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The luck of the devil, they’d always called it, just like his father. Only, looking at his uninvited visitor, Alex was starting to think perhaps they’d meant it rather more literally. If it really was the devil’s luck, it seemed he had come to take his due. Magneto – because who else could it be – was seated in Ian’s armchair, looking at once perfectly at home in the dusty old study and entirely out of place. His helmet, as always, was seated firmly on his head, and his signature cloak had been casually placed over the arm of the chair.
“Alex,” the man said, before Alex could quite decide on a fight or flight reaction, “so good of you to join me. I do apologize for the intrusion, but it seems these days rather too many people are interested in my comings and goings to announce them ahead of time.”
Although Magneto had made no move to stand up, Alex still found himself shifting his weight more onto the balls of his feet, bending his knees slightly for easy movement.
“What do you want with me?” Alex asked. It was a stereotypical question, but from everything Alex had heard of him, Magneto was a stereotypical villain. If Alex was lucky he’d monologue long enough to reveal something useful. As far as Alex could tell from the armchair ambush, there were two possible reasons: either he thought Alex was a threat and wanted to eliminate him or thought he was an asset and wanted to recruit him. Neither of which were particularly appealing. But Alex had managed to get through worse situations. Probably. They had probably been worse.
“Surely by now you’ve noticed, Alex, that you aren’t like the rest of the children you grew up with. That there’s something different about you. Something that set you apart because on some level they sensed it too, even if they could never understand what it was they were noticing.”
Alex was tempted to point out that of course there was something different about him. As far as he was aware, he was the only child in all of Great Britain that the government blackmailed into service. But if Magneto didn’t know about that, there was no way Alex was going to volunteer information about himself.
“And they weren’t the only ones who realized it, were they?” Magneto continued, his words coming out slow and deliberately sincere, “No it wasn’t only the other children who noticed, but the government too. That you’re lucky. Not just once or twice, but always. I imagine you’ve never lost a bet you didn’t want to. If things go wrong, somehow they have a way of righting themselves. And they could not help but poke and prod to find the limits of your gift. Of what it was that made you survive when adults with twice or three times your experience could not.”
“I think you might have the wrong kid here,” Alex interrupted, “Nobody’s ever experimented on me. So uh, sorry about that, but if that’s all, I have chemistry homework I need to work on.”
“Oh they were quite careful not to call it that, weren’t they? When they recruited you against your will and forced you into increasingly bizarre and life-threatening experiences, just to see what would stick. But it all amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? Freedom and the power to take it. You see, I can understand what you went through better than most. I too was a child forced into what can only be described as slavery by a government who cared only about the usefulness of my gift. My mutation.”
As Magneto paused, Alex watched, torn between being angry and impressed, as the small brass studs dotting Ian’s red leather armchair began to melt before pulling together to form a fluid ball orbiting Magneto’s index finger.
Deciding on anger, Alex tore his gaze away from the ball, to address the criminal sitting so smugly behind it. “Whatever you went through, it’s not the same for me. I’m not a mutant and I’m certainly not a slave. So while I appreciate you taking the time to stop by and ruin my dead uncle’s furniture. If that’s all you’re here for, I really do have things I need to do today.”
Magneto smiled, apparently more amused than offended. Which, given the fact he was now basically carrying a weapon, was probably a good thing for Alex’s continued longevity. But from what he knew of supervillains, also meant his afternoon was probably not going to end in balancing chemical reactions.
“Such passion. I think if I would have been in this situation at your age, I would not have been so confident to speak. But then a beaten dog learns to avoid attention… or to snap back. And I think you’re certainly more of the latter group. So let’s go through your last outburst again together. Which lie would you like to clarify first?”
Magneto waited for a moment, before realizing that Alex had no intention of breaking the silence, “No answer?” the man asked. His tone was perfectly even, but Alex still felt like he was being mocked, “Well, let’s start with the easier one first, why don’t we? If we go by you Brits’ beloved Oxford Dictionary, slavery can be defined as ‘a condition of having to work very hard without proper remuneration or appreciation’ or ‘a condition of forced labor’. In your case, I would say it is obvious that both apply. While MI6 has graciously allowed you to continue living in your uncle’s home, their grace apparently only extends so far. Certainly, it does not go far enough to let you decline whatever unpleasant tasks they decide you are uniquely suitable for. And I wouldn’t say they have shown any particular inclination towards gratitude when you manage, against all odds to survive. Certainly not in any material means. Or favors. Your housekeeper still hasn’t managed to extend her visa, has she? And your mission schedule has been making it increasingly difficult to keep up with your studies. So much for appreciation then.”
Alex glared, to hide the fact that Magneto’s words had landed. He had stopped counting the number of times he had told MI6 no. And without a solid education, his prospects for ever getting out of their clutches seemed to be slipping through his fingers faster than he could grasp after them. But just because Magneto was right about MI6 didn’t mean that he was right about the rest of his bloody anti-human crusade. And Alex was far from desperate enough to trade MI6 for the next mad man of the month.
“And what you’re offering is so much better than? Trade being a conscripted child operative for being a conscripted child terrorist? Yeah, thanks but no thanks.”
“Terrorist?” Magneto luckily still seemed more tolerant than angry, “I rather think it’s the other way around. Humans have been enslaving, torturing, and murdering our kind since they became aware of our existence. Fighting back for our right to exist is the least that we should be doing. Why should we suffer because they fear what they cannot understand? What they can’t control? Humanity is obsolete. Whether they wish to admit it or not, you and I are the next step of evolution. And I refuse to be cast as the villain because I won’t allow their dying flails to harm innocent mutants. In principle, all I am trying to do is ensure a future with no more children like you or like me. Where mutant children won’t have to grow up in fear of being kidnapped or murdered for being extroadinary.”
“But only mutant children?” Alex shot back. “Because you keep telling me that we’re the same. But it’s because you think I’m a mutant. You wouldn’t care what MI6 is doing to me if you thought I were human. Well, maybe I am human. Maybe whatever gift you think I have is fully within the realm of human ability. A crime can’t only be wrong because of who the victim is. Either it’s always wrong or it isn’t. You don’t get to pick and choose. That’s not how ethics work. And whatever MI6 has done, that doesn’t represent humanity.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Magneto asked, voice dessert dry. “Are not governments created for that sole purpose?”
“No, well yes. But they don’t always. Most humans just want the same things mutants do. Like Jack.”
“The housekeeper”
“Yes. But she’s more than that. She’s loved me since she first came to take care of me. And she’d do anything she could to keep me safe. That’s all most people want. To keep the people they love safe. And sure there are some bad humans, obviously I can't deny that. But they aren't the majority! And I bet there are mutants who are just as bad too.”
Magneto looked at his watch and sighed. “As productive as this conversation has been, I'm afraid I'm out of time. I take it this means you don’t plan to accept my invitation?”
“I’m not interested in killing people,” Alex replied flatly, hardly willing to believe that a supervillain would be willing to leave that easily.
“And I’m hardly the monster you think I am. It was never my intention to force a child to kill. The mutant brotherhood is about providing a safe haven for mutants, and defending that haven."
Apparently finished talking, Magneto gestured with his finger and the brass that had been – in Alex’s opinion – rather menacingly orbiting, broke back into small pieces each merging seamlessly back into their original place on Ian’s chair. With another gesture, one of Ian’s ornate fountain pens made its way over to the seated man, which he used to write another number on the back of a business card.
“Whatever else you think of me, I truly do not wish to see a mutant child suffer. If you won’t consider my offer, based on… ethical disagreements, perhaps you will consider to contact Charles Xavier. He runs a school for children like you in the United States and while I may have issue with his pacifism, I doubt that would be a problem for you. And perhaps more relevant to your situation, he has the power to keep you safe from MI6 should you decide that you're tired of their hand on your leash.”