MAGIC at Disney Press Conference
Scott's muscles were near to aching from the strain of keeping still. He wanted to fidget, to squrim-- hell, he wanted to stand up and walk the hell out of the pavilion, for that matter. Sitting in that room, patiently waiting for his turn to speak, listening to the words of a man he hardly trusted, his first and most intractable enemy and a stranger? It was the last place he wanted to be right then, especially considering the news he'd just gotten from Emma.
But he'd made the commitment, even though there were moments it felt like it had been made for him, and he was determined to follow through. Scott Summers had broken his word before, it was true, but every time had ended in disaster. There were too many cameras, and too many eyes watching and the balancing act that was keeping all the disparate elements away from each other's throats too precarious. All of them would have to keep up their end, and Scott would not allow himself to be the one to drop his.
Stark's speech was as he'd expected: he toed the line on his Registration Act, focused on his good deed of being against bigotry and murder, and proposed a new concept that would tie the Institute even more tightly to SHIELD and his administration. Magneto's speech, well, wasn't much more than the man's usual arrogant posturing. Congressman Petrelli's speech, though, he took particular note of. Taken at his word, the man might not be as on the flag-waving pro-registration side as might be thought.
Which made it Scott's turn. He rose from his seat and silently took the podium. Scott cast his gaze out over the audience, but found he didn't really see any of them. Pushing aside the impulse to leave once more, he set the index cards on the podium and began.
"When I was asked to speak at this event, my first question was, just what exactly am I supposed to talk about? The answer was 'mutant relations'. No one is trying to convince anyone of anything, there's no debate, no confrontations, just talk about your view of 'mutant relations' as the representative of the Xavier Institute. All right."
"I was fourteen years old when I first heard the word 'mutant'. Since then, I've seen times change greatly, and only rarely for the better. At first, the vast majority of the world had never heard of mutants, let alone gave a thought to them. Some time later, we became the 'mutant question', when our existence began to be discovered by the media. Years after when our numbers and exposure rose, we became the 'mutant problem'. It wasn't long after that when there were elected officials on Capitol Hill referring to us as the 'mutant menace'." Scott paused, remembering the ranting speeches and the violent protests and the burning effigies.
"There was a time very recently when the sheer number of mutants in the world had grown so large it seemed there was no other possibility but acceptance. The presence of mutants in everyday life became commonplace in major cities, especially New York, and things seemed to be going well. Then came..." Scott trailed off, realizing just how close the ties were for many of the attendees to Wanda Maximoff. "Ahem. Today, varying estimates place the current number of active mutants between a few hundred and a few thousand."
"It is more important than ever for the mutant community to stand together before forces without and within pull us back any further. Many good people fought long and hard to help establish mutants' equal footing in this world, and I for one will not stand by if there is anyone in the world who wants to take that away from us... or anyone who seeks to use it as an excuse to further their own ambitions. I will not, and the Xavier Institute will not."
"If you are a mutant-- In fact, if you are anyone who believes that something in this world needs to be different, you must act. This is not a time for observing and spectators. And it's not a time for extremists and criminals. This country and this world has its rules and its laws. Mutants, I believe, must live by them and under them, but never allow themselves to be used or victimized by them."
Scott reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves the SHIELD registration card that came as part and parcel of attending this gathering. He regards it for a few seconds, then places it on the front edge of the podium, facing the audience.
"I'm afraid, Director Stark, that I'm going to have to request a correction on this registration. You see, the card reads 'Scott Summers' and not 'Cyclops'. Cyclops is a costumed adventurer, a superhero, operating publicly and under U.S. law, required to be registered. That's fine. But Scott Summers is a mutant, and by your own words, is not subject to registration. When that distinction is clear, and clear to all, then I'll be happy to take that back."
He let out a long breath. "Now, if you'll all excuse me... I'm going to go back to being with my family." Stepping away from the podium, Scott ignored the flurry of flashbulbs and questions to leave the whole business behind him.
But he'd made the commitment, even though there were moments it felt like it had been made for him, and he was determined to follow through. Scott Summers had broken his word before, it was true, but every time had ended in disaster. There were too many cameras, and too many eyes watching and the balancing act that was keeping all the disparate elements away from each other's throats too precarious. All of them would have to keep up their end, and Scott would not allow himself to be the one to drop his.
Stark's speech was as he'd expected: he toed the line on his Registration Act, focused on his good deed of being against bigotry and murder, and proposed a new concept that would tie the Institute even more tightly to SHIELD and his administration. Magneto's speech, well, wasn't much more than the man's usual arrogant posturing. Congressman Petrelli's speech, though, he took particular note of. Taken at his word, the man might not be as on the flag-waving pro-registration side as might be thought.
Which made it Scott's turn. He rose from his seat and silently took the podium. Scott cast his gaze out over the audience, but found he didn't really see any of them. Pushing aside the impulse to leave once more, he set the index cards on the podium and began.
"When I was asked to speak at this event, my first question was, just what exactly am I supposed to talk about? The answer was 'mutant relations'. No one is trying to convince anyone of anything, there's no debate, no confrontations, just talk about your view of 'mutant relations' as the representative of the Xavier Institute. All right."
"I was fourteen years old when I first heard the word 'mutant'. Since then, I've seen times change greatly, and only rarely for the better. At first, the vast majority of the world had never heard of mutants, let alone gave a thought to them. Some time later, we became the 'mutant question', when our existence began to be discovered by the media. Years after when our numbers and exposure rose, we became the 'mutant problem'. It wasn't long after that when there were elected officials on Capitol Hill referring to us as the 'mutant menace'." Scott paused, remembering the ranting speeches and the violent protests and the burning effigies.
"There was a time very recently when the sheer number of mutants in the world had grown so large it seemed there was no other possibility but acceptance. The presence of mutants in everyday life became commonplace in major cities, especially New York, and things seemed to be going well. Then came..." Scott trailed off, realizing just how close the ties were for many of the attendees to Wanda Maximoff. "Ahem. Today, varying estimates place the current number of active mutants between a few hundred and a few thousand."
"It is more important than ever for the mutant community to stand together before forces without and within pull us back any further. Many good people fought long and hard to help establish mutants' equal footing in this world, and I for one will not stand by if there is anyone in the world who wants to take that away from us... or anyone who seeks to use it as an excuse to further their own ambitions. I will not, and the Xavier Institute will not."
"If you are a mutant-- In fact, if you are anyone who believes that something in this world needs to be different, you must act. This is not a time for observing and spectators. And it's not a time for extremists and criminals. This country and this world has its rules and its laws. Mutants, I believe, must live by them and under them, but never allow themselves to be used or victimized by them."
Scott reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves the SHIELD registration card that came as part and parcel of attending this gathering. He regards it for a few seconds, then places it on the front edge of the podium, facing the audience.
"I'm afraid, Director Stark, that I'm going to have to request a correction on this registration. You see, the card reads 'Scott Summers' and not 'Cyclops'. Cyclops is a costumed adventurer, a superhero, operating publicly and under U.S. law, required to be registered. That's fine. But Scott Summers is a mutant, and by your own words, is not subject to registration. When that distinction is clear, and clear to all, then I'll be happy to take that back."
He let out a long breath. "Now, if you'll all excuse me... I'm going to go back to being with my family." Stepping away from the podium, Scott ignored the flurry of flashbulbs and questions to leave the whole business behind him.