On the street outside the Summers house, quite a few neighbors had gathered around the aircraft, a technological creation far beyond its era.
Scott casually pinched the nose of the chubby kid next door, then hurriedly jumped aboard Alex's personal supersonic shuttle.
The dark bluish-green compact flying vehicle crouched on the ground like a sleek concept sports car, with a long, low streamlined body and a spindle-shaped energy engine at the rear.
As the craft rose smoothly into the air, Scott begged his brother to fly closer to the next block. Hovering above a rather lavish villa, he leaned out to take a look, then slapped the shuttle's shell with loud bangs and shouted excitedly:
"Dixon, Dixon! Hey! Is that your new ride? Heh. Thanks! I'm going to the Superhuman Academy, buddy. Why didn't I meet you a few years earlier?"
"...Woohoo!"
Boom!
As the shuttle's observation window retracted, Scott Summers felt the explosive impact of breaking through several sound barriers in succession as they shot through the sky.
All that remained were his excited shouts from the air, along with several teenage boys below gathered around a brand-new Dodge motorcycle, cigarettes in hand.
The stout young man at their head looked like a nightclub bouncer. Wearing a face like thunder, he stood there dumbfounded, then silently kicked the tires of his new bike twice. The gift from his parents had only just improved his mood, but now it had plunged back to rock bottom.
Scott Summers—whose older brother, "Havok," was famous throughout humanity's superhuman world—had grown up in a society full of admirers of mutants and all kinds of superhumans. From the time he could remember, great expectations had been placed on him.
Yet despite being born into such a "distinguished family," Scott still had not awakened any mutant