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Chapter 162 – Clash
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 16:50:22 +0000 UTC
The soldiers’ warning was already a mercy. By protocol, they should’ve opened fire the instant Magneto appeared—an internationally recognized terrorist and Omega-level mutant. By rights, they could’ve killed him on the spot.
But no one wanted to be the poor bastard ordered to take on Erik Lehnsherr without an all-plastic arsenal. Every man present knew what that meant.
And Magneto knew it too. Which was why his lips curled with disdain as he turned toward the blue-furred pilot.
“This is your doing, Hank?”
Beast gave a helpless shrug. “If it were, I’d like to think I’d have planned something a little smarter.”
Selene—pale and unreadable, her psychic senses twitching—added coolly, “It’s Charles. He called them.”
“Charles…” Erik almost smiled, bitterly. “Why am I not surprised?”
Before he could say more, one of the soldiers shouted:
“Hey—you there! Stop right now!”
Every weapon swiveled toward the oddball who had been trying to sneak away from the jet: Super Joker, tiptoeing as though no one would notice.
Caught mid-step, he raised both hands in mock surrender.
“Relax, relax! Just drank too much water on the plane. Gotta take a leak.”
There was a beat of silence. One of the soldiers, caught off guard, actually pointed helpfully. “Uh… public restroom’s the other way.”
“Ah, thanks, pal.” Super Joker spun on his heel, striding in the opposite direction. “So it’s over here—”
“Wrong way! Freeze!” The soldier leveled his rifle again.
Super Joker froze mid-sneak, eyes darting shiftily. “So… now what? Wait—hey! Look, a shooting star!”
It was the oldest trick in the book, but damned if half the soldiers didn’t instinctively glance skyward.
And then they all froze for real.
Because there were shooting stars. Dozens of them. Burning trails of fire, ripping through the night sky and angling straight for New York City.
Hank’s stomach dropped. “God… an alien invasion? Drop ships?”
But the commander didn’t hesitate. His voice cracked with alarm:
“Mutant attack! All units—open fire!”
The soldiers didn’t know if aliens existed. What they did know was that Magneto did—and he was right in front of them. Bullets screamed through the night.
But they stopped inches from their targets, hanging in the air like a wall of glittering death. Magneto’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist.
Selene moved next, her telepathy slamming into the soldiers’ minds, freezing them mid-trigger pull. Red Lotus cracked her whip, sending the men tumbling backward in a blur of scarlet light.
The entire exchange lasted seconds. The bullets clattered harmlessly to the pavement—mercifully not redirected into the ones who fired them. Erik had chosen restraint.
“Now it seems,” Magneto said coolly, turning to Beast, “our enemies include not only aliens… but the United States Army as well.”
“That’s not what Charles wanted,” Hank argued quickly.
“And yet that is what has happened,” Erik said, his voice like iron. He nodded toward his companions. “Find Jean. Take her. We leave.”
He was no fool. The fiery trails above were not his doing, and he had no interest in wasting strength fighting idiots in uniform. Not with Genosha—mutants’ last refuge—depending on him. Mercy today meant survival tomorrow.
“Selene,” Erik commanded.
The sorceress closed her eyes. Even in her weakened state, her power was vast, pulsing outward until she found what she sought. Her lips curled.
“There. That direction.”
“Good.” Erik’s gaze swept over the team. “The sooner we finish, the less blood spilled. Move.”
Even Hank couldn’t object. He had promised Mystique he’d help, and he wasn’t about to turn traitor now. Besides, Charles had brought the military into play—exactly as Raven had feared. If Jean was handed over, what then? No, she needed protection.
Grumbling, Hank grabbed Super Joker by the scruff of the neck—who had apparently wandered the wrong way on purpose—and dragged him along as the group headed toward the park’s edge.
But before they could reach the street, a flash of light cut them off. With a bamf of displaced air, Nightcrawler appeared—and with him, Charles Xavier, Cyclops, and Storm.
The two groups faced each other in tense silence.
Naturally, Super Joker broke it first. He pointed at Xavier’s bald head, grinning ear to ear.
“Hey! Nice chrome dome. Mind if I buff it up? Bet it’d make a hell of a crystal ball—great for fortune telling!”
Xavier’s face darkened. He looked past the lunatic and fixed Erik with a steady stare.
“Erik. This lunatic… he isn’t one of yours?”
“God forbid.” Magneto sneered. “You’ll have to ask Hank. He brought him.”
Beast flushed with embarrassment, and Charles brushed against his mind—only to recoil. He’d tried peering into this alien’s thoughts once before. Never again.
For now, he focused on his old friend.
“Erik. I don’t know what Mystique promised you, but this isn’t your fight. Leave. Now.”
Erik’s voice was calm, but his words carried weight.
“A mutant child came to me for help. I failed her once. I won’t make the same mistake again. Tell me, Charles—why involve the U.S. military in our struggle?”
Charles gestured skyward, to the raining streaks of fire.
“They’re here to help with that.”
“And yet,” Erik countered coldly, “your allies seem convinced those are my reinforcements. Tell me, Charles—do you think an apology will suffice, once their bullets find their mark? If so, then they are not soldiers. They are children.”
Charles clenched his jaw. “Which is why you need to leave, Erik. The more you resist, the more this escalates.”
“And let you hand Jean over to them?”
“I would never!” Charles’ voice rose with rare fury.
“Yes,” Erik said softly, “I believe you. But I do not believe them.” His gaze shifted to the soldiers closing in from the flanks. “So tell me, old friend—when they try to take her by force… what will you do?”
