Earth-717: One-Shot

Being Mindful

"In here, Charles."

Xavier rolled his way into the office that he and Moira now shared. Due to a recent rearranging of all of their research materials and belongings, many piles of books and boxes were still unsorted. Moira smiled at Xavier as he closed the door behind him. He looked at the main desk, which had a laptop sitting on it, the screen facing him.

Moira pressed a button on the laptop, causing the screen to flicker on. She then stood next to Xavier.

"We're ready, Director," said Moira.

Fury stepped into view of the screen, sitting down in front of it so that Xavier and Moira could get a clear view of his face.

"Fury," said Xavier.

"Professor."

"What is this about?"

"Ever since your run in with Hydra, a few things have been happening behind the scenes," explained Fury. "I felt you deserved to be briefed on some important matters."

"And certainly the fact that I'm now aware of Moira's status as a SHIELD agent has nothing to do with this?"

"I'll own that one, Professor. For any issues that may have caused amongst your team, I apologize . . . . but I wasn't sure if I could trust you yet."

"So what did you want to tell me?"

"First, that you don't have to worry about Senator Kelly's death being traced back to you and your team. Moira gave me her full report, and we've come up with a suitable story to feed the public and most of the government regarding both Sinister's Genesis Camp and the collapse of the Mutant Response Division."

Xavier nodded his head, clearly impressed.

"That's quite some pull you have, Director."

"It's what I do. Second, you should be aware that the new Massachusetts Senator, Miles Brickman, is currently under our observation. We don't know if he has the same criminal ties as his predecessor, but you can't be too careful with Hydra. We'll keep you apprised of any developments on that front, although even I might not be able to stop Kelly's death from being blamed on mutantkind. Brickman may use that as leverage to gain more concessions, so don't be surprised if he's not the biggest fans of mutants."

"I see. And what of Magneto?"

"He's adjusted fairly well to Ravencroft. Since being captured, he's been a model inmate, to the surprise of many. He's followed all of the rules and made no trouble for the guards. I don't think he'll ever be rehabilitated, but I would say we don't have to worry about him for now. I'll keep you posted if anything changes with him."

"Thank you."

"And lastly, I have to deal with another situation at the moment, so any further updates probably won't be coming from me. Agent Seven has been assigned as liaison to the Institute for the time being."

"Coulson?" asked Moira.

"Yes," replied Fury. "He'll be in touch soon. Changing rosters for changing times. You can understand that, right, Professor?"

Xavier softly frowned.

"I certainly can."

"Stay safe."

"You as well."

In the dining hall, the team was sitting around the table, eating their meals. Hank and Piotr were voraciously consuming their steak and french fries, while Storm was more meticulously following proper utensil etiquette. Jean, meanwhile, was slowly spinning her fork on the plate, having barely touched her food.

Piotr looked over at her with both concern and a full mouth.

"Not hungry?"

Jean didn't seem to notice.

"Jean?"

Jean blinked a couple times and looked over at him.

"Huh?"

"Your food," said Piotr, finally swallowing. "Don't like my cooking?"

Storm and Hank stopped to look at Jean, who weakly laughed.

"Certainly Piotr's medium rare could not be that repulsive," said Hank, glibly.

"Heh. I uh . . . . no, it's fine, Piotr. It's fine. I . . . . I think I just am . . . . I need some time to myself."

"Sure."

Jean stood up.

"Don't let it go to waste, okay?"

"Between Hank and I, I doubt it will," joked Piotr.

Jean let out a soft chuckle before turning and walking out of the room. Hank and Piotr both solemnly looked at her plate, frowning as they did so.

"Who knows what true loneliness is, not the conventional word but the naked terror?" started Hank. "To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion. Joseph Conrad."

Storm dropped her utensils onto her plate.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen."

Storm stood up and followed after Jean. Hank noticed that she had left her knife and fork crossed.

"Jean?"

Her knuckles colliding with the door several times, Storm was patient until she received a response.

"Yeah."

It wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but Storm took it as consent to enter anyway. A light flick of her hand opened the door. Stepping inside the room, she saw that Jean was cradled on the bed, laying on her side, facing away from her. Jean's hair acted like a hood to shelter the majority of the upper part of her body, a shield against the rest of the universe.

Storm flicked her hand again, and the door firmly closed. She noted that Jean was not sobbing, but rather just being as still as she could, the occasional breath giving away that she was still alive. Moving onto the bed, Storm sat next to Jean and and gently placed her hand on her arm.

For several minutes, the two women were silent. Finally, Jean spoke up.

"What's it been like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being away. From your family, I mean."

Storm looked upwards as she considered Jean's question.

"I have only been here for a short time, so it is difficult to say."

"But you're here long term. New field team leader. Kind of a . . . . uh, a big commitment right?"

"That is correct."

"So . . . . why do it? Why step away for so long? Not knowing when you'll go back?"

"I believe that a part of me never exactly left," explained Storm. "I will always cherish my family. My uncle. My friends and siblings. They are all part of me, and the feelings that I possess, the mutual bonds that we share, are ones that simple grievances of proximity cannot break. I came here because the Professor requested I do. He told me that I was needed here. He told me that I could make a difference, and that I could help many people, including the ones I cared about. So, I do not see it as leaving. I see it as a natural progression of the connections I have. This kind of commitment can only hold merit because of the strength of those bonds. And although sometimes we may feel lost, or disconnected because of the distance between us and the people we hold dear, we need only to reminisce on what made those people special to us in the first place, and we can then find our way back to our own path."

Jean gulped upon Storm finishing her speech.

"I wish I could be like you."

"There is no one to be in this world but ourselves, Jean Grey. To be anyone else, is to betray both one self and the people we care most for."

Sniffling, Jean pushed herself upright on the bed, before turning to look at Storm. The two shared a smile, and then a hug.

Crouched and with her back against the perimeter brick wall of the Institute, Martinique calmly took her phone out of her pocket. Her lengthy brown hair sloped down past her shoulders. She was not a day over twenty, and was wearing a dark stealth suit with a utility belt. A Bizon submachine gun was strapped around her back, and her lipstick was the same colour as her suit.

She tapped the icon on her phone that showed that she had a new message.

TARGET: X-MANSION

OBJECTIVE: OBTAIN PRIORITY INTEL AND CRIPPLE TEAM MEMBERS TO BEST ABILITY

REWARD: FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS

ORDERS CONFIRMED. PROCEED WITH MISSION OBJECTIVE.

Smirking to herself, Martinique put away her phone and vaulted over the brick wall, landing on the grass field outside the mansion.

Xavier was sitting on the edge of his bed in his night clothes. His legs were dangling off the side, with his palms placed on the blanket. He was listening to the sound of Moira in the adjacent bathroom, brushing her teeth. Feeling a sudden dose of sleepiness, he closed his eyes for a few brief seconds before reopening them.

Xavier shook his head as Moira walked out of the bathroom in her ravishing red dress. Her auburn hair was in an updo, with curled strands framing the sides of her face. Her eyes were oceans of beauty.

She held out her hand.

"Give a girl a dance, Charles?"

Xavier looked down to see that he was no longer sitting on his bed, but rather, standing, and in his military uniform. He was briefly perplexed, but upon seeing Moira beckoning him, he smiled and reached out for her hand.

They were once again dancing at the restaurant with the name he had long since forgotten. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Hank was walking down the main hall, and turned the corner towards the foyer. He was focused on the datapad he had in his hands, which had readings on it from a recent experiment. As he considered the data, he then looked up and gasped upon seeing who was in front of him.

"Magneto!"

Piotr slammed his fists together.

"How did you get in here?!"

Sinister responded only with a sly grin.

"Answer me, Sinister!"

Piotr charged forward, emitting a fierce war cry. He slammed his left fist down, but Sinister leaped backwards to dodge the attack. Swinging his right fist horizontally, Piotr then smashed a large part of the wooden hallway wall. Reach out with both hands, he grabbed Sinister by the shoulders and heaved him against the right wall.

"Ugh!"

Hank burst through the hallway wall and into the kitchen, having been thrown through it by Magneto. Thousands of wood chips scattered into the room, and the force of the impact knocked over much of the furniture and various items. Magneto stepped into the room, menacingly looming over Hank, who was grimacing and trying to push himself off the floor.

"Professor!"

Hank did not receive a mental response.

"Professor! Help!"

As Xavier kept his eyes closed and continued to slowly dance in a circle, he suddenly felt a small tinge of static in the back of his mind.

"Pr . . . . or . . . . elp . . . ."

Xavier tried to focus on the static, but he couldn't make anything out. Moira then looked directly into his eyes.

"Hey! Eyes on me."

"Uh, right," stammered Xavier.

They continued, and Xavier discarded the static from his memory.

Snapping one last shot of the foyer with her phone, Martinique then crouched on the floor and placed two fingers to her temple, focusing on entering the minds of the people in the mansion. Sifting through their thoughts, she could then see a brief glimpse of the Cerebro chamber. Grinning, she then unhooked a tiny explosive charge from her belt and planted it directly on the large X on the floor of the foyer.

Standing back, she waited the few seconds for the charge to explode, breaking apart the segment of the floor that was atop the elevator shaft. Martinique then casually jumped into it and slid down to the hangar.

Pulling out her phone again, she started taking several snapshots of the X-Jet, before turning to look at the door that led to Cerebro.

Roaring, Hank slashed at Magneto's face. Magneto staggered backwards at the attack, and Hank took the opportunity to pounce on him and unleashed a furious claw swipe combo attack on his torso. Magneto grunted in pain before backhanding Hank off of him, knocking him against the kitchen cupboards.

Jean woke up, and looked around her room to see that everything was on fire. Too stunned to move, she watched as her bed, clothes, furniture and decorations around her room were all bring simultaneously burned. The small photo she kept on her bedside table of her and Scott had already been turned to ashes.

Too stricken by fear to move, Jean then heard the shrill cry of a wailing bird in the back of her mind.

Storm grasped at her forehead as she fell to her knees just outside of her room, near the balcony overlooking the foyer. She had been hearing noises and had come to investigate, but now her whole mind was filled with static.

"What is . . . . what . . . ."

She then looked up to see the roof caving in her. Several pieces of debris landed around her, and started piling up, boxing her in. She shrieked as she was quickly buried alive.

"No! NOOOOOO!"

Lashing out in terror, Storm held up her hands, and a thundercloud quickly took shape over the mansion. Martinique, who rode the elevator back up the shaft and stepped into the foyer, rose an eyebrow upon seeing a distressed Storm laying on the balcony, with nothing around her. Martinique then looked up with a mix of awe and confusion as a massive lightning bolt struck the roof of the mansion.

"Oh, shit."

The bolt tore through the ceiling and hit Storm directly, charging her with energy. After a moment, the energy then fired all around her, causing an explosion that tore off much of the roof of the foyer, and shattered most of the windows. Martinique was blown into the air by the force of the blast, and she was catapulted out of the door and onto the front lawn.

Her face smacked against the grass, rendering her unconscious.

Piotr and Hank looked at each other in a daze.

"Piotr?"

"Hank?"

"You're not Magneto."

The fire was gone. Nothing was damaged. Knowing that she couldn't trust her eyes, Jean reached into the astral plane.

"Professor!"

"Jean."

"What is . . . ."

"We've been attacked. Head to the foyer. Help Storm!"

Jean was already running out of her room by the time Xavier was done issuing his mental command.

Martinique pushed herself off the grass, groaning as she did so. Turning around to face the mansion again, she saw that Storm, Jean, Piotr and Hank were all standing there, looking at her. Snarling at the team, she reached for the submachine gun on her back.

"Go forth, Piotr!" shouted Storm.

Piotr leaped in front of his teammates as Martinique unloaded half a clip of bullets at the team. Piotr absorbed the brunt of the attack, with the bullets bouncing off of his steel skin.

"Jean, disarm her!"

Jean threw forth one hand and spun her wrist, and she telekinetically ripped the gun from Martinique's hands. Flying above the team, Storm circled both of her hands around each other in a ritualistic motion, and a large swath of wind picked Martinique off the ground, suspending her in the air.

Flailing her arms, Martinique was helpless as Storm then threw her hands down, causing Martinique to get slammed against the ground, once again knocking her out. Xavier and Moira then rushed out of the entrance, looking at the team and the damage done to the foyer. Hank bounded over to Martinique's body, and saw her phone on the ground next to her.

He picked it up, and read the message on the screen.

DATA RECEIVED. DESTROYING DEVICE.

The phone then short circuited and turned off in his hands.

"Intriguing."

The rest of the team walked up to Hank, looking down at Martinique.

"Who is she?" asked Piotr.

"I've just scanned her mind," said Xavier. "Her name is Martinique Wyngarde. She is a mutant, like us, with the ability to cast telepathic illusions."

"Well, that explains some stuff," said Jean.

Storm then widened her eyes.

"Professor! About the . . . ."

"No need to apologize, Storm. This is her fault, not yours."

"What do we do with her?" asked Jean.

"Moira will get on the phone with SHIELD. They'll know how best to handle her incarceration. After that . . . . we'll see about finding someone can who make some repairs to the mansion."

For a short moment, the team stood there, looking down at their unconscious enemy.

"Data received," said Master Mold.

Standing atop his step ladder, Trask rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the images started to populate the large display screen. The twenty metre tall synthetic, sitting on her chair, looked down at Trask in his suspended, transparent lab, with her unblinking red eyes.

Trask laughed to himself upon seeing the images of the foyer, the X-Jet and the Cerebro chamber.

"Excellent, excellent," said Trask. "This confirms my theory. I knew Xavier had to have a way of telepathically finding mutants."

"It was a likely hypothesis, Doctor Trask," said Master Mold.

"And if we can hijack it, we can find every mutant on Earth. You're a genius, my dear."

"You designed me to be so."

"A shame about the kid. She could have been useful again, and I was hoping she'd be able to neutralize at least some of the X-Men."

"She was expendable. We still obtained the priority intel. Using this data, I will begin formulating a new strategy to defeat the X-Men. They are, after all, our greatest threat. And soon, the next part of my master plan shall unfold."

The Ravencroft guards walked away from Martinique's cell. She was firmly latched onto a suspended bed, with a metal apparatus clinging to her head. It was keeping her in an induced coma. For some time, she could feel no thoughts. Then, a tiny whisper slithered into her skull.

"Hello."

"Who . . . . who are you?"

"I am like you. I can sense your thoughts. You are a telepath. A mutant telepath."

"I am."

"What is your name?"

"Martinique. Martinique Wyngarde."

"And what of your other name? The one you prefer. The one you wish to be referred to as."

"Mastermind."

"An excellent choice."

"You're a prisoner too?"

"Yes. I have been here for far too long. I think we can help each other. When the time is right, we will work together to escape this place, and get revenge on our mutual enemies."

"You still didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

"I am known by many names, child. But you may call me . . . . Magneto."

THE END