Fractals

Fractals Chapter Sixty (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *growlhoot* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: Patience, grasshopper… Morgan: You too, lol. Readers/Reviewers: It’s winding down now and there will be a day or so break, then a new fic. :)


“What’d your invitation say?”
“Nothin’… just to come out here for some hoo-ha. You know how these old guard are… always wantin’ to keep their names in the society pages…”
“Um… I don’t write for the society pages…”
“Me either…”
“You know,” a third voice joined the first two, “I was out at that Xavier place today, the school… really sketchy. They have some German housekeeper answering the door and saying how no one’s home. I think there’s some cover up going on about this whole mutant thing.”
“You also think you saw Elvis at the Quickie Mart last June.”
“He isn’t dead!”
Any other conversation was cut short as the front door swept open to reveal a tall, stately, much older man dressed entirely in black. “Thank you for arriving promptly. Do come in.”
The trio stared at him, then each other, then shuffled in. “Um, hi, Jimmy Olsen, Daily Planet…”
“I know who you are, Mister Olsen. Who do you think paid your bail?” Magneto strode ahead of them to a small study set off the main hall. It had once been used by the butler as a sort of office but it had long been more of a receiving room for Magnet’s more favored guests. The ones he did not want to be overheard. “Please, sit, all of you.”
Jimmy sat gingerly on the edge of a fragile-looking Chippendale chair, the two other reporters, both women, choosing matching Queen Anne pieces and settling in a mockery of refined comfort. “So…” Jimmy tried to sound professional. If Clark had known he had taken the invitation from his desk, he’d be a dead man, he thought. “Why did you ask us to come so early?”
“I believe you will find it rude in most circles to make demands of your host, especially before sherry.” As he spoke, a lithe woman who looked like every sexual fantasy Jimmy Olsen had ever had since the age of twelve come to life slinked into the room carrying a silver tray laden with a cut serving set which held, no doubt, sherry.
“It’s a bit early for sherry,” one of the women commented disdainfully, no doubt making a mental note to include that fact in her article on this unusual soiree.
Magneto merely smiled tightly and nodded to the server, who did not place one of the glasses in front of the complainer. “I would like to thank you for your presence here today, so far in advance of your colleagues. I felt that, of all those invited from the various media outlets, the three of you were the ones I could trust the most as far as reporting the facts, getting the story straight as they say.” He smiled and raised the sherry to his mouth but did not drink, setting it down after merely wetting his lips with it.
Jimmy, his hand shaking slightly, drained the glass, wincing as the alcohol burned it’s way down his throat and into his stomach, spreading like liquid fire through his veins. “Which story would that be?” he asked, his voice rough and slightly strangled. “About the mutant issue? Or about the Xavier Institute and the accusations made against them?”
“It’s one and the same, isn’t it?” Magneto asked, folding his hands casually in front of him, looking a tad confused, as if the idea had not occurred to him until Jimmy said the words and made it clear.
“Excuse me but…”
“Yes, Miss Nakahara?”
The reporter blinked, then smiled brilliantly. She had an eye on an on-camera reporting job and was always on cue. “How are you related to this entire issue? Mutants aren’t real, not in the way the tabloids are reporting, so why are you so concerned with this? I was under the impression there was no love lost between your enterprises and Xavier’s. Or with you and the Worthington family, for that matter.” She intimated through her tone her disdain for the entire upper class of the upper echelon of society. The sherry made her tongue tingle and made her feel decadent to be sipping it so early in the day, making her feel bold and powerful.
Magneto smiled. “Charles Xavier and I are old friends. Unfortunately, over the years, we’ve drifted apart as old friends sometimes do, especially when faced with obstacles such as running an empire—excuse me, a business empire. He chooses to respond to accusations through ignoring them, turning the other cheek, as it were. I choose to respond with truth.”
“What truth is that?” Miss Nakahara asked quickly, smiling as Jimmy sputtered. “That there are no mutants and Charles Xavier’s actions over the past few months show him to be, if not eccentric, then truly bent?”
Magneto’s smile became suffused. “The truth is a powerful thing, Miss Nakahara. The truth is bigger than both of us.” His teeth glinted in the golden light of the room at some inner joke. At some unseen and unheard signal, the door to the hall opened and in stepped the truth. “Sabretooth, say hello to our guests.”
The resounding roar rattled the glass in the windows. Miss Nakahara fainted. Only Jimmy remained unmoved as the other reporter promptly began screaming. “I think I have a friend you should meet,” he said with only a hint of a tremor in his voice.
Magneto smiled silkily. “I’m sure you do. Sabretooth, put them in the guest room until they recover. Jimmy…” He held out a hand as if to guide him along. “I believe we need to have a talk about your friend.”
“No.” Jimmy tried not to quail at the suddenly thunderous look on Magento’s face. “I won’t tell you about anything until you tell me what’s going on here.”
“Ah, a deal, then? Fine. I respect a businessman. A deal it is.” He moved to sit behind the desk and steepled his fingers. “You tell me what I want to know, I let you go without making you miserable, hm?”
“No.” Jimmy had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from but he doubted it was the sherry. “You tell me what’s going on and I’ll make sure it’s on the front page of every paper in New York state and the top story on every news station from here to Jersey and back.” Jimmy leaned across the desk and smiled. “Deal?”
Magneto frowned. “I don’t like making deals with children.” He narrowed his eyes. “Very well. Sit down and get out your recorder.”