Marvel: Protagonists Template

After spending some time casually jesting with Wolverine, bantering back and forth, exchanging bravado, and subtly lifting his spirits, Mark decided to excuse himself and ascend the staircase, intending to check in on Wanda and Pietro. Yet before he could reach the second floor, he was intercepted near the staircase by two familiar figures, Magneto and Mystique.

"Child" Magneto began, his voice both smooth and deliberate,

"are you aware of just how much potential you possess?"

Mark replied without hesitation, his tone laced with confidence yet lacking arrogance.

"Of course. I've always believed that I'm destined to become someone remarkable."

He smiled as he spoke, not out of vanity but out of certainty born from deep self-awareness. Even with his powers currently limited to the latent Saiyan physiology he possessed, he knew that once fully developed, those abilities alone would make him a formidable presence within the Marvel Universe. And that was to say nothing of the multiple protagonist templates he still had in reserve.

"Excellent," Magneto said approvingly.

"I admire that confidence. But you're wasting your gifts here. Come with me. I can help you tap into the full extent of your abilities. I'll give you the freedom to wield your power as it was meant to be wielded."

With practiced eloquence, Magneto began to unfold his usual ideological pitch, a vision of mutant supremacy, of liberation from human oppression, of a future shaped by power rather than suppression. He wasn't merely offering guidance; he was attempting to indoctrinate, planting the seeds of discontent and ambition in Mark's young mind, hoping to sway him into the ranks of the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Mark waited patiently for him to finish, offering no resistance, at least not outwardly. When the time came to respond, he did so with a disarming blend of honesty and tact.

"Well, to be frank… the teachers here warned me that you were something of a villain," he said with a playful smirk.

"Still, I'll admit, some of what you've said makes a lot of sense to me."

He glanced at Magneto with a thoughtful expression, then added with deliberate nonchalance

"But for now, I think Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is better suited to my development. Your group, well, seems a bit underfunded. Always on the run, always being hunted. Not quite the nurturing environment I need at this stage."

Then, with a deliberately open-ended tone, he concluded,

"Maybe when I'm older, I'll reconsider."

Though his words were cloaked in politeness and diplomacy, his meaning was unmistakable. Mark had refused Magneto's offer.

Yet the refusal was calculated. He had neither insulted Magneto nor burned any bridges. By leaving the door slightly ajar, however conditionally, he ensured that Magneto would maintain a favorable view of him, or at the very least refrain from treating him as an enemy. In the future, should their paths cross in less cooperative circumstances, that small seed of ambiguity might spare him from Magneto's wrath.

Magneto responded with an affable nod, seemingly unperturbed.

"That's perfectly fine. Should you ever change your mind, my door is always open."

He understood all too well that students indoctrinated by Charles Xavier were unlikely to abandon their mentor's ideals so quickly. But Magneto also believed that reality, harsh and unforgiving, would eventually erode their youthful illusions.

Meanwhile, Mark turned to Mystique, who stood beside Magneto in her natural blue-skinned form. "Excuse me, beautiful lady," he said with a grin.

"Would you mind letting me through?"

There was no denying that Mystique's physique was extraordinary, sculpted and graceful, radiating lethal allure. Her blue skin might be unconventional by human standards, but her form was nothing short of iconic. More importantly, her shape-shifting abilities allowed her to mimic anyone she chose, down to the finest biological detail, iris patterns, skin texture, vocal pitch, and even gender. In essence, to possess Mystique's favor was to possess endless novelty, a new identity each day, each hour if one wished. She was the living embodiment of desire's malleability.

Still, one question persistently haunted Mark's curious mind: given her natural form lacked conventional clothing, could her appearance technically be classified as 'nude'? And if so, was she essentially walking around naked every day?

As Mark disappeared up the stairs, Mystique licked her lips and remarked with faint amusement, "Clever little thing. Realistic, too. I like that."

Magneto nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. It's exactly that sort of cunning that won't allow him to stay here long. He's not one of Charles' idealistic dreamers. Eventually, he'll see things our way."

Though their interaction had been brief, Magneto's wealth of experience with manipulation and human nature allowed him to glimpse the depth beneath Mark's youthful exterior. He wasn't naive. He wasn't self-sacrificing. He wasn't content to be part of someone else's dream. Sooner or later, Magneto believed, Mark would walk his own path, a path that would converge with his.

"I hope so," Mystique said, shrugging her shoulders.

"He's charming for a kid. Got a sharp tongue and a quicker mind."

With a flicker of blue light, she activated her powers and transformed into an exact replica of Jean Grey, complete with a tight-fitting camisole that accentuated every curve.

"I think I'll go tease that foolish dog a bit," she said, smirking as she set off toward Wolverine.

"Don't overdo it," Magneto warned with a soft laugh.

"We still need them until the plan is complete."

No sooner had Mark reached the upper floor than he was intercepted again, this time by Storm, who emerged abruptly from around the corner, her tone serious and protective.

"Don't believe a word that Magneto says," she warned.

"Last time, he nearly got Rogue killed."

Storm had been discreetly monitoring Magneto and Mystique since their arrival, unable to trust their motives within the mansion. She had seen them corner Mark at the stairs and, wary of potential manipulation, had kept a close watch on their interaction.

"I know," Mark replied openly.

"He tried to recruit me into his Brotherhood. I turned him down."

Storm relaxed slightly, though her expression remained cautious.

"But, Professor Ororo" Mark continued, "I believe we should be cautious of him during the rescue mission. If Stryker is truly capable of using Professor Xavier to eradicate all mutants, then it's not inconceivable that Magneto might attempt to twist the situation, perhaps to turn Charles against humanity instead."

Storm's eyes widened in alarm.

It was a chilling possibility, one that hadn't occurred to her before. If anyone could exploit the situation for his own agenda, it was Magneto. The thought that he might let the Professor fall under Stryker's control, only to redirect that control against all humans, was disturbingly plausible.

"Thank you, Mark. That's incredibly important. I'll be sure to keep a close eye on him."

"Of course," Mark replied with a shrug and a smile.

"It's just a theory. Maybe he's not that evil."

Yet the warning served a double purpose. Not only did it heighten Storm's vigilance, but it also subtly reinforced Mark's image as a perceptive strategist, a thinker beyond his years. In environments like this, where age could diminish one's influence, the perception of wisdom and foresight was an invaluable asset.

If the others began to see him not as a child but as a visionary, then his ideas would carry more weight. His leadership would be accepted, not merely tolerated.

"He is that evil," Storm muttered, conviction mounting in her voice. "We'll need to keep him under strict watch."

Just as she turned to walk away, Mark stopped her with an urgent gesture.

"There's one more thing, something very important."

Her demeanor shifted instantly, registering the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?" she asked.

Mark inhaled slowly, then began explaining with measured clarity.

"My powers, as Logan mentioned earlier, allow me to greatly enhance my physical abilities and release energy-based attacks. He mentioned this briefly before the meeting."

"Yes, I recall," Storm said with a nod.

"However," Mark continued, "there's something I didn't say at the time, because Magneto was there."

Storm tilted her head, curiosity piqued.

"During a full moon, if I happen to gaze at the moonlight directly, my powers undergo a massive amplification. But the cost is steep. I lose control completely. I transform into a primal beast… something like a Great Ape."

Storm stared, momentarily stunned.

"In that state, I can't differentiate friend from foe," Mark added.

"I become a force of destruction. There is, however, one way to stop it, cutting off my tail. That's the only way I can return to normal."

The revelation was staggering.

Mark had debated whether to disclose this information. It was a powerful secret, his ultimate trump card. But the consequences of withholding it were too dangerous. If no one knew how to revert him, he could spend the entire night as an uncontrollable beast, wreaking havoc upon both allies and enemies alike.

A single uncontrolled rampage could render him more catastrophic than a mind-controlled Hulk or even a corrupted Scarlet Witch.

Storm's expression turned grim. "I've never heard of anything like this before."

"Just make sure the others know," Mark said. "Logan, Colossus, Nightcrawler. If I turn, someone has to take the shot."

Storm gave him a solemn nod, fully accepting the responsibility.