Without exchanging words, Jubilee and I sprinted toward the source of the disturbance, our instincts in perfect sync.
Outside, the rest of the X-Men had already gathered, their faces steeled with determination. The air buzzed with tension. They stood like statues — poised, unwavering — their attention fixed on a figure at the gates.
A lone man stood there, his presence commanding, his voice deep and resonant as it rang out over the grounds.
"X-Men, come out!"
Jubilee and I exchanged a knowing glance. There was only one person with a voice like that — one who could make the earth feel like it trembled with his arrival alone. Without hesitation, we joined the others outside.
The man at the gates was unmistakable.
Clad in his signature helmet and cloak, Erik Lehnsherr — better known as Magneto — stood tall and solemn, the wind tugging gently at the edges of his attire. His eyes swept over the team like a predator surveying prey, but there was no malice in his expression. Not yet.
Wolverine was the first to step forward, his jaw tight, the muscles in his arms coiled like springs. His claws slid out with a familiar metallic snikt.
"You're not welcome here, Magneto," he growled, voice low and brimming with disdain. "So turn around and get lost — before things get ugly."
The air seemed to thicken with animosity, like a storm about to break.
But Magneto raised his hands slightly — not in surrender, but in peace.
"I did not come here to fight," he said, his voice calm, even sincere. "I come in peace… and I hope to leave in peace."
A collective exhale rippled through the group. Shoulders loosened slightly, and weapons — literal and metaphorical — were lowered just a fraction.
But Wolverine wasn't ready to relax.
"Peace?" he spat. "You don't waltz into the heart of your enemy's home and talk about peace like you're one of us. You're deep in lion territory, bub."
Scott Summers stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Logan's shoulder. His optic visor glinted slightly as he spoke.
"Wolverine, that's enough," Scott said, his voice authoritative but calm. "Let's hear him out. If he came here without hostilities, the least we can do is listen. We owe that much to Charles."
Scott's words, though reluctant, rang true. None of them had forgotten Magneto's complicated history with Professor Xavier.
Rivals, yes. Enemies, often. But also… once friends — bonded by ideology, experience, and years of fighting for mutantkind, albeit from opposite ends.
"I heard what happened to Charles," Magneto began, his expression softening. "I came to see him. To check on his condition."
There was a beat of silence. Even Wolverine blinked, momentarily taken aback.
Despite his past, there was something undeniably genuine in Magneto's voice. Love. Grief. Concern. All mixed in with that unshakable pride he always carried.
Scott glanced at Jean, then at Logan, and finally nodded.
"You can see him. But only under supervision," he said firmly. "You try anything, and I mean anything, and you'll regret setting foot here."
Without another word, the trio — Scott, Jean, and Wolverine — escorted Magneto inside.
Inside the Institute – Magneto's POV
The silence in Charles Xavier's room was suffocating.
The once vibrant, commanding figure now lay still, unmoving — a pale shadow of his former self. Machines monitored his vitals with quiet beeping, but there was no sign of consciousness, no spark of the man who had once inspired a generation.
"What happened to him?" Magneto asked at last, his voice low, almost reverent.
Scott crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Charles. "It started while he was using Cerebro. One moment, he was fine. The next… it was like a switch flipped. No one's been able to reach him. Not even Jean."
Jean nodded solemnly. "His mind is… gone. Dormant. As if it just shut off."
Magneto's brow furrowed.
"And who was with him when it happened?"
Jean hesitated. "A new recruit. We found him at an MRD orphanage. He was with Charles when everything went wrong."
A glimmer of suspicion flashed in Magneto's eyes.
"Then I need to speak with the boy," he said.
Wolverine stepped forward immediately, voice like thunder. "That wasn't part of the deal. You're here for Charles, nothing more. Don't push your luck, Magneto."
But Magneto had turned his attention back to Xavier, eyes full of conflict and sorrow. His old friend — his rival — reduced to a fragile shell.
"I have another proposal," Magneto said quietly. "If you won't let me speak with the boy, then let me take Charles to Genosha. There, he will be surrounded by powerful telepaths, given round-the-clock care. I will make sure he gets what he needs."
"Like hell we'll hand him over to you," Logan snapped. "You don't get to decide what's best for him."
Magneto remained calm, though a flicker of frustration sparked in his voice.
"Genosha has resources this place lacks. I mean no disrespect, Jean, but your duties as an X-Man divide your focus. In Genosha, he would be the top priority."
Scott stiffened, bristling at the implication. "That's enough. You're out of line. This visit is over."
Magneto sighed, then straightened. "Then your hatred has blinded you. You let resentment rule your decisions, and Xavier will suffer for it."
His demeanor shifted — no longer the humble guest, but the powerful mutant leader. The air changed, magnetic fields subtly warping. Before anyone could react, steel from the walls whipped forward and coiled around them like serpents, binding their limbs.
In a blink, Magneto had lifted Charles gently into his arms.
"Erik!" Jean shouted, struggling against the metallic binds.
But he was already tearing the roof open with a flick of his fingers.
Outside – Chaos Unleashed
Scott activated his communicator, shouting into it with urgency. "All X-Men — Magneto has betrayed us and kidnapped Xavier! Stop him at all costs!"
The call echoed throughout the school. Doors slammed open, footsteps thundered down the hallways, and students leaped into action. It was war.
Magneto hovered above the shattered roof, Xavier held in his arms, his magnetic aura crackling like a storm cloud around him. The X-Men assembled below, powers flaring, eyes fixed skyward.
I pushed through the crowd, heart pounding. Without hesitation, I stepped forward, my right arm morphing into a plasma cannon. I aimed at Magneto and fired, the blast cutting through the sky with searing light.
But Magneto deflected it effortlessly, his magnetic field absorbing the impact while shielding Xavier from harm.
"You've made your point," I shouted. "Now put him down!"
Magneto's eyes locked on mine. Cold. Focused. Calculating.
"There you are," he said. His voice had changed — darker, more intent. "I've been looking for you."
The debris around him began to rise, swirling in a slow, deadly spiral.
I braced myself.
But then, from the side, a rush of frost swept upward. Bobby — Iceman — had arrived, his powers activated. With graceful precision, he froze the flying debris mid-air, locking them in icy suspension.
For a moment, the battlefield held still — frozen in more ways than one.
But everyone knew — this was just the Chapter 7: A New Face Emerges
"That was a classic moment," Jubilee said through a grin, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "I still remember how Kitty and I tricked him into wearing that Santa Claus outfit. You should've seen his face!"
Her laughter was infectious, and I couldn't help but join in, the tension of the past few days melting away. For a brief moment, the hallway of the Xavier Institute was filled with warmth and nostalgia, the sounds of chuckling echoing softly against the walls. It was hard to picture Wolverine — the gruff, eternally scowling Logan — in anything remotely jolly or red, let alone playing the role of Santa Claus. The mental image of him stomping around in black boots, growling "Ho ho ho" with clenched teeth, nearly brought tears to my eyes from laughter.
But the fleeting moment of levity shattered without warning.
The ground beneath us quivered violently, a low, ominous rumble coursing through the foundation of the school like the growl of an awakening beast. Books tumbled from shelves, light fixtures swung wildly, and the floor vibrated with increasing intensity.
"An earthquake?" Jubilee gasped, but the answer came soon enough.
A cacophony of panicked voices rose from the floors above and below as students darted through corridors in sheer confusion and terror. We didn't wait. Without exchanging words, Jubilee and I sprinted toward the source of the disturbance, our instincts in perfect sync.
Outside, the rest of the X-Men had already gathered, their faces steeled with determination. The air buzzed with tension. They stood like statues — poised, unwavering — their attention fixed on a figure at the gates.
A lone man stood there, his presence commanding, his voice deep and resonant as it rang out over the grounds.
"X-Men, come out!"
Jubilee and I exchanged a knowing glance. There was only one person with a voice like that — one who could make the earth feel like it trembled with his arrival alone. Without hesitation, we joined the others outside.
The man at the gates was unmistakable.
Clad in his signature helmet and cloak, Erik Lehnsherr — better known as Magneto — stood tall and solemn, the wind tugging gently at the edges of his attire. His eyes swept over the team like a predator surveying prey, but there was no malice in his expression. Not yet.
Wolverine was the first to step forward, his jaw tight, the muscles in his arms coiled like springs. His claws slid out with a familiar metallic snikt.
"You're not welcome here, Magneto," he growled, voice low and brimming with disdain. "So turn around and get lost — before things get ugly."
The air seemed to thicken with animosity, like a storm about to break.
But Magneto raised his hands slightly — not in surrender, but in peace.
"I did not come here to fight," he said, his voice calm, even sincere. "I come in peace… and I hope to leave in peace."
A collective exhale rippled through the group. Shoulders loosened slightly, and weapons — literal and metaphorical — were lowered just a fraction.
But Wolverine wasn't ready to relax.
"Peace?" he spat. "You don't waltz into the heart of your enemy's home and talk about peace like you're one of us. You're deep in lion territory, bub."
Scott Summers stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Logan's shoulder. His optic visor glinted slightly as he spoke.
"Wolverine, that's enough," Scott said, his voice authoritative but calm. "Let's hear him out. If he came here without hostilities, the least we can do is listen. We owe that much to Charles."
Scott's words, though reluctant, rang true. None of them had forgotten Magneto's complicated history with Professor Xavier.
Rivals, yes. Enemies, often. But also… once friends — bonded by ideology, experience, and years of fighting for mutantkind, albeit from opposite ends.
"I heard what happened to Charles," Magneto began, his expression softening. "I came to see him. To check on his condition."
There was a beat of silence. Even Wolverine blinked, momentarily taken aback.
Despite his past, there was something undeniably genuine in Magneto's voice. Love. Grief. Concern. All mixed in with that unshakable pride he always carried.
Scott glanced at Jean, then at Logan, and finally nodded.
"You can see him. But only under supervision," he said firmly. "You try anything, and I mean anything, and you'll regret setting foot here."
Without another word, the trio — Scott, Jean, and Wolverine — escorted Magneto inside.
Inside the Institute – Magneto's POV
The silence in Charles Xavier's room was suffocating.
The once vibrant, commanding figure now lay still, unmoving — a pale shadow of his former self. Machines monitored his vitals with quiet beeping, but there was no sign of consciousness, no spark of the man who had once inspired a generation.
"What happened to him?" Magneto asked at last, his voice low, almost reverent.
Scott crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Charles. "It started while he was using Cerebro. One moment, he was fine. The next… it was like a switch flipped. No one's been able to reach him. Not even Jean."
Jean nodded solemnly. "His mind is… gone. Dormant. As if it just shut off."
Magneto's brow furrowed.
"And who was with him when it happened?"
Jean hesitated. "A new recruit. We found him at an MRD orphanage. He was with Charles when everything went wrong."
A glimmer of suspicion flashed in Magneto's eyes.
"Then I need to speak with the boy," he said.
Wolverine stepped forward immediately, voice like thunder. "That wasn't part of the deal. You're here for Charles, nothing more. Don't push your luck, Magneto."
But Magneto had turned his attention back to Xavier, eyes full of conflict and sorrow. His old friend — his rival — reduced to a fragile shell.
"I have another proposal," Magneto said quietly. "If you won't let me speak with the boy, then let me take Charles to Genosha. There, he will be surrounded by powerful telepaths, given round-the-clock care. I will make sure he gets what he needs."
"Like hell we'll hand him over to you," Logan snapped. "You don't get to decide what's best for him."
Magneto remained calm, though a flicker of frustration sparked in his voice.
"Genosha has resources this place lacks. I mean no disrespect, Jean, but your duties as an X-Man divide your focus. In Genosha, he would be the top priority."
Scott stiffened, bristling at the implication. "That's enough. You're out of line. This visit is over."
Magneto sighed, then straightened. "Then your hatred has blinded you. You let resentment rule your decisions, and Xavier will suffer for it."
His demeanor shifted — no longer the humble guest, but the powerful mutant leader. The air changed, magnetic fields subtly warping. Before anyone could react, steel from the walls whipped forward and coiled around them like serpents, binding their limbs.
In a blink, Magneto had lifted Charles gently into his arms.
"Erik!" Jean shouted, struggling against the metallic binds.
But he was already tearing the roof open with a flick of his fingers.
Outside – Chaos Unleashed
Scott activated his communicator, shouting into it with urgency. "All X-Men — Magneto has betrayed us and kidnapped Xavier! Stop him at all costs!"
The call echoed throughout the school. Doors slammed open, footsteps thundered down the hallways, and students leaped into action. It was war.
Magneto hovered above the shattered roof, Xavier held in his arms, his magnetic aura crackling like a storm cloud around him. The X-Men assembled below, powers flaring, eyes fixed skyward.
I pushed through the crowd, heart pounding. Without hesitation, I stepped forward, my right arm morphing into a plasma cannon. I aimed at Magneto and fired, the blast cutting through the sky with searing light.
But Magneto deflected it effortlessly, his magnetic field absorbing the impact while shielding Xavier from harm.
"You've made your point," I shouted. "Now put him down!"
Magneto's eyes locked on mine. Cold. Focused. Calculating.
"There you are," he said. His voice had changed — darker, more intent. "I've been looking for you."
The debris around him began to rise, swirling in a slow, deadly spiral.
I braced myself.
But then, from the side, a rush of frost swept upward. Bobby — Iceman — had arrived, his powers activated. With graceful precision, he froze the flying debris mid-air, locking them in icy suspension.
For a moment, the battlefield held still — frozen in more ways than one.
But everyone knew — this was just the beginning.