Magneto's extraction, from the beach behind his manor, had not been remotely so dramatic as Medusa's capture. Perhaps taking him suddenly and in seclusion was an easier option than attempting to battle him because he was simply teleported, unshackled, in time to view Mojo's message before he was teleported again. He hardly had time to get his bearings before the woman beside him was snarling and it was perhaps only her wild demeanor that kept him calm.
"Patience, my dear," he murmured to the stranger to quiet her and with a flick of his fingers he freed her from those wretched metal shackles. Judging by her bonds he could only assume she had been taken as he had and, judging by the strangeness of her hair, she was clearly a metahuman. Mutant or not, he didn't know, but for the moment he had bigger questions. For example, what precisely were they to do here?
They stood at the edge of a sandy arena encapsulated within some kind of large dome bubble that his powers shored up against with a return that there was no metal to be found in this makeshift prison. He glanced to his other side to see if anyone else had been unfortunate enough to have been conquered and deposited here.