The Republic of Santo Marco, South America, Christmas Day, 1963
Wedged between the borders of Brazil and the Atlantic Ocean, there is a small splinter of land that most people have never heard of. Like most nations in the Americas, the tiny country of Santo Marco was the end result of the clashes of the once-great European colonial powers, fighting for control over the resources and treasures of the New World. Beginning it's existance as just another outpost for the Spanish Empire in the 16th century, Santo Marco would pass through the hands of the Dutch, and finally the French, before finally rebelling against their colonial opressors at the dawn of the 20th century. Sadly, like most other nations with a similar history, rebellion didn't buy freedom, simply further opression and cruelty from another master, General Alejandro Moldava, a former revolutionary who seized power upon victory, resuming the reign of terror under a different name. It wasn't until long years of further rebellion and war that the people of Santo Marco were finally able to oust the tyrant, and formed a republic of their own that it seemed they had finally succeeded.
It's been years since that fateful day, and in the days hence, Santo Marco has enjoyed a time of relative peace under the reign of President Felix Navidad, a fair man in most respects, albeit not a perfect one, but few politicians ever are. Content to stay out of the eyes of the world, the small republic seems to have avoided the long shadow of the Cold War, and the upheaval rocking many of the other South American nations during the tumultous post-war era.
That is, until today....
.....
They heard the explosion first
The city of Santo Marco was as disparate as it's inhabitants, Spanish architecture clashing with that added by the Dutch and the French in the years when the country was still a colony, towers and spires right next to simple brick and mortar buildings, narrow city streets snaking between the buildings and small plazas. Today, the streets were even more crowded than usual, decorations hanging from windows and lampposts, swaying in the breeze drifting in from the ocean, carrying the smells of food from the street vendors cooking on the sidewalk out over the city. Despite the heat of the tropics, there was no mistaking the Christmas cheer across the city, musicians playing on the sidewalk as revelers passed by. While the people of Santo Marco might not be the richest, they didn't need to be, they had earned what little they had the hard way, and were content with their lives. Despite it's fractured history, and the wildly disparate origins of the population, they had learned to live in relative peace with eachother, the descendants of the Spanish, the Dutch, the French, and even the natives. Sure, there was some occasional strife, old grudges that were never quite forgotten, but compared to most, they lived as peacefully as they could. And today was Christmas, after all, the one day of the year when the differences between them mattered the least. Peace on Earth and good will towards man and all that...
The thing about peace is that it's so very easy to forget just how fragile it is.
A distant roar rose above the jubilant noise on the street, and the revelry fell away as the people stopped in their tracks, staring at the city skyline. A cloud of ash and dust billowed up over the rooftops, licked by flames from beneath.
And then THEY appeared, as if out of nowhere, marching in unison like a terrifying clockwork machine.
An army, thousands of men dressed in military uniform and combat helmets, clutching rifles in their hands, flooded into the streets, marching towards the population standing frozen, staring in horror at the sight. The uniforms did not look familiar, they weren't the same kind that the small milita kept by the Republic wore, and the weapons looked too modern to be the same ones they used either. In fact, there was nothing distinct at all about the soldiers, even their faces seemed strangely hooded, shadowed by the helmets they wore, making them look almost... faceless.
One thing did stand out however. On the chest of each man, there was a large, red "M" stitched into the fabric of the uniform.
The citizens began moving backwards, looking around in terror for a way out, but there was no escape, the soldiers had blocked off the roads, leaving anyone outside trapped. The invaders came to a halt, and a voice broke out above the terrified muttering down below.
"ATTENTION, PEOPLE OF SANTO MARCO!!"
A figure stepped up on the rooftop edge overlooking the plaza, a tall man, dressed in red and purple armor that glimmered in the morning sun, a long, purple cape flowing behind him in the breeze. His face was hidden beneath a helmet the same color as his armor. He spoke again, his voice booming and deep "THIS NATION IS HEREBY CLAIMED BY THE BROTHERHOOD OF EVIL MUTANTS! THIS LAND SHALL BECOME A SANCTUARY, A HAVEN FOR ALL OF MUTANTKIND FROM THE WORLD THAT HATES AND FEARS US! IT SHALL BECOME A HOMELAND FOR THE GLORIOUS FUTURE OF HUMANITY, FOR HOMO SUPERIOR! FOR MUTANTS! SUBMIT, AND YOU WILL BE TREATED FAIRLY! RESIST US, AND..."
The man rose his arms into the air, and the soldiers raised their rifles, aiming at the crowd. At the same time, there was a strange rattling noise, and for a minute, it seemed like the streets themselves were beginning to move. Suddenly, every metal object in the area began to shake, cars began to lift off the ground, nails and screws in the stalls and building rattled in their sockets, window panes trembled, forming cracks in the glass held inside, even coins and jewelry began to move, floating away from their owners, out of pockets and off fingers and necks, gathering in a large mass above the terrified crowd. And just as quickly, the effect ended, dumping the valuables back down on the people, drawing shrieks as they huddled, arms raised over their heads in a vain attempt at protection.
"...YOU WILL NOT ENJOY THE CONSEQUENCES!"
...
"Pietro, I don't like this. It's not right..."
Wanda Maximoff, better known as the Scarlet Witch, looked down on the street in dismay, observing as Magneto terrorized the citizens of the nation he had decided would make the perfect mutant homeland. She spared a contemptuous glance towards Mastermind, standing close to his masters side, his face carved with sadistic glee as he worked his illusions. The army beneath them was nothing but a trick, created on Magneto's behalf, his insistance that the humans of Santo Marco had to be cowed through a show of superior force that the five members of the Brotherhood, for all their power, didn't possess in numbers.
Beside her, Pietro didn't answer, his face a blank mask as he watched the pitiful display below. He'd been unusually quiet lately, ever since their leader had unveiled his grand plan for the small country, the usual brashness and cocky arrogance replaced by a sullen compliance. Wanda knew he didn't like this any more than she did. But that damnable pride of his...
"Pietro, please... You KNOW this is wrong, these people haven't done anything to deserve this!"
Pietro scoffed "They're just humans, Wanda. They're not worth the tears. This is our land now, they'll just have to learn to live with it."
"Will they, though? Once Lord Magneto has what he wants, then what? Where will they go?"
"That's not our problem. You heard Lord Magneto, as long as they don't resist, they can live. I don't care where they do it, as long as they're gone..." There was a brief flash of doubt on his face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared, Wanda thought she may have imagined it. "You know what humans are like, Wanda. Did you forget why we're even part of the Brotherhood? Remember Wundagore? Remember what those damned villagers tried to do to us? What they did to Marya? They BURNED her! Over stolen bread! Everyone we knew and loved are gone because of them! If Lord Magneto hadn't found us, we'd have nothing!" He gave the terrified people down below a last glance before walking off towards the rest of the brotherhood "We're the strong ones now, sister, and it's our turn to take what we want for ourselves. I suggest you get used to it..."
Wanda stood there, watching her brother leave, and not for the first time, found herself almost wishing she'd never heard the word "mutant"
...
President Navidad startled back, dropping the phone reciever he'd been holding as he tried desperatly to get his military advisor on the line with no luck, when the doors leading out to the balcony of his office began to rattle, before tearing off their hinges, the glass panes shattering as the doors were torn away, flying off the side of the balcony.
And a familiar figure in red armor strode in, cape billowing behind him. A figure Navidad remembered from the American newspapers he liked to read.
"You!!"
"President Navidad. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I believe that'd be a lie for both of us." Magneto said with a bored tone, glancing around the office. "I suppose this palace will suit my purposes. A bit opulent for my tastes, but then again, one must keep up appearances as a ruler."
Navidad reached for the gun hidden in the drawer of his desk, but just as his fingers touched the revolver handle, the drawer suddenly slammed shut, crushing his hand inside. Navidad screamed, feeling the bones in his hand creak in pain, and he began to try and force the drawer back open, to no avail.
"Really, Mr. President, you disappoint me..." Magneto said, forcing the drawer closed even further, drawing another scream of pain from Navidad "I guess I should have learned by now to expect these unimaginative, pathetic attempts at defence from your kind, but it's always so annoying when you refuse to see reason. You heard my ultimatum, Navidad, same as the rest of your subjects."
Navidad glared back at him, gritting his teeth through the pain in his hand "What... what the hell do you think you're going to accomplish here?!"
"Think?" Magneto answered, an eyebrow raised "I don't think anything, Navidad. I've already done it. As of this moment, Santo Marco is officially under the rule of the Brotherhood Of Evil Mutants, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. The only thing you need to concern yourself over is if you're going to be worth keeping locked up, or if I'll have to make an example out of you to your people. Help me make the transition as painless as possible, and maybe you can save your own worthless hide..."
"G-go to hell, mutant!"
Magneto sighed. "Again, disappointing..." He raised his hand, and behind him, a sharpened metal bar, torn lose from the wall when he had entered the palace began to float up into the air, the sharpened end pointing towards the President. "But not surprising..."
.....
Westchester, New York, A Few Hours Later
"-international news, there are reports coming from the small South American nation of Santo Marco that a coup has taken place. Early on Christmas morning, a surprise attack by unknown forces struck the capital, seizing control in a matter of hours. Though unverified, we have reports from our correspondents in Brazil that the attack may involve the mutant terrorist Magneto, alongside several other unidentified superhuman participants. An emergency meeting has been announced by-"
Professor Charles Xavier shook his head sadly, his face grim as he sat alone in his room, listenting to the broadcast. For a moment, he was glad that his students weren't there to hear the news, all too busy preparing for a holiday they wouldn't have a chance to enjoy now. Let them keep their christmas cheer for a few more precious moments. He clicked off the radio, and began to wheel himself towards the door.
"Oh Eric. What have you done?"454