(Alara here.  This was written on the Magneto Mailing List in March 1998, in 
response to word that a certain someone who shall remain nameless is planning
on destroying Magneto's Holocaust background and entire past history with a 
retcon involving memory implants.  This horrified many of us, including the 
author of this story...)

Pardon me while I imagine it -- Magneto is attacking New York,
streams of magnetic energy are writhing around him -- the buildings on Park
Ave. South are straining and creaking, girders are groaning -- suddenly an
overweight middle-aged man with a red beard and balding head comes running out
of #387, screaming at the top of his lungs to the red and purple clad insane
Magneto floating above him, "I UNCREATE YOU! I UNCREATE YOU! I AM THE WRITER,
AND I SAY, YOU ARE NO MORE."

Magneto looks down at this mote of man, toddling and screaming
beneath him, and, in a soft cold voice tinged with a European accent, he asks,
"Do you think I am going to kill you?"
        The man is at first stunned, as the voice from above trails off into
the wind. The man stops, and shuts up. He stares up at the apparition. Then
suddenly his face turns red with rage, his body trembles with hatred.
         "You're Magneto, YOU'RE MAGNETO, the evil SONUVABITCH, evil through
and through," the man shouts. "YOU M**TH*RF***K**G EVIL SONUVABITCH, you SOB,
you're EVIL, you were born EVIL and you will ALWAYS BE EVIL!!!" The man is
dancing around now, hopping up and down with rage. "YOU BASTARD! You RAT-
BASTARD. You mass-murdering SOB!!!"

         Magneto suddenly but calmly raises one hand. "All right then, if you
insist.... "

         Abruptly, the man finds he cannot move. His rage is completely
replaced with a  terror that overwhelms him. He thinks feverishly -- he tries
to grasp what has happened: "I'm the mouse looking at the snake," he thinks,
"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. I don't wanna die."  It feels like his entire
body is held in Magneto's iron-willed grip. From the depths of his soul he
hears the words, as they escape his sputtering mouth, "Don't kill me, please.
Please, please, don't kill me, I don't wanna die ..." Yes, yes, his only hope,
is that he was wrong, that Magneto is a kind man at heart, that Chris was
right afterall. "Please don't kill me, please, I'm sorry. I understand, I
understand now. I DON'T WANNA DIE!"  And this red-bearded middle-aged man
starts to cry.

          Magneto smiles slightly, in the shadows behind his helmet. He knows,
there are many kinds of victories. He releases his hold on the pathetic,
blubbering creature, who thought to control him, to erase his very soul, and
watches for a moment, as the wreck of this man crumbles into a sobbing heap on
the street.
          Magneto rises higher into the air, and contemplates the vista of
Manhattan laid out before him, as once again he takes up the fight against 387
Park Ave. South.