Night settled quietly over Xavier's mansion.
A bright full moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale silver glow across the estate and the surrounding woods. On an ordinary evening, the mansion's living room would be filled with noise at this hour. After dinner, the younger mutants often gathered there to talk, joke, or compete in small games, turning the place into the liveliest spot in the building.
Tonight, however, the room was completely silent.
The reason was obvious to everyone.
Tomorrow would bring the decisive battle.
After another full day of intense training, the mutants were exhausted both physically and mentally. Instead of gathering for entertainment, most of them had gone straight to their rooms to rest and recover their strength for what lay ahead.
Only one person remained awake.
Hank McCoy sat alone at a desk in the quiet room, staring thoughtfully at the syringe in his hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he studied the vial of medicine with an unusually complicated expression.
When he had first created the serum, he had believed it would suppress the X-Gene inside his body and restore him to normal.
But after studying the blood sample Rorschach had brought back earlier, Hank had made a shocking discovery.
His original formula contained a fatal flaw.
Instead of suppressing the X-Gene, the serum would actually stimulate it and amplify its effects dramatically. If he had injected that earlier version, the results would have been disastrous. Not only would it have failed to cure his oversized, animal-like feet, it would likely have triggered even more severe mutations throughout his body.
The thought of that possibility made Hank shiver involuntarily.
Fortunately, the research he conducted afterward had solved the problem. The formula he now held in his hand had been corrected and perfected. According to his calculations, the serum no longer contained any flaws.
There was only one regret.
Originally, Hank had been eager to share the serum with Raven. He had hoped the medicine could also free her from the blue skin that caused her so much pain and insecurity.
But Raven had refused him without hesitation.
The rejection had disappointed him deeply.
At the same time, it strengthened his determination.
Hank slowly inhaled, forcing himself to calm down.
"Alright," he murmured quietly to himself.
With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, he lifted the syringe and carefully injected the serum into his arm.
Afterward, he lowered the empty syringe and fixed his gaze firmly on his oversized feet.
He didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.
A few seconds passed.
Then the muscles in his feet suddenly began to surge.
The transformation was violent and unsettling. Muscles contracted and twisted in ways that would have been impossible for ordinary human anatomy. Bones shifted beneath the skin as the shape of his feet gradually changed.
The entire process lasted only a short while, but to Hank it felt like an eternity.
Finally, the transformation ended.
His feet had returned to normal.
"Ha!"
Hank burst out laughing in pure excitement, unable to contain himself any longer.
"It worked!"
He clenched his fists, his face glowing with relief and joy. At that moment, the first person he wanted to share the news with was Rorschach.
…
Early the next morning.
The mutants woke before sunrise.
Instead of heading to their usual training areas, everyone gathered together almost immediately. Their expressions were serious and focused, because the task waiting for them today was far more important than any training exercise.
What they were about to do might very well reshape the future of the entire world.
Even though Charles had tried to ease everyone's nerves the previous day, the pressure returned as the moment of departure approached.
Charles stepped forward and looked around at the gathered mutants.
"We've been preparing for this moment for a long time," he said firmly. "We trained this hard for one reason only."
"To stop Shaw."
His voice grew stronger as he continued.
"To stop him from destroying the world. To save the world."
Someone in the group repeated the words softly.
"To save the world."
"We can do it," another voice said.
"I believe we will."
"We're going to succeed."
The tension gradually transformed into determination as everyone looked at one another. Charles's speech might have sounded simple, but it carried an unmistakable energy that lifted their spirits.
"Alright," Eric said, stepping forward.
Unlike Charles, his style was far more straightforward. He clapped his hands once and looked at the group.
"Let's begin."
"Wait a moment."
Before anyone could move, Hank suddenly stepped forward.
He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat slightly.
"I've prepared something for all of you," he explained. "I thought it might be useful today."
Hank might not possess particularly powerful mutant abilities, but his brilliance as a scientist was undeniable. Hearing his words, everyone immediately became curious.
What had Hank prepared?
Without further explanation, Hank opened a large crate that had clearly been waiting there for some time.
The moment the contents were revealed, several mutants instinctively covered their faces.
Inside the box were uniforms.
Very ugly uniforms.
"Hank… you've really been busy," Eric said with a faint smirk.
Sean looked at the outfit with visible discomfort.
"Be honest," he said. "Do we really have to wear these things?"
Hank smiled patiently.
"Considering that none of us are bulletproof or capable of surviving extreme gravity, I strongly recommend wearing them."
Raven crossed her arms and shrugged casually.
"Well," she said, glancing at Rorschach, "those limitations probably don't apply to him."
Everyone understood what she meant.
They had all seen how absurdly durable Rorschach's body was. Even a mutant mercenary armed with a blade had failed to pierce his skin. Being bulletproof was practically guaranteed.
"Yes," Hank admitted, nodding slightly. "Except for Rorschach."
Even so, Rorschach didn't refuse the uniform.
Instead, he joined the others and put on the suit.
After all, this was technically the first official uniform worn by the earliest version of the X-Men. It carried a certain historical significance.
Although he privately thought it looked a little ridiculous.
But that didn't matter.
They were going into battle, not attending a fashion show.
Raven suddenly tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Now that we even have uniforms," she said, "shouldn't our team have a name too?"
Her enthusiasm for naming things had clearly returned.
"What about… the X-Men?"
"A team of warriors with the X-Gene?" someone said. "Not bad."
Alex immediately shook his head.
"Raven, that sounds kind of cheesy."
The group laughed lightly and tossed around a few jokes, but no one took the suggestion particularly seriously.
None of them could have imagined that this casual idea would one day become the name of one of the most legendary mutant teams in history.
Rorschach watched the scene with quiet amusement.
So this was how the X-Men were born.
"Alright," Charles said with a bright clap of his hands.
"Let's go."
He led the group toward a large warehouse on the property. When the doors opened, everyone stopped in surprise.
Inside sat a sleek fighter jet.
Compared to the aircraft of the current era, it looked astonishingly advanced.
Rorschach studied the machine with interest.
The first-generation Blackbird.
Even though this early model looked somewhat rough compared to later versions, it was still an iconic piece of technology.
If someone took a photograph of it, Rorschach was convinced that countless X-Men fans would pay a fortune to own it.
"Charles, this is insane!" Sean exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.
"You actually have something like this?"
"Well," Charles said with a grin, "we needed transportation."
"Cool," Darwin said, clearly impressed. "I never imagined I'd get to ride in a plane like this."
Alex raised an important question.
"So who's flying it? Eric? Moira?"
Hank stepped forward calmly.
"Me."
Alex blinked in disbelief.
"Sorry, Hank… you can fly a jet?"
Hank pushed his glasses up slightly and answered in an almost casual tone.
"Of course."
"I built it."
There was no more discussion after that.
Everyone boarded the aircraft, took their seats, and fastened their seat belts.
Hank settled into the cockpit and began operating the controls with practiced precision.
"Attention everyone," he called back.
"We're about to take off."
Moments later, the jet roared to life.
With a powerful surge of thrust, the aircraft shot upward into the sky and disappeared into the distance.
.....
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