April 12, 2014
Today, it seemed, was proving to be one of the more exhausting days for one Steve Rogers, Captain America.
For one, his face was planted in dirt that was remarkably different from the concrete he'd been standing, and fighting, on only a few minutes ago. The impact of hitting said dirt had scrambled things a bit. How did he get here again?
'The H.Y.D.R.A portal. That's right.'
They'd been at a H.Y.D.R.A base in the Canadian Rockies. A weapons manufacturing facility. Not that the Avengers would let that be the case for much longer. Things went as they usually had when they got to work.
Then…
Steve pulled himself to his feet, scanning the area around him. A lot of forest, a mix of pine and deciduous trees. And not a star-spangled shield in sight. Did it…
'The X-Men got involved,' Steve remembered, training from the war kicking in as he started trying to find a slope of some kind, maybe a clearing. Somewhere where he could start looking for landmarks.
He wasn't up to date on mutant affairs, he mused as he found a slight slope and started walking, but usually the X-Men were allies, or at least neutral. Their world, their struggles, were nominally theirs, and they'd never asked for any assistance before. The mutants that showed up after them were decidedly neither of those things, and made that clear with one ripping his shield from his hands with an invisible force.
Besides the usual sounds of nature at night, chirping and buzzing and humming into the cool air, there was nothing around him. No sign of the H.Y.D.R.A base commander's desperate ploy to escape. He'd been grappling with one of whom the X-Men had called the Brotherhood before the portal consumed them both. Where had he gone?
A crack and rustle, behind and to his left. Quiet but noticeable. He turned, and saw the crimson helm and cape that were all too close to him. How hadn't he noticed the man earlier?
A hand darted out, seemingly trying to grip Steve as he fell into a ready stance. Steve steeled himself for this man's attack, started planning move and counter-move, and…
Nothing happened. Steve watched for a moment as the face behind the helm, nearly cloaked in shadow, strained slightly, then let his arm fall to his side with a quiet sigh. "Damn," the man, his voice somewhat weathered and imperious, said. "What have you done, human?"
"Me?" Steve asked. "Nothing. H.Y.D.R.A opened a portal to… wherever we are. I should have noticed you earlier than this."
"I may be used to hovering," the man replied curtly as he approached, "but I can use stealth easily enough."
He looked around, a frown evident. "This place dampens my powers, at least somewhat. I'll need to find the source of it and destroy it."
"We'll need to find out where we are first," Steve replied. "I think I can see a ridge through the treeline."
"We?" the man asked archly. "As I recall, we were locked in battle just a few moments before. What makes you so certain I would want to work with you?"
"Because going it alone, especially in the state we're in, is going to make it that much harder to figure out what's going on," Steve replied. "Besides, you're dangerous, more dangerous than I am, I think. So I'd rather keep an eye on you instead of having you surprise me."
The man was silent for long moments, seemingly mulling over Steve's reasoning. "Very well," he finally said. "Your reasoning is sound. Until we get out of here, I will not try to harm you."
Steve nodded once, then returned to walking up the slope. "Good. We shouldn't waste any more time then."
"Who are you?" the man asked as he followed. "Clearly, you have some grasp of history, having taken up the mantle of Captain America."
Steve blinked as he looked back at the man. "You… don't know. I'm Steve Rogers. The… well, the original Captain."
"Impossible," the man said. "That man died in 1944, diverting a H.Y.D.R.A bomber into the waters of the Arctic."
"That's part of how I got here," Steve replied with a quiet sigh. "The water froze me, and I went into cryogenic stasis. I only got thawed out a little over 6 years ago. Even with this long in… well, I guess I'll call it 'the modern day', there are still things I'm getting used to."
It was silent for long moments. "I see," the man said quietly.
"Who are you?" Steve asked. "I can't say I've ever met you before today."
"I am Magneto," the man replied. "Head of the Brotherhood of Mutants. I protect mutant-kind from those who would seek to destroy them, despite the best efforts of the X-Men."
"Is that your given name?" Steve asked.
Again, silence for a moment. "Erik," Magneto said softly. "My name is Erik."
"Wish we could have met under better circumstances, Erik," Steve said. "Right now, though, I'll take working with you over trying to punch you in the face."
They made it, after long hours that were largely silent, to the top of the ridge, looking out over the large, forested area. In the distance, about 10 or 15 miles to their northeast, there were lights, more than the few scattered across the forest that flickered like warm stars in a verdant sky. A town, even if it was the only one in the area. The entire forest was framed by mountains, peaked with white snowcaps.
"Looks like we have somewhere to go," Steve said, looking down at his armored, and all too noticeable, suit. "We'll get going in a minute or two."
Erik looked at him with no small amount of incredulity as Steve began to dress down. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"This uniform is going to paint a target on my back," Steve said as he revealed a shirt and jeans beneath the armor. "As useful as armor can be, stealth is probably going to be the smarter choice at the moment. For both of us."
Erik regarded Steve as he finished taking his armor off. "The helmet is not simply ostentation," he said. "I have little reason to take it off."
"That's your choice," Steve said with a shrug. "The cape could at least come off, become a rucksack."
Erik sighed as he unclipped his purple cape, the crimson and purple armor coming off to reveal a gray cloth suit that had a white undershirt. "We'll need to find different clothing for myself," he remarked. "This stands out enough to make us a target as is."
"We'll see what we can do," Steve said. He was quiet for a moment, looking at the helmet that Erik still wore. "What does the helmet do?"
"It shields me from psionic powers, much to Charles' chagrin," Erik replied. "Though, with the possibility of this place dampening such abilities… perhaps it may well be safe to not wear it."
His hands reached to his helm, holding it as he hesitated for a moment before lifting it off. It revealed a weathered rectangular face, brown hair fading into salt and pepper as Erik regarded the helmet with intense pale blue eyes. Eyes that closed as he set the helmet on top of the armor in the cape, tying it quickly and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Alright, then," Erik said, "Let's go."
. . .
They made their way into the forest again, angling towards the town as the sun began to paint the forest in warmer tones.
"So," Steve said after a long period of silence, "what is the world of mutants like? I'm largely out of the loop there. Have been since the '40s."
Erik looked at Steve with a flinted gaze. "Hard," Erik said simply. "I see no reason to try and explain to the high and mighty American hero what hardship looks like."
Steve blinked. "How much do you know about my story?"
"That a scientist plucked a soldier from the ranks of the American army, and experimented on them until they found their perfect supersoldier," Erik replied. "I'm sure the American propaganda we heard exaggerated things, but that is the simple truth."
Steve paused in place, looking at Erik for a moment. "You didn't hear the full story, then," he said. "Once we know where we are and that we can take a minute, I think a full telling's in order. What about you? Where do you come from?"
Erik was silent on the matter, Steve waiting patiently for minutes as the silence stretched on.
"I suppose you would at least understand the basics," Erik finally said. "I was born in Poland in 1929."
"'29…" Steve mused, a slight smile coming to his face. "I'll be damned. I'm older than you. I was born in '18."
The smile disappeared as Steve connected the dots. "Were you…"
"Auschwitz-Birkenau," Erik said, his voice hard. "My parents and I were Jews. We were herded there in 1942. Humanity showed its true colors to me then as they slew us, ground us to dust, for being lesser. They will do the same to mutants unless I and my cohort stop them."
It was silent again, the weight of what was behind Erik's words more than enough.
"I saw Dachau, before I went into the ice, during a mission to stop H.Y.D.R.A experiments that it was supplying," Steve said quietly. "You're right. The worst of humanity was there to see, all laid out in industrial order."
"Then you know what lies in store for us," Erik said. "You know the means by which they will destroy us. I'm sure you remember the Sentinels."
"The Sentinels…" Steve said. "Yes. I do remember them. Stark technology, used and twisted by the US government. They intended to use it to police rogue supers."
"Of course, you would see it as such," Erik replied, his lips twisted into a sneer. "The Sentinels were made to seek out, detain, and eliminate mutants. It is as simple as that."
"That didn't make me protest it any less," Steve said pointedly. "Knowing that now, it makes me appreciate all the more that we went up against the government about that."
"And here I thought you would be in lockstep with the government that created you," Erik said somewhat acerbically. "Is that not one of your defining traits? Loyalty to your country?"
Steve stopped and turned, Erik stopping short in front of Steve's face.
"If there's one thing you should know," Steve said, his voice hard, "it's that my loyalty is to people. Good people. The world may not be as black and white as either of us wishes it was, but it's up to us to make it a better place, regardless of who stands in the way. I didn't fight for you or your people because I didn't know. Now I do. And if your people need someone to help in their fight, then I'll be there."
They stood silently, silently sizing each other up. Erik, at last, sighed quietly. "Admirable words, Captain," he said, his voice equally quiet. "But as we both know, you're only human."
With that, Erik walked past Steve. After a moment, Steve turned and followed after.
. . .
Their walk finally had them emerge onto a road, well-paved and stretching out of sight either way.
"Interesting," Steve said. "We're somewhere that's well-developed, at least."
"That hardly narrows down our location, however," Erik said pointedly. "Besides, our destination lies beyond this place."
"Maybe so," Steve replied. "But…"
He paused, his head clocking slightly to one side. "Do you hear that?"
Erik frowned, listening as well. Steve was sharp. There was a thrum in the distance. The dull roar of…
Four silver blurs landed around them, cracking the pavement and unfurling into slim, lithe humanoid robots that had accents of a dull green.
"Damn," Steve muttered. "Just what we needed."
Erik settled into a defensive stance alongside Steve. "They can be overcome, of that I'm sure. Whether we are capable of such is another matter entirely."
Steve responded by darting towards one of the machines, aiming for an arm lock that could allow him to rip off the limb. The bot twisted out of the way, catching Steve by surprise. His senses were still somewhat scrambled: the punch that sent him to the pavement should have been one he'd caught.
Even still, he rolled out of the way of the follow-up stomp that would have crushed his head, scrambling to his feet as he grabbed hold of the leg and pulled. Hard.
The leg took more effort than Steve was expecting, but it did come free with a crackling crunch. It wasn't much of a weapon, and it wasn't his shield. But it would work for now.
The de-limbed robot still had some measure of dexterity and control, shifting its balance to one leg as blades slid out of its wrists. The jointed club that Steve wielded batted away one of the blades, the other overshooting its mark as Steve ducked under it, darting behind the robot's back. In a flash, he wrapped the leg around the bot's head, planted his foot on the back of the bot, and pushed. With a crunch, the head separated from its shoulders.
Turning his attention away from the falling body, he found that another of the bots was closing in on him. The leg that Steve wielded, swinging around to try and smack it, was sliced at the knee by the bot's blade.
In a flash of insight, Steve threw the leg at the charging bot, the attack staggering the bot just long enough to allow him to retrieve his next weapon; the sword arm of the fallen robot.
Pulling it free, he gripped the arm at the wrist, dueling with the robot for a moment before he managed to slice off one of the bot's blades at the wrist. It countered by beginning a flurry of attacks that Steve tried his best to defend against, but the blade could only do so much, nicking and scratching arms, legs, chest. He needed an opening. He needed…
There! Steve took a chance as the bot wound up for a chop from on high, stepping forward into a lunging stab that buried the blade deep into the robot's chest. It froze, sparking and starting to smoke, then slumped to the ground.
Steve took a deep breath, pulling the blade from the robot's chest… and caught in the corner of his eye the sight of the third one charging towards him. Steve began to turn, raising the blade once again…
And saw a hand grip the back of the skull-like head, the robot stopping and beginning to spasm for a moment before it went limp, revealing Erik behind it as it hit the ground. Erik, in turn, was somewhat beaten up, but the robot he'd first engaged had its blade shoved into its chest.
"It seems my powers do still work at close range," Erik said with heaving breaths. "Though that took about as much effort as my… usual displays of power."
"Magnetism, I presume?" Steve asked as he tossed the arm aside.
"Electromagnetism," Erik corrected. "But it's of little matter. Do you recognize these automatons?"
Steve looked down at the green and silver robots, and their distinctive faces. "It's been a while since I tangled with these, but you don't forget a sight like this. These are Doombots."
"Ah," Erik said. "Delightful. We find ourselves in Latveria."
He looked coolly at Steve. "I don't suppose you know the Balkan Romani language?"
Steve frowned slightly. "No, I don't."
"A shame," Erik replied. Steve noticed his gaze grow somewhat distant. "It's a beautiful language."
"How did you learn it?"
Erik blinked back to focus on Steve. "It's complicated," he replied, his voice soft but curt. "Let's not linger. I doubt these Doombots lack a tracking device of some sort."
"Sounds about right to me," Steve replied, following after the man as they got off the road and back into the forest.
Erik, however, began to change his course from their original trek towards the town after more than a few minutes. "Erik?" Steve said as he turned to follow.
"I'm going to get us some food," Erik replied as he set the rucksack down. "There's a small village that we're about to pass nearby. Not many people, but you'd probably be surprised at the power of small-town hospitality. Stay here. You'll just stick out like a sore thumb."
"And how can I be sure you won't run off?" Steve asked, still coming to a stop where he was.
"Because as effective as my powers might still be, you're my only useful bodyguard here," Erik replied. "Even with my skillset, I can only go so far without my powers."
With that, he disappeared into the treeline, Steve sighing as he found a fallen tree to sit down on as he waited. He felt tiredness starting to edge into the corners of his consciousness, his eyelids starting to droop slightly before he caught the action. Falling asleep in the middle of the day could be dangerous. Especially if they were actively being hunted now.
He spent the time Erik was away weighing his options. If there was a way that Doom was trying to tamper with particular powers, there was a good chance he was also jamming any comms out. There likely weren't any Stark satellites overhead. Likely, though, there were Latverian satellites, and based on what frankly felt like the little he'd learned about how modern technology worked, any attempt to contact the rest of the Avengers would put any efforts into tracking them on Easy Street.
But staying with Erik, as good of a bet as it sounded at the moment they'd gotten here, was something he was starting to wonder about. He talked about the well-being of mutants, and he'd proven good in a fight even stripped of much of his power. But that didn't shake the fact that, 6 hours ago, he was trying to kill him, his team, and the X-Men. And the words he spoke were familiar ones. Terribly familiar.
Finally, though, Steve heard a rustle in the bushes, looking up to see Erik carrying a basket with a towel over it, two canteens slung over his shoulder.
"Are you surprised I didn't abandon you?" Erik said as he took one of the canteens off his shoulder and handed it to Steve.
"Not really," Steve said with a shrug. "I just hope you didn't steal those."
"Please," Erik said with a sigh, revealing a collection of breads, hard meats, and cheeses. "I may be many things, but I am not a petty thief."
"So what was the cover story, then?"
"As far as the woman I talked to is aware, you and I are two workers who were getting out into the country for some camping," Erik said as they dug into their meal. "An unfortunate accident led to us losing our supplies. You stayed back at camp to keep an eye on it and sent the more persuasive fellow to go get some food to get us at least home, if not through a day of camping."
"The more persuasive fellow," Steve repeated somewhat sardonically.
"I'd like to see you try to persuade a Latverian family into gathering something for us to eat."
"We'd be in real trouble, then."
Erik scoffed softly, and they took their meal in relative silence for a little while afterward.
Erik regarded Steve intently as they finished, putting what remained next to a tree. "As I recall," he said, "you had a story to tell."
"How about we trade?" Steve replied. "You get to know the rest of my story, who I really am."
"And in return?"
"You tell me what you want to do to humanity if you were in charge."
Erik's expression visibly cooled. "That is remarkably specific," he said softly.
"Call it a hunch. It's what you give if you want my story," Steve said. "Now, are you interested enough, or do we keep walking?"
It was silent between them for long moments. "I cannot guarantee you will find what I have to say… palatable," Erik replied.
"Doesn't make it any less important for me to hear it," Steve said.
Erik silently nodded. Steve took that as his queue.
"I grew up in New York City," he began. "It took a lot of effort for my mother to take care of me. I had what felt like every condition doctors could think of. Asthma, scoliosis, ulcers, anemia, heart troubles… it was a miracle I made it to 18 when she died of tuberculosis. Being 18 didn't make me any less of an easy target, though. If my body didn't kill me… it wouldn't have surprised me if one of the bullies who picked on me left my body in an alleyway."
Erik frowned. "Impossible." he nearly whispered.
"Believe it," Steve replied. "I couldn't have enlisted if I tried. And I tried. A lot. Used every trick I could think of to sign up. But I wasn't hard to see through."
"Why?" Erik asked incredulously. "Did you really have some sort of death wish?"
"I wanted to enlist because people needed help in Europe," Steve said simply. "That was the end of it. I didn't even really want to kill Nazis that much. People were suffering under the rule of other people abusing power and peddling lies. I couldn't stand that."
Erik was silent for long moments, regarding Steve with a thoughtful look. "And so you weaseled your way into the American super soldier program."
Steve chuckled. "Lucked into it, more like. Doctor Erskine, the head of the program, was visiting the 5th recruiting office I was in under a different name. He pulled me aside and asked me what I was trying to do. I told him the truth. And he took a shine to me."
Erik sighed quietly. "Where is your anger? Your rage? You have every right to it, with how you were treated before your experimentation. Why simply let your abusers get away with their crimes?"
"For one, they didn't always get away with it," Steve said with a forlorn smile. "I had a friend, Bucky, who was a lot healthier than me. He picked up the slack when I couldn't."
The smile faded. "But I also came to a realization when I was young."
Erik was silent as he waited a moment for Steve's explanation.
"Anger wasn't just exhausting like it is for normal people," Steve said, "that adrenaline high crashing down after too long being mad. For me, anger hurt. On bad enough days, it sent me to the floor, then into bed for a week. Anger got me exactly nowhere. So I learned to live without it. Learned what drove anger, how hate worked, so I could avoid it. Granted, we're talking about an education on mental health and the mind in the '40s. It wasn't perfect, by any means, and that's after studying advances in it for only a few days. But I could see the reasoning. I could put fear and hate away even after it stopped hurting. I could just do what needed to be done so that I could help people."
Erik regarded Steve with no small amount of amazement. That much, Steve had expected. What came after managed to catch Steve by surprise, however; an expression of… longing.
"Then you are a far better man than I have ever been," Erik said quietly.
It was silent again for a moment, then another. Steve finally sighed. "Alright. That's my part spoken for. So… what would you do if you ruled the world?"
Erik's expression hardened in an instant. "I would ensure that no mutant faces persecution from humanity ever again. By any means possible."
Steve's expression darkened. "I've heard words like those before."
"Please," Erik spat, "spare me your accusations. Where Hitler and the Nazis strove for a flawed, human ideal to excuse their crimes, mutant-kind is, on a regular basis, more powerful than any baseline human. You may have put away fear and hatred, but humanity is fearful of what it doesn't understand, what it can't control. And it will never understand mutants. It gave up on trying on a beach in Cuba. Charles and his X-Men persist in their deluded belief that there can be a peaceful co-existence, but the world continues to prove him wrong. Whether it is the governments of the world in creating things like the Sentinels or popular movements like No More Mutants, homo sapiens will have one uniting trait; fear and hatred."
Steve was silent for a moment. "I saw the worst of humanity on display at Dachau," he finally said.
As Erik blinked in surprise, his expression of twisted anger slackening, Steve continued. "But the reason we found out that there were experiments going on nearby in the first place was a young man. His name was Achim. He'd escaped from the camp with the help of his friends, trekked to our base through German territory into occupied France where we got in contact with him. He begged us to hurry. People, his friends and family, were suffering in silence because of him, keeping quiet about where he might have gone off to. They risked everything so that we could stop their friends and family from disappearing, even their own lives. We went and took care of the H.Y.D.R.A facility, and Achim had to wait another year until what remained of his family was freed. I had men I served with in the same position, hoping against all odds that their grandparents, cousins, or uncles would make it out alive. I wept with them. I would have grieved with them."
It was silent for long, almost agonizing moments. "I admire the strength Achim and his community showed. I aspire to it every day. You're right. The worst of humanity, its fear and greed and hate, were in full force in those camps. The sight I saw of Dachau, even from a distance, haunts me now and forever. But I think you missed that the best parts of humanity were in there too. The people who weathered the cruelest abuses and still gave their share to those in greater need. Who offered acts of quiet defiance because the mere act of survival was a victory every single day. I hope that means something to you."
The tension that was now between them could have been molded into a blade for Erik to use before Steve sighed and stood. "That town shouldn't be that much farther. Let's get going and find a route to Doom's location. We can sort this out with him. One way or another."
"Agreed," Erik said as he stood. "Let's not waste any more time on the past."
