"Boys become men who fire missiles," Erik replied, his voice cold as the deep ocean. He tore the helicopter's door off its hinges and dove into the water.
The battle on the beach was chaos and beauty intertwined.
The human ships, seeing the mutants as a greater threat than the Soviets, opened fire. A naval barrage tore into the beach. A stray shell struck Charles in the spine.
"No." Erik turned to the others—to the survivors, the beasts, the angels, and the outcasts. "Who is with me?" X-men- First Class
"Peace was never an option, old friend. But I will try not to kill you."
Erik’s jaw tightened. "I'm always thinking about Shaw."
"You're thinking about Shaw," Charles said, removing the helmet. His eyes were kind, blue as a summer sky, but weary. "Boys become men who fire missiles," Erik replied,
The CIA learned of a secret fleet: Soviet and American ships facing off in the Caribbean, but beneath them, a Russian submarine retrofitted with Shaw's mutant-powered technology.
Shaw, now a power-behind-the-throne advisor to the Soviets, had engineered the standoff. His goal was simple: ignite World War III. In the chaos of nuclear fire, he believed mutants—who would survive the radiation—would rise as the new gods.
But they were not a team. They were a schism. Two doors had opened in the human mind: one labeled "Cure," the other "War." The human ships, seeing the mutants as a
"You wanted a world where they accept us," Erik said, his voice hollow. "Look at what they did to you, Charles. Out of fear. Out of hatred."
In that silence, the war began.
Alex's plasma blasts ignited the sky. Hank, transformed by a failed serum into a blue-furred beast, tore through bulkheads. Raven, shifting from a soldier to a general to a nurse to a ghost, sowed confusion in the enemy ranks. And in the center, Charles and Erik fought Shaw.
"No! There is always another way!"