The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Xavier Institute, warm light drifting across polished wood floors and ancient bookshelves. Charles Xavier’s wheelchair moved with soft mechanical precision as he entered the War Room. The doors slid open, revealing the familiar sight of the X-Men gathered around the central holo-table: Cyclops with arms folded in quiet discipline, Storm regal and calm, Jean focused and attentive, Beast with a datapad in hand, Nightcrawler perched casually on a railing, and Wolverine leaning against the wall with his usual impatience.
Charles cleared his throat gently. “Good morning, my X-Men. Please, take your seats. We have several matters to address.”
A soft hum rose from the holo-table as Charles tapped the interface. Multiple panels lit up — satellite feeds, governmental memos, maps of international zones, encrypted reports. Nothing explosive, nothing catastrophic — but everything important.
“Our first concern,” Charles began, tone calm but firm, “is the shift in federal surveillance patterns. Trask Industries has increased satellite sweeps over the East Coast. Their official explanation cites ‘routine aerial tracking,’ but the frequency aligns far too closely to the mansion’s perimeter.”
Wolverine growled. “They sniffin’ around us again.”
Charles nodded. “Yes. But we respond not with hostility — with preparation. Scott, I need you and Ororo to rotate patrol schedules. Discreetly. We will not appear threatened.”
Cyclops gave a sharp nod. “Understood.”
Charles switched the projection. International borders, highlighted in red, blinked slowly. “Our second topic: growing tensions in Europe. Several governments are drafting new meta-human registration proposals. Mutants are not mentioned by name… but the implications are evident.”
Jean leaned forward. “Is this going to spread?”
“I believe so,” Charles admitted. “And that is why we must remain unified — as ambassadors of peace, not weapons.”
Another slide appeared: mansion security schematics. “Additionally, there have been minor breaches in our firewall systems. Nothing serious, nothing damaging. Likely preliminary probes from private contractors. Hank, I’ll rely on you to reinforce our internal protocols.”
Beast smiled softly. “Already in progress, Charles.”
Nightcrawler tilted his head. “Zere is more, yes?”
Charles allowed a small nod. “There is. Internal matters.”
The X-Men straightened.
The map shifted to a layout of the school grounds. “We have several new young students arriving this week. Some come from unstable homes. Some from hostile communities. They require stability — and guidance.” His voice softened. “I ask each of you to remember your roles not only as operatives, but as mentors. You are their examples of who they can become.”
Storm smiled warmly. “You never need ask, Charles. The children are our responsibility.”
Wolverine snorted. “I ain’t a babysitter.”
Charles raised a brow. “And yet, Logan, the children seem rather convinced you are.”
A ripple of quiet laughter broke the tension.
“Moving on,” Charles said, adjusting the holo-display. Blueprints of the Danger Room appeared. “Scott, Logan, I need you two to run advanced training simulations this afternoon. The team’s coordination has slipped — nothing drastic, but enough that it warrants attention.”
Cyclops glanced sideways at Wolverine. Logan rolled his eyes but gave a reluctant nod.
“There is also the matter of public relations,” Charles continued. “A journalist from The Daily Register has requested an interview regarding the institute’s educational programs. They are unaware — for now — of our deeper operations. I intend to keep it that way.”
Jean asked, “Do you want one of us present?”
“No. But I appreciate the offer. I simply want transparency without exposure.”
The final screen faded, leaving the room illuminated only by natural sunlight. Charles folded his hands, expression gentle yet commanding.