Ash's POV – The Glass Prison
I had about ten, maybe twelve minutes. Not much, but more than enough.
Looping the camera feed was almost laughably simple once I'd borrowed Gary's Rotom. That little gremlin may have had the personality of a caffeine-addicted tech gremlin, but when it came to electronics, it was a monster. It jacked into the surveillance network through the prison's electrical grid—possessed the right junction box like it was born for it. Within seconds, all the camera feeds in the observation deck were cycling a five-minute loop of an empty hallway and a seated prisoner.
To keep the guards from noticing anything unusual, I let Gardevoir cast a low-level psychic haze over their minds—nothing heavy, just a feather-light nudge of distraction. Just enough to keep their attention away from the glass cell. If anyone did wander too close, she'd nudge them gently in the opposite direction. Nothing suspicious. Just... forgettable.
That earned us a clean window. Silent. Undetected. Controlled.
Now came the trickier part—me.
I wasn't stupid enough to meet Erik Lehnsherr as an eleven-year-old kid.
My Aura pulsed quietly beneath my skin as I manipulated my outward appearance. Bones lengthened subtly. Shoulders squared. My face sharpened with maturity, and my eyes adjusted with faint creases of someone who'd seen a few more years than they should have. Twenty. Maybe twenty-one. Enough to project experience. Enough to be taken seriously.
Gardevoir helped. Her illusion lent weight to mine, smoothing the edges and hiding any Aura flickers I might miss. Together, we made me someone else—someone believable.
Now I sat across from one of the most dangerous mutants to ever live.
Erik Lehnsherr.
Even without metal, even trapped inside a glass and plastic cell designed specifically to neuter his gifts, the power he carried was impossible to ignore. It wasn't something you could measure by posture or presence alone. It sat beneath the surface, like a tectonic plate—immense and immovable. Dormant. But not dead.
He hadn't said anything yet.
He was watching me. Quietly. Intently. His eyes didn't just look at me—they weighed me. Judging every breath, every blink, every shadow of hesitation.
His face was a map of time. Not tired, but... deliberate. Like a man who had long since stopped needing to raise his voice to make others listen. Like someone who had lived through too much and somehow survived with all his convictions intact.
The kind of man who could make you question whether you were the protagonist in your own story.
I folded my arms on the plastic table between us, Pikachu calm on my shoulder, tail flicking idly like a loose fuse waiting to burn.
"Erik Lehnsherr," I said, letting the silence crack, "we need to talk."
He raised an eyebrow.
I gestured toward the empty chair across from me. "I have about ten minutes before people start noticing something's wrong."
He studied me for another heartbeat, then slowly pulled the chair back and sat. His movements weren't slow with age. They were slow with intention.
If he was curious about who I was, he didn't show it yet.
That was fine. I'd start talking soon enough.
But first, I took a moment to commit this to memory.
I was sitting across from Magneto.
And for the first time in a long while... I didn't feel like a kid.
I felt like a player at the table.
The hum of the fluorescent lights above was barely noticeable over the weight of the silence between us. Pikachu's tail flicked once behind me, but even he stayed quiet, sensing the heaviness of what came next.
I leaned forward slightly, elbows on the plastic table. "Tell me, Erik," I said calmly, voice flat but firm, "do you still want to get rid of humanity? Or rule over them?"
There wasn't a pause. No consideration.
"Yes."
The answer came fast. Sharper than steel. No guilt. No hesitation. Just truth.
That was Erik Lehnsherr.
I nodded slowly, not surprised. "Then you'll die doing so."
That got a flicker from him. A tightening around the jaw. A storm behind the eyes. He didn't snap, but the air shifted—his rage didn't burn hot, it smoldered cold.
"You speak in platitudes," he said, biting off the words. "Like a child who hasn't seen the truth yet. Should we just continue to suffer then? Be culled like cattle? Hunted like monsters? We've tried patience. Tried peaceful protest. And what did that bring us? Discrimination. Internment. Death. Again and again."
His eyes met mine. There was steel in them. And memory. Too much memory.
I didn't blink. "Did you know that about 35% of humans carry the X-gene?"
Erik's head tilted, curious.
"They're dormant. Recessive. Hidden in DNA that hasn't been triggered yet. But they're there. One in three. That means in time—maybe not in 100 years, maybe 200—but eventually, we will be the majority. One day, every human born on Earth will carry the potential to become a mutant."
His lip curled—not quite a snarl, but close.
"So what?" he growled. "We wait? Sit patiently while they slaughter us one generation at a time? Let our children be tested, imprisoned, erased before they bloom?" He leaned in now. "That's your solution? Hope?"
"No," I said simply. "I'm telling you your methods are wrong."
That got a real reaction. The tension in his posture drew taut like a wire about to snap. But I didn't stop.
"Everything has a system, Erik. And every time you tear that system down with a bloodied fist, mutants take the blame. You don't push mutantkind forward. You give the world an excuse to fear us. You justify their paranoia. Their violence."
His knuckles turned white against the plastic surface, eyes burning holes through me.
"I know what you want," I said. "You want safety. Dignity. A future where we don't have to hide. But your way turns us into weapons. Not people."
"You speak of survival like you've lived through genocide," he spat, voice low but venomous. "Like you've watched children burn in the streets."
"No," I said softly, "but I know what's coming if we don't change."
He was about to speak again—another rebuttal, another cold retort—but I lifted a hand.
"With all due respect," I said, "mutants can't survive alone."
He scoffed audibly.
Before he could unleash the usual diatribe, a shimmer passed beside me. A flicker in the air.
Gengar emerged from the shadows—silent, grinning, eyes glowing like violet moons.
Erik's body stiffened instantly. He recoiled slightly from the thing that shouldn't have been able to exist inside a prison like this.
"He's with me," I said, and Gengar floated beside me with an amused hum.
"More tricks?" Erik asked, voice controlled but wary.
I gave a faint smirk. "Something like that."
With a twist of my fingers, Gengar's body rippled. Illusions sparked to life in the air, projected like a living hologram across the sterile walls.
A Chitauri warship—descending through a New York skyline.
A Sentinel—one of the future models, towering, relentless.
A Celestial's hand, halfway across the sky.
A rift in reality. A Titan's army. A godlike entity of madness.
Each flickered for a heartbeat, then vanished into mist.
"This is why we can't afford to tear each other apart," I said. "Every single week, something tries to take Earth off the map. Aliens. Gods. Interdimensional horrors. And they don't care who's a mutant and who isn't."
Erik stared at the dissolving illusions, unmoved—but not uninterested.
"If we stand alone," I said quietly, "we die alone."
A pause. Measured. Heavy.
"And you?" Erik asked finally, eyes flicking back to me. "What would you have us do? Grovel at their feet? Become beggars in our own home?"
"No," I said. "You lead. You defend. You make them realize they need us."
Another illusion sparked to life—of Magneto himself, metal torn from the Earth, ripping through alien ships like butter.
"You," I said, voice strong, "are one of the greatest defenses this planet has. You could tear apart their war machines like tinfoil. You want to matter? Make it so they come to you. Not out of fear—but out of need."
Erik's eyes stayed fixed on the fading illusion of himself tearing through alien ships. When he spoke, his voice was measured but skeptical.
"Need," he repeated slowly. "You want me to become their protector. Their shield." His jaw tightened. "After everything they've done to us."
"Not their protector," I corrected. "Their equal. Their partner. There's a difference."
I leaned back in the plastic chair, fingers drumming once against the table. "The system is broken, Erik. We both know that. But the difference between us is this—you want to smash it with a hammer. I want to rebuild it from the inside out."
"Pretty words," Erik said, but there was something in his tone—not dismissal, but wariness. "How?"
I gestured for Gengar to project another illusion. This time, it wasn't alien ships or Sentinels. It was documents. Files. Video footage.
"We expose them first," I said. "Every black site. Every illegal experiment. Every child ripped from their family and disappeared into a government lab." The images shifted—laboratory tables, surgical equipment, frightened faces behind glass. "We make it impossible for them to hide what they've been doing."
Erik's expression darkened as he watched the illusions cycle through scenes of horror. "And then?"
"Then we show them the truth about what's coming." Another gesture, and the illusions changed again. "How any child—their child—could manifest tomorrow. How the dormant X-gene doesn't care about skin color, or wealth, or political affiliation. How their own son or daughter could be the next one dragged away in the night."
The silence stretched between us. Erik was thinking—I could see it in the way his fingers flexed against the table.
"Fear," he said finally. "You're still using fear."
"I'm using truth," I replied. "The fear is already there, Erik. They're just afraid of the wrong things. Right now they're afraid of us. I want them afraid of losing their children to the same system that's been grinding up ours."
Erik leaned forward, interested despite himself. "And after the exposure? After the panic?"
"Then we offer solutions." I smiled grimly. "We don't just tear down their senators and congressmen—we buy them. Legal bribes through campaign contributions, lobbying, 'consulting fees.' We put our people in positions of power. We draft legislation that protects mutant rights while framing it as protecting all children."
"Manipulation," Erik said, but there was approval in his voice now.
"Politics," I corrected. "The same game they've been playing against us for decades. We just play it better." The illusions shifted again—this time showing newspaper headlines, TV interviews, social media campaigns. "We control the narrative. Make mutant registration sound like what it really is—a prelude to genocide. Make it so that supporting anti-mutant legislation becomes political suicide."
Erik was quiet for a long moment, studying the projected headlines. When he looked back at me, there was something calculating in his eyes.
"You're talking about years of work," he said. "Maybe decades."
"Yes," I agreed. "But it's work that actually leads somewhere. Your way—" I gestured vaguely, "—might feel satisfying in the moment, but it always ends the same way. With more dead mutants and more reasons for humans to hate us."
"And you think they'll just... accept us? After everything?"
"I think they'll accept that we're not going anywhere," I said. "And once they realize their own children are at stake, they'll accept that we need to find a way to coexist. Self-preservation is a powerful motivator."
Erik was silent again, considering. I could almost see him running through scenarios in his head, weighing possibilities.
"There's something else," I said quietly. "Something immediate."
His eyes sharpened. "What?"
"Xavier and I are planning to hit the experimentation facilities in 36 hours. There are children there, Erik. Dozens of them. Some as young as eight years old." I met his gaze steadily. "We're going to get them out. All of them."
"Charles won't approve of my methods," Erik said, but I caught the flicker of interest.
"Charles doesn't have to know about your methods," I replied. "He just needs to know you're helping save those kids." I paused. "And honestly? We could use someone who can rip apart their security systems like tissue paper."
Erik's fingers drummed against the table—a mirror of my earlier gesture. "You want me to help you raid a government facility, rescue mutant children, and then somehow convince me to spend the next decade playing political games instead of just ending the threat permanently."
"I want you to help me save those children," I said simply. "Everything else... we can discuss after they're safe."
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Pikachu's tail twitched behind me. Gengar floated silently, his grin unchanged but his eyes watchful.
Erik was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of old convictions.
"Your methods," he said slowly, "require faith in a system that has never shown us mercy. You ask me to believe that the same people who built those laboratories will suddenly develop a conscience when their own children are at risk." He shook his head. "I've lived too long to have that kind of optimism."
I started to respond, but he held up a hand.
"But," he continued, his voice hardening with resolve, "those children in the experimentation facilities didn't choose this fight. They don't deserve to suffer for the sins of their captors or the failures of our methods." His eyes met mine, steel meeting steel. "I may not believe in your political games, but I believe in saving innocent lives."
He leaned back in his chair, the metal beneath creaking slightly. "So yes, I'll help you tear apart their facilities. I'll help you rescue every last child they've imprisoned. But don't mistake my cooperation for conversion to your cause."
A pause. Then, quieter: "After those Mutants are safe, we part ways. You can try to reform your broken system. I'll continue dismantling it."
The challenge hung in the air between us—an agreement born of necessity, not ideology.
I leaned forward, meeting his gaze directly. "I need you to understand something, Erik. If you go back to targeting innocents after this—civilians, children, anyone who doesn't deserve your war—I will stop you."
His eyebrows rose slightly, more amused than threatened. "Will you now?"
"Yes," I said simply. "And I'm asking you to give my way a real chance. Not decades—just one year. Let me show you what we can accomplish."
Erik studied me for a long moment. There was something flickering behind his eyes—not quite hope, but perhaps the ghost of it. A memory of the idealistic young man who had once believed change was possible without rivers of blood. But his expression remained impassive, controlled.
"You promise to hunt me down if I stray from your moral compass," he said, voice carrying a hint of dark amusement. "And in the same breath, ask me to trust in your methods. You're either very brave or very foolish."
"Maybe both," I admitted. Then I grinned—sharp and predatory. "But here's the thing, Erik. I'm not asking you to trust the system. I'm asking you to let me abuse it."
That got his attention. The mask of indifference cracked just slightly.
"We're not going to play by their rules," I continued, my grin widening. "We're going to use their own corruption against them. Their greed, their fear, their petty ambitions. We'll twist their precious democracy into knots until it serves our purposes instead of theirs."
Something shifted in Erik's posture—a subtle relaxation, like a predator recognizing a kindred spirit. He didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"One year," he said finally. "I give you one year to prove your methods can accomplish more than mine. But if innocent blood is spilled because of your... restraint... then we do this my way."
"Deal," I said without hesitation.
He nodded once, sharp and decisive. "When do we leave?"
I stood up from the plastic chair, Pikachu immediately hopping onto my shoulder. Gengar dissolved back into the shadows with a satisfied chuckle.
"We're getting you out of here now," I said, checking the corridor through the reinforced window. "You'll need twenty-four hours to gather whoever you can trust for this. I already have my people ready."
Erik rose as well, his movements fluid despite the months of confinement. "And Charles?"
"Doesn't know about this conversation," I said firmly, turning back to face him. "As far as he's concerned, you escaped on your own. We never met. You had a change of heart about helping mutant children—that's all he needs to know."
Erik's expression sharpened. "You don't trust him with the truth?"
"Charles is a pacifist fool," I replied bluntly. "His inaction and endless faith in 'peaceful solutions' has gotten more mutants killed than your methods ever did. He'd spend the next week trying to psychoanalyze our agreement instead of focusing on the mission. He'd want to 'understand' your motivations, probably try to peek into your head to see if you're sincere." I gave him a pointed look. "We both know how you feel about telepathic intrusions."
A muscle in Erik's jaw twitched—old anger, familiar territory. "Fair point."
"Besides," I continued, "Charles works best when he believes people are capable of genuine redemption. Let him think you've had an epiphany about protecting children. It's not entirely untrue."
"And if he asks how I knew about the experimentation facilities?"
"You've been gathering intelligence with allies, pieced things together. Charles won't question it too deeply—he'll be too focused on the rescue to worry about your sources."
Erik nodded slowly. "Twenty-four hours, then. How will I find you?"
I smiled. "You won't. I'll find you."
The lights flickered once—Gengar's doing, I suspected. When they steadied, I was already moving toward the door.
"Remember, Erik," I said without turning around. "We never met."
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A.N. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts down in the comments.
Lately, the fanfics I have been reading on this site have me feeling hollow, the same plots, the same MC's, the same stories. Maybe I'm just reading the wrong stuff. But in the same breath, I have been focused more on my own FanFic a lot, so much so I get distracted when reading, thinking of different ideas to put in this book.
This may be a temporary issue due to my inexperience as a writer, but I'd appreciate your thoughts on it.
P.S. Give me some recommendations on Fanfics you like down in the comments, I wanna know what my reader base preferences are...
GIVE ME POWER STONES!!!!!