But the coin moved. Slowly at first, then with the finality of a guillotine. It punched through Shaw's skull. The helmet fell. The man fell. And the silence that followed was more terrible than the explosions.
As Erik led his Brotherhood into the ocean, Charles heard one last telepathic whisper, soft as a goodbye. X-men- First Class
"I can feel the sailors," Charles whispered, as they hovered outside the sub's hull in a stolen helicopter. "They're scared. They're just boys. They don't want this war." But the coin moved
The war had begun. But so had the dream. The helmet fell
"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."
But they were not a team. They were a schism. Two doors had opened in the human mind: one labeled "Cure," the other "War."
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.