X-MEN
The First Class 3/10
Chapter Three: The Spark of Revolution
North Lawn — The White House
Washington, D.C.
The wind carried a low hum of tension across the barricades. Beyond the wrought-iron fence that circled the White House, crowds had gathered—press, civilians, government agents—held back only by thin lines of Secret Service and riot police. Every available camera on the eastern seaboard was pointed toward the lawn. Helicopters hovered overhead, broadcasting live. Across the globe, television screens displayed the same image.
A man in crimson armor with purple highlights, floating above the steps of the most powerful office in the world.
Magneto.
His presence bent the metal railings beneath him like clay. The air shimmered around him with magnetic energy. He wore a deep red armored bodysuit, sculpted at the chest and shoulders, with long black gloves and boots. A billowing cape—dark violet with crimson lining—snapped in the autumn wind. His helmet, smooth, angular, and devilishly elegant, obscured his eyes, revealing only a sharp jaw and a furrowed brow beneath the etched edges.
He raised a hand, and all sound seemed to fall away.
Then, his voice boomed across the lawn and through the speakers of every television in America:
"This is the end of your era. The age of fragile men hiding behind walls and weapons. The age of fear.
I am not here to make war. But understand this—change will come. You can embrace it, or you can suffer beneath it.
Mutants are not your disease. We are the cure for a dying world. And the world you built… is over."
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Reporters shouted questions. Police aimed rifles.
Magneto extended his fingers. The rifles shook. Dozens of weapons—from rooftops, from guards on the lawn, even those held by armored agents—ripped into the air, metal bending as they spiraled upward and hovered around him like a halo of death.
"So much fear…" he muttered, almost sadly. "Such a shame. It didn't have to go this way."
His fingers tensed—
FWASH!
A beam of ruby-red energy crashed into him from across the lawn, sending sparks and steel scattering in all directions. Magneto recoiled mid-air, tumbling backward. The weapons fell uselessly to the grass.
A figure stood at the opposite end of the lawn. Four figures, in fact. All wearing masks and full tactical versions of their X-Men uniforms—prepared, efficient, ready for war. Cyclops, Beast, Iceman, and Angel.
From the shadows near the crowd, Jean gasped. She and Xavier stood among civilians behind the fence, cloaked by a subtle telepathic veil. People near them didn't even realize they were there.
"We're not going to let you hurt anyone," Cyclops shouted across the lawn.
Magneto slowly rose back into the air, cracking his neck.
"So… The professor has sent his students."
He extended his hand.
"Then allow me to introduce mine."
The figures near him emerged. The ground behind him seemed to warp as they stepped forward.
Scarlet Witch, clad in deep red, hands glowing with chaotic, crackling crimson—or more accurately, scarlet—energy flowing from her. Her hair billowed as if caught in a storm no one else could feel.
Quicksilver, clad in blue and silver, vibrated with motion even when still. He smirked and cracked his knuckles, silver hair wild as if it had been on a storm.
Toad, a hunched, green-skinned figure, crouched low with a grin full of crooked teeth.
And behind them, The Blob—massive and immovable, his purple outfit and heavy boots denting the White House lawn with every step.
"Brotherhood," Magneto said simply.
"Stand for the blood that binds us—and strike down those who would deny it."
Cyclops didn't wait.
"X-Men — go!"
Beams fired. Wings flared. Ice spread across the ground as Iceman launched into action, encasing Toad's feet in a solid block of ice before the mutant leapt skyward, twisting in midair.
Angel dove toward Scarlet Witch but was blown off course by a hex wave that fractured the air itself. He crashed near a bush.
Beast clashed with the Blob, his agile flips landing dozens of strikes — all to no effect. Blob laughed and tried to crush Hank with a massive hand, but the boy genius slipped beneath and struck at pressure points, throwing the Blob off balance.
Quicksilver dashed through the chaos, slamming into Iceman and sending him sprawling across a frozen path. Bobby groaned and tried to summon an ice wall to slow him down, but it was useless — Quicksilver was in one place one second, and somewhere else the next.
On the sidelines, Jean turned to Xavier. "Why don't you stop Magneto? You could get into his mind and make him stop, couldn't you?"
Xavier's expression was somber. "Try it, Jean. Reach out to him."
Jean hesitated, then focused. The world faded, and she reached out with her thoughts like fingers into the air — trying to find his presence. She found it: a dense sphere of magnetic pressure, hovering with calm fury… but she couldn't touch him. Her powers pushed and recoiled, as if hitting a steel wall.
"I… I can't," she said. "It's like… he's sealed off."
Xavier nodded. "The helmet. It blocks psychic interference."
"So you can't stop him…"
"No," Charles admitted, a solemn look in his eyes — regret for their past friendship, and the implication of another way to stop him flickering in his gaze. "Not this way."
Back on the field, Cyclops was shouting orders. "Angel — flank from above! Beast, draw Blob out of position! Iceman, keep Quicksilver slipping or frozen — whichever works!"
The X-Men fought with everything they had, but the Brotherhood was stronger, more ruthless. Scarlet Witch tore up gravity around her, making reality itself her plaything. Blob charged like a bulldozer — nothing could stop him. Toad ricocheted in every direction like a demon on springs. Magneto hovered calmly above it all, eyes scanning for the perfect moment to strike.
Cyclops was knocked back. Beast was winded. Iceman struggled to keep Quicksilver from disrupting their formations. Angel was trying to help the others.
It was slipping.
They decided to change strategy. Cyclops fired a beam directly at Scarlet Witch, throwing her off balance in midair. Angel grabbed Toad and pulled him into aerial combat. Iceman focused on freezing the Blob, while Beast, having recognized the pattern in Quicksilver's movements, shattered the ground where the speedster would land next. Quicksilver slipped — it mostly worked.
Magneto surged forward.
He was about to tear a plate of his own armor free — reshape it into a weapon — when the sound of rotor blades filled the air.
Dozens of black helicopters broke through the clouds, fast and low, surrounding the lawn from every angle.
Jean looked up. "Who…?"
Magneto narrowed his eyes. His hand rose — his intent cristal clear, to squish down any helicopter that came close, as they did so he clenched his fist, Jean got startled waiting for a sound.
But… nothing happened.
The copters didn't slow. His powers didn't respond.
He focused harder, veins straining but still nothing.
Xavier's voice murmured beside Jean. "Those are not made of metal, non magnetic. Smart move."
On the side of one helicopter was a bold white insignia.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
The Brotherhood froze. Scarlet Witch faltered. Quicksilver cursed and zipped backward.
Magneto exhaled, the fury in his eyes replaced by calculation.
"This isn't over," he hissed.
He raised both hands, ripping metal sewer grates from the ground and bending them into a sphere. In a flash, he, Wanda, and the others were engulfed in a magnetic cocoon that launched them into the sky like a missile.
The Brotherhood was gone.
The lawn was torn apart. Trees broken, lights shattered. But the White House still stood. And no lives had been lost.
The X-Men stood together — bruised, gasping, victorious.
Cyclops looked around him. "Is everyone okay?"
Angel nodded. Iceman gave a thumbs-up through a split lip, looking like he might vomit. Beast groaned and smiled, lying in the grass.
Jean and Xavier stepped forward, the veil of telepathy shifting into one that obscured their faces.
From the building behind them, a new figure approached — flanked by Secret Service. The President of the United States. He stopped in front of the group of teenagers.
"You've got some explaining to do," he said.
Then, after a pause he said "But… thank you."
Jean stood at the edge of history, still not sure what her place was in this strange new world.
But one thing was clear.
It had begun.
To Be Continued...