Random ficlet! X-Men Movieverse
The scene that was totally missing from the end of X3. Spoilers for the movie, obviously.
Warnings: This fic does not have anything in it that requires a warning. Hopefully.
Magneto's First Step Towards Conquering the World and Exterminating All Humans, in the Aftermath of San Francisco
When Magneto enters the grocery store, he ignores the temptation of the candy aisle and marches right up to the counter, where the humans buy their cancerous cigarettes and their worthless batteries. The store is blissfully empty of the vermin known as men, except the man seated at the register, reading Us Weekly.
"Who is in charge of this establishment?" Magneto demands.
The pudgy man behind the counter raises an eyebrow. "That'd be me."
"Puny human," Magneto says, wishing his had his cape rather than this infernal trenchcoat1, "I have come here-- nay, I have been forced here by your feeble society's foolish habit of using money in exchange for services."
"What?" the man asks.
"I saw your help wanted sign on the door," Magneto explains.
"You live at the old folks' home down the street?" the manager asks.
Magneto declares, "Idiot! I have not yet been confined in your prison for elders. I live at the YMCA."
The guy looks him over. Magneto clenches his fists as this creature's eyes judge him. He remembers a time when this man would have been begging for mercy. "What's your name?"
"I am Magneto, Erik the Red, the White King of the Hellfire Club," he boasts, puffing out his chest. "I am known to some as Erik Magnus Lehnsherr."
"Okay, Mr Lehnsherr," says the shop owner. "You been a bag boy before?"
"I have nearly exterminated your kind at least five times. I have led armies across your vile nation. I have survived a Nazi death camp. I have seen things that would have you longing for the escape of death. Surely I can master this thing you call 'bagging.'"
The man frowns at that. "My Grandpa Max was in a concentration camp. He'd roll over in his grave if he thought I was making a Holocaust survivor live on the street." His hands move under the counter, and he removes a series of papers. He looks almost sympathetic. Magneto barely catches himself from recoiling in horror.
"You got a social security number?"
"I have a number," Magneto says. "I do not remember whose it is."
The manager stares.
"Mine's probably in my safety deposit box at the bank," Magneto says, thinking. "I will have to call my ex to see if she remembers which bank it is. It might take several weeks. I put it there quite some time ago."2
"Okay," the man says, scratching his head. "Uh, come back tomorrow at noon and we'll get you started. Try to bring some kind of ID with you. You're not an illegal, are you?"
"In what way?" Magneto enquires.
"Nevermind."
Magneto cautiously shakes the human's disgusting hand -- thankfully, his hands are protected by the black mittens the widow across the hall knitted him last week -- before he departs. As he stands in the doorway, it hits him: tomorrow he will begin his job bagging groceries for homo sapiens.
"Thank you, human," he calls over his shoulder. "Perhaps I will not kill you when I regain my powers."3
And Magneto walks back out onto the cold, harsh streets of New York.
*
1 Actually, he loves the trenchcoat. It brings out his eyes.
2 Last time he talked to Mystique, she told him to go fuck himself and stop calling him. At least he didn't waste any of his free weekend minutes on her, that bitch.
3 A week into the job, he changes his mind. But first he will kill every single person in the government for taking such large amounts of his paycheques. Magneto only makes six fifty an hour, he is not made of money.
*
Disclaimer: Belongs to Marvel, etc.
Warnings: This fic does not have anything in it that requires a warning. Hopefully.
Magneto's First Step Towards Conquering the World and Exterminating All Humans, in the Aftermath of San Francisco
When Magneto enters the grocery store, he ignores the temptation of the candy aisle and marches right up to the counter, where the humans buy their cancerous cigarettes and their worthless batteries. The store is blissfully empty of the vermin known as men, except the man seated at the register, reading Us Weekly.
"Who is in charge of this establishment?" Magneto demands.
The pudgy man behind the counter raises an eyebrow. "That'd be me."
"Puny human," Magneto says, wishing his had his cape rather than this infernal trenchcoat1, "I have come here-- nay, I have been forced here by your feeble society's foolish habit of using money in exchange for services."
"What?" the man asks.
"I saw your help wanted sign on the door," Magneto explains.
"You live at the old folks' home down the street?" the manager asks.
Magneto declares, "Idiot! I have not yet been confined in your prison for elders. I live at the YMCA."
The guy looks him over. Magneto clenches his fists as this creature's eyes judge him. He remembers a time when this man would have been begging for mercy. "What's your name?"
"I am Magneto, Erik the Red, the White King of the Hellfire Club," he boasts, puffing out his chest. "I am known to some as Erik Magnus Lehnsherr."
"Okay, Mr Lehnsherr," says the shop owner. "You been a bag boy before?"
"I have nearly exterminated your kind at least five times. I have led armies across your vile nation. I have survived a Nazi death camp. I have seen things that would have you longing for the escape of death. Surely I can master this thing you call 'bagging.'"
The man frowns at that. "My Grandpa Max was in a concentration camp. He'd roll over in his grave if he thought I was making a Holocaust survivor live on the street." His hands move under the counter, and he removes a series of papers. He looks almost sympathetic. Magneto barely catches himself from recoiling in horror.
"You got a social security number?"
"I have a number," Magneto says. "I do not remember whose it is."
The manager stares.
"Mine's probably in my safety deposit box at the bank," Magneto says, thinking. "I will have to call my ex to see if she remembers which bank it is. It might take several weeks. I put it there quite some time ago."2
"Okay," the man says, scratching his head. "Uh, come back tomorrow at noon and we'll get you started. Try to bring some kind of ID with you. You're not an illegal, are you?"
"In what way?" Magneto enquires.
"Nevermind."
Magneto cautiously shakes the human's disgusting hand -- thankfully, his hands are protected by the black mittens the widow across the hall knitted him last week -- before he departs. As he stands in the doorway, it hits him: tomorrow he will begin his job bagging groceries for homo sapiens.
"Thank you, human," he calls over his shoulder. "Perhaps I will not kill you when I regain my powers."3
And Magneto walks back out onto the cold, harsh streets of New York.
*
1 Actually, he loves the trenchcoat. It brings out his eyes.
2 Last time he talked to Mystique, she told him to go fuck himself and stop calling him. At least he didn't waste any of his free weekend minutes on her, that bitch.
3 A week into the job, he changes his mind. But first he will kill every single person in the government for taking such large amounts of his paycheques. Magneto only makes six fifty an hour, he is not made of money.
*
Disclaimer: Belongs to Marvel, etc.