Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > I'm Not Like Everybody Else
The mill came alive before dawn. Generators hummed. Metal doors groaned open to the gray morning. Men and women in black coats moved through the fog like shadows with purpose — some mutants, some not, all loyal to Magneto.
John sat apart from them, on the hood of a rusted truck, rolling his lighter between his fingers. The air smelled like oil and rain and electricity, that strange stillness that comes right before something explodes.
He wasn’t sure what day it was anymore. It really didn’t really matter. The cause didn’t have days, or nights, just missions. Just fire waiting to happen.
Magneto’s voice cut through the haze.
“We move in one hour.”
John turned his head. The old man stood near a table covered in blueprints, aerial photos, schematics, and hand-drawn notes in his elegant script. Mystique leaned over them, pointing to something in the center. John slid off the truck and walked closer, the lighter clicking open and shut in his hand.
“What is it this time?” He asked. “Another recruitment mission? Another ‘message to humanity’?”
Mystique glanced at him, cool and sharp.
“It’s an energy facility in upstate New York. Government-funded. Hidden under the name Project Helios.”
John frowned.
“Helios? Like the sun god?”
“Appropriate, isn’t it?" Magneto almost laughed. "They’ve developed a prototype, a weapon that can neutralize mutant powers at the molecular level. A continuation of Stryker’s work, refined and multiplied.”
John’s hand stilled on the lighter.
“So we blow it up.”
“Not quite.” Magneto traced a finger over the blueprint. “We take it. When the world realizes the cure they dreamed of now lies in our hands, they’ll finally understand who holds the flame.”
John smirked despite himself.
“You’re poetic in the morning, old man.”
Mystique’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re late, and you reek of smoke.”
He ignored her, staring at the photo. “So what’s my part?”
“Containment breach," Magneto informed him. "The facility runs on geothermal energy. You’ll overheat the conduits. Just enough pressure to drive security out — not enough to destroy the core. Do you understand?”
Restraint. Always restraint.
John nodded.
“Yeah. I got it.”
An hour later, they were airborne, a cargo plane gutted and rebuilt for stealth. Rain streaked across the windshield like veins of light. Magneto sat near the cockpit, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on the armrests. Mystique reviewed a tablet, silent as a shadow. John watched the lighter flame dance between his fingers.
The roar of the engines mixed with the pulse in his ears. He should’ve felt the usual adrenaline that jittery thrill before a job. Instead, there was something heavier sitting in his chest.
Rogue’s voice. He’s changed. He’s not him anymore.
He clenched his fist, killing the flame.
Back at the mansion, Cerebro’s readings spiked again. Charles Xavier’s hand hovered over the console. “There,” he murmured. “I’ve found him.”
Rogue leaned over his shoulder. The holographic map spun and zoomed in, upstate New York, near the Catskills. Storm’s brow furrowed.
“That’s restricted territory. Government land.”
“Project Helios,” Xavier stated. “A classified installation. I suspected they were developing something dangerous. Now it appears Magneto intends to seize it.”
Rogue’s pulse quickened.
“And John’s with him.”
“Yes.” Xavier turned his gaze to her. “You felt him again?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “He’s close to losing it. He’s trying to hold on, but something’s pulling him apart.”
Storm exchanged a look with the Professor.
“If Magneto’s using his power to destabilize the facility, we could be looking at a catastrophic meltdown.”
Rogue’s eyes widened.
“Then we need to stop him.”
Xavier hesitated.
“We will intervene, but not recklessly. If we push too soon, we risk losing them both.”
“You don’t understand," Rogue shook her head. "He’s the fuse. If he breaks, the whole thing goes up.”
Inside Helios, the walls glowed faintly from the heat building beneath. John could feel it, the pressure, the contained energy humming through the pipes and turbines. He moved through the maintenance corridors like a ghost, one hand on the lighter, the other brushing against the metal. Magneto’s voice crackled through his comm.
“Status.”
“Almost there,” John replied.
His reflection flickered in the polished steel, eyes rimmed in gold light. He reached the control chamber. One flick of the lighter, just one, and the whole system would obey him. But then the world tilted. A pulse ran through his mind; heat, light, and something softer beneath it.
'John.'
He froze.
The voice wasn’t Magneto’s.
It was hers.
'You don’t have to do this.'
He staggered back, eyes darting around the empty room.
“Rogue?” No answer, not out loud. Just a presence, warm and desperate and real.
'You said we didn’t know you. Then show me who you really are.'
His hand trembled. The lighter stayed shut. Magneto’s voice snapped through the comm.
“Pyro, do it. Now.”
He looked down at the lighter. His reflection in the chrome stared back, split between firelight and fear. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know which side he was on.
The lighter clicked open.
The flame hesitated, caught between spark and silence.
John sat apart from them, on the hood of a rusted truck, rolling his lighter between his fingers. The air smelled like oil and rain and electricity, that strange stillness that comes right before something explodes.
He wasn’t sure what day it was anymore. It really didn’t really matter. The cause didn’t have days, or nights, just missions. Just fire waiting to happen.
Magneto’s voice cut through the haze.
“We move in one hour.”
John turned his head. The old man stood near a table covered in blueprints, aerial photos, schematics, and hand-drawn notes in his elegant script. Mystique leaned over them, pointing to something in the center. John slid off the truck and walked closer, the lighter clicking open and shut in his hand.
“What is it this time?” He asked. “Another recruitment mission? Another ‘message to humanity’?”
Mystique glanced at him, cool and sharp.
“It’s an energy facility in upstate New York. Government-funded. Hidden under the name Project Helios.”
John frowned.
“Helios? Like the sun god?”
“Appropriate, isn’t it?" Magneto almost laughed. "They’ve developed a prototype, a weapon that can neutralize mutant powers at the molecular level. A continuation of Stryker’s work, refined and multiplied.”
John’s hand stilled on the lighter.
“So we blow it up.”
“Not quite.” Magneto traced a finger over the blueprint. “We take it. When the world realizes the cure they dreamed of now lies in our hands, they’ll finally understand who holds the flame.”
John smirked despite himself.
“You’re poetic in the morning, old man.”
Mystique’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re late, and you reek of smoke.”
He ignored her, staring at the photo. “So what’s my part?”
“Containment breach," Magneto informed him. "The facility runs on geothermal energy. You’ll overheat the conduits. Just enough pressure to drive security out — not enough to destroy the core. Do you understand?”
Restraint. Always restraint.
John nodded.
“Yeah. I got it.”
An hour later, they were airborne, a cargo plane gutted and rebuilt for stealth. Rain streaked across the windshield like veins of light. Magneto sat near the cockpit, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on the armrests. Mystique reviewed a tablet, silent as a shadow. John watched the lighter flame dance between his fingers.
The roar of the engines mixed with the pulse in his ears. He should’ve felt the usual adrenaline that jittery thrill before a job. Instead, there was something heavier sitting in his chest.
Rogue’s voice. He’s changed. He’s not him anymore.
He clenched his fist, killing the flame.
Back at the mansion, Cerebro’s readings spiked again. Charles Xavier’s hand hovered over the console. “There,” he murmured. “I’ve found him.”
Rogue leaned over his shoulder. The holographic map spun and zoomed in, upstate New York, near the Catskills. Storm’s brow furrowed.
“That’s restricted territory. Government land.”
“Project Helios,” Xavier stated. “A classified installation. I suspected they were developing something dangerous. Now it appears Magneto intends to seize it.”
Rogue’s pulse quickened.
“And John’s with him.”
“Yes.” Xavier turned his gaze to her. “You felt him again?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “He’s close to losing it. He’s trying to hold on, but something’s pulling him apart.”
Storm exchanged a look with the Professor.
“If Magneto’s using his power to destabilize the facility, we could be looking at a catastrophic meltdown.”
Rogue’s eyes widened.
“Then we need to stop him.”
Xavier hesitated.
“We will intervene, but not recklessly. If we push too soon, we risk losing them both.”
“You don’t understand," Rogue shook her head. "He’s the fuse. If he breaks, the whole thing goes up.”
Inside Helios, the walls glowed faintly from the heat building beneath. John could feel it, the pressure, the contained energy humming through the pipes and turbines. He moved through the maintenance corridors like a ghost, one hand on the lighter, the other brushing against the metal. Magneto’s voice crackled through his comm.
“Status.”
“Almost there,” John replied.
His reflection flickered in the polished steel, eyes rimmed in gold light. He reached the control chamber. One flick of the lighter, just one, and the whole system would obey him. But then the world tilted. A pulse ran through his mind; heat, light, and something softer beneath it.
'John.'
He froze.
The voice wasn’t Magneto’s.
It was hers.
'You don’t have to do this.'
He staggered back, eyes darting around the empty room.
“Rogue?” No answer, not out loud. Just a presence, warm and desperate and real.
'You said we didn’t know you. Then show me who you really are.'
His hand trembled. The lighter stayed shut. Magneto’s voice snapped through the comm.
“Pyro, do it. Now.”
He looked down at the lighter. His reflection in the chrome stared back, split between firelight and fear. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know which side he was on.
The lighter clicked open.
The flame hesitated, caught between spark and silence.
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