Charles' POV
Lynn, it's too tough on you. Get Jean to do it, please, I pleaded in a worried tone.
Then it'll be too tough on you, Lynn swiftly retorted.
The outcome is going to be the same, Charles. Just let me do it, alright? I promise you, I'll be fine, Lynn reassured and her stubborn determination inadvertently wavered mine.
Her mind was initially somber, lingering with a tinge of upset, but as I agreed, her troubles were instantly doused by waves of excitement that glazed her frame with sheer enthusiasm. It was not so much of a chipper event, and she was not unsuitably gleeful, just sufficiently eradicating her face from gloom so as not to unsettle the children too.
Raven kindly offered to push but Lynn singlehandedly wheeled out, maintaining her straight course with the mild aid of telekinesis. The pool of adults trailed along her composed and pleasant frame as they all rejoined the chattery kids whose mirthful conversations quietened upon the scene drastically changed.
Their fascinating cartoon had been snapped away by an urgent news bulletin. In the corner of the display, a conspicuous timer counted down to the last minute before the President's announcement as the anchor lady narrated a brief summary of the attack that occurred in the chamber we were about to enter.
Courteously beckoning for Jones, Lynn carefully took the boy's hand and sought his consent to broadcast the images I would be projecting into her mind. He agreed unhesitatingly and listened attentively to the meticulous instructions he was provided, every unwitting blink through those thin wired glasses causing a fleeting flicker on television.
"Are you ready?" Lynn investigated with her signature benevolent smile and Jones heaved a deep breath, nodding.
Both of them shut their eyes, Lynn organizing her thoughts as I filled up her mind. Ordering them neatly, she channeled the appropriate ones to Jones and he concentrated to transmit them onto the large screen. Spontaneously, the videography of the President's profile as he began to address the nation transformed into the backstage setting with camera gear, secret servicemen, secretaries and a congregation of authorized press strewn in the area unseen from the lens.
The students gasped, their whispers evolving louder with speculations. Lynn, however, was too preoccupied, locked in full focus with me, to spare any energy to appease them but thankfully, Jean possessed the authority to bring them to a hush, preventing any distractions to the two, generously straining.
"My fellow Americans, in this time of adversity, we are being offered a moment. A moment to recognize a growing threat in our own population and take a unique role in the shape of human events..." McKenna recited from his script, tapering off only when he realized the strange pin-drop silence of the room he sat in.
"Did we just lose the feed? Are we still live?" McKenna challenged in a baffled tone, observing as his teleprompter died while everything else in his vicinity froze.
We were stationed at a short distance from the actual building, where Kurt had transported us onto the vast lawns once laid waste under an uprooted stadium. Gathering solemnly on the luscious greenery obviously well-restored, our party was shielded under a deceptive shelter creating the illusion that the plain terrace remained unembellished apart from the healthy hectare of grass.
While I secretly suspended all other activity in the Oval Office, including the program that was disseminating to all networks as a fuzzy page simulating a disconnected communication, Storm effectively wielded her powers in the region of our final destination.
Sunny skies, not scorching but fine, accompanied by light breezes, blessed the citizens of Washington. Yet, within seconds, the puffy cumulus clouds were masked under their malicious and ominous counterparts.
Tenacious winds howled like the wolves on a full moon's night. The contrasting combination of blue and white had vanished, fading into a thick curtain of grey. Blinding streaks of lightning slithered across the venomous face, blasting bright flashes through the windows to reveal our mysterious presence.
Under the veil of Storm's handiwork, Kurt secretly teleported us into the lackluster surroundings amidst the immobilized humans.
It was definitely my last intention to appear hostile, but all the youngsters, apart from Kurt, wore aloof expressions complementing their inhospitable combat stances that contradictorily suggested so.
Four of them spaced themselves equally around the back of my chair in a protective formation, Storm's completely white eyes staring at the President with ultimate displeasure. Logan was likewise cross, but his face was pretty much how it always was. Bobby and Rogue rooted themselves stationary, but their accelerated vitals inevitably exposed their enormous anxieties.
On the other hand, Kurt was rather relaxed coming back to the place he once thought was a horrible nightmare, squatting himself on the protruding ledge of the exquisite fireplace mantle as he casually wagged his tail.
"Good evening, Mr. President," I greeted amiably but his stunned eyes widened further, illustrating the near impossible, as he spotted Kurt waving at him with a chummy smile.
"Please, don't be alarmed. We're not going to harm anyone," I affirmed in a cordial tone, slowly advancing, but no one could really blame him for not completely trusting that we came in peace.
Calmly, the President rose from his chair, backing up two steps. Kurt swallowed awkwardly, recalling his friendly gesture as he pursed his lips, frustration and dejection suffocating his good spirits.
McKenna strived to muster an undaunted front but a muted scream of panic replaced the blood that rapidly withdrew from his face. Without his assistants, he scrambled to recollect the measures and procedures he should undertake when being confronted by terrorists, eventually only coming up with the most basic.
"Who are you people?" He interrogated intolerantly, finally breaking out of his dumbfounded state.
"We're mutants. My name is Charles Xavier," I answered politely.
"Please, sit down," I urged nicely but the man's intense frown never faltered as he stood warily.
"I'd rather stand," he insisted in a bitter tone and I respectfully conceded.
"Rogue," I signaled and the girl cautiously paced towards the President, laying our retrieved documents neatly onto his desk before meekly retreating to her original position.
"These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker," I informed plainly and McKenna glared at me with unreserved skepticism as he grudgingly picked up the plastic folder, thumbing through its contents.
"How did you get this?" He grilled fiercely, piqued by the series of classified information he reckoned was savagely stolen.
"Let's just say, I know a little girl who can walk through walls," I resolved honestly and Kurt giggled but his instinctive response quickly evaporated into the pensive atmosphere.
"I've never seen this," he claimed as intermittent bolts of electricity shined onto his prevailing annoyed and unimpressed face while he vigorously studied the exceptionally confidential intelligence.
"I know," I replied softly.
"Then you'll also know I don't respond to threats," he declared sharply, jerking his head up with an impatient glare.
"Mr. President, this is not a threat. This is an opportunity," I boldly argued.
"There are forces in this world, mutant and human alike, who believe a war is coming. You will see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties on both sides," I demonstrated in a harmonious tone but his doubts lurked obstinately, refusing to be convinced.
"Mr. President. What you are about to tell the world is true," I concurred, briskly propelling myself up to him and tucked my chair directly before his elegantly varnished table.
"This is a moment," I stressed, gazing at him with utmost sincerity.
"A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future," I recommended in emphasis and McKenna stared back at me, his head swirling with dilemmas.
Countless considerations tumbled through his mind. The oversight of his predecessors he was reluctant to commit. Their graciousness and wiseness was what he aspired to achieve, but without blatantly condoning the flourish of our species.
Weighing the various facts, the possibly far-reaching consequences plagued him. Despite all the independent decisions he had to make as one of the highest ranking authorities across the globe, the man was never more troubled.
Gradually, however, his prudent analysis scaled him to a side. The facts objectively tipped him into areas he was unwilling to admit were sensible, or even sane, but instinct told him he was right.
"We're here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours," I advised encouragingly.
"We'll be watching," Logan reminded with a haughty smirk as Storm conjured a dramatic series of lightning and thunders to mark our impending exit.
XXXXX
Hello everyone! We're finally at the end of X2! And hmm, I think it's evident I won't be able to complete the book in 150 chapters, so:
Good (bad) news — I'm extending this volume to 200 chapters to tell all the stories I want to.
I hope everyone will continue to support me.
Have a lovely weekend!
❤️❤️
