My proxy followed Xavier into one of the mansion's meeting rooms—quiet, polished, lined with old books and soft lighting. It looked peaceful, but I knew every inch of this place was layered with telepathic safeguards, defensive protocols, and emergency triggers. Xavier wasn't reckless.
He positioned himself across from the D‑Class body I occupied, folding his hands calmly in his lap. His eyes were steady—patient, but sharp enough to cut through steel.
"Let's begin," he said.
I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "You already know why I'm here."
"I know your intentions," Xavier corrected gently. "Not the full truth. You've shielded your mind well—far better than I expected." There was no accusation in his tone, only quiet respect. "But you wish to negotiate."
"Yes," I said. "A deal that benefits everyone."
Xavier exhaled long and slow. "My people are nearly extinct in this world. Hunted, imprisoned, used as weapons… many by the governments you now control."
"That's why I'm here," I replied. "Because that ends. Permanently."
His eyes lifted. Even the slightest hope in a man like him was blinding.
"Go on."
I placed one hand on the table. "We're willing to stop all government-sanctioned persecution of mutants. No more registration hunts. No more forced experiments. No more concentration camps hidden under military bases."
"And what do you want in return?" Xavier asked, voice firm again.
"Your school," I answered. "It stays intact. Untouched. A sanctuary for mutants—impenetrable, internationally recognized, and protected. Any mutant who reaches you is safe."
A flicker of relief crossed his face—followed immediately by suspicion.
"And the rest of the world?" Xavier asked quietly.
I didn't sugarcoat it.
"Outside your school… mutants will still be hunted."
His jaw tightened. "That's not a future I want."
"It's the only one available," I said. "We will not allow mutant superpowers to destabilize the entire world. But your school—your dream—it gets to live."
Xavier studied me, eyes narrowing as he pushed gently against my mental walls again. He saw only determination, logic, and a willingness to uphold my end of the deal—nothing about Site 999, nothing about the larger plan, nothing about what the Foundation would do with the mutants we captured elsewhere.
"And in exchange," I continued, "you join the SCP Foundation. You will work with us. You will advise us. And you will help manage mutant anomalies we capture."
Xavier's silence stretched long enough that even my real body, back in Site 999, felt the tension vibrate across the connection.
He finally spoke.
"If I join you… my students remain untouched. My school remains sovereign. And your Foundation gives sanctuary status to all mutants who reach us?"
"Yes."
"And if you breach this agreement?"
"Then the Foundation loses one of the greatest telepaths in the multiverse. I'm not suicidal, Xavier."
Despite everything, he smiled—sad, but knowing.
"You're a dangerous man," he said.
"So are you."
Another long pause.Then he extended his hand.
"I accept."
My proxy shook it.
"Good choice."
And in that moment Xavier understood that he hadn't made a deal with a politician. Or a general. Or even a scientist.
He had made a deal with someone who was building an empire.