CHAPTER 1:

The wind was so heavy it rattled the windows. Dry leaves and twigs collided with Charles Xavier's black Bently town car, carried by the gust. Inside, Xavier sat watching the people of Omaha go about their daily lives. 'They have no clue,' he thought. 'What that boy could have done...'

Next to him, his close friend and colleague Moira Mac-taggert, a brunette woman in her early thirties, was reading through a collection of files and reports from a manilla folder. "It's quite worrying Charles," she said in a thick Scottish accent, giving away her heritage. "Eighty-seven thousand dollars in damage...a half dozen police men in hospital. This could be very bad for your cause."

"It could, Moira," Xavier replied, not turning from his window. "Or it could show that our kind can learn to control our gifts. If I can convince this young man to join us at my home and help him to control his gift, he could be a poster child for our cause...proof we're not to be feared."

Moira shook her head slightly, and slid the files and reports back into the folder. After a moment, she opened her mouth to speak, but her friend cut her off. "Yes, I'm sure Senator Kelly will try to turn this in his favour, but I have my hopes that the public will see it my way."

Moira closed her mouth and shook her head, smiling. "You've always put to much faith in hope, Charles."

"Perhaps," the bald man replied, finally turning to his cohort. "But without faith, the world would have failed eons ago."

Their car pulled up outside a grey, two-storied building. The word POLICE was emblazoned above a set of double doors out front. The driver climbed out and opened the door for Moira, then went around to the trunk, opened it, and retrieved a gleaming silver wheelchair, setting it up outside Xavier's side. Charles opened the door himself, then with the aid of his driver, managed to get himself into the wheelchair. "Shall we?," he grinned to Moira, his dark blue eyes gleaming brightly. He, his driver and Moira traversed the path to the double doors, which opened automatically for them as they approached.

Inside, they were greeted by a short officer with bags under his eyes and heavy stubble on his chin. "Professor Xavier?," he said as they came in. Xavier offered the officer his hand, which the man took and shook happily.

"Sheriff Bourne, this is a colleague of mine, Dr. Moira Mac-taggert," The sheriff and Mac-taggert shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. "How's our friend?," Sheriff Bourne gestured for them to follow him towards a secured door.

"He's hardly eaten since we brought him in," Bourne entered a keycode into a pad next to the doorway. A buzz came over the intercom and the door unlatched. "None of my officers have the nerves to get in there and talk to him. They're all scared he'll blast them into next week." They went down the hallway and turned left. A series of empty cells swam past them as they walked.

"Why are they all empty?," Mac-taggert asked, eyeing the empty cells with curiosity in her eyes.

"Safety," Bourne replied casually. "The higher ups don't want any criminals having holes blown through them. The paper work is far to tedious."

They stopped at the very last cell. Inside, the saw a young man sitting at a desk, facing the only window in the otherwise empty cell. "He won't turn away from it," Bourne leant in and whispered to Mac-taggert. "Says he's scared he'll hurt someone if he does."

"I think that fact is enough to prove he isn't doing this intentionally," Xavier said, a slight tone of annoyance in his voice. It wasn't the Sheriff's fault he was so ignorant, Charles knew that, the world didn't know enough about the situation to not be scared of his kind, but the arrogance of some people often made Charles twitch. "May I go in?,"

Bourne nodded, slipped a ring of iron keys from his belt, fumbled with them for a moment, then found the one he wanted and slid it into the lock. The sheriff slid the barred gate across and moved to let Xavier and his wheelchair pass. Bourne went to follow him, but Xavier raised his hand, stopping the sheriff midstep. "If it's alright Sheriff, I'd like to talk to him alone."

Bourne looked as if he was about to protest, but stood back. "Fair enough. I'd rather be as far away from him as possible anyways,"

Xavier's driver pushed his chair up until he sat even with the young man, who didn't turn his head. He just sat there, his eyes clenched shut, facing the pale sunlight creeping in through the window. "Hello Scott,"

The boy didn't answer, nor did he make any indication that he was paying attention. "My name is Charles Xavier, and I'd here to talk to you about your incident."

"Incident?," the boy scoffed, his eyes still closed. "I nearly destroyed half a city block." Charles could see on the boy's face that he was furious with himself. An understandable reaction, considering the circumstances.

"True, but no one got seriously hurt, did they?. The worst damage you caused was a few broken bones and a punctured lung."

"A punctured lung?," Scott snapped. "That sounds pretty serious to me."

Xavier nodded, then turned to face out the window again. "A punctured lung may seem fatal, but it's actual quite a common occurence for those in car crashes or even a bad fall. Either way, no one has died, have they?. The city can rebuild, they have the money to do so..."

"Why are you here?," the teen cut in. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm here to offer you a place at my home. I'd like to work with you, to help you learn to control your gift and prevent another incident like this."

"Gift?," Scott snapped, turning for the first time to face Xavier, his eyes still closed. Charles could see a bright red haze glowing through the skin of his eyelids, which grew brighter and brighter with each passing second. "What the hell kind of gift is this?...Every time I open my eyes, I shoot massive laser beams that can punch a hole through a building! tell me, in what way do you think this is a damn gift?"

Bourne went to enter the cell, but Mac-taggert stopped him. "Let him do his work," she whispered in her thick Scotch brogue.

Xavier sighed internally. He'd have to pull out the big guns. 'Scott...' he didn't open his mouth, didn't pronounce the word, yet somehow, Scott heard his name in his head. 'Did you think you were the only one with an ability?'

"H-how are you doing that?" Scott said, reaching out to touch Xavier's face.

'We are what I've come to call mutants,' Xavier said without speaking again. Scott lowered his hand when he realised that it really was happening, that Xavier was speaking to him without opening his mouth. 'It comes from an evolved gene in our DNA that sets us apart from other humans.'

Scott was speechless. He just sat there, his mouth hanging open, his eyes still closed. "I-I don't know what to say,"

"You don't have to say anything," Xavier spoke again, this time normally. "But I'd be honoured if you'll join me at my home."

Scott thought for a second, letting the information he'd just learned swim through his head. "How do you know you can help me?"

Moira entered the cell. "My name is Moira Mac-taggert, I've studied the police footage of your incident and discoved that these might help," she reached into the pocket of her suit jacket and retrieved a leather glasses case. Snapping it open, she pulled out a pair of custom Aviator sunglasses with red crystal lenses. "Here,"

She handed them to the teen, who ran his fingers over them for a moment. "Sunglasses?," he scoffed again. "Seriously?, you think a pair of sunglasses is going to stop two laser beams that can break rock?,"

"The lenses are made from carved rubies, Scott," Xavier said. "If Moira's deductions are correct, and they usually are, then they should counter act the projection of energy and nullify your eyeblasts."

"I don't want to risk it in here," Scott said after a moment of deliberation. "Sheriff, can I go to the roof?," Bourne looked at the teen, then to Xavier, who nodded.

"Very well, come this way."

Moira took Scott's hand, and Xavier's driver took reign of his chair, and the four of them followed the Sheriff down the lane of cells to an elevator, which took them up the two floors to the roof.

"Go on Scott," Xavier said as the elevator door opened. Moira let go of the teen's hand and they stood back and watched him walkout into the sunlight, where he pulled the glasses over his eyes.

"Are you sure this will work?," Scott called over the rooftop.

"I'm sure Scott, just have faith."

The teen turned away from them, then looked up towards the sky, slowly opening his eyes. He could feel the energy behind his eyes try to force it's way out, but the glasses held, and, instead of bright red light destroying everything in sight, Scott was met with a red tinted view of the world. "It works!," he laughed, happy for the first time in quite a while.

'Now Scott,' Xavier's voice invaded his head again. 'How would you like to join me at my home?...'

Scott turned to face the four adults, and smiled. "I'd love too."