As the darkness of night gradually retreated before the arrival of dawn, the X-Jet's sleek black frame pierced the sky over upstate New York. Below, nestled among the shadows of quiet hills, lay a secure villa. Its location was unlisted on any map, shielded by advanced mutant defenses and veiled by both psychic cloaking and top-tier technology. The quiet hum of the engines faded as the aircraft descended with smooth, almost reverent silence. As the landing gear touched the ground, a faint breeze stirred the dew on the backyard grass and carried with it the first golden rays of morning.
Inside the X-Jet, the cabin lights flickered to soft yellow, and the team began to stir. Yet before anyone else could even unbuckle their harnesses, Mark had already leapt to his feet and dashed toward the villa's lower levels.
His steps were fast, almost frantic. Every cell in his body screamed for sustenance. After the relentless battle, activating two powerful protagonist templates, pushing his physiology past its limits, and wrestling with immense internal forces, his body now demanded tribute in the form of calories.
He burst into the basement pantry, a room stocked with long-lasting food rations, hydration packs, and nutrient-dense emergency supplies. Without hesitation, Mark tore open packs and began eating, wolfing down high-protein rations, energy bars, and bottled electrolyte drinks with almost primal speed. His mouth was stuffed; wrappers and packages fell away like confetti.
As the hunger ebbed and satisfaction settled in, Mark leaned against the wall and sighed with deep contentment.
"No wonder Goku eats like a black hole," he muttered with a faint grin.
"This level of hunger feels like a vacuum in my stomach."
Now that he had experienced it himself, he better understood why the Saiyan warrior's appetite bordered on comical. It wasn't just gluttony. It was necessity. Goku's biology, tuned for combat and rapid healing, consumed energy like a furnace. And now, Mark's body, under the lingering influence of that same template, demanded the same level of intake.
With his stomach full and his muscles humming with slowly replenishing vitality, Mark climbed back upstairs. The interior of the villa was warm and quiet, painted in soft shadows by the rising sun. The floorboards creaked lightly beneath his steps as he made his way into the ground-level hallway.
Then came a blur, small, fast, and unannounced.
He barely had time to react before a figure collided with his torso. Tiny arms wrapped tightly around him, and a familiar voice spoke with hurried, shaky breath.
"Mark!"
Startled, he looked down and saw young Wanda. She stood barefoot in a long nightshirt, with her auburn hair tangled from sleep. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks pink from either running or crying, perhaps both.
"Wanda?" Mark asked gently. "It's just after six. What are you doing awake?"
She clung to him tighter.
"I couldn't sleep," she mumbled.
"You weren't back last night… and nobody told me anything. Then this morning I heard the jet and ran outside, but you weren't there… I thought something happened to you but then Miss Ororo said you were downstairs..."
Her words came in a rush, unfiltered, spoken straight from the heart of a child who had lived through war, fear and danger too many times. Despite her powers, Wanda was still just a little girl. One who had been uprooted from her home, separated from her parents, and thrown into a world of mutants and monsters.
A knot formed in Mark's chest. He knelt down and gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said softly.
"But I'm fine. I promise."
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded firmly, as if choosing to believe him out of sheer force of will.
"Where's your brother?" Mark asked.
Wanda pouted immediately.
"Sleeping. Like a rock. And he stole my pudding last night too."
Mark couldn't help but chuckle.
"Really? That's criminal behavior. I'll have to discipline him."
She grinned, her eyes brightening. Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out two lollipops, slightly squashed but still intact.
"I was going to give one to you and one to Pietro, but now both are yours. Consider it compensation."
Her eyes lit up. She took them carefully, as though they were treasures, then reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"You're the best, Mark!" she chirped.
"I won't eat them yet though," she added in a more serious tone.
"I have to brush my teeth first."
Mark ruffled her hair affectionately.
"Responsible and adorable. You're going to rule the world someday."
As they walked side by side down the hallway, they turned a corner and nearly ran into Erik Lehnsherr himself.
Magneto stood there in his long coat, one glove half-removed, clearly preparing to rest after the long journey. His expression was impassive at first, but his eyes took in Mark and the girl beside him with careful precision. He gave a slight nod.
Mark's mind shifted gears instantly.
"Wanda, sweetheart," he said softly,
"head back to your room now. I'll be up shortly."
Wanda glanced at Erik for a moment. There was something strange in the way she looked at the older mutant. It wasn't exactly fear, but it came close, more like wariness. Then she turned and padded back toward the stairwell without protest.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Mark turned to Magneto.
"Mr. Lehnsherr," he began politely,
"would you mind if we spoke privately for a moment?"
Magneto gave a faint smile.
"Of course, Mark. Conversations with you are always enlightening."
Mark cut straight to the point.
"I want to know what you think should be done about Colonel William Stryker."
Magneto's response was immediate.
"He should be executed."
His tone was flat. Inevitable.
Then, more dryly, he added, "Of course, your Professor Xavier has different dreams. He thinks handing Stryker over to S.H.I.E.L.D. will buy us peace and good public relations. He believes their bureaucrats will see reason."
He snorted with disdain. His silver hair caught the hallway light.
"Humans do not respect mercy. They understand power. And Stryker... he knows more about us than anyone outside our community. He built mutant-killing programs. Captured our children. Conducted experiments on the living. Letting him live is madness."
Mark absorbed this quietly. It was as he had expected. His own convictions echoed Magneto's words too closely for comfort.
"I agree," he said finally.
"But unlike you, I didn't make any promises to Charles. I'm not bound by his morality. So if I eliminate Stryker, would you stop Xavier from interfering?"
Magneto's eyes gleamed with something almost like admiration.
"Now that is the kind of pragmatism this world needs. You surprise me, Mark. Even Logan, who has every reason to hate Stryker, won't defy Xavier outright. But you see what must be done."
Mark shrugged slightly.
"I just want to protect the school. Nothing more."
Magneto's smile was faint, but genuine.
"That's what I've always wanted, too. Protection. Security. A future for our kind. Every fortress I've built, every regime I've challenged, it was always for that."
Then his voice dropped into something deeper. Sincere.
"Think on it, Mark. You don't have to be Xavier's student. There is another path. The Brotherhood would welcome you."
Mark didn't bite.
"That's a conversation for another day," he said tone neutral.
Magneto let him go without another word, but as he watched Mark disappear into the hallway, a flicker of something calculating passed through his gaze.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two Days Later – Xavier Institute, Courtyard
The courtyard was filled with morning light and the soft murmur of mutant students gathering near the yard. They had grown used to disruptions, raids, battles, evacuations but today had a quiet, somber rhythm. Mark stood at the center, bags slung over his back, Wanda hugging his arm tightly. Pietro stood nearby, arms crossed, trying to look bored but stealing glances at his sister every few seconds.
"I'll be back," Mark promised gently.
"You better," Wanda pouted.
Pietro saying, "Just bring back snacks."
Professor X, serene as ever in his wheelchair, was speaking quietly with Ororo and Hank McCoy near the entrance. Magneto and Mystique stood by the X-Jet's loading ramp, waiting for the final departure. Colonel Stryker, bound and gagged, was being escorted onto the aircraft under heavy psychic and physical restraint. Their destination? S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters
Mark watched as the school, just days after its near-destruction, returned to normal. Or, at least, to the illusion of normal.
What impressed him most was how completely Xavier had erased the incident. The man had used his immense influence and the Cerebro to rewrite every record, every security feed, and every memory linked to the event. The Xavier Institute now existed again as a simple, respected private academy.
'speaking of memories, the Obliviate spell will really be handy if I master it, Harry didn't really master the spell, at least not near enough when compared to Hermione' Mark thought
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