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 commorative ceremonies...
It had witnessed nurous pivotal monts 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 announcent 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 governnt, implenting the Mutant Registration Act, granting mutants a degree of fair treatnt, and overturning long-standing discriminatory attitudes was not particularly difficult... just slightly troubleso.
The sa thods once used to address racial inequality could be applied to mutants with little variation.
"What cos next?" the weary Professor asked softly.
As one of the two foremost leaders of mutantkind, his public endorsent of the Registration Act had drawn significant attention.
Had the governnt 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 so people. Humans love taking sides; moderates, radicals, supremacists, mutant rights groups… factions will erge quickly. All we need to do is observe and occasionally steer the discourse." Sean seed 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 glimr 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 ga 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 extre asures…" the Professor murmured after a long hesitation.
Sean wasn't surprised by this response. Had the Professor been an unscrupulous scher or a hypocrite, Magneto and human governnts would have been irrelevant long ago.
The world's most powerful telepath's greatest weakness was his rciful 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 ant to be caged... they need a broader world." Sean spoke thodically, "Umbrella and Oscorp will provide a certain number of job opportunities, allowing them to live normal lives. As for young n like John and Bobby, I can furnish them with credentials and recomnd them to State University of New York to complete their education..."
"...Additionally, Umbrella has established a private security firm. Given mutants' innate abilities, with so training, they can quickly excel. The new company has signed long-term contracts with the Departnt of Defense. Joining the Umbrella Security Service (U.S.S.) doesn't an becoming rcenaries... they'll collaborate with military units under the instruction of retired Colonel Emil Blonsky."
Sean had mapped out nurous paths for mutants...
He had done his howork, 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. anwhile, 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 imnse benefits in the process.
"The Umbrella Security Service?" the Professor murmured before silently accepting the arrangent.
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 mory of his late wife, now a century-old testant to the nation's growth...
"Professor, we're entering a new era, one of transformation and opportunity, but also chaos and conflict. Technological advancents 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 sa to Erik?"
"With so 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 governnts, 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 embodint of force. The forr lulls humanity's wariness; the latter keeps governnts 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 mont before shaking his head in silence.
His gaze stretched beyond the lawn and buildings, as if piercing through to the vast cosmos where a fearso galactic warlord led an armada toward Earth.
That was the true challenge awaiting him...
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