Et Tu, Jace?

Posted on Sat Nov 9th, 2024 @ 12:16am by Charles Xavier & Shinobi Shaw

2,400 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 5: Days of Fortune Past
Timeline: November 6th, 1990

In the quiet sanctuary of his private study, Charles Xavier sat alone, a small green light blinking softly on the control panel of Cerebro’s console. The vast expanse of his mind extended outward, reaching across distances and borders, weaving through thoughts, and sifting through a haze of emotions until he found the one he sought—a cold, guarded presence, lurking in the shadows.

He closed his eyes, focusing, and allowed his telepathic presence to project directly into Jace's mind, now known as Shinobi Shaw. The mental landscape around them began to take form as Charles pressed his way into the recesses of Jace’s consciousness. Soon, a space emerged: a darkened room with tall, dimly lit windows and walls adorned with symbols and ancient carvings, Shaw’s mental palace—cold, calculated, and deliberately hostile. But Xavier’s presence was an undeniable force, a light piercing the shadows.

"Jace," his voice resonated through the silence, steady and piercing, bearing the weight of their shared past. "Or should I call you Shinobi Shaw now? I think it's time we talked about the path you’ve chosen."

Shinobi was sitting in his private office at the Virginia manor house, going over the latest reports from Trask. Things seemed to be progressing well with production and could possibly be ahead of schedule by the end of the week. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he closed the folder and set it off to the side. The smile quickly faded however, as he started feeling odd; like someone was in his head.

Then like in a dream, he was seated at his desk in the deepest, darkest recess of his mind. He withdrew into this place mentally many times when he was alone, when his mind would wander and thoughts would drift. But now it was different. This time he had been called here. This time someone else was here. The Professor.

"That is my name," he said, "my birth name. It would only be appropriate to do so. Unless of course you choose to address me with some form of Lord Imperial. That would be most acceptable."

Xavier’s gaze held steady, an almost imperceptible sigh brushing through his thoughts. He regarded Jace with a mix of resignation and a touch of the old warmth he had once held for him as a student. It was a warmth tinged now with gravity, weighed down by the implications of what lay between them.

“Titles, Jace, do not make the man,” he replied, his voice even, penetrating the darkness of Jace’s mental refuge. “Nor do they bring true power. You know that as well as I do. Yet you choose to cloak yourself in the illusions of grandeur, to hide the parts of you I once tried to nurture.”

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle, to stir some recognition or defiance, some hint of the Jace he once knew.

“What concerns me, what brings me here now,” Xavier continued, his tone deepening, “is not the title you bear or the empire you wish to build. It’s the direction you’re leading it, Jace. You stand at the edge of a precipice, aligning yourself with Trask’s legacy of hatred, enslaving our kind through technology. Tell me—where does this path lead, in your mind? What is your end game? Because I believe, deep down, you haven't fully decided.”

"You are correct. Titles do not bring true power," said Shinobi. "True power comes from within; the desire to strive to master the space around me. My will to power is no longer to simply survive, but to become stronger, to evolve, to become the master of that space. It's survival of the fittest. It's the core of evolution; conflict between competing forces that fight for supremacy. My conflict is that I will no longer be enslaved by humans or mutants for their own agendas."

He paused, calming himself for a moment. "Our kind...," he said quietly. "It's not mutants versus humans or humans versus mutants. It's the strong versus the weak. It's evolution; only the strong survive. A wise man once told me that the depths from which I climbed exist only to frame and give basis to a singular oath that will drive me forward into godhood: never again. Never again will they treat me like trash. Never again will they capture me for their own agendas. Never again will I be afraid of them. I swear by myself, never again."

Xavier let the silence linger between them for a long moment, his expression a measured calm but his mind rippling with both regret and resolve. He saw Magneto’s spirit in the young man, the echo of words he had heard from Erik countless times—yet twisted, sharpened into something more ruthless, something that placed himself alone at the center of his ideology.

“Never again,” Xavier repeated, his voice low, almost saddened. “That was once the mantra of a man who, despite his faults, held a vision for our people that went beyond himself. Erik was, in his own way, trying to make the world safer for those who would come after him. But what I see in you, Jace—no, in 'Shinobi'—is something far narrower, far more tragic. You are no longer fighting for survival, as you claim, nor are you fighting for the survival of anyone else. What you are building, this legacy you believe will make you a god among men, is nothing more than an edifice of resentment. And it will, in time, collapse around you just as it did your father.”

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Evolution, yes, is about strength. But true strength comes not in crushing others beneath you but in raising them alongside you. You’ve confused might with true power—mistaken destruction for evolution, isolation for mastery.”

Xavier’s tone softened, becoming almost imploring. “Consider what you are becoming, Jace. There is still a path back to a place where your ambitions can have purpose beyond a shallow empire of fear and loathing. Come home. Rebuild what you have broken, where you may rediscover what it means to serve something greater than yourself. Even Kennedy, who once stood by you, saw through this façade—she could see that in reaching for the world, you lost what truly mattered. I ask you now, Jace: is this really the future you desire, a throne built on ash and the despair of dying alone in the end?”

Shinobi opened the large bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a helmet whose base design would be familiar to the Professor. He'd come across his father's research and designs quite a while ago and ordered another one made since Magneto had stolen Sebastian's. 

But this one was more fitting for Shinobi. The helmet exuded opulence and menace, blending regal sophistication with a sharp, sinister edge. It was crafted from the same material as the original and covered with an alloy, that gave it a deep, reflective obsidian black. It was trimmed with the same silver colored material from which it was crafted.

At the forehead, an elaborate sigil combining elements of fire and shadow rested, framed by subtle, sweeping curves. The front of the helmet held to the original design. On the sides, it tapered into elegant yet sharp points, mimicking the blades of a rapier and signifying both deadly cunning and finesse. The rear of the helmet would curve smoothly to cradle the neck, offering full protection without sacrificing style.

"I am already alone. Your X-Men made certain of that. And I am home, with what is left of my father." When he placed the helmet over his head, the dream was over. Xavier disappeared and Shinobi was back at his desk in his private office. 

The instant Shinobi donned the helmet, sealing himself off from Xavier’s mental presence, the Hellfire Knights in the room suddenly shifted, their postures rigid as Xavier’s telepathic influence seized hold. One Knight stepped forward, the hollow resonance of Xavier’s voice emerging from beneath the imposing helmet.

"Is that truly what you believe, Jace?” Xavier’s tone was calm, yet tinged with sorrow. “That you’re alone because we, your friends and teachers, abandoned you? The truth, my dear boy, is that you have abandoned us—turned your back on those who stood by you and offered you more than a shadowed legacy.”

The Hellfire Knight tilted its head, each syllable echoing through the room like a quiet admonition. “You sit here, in the plush confinement of your self-made prison, tethered to a hollow inheritance. The helmet you wear, this fortress you’ve built—it isn’t protection. It’s a gilded cage. You think you've inherited power, but all you've really done is imprison yourself.”

Another Knight spoke, picking up the thread seamlessly. “I, too, Jace, have wealth, power, influence. All these things you worship, I already have and if I so wished I could acquire more. Yet I do not wear them as armor or parade them for validation. They are tools, nothing more. Means to an end. And my end is simple and clear—to build a future in which peace can thrive, a dream shared by those I love and respect. And what, pray tell, is your end?”

The Knights paused, allowing Xavier’s question to hang in the air, a mirror to the stark emptiness within Shinobi’s ambitions.

A third Knight took a single step forward, the movement almost gentle. “You are like a dog chasing cars, Jace. Chasing resources, power, respect… but tell me, what happens when you finally catch one? When there are no enemies left to conquer, no toys left to break? What will you be left with, then?”

The last Knight crossed the room, standing directly before Shinobi, as if to dare him to confront these truths. “I pity you, Jace,” Xavier’s voice was softer now, with an ache of regret. “Not for your actions, nor for your choices, but for the day you realize the true emptiness at the end of this path. For on that day, you will face yourself, alone and unfulfilled, and discover you have never once left your father’s shadow.”

The Knights went silent, standing as lifeless sentinels of Xavier’s presence, awaiting any response from the man who had, tragically, barricaded himself from a world that still wanted him.

"You've said peace, but I believe you mean the other thing," said Shinobi. "I will not be shackled to the mediocrity of mankind or mutant-kind in exchange for peace. That, Professor, is tolerance. And tolerance is extinction. I am free. And when that day comes, I will still be free. And I will die free."

All four Hellfire Knights straightened, lifting their heads in eerie unison, and when they spoke, the voice that emerged was Xavier’s, bearing a sorrowful gravity that seemed to fill the room.

"No, Jace. Peace is no shackle. It is the only true freedom that can be won in this life." There was a faint quiver in the chorus of voices, a mournful strain woven into the collective timbre. "What you call freedom, this defiance, is nothing more than slavery to your own passions and fears. You’re trapped within the very things you claim to master, blind to how they consume you. And your fate, the one you so proudly declare… it’s merely a grave of your own making. The very life you wish to command will be snuffed out by your own hand.”

Xavier's voice softened, tempered with a sadness that felt deeply personal. “You are lost, Jace. Truly lost. And I mourn what you could have been. This illusion of power—these trappings, these walls—are nothing but a tomb, like Erik on his distant asteroid, trapped within his own exile. He thinks himself ruler of the heavens, but in truth, it’s only a self-made sarcophagus, severed from everything he ever loved on this Earth."

All four Knights moved as one, stepping back as if in retreat. “I am not your enemy, Jace, and I will not impede your chosen path. Not because you are free, but because you have enslaved yourself to a downward spiral of destruction that needs no interference. You’ve chosen your fate, and it will unfold without my hand in it. May it bring you whatever solace it can, for I want no part of the sorrow that awaits you.”

As the words faded, the presence withdrew, leaving the Knights empty once more, silent sentinels bearing witness to the weight of Xavier’s final resignation.

Shinobi sat there, unsure of what to say or what to do. His mind, even unto his inner sanctuary, had been violated by a telepath. There had been no asking, just that he was there and demanded to talk. No wonder Magneto wore that helmet most of the time. And then invading the Knights like that... Shinobi was getting furious the more he thought about it.

He slammed his fist on the desk. "What the absolute hell! I can't even get any peace of mind in my own private office miles away from those...those...X-Men?!" He stood up so fast that the chair slid backwards and hard into the wall. "And you," he said coming around the desk to the Knights, "what am I going to do with you?! You're supposed to be the best. That's why you're here. Worthless, no good..." Shinobi continued to get angry. He phased and reached into the chest of the nearest one and squeezed his heart into mush.

"I should've done that when Xavier was in your heads. Or this." He grabbed a pair of gargoyle bookends from the desk and phased them. Then he placed them in the helmets and heads of the Knights before bringing them back to normal density and leaving them buried in their skulls. He lunged for the fourth one, thrusting his phased hands into his chest and collapsing his lungs.

Shinobi took a few steps back and leaned against the edge of the desk. "First, you invade my mansion," he murmured. "Then you invade my mind. Enough is enough." He pushed a button on the nearby intercom. "I have terminated four employees. Have their bodies removed from my office immediately."

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