x-men fanfic
Been thinking about this one for a while.
This is a work in progress. It's a sequel to my previous Magneto fic, New Boy. The X-Men and related mutants and hangers-on are the property of National Publications and its parent corporations, and their assigns. Stan Lee gave me permission to write stories about them years ago in Stan Lee's Soapbox. Nobody may post this story without my permission. I'm not making any money off this.
Mission (working title)
"Mr. Lehnsherr!"
Not another slammed door. Magneto winced invisibly. When Amara slammed a door there was always a split second while he waited for the house to fall down.
"Amara. Calm yourself now. Please remember your mutant powers and behave responsibly."
She stopped abruptly with a shocked look on her face. "Yes, sir?"
Ah, childhood training. "Don't slam the door. Please sit down. What is the problem?"
She flushed. "I forgot. I apologize, sir." She sat down carefully.
And why should she forget? Magneto waited with diminishing patience, since, after all, he had many other concerns. But he was a teacher now and his first concern was to listen. Scott Summers had said so many times.
Amara was scowling and wringing her hands. "It is Raine, sir. She's doing it again."
Magneto suppressed a groan. Not again.
***
"But she's a pagan, sir!"
Raine turned an imploring face to him, but he was not deceived. He knew very well that the child was pig-headedness itself, for she had been admonished before. He steeled himself to be stern.
"So she is a pagan. That is her business. It is none of your affair."
"Her soul's welfare is my business!" Raine's eyes shone with the light of spiritual devotion, sometimes called fanaticism by the cynical. Magneto liked to think he was a cynic, but as the result of a painful conversation with Scott Summers--fully illustrated with charts and timelines--he had reluctantly conceded that he was a romantic idealist. He also had relatively little experience of the will-to-convert, being much more familiar with the will-to-annihilate.
Scott Summers was a profound cynic.
"Her soul is also none of your business. Butt out, Raine. Nobody is trying to interfere with your religion, and you are required to extend the same courtesy to others. You can pray for her on your own time, but silently." Scott could make wonderful use of the visor when he wanted to look extra-cold, but his voice was ice itself.
Raine's eyes were spilling over with tears, and Magneto congratulated himself on having the foresight to call Scott and double-team the child. He himself had a weakness for this one, but Scott had a heart of stone. Yet he knew that the child was only temporarily quenched.
***
"I don't know what to do with her."
Eric Magnus Lehnsherr, aka Magneto, collapsed his powerful frame into a shabby Barcalounger while Scott fished two beers out of the compact refrigerator in the corner of the Teachers' Lounge. Neither man was technically on duty, although in fact they were on duty at all times by nature and training. But sometimes beer was a necessity.
"Let's review." Scott tossed Magneto a bottle; Magneto twirled his index finger and the metal caps spun themselves off and into the recycling bin.
"What did you do last time she pulled this crap?"
Magneto took the time to swallow. Horrible American beer. In one compartment of his brain he made a note to stock up with the good stuff. Scott Summers was an inveterate cheapskate, and some things were worth the money
"I explained that Amara has the right to worship as she thinks right. She explained to me that Amara's religion is false. I pointed out that Amara does not think so; she retorted that Amara's opinion has no bearing on the truth of the case. I insisted that Amara has the right to follow the dictates of her own conscience; Raine insisted that Amara has an unregenerate conscience, whatever that is." He rubbed the bridge of his nose furiously. "I think we need more beer."
"Oh yeah, we need more beer. But we're going to make do with what we have." Scott sighed and shut his eyes. He leaned back in the ancient, sprung Lazy Boy and rubbed the empty bottle on his forehead. The air conditioning was on the fritz again, as if they didn't have enough problems.
"It's a mistake to let her tangle you up in theological arguments. It's irrelevant anyway: she may think that we only have the right to do God's will, but the rule of this school is that everybody makes their own decisions about religion. What?"
Magneto was still laughing. "She told me that Christ is not a religion!"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Damn professional little hustler. Tell her you're not interested. The school has rules and the rules will be obeyed and if they're not obeyed I'm not averse to warming a few butts."
Magneto's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Mr. Summers," he said sarcastically, "That's the path that leads to unilateral terrorist ultimata. Pray, don't start down that road!"
"'Ultimata'?"
Magneto considered. "'Ultimata' is correct, but 'ultimatums' is good colloquial usage. You are evading the issue."
"I've been working with children since I was 14." Scott gave in and went to get more beers.
"They're devious little beasts, and sometimes you just have to pull out the old, 'Because I said so.'"
tbc
This is a work in progress. It's a sequel to my previous Magneto fic, New Boy. The X-Men and related mutants and hangers-on are the property of National Publications and its parent corporations, and their assigns. Stan Lee gave me permission to write stories about them years ago in Stan Lee's Soapbox. Nobody may post this story without my permission. I'm not making any money off this.
Mission (working title)
"Mr. Lehnsherr!"
Not another slammed door. Magneto winced invisibly. When Amara slammed a door there was always a split second while he waited for the house to fall down.
"Amara. Calm yourself now. Please remember your mutant powers and behave responsibly."
She stopped abruptly with a shocked look on her face. "Yes, sir?"
Ah, childhood training. "Don't slam the door. Please sit down. What is the problem?"
She flushed. "I forgot. I apologize, sir." She sat down carefully.
And why should she forget? Magneto waited with diminishing patience, since, after all, he had many other concerns. But he was a teacher now and his first concern was to listen. Scott Summers had said so many times.
Amara was scowling and wringing her hands. "It is Raine, sir. She's doing it again."
Magneto suppressed a groan. Not again.
***
"But she's a pagan, sir!"
Raine turned an imploring face to him, but he was not deceived. He knew very well that the child was pig-headedness itself, for she had been admonished before. He steeled himself to be stern.
"So she is a pagan. That is her business. It is none of your affair."
"Her soul's welfare is my business!" Raine's eyes shone with the light of spiritual devotion, sometimes called fanaticism by the cynical. Magneto liked to think he was a cynic, but as the result of a painful conversation with Scott Summers--fully illustrated with charts and timelines--he had reluctantly conceded that he was a romantic idealist. He also had relatively little experience of the will-to-convert, being much more familiar with the will-to-annihilate.
Scott Summers was a profound cynic.
"Her soul is also none of your business. Butt out, Raine. Nobody is trying to interfere with your religion, and you are required to extend the same courtesy to others. You can pray for her on your own time, but silently." Scott could make wonderful use of the visor when he wanted to look extra-cold, but his voice was ice itself.
Raine's eyes were spilling over with tears, and Magneto congratulated himself on having the foresight to call Scott and double-team the child. He himself had a weakness for this one, but Scott had a heart of stone. Yet he knew that the child was only temporarily quenched.
***
"I don't know what to do with her."
Eric Magnus Lehnsherr, aka Magneto, collapsed his powerful frame into a shabby Barcalounger while Scott fished two beers out of the compact refrigerator in the corner of the Teachers' Lounge. Neither man was technically on duty, although in fact they were on duty at all times by nature and training. But sometimes beer was a necessity.
"Let's review." Scott tossed Magneto a bottle; Magneto twirled his index finger and the metal caps spun themselves off and into the recycling bin.
"What did you do last time she pulled this crap?"
Magneto took the time to swallow. Horrible American beer. In one compartment of his brain he made a note to stock up with the good stuff. Scott Summers was an inveterate cheapskate, and some things were worth the money
"I explained that Amara has the right to worship as she thinks right. She explained to me that Amara's religion is false. I pointed out that Amara does not think so; she retorted that Amara's opinion has no bearing on the truth of the case. I insisted that Amara has the right to follow the dictates of her own conscience; Raine insisted that Amara has an unregenerate conscience, whatever that is." He rubbed the bridge of his nose furiously. "I think we need more beer."
"Oh yeah, we need more beer. But we're going to make do with what we have." Scott sighed and shut his eyes. He leaned back in the ancient, sprung Lazy Boy and rubbed the empty bottle on his forehead. The air conditioning was on the fritz again, as if they didn't have enough problems.
"It's a mistake to let her tangle you up in theological arguments. It's irrelevant anyway: she may think that we only have the right to do God's will, but the rule of this school is that everybody makes their own decisions about religion. What?"
Magneto was still laughing. "She told me that Christ is not a religion!"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Damn professional little hustler. Tell her you're not interested. The school has rules and the rules will be obeyed and if they're not obeyed I'm not averse to warming a few butts."
Magneto's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Mr. Summers," he said sarcastically, "That's the path that leads to unilateral terrorist ultimata. Pray, don't start down that road!"
"'Ultimata'?"
Magneto considered. "'Ultimata' is correct, but 'ultimatums' is good colloquial usage. You are evading the issue."
"I've been working with children since I was 14." Scott gave in and went to get more beers.
"They're devious little beasts, and sometimes you just have to pull out the old, 'Because I said so.'"
tbc