X-Men: Graduation #4

#Marvelium Presents

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X-Men: Graduation

Previous Issue

Issue #4

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Earth-4422305

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It was all like a dream to Amani Bahati. Going back home, despite not having anyone to go home to, was a terrible feeling that didn’t feel real. Her vision seemed to blur, he words seem to muffle, her mind seemed to go blank. Her heart seemed to stop beating, but it didn’t. Why didn’t it? If Creed weren’t there, she’d fall apart. The long flight back home in the cramped seats. The ride in a small, smelly taxi back home. The protesters on the streets… mutant rights protesters. In Mozambique?

Though extremely bizarre, and something she never saw as a kid, it barely ed to her. But Creed noticed, and he stared in awe. The protesters were a colorful group: some looked like they owned homes, others looked like they didn’t; others looked too young to be protesting, others too old. They held up cardboard signs, plastic lids… all writing things like “Mutants Are Here, Too,” “You Can Hold a Mutant’s Hand, Too,” “Stop the Drug,” and others Creed didn’t understand

He’d learned some portuguese before coming here, but certainly not enough. He was curious to see what “the drug” was. He decided he’d visit later. First and foremost, he was there for Amy.

The humid smell of clay everywhere she went. The cemetery. The graves. The names. The mountains in the distance.

It was all too much, and yet, it seemed to feel like nothing at all.

The house. The floorboards with the familiar holes she’d memorized, the ugly carpets her mother had insisted on having, the couches littered with cigarette burns, the old TV with the green-grey screen, forever shut down. She stared at it for a very long time, sitting on the couch, beneath a ceiling fan that swayed from side to side.

”I’m going out,” said Creed, breaking the silence. Amy couldn’t hear him quite, well. She turned around, “What?” Her nose was stuffy. She hadn’t noticed she’d been crying.

”I’m going out,” said Creed, again, his voice breaking slightly at seeing her like this. “Gonna buy food. D’you want anything?”

”Um,” she paused, clearing her throat. “No, thank you.”

Creed smiled gently, “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” He left and closed the door behind him. A click—the door locked. Footsteps walking away.

That’s when Amy fell apart. She felt her heart sink into her heart. Her eyes were filled with tears in moments. Her face flushed. She hid her face in her knees, holding her legs with her hands as she sat on the couch.

***

The night was peaceful outside. The stars glittered in the sky above. Amy wondered if that was where her family was. She didn’t believe it of course, but she’d like to. Just this one night.

She started to fly towards them, slowly hovering, in a half-hearted attempt to them, maybe. At least until Creed came back and got her back on her feet—grounded her. She didn’t want to be grounded. She wanted to fly.

The sunken feeling in her soul returned, and to get rid of it, she flew upwards as fast as she could. The wind in her mouth flew out, leaving her breathless, paining her lungs, but that’s what she wanted. Her eyes were filled with tears as the rapid gust of wind blew at them. Her shirt fluttered in the wind, howling like the cape of a falling hero.

***

High above the trees, an anomaly was seen. A mysterious red glow, noticed by all who were out strolling at eleven in the afternoon, like Creed Lockheed. Coming out of the shop, the plastic bags he was carrying cutting off the circulation in his fingers, he almost immediately noticed the firework-like streak of red light that had shot off in the distance, relatively in the location of the Bahati’s.

It took a moment to process, but as soon as he realized what that red streak was, he rushed into the dark woods beside the store, and shot upwards into the sky, flying straight towards Amy. He flew so fast that his eyes got dehydrated and his eyes filled with tears, making it look like he’d been crying.

Amy actually had been crying however, and as soon as Creed caught up to her and noticed this, he hugged her tight.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t speak until they were back.

Amy never told Creed why she’d been crying, though it’d appeared fairly obvious. Creed never told Amy that when he hugged her, he felt like he was getting showered by a flamethrower at close range.

***

Back home, while Creed and Amy were in Mozambique, the X-Men were facing a political catastrophe that might set back everything they’d worked on for years: the Sentinel Program.

Xavier was on the phone with Minister Coolidge, and Xavier was actively trying to avoid losing his shit. “Boris. Don’t you why your position in the government exists? To prevent anything like this from happening. This violates every agreement we’ve built, every safeguard we fought for... It strips away our security. It strips away our way of life. It is inhumane. It makes us vulnerable.”

”I know. That’s the objective. Making the invulnerable vulnerable. Just like we are to you. This is how the gears turn: just as easily as you can kill us, we can kill you if you try,” said Boris. “How is this a problem? The only way this could harm you is if it is hostile, purposefully. That could never happen, that is a war crime.”

”Boris…”

”The American people will not stand for terrorism. The American people… ordinary-able people… need the security you and your kind have had since birth,” said Boris. “You’re lucky I’m the one greenlighting this thing. Had Magneto’s degenerate manchildren succeeded, I’d be dead, and they wouldn’t bother replacing me with someone else. There wouldn’t be a Minister of Mutant Affairs, do you understand? Mutant Affairs would be of no concern to anyone.”

”Boris. Please. I understand your point of view, but you have to understand that fear interrupts logic. Fear prevents prosperity, it doesn’t cause it. This is genocide in slow motion, Boris, it is not justice. You’re rearranging the order of the world as you all see fit, and we have no say in it.”

”I won’t stop this from happening, Xavier.” said Boris. “Figure out a way for you to be happy with this. I already gave the greenlight. Funds are already Trask’s. The Department of Mutant Affairs is fully geared toward executing this. This is not a bad thing, Xavier. It is an advancement in the coexistence of homo sapiens and homo superior. If you really wanted to make us feel safe, like we were in good hands trusting you, then maybe you should’ve fought harder. As I recall, when everyone on that train died, you weren’t there. None of you were. We won’t wait around for you to save us if we can save ourselves.”

Xavier lowered his voice, shaking, ”When they hunt my students and they kill my children, their blood will be on your hands, Boris. Not the machine’s. Yours.

Boris sighed. ”I’ve known you long enough to know you’ll figure out something,” said Boris. “You’ll figure out something to make you happy.”

The phone clicked, leaving Xavier speechless, looking up at his students with his mind racing. He tried to hide his horror, but an inkling of uncertainty was still visible on his face.

”Professor?” said Scott Summers, the Cyclops. “What do we need to do?”

***

Quick note: I procrastinated this issue for such a long time, that’s why it may appear rushed and poorly written. My apologies. I just wanted to finish this. Regardless, thank you for reading.