Magneto and Charles—maybe it was sympathy between kindred hearts, maybe it was the bond from living together in youth. But people grow up, ideals split, and the brothers found themselves on opposite sides.
They had barely buckled in when the air between them turned… delicate.
"Hey, Charles. After we bring Raven back, are we really going to keep fighting?" Magneto's lip curled with open scorn.
"Fighting? Erik, I hoped you'd had time to think while you were locked away. Fighting settles nothing. We should be seeking a way to coexist," Professor X said, helpless.
Saitama nodded along. If the goal was the same, why swing fists? Seek common ground, reserve differences—easy.
That was when Charles pivoted, his voice turning cool. "So it's time you gave up your childish fantasy. Seizing rights by force only ends in unending pain."
"And you?" Magneto's roar cut him off. "What did you accomplish while I was caged?"
"At least I didn't blacken the name of mutants," Charles shot back, faintly smiling.
Saitama's mouth twitched. Great—were they going to throw down inside a plane?
"Uh, you two—" he tried.
"Fine. I gave us a bad name," Magneto lowered his head… then spat out several names: "Azazel, Emma Frost, Nightcrawler… do you remember them?"
Charles froze. They were early comrades—dear friends. Magneto's roar hammered on: "They're dead! Dead! Why? Because of humans! And you want me to preach virtue to humans now? If not for them, would we have lost so many brothers? Charles—think!"
As his shout peaked, the fuselage groaned. Metal skin rippled and dented like a sea under storm.
Magnetism raged through the frame.
At the controls, Beast went pale. "Erik! Erik!"
Saitama cinched his seat belt tight. He didn't mind Tiger-level, Dragon-level—heck, even God-level monsters. But a plane nosediving?
That was extremely… extremely annoying.
He gripped the armrest and yelled, "Hey! Professor X! Control him—get into his head!"
Saitama remembered: Professor X could seize minds. Magneto wasn't wearing the helmet right now, so—
A cold laugh. "Surprised? Years ago, when you joked about using your power to control every mutant, I took you seriously. I disassembled Sebastian's helmet and fused it into my skull. Charles—you can't touch me."
Oh.
Saitama suddenly understood: they were in the post–Origins timeline. Charles, shaken by Saitama's power, had wavered once—and told Erik. Worried Charles might truly go that far, Magneto had broken down the helmet and grafted it into his own bones. Now he was immune.
"Erik! Wake up!" Charles shouted.
"I'm perfectly awake. If I kill you now, no one will block me later. You said it yourself—Sentinels appear fifty years on. If I unite every mutant and erase human governments first, it ends there… doesn't it?"
Saitama's face fell. The script was going off script.
He crushed his buckle, stood, and walked straight toward Magneto despite the dropping plane. "Hey. Stop it. Now."
Magneto smiled thinly, eyes closing. His outline twisted—and vanished.
Magnetic field translocation. He blinked out to another spot in the cabin.
This time he'd slipped the leash entirely.
What stunned Charles and Beast even more was what remained in Saitama's hand.
When Magneto initiated the jump, Saitama had caught his forearm. By all logic, space-shear should have snapped Saitama's arm like a twig. But Saitama was Saitama—throw him into a black hole and he'd probably break the hole.
Instead, Magneto's arm tore free in Saitama's grip.
Saitama stared at the severed limb, baffled. "Sooo… what do we do next?"
Charles looked like he might cry. What could he do?
"Hank! Now—"
"Island below!" Beast barked. "I'll try to ditch us!"
The hull lurched. Saitama was flung up—straight through the cabin wall and out into open air.
He sighed, mid-tumble. One step in the sky—then his hand clamped the wing.
Saitama pressed down.
The murderous shuddering eased. The plane, under an invisible, steadying hand, leveled and slid into a smooth, almost gentle landing on the island below.
(End of Chapter)
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