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….
We reached our destination by evening and descended into a hidden hangar beneath a basketball court in the twilight.
I'm not kidding, if in cartoons they flew out of hangar doors in some cliffside, here they genuinely built an airfield under a basketball court that slid aside when takeoff or landing was required.
It looked cool, but I was starting to suspect that Professor X allowed himself a few liberties regarding wiping the memories of those around him.
Otherwise, I simply don't know how he explained himself to the construction crew that dug all this and installed the mechanisms.
Although, he is rich, and money is a unique superpower in a capitalist society.
Listening to our pilots' chatter with half an ear, I refreshed and strengthened my magical mental defenses just in case, almost missing the moment the landing gear touched the solid surface. I had to admit, this VTOL jet had a rather soft landing.
Inside the hangar, a bald, dignified gentleman in a wheelchair and a red-haired lady in a red dress were already waiting for us.
"Hello. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Dr. Jean Grey," the telepath introduced himself, rolling closer to the ramp. "And you must be Wolverine, Loki, and Rogue?" With a polite smile, his gaze swept over our faces in turn.
"Hey," Logan responded gruffly, looking around the underground landing pad with the expression of a man who is, on one hand, impressed, and on the other, expects nothing good from fate anymore.
"Good day," I nodded to the mutants, noting out of the corner of my eye with amusement how Rogue was genuinely shying away from everything.
"Or rather, good night. And I hope we shouldn't expect Dr. Banner to show up? His green problem isn't something I'd want to stay overnight with."
"I beg your pardon?" the professor was surprised.
"As I understand it, you have a mutant interest club here, and there aren't that many guys with doctorates among mutants. So meeting two in one place makes one expect a third. And don't twirl your finger at your temple behind my back, Cyclops. I am far less insane than I seem… or more than you think, but those are details."
"Scott," the professor looked disapprovingly at the guy behind me.
"Sorry," he looked down.
"No, we have no Dr. Banner here," the telepath turned his attention back to us. "But be that as it may, I am glad to welcome you to my home."
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Logan replied. "Though I still don't fully understand what all this is for."
"We will try to answer your questions, but I believe the hangar is not the best place for that. I suggest we proceed to my office."
"Fine," Wolverine agreed. Rogue, being the youngest and understanding little, preferred to nod silently.
With that, the entire delegation left the room with the plane and entered a silver corridor, designed with a claim to futurism just like the landing pad.
It was bright, clean, and overall very similar to the movies inside. But Xavier didn't let us examine the secret part of his home for too long, leading us to an elevator.
A short ride later, we stepped out into a completely different setting: wooden panels, paintings, draperies, and various pleasant little things like clocks and bronze statuettes on cabinets.
The office matched the estate, a high-quality and expensively furnished room, but without screaming luxury. I would even say it was quite cozy here.
"So?" settling into a comfortable chair in front of the desk behind which Xavier had already wheeled himself, I continued the conversation.
"Allow me to start from a slight distance," the man steepled his fingers, "with this place and what I do."
"Hmm…" Wolverine wasn't thrilled with the idea, but didn't go beyond a disgruntled grunt.
"This place is a home for gifted children. Gifted in their own way. Here we teach mutants how to control and develop their abilities, and we also protect them from the threats of the outside world. Anonymity is a mutant's best defense in a hostile society. Cyclops, Storm, and Jean were my first students," the professor nodded at the named individuals.
"I protected them, taught them to control their abilities, and over time, to teach others to do the same." Rogue received an encouraging smile.
"Most of the students are runaways. Frightened, alone… some possess such power that they are dangerous to themselves and those around them, but here they are among their own. They are accepted here and not shunned."
"Wow…" the girl clearly liked the postulate. "Can you teach me not to put anyone who touches me into a coma?!"
"We will make every possible effort," Xavier smiled again. "I cannot promise it will work, but you will always have a place to stay and people who accept you for who you are."
"And what's the catch?" the regenerator wasn't used to trusting anyone.
"There is no catch," Charles answered calmly. "We do not hold anyone by force, and each student is free to choose what they need most. Those who wish can leave the college at any moment. And even after they finish the program, they have a choice: either return to society as educated young people or stay here to teach others and become part of our big family."
"Forgive me, Professor," the itch seized me again, and I simply couldn't hold my tongue, "but how do these words about benevolence and protection correlate with a hidden hangar, a high-tech stealth jet, and a couple of individuals dressed in something suspiciously resembling special forces uniforms? This looks more like a PMC than a school for 'gifted' kids."
"That is the second part of our life. In this world, there are mutants endowed with incredible power, and many of them do not share my respect for humanity, nor the idea of coexistence with humans. If they are not opposed, humanity will perish. That is exactly what everything you listed exists for, Loki. All that and much more besides."
"So you founded and maintain a certain group carrying specific cultural, ideological, or political doctrines, and you permit the use of violence and heavy military equipment to defend said doctrines and interests?"
"In other words, you aren't strangers to premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against non-combatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine agents, usually intended to influence an audience?"
"Hey, we don't do anything like that against civilians!" Cyclops was outraged.
….
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