The East Room, the largest chamber in the White House, could accommodate up to three hundred guests and was primarily used for grand receptions, balls, and commemorative ceremonies...
It had witnessed numerous pivotal moments in the nation's history; holding the remains of seven presidents, and hosting the weddings of several presidential daughters.
Roosevelt had once watched Japanese sumo wrestling here, while Kennedy had enjoyed elegant musical performances. It was, in essence, a microcosm of the nation's tumultuous journey...
Sean pushed the wheelchair-bound Professor as the announcement of the Mutant Registration Act concluded.
As the primary advocate for this initiative, Vice President Underwood had established a strong cooperative relationship with the Xavier Institute. This seasoned politician knew exactly how to demonstrate sincerity.
For the government, implementing the Mutant Registration Act, granting mutants a degree of fair treatment, and overturning long-standing discriminatory attitudes was not particularly difficult... just slightly troublesome.
The same methods once used to address racial inequality could be applied to mutants with little variation.
"What comes next?" the weary Professor asked softly.
As one of the two foremost leaders of mutantkind, his public endorsement of the Registration Act had drawn significant attention.
Had the government unilaterally imposed the legislation, it would have sparked massive backlash and resistance. But with mutants themselves advocating for it, the impact was entirely different...
"I'll continue rallying support for mutants, highlighting the injustices you've endured and the dark history of oppression. First, we need to evoke sympathy in some people. Humans love taking sides; moderates, radicals, supremacists, mutant rights groups… factions will emerge quickly. All we need to do is observe and occasionally steer the discourse." Sean seemed to have a plan ready.
As he had said before, mutants were an indispensable force in his vision for the future. Rather than leaving them to their own devices, that is, allowing the Professor and Magneto to continue their endless feud and wreak havoc... it was far better to integrate and utilize them as a valuable asset.
"But you should prepare yourself, Professor. Even after centuries, Black people in this country still haven't achieved true equality. Likewise, mutants will face a long and arduous journey." The young man gave the mutant leader a sobering reality check.
The Professor sighed, "I understand. We've hidden in the shadows for too long. Even a glimmer of hope worth fighting for is enough."
He had chosen to trust Sean, and the young man had not disappointed him...
Regardless of his motives, Sean had indeed worked hard to advance their cause. Though this step was drastic, if it could bring the hope of peace, it was worth the struggle... even with all the suffering and hardship along the way.
"Professor, use your influence and abilities to guide mutantkind. In return, I'll provide enough incentives to get those politicians moving. One thing I admire about this country is that, whether it's political maneuvering or racial struggles, everything ultimately boils down to a game of money. Capital governs all."
Sean pushed the wheelchair through the Blue Room, its French royal-style décor exuding opulence and elegance, adorned with exquisite antiques and gilded floral patterns.
"I don't want to resort to extreme measures…" the Professor murmured after a long hesitation.
Sean wasn't surprised by this response. Had the Professor been an unscrupulous schemer or a hypocrite, Magneto and human governments would have been irrelevant long ago.
The world's most powerful telepath's greatest weakness was his merciful nature and idealistic naivety... his morality being the only chain that restrained him.
"Don't worry. This is a peaceful transition. No blood will be shed." Sean patted the bald elder's shoulder reassuringly, "I'll ensure mutants see the benefits of the Registration Act as soon as possible."
"Change must begin at the Institute." Sean laid out his plan.
The Professor set aside his worries and listened quietly. As the helmsman of mutantkind's ship, especially with Magneto and the Brotherhood lying low, he was now effectively their sole leader.
"The younger children can remain at the Institute, but the older students should reintegrate into society. They aren't birds meant to be caged... they need a broader world." Sean spoke methodically, "Umbrella and Oscorp will provide a certain number of job opportunities, allowing them to live normal lives. As for young men like John and Bobby, I can furnish them with credentials and recommend them to State University of New York to complete their education..."
"...Additionally, Umbrella has established a private security firm. Given mutants' innate abilities, with some training, they can quickly excel. The new company has signed long-term contracts with the Department of Defense. Joining the Umbrella Security Service (U.S.S.) doesn't mean becoming mercenaries... they'll collaborate with military units under the instruction of retired Colonel Emil Blonsky."
Sean had mapped out numerous paths for mutants...
He had done his homework, understanding the aspirations of the Institute's young students. Those like Bobby Drake, who yearned to return to family life, could secure respectable jobs or attend prestigious universities. Meanwhile, fiery personalities like Pyro would find the Umbrella Security Service an ideal fit.
When everyone could find their place, the collective identity of mutants would gradually weaken, assimilating them into the bedrock of human society.
And Sean, the architect of this carefully orchestrated plan, would quietly erect a fence, corralling mutants within... Even reaping immense benefits in the process.
"The Umbrella Security Service?" the Professor murmured before silently accepting the arrangement.
Sean wheeled the bald elder onto the Blue Room's balcony, which overlooked the sprawling lawn and lush trees. Among them stood a magnolia tree planted by President Jackson in memory of his late wife, now a century-old testament to the nation's growth...
"Professor, we're entering a new era, one of transformation and opportunity, but also chaos and conflict. Technological advancements are propelling society forward, enabling new powers to rise rapidly. Nations clash, organizations oppose one another, factions collide… We must forge new strength to ensure mutants claim a firm foothold on this planet."
The bald elder lowered his head, his eyes flickering with complex emotions. After a long silence, he finally spoke, "Did you say the same to Erik?"
"With some differences." Sean answered candidly, "Your old friend, Magneto, prioritizes tangible gains. He would never accept mutants becoming subservient to humans, so I gave him another option..."
"...A foothold in Africa, a continent rife with warlords and political instability, offering ample room for the Brotherhood to thrive. This benefits mutantkind too. Magneto can serve as a warning to human governments, reminding them mutants aren't lambs for slaughter."
The young man rested a hand on the Professor's shoulder as afternoon sunlight bathed them, "You are the symbol of peace, the beacon of light. Magneto is the clenched fist, the embodiment of force. The former lulls humanity's wariness; the latter keeps governments vigilant. Only by advancing both can we secure the future."
"And what about you, Sean? What role do you play in all this?" the Professor asked, looking up.
Sean pondered for a moment before shaking his head in silence.
His gaze stretched beyond the lawn and buildings, as if piercing through to the vast cosmos where a fearsome galactic warlord led an armada toward Earth.
That was the true challenge awaiting him...