Man was created equal, they say, yet the same cannot be said about the power they possess.
Eighty years ago, a South American baby was born — the first Mutant. The locals called him K'uk'ulkan and El Niño sin Amor. Westerners called him the Submariner. However, as years passed, the child grew into a man, and his name became as common as a household spoon; he was referred to as Namor.
And the world feared that name.
Mutantkind eventually became as ordinary as the common man; yet, they were never treated as such. Like animals, they were locked away, used as lab rats or for labor.
It wasn't until the seventies that Mutants were given human rights. Even still, those rights were rudimentary. It wasn't until the nineties that they could marry legally. Around then, something strange started happening around the world. Humans, born without any superhuman abilities, started developing powers later in life. They weren't Mutants; they had no X-Gene, yet their mutations were comparable. This bunch was labeled as Mutates.
You'd expect that Mutates would receive the same ridicule as their cousins, but you'd be mistaken. Instead, they were given the resources to cultivate their newfound powers in an effort known as the Avengers Protocol. Eventually, these children grew up into heroes who called themselves the Avengers. It was around then that a group of Mutants called the X-Men appeared, similarly saving lives.
In 2025, the Avengers, the X-Men, and the United States government combined forces and created the Superhuman Registration Act. All superhumans, Mutate or Mutant, were required to reveal their identities and receive a license in order to legally engage in superhero activity. The Avengers Protocol was transformed; rather than being an underground operation, it became a high school program. The X-Men did the same.
Later that year, Avengers Academy and Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters opened their doors for the first time, both committed to raising the next generation of heroes.
One hundred high school seniors traveled from all corners of the country to take written, psychological, and physical entrance examinations at Avengers Academy. A month later, only thirty returned.
Peter Parker was among the few, a Mutate with the abilities of a spider.
"I'm gonna be late on my first day!" he muttered, his half-opened bag belching pens and papers as he tripped his way toward the Education Hall.
A minute later, Peter burst into a mum classroom.
"Sorry for being late!" While a sea of stormy glares threw daggers at him, a radiant smile welcomed him beside the whiteboard that read, 'Mr. Rodgers'.
"Welcome!" said the blond, blue-eyed, and built man holding a clipboard. "You must be... Victor!"
"Victor?" Peter repeated.
"Von Doom," the teacher continued.
"I'm Peter Parker."
"Parker..." The teacher double checked, triple checked, then quadruple checked his enrollment sheet — not a Parker in sight.
"I don't see a Parker on the list. Are you sure you're in the right class?"
"Or the right school," one of the students said, compelling the class to laugh.
"Hey, there will be no class clownery." Mr. Rodger's voice turned stern as stone. "Try next door."
Peter shuffled to the next room over. Once more, he was met by glares — fearful ones this time. A buzz in his skull drew his attention toward the front of the class. A long-haired man, tall-statured and just as wide as the other teacher, speared him with a look.
If the other guy was Steve Rodgers... Then this must be Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier!
"Peter Parker," the beast growled. "Why is it that you think I already have your name memorized?"
"Because of my spectacular exam scores?"
Mr. Barnes' body was a star ready to explode, quaking as the metal vents of his metal right arm hissed. With a deep breath, he said, "No. It means that I know that you have already decided that this class isn't worth your time. Which means you aren't worth mine. Get out of my classroom."
Peter's already fractured world shattered into pieces around him. He didn't make a scene. He didn't cry — not in front of his peers. Mouth zipped shut, he turned his back on the hero course and found the door.
"Is what I would say if it were up to me. But it's not. Lucky you. Hurry up and sit down. I have a class to teach."
If not for the death gaze, Peter would have thanked Mr. Barnes for a second chance; however, had he spoken, he believed Mr. Barnes would prove that looks can indeed kill.
Shockingly, the only open seat was the one right in front of the teacher's desk. Peter reluctantly threw himself onto the chair; meanwhile, the blond student next to him laughed.
"Dude, you should've seen the look on your face. I wish I had gotten a picture."
"Have something to share with the class, Mr. Storm?"
"Uh... No, sir!" Mr. Storm stiffened up and faced forward, the girl beside him shaking her head.
"So you wanna be Avengers," Barnes said. "All I see is a couple of class clowns, a kid who can't set an alarm, and a bunch of overconfident fools. I bet when you heard that Captain America would be teaching one of the classes, you thought that he would be your homeroom teacher, didn't you? Why's that? Because you're in the advanced course?"
The rhetoric was met by silence and broken eye contact.
"That's why I told Fury to have me teach the advanced course. Cocky little shits like you need to be humbled, brought back down to Earth. You took a few exams and did well. That doesn't mean shit here. Doesn't mean shit to me. From here on out, you're all clean slates. At the drop of a dime, if I feel that you're inadequate, I'll swap you out for someone more deserving from the Stripes course.
There are kids in that class who don't even have powers. Instead, they trained their whole lives to match the strength that they were born with. They're hungrier than you are, so keep that in mind the next time you wanna show up late or be a class clown."
You'd think the classroom was a library; it was so noiseless from then on out. Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, eruptions of laughter made the silence all the more deafening.
The palpable tension made lunch taste all the better, though it was prepared by world-class chefs, which might've helped.
As he'd done in years past, Peter sat alone at lunch. His grand entrance during the first period compelled him to keep his head low.
"Peter Parker!"
Peter nearly jolted out of his seat. It was that boy he'd sat next to in class, the one called Mr. Storm by Barnes.
"Name's Johnny. Didn't get to introduce myself since Mr. Grumpy interrupted me," he said, inviting himself to sit beside Peter.
"I like your style, man. Fashionably late is totally my thing, but my sister is a hard ass and wouldn't let me-"
Johnny's head jerked forward — could it have been a neck spasm, Peter wondered. Though when the young lady, who looked like the spitting image of Johnny, materialized behind him, it was transparent that it was a reaction to a sisterly smack.
"You idiot!"
"See? Told you." Johnny preeminently dodged, as if sisterly abuse was something he was used to. The smack he anticipated never came.
"Ignore my idiot little brother," she said.
"Little brother? We're twins..."
"And I was born first." The barely older sister looked at Peter, sitting across from him and Johnny. "Anyway, my name is Susan, but most people call me Sue."
"Nice to meet you," Peter said. "I'm Peter."
"Yeah, I think we all got your name." Susan's laugh was like a relaxant. Women hardly approached Peter at his old school, nor did guys unless they wanted to hassle him. It was strange, but it was a welcome change.
"There you are, Susan." Another classmate emerged, sitting beside the beautiful blonde. His young face shared a smile with the blonde beauty; his greying temples gave him a more mature impression.
"This is my boyfriend, Reed," Sue said. Reed's arm stretched, literally, over the table.
"Reed Richards." While Reed and Peter shook hands, the lunch table sank rightward. Beside Peter was a rock formation; upon closer inspection, it was a young man made of orange stone.
"Whoa, big fella, don't bring the whole table down!"
"Shut it, matchstick!"
Peter's eyes felt magnetically pulled toward the boy of stone. The ridges on his body looked painful, and they were. Still, the boy wore a smile.
"Call me Ben." There was such gravelly potency behind each syllable that Peter could feel Ben's voice rattle the air.
"Oh, that's Uncle's name..." Peter admitted, a bit sourly.
"Uncle Ben's got some smart parents," Ben jested, elbowing Peter. The ridges were painful.
"So, what do you do, Pete?" Johnny cultivated a flame in his palms, setting his plate atop it like a stove. "I got fire, my sister can turn invisible, Reed can stretch, and Ben's power is being ugly."
"I'm gonna snap you in half," Ben mumbled.
"I have all the powers of a Spider," Peter confessed. "Super agility, super strength, and I can stick to walls. I also made these." Peter flashed what looked like a bracelet hidden beneath his sleeve. "It's a web-shooter I made. It lets me shoot webs like a spider can."
Peter jumped as Reed's neck stretched over the table, getting a closer look at Peter's invention. "Intriguing. Those webs... What're they made of?"
"Way too much to list off the top of my head. I can show you later, I have it written down."
Reed's neck rubber-banded back into place with a resonant snap.
"I would've thought the webs came outta you," Johnny said.
"Johnny, that's gross," Susan added.
"Sorry."
The five of them chatted until the lunch bell chimed. They returned to their classroom, but Mr. Barnes wasn't there. In his place was a man with shoulder-length, blonde hair.
"Greetings, students! Take your seats!"
As the herd found their seats, the man wrote his name on the board.
"My name is Thor Odonson. You may refer to me as either Thor or Mr. Odonson. Fear not, for I am your affable history teacher, unlike the Grumpy Soldier."
Half the class laughed, the other half was trying to figure out what affable meant.
Despite it being the first day, Thor didn't hold back in his lesson. Though he intended for a friendlier environment, he did not intend to make the class any more fun in comparison to Mr. Barnes.
The kids left class with homework and a book report due on Namor, the first mutant.
The students of the Stars course, another name for the advanced course, went from one child of Odin to another as their physical education teacher was Aldrif Odinsdottir, also known as Angela. Unlike her brother, there wasn't an attempt to befriend her students. The way she made her students line up beside the track, she was closer to a drill sergeant.
Johnny admired her red hair and the way it could hardly cover her defined back muscles. He pictured what her hands would feel like wrapped around his neck as she choke slammed him; wanting to see it happen, he whistled at her as she passed by him.
Fourteen pairs of wide eyes aimed at him — either impressed, disgusted, or fearful of his guts on display. Ms. Odinsdottir stopped on a dime, turned to Johnny, and towered over him. As her shadow loomed over him, he beamed.
A golden spear materialized at her fingertips, its blade skimming Johnny's neck.
"You are the unscrupulous one, yes? I was warned of you, Jonathan Storm. It's a reaction that you're after, hm? Well, sadly, there will be no such thing. Instead, you've earned your friends a ten-mile run at the end of class."
What was the smile on Johnny's face transmogrified into a grimace. Punishment he sought, though what was received wasn't what he had in mind.
"I've heard from Rodgers that what you call Physical Education is typically reduced to play time in ordinary schools. Sad for you, this is not that. Barnes has told you all about how your positions in the class matter, yes? Well, today, you will receive a tangible rank based on your physical performance. Whoever is in last place will be demoted to the Stripes course, and their position will be filled by the Stripes' number one student."
Peers turned to enemies at the drop of a hat; comradery was a thing of the past. Teammates? Friends? To hell with it all. From this point forward, it was every man for himself.