For a moment, no one moved.
Wind curled down the alley like it knew something was about to break. The sky, swollen with cloud, held its breath.
Magneto stood like a statue, robes unmoving. Toad shifted from foot to foot, tongue twitching between his teeth. Pyro ignited a spark in his palm just to feel the heat. Frenzy flexed her knuckles once, sharp like hammer blows.
Across the divide, Logan adjusted his stance. "Was hoping for a quiet night."
Scott didn't look at him. "You're always hoping for that."
Davos had her hands loose at her sides, her gaze fixed on Eli.
But Eli wasn't looking at her.
He was staring at Magneto, a strange calm flickering across his face. Like a man waiting for a storm he could finally punch.
Magneto broke the silence.
"You've made your choice, then?"
"I'm still here," Eli replied.
"You're siding with weakness."
Logan snorted. "Says the man hiding behind three muscle-heads and a stolen ideology."
Magneto turned his head slightly. "Logan. I see Charles still sends hounds instead of extending a hand."
"Hound bites harder than a hand ever will," Logan said, rolling his shoulders. "Wanna test that theory?"
Scott stepped forward half a pace. "Back off, Magneto. The kid isn't yours."
"He isn't yours either."
Magneto's eyes locked on Eli.
"You think they'll let you be who you are? No. They'll teach you to be safe . To sit still. Smile nice. Hide what you are behind politics and kindness and rules."
"I'll take rules over collars," Eli said.
Toad bared his teeth. "You don't even know what you are!"
Eli smiled — just a little. "Neither do you."
Magneto raised a hand.
The dumpster at Eli's back ripped free from the wall and hurled forward — fast, twisting in the air.
Eli's knees bent.
But he didn't dodge.
He moved through it.
One foot drove down, the other pivoted, and his shoulder crashed into the metal with a wet clang. The dumpster buckled around him like paper, and he shot forward with the momentum, fists up.
"Now!" Scott shouted.
And the alley became a warzone.
—-----------------------------------------------------
Logan moved like a bullet — claws out, feet digging into gravel as he lunged at Frenzy. She met him head-on, fist against adamantium, sparks flying with every clash.
Davos darted sideways, intercepting Pyro before his fire could spread. Her movements were fast, adaptive, always just ahead of the flame.
Scott kept high ground — climbed a crate stack and fired precision blasts down at Toad, who jumped and twisted through the air, tongue snapping like a whip.
And Eli—
Eli didn't aim.
He reacted .
One of Pyro's flicks came too close — Eli turned with the blow, let it glance off his shoulder, and closed the gap with a brutal elbow to Pyro's jaw.
The crack echoed like a branch snapping.
Pyro stumbled.
Eli didn't wait.
He spun low, kicked out the mutant's leg, and brought a fist down across his ribs. Pyro screamed as flame exploded from his side — too close — burning Eli's jacket and searing his flank.
But Eli didn't stop.
He grinned .
Somewhere deep inside, a part of him sang with freedom.
Frenzy threw Logan into the side of the building with enough force to crater brick. He got up, bleeding from the shoulder.
"Okay," he growled. "That actually hurt."
She came again. This time, Logan ducked, slashed across her side. Sparks flew. She grimaced.
"You heal fast," she said. "Let's see how long that keeps you upright."
Logan grinned. "Lady, you don't want to find out."
Scott knocked Toad off a ledge with a controlled blast.
Toad landed, rolled, hissed, and leapt back up. His tongue lashed for Scott's visor — Davos intercepted mid-air, slamming Toad into the wall with a grunt.
"You're not even the worst I've seen today," she snapped.
Toad groaned, stunned.
Magneto hadn't moved.
He watched as Eli turned toward him.
Magneto lifted a hand.
The air shifted. Every scrap of metal in the alley — nails, screws, bent rebar, old pipe fragments — rose at once, drawn upward as if gravity had reversed. They spun around him in widening arcs, faster and faster, until the space pulsed with lethal motion.
Then he sent them flying.
Scott's voice cut through the chaos. "DOWN!"
The world exploded into shrapnel. Screaming metal tore through the air like a hurricane made of blades.
Logan threw himself over Davos, claws out, back arched against the storm. Scott fired upward, a wide-beam optic blast detonating part of the cloud in mid-air.
But Eli?
He didn't stop. He didn't duck. He charged straight through.
Scrap sliced his forearms. A wire hook caught his cheek and opened a red line beneath his eye. A rusted spike buried itself in his thigh with a dull, wet punch.
Still, he kept going.
He didn't hear the shriek of the wind or feel the metal biting his flesh. All that reached him was rhythm — the cadence of his steps, the beat of his heart, the throb in his fists. A pulse that lived in his chest and told him, with startling clarity, this is right.
He was alive.
He reached Magneto.
And threw a punch, and it stopped inches from his face.
Eli's punch hung frozen in the air, caught by a force that suffered no resistance and no explanation. His arm quivered. His shoulder flared with pain, tendons straining against a power that held him like a statue.
Magneto didn't flinch.
He stared at Eli, voice low and measured. "You want this? This path? Blood and bone and wasted purpose?"
Eli's jaw locked.
"You think you get to define my purpose?"
Magneto raised his other hand.
Without warning, the fabric of Eli's hoodie split apart. Thin metal wires, scavenged from the debris around them, wove together like living thread. They coiled around his chest and shoulders in tight, constricting lines, then pulled.
The grip snapped him off his feet, and Eli slammed into the wall.
Hard.
Eli slumped against the wall, blood trailing from his mouth in slow drips. His breath came rough, edged with pain. Each inhale rattled.
Magneto approached, his steps silent over the scattered debris.
"You were meant for more than alleys."
"You talk a lot," Eli muttered, each word dragged out between sharp winces.
Magneto raised a hand once more — fingers poised to command.
And then something shifted. and nothing moved anymore.
The metal around Magneto held still.
At the mouth of the alley, Xavier rolled into view. His chair came to a stop at the edge of the chaos, flanked by Jean, Rogue, and Hank. Jean's eyes glowed faintly. Rogue stood poised, one glove already stripped. Hank's gaze was unreadable behind his glasses, but his muscles were tense beneath the coat.
"Enough," Xavier said, voice low but weighted like an anchor dropped into deep water.
Magneto turned his head slightly. "Charles."
"You've made your offer."
"He refused without knowing what he is."
Xavier's gaze narrowed. "And you do?"
A faint smile curved Magneto's lips. "He is war made flesh. You would dull him. I would sharpen him."
Xavier turned toward Eli — bruised, bloodied, still upright on one knee, breathing through clenched teeth.
"You would use him," Xavier said.
Eli let out a sharp cough. "I'm still here."
Magneto stepped back. His voice dropped to something almost theatrical.
"So choose, boy. Them. Or me."
Eli rose.
Barely.
His breath hitched, his legs trembling beneath him. His body ached, blood slicking the torn lines of his shirt. But he found his footing long enough for one motion.
He stepped toward Xavier.
Just one step.
Then collapsed.
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