X Men First Class (comic) New Team New Friends

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Five of them. Five young mutants staying in the same house – if the mansion could be called such a meagre word – having the same lessons and training. That was the Professor’s big idea. Eighteen year-old Scott Summers didn’t like it. He’d lived at the mansion almost six months and he was used to his own space and one on one time with Xavier. He didn’t want a group of strangers hustling in on his tranquil space, not to mention the fact that he’d have to be extra careful around them what with his condition.

These were the thoughts littering the young man’s mind as he sat opposite the bald, wheelchair-bound man in the large drawing room. Of course, Scott had already pleaded his case and lost because once the Professor had made up his mind about something that was that. Before the shaded teen could protest any further, the doorbell rang and he followed his trusted guardian to answer it.

Scott pulled open the heavy wooden door, staring at the floor as he did so, still not used to looking people in the eye. He stepped behind the Professor’s wheelchair as the telepath greeted their first arrival. They shook hands and for almost an entire minute neither the Professor nor the new mutant spoke. Scott finally gave in and brought his eyes up to look at his new housemate. He suddenly believed that having more mutants around was the greatest idea anyone had ever had.

“This is Jean Grey,” the Professor gestured to Scott, whose mouth was now agape, “Jean, this is Scott Summers. He’s been here six months now so I’m sure he’ll show you the ropes.”

Jean tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear and held out her hand to shake.

“Hi, Scott. Nice to meet you.”

It took a moment for the youngster in shades to remember how to use his arms but he finally managed to complete the handshake.

“Hi.” I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.

Jean’s cheeks flushed and she tugged her hand away quickly as the Professor smirked.

“Jean is a telepath like me, Scott.”

Scott’s shoulders tensed and he clenched his jaw, Oh crap, “Oh, crap.”

When Scott’s face finally returned to a normal shade for human skin, Jean stepped inside the mansion. She stared in awe at the various artefacts and old paintings that lined the walls, her bright eyes taking in every detail. She was so engrossed with her new surroundings that she walked straight into Scott when he stopped by the stairs.

He cleared his throat and pointed up the grand staircase, “Your room is up here, opposite mine.” I hope I don’t have any more nightmares.

Jean frowned at the odd thought but didn’t speak on it; she’d found that most people preferred to keep their thoughts to themselves and usually got irritated or annoyed if she mentioned something they thought was private. Scott grabbed one of her suitcases and started to drag it up the stairs, his spindly arms straining with the weight of it. He looked like he might snap in half before he reached the top.

“Um,” Jean bit her lip in an attempt to hide her amusement and flicked her wrist. The other suitcase that she brought floated into the air and ascended the stairs beside her, gracefully hovering just a few inches ahead. She reached the landing at the same time Scott did.

“Sorry,” she pressed her lips into a thin line to conceal her smile, “I should have mentioned my telekinesis.”

Between ragged breaths, Scott nodded and gasped, “No problem, I haven’t done any weight training today,” Or ever, “So I needed the workout.”

With a smile that sent shivers down Scott’s spine, Jean thanked him and followed him to her new room. She was about to ask what his mutant abilities were as he’d been thinking about everything but them since she arrived but was interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. It sounded more like someone trying to break in rather than a polite gesture of arrival.

The two teenagers rushed down the stairs and met with the Professor as he opened the door. Standing in the doorway, or rather filling it, was a muscle-bound lad with the largest hands Scott had ever seen. He wore a baseball cap atop dark hair and small glasses that looked somewhat comical on his jock-like frame. With a hand as gentle as a mother chimp, the mutant took off his cap and smiled warmly at the trio before him.

“Good afternoon, my name is Henry McCoy, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

As Scott’s mouth hung open, shocked at the eloquence of such a brute, Jean shook one of Henry’s giant hands.  Scott managed an awkward head nod and was once again on luggage duty as the new arrival absorbed his surroundings. His eyes lit up at every mew object he found and he even managed to handle a few fragile items on display, his huge hands surprisingly dexterous.

“You must never be bored with such wondrous surroundings, my dear Scott,” Henry was currently studying a glass case full of broken pieces of pottery.

“Er, sure, Henry.” Scott raised an eyebrow at Jean and she smiled, once again taking his breath away.

“Hank, please,” Henry peeled his eyes away from the cabinet and smiled broadly, “No one calls me Henry.”

As they stepped into what was to be Hank’s room, Scott plonked his cases on the plush carpet and stretched his arms above his head. He wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable muscle-ache later on. Intrigued as always with anything new, he looked over to Hank, who was busy arranging some glass jars on the windowsill, and asked as politely as he could,

“So Hank, what’s your mutation?”

The larger teen placed the last jar, which contained something that resembled a tiny rat with wings, on the sill and turned to Scott. His huge body blocked the light from the window as he raised his hands out before him.

“I am an extremely agile individual. Athletic too. I was lined up to play football for the state…” He trailed off, eyes to the floor.

“Clever too!” Jean placed a hand on Hank’s shoulder and he smiled, a silent ‘thank you’ in his kind eyes. His attention moved back to Scott,

“What about you? What incredible mutation do you hold?”

Scott’s hand reflexively moved to his red-tinted glasses but before he could respond the doorbell rang once more.

He sighed, “It’s like Central Station in here.”

By the time the three teens got to the front door it was already closed and the new arrival was nowhere to be seen. Jean shivered and when she spoke her breath came out in a cloud of white, as though she was standing outside in the snow.

“Did someone turn on the AC? It’s freezing in here!”

“Ah, my bad. I’ll try to keep my distance.”

The voice came from the drawing room and, as Jean turned towards it, the youngster stepped into the hallway with the others. He looked younger than them by a couple of years, he was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and his light brown hair was sticking up in various directions like he’d just gotten out of bed. The most striking thing about him, however, was the utterly frosty aura surrounding him. Not a metaphorical aura, the few inches near his body were actually cold to the touch and Hank could have sworn he saw some icicles forming on the wall behind him.

“Bobby Drake,” the cold air shifted slightly as Bobby held out his hand to shake Hank’s. The larger man shook it vigorously and began to move around Bobby as though deciding where to dissect first.

They showed Bobby to his room, which he couldn’t quite believe was all his, and the Professor informed the group that their final member would be joining them later that evening, leaving them to try and get to know one another a little more. When Jean suggested that they show one another their abilities, they moved into the grounds of the mansion out of fear of breaking something expensive indoors.

Jean went first, secretly wanting to show the boys that the lady could handle herself just fine. She turned to the large, ornate fountain in the centre of the courtyard and raised her hands high, telekinetically raising the fountain too; it hovered for a few seconds and suddenly the redhead felt the link to it waver, sending it crashing to the ground with a bang. The water splashed out of it like a mini tidal wave, soaking the boys.

“Wow. Thanks,” Scott smirked as he wringed out his shirt.

“Me next!” Bobby rubbed his hands together and held them out towards the still-dripping Scott. A burst of sub-zero air shot at the dripping teen and within seconds his soaked shirt was frozen solid. It stuck out awkwardly and forced his arms outwards, making him look like a cardboard cut-out of himself. Jean and Hank couldn’t help but laugh and even Scott finally gave in and smiled. Bobby mouthed a ‘sorry’ as Hank prepared to display his talent.

He walked to the wall of the mansion, broad shoulders making him look like a pro-wrestler, and stopped. Then, with the grace and ease of an ape in the jungle, he bounded up the wall, propelled himself off it and latched onto a nearby streetlamp. He hung there casually as the others whooped and cheered.

“Your turn, Scotty!” Bobby’s grin gave away his youth and Jean couldn’t help but mirror it. She too was curious about Scott’s abilities.

Scott, however, remained stoic. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ground dejectedly, “I can’t.”

Bobby’s lower lip jutted out, “Oh, come on! We showed you ours!”

Hank dismounted the lamp silently and stood beside Bobby, making the icy cold boy look even smaller in comparison.

“Come on, Scott. We want to see what you can do!”

Even Hank’s encouragement wasn’t enough to persuade him. Scott pushed his glasses tighter on his face and shook his head, “I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

He turned to leave but Jean spoke up, “That’s alright. We understand.”

She smiled at him but this time he wasn’t as enthusiastic to see it; he walked to the mansion, head lowered.

“Really? We don’t get to see it?”

Bobby’s pout was growing by the second but a sudden idea wiped it from his face. He created a snowball in his hands and launched it at Scott with as much force as he could muster. It connected with its target with accurate precision and smacked Scott directly on the back of his head, covering him in damp snow. In a matter of seconds all hell broke loose. Scott’s glasses clattered to the floor, leaving his open eyes exposed and his mutant ability to roam free. An almost blinding red beam of energy burst forth from Scott’s eyes and shot across the courtyard in a stream of pure force. It knocked over a statue of an angel and burst through the outer wall as if it were made from playdough. A little too late, Scott slapped his arm across his eyes and quickly dropped to his knees, blindly fumbling around for his glasses. A voice close to his face made him jump as Jean placed the shades back onto his face.

“Here you go, Scott.”

As Scott opened his eyes, the familiar red hue returning to his field of vision, he looked at Jean’s face expecting a look of terror or perhaps disgust. The emotion wasn’t present, however, and instead she looked worried.

She’s not scared? Why isn’t she scared?

Jean smiled and spoke so only Scott could hear her reply, “You, Scott Summers, are the least scary person I know.”

Hank and Bobby helped Scott to his feet (he was a little drained from using so much power so suddenly) and surveyed the damage.

“Oh my stars and garters,” Hank removed his glasses and wiped them, as if hoping the scene would change when he put them back on, “That’s quite a gift you have there, Scott.”

More like a curse.

Jean couldn’t help but hear the thought as it marched through Scott’s brain like a stampede of elephants.

“I- I am so sorry, man! I didn’t know- I just thought- Oh, man!” Bobby was waving his arms around frantically, trying to find the right words and radiating an even colder temperature than before. He looked like he might start to cry.

“It’s alright, Bobby, you weren’t to know.” Scott attempted a nonchalant expression but ended up looking kind of drained instead.

Bobby relaxed a little and then his eyes almost bulged out of his head, “I don’t have to pay for the damage do I? Because I have no money whatsoever.”

The others smiled and turned to walk back into the mansion.

Meanwhile, a blonde, handsome young man in a long brown trench coat was standing at the front door of the mansion, contemplating whether or not to knock on the door. He had come of his own accord but was starting to have doubts as to whether it was a good idea to come here after all. Would he be considered a freak? An abomination? He was about to leave when the wall to his left suddenly exploded in a flash of red light. He fell backwards onto his backside and stared aghast at the smouldering hole. Maybe he would fit in here after all.

“Hello?” he stepped through the freshly made gateway to the courtyard and squinted through the settling dust towards where a small group of people were gathered. They immediately stopped talking and moved towards him, avoiding the smouldering rocks as they did so.

“Ah, you must be the last member of our group!” Hank gripped the newcomer’s hands in one of his and introduced the others in a blur of names and faces.

“Warren. Warren Worthington III.” He instantly regretted giving his full title as the youngest of the group gawped at him, “J-just Warren will do.”

“Are you a king?!” Bobby’s blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he stared at Warren.

“What? No…”

Jean ignored Bobby’s gazing eyes and shook Warren’s hand gently, “Nice to meet you, Warren.”

She tilted her head slightly and squinted at him as though measuring him, causing Warren’s cheeks to burn. Her eyes suddenly widened and she moved around him to look closer at his back, making Warren move back instinctively. He made sure to keep front-facing her so that she couldn’t get any closer.

“We were just showing each other our abilities.” Bobby enthused, “I got a little carried away.” He grimaced and gestured towards the damaged wall. Warren’s mouth fell open,

“You did that?!”

“Not exactly,” Bobby shook his head, “But it was my fault.”

“The damage was my fault.” Scott, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, “Sorry if it scared you.”

There was that word again, ‘scared’, Jean had to bite her tongue in order to remain silent. Why did Scott think people would be so scared of him? He was no different from them, surely he knew he’d be accepted by the group?

Warren smiled, thankful that the blast had been an accident caused by this unassuming guy, “That’s alright. I wasn’t scared,” he watched as Scott’s eyebrows knitted together but continued anyway, “I will have a nice bruise on my ass, though.”

The group laughed and Scott was thankful that the attention had been refocused on their new arrival rather than his mistake.

“So, what’s your mutation, Warren?” Bobby looked him up and down, trying to see an extra head or something.

“Bobby,” Jean smacked his arm, “He hasn’t even stepped foot inside the house yet! Give him a chance to settle in first.”

“What?” Bobby’s pout returned and he did everything but stamp his feet, “That’s not fair! I bet you already read his mind and know what he can do!”

Warren went rigid. Did Jean know his secret already? It usually took him months to work up the trust to tell someone about his mutation and even then it almost always ended with the other person cowering away or laughing at him. He felt his back twitch involuntarily and he tried to change the subject.

“So, do we have our own rooms?”

Scott noticed his reluctance to divulge his secrets and sympathised with him, he knew all too well what it was like to want to keep his mutation to himself. He smiled brightly and gestured towards the house,

“Sure we do! Come on, we’ll find out which room is yours.”

“Yeah,” Bobby grinned like a Cheshire cat, “Welcome to the freak show.”