"Let's return to the concept of Difference," Zhou Yi instructed, his voice ringing with the dispassionate authority of an economist discussing market fluctuations. He used a remote control to pull up a simple, stark projection of two opposing bar graphs—one labeled 'Human Capacity,' the other 'Mutant Potential.'
"The difference is your inherent abilities, which, for the most part, stand as the single greatest competitive advantage one can possess on this planet.
Yet, for all but a privileged few of us—the owners, the financiers, the people who determine where capital flows—the vast majority of humanity relies on the monotony of their mundane skills to survive. They are the backbone of the workforce, the source of tax revenue, and the engine of all real profit."
He gestured toward the graph. "Many of you can fly, yes. But we, the established powers, have our own aircraft, operated by trained, certified pilots. Some of you possess acute sensory perception, making you invincible in close quarters. But we counter that with teams of highly specialized analysts, proprietary surveillance systems, and a predictable chain of command. Some of you can bypass every conceivable obstacle, ignoring layers of physical and digital security. But candidly, unless you intend to steal my industrial secrets, that ability makes absolutely no difference to my quarterly earnings report."
"The core conflict arises because your talents, your Difference, fundamentally interfere with the established economic dignity of the average person. They live, they work, and they earn self-respect by performing a necessary, specialized labor. You, merely by existing, possess the genetic ability to render that hard-won specialization obsolete in an instant. And that, young people, is the root of the problem."
Zhou Yi walked away from the podium, leaning back against the wall.
"We, the ownership class, are always a minority. We require the vast majority of ordinary people—the compliant, predictable, non-superpowered masses—to work for us, to consume our products, to stabilize our systems. We do not need unpredictable variables that demand specialized, costly containment. If we are forced to choose, nearly every shareholder, every politician, and every corporation will choose the side of the ordinary, non-mutant masses. Why? Because they generate more profits, more stability, and more quantifiable returns than your entire, chaotic genetic subset."
He sighed, a measured, theatrical sound. "Humans are a profoundly narrow-minded species, plagued by what the theologians call inherent sin. And one of the most potent of those sins, in the context of our contemporary market, is Envy. Your Difference inevitably incites that envy."
"If I had the genetic gifts that my sister, Sharice, possesses, I assure you, I might have spent my youth as a celebrated, globally famous baseball player instead of a cut-throat businessman. Even I, with my enormous personal wealth, feel that flicker of jealousy. Now imagine the average person who faces job insecurity, medical debt, and existential dread every morning. They see you, inherently superior, possessing a form of biological superiority they can never achieve. Every accidental flicker of your power, every successful display of your gift, only fuels that resentment."
"If someone loses a job, fails to get a promotion, or suffers a personal setback, your mere existence becomes an easy, targetable excuse for their failure. That resentment will inevitably find an outlet."
At that moment, a young man with bright blue eyes stood up, his face etched with genuine confusion. It was Bobby, his body unconsciously radiating a faint chill into the room.
"Sir, if I may ask," Bobby inquired, his voice respectful but confused. "We haven't actively interfered with anyone's life or career. Why is their jealousy so universal and so irrational? Why must we be blamed for their individual shortcomings?"
"An excellent question, Bobby, and thank you for raising it," Zhou Yi replied, gesturing for him to remain standing.
"Let me illustrate this using analogies you might understand. Let's start with a medical comparison. You, as a mutant, have a naturally robust constitution—Ororo confirms you've rarely, if ever, experienced serious illness. But imagine your non-mutant sibling suffers from chronic, expensive medical conditions. They are constantly cycling through hospital visits, enduring nagging from parents about their health, and watching you live a life of perfect, effortless vitality. Do you think they harbor no resentment towards your natural immunity? Even if their health insurance is excellent, the psychic cost of constant comparison is devastating."
Bobby looked genuinely troubled. "Sir, I have a younger brother. Our relationship is strained, but I don't believe his feelings run that deep."
"Perhaps not yet, but resentment is cumulative," Zhou Yi pressed.
"Let's escalate to the economic reality. Imagine you are a robust, non-mutant manual laborer. Because of your health and strength, you consistently outwork your peers and keep your job. Then, an economic recession hits, forcing mass layoffs. You survive the cut because you are undeniably the best. Do you think the laid-off workers, facing poverty, will look at the one or two survivors and feel nothing?"
"But I wouldn't be the only one left," Bobby countered, his scientific mind looking for the logical flaw.
"Correct, you wouldn't be," Zhou Yi agreed, his gaze suddenly shifting to the doorway. He saw Ororo, Jean Grey, and the still-smoldering, visibly restrained Logan standing there, silently listening. He saw the tension in their posture, and he decided to use the observation to make his point brutally clear.
"But what if, in addition to being the best worker, your unique identity—say, you were a mutant—was suddenly and publicly exposed? The laid-off workers will blame the recession on the economy, yes, but they will blame you for their layoff. In their minds, you, the unnatural anomaly, are responsible for taking a job that should have belonged to one of them. That jealousy transforms into a righteous prejudice, sanctioned by collective fear."
"Your difference becomes the official, publicly acceptable scapegoat for a population's fear and failure. The marches, the demonstrations, the terrifying rhetoric you see on the evening news—it all stems from the mobilization of that deeply rooted economic and existential envy."
Zhou Yi leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Do not be naive enough to believe that the problem is merely some distant, abstract politician. The problem is the ordinary people who elect them, and the fear they harbor. The real catalyst for your suffering is the common man, mobilized by envy, given a target by political expediency."
At this point, a tightly wrapped girl in the back—Marie, or "Rogue," wearing her gloves and coat despite the heated room—spoke up, her voice small and anxious. "Sir, if the problem is rooted in these innate differences we can't control, is there any solution at all? If I could choose, I would truly not want to live in this constant state of fear."
Zhou Yi softened his gaze, acknowledging her distress. "My child, there is always a choice, and there is always a path forward. But before you choose, you must understand the second, more fixable flaw: Reputation."
"Who is the most famous mutant known to the human world?" he challenged, not waiting for an answer.
"I will give you my answer, the one shared by the defense contractors, the arms dealers, and the intelligence agencies: Professor Charles Xavier and the man known as Magneto. I know them because they were the primary actors in every political and military escalation since the Cold War. They represent either benign, confusing idealism or violent, terrifying destruction. Now, who do you know?"
The students erupted in whispers, mentioning names like Sharice, or famous X-Men they had encountered, names that meant nothing outside of the Academy's walls.
"Precisely," Zhou Yi continued, suppressing the murmuring with a wave of his hand.
"Your answers are utterly irrelevant to the global public. You have no effective spokesperson. The only figure in the government who attempts to speak on your behalf is Dr. Hank McCoy, and believe me, to the average voter, he is simply a well-dressed man in a blue, heavily furred costume—a character actor, not a political pillar."
"Your community has no effective public relations strategy. No one is stepping forward to defend your collective reputation. So, when a politician uses anti-mutant rhetoric to boost their career, they face no organized pushback from the general public. Your reputation is being actively and publicly destroyed, yet you do nothing to defend it. Worse, those who do act—the anarchists and terrorists—only succeed in cementing the perception that all mutants are violent and unstable."
He paused, looking directly at the three adults standing in the doorway—Logan, who represented the violent instinct; Jean, who represented the quiet, internal power; and Ororo, who represented the desperate search for peace.
"We come to the solution. You have the inherent, extraordinary capability to redeem that reputation and rewrite the narrative. You are not a criminal organization, so do not act like one. You must use your Difference to your advantage."
"Think of Robert Downey Jr.," Zhou Yi suggested, referencing a man whose career had been famously derailed by addiction.
"He was an addict, a failure, an institutional disgrace. But when he was successfully cleaned up, he didn't hide; he took on the mantle of Iron Man, became a billion-dollar hero, and was re-accepted by the public not as a former addict, but as a beloved icon. You can do the same."
"You possess the ability to perform great, public good and reverse this decades-long image crisis. Even if your current reputation is catastrophic, you can rightfully blame your predecessors—the instigators of chaos—for leaving you such a terrible legacy. But it is not unfixable."
It was Ororo, finally breaking her silence, who voiced the faculty's disbelief. Her voice, usually commanding, was laced with skepticism and a hint of desperation.
"So this is your solution? We are to become superheroes? You have to be joking, Yi."
Zhou Yi turned fully toward the doorway, his eyes locking with hers. His expression was deadly serious. He leaned on the confidence of his financial success and his intimate knowledge of human greed.
"Why on earth would I be joking, Ororo? I am giving you the one strategic choice that yields the maximum possible result. You are facing two paths, and you must choose now, for the young ones, for the future of your species."
"Path A: You continue to live as a shadow mutant. You hide your Difference, you live in constant, low-grade fear, attempting to blend into a society that fundamentally despises you for the mere cost of your existence. You try every way to conceal your gifts, living small, anxious lives like that girl in the coat, who cannot even feel comfortable in a heated room." He nodded toward Marie.
"Or," he continued, his voice rising, capturing the drama of the moment, "Path B: You embrace the Superhero's Mantle. You become extraordinary agents of justice and public safety, upheld by the media, cheered by the masses, and financially supported by the very corporations I control, who will happily profit off your celebrity. You become proud of your Difference, and in time, you force the ordinary people to become proud of your Difference, too."