I am not big on Magneto history, so this is probably full of mistakes. I have never read two of the characters used in this story, which means that is more than likely that their characterization isn't accurate. What information that I do have comes from Alara.

The format of this story comes from 'Citizen Kane' -- I liked the outward moving in aspect of it... Unfortunately, it worked better for the movie -- perhaps because the movies creator was a movie making genius while I, on the other hand, am a dabbler in comic fan fiction.

Magneto and all other recognizable characters belong to Marvel Comics. I am making no money off of this, and mean no harm. This was written solely for my enjoyment, and possibly that of the readers of the following work.

Be kind, I'm feeling decidedly nervous about posting this one. Remember, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. *Sigh* Sillyfics are definetly safer... _____________________________________________________________

As It Must to All Men...
By Northlight

The man appeared almost dead, a state that he was not far from, save for the slight beeps that occasionally emitted from the machines hooked to his arms. The machines served both to keep his weakening body from slipping out of the grasp of the justice that had brought him to this place, and as a constant assurance that he still drew in shallow breaths.

The room was sterile, devoid of any hints into the mind and soul of the man it housed. Machines towered over the body that had betrayed him, leaving him weak and fragile... a state that he had long fought to combat. The only other living soul within the confines of the glaringly white walls was a young man, his dark green uniform garish against the whiteness of the room. A riffle was steady in his hands, unerringly pointed towards the unmoving figure laid out as the centerpiece of the room.

The man stirred slightly, and the riffle remained tightly focused on his body. A rattling breath was forced past cracked lips, and watery blue eyes peeled open to blink against the harsh light overhead. His voice was raspy from long disuse, but the soldier could hear the unbelieving words from his vigilant post against the door.

"It can't end... like this..." the man gasped out on his last breath. His eyes fell shut once more as the spiking lines on the nearby monitor fell flat.


'In a breaking news story, Erik Magnus Lensherr, the mutant terrorist known throughout the world as Magneto, is dead!

The world first encountered Magneto at Cape Citadel, Florida, when he attempted to commandeer their base. It was during this attack that the world first became aware of the reality of the mutants amongst us. This event was just the first in an escalating crisis in this nation and the world between humankind and homo superior -- a crisis which Magneto was all too often embroiled in.

The Master of Magnetism, self proclaimed saviour of mutantkind, was the source of many of the greatest crisis the world has known since the emergence of homo superior.

His long career as mutant terrorist involved, amongst may other events, the takeover of the South American city of San Marco; the attempted nuclear attack on New York city; taking the United Nations hostage; and threatening the globe with an earthquake device.

Much of Magneto's public life was spent embroiled in conflict with the governments of various countries whose leaders had been less than pleased with his goal.

The mutant who had spent much of his life enclosed within the trappings of power -- the uniform that proclaimed him to be Magneto - died in government supervision due to injuries sustained during his recent capture.

Early reactions to the news of Magneto's death have included celebrations among many sectors of the population, and deep sorrow on the part of the men and women who had placed their hopes on his power to effect change.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program...


A brief, thoughtful silence held the room as the brief newsflash telling the world of Magneto's demise came to an end. The man at the head of the table rubbed his chin, leaning back in his chair, his eyes squinting up at the ceiling in a position familiar to those who worked beneath them. The boss has a plan.

His head straightened, and the faraway look in his eyes was replaced by the sharp eyed gaze of a newsman with an angle. The men and women who had been waiting for that signal unconsciously straightened as his eyes landed on each and every one of them. "Everybody knows that Magneto's dead. A few days from now, no one'll care. What they want to know about is his life." He nodded to himself as if pleased by the conclusion that he had arrived at during his careful persual of the ceiling tiles.

"I want the story behind the man. I want to be able to tell the public who he was out of the helmet." One calloused finger jabbed outward, picking a face out from among the small circle of assembled news people. "Thompson, I want you to talk to anybody and everybody who has something worth hearing about Magneto. And I want to hear it soon."


The woman's face was expressionless, save for the fanatical light burning behind her eyes, undimmed by the death of the source that had sustained it. She sat ramrod straight, her unblinking eyes resting on the reporter's face.

He shifted uneasily, unnerved by the by the almost mindless look of devotion still spelt out in her eyes. At his slight movement, a look of contempt passed over the Acolytes features, a look which she did not try to disguise.

Those he had spoken to had often worn such looks of undying belief in the dream of their leader, despite the fact that his body had been interred only days before. He had to wonder what magic Magneto had possessed to hold so many enthralled.

"Magneto cannot be stopped," she stated her voice betraying no hint of disbelief. "Your foolish governments can't destroy him. Their fear cannot destroy power and righteous anger. Their hatred cannot stop the change Magneto promises!" Her voice was full of awe as she spoke his name, and held rage at the mention of those who would oppress the man she had chosen to serve.

"He has survived before, and he shall survive again. But until Lord Magneto himself returns to his people, the flatscans that attempted to destroy him shall pay for their crimes!" She stood then, her blazing eyes flaring to new heights with the strength of her words. "You tell them that," she hissed, turning on her heel smartly and striding from the bare room without another glance.


"He saved our lives," the Scarlet Witch stated simply. She was composed, but Thompson could see the shine in her eyes. "We were in Transia, wandering after the townspeople had discovered our mutant abilities. Not wanting the people who had raised us to suffer for our status as mutants, Pietro and I left. We found no sympathy elsewhere. It was Magneto who save us from the fear and anger of the townspeople who had attacked us."

"And all he asked in return was for us to be his unquestioning slaves," Quicksilver shot pacing about the room, his features set into a scowl. "Grateful for his timely rescue, we joined Magneto's Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and spent our time being abused and maltreated by the very man who had saved us." He ran a hand through his white hair before continuing on a slightly less venomous note. "And then he has the nerve to show up to tell us that we are his children! As if a genetic relation could make up for how he had treated us."

Whatever the man may have been, Magneto was certainly capable of igniting strong emotions in those whose lives he touched, Thompson thought as he took in the sight of his children and onetime followers.

"He wasn't all bad," Wanda said softly to balance her brother's angry recounting of their time with Magneto. "Other than that, I fear that I have little else to add."


This had been the last and single most difficult encounter to arrange. And looking at Charles Xavier, he could understand why he had been denied an interview until that moment. Even several days after the news of Magneto's death had broken, the sorrow still lingered on Xavier's face.

"Magnus and I were friends and enemies for the longest time. Both of us strived for the same goal, but the paths we chose set us apart from each other more often than not." He smiled briefly, a tiny movement that barely touched the rest of his face. "Sometimes, I wonder what we could have accomplished had we joined our dreams as one."

His eyes closed briefly as he strove to hold his emotions in check. He had always hoped that they could find common ground on which to forge a future for mutantkind together. "He was a man as complex as any, and more tortured than most. But what drove Magneto was the desire to help those who most needed it. I only wish that he had the chance to do so."