Chapter 1: Genesis pt. 2

By the time Hank entered the Xavier's office, Xavier had already collapsed on the floor, his face pale, vague, and emotionless, with three other faculty near him, one woman, and two men, one man kneeling over him, and the other two standing upright. A cup of freshly spilled tea lay next to them, still dripping from the edge of the Professor's desk, and soaking into the steaming carpet.

The one kneeling was Scott Summers, code-named Cyclops, Xavier's prime pupil, and challenged ruler of the mutant strike force, the X-Men. As Xavier's first student, Scott was a surrogate son, the first in line of many. If anything was wrong with Charles, Scott felt it was his obligation to step up and take care of things in his absence. It was because of Scott's authoritative qualities that he was placed as Xavier's right hand. Instances like this however, were an entirely different matter.

Aside from certain, restrictive qualities, Scott Summers had the look and charm of a self-made man. A proven leader, a boy scout, as some called him. Summers was clean cut, had fair lines to his face, smooth auburn hair, complete with a slight Nebraskan accent. He hid his eyes behind a pair of ruby quartz lenses, which acted as a protective shield, reinforced to deflect red, high optic beams from projecting out of his eyes. They were powerful enough to level an entire building in an instant, and were capable of melting the flesh from another person's body. Surprisingly, they had no affect on his own but they caused more pain than a standard headache.

Beside Scott, stood a slim redhead, whose hand was placed delicately on his left shoulder. Her cherry red lips, forest green eyes, and her perfectly formed figure captivated every man who set eyes on her. Only one pair of eyes stole her heart, Scott's. She dreamed of one day seeing his eyes in their natural form more than Scott desired normal sight. But her love of him was entirely pure and were perfect compliments of each other.

Like Scott before her, Jean was the child Xavier never had, and he treated her as such. Her beauty wasn't only in her appearance but in her power. She was the only class five mutant Xavier had ever encountered and he pushed her to strive for perfection. As a telepath, her powers were practically limitless and rivaled the Professor's.

On the other end of the office, Logan stood isolated, keeping a distance in his expected gruff manner, yet fully coherent and emotionally attached to the situation. His eyes never once drifted from the Professor, even if Jean Grey was in his line of vision. Her matchless beauty never went unnoticed. Logan stirred, his eyes saying what his mouth wouldn't. His right hand combed over a thread of his bang and brushed it back, exhaling silently as he did. A part of him wished he wouldn't have come to the institute for fear of endangering himself and those around him. The Professor had invited him in when he had no where else to go, when he felt stranded and lost. In some ways, he still did.

Logan excused himself, brushing Hank's shoulder as he approached, Jean's eyes following him on the way out, making it hard for Scott not to notice.

"Professor," Scott said, kneeling by his side. He placed his arms around him in attempt to lift him from the floor. Xavier's body was cold, and unresponsive.

"Don't touch him Scott" Hank began, looking over them "we don't know what his mind in this fragile state could do."

Scott removed his palm before he could touch him and stood up, making way for Hank to take his place.

"Charles, Charles can you hear me?" Hank asked.

Charles' body was limp. His face was a light shade of white, almost the color of the dress shirt under his blue jacket. Hank pressed his index and middle fingers firmly against the side of Xavier's neck, unable to find an active pulse.

"We need to get him down to medical."


Beneath the grounds of the Xavier Institute were hidden tunnels kept secret from the public eye, a subbasement built with a primary means of mutant affairs. The walls were coated with a heavily metallic substance that reflected motion from it's futuristic surface like a dyslexic mirror. One main corridor led to a series of subsequent channels and rooms, each designed for a unique purpose. An X-shaped doorway marked the entrance for every distinct room, each coated in the same reflective surface as the walls.

Inside the medical room, Xavier lay on an examination table, wired to different machines, while Beast operated the computer, looking for the reason for the manifestation resulting in Xavier's mental attack.

"It seems what Charles went through is nothing more than a mere anxiety attack" Beast calculated in a tone that made it sound he was surprised by the findings, "yet, something far more severe."

"Explain Hank" Scott said, almost harshly.

"Charles' mind is unresponsive, yet his vitals are reading normal. It appears that something is blocking us from it, like a psychic cocoon. It's quite a remarkable phenomenon."

"What kind of 'phenomenon' Hank?" Scott asked.

"For that, you'd have to ask the Professor."

Beast removed the reading glasses and held them against his thigh while he puzzled over the situation, his finger rubbing the flexed bridge of his nose in disdain. Xavier's readings were normal by comparison, but evidence did not support how or why the Professor was in a mental coma.

"It may take some time before I can find anything valuable that could lead to some sort of explanation, but for right now, I'm afraid Charles will be in this coma until his mind overcomes those physic barriers that are shielding it."

Scott turned to Jean. "Jean, you're a telepath, can't you read the Professor's mind and counteract some of those barriers?"

"Yes but Hank's right Scott, we may not know the extent of the damage. I can't just tamper with his mind without knowing what's fighting it. It could kill him."

"The best thing now," Beast interjected, "is to let the Professor rest and see if whatever's holding him at bay lets loose so we can begin to repair some of the damages."

"How long will it take, Hank?" Scott asked, looking back at the doctor, afraid of the answer.

"With a mind like Charles', it's far too soon to tell. No discernible fraction of time exists. It may take days, weeks, even. All I know is that without further tests, we won't know the extent of the damages, if there are any."

"Great" Scott groaned. "What now? Are we supposed to sit back and do nothing?" Scott grew irritated. As calm as he tried to appear, patience was never the strongest part of his character.

"You sound like Logan" Hank mentioned.

Scott didn't realize it until he had a time to process it, but Hank was right, and the thought made him cringe. Being compared to Logan was one of the biggest insults Scott could imagine, though, he knew Beast didn't mean any harm by it. Everyone at the institute knew Logan and Scott didn't see eye to eye, and would often go out of their way to deliberately irritate the other, subtle or obvious. It made putting up with him a little easier.

"I'm sorry Hank," Scott motioned. "I'm not used to seeing the Professor so, helpless."

"Nor am I Scott," Hank said gently, placing his hand on Scott's shoulder for comfort. "Charles is strong, and you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss what he's capable."

"You're right" Scott sighed.

"I'll stay down here with Charles and run some more tests. I'll let you know the second I discover anything new about his condition."

"Thanks Hank." Scott placed his hands around Jean's shoulders and ushered her from the side of the Professor's medical bed. Jean let Scott lead her out of the room and only broke gaze with the Professor when the metallic doors shut behind them.

"You feeling okay Jean?" Scott asked, sensing something wasn't right.

"I'm worried about the Professor. I've never seen him so vulnerable, so defenseless." Scott's embrace couldn't calm her, much to her surprise. Usually all she'd need was his warmth, and his body next to hers, and everything would feel right. Not today. "Scott, I'm scared. I felt what went through the Professor's mind. It was angry, determined to cause injury, not only to humans, but mutants. Whatever happened downtown I feel is going to happen again, only I feel next time it will be worse."

Scott held her close in his arms, unable to stop the tears from wetting her face and spoke to her in almost a whisper, "Then we'll be there, to stop this from happening again." Scott wasn't so sure of himself this time. He didn't believe the words even though they came from his mouth, but he didn't show it. His strong, powerful façade kept his true feelings at bay, and even though Jean was a telepath, he trusted her enough not to pry.

Logan stood on the far side of the room, watching Scott and Jean in their private moment, the desire in his eyes never being fulfilled. He thought it was selfish, thinking only of Jean instead of focusing on the Professor's health or the events that happened downtown. He couldn't help it when she was in plain sight. Logan scoffed at the one-way conversation he was having with his interior monologue and brushed the thoughts aside for the moment in a silent snarl. It was obvious he was displeased with himself, though he would never let the others know, another mystery added to his ever-growing list.

Jean caught sight of Logan's gaze from Scott's broad shoulders. Logan pretended not to notice, but they both know he did. Logan was rugged, feral, more aggressive in appearance, attractive in a way Scott wasn't. Scott, on one other hand, was bold, with a natural complexion that was a perfect compliment to hers. Scott was the ideal choice, Logan, was an attraction purely based in fantasy, strictly primal in nature. The chemistry between the two mirrored only intimate attraction. When Jean's eyes locked with Logan's, she felt empowered, full of herself, full of energy even her telepathic powers couldn't match. Logan flexed a friendly, yet regrettable smile and Jean's heart almost caved to her inner demands. She fought herself, forcing the inappropriate thoughts from her collective conscience and focused on the man who held her close, wishing, only for a second, it was someone else.

Scott held Jean at arm's length, with her shoulders still in his hands, and met her eyes face level. He smiled before kissing her and in that instant, Jean's worries faded into her subconscious. In that moment, Jean sensed something was wrong.

"Guys," Jean said, breaking the tension, "something's happening downtown."

Scott turned the television on a news station. A female reporter stood in front of a ravaged city street looking as if it came from a post-apocalyptic movie screen. Fires raged in the background while firefighters effortlessly battled to calm the flames. Hundreds of empty and bent plastic chairs scattered the fractured cement where a risen, wooden platform was on the brink of falling into an unseen abyss. The camera paused on the reporter's face in shock, yet calm and professional enough to hardly be noticed. After a second of gathering her thoughts and maintaining a comprehension of her surroundings, she began her report. The caption read:

MURDER IN MUTANT TOWN.

"This is the scene, where just moments ago, a group of mutant protesters were murdered during an anti-mutant rally in what the mutant community refers to as Mutant Town. The assault took place only thirty minutes ago and as you can see behind me, the Mutant Responce Division are containing the remains of the outbreak. Now, the mutant victims have not been identified but it is believed the situation got out of hand when the several non-mutants who organized the rally opened fire on the mutants who began to riot. It is still unclear if the M.R.D had any involvement iin the attack. Our very own Senator Robert Kelly had this to say."

"In one of the many mutant towns in this country, the recent development in District X has just proven what I have been saying for years. Mutants present a threat not only to their own society, but also to our national security. This make-shift 'community' of theirs has long since been a source of one of the highest crime rates in all of the United States. Poverty, famine, illiteracy, these are just some of the things that mutants have burdened this society with. Until we clean up their mess, this will continue to affect how we move on to the next stage of our existence. We all know what needs to happen to prevent such disaster. Mutants need to register with the government so every non-mutant can feel safer."

The colored TV screen abruptly turned black and the only noise in the room was the silent sound of internal thought of the faculty and students watching the broadcast. Scott set the remote down on the table he sat across from him and stared blankly into the screen, his mind solely on the matter at hand. The world never seemed so bleak, and even with his eyes, a vision shaded in medium red, he wondered how the world was looking back. Scott already knew the answer. Mutants like Magneto and his Brotherhood fueled society's hateful opinions that every mutant were as harmful. It was a never ending battle that even the Professor thought at times he'd never win. In those instances sometimes Scott thought the Professor was right.

Scott rose from the couch, his rage hidden behind his ruby quartz glasses, and walked toward the nearest window, where Jean Grey had gazed out to clear her head. He placed his hand on her shoulder in such an intimate, yet social way that made her worries seem not as important. Her soft hair touching his skin made him feel the same. He admired the way her perfect being fell into his and how the smile she made when he touched her put him at ease. Scott stared ahead, to the trees that stood outside the mansion, and the blue skies that never seemed to dim, thinking how the world would be without prejudice. Being with Jean was the only form of peace he understood. Her whole being was built to withstand even the slightest form of judgment, after all, he, like her, shared a genetic mutation. Only hers was easy to hide.

"This has gone too far" Scott burst, his body gestures frantic, and his pacing sparse.

"You act like this surprises you" Jean added.

"You know, maybe Magneto's right. Maybe the only way for us to survive in this world is to fight back." Scott sighed heavily and looked down at the floor. After seconds he stared out the window where Jean was just moments ago. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to caress his tense muscles. The gentleness of her fingers eased Scott's anxiety. He turned his head and embraced Jean in an passionate kiss.

"Tell me you don't mean that."

"I don't I just...I mean, for God's sake Jean, what I am supposed to think? They came into a mutant community and gathered a mob so they could lash out against us and when we stand up for ourselves, in our home, they killed us. That's who you're defending?"

"I'm not defending them. Just calm down."

Scott sighed again, this time is was a much more casual, relaxed form of release. "You're right. You're right. The Professor wouldn't let this get to him."

"You keep talkin' like Chuck a'int around. He's not dead Summers" Logan said with his arms around his chest.

Scott moved past Jean and shorted the distance between himself and Logan until he was staring down on him. "Oh, now you've got something to say? I was beginning to think you didn't care at all Logan."

"I aint sayin' that bub. I know you can't see with your own two eyes but you should know that if didn't care I wouldn't be here. Now would I?"

"Oh, right. That explains why you leave every chance you get."

"Boys. That's enough" Jean interjected, placing herself between the two men. They didn't flinch.

Jean's telepathy could effortlessly restrain both men, that would be the easy solution. And she was tempted. One glimpse in Logan's mind and all the memories burning with anguish and torment would condemn her to sleepless nights. Even if she did, she was afraid she might like it.

"So what are you gonna do?" Logan continued, ignoring Jean's plea, "just sit her with our heads up our ass while those M.R.D bastards kill more mutants?" Logan's breath carried the stench of a fresh cigar, musty like damp urine, it lingered on him for days.

With blatant offensive, Scott remained firm, trying to forget how ignorant a man could be with such heightened senses. "No Logan, we're not," he said, his tone seasoned with a flavor of defiant intolerance.

"Well I ain't waiting around, so you better think of something, and fast. 'Cause every minute we waste, you're putting mutant lives in danger. I hope you can live with that."

"Logan's right Scott" Jean said, soft and very pronounced.

Scott's back was turned to Jean, his only response was a hard sigh masked under genuine regret, almost apologetic. Reluctantly, Scott turned toward the redhead, his brow furrowing and wearing a face of discontent. "Alright, let's move."