The office was quiet. Too quiet. Magneto sat behind his polished desk, fingers drumming lightly against the surface as his gaze lingered on the old helmet before him. The familiar contours, the cold metal… a reminder of battles fought, of decisions made, of the weight of being both savior and tyrant.

He traced a finger along the edge, memories flickering.

A sharp knock cut through the silence.

Magneto’s head lifted slowly, eyes narrowing, every instinct sharpening. “Enter,” he said, voice calm but edged with authority.

The knock had not just interrupted thought it demanded attention.