—

The private airfield stretched before us, a narrow strip of concrete cutting through the greenery of upstate New York. A stiff breeze carried the scent of jet fuel and freshly cut grass as our small group stood waiting near the runway.

I noted that the sky today. It above was painfully blue, the kind of perfect day that makes disaster seem impossible.

I knew better.

Gwen stood beside me with her arms crossed, her ginger hair dancing in the wind as she scanned the horizon. "They're late," she muttered, checking her watch for the third time in as many minutes.

"Only by four minutes," I replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of tension in my stomach. "Even X-Men aren't that punctual."

Grandpa Max moved with military precision, checking our bags and surveying the perimeter with practiced eyes. Though he wore civilian clothes – his usual Hawaiian shirt that somehow looked more intimidating than comforting – his posture remained that of a veteran Plumber. Ready for anything.

Madelyne stood slightly apart from us, her gothic transformation drawing curious glances from the nearby mutant students. The black streaks in her red hair whipped around her face like war paint, her dark lipstick and clothes creating a striking silhouette against the bright day.

"You okay?" I asked, moving to stand beside her.

She nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Just thinking about what awaits us."

"Fancy dinner, diplomatic posturing with an international terrorist, and then potential genocide," I counted off on my fingers. "The usual Tuesday."

That earned me a small smile. "Your ability to joke in the face of apocalypse is either your greatest strength or a concerning coping mechanism."

"Why not both?" I winked, just as the distant roar of engines drew our attention skyward.

Two aircraft approached – the sleek, predatory shape of the X-Men's Blackbird and a smaller, more conventional private jet behind it. They descended in perfect formation, touching down with barely a whisper despite their size and speed. Storm's work, no doubt, manipulating air currents to ensure a smooth landing.

As the Blackbird's engines powered down, the side hatch opened to reveal a short staircase. First came Storm, regal in her X-Men uniform, white hair flowing despite the absence of wind. Behind her was Scott Summers wearing his ruby quartz visor, jaw set in that permanently uptight expression I'd come to associate with him.

Then Jean Grey emerged, and I felt Madelyne tense beside me.

The physical resemblance between them remained perfect – same height, same build, same emerald eyes. But where Jean radiated calm authority in her standard X-Men uniform, Madelyne had deliberately crafted herself as Jean's visual opposite.

"This should be interesting," Gwen whispered, picking up on the tension immediately.

Jean spotted us, her gaze moving from me and then immediately to Madelyne as if she didn't want to maintain eye contact with me. A flash of something that I couldn't quite place crossed her face before she schooled her expression into diplomatic neutrality.

"Ben, Gwendolyn," she greeted, approaching with outstretched hands. "And Madelyne. You look good."

Very good to the eye, even if different from Jean's own style. Madelyne's smile was razor-sharp. "That's rather the point."

I watched as Jean took her hand, and the two of them shared a look. The exchange took seconds, yet volumes passed between them in the brief contact – unspoken questions, boundaries established, power assessed. They wanted to see if they'd changed as a person in the last day.

"Ah, Maxwell," Xavier's voice cut through the tension as he emerged from the jet on his hovering wheelchair. "I apologize for making you wait. We had to make a quick detour to drop Emma off at her school. She'll join us by herself later."

"Haha, that's perfectly alright, Charles." Grandpa Max's voice held warmth beneath its professionalism. "The small details that we must maintain."

"Indeed."

While they exchanged pleasantries, my eyes flickered to see more X-Men coming. Beast's blue fur was unmistakable, even at a distance. As usual, Logan's compact frame radiated controlled aggression, followed by several younger mutants I recognized from the Institute. Jubilee waved at me.

"So many people rushing to our deaths, haah… Ready for this?" Gwen asked me quietly, her green eyes scanning the assembled mutants.

"Not even slightly," I admitted under my breath.

"Professor," Jean called over her shoulder. "Perhaps we should board? Magneto is expecting us by sundown."

Xavier nodded, gesturing toward the Blackbird. "Of course. Benjamin, please join us with your companions on the Blackbird. The diplomatic envoy from the UN will follow in the secondary craft."

As we approached the sleek aircraft, Storm offered a gracious smile. "Welcome aboard. We've prepared for a comfortable journey."

The interior of the Blackbird was more spacious than it appeared from outside, with rows of padded seats and sophisticated technology lining the walls. Grandpa Max immediately began examining the control panels with professional interest.

"Vertical takeoff capabilities, scramjet propulsion, and if I'm not mistaken, some form of cloaking technology?" he asked Beast, who beamed at the recognition.

"Ah, indeed! The Blackbird incorporates various advanced technologies, some of extraterrestrial origin, I suspect." Beast's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Perhaps we could compare notes sometime, Magistrate Tennyson?"

Grandpa Max laughed. "It's been a while since anyone's called me that." That was his polite way of saying 'no.'

We settled into our seats as Storm and Cyclops took their positions as pilot and co-pilot. I found myself between Gwen and Madelyne, the two redheads sharing a look, while Jean sat directly across the aisle from me. Her gaze kept returning to Madelyne, a mixture of scientific curiosity and genuine concern.

A holographic screen flickered to life at the front of the cabin, displaying Professor Xavier's face. He'd already boarded the second aircraft, but I guess he wanted to address everyone.

"We've talked about this time and time again, but I must mention it one last time. This mission carries significant diplomatic weight," he began, his voice calm but authoritative. "Genosha represents the first sovereign nation created by and for mutants. Its success or failure will impact mutant-human relations for generations to come."

I shifted uncomfortably, knowing what Xavier didn't want to believe. That Genosha's fate hung by the thinnest of threads, with catastrophe looming just days away unless we could change its course.

"All mutants deserve the opportunity to see Genosha's promise fulfilled," Xavier continued. "Remember that we are guests of Magneto, but also representatives of a different path toward coexistence."

As the engines powered up with a subsonic hum, I gripped the armrests. The weight of foreknowledge pressed against my chest. Beside me, Madelyne's breathing had quickened slightly, her eyes fixed on some middle distance as if seeing something the rest of us couldn't.

"What do you see?" I whispered as the Blackbird lifted smoothly into the air.

"Possibilities… again…" she murmured, so quiet only I could hear. "Too many endings, most of them in flames."

"...Alright."

The aircraft accelerated, pushing us gently back against our seats as we soared toward Genosha. And whatever fate awaited us there.

****

Genosha unfolded beneath us like a fever dream made real.

As the Blackbird descended through cloud cover, the island nation revealed itself in all its surreal splendor. Crystal spires rose from the landscape, catching the sunlight and fracturing it into a rainbow of patterns across the ground. Buildings curved and flowed in ways that defied conventional architecture, some hovering without visible support, others spiraling upward in impossible helixes.

"Holy shit," Gwen blinked rapidly beside me, pressing her face against the window. "Isn't that a beautiful sight?"

She wasn't wrong. Between the gleaming structures lay vibrant gardens where plants from every climate seemed to thrive side by side – tropical flowers beside alpine conifers, desert succulents intertwined with rainforest vines. Weather-controlling mutants maintained different microclimates throughout the city, creating ecological diversity impossible anywhere else on Earth.

"I agree. Impressive what they've accomplished in such a short time," Grandpa Max commented, though his eyes seemed to be assessing the defensive capabilities rather than the aesthetics.

"Magneto has been planning this for decades," Jean replied. "Gathering resources, technology, designing everything down to the smallest detail."

As we circled lower, I could see mutants going about their lives, using powers openly in ways that would have drawn fear or violence elsewhere.

A teenager with translucent, butterfly-like wings fluttered alongside her mother, carrying groceries through open air rather than walking. A man casually manipulated metal, crafting intricate sculptures that assembled themselves from raw materials floating around him. Children with various physical mutations played in parks designed to accommodate their unique abilities.

"Paradise," Madelyne said softly, though something in her tone suggested skepticism.

The landing pad awaited us – a circular platform of polished metal that seemed to adjust its molecular structure as we approached, creating the perfect surface tension for our descent. Storm guided the Blackbird down with characteristic precision, the engines powering down to a whisper.

"Welcome to Genosha," a voice announced through the communication system. "The sovereign nation where mutation is celebrated, not feared."

As we disembarked, the air hit me first. It was impossibly clean and carried traces of a dozen different flower scents. The temperature was perfect, like perpetual spring. Even the gravity felt slightly different, as if Magneto had adjusted the Earth's magnetic field to make his domain more comfortable.

A small delegation awaited us at the edge of the landing pad. They weren't in uniform, but something about their posture and vigilant eyes identified them as security rather than diplomatic staff.

"Professor Xavier's group?" A tall woman with iridescent scales covering her arms stepped forward. "I'm Diplomat Sharra. Welcome to Genosha."

As we made introductions, I noticed Grandpa Max studying the surroundings with the practiced eye of someone who's seen too many battlefields to ever fully relax.

"What is it?" I asked him quietly as we followed the delegation toward a transport vehicle.

"Defense systems," he murmured. "Integrated throughout the architecture. Sensor arrays, concealed weapon platforms, redundant power nodes. Magneto's built a fortress disguised as paradise."

I glanced around, suddenly seeing what he saw – the subtle positioning of buildings to create overlapping fields of fire, the way certain structures could clearly transform into defensive barriers, the pattern of metal inlaid throughout the streets that could become weapons with a thought from Magneto.

"He's prepared for war, not just governance," Grandpa continued. "This isn't your usual nation. It's a bunker with good views."

Before I could respond, Madelyne stumbled slightly beside me, one hand flying to her temple. Her eyes flashed orange for just an instant – so brief I might have imagined it.

"You okay?" I caught her elbow, steadying her.

"The energy here is... strange," she whispered, glancing around as if seeing something invisible to the rest of us. "Like the island itself is holding its breath."

Jean frowned from the side. From the looks of it, she didn't share the same vision. How interesting.

We boarded our transport then. It was a sleek, hovering vehicle without wheels that glided silently through the capital city. Through the windows, I could see everyday life in Genosha unfold: cafés where patrons with physical mutations sat comfortably without stares or whispers, schools where children practiced powers under careful supervision, markets where goods from around the world were traded freely.

Yet I couldn't shake the feeling of borrowed time. Every laughing child. Every peaceful scene. They felt like a photograph about to be burned at the edges.

"Look, the citizens are watching us," Gwen observed, nodding subtly toward the pedestrians we passed. Their reactions varied widely – hope and curiosity in some faces, suspicion and wariness in others. "They're not sure if we're allies or threats. Well, we as in the X-Men."

"Can you blame them?" I replied. "Most of these people came here escaping persecution. Trust doesn't come easily."

Our transport turned onto a wide boulevard leading toward the center of the island, where Magneto's citadel dominated the skyline – a masterpiece of metallurgy and magnetic manipulation that seemed to defy gravity itself. Sections of the massive structure rotated slowly around a central spire, maintaining perfect balance through forces only Magneto fully understood.

"The House of Magnus," our guide announced with unmistakable pride. "The heart of Genosha and home to our founder and protector. Our King."

Magneto, the King of Mutants.

As we approached the imposing structure, I couldn't help but think of all the effort, all the dreams poured into this place. And then how quickly it could all be reduced to ash two days later. The weight of that knowledge felt like Atlas's burden, crushing me with responsibility I'd never asked for but couldn't ignore.

"Benjamin Tennyson, fix your expression a little," Gwen whispered, her hand finding mine. "You look like you're at a funeral."

I could only squeeze her fingers briefly.

For now comes the immediate threat. Dinner with Magneto…

****

Magneto's citadel was even more impressive from within. It was like an artwork of metal and magnetism that hummed with barely perceptible energy.

The walls themselves seemed alive, responding to the presence of mutants by subtly reshaping doorways or adjusting lighting to accommodate various physiologies. Curved corridors opened into vast chambers where metal flowed like water, forming and reforming into functional art.

The greeting hall stood at the center. It was a magnificent space with a domed ceiling that displayed a real-time projection of the sky above, currently transitioning from afternoon blue to the first hints of sunset orange.

Representatives from various small and big mutant factions already mingled, their conversations creating a low murmur beneath the faint musical tones emanating from vibrating metal sculptures.

And there, at the far end of the hall, stood Magneto himself.

Without his helmet and cape, he looked both more human and somehow more imposing. Silver hair framed a face weathered by decades of struggle but unbowed by it. His posture was perfect, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind his back as he conversed with a small group of officials. He wore a tailored burgundy suit rather than his combat attire, yet the authority he projected remained unmistakable. The muscles underneath couldn't be hidden by fabrics.

"The architect of all this," I thought, watching him, "and I'm here to stop his dream from becoming a nightmare."

He turned as we entered, seeming to sense our presence despite the busy room. With a subtle gesture to excuse himself from his current conversation, he moved toward us with the fluid grace of a predator perfectly at ease in his territory.

"Charles," he greeted, genuine warmth in his voice as he extended a hand to Xavier. "Welcome to Genosha."

"Erik," Xavier replied, clasping the offered hand. "Your accomplishments here are remarkable. And it feels great to see you without the helmet for once."

"Thank you, I'm trying to relax for this. And no, they are the accomplishments of all mutants who dared dream of freedom," Magneto replied smoothly. His gaze swept over our group, pausing briefly on me with an expression I couldn't quite interpret. "And I see you've brought interesting companions."

Several Brotherhood members had gathered behind Magneto – Mystique in her natural blue form, her yellow eyes coolly assessing, Pyro fidgeting with a lighter, and… Rogue, who stood slightly apart, her white-streaked hair framing sharp eyes that found mine immediately.

So Magneto accepted her back into the ranks after the success of her previous mission? She should thank me, I made a mental note to ask her about it later on.

For now, I had more serious matters to handle.

For Magneto was staring at me as if I was a zoo animal.

"The Tennyson boy," Magneto acknowledged with a slight nod in my direction. "I hear you've been... busy since our last encounter. Anna spoke well of you as well, despite you causing that big misunderstanding."

"Just trying to keep the world spinning," I replied with a casualness I didn't feel. "Nice place you've got here."

His lips quirked in what might have been amusement. "Indeed. Perhaps later you'll allow me to show you some of our technological achievements. I believe they might interest someone with your unique perspective."

The way he emphasized those last words made me hold back a sigh. What did he have in mind about me? About the Omnitrix? About what I knew?

Introductions continued around the circle – Grandpa Max received a surprisingly respectful greeting from Magneto that hinted at a shared history, Gwen was assessed with subtle curiosity, and Madelyne drew particular attention.

"Ah," Magneto said, studying her with unabashed interest. "Jean Grey's... sister, I believe?"

"Madelyne Pryor," she corrected firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "You can say that, but I'm more of my own person."

"Of course," he inclined his head. "Forgive the presumption. In Genosha, we understand the importance of self-determination better than most."

That was it.

For now, Magneto didn't seem interested in grabbing the Omnitrix and cutting my wrist. Whatever plan he had for me, if at all, it probably wouldn't unfold before the ceremony.

As the formalities continued, I noticed subtle dynamics playing out across the room. Emma Frost soon joined us somehow, resplendent in white as always, and dismissed Madelyne with a glance before engaging Xavier in conversation.

Mystique maintained careful neutrality, though her posture shifted minutely whenever Magneto moved, revealing her protective instincts. Most interestingly, Magneto continued to show Grandpa Max a degree of respect that surprised me.

"I need to pee," I lied to Gwen after several minutes of diplomatic small talk that set my teeth on edge with its false normality.

She nodded, barely glancing away from her conversation with a blue-skinned mutant discussing energy manipulation techniques. "Don't get lost. Or kidnapped. Or start an international incident."

"That never happened," I protested, earning a snort before slipping away.

I wanted to check out this place. Perhaps transform into Ghostfreak to look around the island for hidden Sentinels.

The corridors beyond the main hall were quieter but no less impressive. Metal inlays in the floors responded to my footsteps with faint luminescence, guiding me without the need for signs. I followed them, allowing myself a moment to breathe away from the tension of playing nice with people who might be enemies within hours.

"Lost, transformation boy?" a familiar Southern drawl came from behind me.

I shook my head and turned to find Rogue emerging from a side passage, her usual combat gear replaced by an elegant emerald dress that complemented her eyes. The black material covered her completely from neck to wrists to ankles – beautiful but functional for someone whose skin was a weapon. Although the turtleneck made her face far too small.

[Image Here]

"Just exploring," I replied, studying her. Without the adrenaline of battle between us, I could see the strain behind her confident posture – the vigilance of someone always aware that their touch could kill. "Thought I'd get the unauthorized tour."

"Dangerous hobby in a place like this." She leaned against the wall, keeping a careful distance between us. "Some areas are off-limits for a reason. If you act too suspicious, I might have to give you a beating."

Hmm.

Was she trying to catch hands or what?

**

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