Whether they lived by the rules of a God or simply by gambling with Fate, this world was rotten, humans' morals corrupt. Their greed knew no limit and their selfishness shed the blood of innocent. Justifying their misdeeds by accusing one and other, they refused to be branded as the villain, claiming that they were simply fallen heroes who dreamt of building a better world.

Perhaps that was why Angelika was quick to join Caliban's organisation. They both shared different goals; Caliban hoped to make profit by relocating mutants and she aided those who were targeted by different organisations. But she needed him as much as he needed her. She brought in clients and he financed her rescue missions.

Angelika neither believed blindly in a God or did she expect Fate to be kinder. She took matters into her own hands, either standing firmly like a deeply rooted tree or swimming against the currents.

After the end of the Second World War, governments manifested perilous interest in mutants — enhanced individuals, they called them. The US government had actually succeeded in creating a super soldier to fight against the Nazis, by altering the genes of a regular human. But said soldier died in action and the scientist who held the secret formula was assassinated long before. This avant-première of how much of the world they could control through one mutant made them hungry, ravenous for another super soldier. S.H.I.E.L.D was one example. That distasteful, one-eyed wannabe pirate by the name of Nick Fury never ceased his search for mutants, claiming he wanted to create a group of heroes to protect the world. He had the guts to make an offer to her, she commended his bravery, she truly did, but who died and gave him the right to summon mutants and hold authority over them?

On the other hand, there were those like Bolivar Trask. The despicable imp deemed mutants as a threat to humanity. His fear was not completely unjustified, not after a bullet curved miraculously midair and assassinated JFK. Angelika still remembered the horror that shook her core upon hearing the name Magneto. Erik Lehnsherr had become a terrifying, merciless man. She had once hoped he would become the benevolent person his grandfather always wanted him to be, to be compassionate like his mother taught him to be. But Magneto became the name of a villain, one that left a foul taste in the mouths of those who uttered it.

However, Erik's violence did not justify Trask's quest to eradicate the mutant race. It gave her a horrible case of a déjà-vu but this time, she was not as defenceless as she once were. She was a fighter; what's wrong and right, just and unjust, she cared not. She simply planned to have Trask's head on a spike.

Would imprisoning Erik in a metal-free ditch put an end to mutants rebelling against humans' unjustness? No, others were just smart enough not to go public by killing the president. There would be more Eriks and Bolivar Trasks in the future; the heinous cycle of hatred will continue unless one part surrenders.

In the end, humans or mutants, they were all fucked.

—

"How do you feel today?"

Angelika stared incredulously at the bespectacled woman sitting across her, baffled by the sheer absurdity of her question. "You're the empath. Not to mention, I'm paying you over a hundred dollar per hour to fix whatever is broken inside me."

"Yes," Georgina chuckled, "But I'm asking you how you feel to help you assess yourself. I can't fix things in your stead, I'm merely a tool for you to use."

Georgina Woodley, former captive of HYDRA, currently the most expensive therapist in Washington DC. Just like Angelika was proficient with telepathy, Georgina was a formidable empath who sought to use her mutation to cure the damaged and so far, the telepath saw her more as annoying than helpful.

"Georgina," Angelika sighed as she got up to leave, "If I wanted someone to ask me how I am doing, I could've easily gone to my usual café and chat with my favourite barista. She would do it for free."

"Angelika-"

"I won't be coming for our next session. Trask will be in Paris next week and I intend to crash the party. Hopefully he'll tell me where he's hiding the mutants so that I won't have to go inside that filthy mind of his," she spoke casually, shrugging on her jacket.

"Will you be safe," Georgina asked, her voice wavering, "If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

The telepath flashed a crooked smirk, giving a cocky air. "Stay under the radar and call me if anything is suspicious. That's all I ask of you."

She turned and left, cringing when she heard the empath calling her a hero. The whole definition of hero appalled her — she didn't have a righteous bone in her body. Had she not lived through the hell Schmidt put her through, she would've never thought of aiding others to escape. Without Caliban, she wouldn't even know where to look.

She didn't deserve the praise of a hero.

When Angelika thought she was done with today, the cab ride to home having somewhat cleared her mind, she found the front door slightly open ajar. Grinding her jaw, she clenched her fists by her side. The building she lived in was known for being safe, what with the heavy security system and the custodian who occupied the miniscule office by the entrance. Had Fury found her? Or was it HYDRA this time?

As she slowly pushed open the door, a force pulled inside giving her a case of horrendous whiplash. She fought the bile rising in the back of her throat, clutching her chest. Her stomach progressively settled and she finally took in the company that awaited her in her living room. A silver-haired teenager with a shit-eating grin on his face, a rough looking man smoking a cigar, a dirty hippie sitting in the loveseat and an awkward nerd who waved at her.

Fucking hell.

Angelika promptly took the cigar out of the nameless man's mouth and put it out. "Who the fuck are you and how dare you smoke in my apartment," she seethed, baring her teethes.

"I told you it was a bad idea," the teenager murmured, nudging his hairy companion in the side.

"Shut up, kid," the man merely rolled his eyes.

The hippie intervened when he realised this was going nowhere. He stood and offered her his hand to shake, a charming smile plastered on his face, "Please excuse us for intruding, Miss Frank. We come seeking your assistance."

Men are idiots.

"That doesn't really answer my question now, does it? If none of you give me an adequate answer in thirty seconds, I'm going to read your mind and I promise you it won't be pleasant." A bluff. Using her mutation to read minds had never caused physical pain, she just didn't want to flip the switch back on. "So who's gonna speak?"

"My name is Logan," the hairy man spoke up, "And I've been sent here from the future to stop you and Mystique from killing Bolivar Trask."

Mystique. Caliban spoke highly of the shape-shifting mutant. Her powers were exquisite and nobody could find her unless she wanted to be found. She partook in similar activities as Angelika but she had a more violent edge, a follower of Erik's ways. It didn't surprise her to think that Mystique would want to kill Trask as well. But this Logan character claiming that he came from the future? Now that was new.

Angelika stared at Logan, unsure to whether laugh at his face or throw him out the window for smoking a bloody cigar. Having noticed the distrusting air she gave, Logan quickly added, "If you weren't so reluctant in using your powers, you would know that I'm telling the truth."

This particular remark irked her. How did he know about that bit? The only people she confided in about it were Caliban and Georgina. Were they being tapped? Emerald sparks flew from her fists, alarming the intruders.

The hippie grew frantic. "Miss Frank, please listen to us before you-"

"Are you with S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA?" She asked, cutting the man off. "Bear in mind that the longer you take to answer, the higher the chances of you dying are."

But Logan remained unfazed by the threat, almost as if he saw through her lie. "Neither. I was sent from the future by the Professor and Magneto. Why don't you just see it for yourself? It'll clear things up quite easily."

Deeply irritated that a man who was intruding her house was telling her what to do, a small orb of electricity shot towards said man, rendering him unconsciousness. "Holy shit," the teenager breathed out. "Did you just kill him?"

Angelika scoffed, leaving his question unanswered to torment the intruders. Wordlessly, she knelt next to Logan and raised her hands on either side of his head and allowed herself to dip into his world.

—

A world consumed by darkness.

A hopeless land for both mutants and humans who dared to aid them.

Mutants were mutilated on the face with the letter 'M' and wore a collar around their neck to prevent them from using their mutation. As if the inhumane treatment was not enough, they were hunted by horrendous machines that possessed the ability to change their aspects to counter whatever mutation. Sentinels, she recognised them, Trask's on-going project.

However, Logan was neither mutilated or wore a collar. He was lying on a table of some sort, his consciousness projected into the past by another mutant who struggled to maintain her concentration. Two older men watched over him, one in a levitating wheelchair and the other in a familiar magenta costume.

Why didn't it surprise her that Erik was alive despite the hostile environment? He had always been a survivor — he fought harder than anyone, always on the frontline. Time had not been so kind to him, wrinkles deeply marking his face.

"Angelika Frank," a voice called out for her. She whipped her head to see the bald man smiling warmly at her. "Do not be alarmed, we've already met. I'm the one you call 'the dirty hippie', I believe."

"How can you see me...?" Angelika asked, her eyebrows dipping into a frown.

He laughed good-naturedly. "My name is Charles Xavier and I'm a telepath like you, my dear." His gaze fell on Erik's unmoving form as he continued, "Erik has told me a great deal of things about you. A loyal companion, the most remarkable mutant with a kindred spirit."

"Well tell him to take those flatteries and shove them up his ass because none of that matters anymore."

"My apologies, I did not mean to upset you."

"I don't want your apology either, just tell me why you sent Logan to me."

Why was it so hard for these people to cut to the chase? Their world was practically coming undone each passing second.

"Mystique, my dear sister, and you are about to kill a man named Bolivar Trask. When you do, it'll put the world on a dark path. Humans and mutants alike will live at the mercy of evil men," Xavier explained, "You've seen everything, how broken this world has become. Changing the past is the only chance we have at preventing this tragedy."

This was everything Angelika feared, a repeat of the nightmare she endured years ago. Mutants marked and imprisoned, living from day to day because they did not possess the luxury to kill themselves. 

"And why do you need me," Angelika asked. 

"They need your help to break out Erik in order to-"

"Stop." Her head was spinning."I refuse to break him out from the freaking Pentagon where he's being punished for assassinating JFK. Nothing says that he won't fuck up the fuck-up and do something incredibly stupid."

Xavier let out a sigh. "Perhaps Erik has a better chance in convincing you."

"What-"

Erik who was once immobile became animate, turning his head to meet Angelika's panicked gaze. The sorrow that his eyes held felt like a stab to the heart and she hated herself for feeling so. She should be hating him, but a small part of her, one that she kept buried for so many years, yearned to ease his worries and whisper words of comfort.

He dared to take long strides towards her, his gloved hands cupping her face. She shivered at the sudden touch before slapping them away. "If you wish to live, keep your hands to yourself, Lehnsherr. I will not hesitate to severe your nerves should you act so boldly again."

And he had the audacity to laugh in her face, genuinely enjoying her hostility. "Still a spitfire, I see. You haven't changed much, Angelika."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you," she snapped, "A president-killing, good-for-nothing asshole."

"I did not kill the president," he rolled his eyes, almost as if he was tired of having to explain it, "I was saving his life that day. He was one of us."

Angelika's eyes widened. JFK, a mutant? Would Erik stoop so low to lie about such thing to have her on his side? "I swear, Erik, if you're lying to me-"

"Why don't you use your powers anymore? You used to enjoy reading my thoughts," he mused.

"I'm never getting inside that head again," she hissed. "Your mind is the worse kind of hell that even demons flee from."

Quietly, Erik studied her face for a moment. Her reddened cheeks were enough proof of her ever-growing anger towards him but there was a glint in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. Sadness? Regret? Guilt?

"I understand that the past needs to change for the future to change. I won't kill Trask and I will stop Mystique as well. But do not expect more from me; you'll stay in the Pentagon until the end of your sentence."

Erik quirked an eyebrow. "I was sentenced to life into that prison."

"Precisely."

"You're upset with me," he stated. Angelika barked out a bitter laughter, tears swelling in her eyes.

"Really? What gave away?"

Once more, Erik's hand came resting on her cheek. "Angelika, I cannot go back to the past and undo my mistakes. I understand my rash action has wounded you and there is nothing I can do to make it better but you need to see the bigger picture. Without me, it'll be incredibly hard to stop Mystique and if Mystique is not stopped, it'll damn all of us into a terrible fate."

"Can you promise that your younger self won't stir any trouble," Angelika asked, nervous about the idea of unleashing Erik into the world again.

"I was a different man during that period," Erik sighed, "Fuelled with anger and the overwhelming need to protect our kind. I cannot guarantee that I won't make any more mistakes but that's where you come in, Angelika. You're the only one who can keep me grounded."

She snorted. "What a load of bullshit. You've proven on many occasions that I mean shit to you. When did that change?"

"For a telepath, you're quite easy to fool."

Taken aback, her eyes widened. This was exactly why she vowed to never talk to Erik again. He knew exactly how to say to keep her putty in his hand. By giving her the impression that his betrayal and harsh words were merely an act, he gave her hope that the Erik she knew was not quite gone.

"I believe your time here is up, dear Angelika. I hope you'll make the right choice."

And the last thing Angelika saw of the grim future was Erik's warm smile.

—

When Angelika's consciousness returned to the present, she was laying on her bed, the blind rolled down. She heard the low voices of her unwanted guests and she could smell the faint scent of cheese and pepperoni in the air. Her head felt like it was being smashed repeatedly by a sledgehammer but she forced herself to get up.

As her bedroom door swung open, the men paused and the speedster abandoned his position at the kitchen to regain his seat next to Logan, pretending as if he weren't raiding her fridge.

"I have made my decision," her voice came out low and raspy, "Tomorrow, we break out Erik from the Pentagon."

Charles let out a sigh of relief before a brief smile graced his face. "Thank you, Miss Frank."

"However, I do have one condition," she added, causing the hopeful looks to falter, "Erik will remain strictly under my supervision." She half-expected Charles and company to protest but a dark twinkle in his eyes took her by surprise.

"Would not have it any other way."

Oh Erik, she thought bitterly, how many friends have you ruined?

---

A.N: 9 chapters later, we're finally entering the DoFP arc! Hope you liked this chapter. :) If you have any criticism, please don't hesitate to review and I'll do my best to fix it.