Magneto et Sabretooth
Erik's face soured, and the creases in his brow pinched together as he furrowed his eyebrows together and pursed his lips at the news of Morro's death. How the hell had that been allowed to happen? He hadn't the time to stew, however. The dwindling number of Darkseekers caused the Brotherhood and the X-Men to be spread wide across the estate. He could no longer utilize his metal disk, as it was clearly more safe to be exercised against larger numbers in a wider scale.
As the creatures were destroyed en masse, Magneto took the few moments he had to recover from the news of the death of his telepath/telekine to sweep his gaze along the distant and dark horizon that was littered with patches of forest. There were a few figures who had lingered in the distance. One was particularly large. From his best guess, and assuming the other two were average height, the central Darkseeker had to have been six and a half feet tall. He was pacing - in constant motion. "Sabretooth," he spoke with an even tone into his headset, "I have discovered your match. Set your eyes to the horizon." He didn't mind if anyone else was listening. They were probably too preoccupied with saving their own lives to mind his eccentricities. "Bring him here, alive."