Return-Path: From: UFDE94C@prodigy.com (MR JON A BARTLEY) Date: Mon, 30 Jun 1997 17:01:59, -0500 To: untold-l@netcom.com Subject: Heroes & Villains (1/1) Sender: owner-untold-l@majordomo.netcom.com Errors-To: owner-untold-l@majordomo.netcom.com Reply-To: UFDE94C@prodigy.com (MR JON A BARTLEY) *** DISCLAIMER: X-MEN and all-related characters are Copyright (C) 1997 Marvel Characters, Inc., and are property of the Marvel Comics Entertainment Group. They have been used without permission. No profit has been made from this work. This story is Copyright (C) 1997 by Jon Bartley. *** NOTE: 1.) This story might contain offensive language. Yes, it just might. Read no further, if you're offended by such things. 2.) It might be helpful to discard everything that has taken place in the X-Comics since the "Fatal Attractions" storyline, before reading this story. 3.) Let me know what you think. Send all comments to UFDE94C@PRODIGY.COM. HEROES & VILLAINS (1/1) By Jon Bartley Charles Frances Xavier was finishing his letter-writing. He scribbled his signature at the bottom of his five-page letter to Kurt Wagner, neatly stuffed it into a long white envelope, and placed it in his outgoing mail basket. Firmly grabbing the large wheels on his wheelchair, Charles pushed away from his desk. He glanced vaguely at his digital watch, and saw it was almost eight in the evening. The X-Men-founder left his office and wheeled himself down the long carpetted hallway. If you want to get technical, and most people don't, Charles Xavier was a hero. Unless you counted that time, one Halloween many years ago, when Bobby Drake had convinced him to dress up as 'Batman-inna-wheelchair', Charles hadn't really ever worn spandex. He couldn't shoot concentrated optic beams from his eyes or go BAMF!. Of course, he had the mutant ability of telepathy, but he didn't use that much these days. No, Xavier's heroism came from some place in his soul, where most people who can't shoot concentrated optic beams from their eyes or go BAMF! get their heroism from. Like Xavier, these people were heroes because of their *willingness* to help. The strange thing about kindness is, it's contagious. Xavier came to a stop at the end of the hall, where his student Jean Grey stood. She folded her arms across her chest, and smiled behind an expression of annoyance. Jean looked the Professor over up and down, which didn't take long, considering he was sitting. "Well, you're all dressed up nice. Where are you off to?" said she. "Where I go every Friday at eight o'clock." Charles replied, and smiled. Jean's smile became larger and more annoyed. "Why are you so secret about this place you go? Why do you keep it secret from your friends and family?" said she. "I have my reasons. You're entitled to your secrets, I'm entitled to mine."--Charles' smile grew--"Don't worry, Jean. I'm not doing anything you need to worry over." Jean nodded, and stepped to one side of the hall, and let Charles go. * * * Genesis Labs was a genetics research laboratory, and was currently in ugly competition with Essex Labs. Essex was far superior, with its contributions to cloning research and creating synthetic diseases which were meant to cure more natural diseases. Essex was also more technologically advanced. Genesis, however, was most famous for its mutant experiments. In fact, experiments on mutants were the *only* experiments Genesis did. And Erik Lehnsherr was very much aware of this, when he assaulted Genesis Labs. The mutant terrorist Magneto took one last look inside the main lab at Genesis, noting the glass and metal aethetically tossed on the vinyl floors. He pressed a gloved finger to a red button to the left of the exit, and the cold metal door slammed shut. He walked down the long corridor. This was the time when Magneto thought about whether it had all been worth it. He assaulted anti-mutant organizations, or rather, pro-human organizations, on a weekly basis. Lehnsherr was constantly planning his next act of mutant terrorism. But right after he'd completed each evil deed, he had to stop and ask himself: was it worth it? Were mutants, homo sapien superiors, really more powerful than ordinary humans, were they really better? Or were they simply proof that humans - mutated ones or otherwise - couldn't handle power of any kind in their small, flawed hands? Lehnsherr asked himself the same questions, after every mission. Magneto's thoughts were interrupted by a short, blonde woman, her body covered in spandex. The woman smiled, and extended a hand upward in Erik's face. He hesitantly reached forward, grabbed the tips of her fingers, and shook them. Her smile widened. "Thanks for helping us get Pax back," said she. Erik looked to a crowd of brightly-dressed people ahead of him, gathered around a large green man, who was covered in superficial wounds. He looked back to the young woman, and muttered a response. "Did you get what you came here for?" she asked. "Yes," he replied, patting the five disks attached to his belt. "Okay. So, uh, after all our planning, you finally got what you wanted, and my friends and I got Pax back. SO. Um. Now that it's over, this is farewell, huh?" Erik nodded, and began walking again. The young woman followed him, and continued: "Listen, Magnus. I've listened to what you've had to say about how mutants are seen in this country and all... And I really agree with most of it. Uh. I mean, maybe we could go out later, and talk some more. I know this place--" "I don't think so," he said coldly, cutting her off. "I'm involved with someone right now." "OH. Is... Are you serious?" "Everything I do is serious. My love is very important to me." "Okay. Well, I meant what I said. Maybe we could work together again sometime?" said she, hopefully. "Perhaps. The authorities will be here shortly. Take your friends and leave. I have other plans... and I'm already late." * * * It was now fifteen minutes after eight o'clock, and Charles Xavier had been drinking for nearly a half-hour. He had wandered into the bar unnoticed, and wheeled himself toward the back. Charles took residence at a small table, and ordered what he considered was enough alcohol for two, troubled old men who were in desperate need of alcohol. Xavier heard a buzzing sound, and looked up from his glass to see Erik Lehnsherr in front of him, in his "Magneto" costume, excluding his cape and helmet. Erik smiled, and said, "I apologise for my tardiness. May I sit?" Charles nodded and extended his hand outwards, motioning for Erik to be seated. "Can I pour you a drink?" said Charles. "Not yet." "Fine then," Charles said, and poured himself another scotch. "How have you been? Anything new?" Erik looked off for a moment, and brushed his long white hair away from his face. Charles noticed a single braid hung on the right side of his friend's cracked and tired face. "I suppose I have many things to confess this week. The first is essential, if you want to understand what kind of mood I'm in these days. This week I assisted a small group of mutant super-heroes in freeing their friend from Genesis Labs, which was performing horrific experiments on him. I only agreed to help them, because Genesis was in the possession of certain information I was interested in. The plan went well. They have their friend back, I have my information." Erik paused. "Afterwards, the leader of this group thanked me for helping them, and then asked me out for drinks or dinner... or at least tried to. I rejected her offer, and told her I was involved with a woman." "Are you?" said Charles. "Yes. I'll explain in a moment." said Erik. "Now this was ten minutes ago. Even after I told her this, she was still interested in me, for my ideas and opinions. I think she wanted for us to be friends. Yet I still pushed her away. I regret very little I've done in the past few years ...except this." "Pushing people away?" Erik nodded. "I know what that's like. My students respect me, and I think they would help me in anything, I only have to ask for it. But in all truthfulness, I think you're my only friend." Lehnsherr's brow furrowed, as his eyebrows lifted. "It's amazing how much you have in common with your enemies." "So what about this woman?" questioned Xavier. Erik looked at the glass in front of him, and edged it toward Charles. "I think I'll have a scotch now." Xavier poured slowly, as Erik continued speaking. "Her name is Cynthia Fellows. She's a newspaper journalist, and has very valid opinions about costumed individuals such as 'superheroes and supervillains'. 'Men that wear masks rarely wear one,' as she says. She worries about me psychologically." "Did you hear about Ms. Mayhem?" said Charles. "No, who's she?" "She's a super villain. Last week she and her gang of thieves pulled off a bank robbery. Anyway, she seemed quite happy after the robbery, but the morning after, her fellow criminals found her dead in her apartment. She'd commited suicide. Mayhem apparently suffered from several mental disorders, and didn't seem to recognise her identity as Bernice Foley, towards the end of her life. So Cynthia has reason to worry about you." Erik nodded, poured himself another drink, and tried to remember what he was about to say. "Tell me, what makes your Lois Lane so special?" said Charles, just as Erik remembered he'd wanted to ask Charles whether he *lost* his hair, or whether he just never got any. Erik thought a moment before answering his friend's question. He sat up straight, and replied: "She's against children, marriage, dancing, rock concerts, 'Ellen', and people who buy collector's cups from fast food restaurants. Cynthia is an obsessively neat person, and enjoys eating peanut butter from the jar. She stimulates me intellectually, and I assume I do the same for her."--Erik allowed himself to sink in his seat--"I have no idea what's happened to me in the past few weeks, but I'm most certain Cynthia's caused it, and I find myself liking it." "Contention?" offered Charles. "Contention? Nearly. Very nearly. If my work in this red costume makes me half-way content, then Cynthia nearly completes me." "Does she *know* about your work in that red costume?" "Let's not talk about that." "Very well." * * * After relieving his bladder for the fourth time this evening, Erik returned to his and Charles' table, his walk a little calmer and slower than when he left his friend's company. When he sat down again, he noticed Charles was slowly getting drunk, which was something both men had difficulty doing these days. Especially when they *wanted* to get drunk. "Your braid," said Charles. "What about it?" "Was that Cynthia's idea?" "No. It was mine." "It looks horrific." "Jealous?" Erik said. "No. I shave my head." "Is that so?" Erik laughed. "How did you keep yourself busy this week?" he said, and waved his hand in the air, which filled the bar with the soothing moans of Hank Williams Sr. via a juke box the bartender had thought was unplugged. "On Monday, my X-Men and I desperately attempted to prevent this reality from merging with one in which the sun has burnt out, and the Earth is run by life-force of an alien astral entity. By Tuesday, everything was safe and sound. I was woken Wednesday by the fighting of my first two students Jean Grey and her husband Scott Summers. The fight concerned a toilet seat and whether it was Scott's responsibility to lower it, once he was finished using the toilet." "How was this problem solved?" said Erik. "I suggested that, for one week, Scott sit down when he pees. We have yet to see any progress. I'll continue to update you on the matter. On Thursday, we threw a surprise birthday party for Hank McCoy. All the members of the household gave him similar gifts. I simply reminded him of all I've already given him, and he didn't seem to mind that I didn't present him with some bright package." Both men laughed. Xavier's shoulders sank, and his smile slowly vanished. "May I ask you a question, Erik?" said he. "Always." "Let us consider this: let's say that I'm the hero"--Charles pointed to Erik--"and that you're the villain"--Charles pointed to himself--"All right. If you consider that... then why is my vision so warped? We sit here in this bar every Friday, and discuss our lives like civilized men, like friends. Why can't the rest of the world do the same? Why can't this world live in harmony?" "Because it's only on Fridays, Charles. We are deadly enemies the rest of the week." said Erik. "True." "So do these Fridays really matter?" Charles stroked his chin. "Hmm. Good question." said he. * * * It was now nearly midnight. Charles and Erik had devoured all decent conversation, leaving both elderly men in uncomfortable silence. It was decided, after five minutes passing, that the night was over, and it was time to go home. Charles pushed himself away from the table, and Erik grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, and pushed his friend to the door with the slow and easy walk. "So where were you tonight?" said Erik. "I've been thinking about that." said Charles, letting a large yawn escape his mouth. "To those that question our whereabouts on these Friday nights, we lie. Why? I've been thinking maybe I should tell my students the truth." "That you go and have drinks with your 'most deadly nemesis'? Out of the question." "Hmm. Well. Magneto is my 'most deadly nemesis'. I consider Erik Magnus Lehnsherr to be my best friend. There's no harm in telling them or anyone else I was drinking with my best friend, is there?" said Charles, with a wide grin on his face. Erik returned the grin. "Not at all." he said. Erik opened the bar's glass, front entrance for Charles to wheel through, and paused for a moment outside, to feel the cool night air on his face. Charles stopped as well. They took a moment to reflect how the world had changed in twenty years. And how it hadn't really changed at all. "Same time, next week?" said Erik. "Same time, next week." And then both men left each other's company, Xavier departing on the left, and Lehnsherr departing on the right. The End.