X-men- First Class -

"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 turning point was the Cuban Missile Crisis.

As Erik led his Brotherhood into the ocean, Charles heard one last telepathic whisper, soft as a goodbye.

"Peace was never an option, old friend. But I will try not to kill you."

X-Men.

Charles Xavier closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. Not to fight. But to find the next scared, lonely mutant. The next girl who couldn't touch anyone without killing them. The next boy who saw colors in sounds.

It was Erik who solved the equation. "Keep him busy," he muttered, then reached out. Not at Shaw, but at the coin on the floor of the submarine. The very coin Shaw had used to kill Erik’s mother. He pulled it. Through steel, through water, through the chaos. It shot up through the deck, through the air, and hovered, trembling, an inch from Shaw's forehead.

"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."

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.

Charles, bleeding in the sand, looked up. He saw his sister choosing the path of rebellion. He saw his brother choosing the path of vengeance. And he realized the truth of the name the newspapers had already given them.

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.

Erik wanted to sink it. Charles wanted to stop Shaw.

In that silence, the war began.