06/06/85

WHO ARE THE X-MEN?

By J. Jonah. Jameson

Last week, headlines were made when Charles Xavier, former CIA Agent, advisor to three different presidents, and Schoolmaster, was subpoenaed to Washington DC, as part of a Senate Committee session on Mutant Activities. He was called to task for his involvement in the X-Men, a CIA initiative previously thought to be defunct, which the Senate claims he has resurrected as a private operation to act against US interests. Charles Xavier has been accused of working with the terrorist Magneto, who recently attacked the US-Soviet Mutant taskforce…

Wakanda, June 1st

Wakanda might have some of the most advanced technology Steve had seen outside of Tony's labs, but, thanks to their fierce isolationism, their satellite dishes left a lot to be desired. So, by the time Steve had finished hooking up his new television and setting up the dish, all the while thanking Sam for showing him how after the Compound's TV had been shorted out, he had missed the signing ceremony. Fortunately, he was just in time for the press conference.

One by one, the "New Avengers" walked on stage. Tony came on first, all smiles, in his favourite suit, picked up a microphone and announced each new member as they walked on. After Tony, it was Rhodey, wearing his military uniform and medals, who wheeled himself onto the stage, causing Steve's stomach to lurch. He hadn't realised that Rhodey had been injured in the fight. Next, it was Natasha, who had cut her hair short again. Scott Lang followed quickly behind her, dressed in a creased, clearly rented suit. Finally, Vision, having foregone his usual armour and cloak combo for a simpler sweater and formal dress pants. They stood together, side by side, as the journalist snapped pictures.

The New Avengers.

Steve wondered when the old Avengers had ended. Had it been at that Airport? Or had it been Ultron, with the Accords simply being the final nails in the coffin? Had there ever really been an Avengers, at least one the way the media had depicted it, the one where they were all best friends who would swoop in to save the world? Steve supposed not. Thor had been off-world most of the time, Natasha was too damaged to connect with any of them, and Bruce was too afraid of what he was to try. And Tony…

Steve let the thought slip away from his mind. He had burnt that bridge. He needed to move forward.

As Tony clearly had.

Tony walked to a podium at centre stage, as the rest of his new team took a seat behind him. He was going to give a speech. Steve realised, with a dull pang of nostalgia, that that had been his job. He had been the one who gave the speeches. Tony had always handled the press, but Cap had been the one they had turned to for the speeches, for the famous quotes, for the perfect soundbites.

Tony flicked the microphone, causing the room to wince, pulling all their focus back on to him.

Typical Tony, though Steve instinctively, needs all eyes on him. Always needs to be the centre of attention.

Tony smirked as the camera settled squarely on his face.

"First of all, before we get into it, I just want to thank you all for coming here today. I know that this gets said a lot these days, but I feel like this truly is a momentous occasion. When the Avengers signed the Accords this afternoon, we sent a message, that just because you have special powers, more money than god or you are, in fact, a god, doesn't mean you get to play by your own rules. We are not laws unto ourselves, and we do not get to decide what's best for everyone. We're just here to help, in every way we can.

Now, don't get me wrong, the Accords are not perfect, and they may never be. But they are a necessary step for us to take on the road to ensuring the world's safety. The incidents in Germany prove that. The Winter Soldier proves that."

Tony hesitated. He looked like his breath was caught in his throat.

"I prove that. Any questions?"

The room was flooded with noise as each reporter tried to out-yell the others, all to get Tony Stark to notice them.

Beneath the stage, a man in a crisp military uniform that Steve didn't recognise quietened the crowd, before calling a reporter with silky white hair forward.

"Anderson Cooper, CNN. Mr Stark, some say this that this entire endeavour is simply you trying to make up for Ultron. What is your response to that?"

Steve could feel the tension in the room through the TV screen. The murmurs that had been skirting around the room fell silent. Steve felt his heart soar. Ever since these Accords had been dumped in front of him since Tony had snapped at him in the compound's lounge. Why betray the team? Why betray everything he believed in, to become a government lapdog? Guilt. That's what's always driven him.

To his credit, Tony didn't even hesitate before answering.

"Anderson, the first thing you have to realise, I didn't create the Accords. While they may have been developed as a response to the Ultron incidents, I was not involved in that process. As for my guilt, of course, I feel guilty. I tried to do something good, and I created a monster instead. Ever since that moment, I have worked day in, day out to make up for it. It's cost me a lot: A lot of time, a lot of friends, a relationship. But I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was the right thing to do, guilt or no. Next question."

Anderson sat down as a hundred journalists started scribbling furiously. A pretty blond lady in the second row raised her hand.

"Megyn Kelly, Fox News. Mr Stark, were you aware that several members of your new team have extensive criminal records, some of which include crimes committed against America? Even with these accords, how are we going to be sure we can trust this team?" She spat out the word like it was a curse.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Mrs Kelly, might I remind you that none of our compatriots have current criminal records because they have been pardoned by executive action. Mrs Romanoff has served America honourably, and Scott Lang was recruited to the Avengers by Captain America, the man your network reveres. Surely, you don't doubt the Captain's choices?"

A laugh rang out from the back of the room, as Kelly sat down gingerly. As quick as a flash, a hand shot up from the front row.

"Sally Fields, WHIH News. Speaking of Captain America, Mr Stark, your former teammate is currently wanted for questioning in relation to at least four counts being an accomplice to second-degree murder, forty counts of assault, thirty counts of reckless endangerment, and one count of grievous bodily harm. Since Mr Lang was part of the Captain's team during these events, can we expect the Captain to receive a pardon as well? And If not, how do the Avengers plan to deal with him?"

You could have heard a pin drop in that hall.

Tony fiddled with his tie. Steve watched him reach for his bottle of water, take a sip, and put it back.

He doesn't know what he's going to say, Steve realised with a start. He doesn't have a plan to deal with me.

Tony finally started to speak. "Captain America has served his country, and the world, faithfully. He gave his life for it, and we respect that. I respect that." The room started to murmur again. Tony continued. "However, in light of his recent actions, it's clear that Captain America has lost the plot. He believes he is above the law."

Steve's heart sank like a lead balloon.

"Captain America will be brought to justice for his actions, and the Avengers will be the ones to do it. Next Question." The room exploded with uproar. Every reporter stood up and yelled a question forward. The man in uniform tried in vain to regain order.

Steve turned it off.

That was it. He was officially a fugitive on the run. His friends had abandoned him.

(A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he had betrayed Stark first, that he was the one who had to abandon them.)

Steve stared at the blank TV screen.

"You know, my mother always said sitting too close the TV will ruin your eyes. Must not have been much of a thing back in the thirties."

Steve sprung up from his chair and spun around.

"Sam! Dear Lord, am I glad to see you." Steve bear-hugged him.

"Same here, buddy. It's been crazy." Sam slumped down into a chair.

"What are you doing here, Sam?"

Sam rubbed his eyes.

"Well, after Tony got us released from the Raft, I went back home to Washington DC, and it just didn't feel right anymore. After being a part of the Avengers, helping you look for Bucky, taking down SHIELD. I couldn't just go back to civilian life. And I don't know Tony. He's a good guy, but he isn't my friend." Steve felt a tear well up in his eye. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm with you to the end, Cap."

June 2nd, New York

He was swinging through Manhattan, which was weird because he normally stuck to Queens. The world around him burned, but still, he swung on, never even feeling the flames. He had a mission.

The world shook

He stood at the foot of a giant. A silver and blue monstrosity, a robotic golem that towered into the sky, like the final boss in an episode of Power Rangers. The citizens of New York had all fled, screaming. The machine looked at him with cold red eyes.

"Mr Parker, are you listening?"

"What?

"Mr Parker, am I distracting you?" Mrs Walters stood over his head, a smirk on her face as Peter sprang up from his desk and began to blink rapidly. The entire class laughed.

"Um, no, no, I was just, um, resting…"

"I could tell. My question is, why are you doing it in my class?"

Flash Thompson's smile grew wider. Harry Osborne winced, while Ned Leeds covered his smile with his hand. Peter's eyes darted around the room.

"Umm, because I'm really tired?" he smiled for a moment, but upon seeing the venom in his teacher's eyes, his face fell. "Sorry, Ms, it won't happen again."

"That's what I want to hear. I know it's the last period on a Monday but try to keep it together people. Now, in light of recent events, class, I thought it would be an appropriate time to go over the Mutant Rights Movements of the 70s and 80s."

Liz Allen groaned. Mrs Walters spun round to face her. "Problem, Ms Allen? After your test results, last semester, anyone would have thought you would want to have a little bit of revision."

Liz slumped back in her seat. "It just all so boring, that's all."

"I hardly think the rise of a new species of human, and their fight for their rights is boring, Ms Allen."

Kong piped up from the back of the classroom. "Mutants aren't really humans, though, are they, Mrs?"

The class swivelled round to look at him, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in disgust. "What makes you say that, Mr Kong?"

Kong fidgeted with his pen for a moment, before looking up at Mrs Walters. "My dad says mutants aren't really humans, cause they're a whole different species and stuff." The class groaned.

"Well, Mr Kong, while that could be considered true, most scientists agree that Homo- ", Flash snickered. "Quiet, Mr Thompson. Most scientists agree that Homo Superior is simply an offshoot of Homo Sapiens."

Kong scratched his head, and Mrs Walters sighed. "Humans, Mr Kong."

The class snickered.

"Anyway. We believe that the Mutant race has been around for hundreds of years but in minuscule numbers, maybe not even in the three figures range. However, at the beginning of the 20th Century, the number of mutants began to rise, and following World War 2, the mutant birth rate skyrocketed. The mutant phenomena first came to government attention under Roosevelt, after a baby born near a nuclear test site was blue. He ordered it suppressed, and the child was raised in government isolation. In 1959, President Eisenhower ordered the CIA to investigate mutant actions, in relation to missing Nazi War Criminals. Who did the CIA hire to help with this?"

Ned stuck up his hand. Mrs Walters nodded at him. "Charles Xavier." Ned offered, half-heartedly

"Good guess, but no. Anyone else?" No one put their hands up, Peter's eyes were closed, and his head rested on his hand.

"The CIA hired Erik Lensherr to help them track down missing Nazi War Criminals as part of Operation Paperclip. Since none of you seems to remember any of this, you can take notes. Make a timeline." The class groaned. "Stop whining, it will help with your revision. So, 1959, Erik Lensherr, Holocaust Survivor, better known to us as Magneto, is hired by the CIA. In 1962, he was joined there by who, at which president's request?" No one in the class moved, as Mrs Walters' eyes roamed the room. She smiled at Liz Allen. "Mrs Allen, would you like to answer the question?"

Liz panicked. "Um, Charles Xavier, and LBJ?" Flash and his friends burst out laughing before Mrs Walters shot them a look. "Well, that's half right, my dear, Professor Charles Xavier did join the CIA, but at Kennedy's request. LBJ wasn't president for another full year, 1963. At the time, Xavier was recruited, he was not known to be a mutant, but he had just become the world's foremost authority on the subject, having written three papers on the "possibility" of a new race of humans, and what possible abilities they might develop. He and Lensherr worked together extensively at the CIA, eventually forming the X-Men, a special ops organisation, to deal with the Cuban Missile Crisis later that year. Tell me, who were the X-Men?"

Harry's hand shot up. Mrs Walters beamed. "Mr Osbourne wants to answer a question! Hallelujah. Go ahead."

"Professor X. Magneto. Mystique. Destiny. And Azazel." Harry rattled them off like a machine gun.

"Well remembered, Harry. Everyone note that down. Now the X-Men operated from the years 1962 to 1968 when Richard Nixon shut the operation down. The president never felt comfortable with Mutants when he was in Eisenhower's government, and he refused to work with them in his administration. Charles Xavier returned to previous work as a Professor of Biology and Genetics at NYU, and Erik Lensherr," Mrs Walters picked up a ruler and rapped it against Peter's desk, and he jumped awake," Mr Parker, Erik Lensherr and the rest of the X-Men began to take a more active hand in shaping the mutant community's future. They became the terrorist organisation known as what, Mr Osbourne?"

"The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants?" Harry offered.

"Just the Brotherhood of Mutants, Harry, please don't write evil mutants in your exam. Yes, the Brotherhood was formed in what year, Mr Thompson?"

"1973, Mrs Walters" Flash smirked as he answered, tossing a look back a Peter, who was starting to drift off again.

"Wrong, Mr Thompson. It was 1970. Now, who can tell me about their activities in the 70s?" Harry stuck up his hand. "Someone other than Mr Osbourne?"

Michelle stuck up her hand. "In 1971, the Brotherhood performed a series of raids on US military camps in Vietnam, where the government was said to be holding mutants, and experimenting on them, and across Eastern Europe. They assassinated the Premier of Latveria and helped overthrow the government of Al-Mazahmiya, plunging the country into a civil war, that only ended when President Ellis intervened in 2014. They acted against countries and governments they saw as being anti-mutant. Then, they attacked the Paris Peace Conference."

"Thank you, Mrs Rodriguez, I'll take it from here. The Paris Peace Conference, as you will remember from our study of Vietnam, was where the final peace treaties of the Vietnam War were meant to be signed. However, it was also an emergency meeting, called by President Nixon, for the world powers to discuss the mutant issue. Magneto, through friends in the government, caught wind of the meeting, and with the Brotherhood, ambushed the ambassadors at the meeting, and laid out his list of demands for mutant kind. When he was refused, he decided to opt for a more confrontational approach. Now, the second battle of Washington DC. Magneto attacks the White House with the intention of forcing President Nixon's hand on Mutant Issues, but he was rebuffed by?" Mrs Walters looked around the room. Peter's hand stood alone in the air.

"The X-Men. This was the first time mutants were exposed to the public and-," The bell rang. Liz Allen sighed with relief.

Mrs Walters sighed. "Alright, everyone, remember that your 20-marker essay on the impact of the race to develop super-soldiers had on the Cold War, and do not forget that you have a test on Latveria post World War Two." Most of the class had already scurried out of the door by the time she added, "We'll pick this up tomorrow."

Peter, Harry, and Ned lingered at their desks for a few moments, waiting for their classmates to move on, before following them out the door.

"Alright. Magneto vs Captain-," Harry started.

"Magneto wins easy. Come on Harry, that one wasn't even hard." Ned cut him off before Harry could plunge into his full speech.

"No, listen, just hear me out. Magneto vs Captain America with Thor's hammer." Harry grinned like he had just invented the light bulb.

Peter and Ned exchanged looks.

"Thor's hammer is still metal, Magneto wins, right?" Peter mused.

Harry shook his head. "It's magic. Magic trumps Magnetism. If Cap can wield the Hammer, he wins easy."

Ned tilted his head. "Not if Magneto is near literally any other metal. Cap has to use a weapon, all Magneto has to do is wave his hand, and Cap's dead."

"You're oversimplifying." Harry insisted. "Cap's trained soldier. He has the shield; he has the hammer. Magneto is one old man- "

"If he has the shield with him, can't Magneto just use it to block the Hammer?" Peter interrupted.

"Shit," Harry muttered. Ned and Peter began to laugh. He cast an accusatory finger at them. "Don't laugh too hard. Magneto would cream your precious Iron Man too. Worse even." He rolled his eyes when he said the words Iron Man.

Peter noticed. "Oh, my God, you're not still hung up on that, are you? Harry, no one wants to hear it."

"Oh, come on. I just don't get why you like the guy some much. I mean, he destroyed the Avengers!"

"He rebuilt the Avengers," Ned responded wearily. "Didn't you see the press conference yesterday. Captain America is the one who got the hell out of dodge."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Captain America took a principled stand against an illegitimate law. Stark was the military's puppet, betrayed the Captain, and was rewarded with the Avengers. Stark is the only one who needs to be held to account after Ultron, not the actual heroes on the Avengers. Stark- "

Peter groaned. "Is the font of all evil in this world. Yes, Osborne, we get it. You know, weren't you Iron Man's biggest fan only like a year ago?"

Harry growled. "Then he created a monster and drove Captain America away with those dumbass accords. This mess," Harry waved his hands around, "is all his fault."

Peter looked around. "Harry, you can blame Tony Stark for many things, but Midtown High works hard to suck all on its own. Don't take that away from it." Peter's phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, and the screen now sported the image of a spider symbol. "You guys go ahead; I have to take this."

Harry and Ned exchanged looks. "We'll meet you at Harry's, right?" Ned asked.

"Sure, Sure. I won't be long." Peter waved them off, and the two of them walked away muttering to themselves.

"Hello? Mr Stark?" Peter immediately picked up the form.

"Peter. You need a ride?"

A sleek black limousine pulled up next to Peter, and the window rolled down. Mr Stark stuck his head of the window.

"Hey, Kid."

"Mr Stark." Peter looked slightly bemused for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "Are you tracking me?"

"Um, yeah. Kid, everything on your phone is tracking you. Try turning off your GPS sometimes. Listen, I was on my way downtown and thought I would swing by to," he pulled his sunglasses, "Catch up."

Peter fiddled with his hands. "Um, okay, yeah. That sounds good."

A moment passed.

"You need to get into the car, Spidey."

"Right! Right." Peter clambered into the car

Compared to the everything else he owned the inside of Stark's Limousine could almost be called minimalist. Abandoning its owner's favoured bright colour schemes and crème furnishings, the limousine was a crisp black, with sleek leather seats. Peter admired the sleek style as he sat down opposite Mr Stark, who offered him a can of coke.

"It's good to see you again, Kid. Happy tells me you're doing good work."

Peter suppressed a grin. "I thought he was ignoring my messages."

"Happy's more of the strong, silent type. Not a great texter."

Happy grunted from the driver's seat.

"No offence, Buddy," Tony added. Happy just scrolled up the separating screen. "He's not in a very good mood today."

Peter blinked. "He has good moods?"

"I can still hear you, Spider-baby." Happy's voice buzzed in from the intercom.

"Sorry."

"You better be."

"Now," Tony cut them off. "No fighting you two or you'll both have to go sit in the corner and have a time out."

Happy scoffed and Peter cracked open the Coke and took a long sip

"I saw the press conference." Peter blurted out.

"And?"

"Are you really going to try and arrest Captain America? I know we all fought, but the Captain's on our side, right?"

"Kid, do yourself a favour. Don't think about Captain America. Leave that to me. I came here to talk about you."

Peter blinked. "Me?" He pointed to himself. "Is this about me joining the Avengers?" His voice got more excited. "Mr Stark, I promise you I won't let you down- "

Mr Stark held his hands out. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Spidey. You can stay a Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man for now. No, it's about the Accords."

Peter tensed. When Tony had first recruited Peter for the Airport fight, Peter had known about the Accords, but not much. Since the Civil War, a movement had been growing in America to create a home version of the Accords, and while Peter could understand trying to get the Avengers to follow the rules, the new Accords would simply track anybody with powers, even if they had never used them. They would have to give their identities over to the government, and Peter liked his secret identity.

"You were recorded fighting alongside the Avengers in Germany. The UN Sokovia Accords Council was extremely interested when you didn't turn up yesterday. They wanted you to sign the Accords. Luckily for you, thanks to your status as a minor T'Challa and I managed a workaround; you won't have to sign the Accords, yet. Don't worry. However, it will mean that you can't join the Avengers officially or take any missions that take you out of the US without the explicit consent of every member of the council. You'll still be allowed to operate in the City, I got the Mayor's backing for that, and you'll still be reporting to Happy." Peter blinked at him, and Tony sighed. "It's not a big thing, just send me a report once in a while, tell me how your days were gone." Peter nodded at that. This was a proposal he could work with.

"So, do I need to sign anything?" Peter asked.

"I'll send you the paperwork in a couple of days, you can read through it and get it back to me." Tony's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, flicked through his messages and smiled, then turned back to Peter. "Listen, Kid, I gotta get to a meeting, so Happy will drop you off. Anywhere you want to go?"

Peter shook his head. "Just here's fine. It'll look weird if I turned up at Harry's place in a Limousine."

"Alright. Just… don't do anything I wouldn't do. And don't do anything I would do." Peter scratched his head, so Tony clarified, "There's a tiny grey area there, and that's where you operate." Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, who returned the action. "No, I was just opening the door, kid. Get outta here."

"See ya, Mr Stark." Peter climbed out of the limousine and watched it drive away.

"A school?" Dr John Grey stared at Elaine Grey like she had grown a second head.

"A special one." Elaine finished her glass of Scotch and poured herself another. It was her fifth tonight. Jean had counted.

"A special school? For god's sake, Elaine, the girl's not special needs- "

"Then what do you suggest she is? She is not normal. She needs to be with her own kind."

"Her own kind?" John said it as if it was a question, but it felt like an arrow.

"Yes, John, her kind." Elaine stood firm. "She is a mutant. She's not like us."

"You've lost it, Ellie. You've finally gone around the bend." John shook his head.

"Real nice, John. You don't know what it's been like because while I have been trying to take care of our daughter, what have you been doing? Sleeping with every woman in your office, taking your whores up and down the country- "Elaine slurred.

"Jesus Christ, Ellie" John snapped, "What has gotten into you?"

"Being a parent, Johnny! Maybe you'll want to try it sometime." Elaine snapped back

"Being a parent? Is that what you call being on your 4th drink tonight?" John stared her down. 5th drink, Jean said to herself. "You're setting a great example for our daughter."

Elaine slapped him. And then she left.

John Grey sat there, rubbing his face, staring in the direction of his wife. Jean could feel the sadness and anger burning inside him. He sighed.

"You can come down now, Jean."

She shuffled out of her hiding spot and walked down the stairs to her father. She winced when she was the vicious red mark across his face. She grabbed a pack of peas from the freezer and held it to his face.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Jean," John said. He gently pulled the peas from her hand.

"Don't worry," Jean shrugged, "I've seen worse."

"I'm sorry about that too." He sighed and slumped down in his chair. He'd been doing that a lot more often since Jean's powers arrived. "Tell me about this school."

"It's a place for mutants to learn how to control their powers, run by Charles –." Jean started to list off everything she knew.

"Yes, I've read the brochure. And I'm familiar with the work of Charles Xavier." John looked at her inquisitively. "Do you think you would be happy?"

It occurred to Jean that her parents had never asked her that. In the Grey household, there was not a high premium placed on happiness. Happiness, as Elaine Grey liked to say, is a side effect of doing everything else properly. It was not a suitable goal. Jean Grey had spent her whole life in a rush of music lessons and dance classes and sporting events and academic enrichments, not because they were fun, but because they made her better prospect for universities.

Would that school make her happy?

Jean Grey had spent her life fitting in. Her parents had receipts to prove it; she had always been in the latest styles, owned the latest tech, gotten into the hottest events. Well, what a 15-year-old considered the hottest events. She had aspired to be the ultimate in suburban basicness, where the only reason to stand out was being you were so successful at fitting in. She didn't fit in anymore. It was bad enough when people thought she was simply going crazy; then they had pitied her. Now she was a mutant, they feared her.

It would be nice, Jean thought, to fit in again.

"I think it would, Daddy." Said Jean. "I really think it would." She started to cry. She hadn't even noticed she was sad. Her father started to tear up.

John Grey hugged his daughter for the first time in a long time and he didn't let go.

The first thing any prospective student of the Xavier Academy sees is a wall. The Xavier estate was renown, as far as any estate can be renown, for being reclusive. The 15-foot wall that surrounded the vast expanse of Xavier land was topped with electrified razor wire, security cameras, and a rather lovely mural next to the lake. If one dared to cross through the great gates, they would be met with a long winding driveway, leading up to the grandest mansion in all of New York state. Almost certainly the most magnificent on all of the East Coast.

Standing and sitting by the front door was the welcome committee. Charles Xavier sat in front, with Hank McCoy behind him. Next to him was a cute brunette boy with the reddest pair of sunglasses Jean had ever seen.

"Welcome, Ms Grey," Charles said in his kindly lilt. "And it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Grey."

"It's nice to finally talk in person, Professor Xavier," said John, his eyes wandering around the grounds. "I must say, the site is a lot more…impressive than I was expecting. You can afford all this just off of state funds?"

"We have a variety of donors. And the land itself belongs to me. I have had many great fortunes in my life. My financial fortune is one of the few I can share."

"How generous of you," John said, still looking around. "I still have some details I want to get straight."

"Of course. Mr Grey, how about we leave Jean to get acclimated while we go talk business in my office? Scott," the professor turned to Sunglasses, "would you be so kind as to give Jean the full tour?"

Sunglasses nodded.

He doesn't talk much, Jean noted.

"He's on his best behaviour, give him some time," the professor thought back at her.

"Are you going to be listening to my thoughts all the time?"

"Only when you yell them," the professor emoted a wry amusement at her.

"Of course, of course," her father said. "Jeanie, you happy?"

"I'll be fine, dad." She glanced at Sunglasses. "A tour sounds nice." Sunglasses smiled back at her.

"Wonderful," the Professor clapped his hands, "Mr Grey, let us take our leave. I find young people would rather spend time listening to each other, rather than to two old men discussing admin." The professor powered away with John, leaving Jean alone with cute Sunglasses boy.

"I'm Scott. But you already knew that." He stuck out a hand.

She took it. "I'm Jean. It's nice to meet you." They smiled at one another.

"Welcome to Xavier's Institute for gifted youngsters, Jean. Where do you want to start? We could take a walk around the grounds, visit the dorms, check out the classrooms." He looked at her.

"I've been stuck in the car for the last 4 hours. I could do with a walk.

The grounds of Xavier's School were less a garden, and more a national park. The land stretched out for what seemed like forever, and the edge was bordered by thick forest. Jean felt like she had stepped out of New York and wandered into Hogwarts or Narnia. Scott told Jean that a full tour would take more than a day, but he took her around the sports fields.

"Are there any other students here?" she asked Scott as they headed back towards the institute.

"Trust me, you'll meet the rest of the inmates soon enough. It seems they've decided to take the day off from being a pain in my ass."

"You wound me, Summers." Someone said. "I never take a day off."

Jean looked up and gasped.

Above her flew an Angel, with golden locks of hair, a face crafted by Michelangelo, and a wardrobe provided by Gucci.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Jean, meet the Pigeon man. Worthington meet Jean. She's new."

"I figured. I'm rich, not stupid."

"There's a difference?"

"Hi," Jean murmured.

"Welcome to Xavier's School for misfit freaks. I'm sure you won't fit in." Warren turned to Scott. "How come you always get stuck on Newbie duty?"

"I'm sure the Professor's just intimidated by your charm, Worthington," Scott replied. "Shouldn't you be doing something? Stealing from orphans? Mocking Veterans? Pooping on cars?"

"I like to leave those to you, Summers," he said before the two smiled at one another. "I'm thinking of hitting the town later, you interested?"

Scott pointed at Jean. "Some of us actually have responsibilities."

"Bummer," said Warren. He put on a pair of sunglasses. "Ciao." And he flew away, with his big, beautiful wings.

"Wow," was all Jean could say.

"Watch out," advised Scott, "he might poop on your head."

"The Kitchen. Feel free to eat anything that isn't labelled, or bring your own food in. We don't have catering, but we do have a cooking rota, so one of us cooks the meals every day- "

BAMF!

Jean coughed as she was engulfed by a sudden cloud of sulphur. She waved the out of her face, and then she was it.

A blue, furry demon, straight from the book of revelations, dandled from the ceiling light, holding two strawberry juice pops.

"Hullo. You must be the new student," it said. "Juice pop?"

Jean screamed.

"Jean, this is Kurt," Scott said, utterly unbothered by the manifestation of hell that had appeared before them. It waved.

"Kurt, would you mind?" Scott tilted his head towards Jean.

The creature BAMFed away, before popping onto the kitchen table behind them.

"Better?" it offered.

"Much," said Scott

"Are you…are you a student here?" Jean stammered.

"Nominally," it answered, smiling.

"We keep the juice pop stealing demon monkey around for our amusement." Scott might have rolled his eyes, but Jean couldn't see.

The creature called Kurt wacked Scott with its tail.

"I'm not stealing. I'm owed these juice pops."

"I'm not sure O will see it that way."

"Who's going to tell her?" The Kurt Creature gave Jean a sly look.

"I think," suggested Scott, "that when she opens the box, and all that's left is blue fur, she might have some ideas."

"She could never catch me," Kurt declared. "I am vhe Incredible Nightcrawler."

"You're blue!" Jean blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer.

"WHAT?" Kurt jumped off the table. He looked down at his hands, which Jean realised only had two fingers and a thumb. He turned to Scott. "I'm blue! When did this happen?"

Scott struggled with a smile. "I don't know. Everything just looks red to me. I did think the tail was weird though."

"TAIL! OH MEIN GHOTT-, "

"Okay, I get. I was just asking," Jean groused.

Kurt and Scott laughed. "Sorry, mein freund. I haven't had a chance to do that in a while. I don't meet many new people."

"I'm sorry, I just… This is weird to me, okay? I've only met three other mutants, and they both looked more…"

"Human?" Scott finished her sentence. Jean blushed

"Haven't you met Dr McCoy?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, but he was, different."

"Because he has all his fingers and no tail?" Kurt shook his head. "When will the digit discrimination end?"

Jean giggled again. Kurt grinned back.

"KURT WAGNER!" A voice bellowed.

"I think I should go now," murmured Kurt. Before Jean could ask why he bamfed away.

The temperature of the room changed. Frost coated the walls. Wind beat against the windows. The door burst open. A tall, lithe black girl, with a long, stark white hair stormed into the kitchen, sparks twirling around her fingers.

"Where are my juice pops, Kurt Wagner? WHERE ARE THEY?" she boomed before she saw Jean and Scott, and her face immediately softened.

Oh, hello Scott. Who this?" She smiled at Jean.

"Ororo, this is Jean, the new student. Jean, this is Ororo."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jean," Jean didn't realise a person's voice could be so smooth. "I can just feel that you're going to be a fantastic addition to our school."

"It's nice to meet you too." Jean blushed.

"It will be nice to have more girls around the Institute." Storm hugged her. "We shall be friends."

"I think I would like that." Jean murmured.

"I would love to have a proper introduction, but first, I must find a thief," Ororo smiled at her apologetically, then turned to Scott. "Have you seen the Gremlin?"

"No, but I will admit, the shades don't help."

Ororo sighed and ran out of the kitchen.

"Let's go outside again," Scott decided.

"The forest is probably my second favourite place here." Scott sat at the foot of the tree.

"What's your first?" Jean ran her hands through the soft leaves.

"You'll see soon enough." Sunlight glinted off Scott's sunglasses.

"Alright, keep your secrets." Jean turned away from him.

"Wasn't aware I was keeping secrets. Thought it was just the one."

"You still haven't told me why you wear those sunglasses everywhere. Unless you're just the kind of douchebag who wears sunglasses indoors, and I need to go get a new tour guide."

Scott looked at her, tilted his head slightly and sighed. "Stand behind me."

He turned to face the tree, with Jean a little bit behind him and whisked off his sunglasses. A burst of red streamed out of his eyes and blasted through the tree. Scott quickly whipped his sunglasses back.

"I keep my glasses on to prevent that. Any questions?"

"Hundreds," said Jean, but before she could ask, a voice reached out.

"If you're quite done destroying my property, Scott, could you please bring Jean back to the main building and show her to her room?"

"Does he do that a lot?" Jean asked.

"You have no idea."

There were so many empty rooms in the Mansion that Scott told Jean she could have any she wanted, but when they arrived, they found that the Professor and Jean's father had already picked a room for her, and started unpacking her stuff.

"I apologise for pre-empting your choice, Jean, but I know how lonely this mansion can be. There's another girl on this row, with similar powers to yours. I hope the two of you can be friends." The Professor gave her another one of his kind smiles.

"This place is nice, Jeanie. Much better than the boarding schools my parents sent me to. We didn't get our own rooms, and even the doubles weren't this big." John said admiringly. "Hell, it's probably better than what we have at home."

"Maybe," admitted Jean. "It's okay, Dad, I can finish unpacking by myself. I know you need to start heading home."

"I get it. You're a big girl now, don't need your old man hanging around." He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jean saved his dignity by giving him a hug. He held her, whispered "I love you" in her ear, and slipped out of the room, and back to his car.

Jean was stuck now.

The professor could clearly hear what she was thinking but chose not to comment. He turned his chair to face Scott. "Perhaps Ms Grey would like a moment alone to unpack before dinner, Scott." Then he wheeled himself out.

"I'll come back and get you when dinner's ready." Scott smiled at her. "You're going to be fine." And then he was gone.

Jean sat on her double bed, closed her eyes, and cried, as all the weight of her decision finally hit her. She had left her home, her old life, and come to a whole new world that she knew nothing about, and she hadn't even thought it through. What was she doing?

"Your emotions are so loud." A smirking voice noted.

Jean sprang upright and opened her eyes. Standing at the door, smirking at her, like something out of Jean's nightmares, stood a tall blond, in a white crop top and matching miniskirt.

"Lesson one of living with telepaths; feel quieter, unless you want us to know everything about you."

Jean pulled herself out of her reprieve. "Sorry, I'll work on that. I'm- "

"Jean Grey. I know, I heard. I'm Emma Frost," she said like Jean should kiss her ring. "I live next door. Don't make me come other here again, I have actual work to attend to."

And then she disappeared.

Jean slumped down again. This is going to be fun.

The rain wouldn't stop.

It had started the morning they had their first meeting in the city, and it hadn't let up since. His more superstitious followers believed it was a dark omen, but the Reverend had dismissed it out of hand. God did not trifle with omens like rain. And besides, Rain was life bringing; if God was sending the rain, it should be received as a blessing.

Life bringing as it was, it didn't improve the atmosphere of the street. The rain only

The people were gathering. Through the rain, a crowd had begun form outside the doors, calling to be allowed inside. They lined the dead-end street, a parade of broken window, barricaded doors and shut up shopfronts, like a funeral conga, face after face devoid of any joy, yet each enraptured by a calling. A calling that had led them here.

In a warehouse, just outside of Detroit, the Church of Humanity had found its home.

The last few years had been good for the church. Once a small little hate group dedicated to hating a group most people had long since stopped giving a shit about, the long string of superhuman disasters had brought more and more people into the fold. Before SHIELD fell, and all its dirty little secrets were freed, all its coverups uncovered, people could believe that someone was looking out for them. Now they knew the truth; they had to look after themselves.

The reverend would have once spoken to crowds of 20, maybe 30. Today, there were over 500 people crammed into the makeshift chapel.

"What's wrong with this country?" The Reverend spoke, looking past the audience. "We used to be great. We used to be the most respected nation in the world. People looked to us for leadership, real, moral leadership. But look at us now! We have a president that endorses same-sex marriage, who cavorts with whoremongers like Tony Stark, who defends the mutants that threaten the lives of all decent Americans. We have been abandoned by those in power. This is where we are now: led by moral failures, bowing before degenerates and freaks."

"We are a condemned people," the Reverend spoke quietly, but he got louder and angrier with each word. "We have abandoned our morality, walked away from God's light. We are entering the final chapter of the story, and we have given up the fight. We are sleepwalking into disaster, and if we don't act, we're done for!

So, the question is, what are you going to do about it?" Reverend Stryker finally met the crowd's eyes.

Graydon Creed met the Reverend's eye. And Graydon Creed knew what he had to do.

God help us.

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