Chapter Thirty-seven

Camera crews were in place by eleven a.m., even though the press conference wasn't scheduled until one. The stage of the Radio City Music Hall was bare, though. Charles Xavier was sweating. God, let this be the right decision. Reporters were jamming the seats near the front by noon. The families of the X-Men were in the wings, along with the students themselves, and the Fantastic Four. Reed Richards, consulted about their decision, had agreed to introduce the press conference.

"This is a big step, Charles," he had said when he arrived at Radio City about eleven thirty.

"Don't I know it, Reed," Charles said with a sigh. "Does it meet with your approval?"

Reed smiled. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"How bad is it really going to be?" Charles asked. Reed just laughed, and shook his head. That didn't help Charles' frame of mind much. He looked over. The students had their masks off until the conference began, and Johnny Storm was talking animatedly with them. That was good-they had already gained an important friendship, in a way they never would have had they maintained their secrecy. Maybe this would work after all.

Meanwhile, Sue Storm was charming the families, especially the wives. Edna McCoy, in particular, looked as if she couldn't believe she was here speaking with the Sue Storm, and her face was radiant with delight. Ben Grimm seemed much taken with Maria, and Charles could hear some of their conversation.

"-so, kid, you're happy with this?"

"Oh, it was my idea, really, Mr Grimm."

"I'll bet it was. Lemme tell ya, Shift-"

"Oh, Maria, Mr Grimm, please."

"Maria, then. And I'm Ben, if that ain't too tough fer ya to remember. Lemme tell ya, there have been times these past few years that I've have given anything to be as secret as you guys have been. But then, I get tired of self-pity and just go on. You're gonna have ups and downs, and I mean real ones. Don't think this is gonna be easy."

"Nothing about my life has been easy, Ben. I hardly expect it to start being so now."

Ben grunted. "Mebbe not. On the other hand, you didn't grow up on Yancy Street, either."

Maria considered this. "Mulberry Street is only a mile away. That doesn't count?"

"Hell, no. Yancy Street is a world of its own."

There was more-much more-along these lines, and Charles could tell that Ben Grimm was making a conscious effort to get Maria to relax, and it seemed to be working. Bobby was still talking to Johnny Storm, and they seemed to be debating who would win a fight between fire and ice. Charles smiled to himself. The Torch would win today. But he wondered very much who would win in ten years. Bobby, he was sure, had more growth potential than the Torch had. Scott and Jean were talking quietly to Jean's parents, and Warren was speaking with his father. Hank and Reed were having an animated discussion, about God knew what. Something that Charles was pretty sure he wouldn't understand. He could sense the nervousness emanating from everyone, especially his students.

A huge crowd had amassed outside Radio City. Rumors were swirling around the city, around the country. Some said that Reed Richards would be revealing some great secret, perhaps revolving around alien invasions, or even an alien diplomatic presence on Earth. Others talked about the discovery of a faster-than-light drive. Or that he had discovered a method of entering some sort of secret dimension previously unknown to man. But the fact of a connection to the X-Men had leaked out, somehow, and most of the rumors centered around them. The truth-that they were revealing their secret identities-was certainly one of the rumors. But there were others. That Magneto and the Brotherhood were going to join the X-Men, their dispute at an end. That a secret mutant plot to overthrow the world's governments had been revealed, and the X-Men were either going to oppose it, or lead it. Even Maria's rumor-that the government had a secret weapon to be used against mutants-was bandied about. (And damn it, Charles still couldn't believe this was true. He had to get more information about all this...) But all these rumors-and many more-were raging. Well, they would know the truth soon enough. In the meantime, at 12:30, the latter half of the Music Hall was made open to the public, and masses of people tried to get inside. A small fraction of the crowd managed to enter, much to the vocal disappointment of the rest. The crowd outside was estimated by the NYPD to be as great as 200,000-a fantastic number. Large TV screens had been set up in strategically-placed areas in the vicinity of Radio City, and the crowds slowly congregated around them.

The front half of the Music Hall filled up with reporters and various VIPs. Finally, at one o'clock, the curtain opened to reveal a dias set up on the stage. Seats had been arranged behind the dias, and the X-Men's families sat there, their children with them, masks on. Charles Xavier was in his wheelchair, not far behind the dias. The Fantastic Four entered from the wings, and Reed approached the dias while the other members of the FF stood near the X-Men.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," Reed said. "Other distinguished guests. And the people of the United States, and the world. Thank you for coming today. We are gathered for a major announcement concerning the X-Men. I should like to assure the people of the world that I know them well, have fought beside them, that there's no one whom I have more respect for, and no one whom I'd more readily trust with the safety and security of the nation. If rumors have swirled around them, well, today's announcement, hopefully, will dispel most of those. Without further ado, I should like to introduce you all to Professor Charles Xavier of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters."

Reed beckoned to Charles, and he approached with his wheelchair. They had set the dias up so that he could stand there, holding on to grips at the side. When he reached the dias, Scott and Maria rushed up to help him, each taking an arm. He grabbed the grips, and thanked his students. He looked into the cameras, and took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Reed," he said. "And I should like to second his thanks to all of you for coming." He paused. "Ladies and gentleman-my name is Charles Xavier. And I am a mutant." There. The words had been said, and could now never be withdrawn. There was a stir among the assembled media and crowd. "I run a School for Gifted Youngsters in Salem Center, New York, up in Westchester County. This is in fact a school for mutants. Young people who could find no other place to accept them, a place where they would not be outcasts, a place where they could be trained in their abilities and join together for mutual safety and to protect the world from menaces no one else could deal with. I have so far gathered together six of these young people, whom you see arrayed around me, with their families. They have shown courage, fortitude, determination. I am more proud of them than I can possibly say. And never more so than by their actions today."

He paused for a swallow of water. "Ladies and gentlemen-we have called this press conference for one reason, and one reason only. We have decided to reveal our true identities to the world. To stop hiding in the shadows, and step out into the light. We are well aware that there may be dangers involved in doing this-both to ourselves, and our loved ones. But that has not deterred us, and the presence here of the families of these exceptional young people is proof enough of their willingness to stand behind their children.

"Why have we taken this step? I must emphasize, first of all, that this has been their decision, far more than it has been mine. I was initially skeptical of the idea. But they have won me over. They felt-and specifically, it was Maria Gianelli's belief, the young lady who has won such renown under the name 'Shift'-that hiding our identities was doing more harm than good. That it played into the hands of our enemies, both mutant and human, by making it seem that we agreed with them that we had something to hide, that there was something shameful in being a mutant. Or, conversely, that by hiding, we were playing into the hands of a human race that would never accept us for what we were-that hiding was a form of cowardice, an acceptance of our inferiority. We came to feel, in the end, that both groups had a point. By accepting our enemies' logic, we were implicitly letting them brand us in their image. Today, I am here to tell you that this will no longer be the case."

Somewhere in Staten island, five mutants were huddled around a television set. Magneto, sitting in a large leather chair, watched intently. He made not a sound, and Wanda thought he might as well have been turned to stone. The Toad blinked his eyes as he watched, peering at Magneto, seemingly not sure how to react. Pietro seemed bemused, as if someone had played a particularly clever parlor trick on him and he was being a good sport about it. Wyngarde, standing over to the side, watched with a smirk on his face.

"Well, well, well," he said when Xavier paused briefly. "What do you know about that. Did you anticipate this, Magneto?"

Their leader waved Mastermind off. "Not now, Wyngarde," he said simply. "I don't want to miss a syllable of this." Mastermind shrugged, and they watched as Xavier went on.

"-we are revealing our identities, because we shall no longer accept that we are second-class citizens, ready to hide ourselves away just because it might be convenient for us. Or even comfortable for us. Many Negroes were comfortable under Jim Crow. As of course were the great majority of whites. That did not make acquiescing in it any more palatable. We may not always be comfortable, emerging into the light of the world. Many things will change. We acknowledge that some of these changes may not be to our liking. That is the price of freedom-freedom from our own fears and entrenched patterns, patterns that needed to be shaken up, questioned-and, in this case, abandoned. We are ready for whatever happens."

"Ah my, Charles," Magneto said. "You are not ready, I fear. I could have told you that. But still-well-played. Very well-played, indeed. This is perhaps the finest move you have ever made. You may have even overturned the whole board."

Wanda shut her eyes. She could not see what this meant for her, Pietro, the Brotherhood, all of them. All she could think about was the girl, Maria. This sense she had-that she and Shift were bound somehow-was stronger than ever. What on earth did it mean? And why did she feel that when she did learn, her life-all their lives-would never be the same?

"-I have spoken long enough," Charles said. "I should now like to introduce to the world six very remarkable young people. All of whom have shown extraordinary courage and fortitude." He nodded, and Scott and Maria helped him back to the wheelchair. He moved aside, and Scott remained at the dias.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "My name is Scott Summers, and I am a mutant." And he slowly removed his mask, and stood there, face-and visor-revealed to the world. "I am known as 'Cyclops', for perhaps obvious reasons. I am blessed-or cursed-with an optic blast emanating from my eyes. I have no control over this energy. It's there all the time. If I removed this visor, the energy would explode out of my eyes. For obvious reasons, I have to be careful in using my powers. Professor Xavier and his School has been a godsend. Without him, I simply can't imagine what would have happened to me. I would either be dead, or a pawn of some mutant predator or another, certainly a menace to society. Professor Xavier has been like a father to me, and I-we-owe him everything."

Nathaniel Essex, watching the spectacle on television, felt a strong urge to throw up. Scott-Scott-showing his damned face to the world! Well, it was no good crying over spilled milk. Years of his planning had been upset. He had taken what precautions he could to make sure that no one could trace anything back to him. Whether or not those precautions would be adequate, he had not the slightest idea. He could only do his best. Being a genius, and having a century head start on everyone else, might just not be enough anymore. What was the world coming to, anyway?

He shut his eyes, didn't listen for a time. There was just so much he could take. His plans now were defensive. Limit the damage this fiasco had caused. Get revenge-on someone, anyone. Perhaps his dear friend and "ally" the Thinker. For failing him. For the obvious relish he took in giving him the news. For the sheer hell of it. And of course, find out how En Sabah Nur regarded all this. He just might react like a bull would to a red cape. If so-

Essex shuddered. Things were going to get worse-much worse-before they got better. The girl Maria-he had to think of something special for that freak. Something special indeed. The thought consoled him as he turned his attention back to the TV set.

"-I should now like to introduce a young lady who is very special to all of us, and perhaps most of all to me," Scott said. "Marvel Girl? If you please?" Jean rose, with a final squeeze of her father's hand. She passed Scott, and in front of the whole world kissed him very lightly, and the Music Hall buzzed as she did so. She stepped up to the dias, and looked out at the crowd, the cameras.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, removing her mask, "my name is Jean Grey. And I am a mutant." She was revealed to the world, and it seemed to Charles, watching her, that he had never really seen her before. Not like this. Her face was radiant, her voice buoyant and full of vitality and joy. The buzz increased, the photographers moved in closer to her, clicking away. "My code-name is 'Marvel Girl', though what I do is not really so marvelous as all that. I am a telekinetic." She smiled at Charles, and raised his chair-and him-a few feet off the ground, gently lowering him again. "I have been a member of the X-Men for a year-and-a-half, and in that time I have seen us become not just a fighting team, not just a group of young mutants brought together against a hostile and misunderstanding world. I have seen us become a family. Scott said that the Professor has been like a father to him. I can only agree. Whatever we have been, whatever we might become, is because of him. Charles Xavier saved my sanity as a girl, and he has guided me as a young woman. The pride I take in being one of the X-Men is something I can hardly describe, and the reason for that is due to him."

Somewhere on the earth, the man once known as En Sabah Nur watched a television screen. He believed in strength above all else. He believed that mutants needed to be strong. He had long believed that Xavier's puerile "dream" weakened mutants, that he was turning very promising mutant material into soft, complacent stuff that would not survive the holocausts to come. Now, though...

The girl. Something about this girl did not fit into his categories. He did not know what it was, but he realized, with a start, that he would not want the girl for an enemy. Her mutant powers were small compared to his own, but that did not seem to matter. Strength. He watched her, and knew that Jean Grey had reserves of strength he did not understand. That gave him pause. And this gambit of theirs-it would introduce new elements into the equation, including some that they did not now anticipate. Elements that would test them. Bring out their strengths.

Very well. He had more-or-less decided to keep out of the way of the X-Men, at least for now. That decison was merely solidified by this action of theirs. He had time, God knew. More than anyone else. He could wait a few years. Besides-you'll all have enough to concern yourselves with, very soon indeed. When you have been tested-tempered-I will still be waiting. And then we shall see what we shall see.

"-especially want to express my appreciation to Maria-Shift. You'll be meeting her in a few minutes-if you're up to the experience. I'm not sure I've ever been. This was really her idea, and she carried us all along with her. And now, I'd like to introduce the prettiest of us all-including me." She gestured to the Angel. "If you please?"

Warren stood up, and walked to the dias. Jean gave his hand a squeeze as he passed, and the crowd seemed to hold its breath. He looked so majestic up there, like a god. He smiled, and removed his mask.

"Ladies and gentlemen-my name is Warren Worthington the Third. And I'm a mutant." There was a release of breath, and Warren smiled. "My power-? Well, it speaks for itself. I've been given the gift of wings, and the blessing of being able to fly. And my gratitude to God, or Darwin, or whomever you want to credit for it, is beyond description. I feel that it's the greatest of mutant abilities. And I would echo what all the others have said-we have become a family. And that is thanks to Charles Xavier, our Professor, our leader, our inspiration. When things have been tough, he's always been there for us. The burdens he's borne would have broken anyone else. It's just made him tougher, stronger, and more able to do his job.

"I'd also like to especially mention Maria-Shift. She's been an inspiration to us all since she joined the team, and this day wouldn't have happened without her. We all owe her a special vote of thanks..."

In the freshman dormitory at Dartmouth College, a young man named Cameron Hodge watched television, a cynical smile on his face. He took off his glasses, blew air on them, rubbed them and put them back on. So dear old Warrie was taking the plunge! Along with the rest of the freaks! This, he had to admit, came as a surprise to him. He didn't think they'd ever have the guts. It had always given him a secret satisfaction that whenever the damned freaks listed their "enemies" who knew who they were, they'd always overlook him. Maybe that way, they wouldn't be looking in his direction when he made his move against them. And he certainly would do that some day, indeed he would. Unless, of course, someone else got to them first. He devoutly hoped this would not be the case. Someday, when they least expected it, he wanted to be the one to destroy them. He wanted to be the name in the history books. And the more involved, detailed, and unexpected his destruction of them, the better.

This unfortunate outbreak of idealism on their part made it harder, he supposed. Now, everyone and his brother would be able to strike at them. Well, just survive a few more years, that's all. Until he graduated from this place. By then, his plans would be perfected. Indeed they would be.

At that same moment in a lounge in a fancy girl's finishing school on Long Island, a young lady named Candy Sothern was mentally comparing the pluses and minuses of drawing and quartering, as opposed to boiling in oil. Not a word to her about this. Not a word. About who he was. About their decision. She sighed. She supposed drawing and quartering would be more painful. It was no more than he deserved.

Meanwhile, the other girls-silly, empty-headed creatures-were practically drooling at the sight of him.

"Oh-my-God-"

"I'm in love. It's official."

"I'm in lust. And that's official."

"How can that red-haired witch look twice at Mr Pompous when he's within a ten-mile radius of her?"

There was much more of this, in disgusting detail. Candy shook her head. Warren-I'm going to get you.

"-OK-now if things have gotten too warm and cuddly for you all, let's cool things off. Iceman-?" Warren stepped down, and Bobby stepped to the dias.

"Ladies and gentlemen-my name is Bobby Drake." He de-iced, and stood revealed to the world in his "human" form. "And I'm a mutant." He took a deep breath, and looked out at the cameras, the crowd. "I've been having a lot of trouble figuring out what I'm going to say right now. Something the others haven't said. But I guess all I can say is that being an X-Man has been a great honor to me, and that having the Professor as our teacher has been an even greater honor. None of us would be anything without him."

He paused briefly. "And I'd also like to add my two cents to what the others have said about Maria. She's terrific, and has taught me some lessons I needed to learn. She's helped me grow up. All the X-Men have, for that matter. Scott's as steady as a rock. Warren couldn't have been closer if he had been my real brother. Jean looks after us all. Hank-uh, the Beast, is the best friend a guy could ever have. They all mean more to me than I can say. Being with them has been a privilege. And I have to thank my folks, because without their understanding-"

Bolivar Trask could barely contain his disgust. So they were trying to "humanize" themselves! Well, they could pull the wool over some eyes. Never his. All this would mean to him was that his own plan to blacken their names, before he destroyed them, would have to be just that much stronger.

Next to him, Larry stirred. "What is is, son?" Bolivar asked, concern in his voice.

"I don't know, Dad. I think I have-dreams-about them." He looked ashamed. "You know what I mean, Dad-those kind of dreams."

Bolivar looked worriedly at his son. "You're keeping the medallion on, son? Day and night?"

Larry stirred uneasily. "Yes, Dad. I never take it off. Even when I shower."

"You know why, Larry. Without it-"

Larry shuddered. "I know, Dad. The dreams... But they seem to be coming anyway, as far as the X-Men are concerned. And they seem so real-"

Bolivar shut his eyes. The medallion wasn't working anymore. Not all the time, anyway. This was bad. Larry could never know who, what he was. And for God's sake, when the Sentinels were unleashed, they couldn't be looking in his-Larry's-direction. He had strengthened the medallion before. Maybe he could do so again.

"I know my boy. I know. If the dreams continue, let me know at once, all right? I'll see what I can do." His son nodded unhappily.

"OK-I guess it's time to introduce my best friend, and a guy of whom it can really be said that he stays on his toes-Beast?"

Hank got up, to encouraging smiles from his parents. He strode to the dias, and licked his lips.

"Well-unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I must nevertheless emphasize the media presence here by thanking you ladies and gentlemen of the fourth estate for your exemplary response to our summons." He coughed slightly. "Anyway-without further ado, let me say that my name is Henry McCoy." He took off his mask, blinked into the cameras. "And I am a mutant."

He looked out at the sea of people, the cameras, the journalists, looked back at his family, the Professor, his fellow X-Men. "It behooves me to re-emphasize the plaudits the others have showered upon the Professor. Without him, I can't imagine what or where I-any of us-would be today. Not in any conceivably good situation, I'm certain. He is the X-Men. He is everything good that we mutants hope to accomplish in the world. Trust me on this one, folks."

He took a sip of water. "And also, let me add to what everyone else has said about my fellow X-Men. We have become a team, a family, and may well be on our way to becoming an extended tribe, if I might use an anthropological metaphor. Everyone here helps and supports everyone else. And again, with the others, I should like to give special thanks to Maria Gianelli, who suffers under burdens none of the rest of us do, and who keeps her spirits way up. She has taught me more than I could have ever hoped to teach her-"

Brenda Koplowitz, in Reading, watched the TV in her parent's house. Her parents, she knew, regarded her as a trial. She tried to be a good girl, but was always doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing. But maybe, that day with Hank, she had said the right thing. He was doing this, after all. That made her feel good. Hank deserved all the good stuff he could get. Maybe this would give him some good stuff. She hoped so.

In a small room of the Hellfire Club, Sebastian Shaw, Donald Pierce, Harry Leland, and Emma Frost were watching a television set. Their expressions were somber, tinged with contempt. It was Emma who spoke first.

"My God," she said. "Who do they think they're fooling? They couldn't resist the spotlight, after all. All this idealistic bull-"

Shaw waved a hand. "Maybe they've fooled themselves, Emma. It happens."

Pierce made a dismissive gesture. "I can't see that this either profits or harms us one way or another, Sebastian." He paused. "Unless it bollixes up your plans for the Gianelli girl. I'd be very cautious about that, now."

"Oh, I quite agree, Donald," Shaw said with a tinge of regret in his voice. "Since she has gone public, our-inducements-that we were planning on offering her are moot. Nonetheless, I think this still profits us. It gives us more information. And that always is profitable, in the long run." He paused. "We know too, that Warren has conflicts of interest now. I do not believe we can entirely trust him anymore. And that, too, is a profitable piece of information for us."

Leland shrugged, a big gesture, like the man. "If you say so, dear boy. I find myself a bit worried that it makes a conflict with the X-Men more likely. And that is not in anybody's interest."

"Conflict is always in somebody's interest," Shaw said. "It might as well be in ours."

Emma smiled maliciously. "I guarantee you one thing-it won't be in that red-haired bitch's interest." She considered the TV screen. "I do not believe I like our Miss Grey."

"I suspect she'd reciprocate those feelings, my dear Emma," Harry said lightly.

"I should hope so," was all Emma replied.

"-And now, without any further ado-" There was a slight ripple of laughter, Charles noticed. Poor Hank. He was nervous, and had been a bit-loquacious. "-I'd like to introduce our latest member, our strongest member-our gutsiest member-Shift."

Maria walked slowly up to the dias, squeezing Hank's shoulder as she passed. She stepped to the microphones. "Folks-you'll have to excuse my voice. I know it sounds like a rusty gate, but that can't be helped." She looked out over the hall. "My name is Maria Gianelli, and I am a mutant." She gave a wicked smile. "As for what my power is-well-maybe this will show you." She turned from the audience, Shifted-and Charles was astonished, and dismayed, to see that she had Shifted into a simulacron of Marilyn Monroe. "I have the ability to become anything I choose," she said, in a husky, seductive voice that affected even Charles. The audience began to laugh, and the other X-Men, Charles noticed, were having hysterics on the stage behind Maria. Frank Gianelli looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

Maria Shifted back to her normal self. "That is a Shift form that I use very rarely, and only against the most deadly of foes. I usually stick to more basic forms, like the eagle-and I have tree forms I can use-and a diamond form, for especially tough nuts to crack. But there's really no limit. If I see something, imagine, it, I can Shift into it-with practice. But only for a few minutes at a time..."

J Jonah Jameson watched the TV set in his office. His jaws were clamped down so hard on his cigar that he hadn't noticed he had bit it in two. Thoughts-none of them very pleasing-were going through his head. Maybe the X-Men thought they were doing the right thing. Maybe he thought they were doing the right thing. Maybe they were doing the right thing. At least they were coming out into the open, taking responsibility for their actions. He was going to keep them honest, all the same. That was his duty, as a newspaper man. If they did their jobs, he would say so. If they crossed the line, even by an inch, they'd be damned sorry.

He laughed to himself. What if Spider-Man did this, he wondered? Would he show him the same consideration? God only knew. He doubted the occasion would arise.

He opened his desk, took out Frank Gianelli's letter of resignation. He looked at his former reporter on the stage, as his sister walked back from the dias. The girl had behaved like a clown, but he would have expected that. He took a deep breath. He'd have to watch out especially hard for his prejudices regarding the girl. And keep her on the griddle, even more so than the others. They were going to be popular for awhile. That was a reality. Let's see how they behaved. Despite himself, he had to admit to being impressed. Just a little.

He held the letter in his hands. Fuck it. He slowly tore the letter to little pieces, tossed it in his waste-basket. He sat down and sighed. He'd call Frank tomorrow. Get him back on the Sentinels story. He nodded. That, at least, he was sure of. He was doing the right thing.

There were questions, of course. Endless questions. For all of them, especially, Charles sighed to himself, for Jean. Attempts by the cameramen to have she and Scott show more explicit affection were rejected, quietly but firmly, by the young couple. They stood hand-in-hand, and were content with that. Maria also took a lot of queries, and she answered them about as Charles had expected-very much in her spirit. At least she didn't stretch the truth too much.

The families too were inundated with questions, and they answered as best as they could, from the simple honesty of the McCoy's to the elaborate sophisticated evasions of Warren, Junior. Finally, it was over. The X-Men and their familes, and the FF, were alone backstage.

"I think that went well," Maria said cheerfully. "Did we survive, Professor?"

"We can only hope," Charles said. He took a deep breath. "My X-Men-I am very proud of all of you. You have done well this day."

Jean kissed him on the cheek. "You centered us, sir. As you do for all we do."

The others agreed, and Charles Xavier felt a burst of pride. Maybe this day would turn out to be a good one. He felt they had taken the first step.