April 14th, 1967.
A riot floods the rain soaked streets of western Prague, in the Czech Republic. Makeshift signs, borders, and posters are highly visible, held by many angry and outraged citizens marching on the pebbled streets, in a singular, but large circle. They chant, with clear hatred in their combined voices echoing across, perhaps, the entire nation, as they stick to one lone phrase of which has guided their campaign throughout it's entirety. Now, it seems, the rare occurance of them actually having cause to use it is at hand, as they continue their strongwilled and determined circular march, shouting the phrase word for word at the top of their lungs:
"Tod Zu den Gemeinen Durch Mutation entstehende Variationen!"
Or, as it was roughly translated in the English language, in a more hateful spite...
"Death To Vile Mutants!"
This kind of politically incorrect action was not uncommon, in these times. Many nations... many countries, it seemed, were caught within a heated debate on the mutant populance of the world. While many tried to oppose such hostility presented towards the race as it grew from the scarce hundreds to the noticeable thousands, more often, the subject of mutantary gene evolution was looked upon with disdain and disgust. A human being's worst nightmare, in these times, was to become a mutant, even if they were supportive of the race itself... because they knew that, if they were to become one, they would face the same hostility one such mutant was facing today.
As the chants and taunts continued, ignoring the vastly understaffed security that stood infront of the secluded St. Petersburg Hospital Facility, many wondered what kind of disgusting acts were taking place beyond the facilities' walls. But they cared very little... all that they knew, from their own viewpoints, was that mutants were wicked and vile creatures, deserved to endure nothing short of extinction. And it was that cruelty and hatred that may have condemned them for the longhaul, as the first act of defense for the mutantary kind came in the most bizarre package, as the rioters immediately stopped, and noticed a strange sound coming from all around them.
That's when a car came crashing to their feet, seemingly tossed out of little more than thin air, and turned on it's hood, before smashing right infront of the rioters with a force so brutal that not one of them remained focused on their mission at hand. They simply stared in awe, as they soon realised that the rest of the cars within the area were, startlingly enough, rising on their very own and being turned towards the group. Many screaming, but mostly running, the rioters were cleared of the hospital's gates as more vehicles smashed into them, denting the bars, but leaving a considerable impression within the pavement they had once stood upon.
It seemed, after all of the years of mutant cruety and unjustly punishment, one of them had finally decided to fight back, for once.
"Erik, please! Control yourself!"
Erik Magnus Lehnsherr's eyes abruptly shut, as his teeth grit and his retinas glowed. His arms raised above his head, with the precision and difficult of a person lifting a vast amount of weight above their head. But he was not about to let that stop him from exerting his message towards the crowd outside, as he stood upon the balcony of one of the hospital's rooms, defiantly ignoring the words that were shouting behind him.
He was angry. Even beyond such a classification. He was embittered... perhaps the most enraged he had ever been in his life, though it was truly hard to imagine that. And though his responses to such anger were, in many's eyes, horrifying... Erik didn't care for a moment. He had every right to be in such a rageful, vengeful mood, after his grim discovery that morning. And now, the world had to pay, despite his usually ill-tempered and rational demenour.
"Erik, are you listening to me?!", His wheelchair bound associate, Charles Xavier, exclaimed, knowing full well what was happening.
"You have to desist this at once! This is becoming out of hand!"
"DESIST?!", Erik shouted back, turning his head as his arms continued to rise.
"I will do no such thing, Charles! These vermin must be taught the true scope of what kind of violence they are provoking each and every day!"
Erik was surprised at Charles' reaction. Ever the optimist, Charles had always been a firm believer that mutants and humans could infact live in harmony, and in peace, despite the numerous years spent facing quite the opposite. But even so, Erik could not even fathom how Charles could still retain that hopeful mindset... especially after seeing, too, what they had done to
her.
Instantly, Charles was thrown from his wheelchair, and onto the floor, as every metallic object within the room floated and spun into a circular, tornadic motion around the walls that blocked it from the outside world. With a low grunt, ignoring the pain of his predicament, Charles looked up, and called out to Erik once more, hoping to reach the grief stricken mind of his longtime friend.
"Erik, I know you're angry! As you have every plausible excuse to be!", Charles yelled, in as calm of a voice as possible, above the crunching sound of metallic alloy being mended together.
"But this hostility will solve nothing, do you hear me?! Nothing!"
Erik paused, lowering his shoulders in a calm manner, as the metallic objects within the room suddenly fell into a heap upon the floor, Charles' wheelchair included. He sighed to himself, retaining the last bit of humanity he had ever salvaged, before unknowingly parting with it in the same instance. Turning, Erik glared at Charles, still embittered, but not nearly as hostile as when he had faced the rioteers miles away from the hospital's walls.
"You're absolutely right.", Erik stated, standing over Charles as his friend gave a relieved sigh, getting back into his wheelchair.
Instantly, upon sitting, however, Charles was startled as the wheelchair was brought into the air, and closer to Erik, nearly shaking Charles out of it by the force of the magnetic pull. Erik stared into Xavier's eyes, vengefully peering into Charles' soul for the next words he would inevitably speak.
"...It will solve everything!"
Charles' eyes widened, as the wheelchair rised even higher, before being thrown across the room, and into a desk, breaking it upon impact. Charles was thrown from the force, back onto his lifeless legs, as Erik stepped forward, his glowed eyes deminishing into the hateful glare he had given Charles just moments earlier.
"Think of it, Charles... all of those years that you and I have spent to try and find common ground. To try and sever the ties that bound the mutant race away from those... animals. When in truth, the bounds should have been strengthened.", Erik began, before turning to Charles and facing him eye to eye once more.
"Such a waste of time! And how you could even begin to deny that, after what you have witnessed from them today, is entirely beyond my comprehension. Those creatures out there deserve no treaty... no peaceful conclusion. They deserve the very tortures they've inflicted upon our kind, time and time again!"
Charles remained silent, for a moment, before looking back into the eyes of the vengeful mutant with a combination of true compassion and concern.
"You cannot mean that,", He answered, grabbing the arms of his wheelchair behind him, and pulling himself to it's seat, greatly struggling to do so.
"There is no hope to be found within violence, especially the methods of which used on the mutants we've sworn to protect. We must remain strong, and differ ourselves from the opposition found within the rioters and politicians that wage a potential war on us. Surely, you haven't given up those ideals?"
"I will never give them up. You know that better than most,", Erik sharply replied.
"But protecting the mutant race and remaining strong against opposition never required us to act as if the humans are justified in their hatred. And if we continue to rely on inaction to win our battle, then I fear it came to that long ago."
"Maybe so,", Charles responded.
"But it also never required us to fight them."
"As it should have, old friend.", Erik argued.
"The days of peaceful bargain with the homosapiens that inflict their evils upon us are gone, Charles. Mark my words. Today has only strengthened that realisation. If we are to survive... they must not!"
Charles' eyes widened.
"What... are you saying, Erik?", Charles asked, startled in his words as he grasped just what had been said.
"What I'm saying, Charles... is that this war has only begun. And if you are not with me, then you are against me and every mutant I strive to save from Armegeddon.", Erik replied, turning away.
"Now I beg you, for perhaps the last time... Begone. I wish to remain alone with my daughter."
Charles stared at Erik, as moments of tense silence passed between them. It seemed that he could not reason with Erik, no matter his efforts. Turning around, wheeling his chair to the door, Charles silently prayed that this was merely a phase brought on by his anger, as he turned to say a final word to Erik.
"I shall respect your wishes, Erik. But should your words prove true... I cannot promise you that I, myself, will not take action aswell."
With a heavy sigh of remorse, Charles left the room, as Erik leaned against a nearby wall, weighing upon Xavier's final words. Had he just made an enemy? And if so, what would that mean for his mission itself? He did not know. All he knew was that, whenever he looked over to the far right of the room, he saw perhaps the strongest argument against any sort of humanary compassion: His daughter, in a hospital bed, unresponsive to the world around her. Beaten and bruised upon her face and forehead, she remained alive, but scarcely so, as Erik walked over to her.
Leaning down, He took her bandaged hand and kissed the top of it, lightly, looking at his daughter's face with tear filled eyes, as he knew he could do little to bring her from this state.
"My dear, sweet Wanda...", He whispered, brushing his index finger across her fragile, and evidently injured cheek.
"I assure you that those monsters will pay dearly for what they have done to you."
No one on Earth could have predicted it... not even Erik himself. But that day, admist the rain and carnage brought forth by a single mutant's revenge, mankind's worst oppressor would be born. And they would know his name far and wide, and equally fear it.
On this day, Magneto was born.
