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Thanks to Beast's constant tactical nudges, Magneto had figured out the best way to use Joker: whenever he saw a cluster of enemies, he'd just hurl the clown straight into them. Chaos guaranteed.
Keep him too close, though, and the chaos would be friendly fire. Honestly, the only reason it hadn't happened already was—well—luck. Or maybe that lollipop Joker kept chewing .
Blessed be the holy lollipop.
For his part, Joker didn't complain about being forced to stay behind. He just spat out the candy, waved his hands in front of Magneto in an over-the-top "wizard" gesture, muttering, "You can't see me. You can't see me."
Then he tried to shuffle quietly toward the next car.
Magneto wasn't having it. His fist clenched, and sheets of steel slammed into place, sealing the only exit shut.
Joker sulked, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, waddling like a duck until he reached the mounted heavy machine gun. He fiddled with the ammo belt, trying to figure out how to load and cock the thing, fascinated by his new "toy." He'd fired pistols, sure, maybe even a rifle or two. But a heavy machine gun? This was a first.
Magneto, meanwhile, lifted every remaining weapon in the car with a thought, arraying them into a deadly formation. Even the second heavy machine gun was ripped from its mount and floated into the magnetic barrage.
Joker looked at the spectacle and groaned. "Really? Rifle rounds? You know they don't work, right? Maybe stop with the pew-pew cosplay and build yourself a Gauss rifle. Electromagnetics, railgun style. Faster bullets, actual damage. Just sayin'."
But Magneto wasn't exactly the "innovator" type. He was a craftsman—devastating with what he had, but not one for tinkering. He wasn't the legend who would one day tear the Golden Gate Bridge out of the earth. Not yet.
Still, the sight of a hundred rifles hovering in a tight, lethal lattice was intimidating enough. To anyone human, it would've been terrifying.
Unfortunately, their opponent wasn't human.
Vuk—the D'Bari leader, still wearing the female guise he had used when shadowing Jean—descended on a sleek strike craft. In a single dive, he leapt off, landing with precision right through the shattered doorway into their car.
He touched down just in time to meet Magneto's full fury.
Bullets screamed from every angle, a hailstorm of gunfire. The heavy machine gun roared like thunder, .50 caliber rounds hammering into Vuk's frame. If he'd been an ordinary soldier, he'd have been shredded.
But this was no ordinary soldier. This was the D'Bari leader, empowered by fragments of the Phoenix Force.
The barrage stripped away his disguise but nothing more. He strode through the storm of lead unfazed, bullets sparking harmlessly against his body.
Magneto pushed harder, mixing in slashing steel shards, spears of twisted iron—but nothing bit.
Glancing sideways, Erik saw Joker still fumbling with an ammo belt like a kid trying to set up his first Lego set. His temper snapped.
"Boy, take this seriously! He'll be in your face in seconds!"
Joker threw up his hands. "Fine, fine. You win."
He grabbed the open ammo box and lobbed it straight at Vuk. Then, for good measure, he ripped the heavy machine gun from its mount and hurled that too. Both bounced off uselessly.
Joker dusted his hands. "See? Same effect as your way. Less effort."
Magneto's glare could've melted iron.
Joker casually picked up a spent rifle, flipped it upside down, and stroked it like a favorite toy. His grin widened. "Ahh, there it is. Feels like home. Destruction… hmm, what is this now, world-ending number N+1?"
He swung the rifle like a bat, aiming the buttstock squarely for Vuk's face.
He never got the chance.
Vuk stepped in, fist blazing with Phoenix power, and punched Joker so hard he flew straight out of the train car.
As he tumbled into the night, Joker's voice trailed back: "Cheating! I brought a weapon—you brought fists! Totally unfair!"
Magneto scowled. Useless. Absolutely useless. If only Charles could see the "help" he'd insisted on recruiting.
Spent casings covered the floor like brass carpet. Out of bullets, Magneto fell back on raw metal, tearing strips of the train into a vortex of spikes aimed to shred Vuk where he stood.
But before the storm could touch him, Vuk raised a hand. The Phoenix energy flared, and the entire assault froze midair.
This wasn't magnetism versus telekinesis. This was something higher. Something that simply crushed everything beneath it.
Magneto strained until veins bulged in his temples, but it was useless. With a casual sweep of his arm, Vuk hurled him into the wall. Erik slumped, unconscious, buried under his own fallen weapons.
The path to Jean Grey was open.
Vuk strode forward, and with a flick of his mind, the steel barricade at the far end of the car ripped apart—doors, plating, debris all flung backward into the soldiers beyond. Screams filled the corridor as men went down.
At last, he faced them.
His borrowed human face was empty, cold, unreadable—like a mask.
"Hand over the girl," Vuk said, voice sharp as glass. "Do that, and you may live. At least… not die today."
If he'd stopped at the first sentence, maybe someone would've wavered. Maybe they would've believed there was a chance. But Vuk had sealed his own fate.
There would be no surrender.
Mutants and soldiers alike braced, weapons up.
The battle ignited in an instant.
Gunfire thundered, mutants charged, soldiers screamed war cries. Vuk cut through them like a force of nature. He couldn't stop them all at once, so he swatted them down one by one, striking, flinging, smashing until no one was left standing.
And the whole brutal exchange lasted only a handful of breaths.
The only thing that spared them from instant annihilation was simple: Vuk hadn't yet mastered the Phoenix Force.
If he had… none of them would've lasted even that long
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