Chapter 240: The Test of Magneto
The night air in Manhattan was thick with city grime — exhaust fumes, hot pretzels, perfume, and cheap cologne trying to mask yesterday's sweat. Logan wrinkled his nose as he walked alongside Magneto, trench coat flapping like a cape that had seen better days.
"Never pegged you for the strollin' type, Magie," Logan muttered, chewing a cigar down to a stub. "Whole world's huntin' muties, and you're playin' neighborhood watch?"
"I am no stranger to being hunted," Magneto answered without looking at him, voice calm but weighted like iron. "But I have chosen, for once, to see the world not as battlefield but as home. Even the smallest gesture matters. A patrol. A watchful eye. A chance to save one innocent life."
Logan snorted. Talk's cheap. Show me your hands in the dirt. He lit the stub, ember glowing against the Manhattan neon.
They'd barely gone a block when the ground trembled. A four-story building sagged as if punched by God Himself, windows popping out like eyes. Screams split the night. Concrete groaned.
"Move!" Logan barked, claws half-unsheathed already. He could smell the panic — sweat, fear, urine, blood. It hit him harder than the dust cloud rolling down the street.
Magneto's cape snapped open like wings. He thrust his arms out, magnetic fields catching steel beams before they crushed fleeing families. Cars screeched to halts. Civilians scattered.
Logan's eyes narrowed. Instinct to save 'em. Not to strike. Interesting.
But then came another voice, cutting over the chaos like a blade of ice.
"Maaagneto."
Mystique stepped through the dust, blue skin glowing under the streetlights, yellow eyes gleaming. Behind her: Blob lumbering like a moving wall, Avalanche cracking sidewalks with each step, Pyro twirling flames like juggling pins, Destiny blindfolded but standing with eerie certainty.
"We are the Free Alliance," Mystique announced, arms spread like a queen presenting her army. "And we come not as terrorists, but as patriots. We'll earn the government's trust… by delivering you."
Logan spat his cigar butt into the gutter. "So you mutts went and traded your spine for a leash. Hells, Raven — I knew you were cold, but dogs?"
Mystique's lips curled. "It's called self-preservation, Wolverine. Something even you should respect."
"Self-preservation," Logan echoed, popping one claw with a lazy snikt. "Looks an awful lot like betrayal from where I'm standin'."
The street went to war.
Blob barreled forward, a human bulldozer. Magneto countered with a gesture, lifting sewer grates and slamming them like shields. Avalanche cracked the pavement, splitting the street into jagged canyons. Pyro hurled flaming serpents; Magneto twisted streetlamps into coiling steel vines to smother the fire.
And Logan?
He slipped into the smoke, crouched low, senses flaring. He didn't dive in swinging. Not yet. His nose twitched, tracking sweat and gunpowder, listening for the rhythm of Magneto's breathing. This is the test, bub. Let's see if the old man's truly turned a new leaf, or just paintin' rust.
Magneto fought like a man split down the middle — one hand saving civilians, the other parrying mutant attacks. When a bus tilted, he steadied it gently, ushering out screaming passengers. When Blob lunged, Magneto twisted rebar around his ankles, anchoring him like a beached whale.
"Always the savior now, Magnus?" Mystique mocked, firing her pistol. He deflected the bullets without even glancing, his focus still on a child trapped under rubble.
"Better a savior than a butcher," Magneto replied, voice low, eyes burning.
The fight dragged, a stalemate of will and chaos. But then — the last child carried to safety. The last bystander ushered beyond the barricades. Magneto's shoulders straightened. His jaw tightened.
"Enough restraint."
He unleashed. Cars bent like toys. Sewer pipes burst, spraying Avalanche with jets of water that froze around his boots. Pyro's flames sputtered out when Magneto ripped the oxygen tanks off his back. Blob roared, charging again — Magneto lifted him six feet off the ground and slammed him flat until the pavement cratered.
Destiny whispered warnings, but too late. In five minutes, the Brotherhood was broken, unconscious, scattered across the street like discarded dolls.
From the shadows, Logan finally strolled out, hands in pockets. "Well, ain't that somethin'. Floor's lookin' mighty clean after that sweep."
Magneto's chest heaved. He turned to Logan. "Why didn't you join?"
"Join? You didn't need me. My part was watchin'. Testin'. And you passed, bub." Logan tapped his nose. "Smelled the truth on ya already — but I like bein' sure."
But then came the whispers.
From the crowd that had been saved. Pointing fingers. Murmurs rising into venom.
"He's a mutie."
"Dangerous — he wrecked the street!"
"Where's Nimrod? He should've blasted 'em all!"
"They're all mutants!"
Logan's teeth clenched around another cigar. Here it comes. Always the same song.
Magneto looked at his hands, trembling. "You hear them, Wolverine? I save them… and still, I am feared. Hated. Just as Magda once feared me, after I avenged our daughter. She did not see her killers — she only saw me. A monster."
His voice cracked, for just a second. Then he straightened. "Perhaps it is time I stand trial. Face judgment. Atone for my crimes."
Logan growled. "Don't tell me you're serious."
"I am." Magneto's gaze was distant, haunted. "If I give myself up, it proves I have changed. It shows them I seek peace."
Logan stepped closer, eyes hard as adamantium. "Listen, Magie. You think sittin' in some courtroom, lettin' a bunch of human bigots tear you down, is atonement? That ain't redemption. That's cowardice. That's runnin' from the fight."
Magneto bristled. "You dare—"
"I dare," Logan snarled. "You don't prove nothin' by lettin' 'em chain you. You prove it by keepin' mutants alive. By standin' your ground without fear, without hate. You fought tonight savin' people who'll never thank you. That's the hard road. Charles' road. Stick to it. That's atonement. Not sittin' in front of a judge who already hates your guts."
Silence stretched. The dust settled. Magneto's eyes softened, if only slightly.
"Perhaps…" he whispered, "perhaps it is time I face not human judgment, but my own. My guilt. My fear. The war I waged against humanity was also a war against myself."
Logan lit his cigar with a steady hand. "Good. Face it, then. But don't drag us into your pity party. You got work to do. Mutants to protect. Prove yourself there. That's the only trial that matters."
Magneto met his gaze, heavy with meaning. "You sound… almost like Xavier."
Logan exhaled smoke. "Don't insult me, bub."
He turned, boots crunching over broken glass, leaving Magneto alone among the unconscious Brotherhood and the jeering crowd.
And for the first time in years, Erik Lehnsherr didn't look like a conqueror, or a savior, or a villain. He just looked… human.