All characters belong to Marvel

The sun was just beginning to rise over Salem, New York. A deep red shone in the windows of the expensive houses that lined the road. No one was awake just yet. The wealthy inhabitants still fast asleep, dreaming and forgetting their own problems. Every now and then a gust of wind would blow a pile of fallen leaves across the street. It was nearly September. The air was silent, no sounds but the twittering of birds in the air. Soon the silence was broken by the rev of a cab coming up the street. It turned sharply to the left of the road, now climbing up a long driveway lined with silver birch trees.

The inhabitants of the taxi were two very different people, the driver and his sleeping passenger. There was nothing particularly interesting about this. Or at least, you would think so if you did not see the passenger. He was a young man, no older than 25. He lay back in the seat of the cab, his head lopped to one side facing the window. He was thin, with long, jet-black hair, yet streaked with silver starting at both temples and finishing at the tips of the ponytail he had tied his hair back in. One suitcase rested on the seat next to him, in the back of the cab was his other suitcase and a small chest filled with books. He liked to read. Slowly he stirred and woke up, removing the amber shades he had been wearing to rub the sleep from his eyes.

He looked up and caught his reflection in the overhead mirror of the car. A pair of bright blue eyes shone back at him in the reflection. He smiled and straightened himself in his seat, before leaning forward towards the driver. "How much further is it?" he asked.

"Not far." said the driver, putting out a cigarette he had been previously smoking, "But I ain't sure what you would be doin' in a place like that."

"Funny you should ask." said the passenger, leaning back in his seat. "I was a student there, and now I'm returning to work full time as a teacher."

"Oh!" said the cab driver, smirking at the passenger through the overhead mirror, "You're one of them, are ya?"

"Yes I am," replied the passenger, reclining in his seat, "Is that a problem?"

"Nah, not at all." replied the driver, "Just I don't get many customers who are, that's all. Well, here we are."

The passenger leaned out of the window. He saw a large mansion before him, with great stained glass windows, large oak front doors, and lined all around with hedgerows. A large brass plague hung above the door in pride of place. Upon it were written in gilded letters the words "Xavier's Institute of Highly Learning for Gifted Youngsters." It had been years since the passenger had ever stepped into this place, not since he left for college, but now he was back, and it felt like home to him after all these years. He got out the cab, looking over every part of the house that felt familiar to him. He notice the balcony above the doors with large French windows. The Professor's office. That's where he had met him years ago. He had been fourteen at the time, living in Quebec. Not long after, a man named Charles Xavier entered his life and he learned just how powerful being a mutant can be. He thought back to that day he learned of his power from Xavier.

"How come we don't use our powers to become stronger than humans? With powers like ours, we could stop people treating us like dirt."

"Because that is not how things are, my lad. We want humans to accept us, not fear us. Fear and acceptance are two very different things, and we must strive to obtain that which we need most of all."

"What makes you think there aren't mutants who do think like that though? That fear is the key to ending all this hate?"

"But I do. I know many mutants who seek to control or even destroy the human race. My best friend, Eric, is one of those people."

"You're joking!"

"I'm not. Eric Lehnsherr was my close friend. We founded this institute together. However, things took a turn for the worst. Our opposing ideals on how mutants should live in our society tore us apart. The school was split in two, and Eric led a new brotherhood of mutants against the human race as the mutant terrorist known as Magneto."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't…"

"That's all right, lad. How could you have known? Now rest. You've had a long journey, and tomorrow you start learning what it truly means to be a mutant."

What it truly means to be a mutant. Those words had stuck with him all his life and he never forgot them. He paid for the cab ride and dragged his luggage up to the door. He rang on the doorbell next to an intercom on the right doorpost. After about twenty minutes of ringing, the intercom was answered. "Hello, can I help you?" came a little girl's voice from the other side of the intercom. "Hello my dear." said the man. "Could you kindly wake the Professor and tell him that Jean-Paul Beaubier is here?"