Welcome to the Brotherhood

By Cadet Deming

I don't own the rights to the X-Men, Marvel and Fox Studios do so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. After a long fanfic writing break, I've been inspired by X-Men First Class, the best of the series (hopefully so far). The casting, writing, and special effects were great, with one exception: Emma Frost. So, I'm giving Emma's character more of her comic persona (and IQ Points). This takes place shortly after the events of First Class, in the early days of the Brotherhood. Rated T, Magneto/Emma, Please read and review (One Shot? Possibly More)

Sebastian Shaw always expected Emma Frost to be the dumb blonde: Look pretty, follow his orders, never have an original thought of her own. It was rather ironic, since she had the mutant ability to read everyone else's minds, and even control them. Almost all of them.

She sauntered down a corridor of the Washington, DC branch of Shaw's Hellfire Club, filtering through the sounds of other people' thoughts and the clank of her knee-high go-go boots against the polished wood floor. One train of thought overpowered the rest:

"I need a bigger army than this. I don't have even have enough bloody soldiers to fill a chessboard."

Emma smiled, following Erik Lensherr's mind. When he spoke aloud, his accent sounded like a blend of English, German, and sometimes even an Irish Brogue. His thoughts were always touched by a Polish lilt.

She opened the door to his temporary quarters. He had staked out Sebastian's old bedroom, in all its borderline-tacky ostentatiousness. Emma calculated a quick mental inventory of all of the metal in the room, something she had never paid attention to before meeting Erik.

He sat in a chair, hunched over a gleaming metallic chessboard. Even bending over, his bearing commanded attention.

At the noise of her shoes he looked up. She read his memory of the click of Nazi stormtroopers from his childhood, ready to drag him away into Hell.

Erik grabbed the gladiator-style helmet he had stolen from Shaw that blocked telepaths and fitted it on his head. It made him look 10 years older and covered his not exactly unattractive features. His grey eyes stared out at her intently.

"Don't you trust me yet Erik? I mean Magneto."

"I'm a big believer in trust…but verify. And most people knock first."

"Sorry. I'm used to having complete access everywhere."

The curve of a cruel smile flickered across his lips. "Yes. I've heard you were quite familiar with Shaw's bedroom."

Emma stiffened slightly. She didn't want to be typecast as just "the girlfriend" or recreation.

"I'm familiar with a lot more than you think," she said, crossing and recrossing her legs. "I love what you've done with the place."

He made a mocking gesture. "New curtains, some polish on the silverware, getting rid of the Nazi memorabilia. It's worked wonders."

She grabbed a Rook piece from the chessboard. "Yes, I don't see how you found the time to redecorate and play chess all by yourself."

He raised his hand and the piece flew from her grasp into his palm. Even though his thoughts were locked from hers, she could tell from his body language and expression that his mind was clouded with anger.

He crushed the piece in his hand. "Well, I used to play with Charles the other telepath, but I've yet to find his equal."

Emma leaned over the board, positioning herself so her cleavage swelled just a bit bigger. She locked her eyes on his for a moment and then looked down. "Well, if this is your strategy…"

She picked up a Knight piece and moved it until it was striking distance from his King. "Check"

"You know how to play chess?" he asked.

It could have been a compliment if it didn't sound so condescending.

"There are women that can play chess. We're not universally stupid, as the media would have you believe," she said.

He countered: "The stereotype of female inferiority has been around for far longer than the media."

"So has the stereotype of Jewish inferiority. According to the Nazis you're supposed to be stupid, dirty, greedy, vermin, et cetera."

Erik stared at his arm. A tattoo of a concentration camp number was inked across it. In the light it looked like a mixture of purple and black, like blood and darkness had melted together.

Emma spoke in a softer tone than usual: "You and I both know those stereotypes aren't true."

He gave her an appraising stare back. "True. I will admit, perhaps I've underestimated you as Shaw's former Girl Friday Night."

"So, how am I doing at filling in the void Charles left behind?"

Magneto raised his right hand. He looked like a priest or saint from an illuminated bible. One of his Bishop pieces moved across the board, in matching striking distance from her Queen.

"You are not Charles. And you never will be. Check."

Emma moved a pawn across the black and white spaces. "Give me a chance, and I can be something better. Better for you. Better for the Hellfire Club."

She looked into his eyes, frustrated by her inability to hear or even sense what he was thinking. Frustrated by her lack of control.

Magneto sighed. "Better isn't good enough. Checkmate."

"Did you wear that damn mask in front of Charles when you played with him? Of course he could beat you."

"I didn't have to."

"You do now. He's our enemy."

"I'm not really part of the Hellfire Club."

"Then what are you a part of?"

The chessboard pieces all started to rotate.

"I'm a part of the future of Mutantkind. I'm a part of..of..dammit we need a name."

The chessboard pieces all dropped and rolled onto the floor.

Emma started brainstorming. "A name? The Angel Cloud Club?"

Magneto deadpanned: "Angel Cloud? Oh joy. That will put fear into the hearts of millions."

"I was trying to think of the opposite of Hellfire. Maybe Greek letters, like a secret fraternal society."

"Fraternal, eh? Brotherhood! The Brotherhood of Mutants!"

Emma said: "Hello, breasts and a double XX chromosome sitting across from you. We have female members."

Magneto sighed. "You're really going to beat me over the head with this Woman Power bit, aren't you? I like Brotherhood. It has a strong connotation. Women like you are more than welcome to join."

"Oh, joy.