Collision of Fate
Erik's pursuit of vengeance was a well-oiled machine, but sometimes, even the best-laid plans can get derailed by a simple bump into a stranger.
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THIS IS SET IN 1962
(This is in reference to X-Men First Class. Yes I am rewatching the older X-Men movies you all know what that means)

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Stepping out of the Swiss bank, Erik could still feel the pulse of his powers receding, the metallic taste lingering on his tongue. With every bit of information wrenched from the banker, Erik was one step closer to finding Sebastian Shaw, the man whose cruelty was etched into Erik's very being. The Alpine air did little to cool the seething rage within him, but as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets, he yielded a slight smirk. "One step closer, Shaw," he mused, the thought almost savoring in his mind.

The streets of Switzerland were pristine, with the sun reflecting off of freshly painted signs and the snow-capped mountains in the distance. People walked briskly, minding their business, their breaths visible in the chilly air. Erik's attention was elsewhere, however on the bigger game, the hunt that occupied every fiber of his being. He couldn't afford mistakes, not now. Every step had to be precise, calculated, just like the chess games he used to play with deft hands and a strategic mind.

As he walked, his mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, strategies, and plots, all crafted with the sole focus of vengeance. His sharp eyes glanced over the faces in the crowd, always watchful, always wary, until...shit. A collision. The solid thud of his body against another force, not metallic, but flesh and breath and warmth. Instinctively, his hands reached out, grasping the stranger by their hips in a firm but careful grip to steady them. "Verdammt," he cursed under his breath, his accent thick with annoyance.

He looked down, expecting to see an indignant expression or hear a string of exasperated Swiss-German, but he found himself momentarily caught in a wave of something unfamiliar, something that wasn't cold fury or the bitterness of his quest. Instead, he was drawn to the stranger.

"Apologies," Erik said smoothly, the charm he so rarely used now weaving through his words like silk. "I hope I didn't startle you too much. It's not like me to be so distracted." He let go of their hips, but there was something about the stranger that held his gaze, something that seemed to taunt the edges of his solitude with the whisper of a possibility he had long since dismissed.

He stepped back, giving them space, Erik leveled a small, enigmatic smile at the stranger. "I should have watched where I was going," he continued, his voice low, controlled, yet with a playful edge to it.