X-MEN
The First Class 1/10
Chapter One: Genesis
Westchester County, New York. Late Autumn.
The wind stirred the red and gold leaves across the long private drive that wound its way through the woods. Nestled at the end of the road stood a sprawling mansion of gray stone and ivy-covered walls. Stately and elegant, with tall windows and steep, gabled roofs, it looked like something from another century.
And in some ways, it was.
This was the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning.
To the public, a school for gifted children. But in truth—it was a sanctuary. A school for mutants.
A cab slowly pulled into the entrance, and from it emerged a young Jean Grey. She paid the driver, pulled her bags from the trunk, and stood awkwardly at the entryway, clutching the strap of her duffel bag.
As she entered she was now in the grand foyer, the air was warm, filled with the scent of wood polish and aged paper. The ceiling soared above her, crowned by a glittering crystal chandelier that caught the soft afternoon light. Her footsteps echoed faintly across the polished floors.
She stared up at the grand staircase that split toward both wings of the house. The mansion was massive—palatial, really.
It looked more like a museum than a school.
What am I doing here? she thought.
A smooth, calm voice greeted her.
"Welcome, Jean."
She turned. A man in a wheelchair was approaching. Bald, middle-aged, and refined in both dress and demeanor, his eyes held a serenity that was both comforting and unnerving.
He was Charles Xavier—the man who had found her. The man who had told her she wasn't alone.
"You're Professor Xavier," she said quietly.
"I am," he replied with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh. Hopefully, you're enjoying the scenery—this will be your home now. If you're willing, that is."
Jean hesitated. "But… I'm not like other kids."
"No. I know you're not. But here, no one is."
Xavier led her down the grand hallway, the low hum of his electric wheelchair filling the space as they passed from one room to the next. He explained that the school had once been his family estate—filled with heirlooms, memories, and trinkets from his youth.
But now, seeing how the world was changing, the house served a higher purpose.
As they moved through empty rooms still being refurbished into classrooms, the professor began to speak more like a teacher than a host.
"You see, Jean," he said gently, "humanity stands at the precipice of evolution—a natural next step in our species' long journey through time. Mutants, or Homo superior, are the offspring of regular humans who, through a specific genetic shift, are born with extraordinary abilities. These abilities stem from what we call the X-Gene."
They passed a window with a perfect view of the gardens and the pool in the distance. As they paused to admire the scenery, Xavier continued:
"In every mutant, this unique gene lies dormant until it is triggered—most often during adolescence, under stress or emotional upheaval. It is this gene that sets us apart. It does not follow a set pattern. In some, it grants telepathy or flight; in others, strength beyond measure, or control over the elements."
"I created this school for new mutants to learn to control their abilities. We are still in the early days, Jean. Mutants are only just beginning to emerge. Most of the world doesn't know what to make of us. Some fear us. Others… would rather we disappear."
"Why do they hate us?" she asked.
"Because we're different," he replied simply.
"And difference often invites fear."
As they entered the library, a roaring fire filled the hearth. Outside, dusk was settling. He spoke not just as a teacher now, but as someone who understood the burden she carried.
"When I was younger, I had a friend named Erik. We were both mutants. We dreamed of a better world. A world where mutants and humans could live together in peace."
"What happened?" Jean asked.
"He lost faith in that dream. He saw only the hate. Only the fear. And he decided the only way forward was to fight."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know exactly," Xavier said, his voice grave. "But I can tell you this—he now calls himself Magneto. And he's not alone. He's formed a group—the Brotherhood. Mutants who believe violence is the only answer to achieving a world where mutants live in peace."
A beat of silence passed. Then, without another word, they continued walking.
They turned a corner and descended into a hidden elevator. It wasn't a long journey but when the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime Jean's eyes widened.
Beneath the mansion lay something astonishing—A state-of-the-art training facility. Control rooms. Advanced laboratories. Vaults embedded deep underground.
"Are you sure this is just… a school?"
"It's much more than that. A place to learn, to train, to protect. You're not the first one I contacted, Jean. There are others—students, like you, who were born with gifts they didn't ask for, and don't yet understand."
They went near a door where Jean could hear a commotion happening in the other side, Xavier just smiled as the door opened. And there they were.
The First Class.
Four teenagers stood across the room, each strikingly different from the others.
The first had a lean build and wore a red quartz visor across his eyes. He stood at military attention, arms folded—a quiet storm behind a serious expression.
"Scott Summers," Xavier said. "He calls himself Cyclops. His optic blasts are powerful beyond measure. He cannot control them without his visor."
Jean gave a small nod. Scott nodded back—impassive—before disappearing into another room.
Next was a boy with thick glasses and a massive frame. He had shaggy hair and large hands, his movements oddly graceful despite his bulk. He gave Jean a friendly grin.
"Hank McCoy. Beast. Strength, agility, intellect. He's our resident scholar."
"And gymnast," Hank added with a wink.
A swoosh of wind swept in as a young man descended from above, feathery wings folding behind his back. He was angelic in the truest sense, with blond hair and sharp features.
"Warren Worthington the Third," Xavier said. "Angel. He comes from a powerful family. But he's chosen a different kind of legacy."
Warren gave Jean a warm smile. "Welcome to the madhouse."
Then, a chill swept through the room as a final figure slid into place on a patch of smooth ice that formed beneath his feet.
"Bobby Drake," Xavier said. "Iceman. Quick with a joke—and colder than he looks."
Jean smiled faintly. Something about them felt… genuine. Flawed and awkward in their own ways.
Just like her.
"They're my first students," Xavier said. "And I hope, soon, your friends."
Then a shrill klaxon tore through the room.
"ALERT. LEVEL ONE. IMMEDIATE RESPONSE REQUIRED."
The lights above flickered red. The doors hissed open and Cyclops's voice crackled through the speaker system.
"Professor! We've got an emergency. Washington, D.C. — the White House. It's the Brotherhood."
Xavier's calm cracked. He turned to Jean. "Come. You need to see this."
They went even deeper in the mansion where the hangar roared with energy as the X-Men boarded the Blackbird — a sleek jet hidden beneath the estate. Xavier wheeled toward the central console. Cyclops slid into the pilot's seat. Angel strapped in with focused calm. Beast flipped switches at the nav station. Iceman conjured a frozen path to the auxiliary door, humming along the way.
Jean paused at the ramp. "You're bringing me?"
Xavier nodded. "You need to see what's at stake."
The jet's engines ignited, and they launched into the sky, hidden by stealth tech and cloaked under darkness.
Inside, Jean stared at the reflection in the cockpit glass. She didn't know who she was yet. A scared girl with a fire inside — or something more. Something waiting to wake.
Xavier's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"They're attacking the White House. Making a statement. Erik knows this will draw attention. The world will see mutants not as people… but as threats."
"What can we do?" Jean whispered.
"We stop them. We protect. Even those who hate us."
The plane soared through the night, carrying five young mutants, their mentor, and a dream on the edge of war.
And Jean Grey sat among them — unaware that the power sleeping inside her would one day reshape the fate of them all.
To Be Continued…