Magneto and Mystique
Nak Island
Roughly three hundred nautical miles northeast of New York.
The island sat isolated in the Atlantic, more than eighty nautical miles from the nearest shore. With only a small fishing town of a few thousand residents, the place was mostly ignored by the outside world.
On the far coast, far from the town, stood a cluster of moss-covered buildings.
Once a private prison, it had been abandoned more than a decade ago. Locals whispered that the prison was haunted, and few dared venture near.
Now, the rusting watchtowers served a different purpose.
From one of them, a mutant with pale blue eyes scanned the horizon. His gaze froze when he spotted a sleek yacht approaching through the waves.
He frowned but remained calm. Wealthy tourists sometimes strayed this way. Usually, a quick scare was all it took to send them fleeing.
He raised a walkie-talkie.
"Mike, there's a yacht coming in. Let's give them a welcome."
---
On the shoreline, in a wooden shack, a dark-skinned young man chuckled when the call came through.
"Relax. I'll make sure they never forget this."
He tossed the radio aside, stepped out into the salty air, and spotted the white speck of the yacht in the distance. His lips curled upward. With a running start, he dove into the sea, the water bending and swirling around him as he accelerated toward the target.
---
Aboard the yacht, Xu Mo reclined beneath the awning with Emma Frost, each holding a glass of champagne.
Emma's crystalline eyes glittered. "We've got company. A little fish swimming our way."
She smirked. "Do you mind if I test my new trick on him?"
Xu Mo tilted his glass lazily. "Go ahead."
Emma's telepathic illusions had advanced greatly with training. More importantly, she had condensed her first psychic seal—a permanent brand she could embed within another's consciousness. Once placed, even the strongest mutant could not escape her domination.
It had taken her over a month of focused effort to forge this one seal. Xu Mo intended it for Magneto himself. After all, brute force against the Master of Magnetism was pointless. Even decades ago, Magneto could raise submarines and bend steel cities. Xu Mo's flying blades, no matter how many, would be swept aside the instant Magneto prepared himself.
But a direct strike on his mind? That was a weapon Magneto's helmet could not defend against—at least not forever.
Emma's silver gaze shimmered.
Moments later, the water beside the yacht erupted with a splash. Mike—the water-shaping mutant—flopped onto the deck like a stunned fish, glassy-eyed, his will no longer his own.
Emma sipped her champagne. "Once Magneto is under control, he'll be far more useful alive than dead."
She closed her eyes briefly, scanning the thoughts she had plucked from Mike's mind. "There are 138 mutants on Nak Island. Most are weak, barely above baseline. Only four count as real fighters—Magneto, Juggernaut, Pyro, and someone they call 'Bone Spike.'"
Xu Mo arched a brow. "Bone Spike?"
Emma chuckled. "His body generates razor-sharp bone spikes. He can throw them or use them in close combat. Crude, but dangerous enough."
Xu Mo's smile was thin. A glorified knife-fighter—yet ranked among Magneto's best. The Brotherhood had clearly fallen far from its glory days.
---
Meanwhile, the blue-eyed lookout abandoned his tower post and sprinted toward the prison's main complex. He had barely taken two steps before his pupils rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious—Emma's unseen work.
---
Inside the upper floors of the prison, Magneto stood before a reinforced cell. His iconic helmet glinted faintly in the dim light.
"Raven," he said firmly, "I admit my past mistakes. But I ask you—set aside your resentment. Stand with me again. Mutants need you."
Within the cell, Mystique sat silently on her cot, pale skin and cropped hair catching the light. Her golden eyes burned with contempt.
"I won't be used and discarded again, Erik. Not by you. Not by anyone."
"You misjudge me," Magneto insisted. "You lost your powers. To keep you in the fight would've only endangered you—"
"Spare me." Her voice dripped venom.
Her features shifted, flesh rippling until she wore the face of Sebastian Shaw—the Black King Magneto had once hated.
"Remember him, Erik? He died by my hand. Shall I remind you whose mother he killed? Shall I wear her face too?"
Magneto's jaw tightened beneath his helmet. Fury simmered, but he kept his voice cold.
"Everything I do is for mutant survival. One day, you'll see the truth."
Without another word, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the iron corridor.
Mystique's form reverted, her true face calm but her eyes blazing with quiet hatred.
At the base of the stairs, a new figure waited in the shadows, flames licking across his knuckles.
"Erik," Pyro said with a wolfish grin, "long time no see."