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Fic: Do Bleeding Angels Sing? Magneto POV (R) 1/1

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  • Alyx Alexandre
    Title: Do Bleeding Angels Sing? Pairing: Magneto Category: POV Rating: R for theme Archive: List archives, Padders Messy Room
    Message 1 of 1 , May 2, 2003
      Title: Do Bleeding Angels Sing?

      Pairing: Magneto

      Category: POV

      Rating: R for theme

      Archive: List archives, Padders Messy Room
      http://www.ravenswing.com/~boots/warn.htm and my site
      (when I finish!). Everyone else please notify me
      beforehand. My name & e-mail address must remain

      Warnings: I've always held that Charles & Eric were
      lovers at some point so this may have slipped in
      somewhere. This fic was inspired by the first X-Men

      Summary: Magneto reflects on his past relationship
      with Charles as he prepares to confront the world.

      Feedback: Oooh, yes! alyx68@...

      Disclaimer: No money made, these characters are not
      mine. The X-Men are the property of Marvel.

      Dedicated to Isos Arei & Nightsister

      Do Bleeding Angels Sing?
      May 2, 2003

      Alyx Alexandre alyx68@...

      If I don't leave now I know I will do something
      drastic. I briefly entertained the perverse fantasy of
      lifting the gun from the holster of the guard,
      dropping it to the floor, discharging it
      "accidentally" - the bullet cruising with sure purpose
      - striking the distinguished Senator neatly between
      the eyes. I could see the bullet pierce the fragile
      skull, taking bone fragments through the lumpy brain
      tissue then explode from the back of the neatly
      coiffured head. The blood splattering the mindless
      flatscans waiting eagerly for the next predictable
      sound bite so that they could clap like the insane
      monkeys that they were. Banal arguments but quite
      effective for the Senator had already demolished the
      careful presentation by one of Charles� protegees. The
      crowd was enjoying her humiliation and eagerly awaited

      Senator Kelly's arguments, on the surface, made a lot
      of sense and that�s what made him dangerous. The
      Senator was not some raving lunatic but a slick
      opportunist who knew a vote-grabbing platform when he
      saw it. It was not enough to know which way the
      political wind blew. Senator Kelly was the wind itself
      and he was stirring things up even more with these

      My thoughts rested for a moment on the memory of my
      dear, sweet mother. Closing my eyes, I could see her
      seated at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes and
      softly humming a tune, stopping only to say, [[Erich,
      verlassen nicht das haus heute]]...*

      The Senator�s rant broke me out of my reverie, ��..
      And above all what they can do!� The crowd eagerly
      leapt to its feet, almost orgiastic in their delight.
      Kelly was no different from any other rabble-rouser
      with the exception that he was cloaked in authority
      and respectability. Warm. Friendly. Rational. A
      conduit for the masses yearning to release their
      fears, tensions and prejudices. They could do this and
      more through this man. Sensible, sane and
      straightforward everyone could support this man and
      they all did - Black, White, Hispanic, Asian and every
      cross-section of America supported their champion,
      Senator Kelly.

      I hated the Senator with a ferocity that made me
      tremble at times. Not nearly as much as I hated the
      murderer of my parents but close. Government sponsored
      fear and retaliation - hatred of one by the other. Few
      challenged the Mutant Registration Act - it wasn�t
      politically feasible. There was a lot of double talk
      by those who tried to have it both ways while a few
      stood by their convictions but it was not sufficient.

      It was time to leave. I had seen and heard enough.

      I stopped in my tracks as I felt a familiar tickle.
      Interesting. I hadn�t seen him among the crowd.
      Sneaky. Charles really should know better. �Whatever
      are you looking for?�

      I turn to look at him and I manage to keep my emotions
      in check. Even after all these years, he never fails
      to move me. He is my oldest friend and now we are...
      what? Enemies? No. What we are is much more
      complicated. We are both sides of the same coin even
      if he willfully refuses to see things my way.

      He wants to "co-exist", as he calls it, with the
      flatscans. I adamantly refuse to cooperate in my own
      destruction. He would like to pretend that we are no
      different from humans. This is not true. The flatscans
      are afraid of us and with good reason. We are Homo
      Superior. We are the end of their species and they
      know it. We are the gatekeepers of an exclusive club
      that the flatscans cannot join - ever. Neither by
      force, nor money, nor connections will admittance be
      granted. Membership in this club is determined at
      birth. And they hate us for it.

      How many times did Charles & I have all-night sessions
      doing nothing but discussing the unique problems of
      mutantkind in the world? He believes in humanity. I
      argued that homo sapiens are the only species dead-set
      on annihilating itself using religion, race,
      nationality, and sexuality as rational reasons for
      bloodshed. History supports me on this, of course.

      For a short, precious time, Charles was the most
      important thing to me. I would have laid my life down
      before I let anyone hurt him. I allowed myself to
      trust and receive love. That was something that I had
      not done - was afraid to do - from the moment I was so
      cruelly ripped away from my parents until I met him.

      Now I am the one causing him pain. First by rejecting
      his Dream then by actively opposing it. We both want a
      secure future for Homo Superior but our methods differ
      drastically. He may not believe this but I do care
      what he thinks about me. Mind you, his opinion of me
      is not as important as achieving my goals but I *do*
      care. I can�t think of another person besides my
      parents who have given so freely of himself solely for
      my behalf and well-being. For that, I will always
      cherish him.

      My current plan will bring his Dream and my goals to
      an apex. Sacrifices will be made, yes, but no more
      than what will happen if that bill in the Senate is
      passed. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good
      but it will be but a small price to pay to avert
      future bloodshed. Charles, a former soldier, must
      understand this. I wonder, when he awakens, will he
      say when he realizes what I accomplished? What will he
      think when he realizes how absurdly simple my plan was
      and why he didn�t think of it himself? My beautiful,
      simple, elegant plan. Mutate the X-Gene of the rich
      and powerful then of everyone else. We will all be one
      people. Brothers. Homo Superior.

      I quickly shield myself against his probing. I�m sure
      he regrets teaching me that trick but it was the only
      way that I could really open up to him - forgive the
      contradiction. It was as much for him as it was for
      me. [[Eric, you�re broadcasting again,]] he'd say.
      True, I�m *always* thinking, I�m *never* idle. It used
      to drive him crazy, especially at night when he was
      trying to sleep. So he taught me how to shield my
      thoughts. Charles is too well-bred to go where he�s
      been denied entry and won�t do so now even though he�s
      worried in every way about me.

      It will take much to wipe that disapproving look off
      of his face. He can�t read me at all but knows me well
      enough to know I'm up to something and that alarms
      him. Not to worry my dear Charles. �I will bring you
      hope, old friend.�

      As I walk away from him, tossing a farewell over my
      shoulder, I know that problems will arise but we will
      conquer them together and begin anew. Homo-Superior
      can bicker and squabble just like any flat-scan. I
      never claimed that we were perfect - but at least we
      will not kill each other about our so-called mutation.

      Charles, I shall bring you more than hope. I will
      bring you your Dream fulfilled.


      Once, I asked Charles why was he so eager to live in
      harmony with those who would eventually turn on him
      out of fear and hate. Charles is so much a part of the
      Establishment in every way except one. Lucky for him
      that he can pass for a flatscan. He bristled at that
      and threw my argument back at me. My dear Charles, I
      have never been a part of the status quo and the
      numbers tattooed on my arm remind me not to press my
      nose against the glass begging to be let in. Begging
      for *what* exactly? Protection? Acceptance? I know
      better. There is no such thing.

      Charles has the �right� everything: he is a White,
      Protestant, American male and rich enough not to have
      to worry about money. Ever. Charles breathes rarified
      air, for flatscans and Mutants alike. If he were in
      the Old Country, he would not have smelled the
      burning, heard the screams, witnessed what no child
      should ever see, be *made* to suffer. He would not
      have ended up alone. I do not begrudge him this - no
      one deserved the camps, but I am just stating facts:
      he and his family would not have been on the "wrong"

      However, that does not change the fact that you are
      tolerated, Charles. The politicians meet with you in
      secret. You�re not on their official appointment
      schedules. You�re not greeted publicly. You do not
      come through the front door. Yes, I know. Word does
      get back to me. You are tolerated because of your
      family name and the wealth that comes with it. You
      say you�re doing this for all of us and I know that
      you believe that but what about those of us who do not
      have connections or friends in high places? Let's not
      forget about the hideous, monstrous mutants who dare
      not show their faces publicly - the ones who cannot
      �pass.� Do you think they�ll be accepted as easily as
      you are? Do you think your well-mannered approach will
      work for them?

      I will make sure that Charles is out of the way. I do
      not want him to interfere and I do not want him hurt.
      A slight modification of Cerebro will not kill him but
      stun him a bit so that he is unconscious for a few
      days. I did this the last time I left him. I did not
      wish to be followed and convinced to come back to
      fight for The Dream. Yes, capitalized. I grew weary of
      it. It wasn�t a dream that I could accept. Oh, The
      Dream was good in theory but the stench of death had
      permeated my soul. I saw firsthand the cruelty man
      could inflict on the �other�, be it man, woman or
      child. The elderly and infirm were shot. People were
      murdered en masse just because. It is on the verge of
      happening again and I will not let it. Charles said he
      understood but he didn�t. How could he? Yes, Charles
      had weathered his share of troubles, wealth
      notwithstanding, but for a telepath he just couldn�t
      *see* and I had grown tired of trying to explain. He
      kept on and on about The Dream. There was no room for
      deviation, no allowances made for human intolerance,
      just a ridiculously idealized belief that everything
      would turn out for the best. I couldn�t take it
      anymore. I left him.


      The earnest-looking man made his way across the
      elegant dining room, stopping to shake hands and say a
      few words to some of the patrons here and there. He
      looked like a young politico on the move and he
      probably was. This was Washington, D.C. after all, the
      power capitol of the world. All the young turks in
      this town were jostling for power, influence and
      prestige and this one looked like he was feeding from
      the trough very well, thank you. His hair was neatly
      styled - styled - no $8 haircut for this young man.
      Brooks Brothers navy pinstripe suit, white button down
      shirt, red silk tie, black oxfords - the classic
      Washington power outfit. The young man's smile
      broadened a bit more when he saw the older gentleman
      seated in a darkened corner of the dining room. In
      this town the definition of a �power lunch� varied.
      *Who* you dined with was much more important than
      *where* one sat.

      �I was beginning to think that you weren�t coming.�

      �I apologize for that. I got stuck in traffic on 7th
      Street. I'm glad you could spare some time away from
      headquarters. What are you drinking?�

      �A bit of brandy. I took the liberty of ordering your

      �Thanks. I'm so fried I can hardly think straight. To
      think some people do this for a living. So, share your
      thoughts. You haven�t said that much about him, only

      �He certainly made sure that he got his point across
      quite effectively," Eric replied as he rolled the
      goblet gently between his palms. "He said what was on
      their minds and they loved him for it. What else is
      there to be said? He�s a politician.�

      �Kelly imagines that he is the voice of the people.
      He's planning to make that his campaign slogan next

      "How original."

      "Yeah, you're telling me." Mystique/Henry turned to
      the waiter, "I'll have a glass of your best Riesling."

      "Thank you. Your order will be ready in a few
      minutes." The waiter left.

      "Lucky for me that Henry is a guy because Kelly thinks
      he�s quite the stud with the ladies.�

      Eric chuckled, trying not to choke on his drink, �Oh,
      does he now?�

      �Yup. He likes, �Quote, �young things with fat

      This time, Eric did splutter a bit, �God save us all.�

      �Yes, the good Senator is a fine role model for
      morality and decency. If it weren�t for the State
      dinners, the Georgetown home, the Mercedes, private
      school for the kids and the weekly shopping trips to
      Neiman Marcus his wife would have left him already.
      But Sharon is one of those Senator's Wives, you know?
      Stand by your man and all that bullshit. Who would she
      be if she weren't Mrs. Senator Kelly? You know, she
      actually said that to me, that she was the reason he
      was Senator. Talk about deluding oneself. That shark
      would have made it regardless, he would have just have
      another blonde clone on his arm that�s all.

      �Tell me, does the Senator�s wife have a �fat

      �No. She has a broad bottom. He�s always complaining
      that she�s too fat.�

      �What�s the difference between a fat bottom and a
      broad one? I don�t understand.�

      �I dunno. You tell me - you�re a man. Just because I
      have the body doesn�t mean that I think like one.�

      �I can�t say that I�ve ever had an opinion on the
      female bottom one way or the other.�

      The waiter arrived with two steaming plates of
      portabella mushroom ravioli with alfredo sauce and
      steamed asparagus. He set a glass of wine in front of
      the younger man and addressed the elder, "May I pour
      another glass of brandy for you, sir?"

      "No, this is fine for the moment," the genteel man
      said with a smile.

      The waiter left after being assured they wanted
      neither freshly grated cheese, truffles nor

      �You don�t want to know how much they charge for
      spaghetti and sauce in this town. They call spaghetti
      "pasta" and tack on an Italian name to pretend it�s
      authentic. And a glass of wine costs almost as much as
      the whole bottle. I hope you�re picking up the tab?�

      �Nah. Let�s charge this one to the good Senator.�

      "I meant to ask you, what is it like to be Henry

      Mystique shrugged, "I don't know exactly. I'm just
      *him.* Voice. Mannerisms. I just know what to do when
      I'm him. No one suspects a thing. I despise him. He's
      just like Kelly, only worse. You should see his porn
      collection. It's disgusting."

      "Please spare me the details."

      "Okay, but he has no sex life. Who would go out with
      this cretin? He pretends that its because he works
      such late hours but most women are repelled by him.
      He's been trying to get more face-time on the networks
      just so that he can get a date. Pathetic."

      "Really? I didn't realize that Guyrich fancied women,
      what with his Dupont Circle condo and all."

      "I don't think he knows himself. He is one confused

      "Do you think it was wise meeting me as him, though?"

      Mystique shrugged, "Why not? He swims with the fishes,
      as they say. I take it you saw Charles at the

      �Not until I left but we talked.�

      �Do you think he found out what we're planning?�

      �If he did, I don�t think he would have let me leave.�

      �Now, why would you want to leave, Eric?�

      The young man seated opposite him had vanished,
      leaving an older, bald man in his place.

      �Must you do that?� Eric turned away, pained.

      �Why does he bother you so much?�

      �Why do you care?�

      Mystique returned to her previous form as Guyrich. �I
      don�t, particularly.� I studied the dossier you gave
      us. Charles is very powerful and you two have a
      history. What happened between you two?�

      �It�s a long story. Let me enjoy my meal.�

      �He�s going to be trouble, you know. What are you
      going to do about him?�

      �Not to worry, my dear. I know how to neutralize
      Charles. We have other things to set our sights on.�

      �Such as?�

      �Such as obtaining the conductor for the machine.
      That�s the final piece that will bring everything
      together. It will all fall into place beautifully,
      you'll see. I want to propose a toast, to our shared

      When Charles woke up, he would greet a brand new
      world. Where all of us would be Brothers, Mutants all.

      Mazel tov.


      Comments? Critiques? alyx68@...

      [[Erich, verlassen nicht das haus heute]]...*
      Erich, don�t leave the house today. (Please forgive my
      German ;->!)

      Henry Guyrich is Senator Kelly's assistant.

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