Chapter 30
In the summer of '60, having "jumped" to Massachusetts, I congratulated Erik on defending his Ph.D. in field physics and magnetism.
My "little brother" had grown up, toughened up, and become a completely grown man now. He had finally become the spitting image of Michael Fassbender from my "past" world. Even his hair was dark (the bastard dyes it, embarrassed by the gray). He introduced me to his girlfriend...
When I finally realized two days later WHO she was, I almost fell off my chair. Mystique! How did he manage that...
I didn't nag him about it; ultimately, he has his own head on his shoulders. But most importantly, I memorized the scent of this multifaceted madam just in case—you never know...
Also, I was very interested in the circumstances of their meeting. And His Majesty Canon surfaced again. Raven (the name Mystique went by in human society) had lived in the estate of a young genius, biology professor Charles Xavier, before moving in with her boyfriend (Erik, respectively).
Dr. Lehnsherr and Professor Xavier, by the way, met earlier than Raven and Erik. Actually, Xavier introduced them.
And now Erik suggested I meet his friend Charles.
How could I refuse?
Erik, Raven, and I arrived at the gates of Xavier's mansion in Erik's car. He was driving, and we were passengers.
During the trip, out of curiosity, I glanced at the dashboard and its gauges. All the needles were resting squarely at "0". We weren't driving on the road; we were flying above it! Not high, not attracting attention, but still: what propelled us forward wasn't the car's engine, but the power of the driver himself, who was turning the steering wheel purely for show.
Hey, it's convenient! No spending on gas, no changing the suspension, no bothering with repairs... Savings!
Erik also opened the gates to the mansion grounds himself, without getting out of the car.
At the threshold, we were met by... the James McAvoy of "my" world. Charles looked so much like the actor who played him in the movie that I wanted to rub my eyes. Well, I've encountered this phenomenon of "resemblance" more than once in "this" life, so I wasn't deeply shocked, but still, but still...
We shook hands, went into the house, sat down over a cup of tea...
"Don't do it, Charles," I said gloomily to the host, suddenly, right in the middle of discussing Lehnsherr's dissertation.
"Don't do what, Victor?" Xavier asked, surprised, or pretending to be.
"Don't get into my head, Charles. It's dangerous. And primarily for you."
"Please forgive me, Victor," he immediately raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "It wasn't conscious. For me, it's almost like breathing; I can't always control it."
"Try. I wasn't joking about the danger," I nodded to him.
"Of course I'll try," he agreed easily. "And what kind of danger?"
"Besides the fact that you might get punched in the face?" Erik chuckled. "Keep in mind, Victor is a big specialist in that area!"
"That's not the main thing," I continued just as gloomily, not supporting my "little brother's" joke. "I've met two on my path who tried to get into my head. One was a mage. The second, a telepath."
"A mage? Is magic real?" Charles was surprised.
"As real as you and me and this tea on the table," I confirmed. "And mages are very dangerous opponents."
"Well, be that as it may," Xavier replied, but it was clear he didn't really believe my words. "And what about those two?"
"They got in. Went insane. The mage lived for five minutes after that. The telepath for twenty-four," I answered calmly.
"And what kind of defense is in your head, Victor? I only see an iron wall with water falling over it. And a gate in it," Charles asked. Apparently, my words about danger went in one ear and out the other.
"It's not my defense. It's a defense FROM me. What's dangerous isn't the wall and the door, but what's hiding BEHIND it," I tried to get through to him once more.
"Will you show me?" he even leaned slightly toward me. Apparently, my warnings had the exact opposite effect to what I had intended. They ignited CURIOSITY. And this dead man walking wouldn't rest now until he satisfied it. I sighed heavily.
"Be very careful, Charles. If I see that you can't handle it, I will kill you instantly. Otherwise, with your power, you'll kill half the country."
"Alright, Victor, I will be very careful," Xavier smiled.
"Then 'approach' the door and 'crack open the little window'. Just a tiny bit, and quietly," I instructed, preparing to fight a bout of my own rage.
And the Beast did not disappoint me. As soon as Xavier touched my mind—and I felt that action very clearly—a crushing wave of the most savage rage instantly rose from the depths of my soul. Suffocating, covering my eyes with a bloody haze, making me grind my fangs and clench my fists, crushing the armrests of the chair into splinters...
I literally wanted to tear the insolent bastard who dared to try and get into my head into tiny pieces. The bastard and everyone around.
Running on the absolute last fumes of self-control, I stood up and ran out of the house into the yard. There I fell on the bank of the pond and dunked my head into it. For a moment, it got a little easier...
Fifteen minutes later, I returned to the house. I wouldn't say the Beast had calmed down. No. But now I could hold it back. Not throw myself at those around me with claws and fangs bared.
Charles sat in his chair, deathly pale. His slender fingers were interlaced, elbows on the tabletop.
"F-f-forgive me, Victor," he addressed me, stumbling slightly on the first sound (his lips were trembling). "I s-should have believed you right away..."
"What exactly happened?" Erik decided to intervene.
"Remember '43?" I turned to him. Erik nodded.
"And what's the last thing you remember from the day when..."
"When we were presumed dead?" he finished for me, showing me the level of his trust in Xavier.
"Yes," I nodded.
"We were attacked. We took losses, but we were holding out, then our own people started shooting the guards in the back, first one, then another... Then everyone. I woke up in your arms in the forest," he answered my question.
"There was a telepath there. And he took control of you. Completely. You slaughtered all our guards, those who were still alive. Then you were injected with a tranquilizer and 'packaged' for transport. And then I crawled out from under a tank, and the telepath immediately got into my head."
"And?"
"Did you see the photos from the battle site? Later, in the archives?" Erik nodded.
"Well, 'Katyushas' don't leave behind lava, craters, and rifts in the earth," I finished meaningfully.
"Then who..." Erik stumbled. "Did they do it themselves?!! The telepath went rabid, took control of his own people, and they went rabid too? Is that what happened?!" he developed the thought that came to him. I confirmed the correctness of his reasoning with a nod.
"So we just now...? If Charles hadn't managed...?" it finally dawned on him.
"Not me," Xavier shook his head. "Victor managed. He didn't let... THAT... out."
"And what did you manage to see?" I asked with interest.
"I couldn't describe it," Xavier shook his head. "Words wouldn't be enough. But I wouldn't want to see that again... Not for anything!" The conversation that day somehow withered on its own. Everyone was under the impression of their own thoughts.
The next meeting took place only two days later. In the same place. But a tall, large guy with glasses named Hank McCoy had been added to the previous group.
Charles shared his thoughts about the future of humans and mutants, talked about the "X-gene," about the problems of gifted youth in society... Erik argued with him on some points, Hank passionately supported Charles, Raven stayed quiet and huddled close to Erik.
"I think all of this is an empty dream. A dangerous empty dream," I finally snapped.
"Dangerous? Why?" Charles reacted immediately.
"From experience. I am almost two hundred years old. Believe me—I have experience."
"But still?"
"Peace between species is impossible. Especially if one of the species is humans."
"But why?!"
"Because war is in human nature. They always fight. They cannot *not* fight. And what you are proposing is to show them the 'face of the enemy'."
"But I want, on the contrary, to show them a friend in mutants!" Xavier exclaimed expressively.
"Humans gladly go to war with friends, too."
"But what do you propose? Hiding?"
"Living," I shrugged. "As long as they don't know about us, they don't hate us. Gathering mutant children in special schools where they will study with their own kind, taught by their own kind..."
"You're literally reading my mind!" Xavier laughed joyfully. "That is exactly the kind of school I want to create! And use it as an example to show that mutants are not a threat!"
"Creating it is a good thing. Showing it is a bad thing."
"But what do you propose?"
"After school, create a company where mutants could work. Don't make it public. Just give them the opportunity to live and work like normal people. They don't need an example; they need an opportunity."
"Listen to him, Charles," Erik said. "He makes sense. To humans, mutants with their abilities have always been and will always be just weapons. And they will treat them accordingly. If a weapon cannot be controlled, it must be destroyed. I know this from personal experience. I told you about the War and my life. And I wasn't happy when I openly used my powers and was respected and called a hero, hung with medals, but when I started doing what I loved, even if I had to hide my abilities from everyone. Believe me, Charles, mutants don't need the struggle you are dooming them to, and you *are* dooming them to a struggle: for equal rights, for respect, for freedom, for not being seen as a threat... They need a normal life. A normal life in a society of their own kind, where they can earn respect, be useful, and find friends, love..."
"Don't start a war, Charles. Don't advertise the existence of mutants," I added.
"But they already know about us! The authorities and intelligence agencies know about us!"
"They know about vampires, werewolves, and mages, too. So what? War is happening, of course, but not nearly on the scale it would if they started openly declaring themselves and demanding equal rights," I shrugged.
"Vampires? Werewolves?" Xavier looked at me in astonishment.
"Believe him, Charles, I've seen them myself. And killed them during the war. So these aren't fairy tales at all. You can look into my head and see for yourself if you doubt it," Erik said. Now it was my turn to look at my "little brother" with extreme surprise. I guessed that Xavier was rummaging around in his head, but that Erik himself encouraged it, I hadn't even thought. I couldn't have imagined such a thing in my worst nightmare.
"Be that as it may," Charles darkened, apparently having "looked." "But how do they coexist with humans in that case?"
"In their own isolated communities, hidden from humans. Only a few individuals make contact and cooperate. But even they do not speak for their entire community, only for themselves."
"Somehow all this is..."
"Alright, you are philosophers, ideologists, leaders, Professors, and Doctors. You have big heads, so you figure it out. I am a practitioner. I've spoken my piece, if you don't like it—fuck off, do whatever you want, but don't complain later that you weren't warned."
"Weren't warned about what?" Erik grew alert.
"That if an attempt is made to publicize the existence of mutants, I personally will kill the one who does it," I said in all seriousness. "And I know how to kill, you know that," I nodded to my "little brother" and got up from the table. I gestured a goodbye to those present and left the house.
A conversation about nothing. I don't like those. Pouring from empty to void... Less talk, more action. I hope Erik won't be offended. I wouldn't want that. He's practically family, after all.
Walking about eight hundred meters away from the mansion, I "jumped" to Japan.
* * *
"Is he serious, Erik?" Xavier grew anxious, watching Victor Creed's retreating back.
"Yes. Victor doesn't like to talk much. He considers himself inarticulate, although, to me, he speaks fine; I know a lot of people who do it much worse than him, while blabbering non-stop."
"You mean he seriously promised to kill us?"
"I would take that promise seriously. He really does know how to kill. What's more, he finds his victim anywhere. No matter where they hide."
"But..."
"No 'buts', Charles. You were warned: publicize the existence of mutants—you die."
"And you?"
"And I won't go against my brother. Maybe not by blood, but he is my brother. And if my brother tells me—don't do that, I won't do that. He proved his competence to me a very long time ago. I don't need additional confirmations. And let's end it there," Erik said, rising from his chair. Raven stood up along with him.
* * *