The Angel of Crenshaw

Posted on Wed Aug 5th, 2026 @ 8:40am by Jean Grey-Summers & Narrator & Cain Cross

4,440 words; about a 22 minute read

Mission: Episode 8: Shadows Over Avalon
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: March 20, 1992

He had flown above the clouds a hundred times before, but this was the first time he was doing so on someone else’s power. Normally, he soared with the birds, lifting his own wings, catching a draft, and streaming far above the burning pain of his life. But now, a seat in coach and a window was as close as he was going to get to that freedom. He felt like a bird in a cage.

In a way, he was heading toward an even greater freedom in Westchester, New York. Crenshaw had been a hellscape - crack cocaine, 9 mm, and police sirens. He had been involved with all three, but the event that weighed on his conscience now was bad enough that he could barely bring himself to think about it. It was the agony of a life badly lived, which he was trying to leave behind. Could he really leave it behind or was he the real problem after all?
“Chicken or pasta?” Said a voice beside him. Cain caught the smell before he saw the woman it came from. Warm milk, baked bread, and lavender, all mixing with the smell of the plane’s recycled air and burnt coffee. To be honest, it was new. No one he knew in LA smelled like that - if smell was even the right word. He turned his head to the stewardess, gave her an unapologetic once over, and then licked his full lips. He didn’t know what warm milk, baked bread, and lavender meant, but he knew he liked it. But, of course, that wasn’t it. There was more - metallic and cold, like rain on hot asphalt or copper. He knew that smell much better.

“What?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t heard the woman.

“Chicken or pasta?,” she asked again, offering a smile that barely seemed forced. By all appearances, she was a genuinely nice woman in her mid 30s. The wedding ring on her finger said she was married, but he knew from the smell of her that she wasn’t all nice - was something about her that wasn’t so good - something she’d done....maybe years ago....and never quite made right. Somehow, he hoped that getting away from the hood would make it go away, but he found himself surprised to find someone who looked like her with such a terrible thing on her mind, her soul, or whatever he was detecting.

“Oh, my bad,” he said, his eyes remaining on her, watching like a hawk. He didn't demure. He wasn’t one for demurring. “What kinda chicken yall got?”

The woman had finally gotten a good look at him, and it wasn’t hard for him to tell based on the slackening of her once-genuine smile. She saw the look in his eyes and the tattoos on his forearms and had already decided he was bad news. He didn’t like that look, but he knew he was going to be seeing it more than ever now.

“Chicken Cacciatore,” she said, her voice breathier than before, looking as if she wanted to leave before he shot her or something.

“Chicken what?” He asked, his eyebrows going up as if it were her fault she used a word he didn’t know. Maybe he should soften or try to smile, but that just wasn’t how he had been raised. He smiled when he wanted to, if then. He had to be tough to survive. He had to be hard to make it - that’s what his mother, grandmother, and the men he ran with had always told him. And if it scared some blonde stewardess with a secret, that really wasn’t his problem.

“Cacciatore.” She said, her pulse pounding harder in her neck. “It’s chicken in a tomato sauce over pasta and served with roll and a small slice of pie.”

“Is it good?” he asked.

“I like it,” she said with a nervous shrug.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. That didn’t mean anything to him. It wasn’t going to be Grandma’s homemade, and he should have expected as much.

“Mmm,” he said, licking his lips. “Alright, gimme the chicken then.”

The woman took down the note on her notepad and moved to leave faster than she had approached, making sure to look at him one more time before she turned to the couple in the next row. Was this to be his life now? How many people would he have to interact with at Xavier’s who thought they were angels, but were really just devils like him? It was a school for gifted youngsters, but did his gifts cover up the scars and the history, and how long would he really make it in a mansion with a bunch of privileged rich kids.

He didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. But, for now, at least he had some nasty airplane chicken coming to him.

---

JFK International Airport was a bustling madhouse, a chaotic reflection of the city it served. Loud, crowded, diverse, and always in motion, New York carried an entirely different energy from Los Angeles. The City of Angels had sprawled outward, consuming the open spaces around it as it expanded farther and farther. New York, with far less room to grow, had been forced to build upward instead. The result was a towering skyline that stacked people and buildings on top of one another until they seemed to reach the sky.

It was within this sprawling, chaotic complex that Cain found an unexpected pair waiting for him. A tall, dark-skinned man stood beside a petite blonde woman, his face set in what appeared to be a permanent scowl. The woman clung to his side while holding up a large sign with CAIN CROSS written across it in cheerful bubble letters.

Had it not been for the sign, Cain never would have guessed they were supposed to be his escorts. The pair looked like complete opposites of one another and neither of them was dressed in anything that exactly screamed professional.

“Cain?” the woman asked, her face breaking into a wide smile. She had clearly been briefed on his appearance and was expecting him. “It’s so good to meet you! I’m Tandy, and this here is Ty.”

The man beside her merely nodded. “Sup.”

“We’re here to take you to Xavier’s school upstate,” Tandy continued, her smile radiating warmth and energy. “Miss Jean thought we’d make good company for the drive.”

Cain had not enjoyed his chicken, and he'd liked the landing even less. Control was a luxury of a man with wings only when he was able to use them. He stepped off the plane, breathing a sigh as he approached the place he'd been assured would have people picking him up. He wasn't feeling eager. When he saw the sign and the woman holding it, he felt it was worse than he had thought. Was he supposed to dap Ty up or shake his hand? And he had no idea what to do with the white girl besides look her up and down.

He licked his lips, lifted his chin. Confidence was a second skin and a mask.

"Wassup," he posed in the tone of a statement rather than a question, and lifted his hand to dab Ty up. He would create his own certainty. "Cool of yall to come pick me up."

"We take care of our own," Ty replied, bumping his fist against Cain's. The way he said 'our own' was deliberately broad, leaving Cain unsure exactly who 'we' referred to. Whatever the answer, there was enough warmth behind the words that they felt like a genuine welcome.

"Anything for Miss Jean and the school," Tandy added in her usual bright, upbeat voice. "She was there for us when things got really bad here in the city. Honestly, she still is."

Ty gave an approving nod. "Reppin' only gets you so far when Sentinels start tearing apart your hood."

There was a familiarity to the way Ty spoke, a quiet kind of code that Cain recognized immediately. He'd heard it a thousand times growing up. It wasn't a confession, but it hinted at a past shaped by neighborhood loyalties and the unspoken rules that came with them. Gang life was dangerous, demanding, and difficult to escape. Whether Ty had left it behind or simply outgrown it, Cain couldn't tell.

"C'mon," Ty said, turning toward baggage claim. "Let's get you upstate before dinner. Miss Jean's pretty serious about family meals."

As they fell into step behind him, Tandy glanced over at Cain with an easy smile.

"So, where are you from?" she asked, making another attempt at conversation. "I mean, I know you're from L.A., but that's a pretty big place, right?"

"Very big place, yeah," Cain responded. He walked in time with them, his eyes moving to Tandy once again. "Crenshaw. Split LA open. It's right in the middle."

Hs stride was confident. He had no lack of self-certainty.

"Where yall from?"

“Harlem,” Ty replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Project housing the city didn't give a damn about until we became somebody else's problem.”

“It isn't as bad as it used to be,” Tandy said, ever the optimist. “The whole block was demolished a couple of years ago after the Sentinels attacked. They even killed a kid, Peter Parker. It got so much media attention that the city had no choice but to rebuild everything and finally bring it up to code.”

“The cockroaches are smaller, and the streetlights are a little brighter,” Ty said with a dry smirk. “But my ma still loves crack, homeless folks still piss in the street, and our neighborhood still needs defending. We're just trying to do it with clean noses now, you know?”

"Yeah, man," Cain said. And he knew much of it, but the rest he didn't know. Truth be told, he had never been the victim. His mother wasn't addicted and he sold the crack. They lived in a house with his grandmother - no cockroaches, full refrigerator. The force that made the lives of his people rough had shielded him, provided for him, raised him. He had been one of them. "It's fucked up it took the news to get some decent housin'. Yall stay there or you stay at the school?"

“We're in Harlem,” Ty replied as they gathered Cain's belongings and started toward the parking garage. “I've got a place called the Beat Street Club. Our old leader was killed on a mission... trying to find Miss Jean, actually. After he died, I inherited the place. I've got two sisters and my grandma depending on me, so leaving was never really an option.”

“Miss Jean felt awful when she learned what happened,” Tandy added as she dug through her purse for the keys to their battered old Lincoln. “She started helping us fix the place up. Well... it was a bar back then. Now it's a community center.”

She smiled to herself as she found the keys. “She spends time with the kids, helps organize programs, tries to give the neighborhood something besides gangs and drug deals. She's always saying people deserve real choices, that stealing and dealing shouldn't be the only way to put food on the table.”

“Tandy and I had already gotten clean before we met her,” Ty said. “I looked around and realized the way I was living, I'd probably be dead before I turned twenty-five and my sisters would have nothing. So when Miss Jean showed up with funding from Xavier's, I figured maybe it was time to do something different.”

He shrugged as they climbed into the car. “It hasn't been easy, but we've been making progress. The city's new housing projects helped too.”

Once the doors shut and the sounds of the city faded behind them, Ty's expression hardened.

“That Legacy Virus is some real fucked up shit,” he muttered. “Most hospitals won't touch you if you've got it. Bad enough symptoms and they know you're a mutant, so they just leave you to die. That's what happens when people hate you enough.” The bitterness in his voice was impossible to miss. “The school stepped up, though. They set up a hospital on campus to treat people with the virus. Whenever we find someone in the city who needs help, we get them out there hopefully before it's too late.”

"Legacy?" Cain asked, remembering the little bit he'd paid attention to on the news. "Don't that target mutants though? Sounds dangerous to take people who have it to the school. I'm not tryin' to catch that."

“Some people get really sick. Others barely show any symptoms. Nobody really knows why,” Ty said as they pulled away from the airport and merged onto the highway heading north. “But there's a doctor at the school who's good at treating it if they catch it early. Besides, everyone who's infected is staying in a medical tent out back, not in the mansion with the kids and everyone else. It's kind of like MASH.”

“You'll be fine, hon,” Tandy added, offering Cain a reassuring smile. “If you were going to catch it that easily, you probably would've known by now. Just steer clear of the hospital tent if it makes you nervous.”

Ty shot Tandy a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road. Sensing the conversation was drifting into territory that wasn't helping anyone, he changed the subject. “So, you got any family back home?”

Cain would never admit he was nervous. He exhaled from the back seat. He took Ty's exit from disease talk willingly.

"Just my moms and my grandma. Dad died when I was five so it's just been us and the streets since then."

“I never knew my dad,” Ty admitted. As they left the congestion of New York City behind, the traffic steadily thinned. Towering buildings gave way to quieter neighborhoods, then sprawling suburbs, and finally long stretches of open highway. The farther they traveled, the easier the drive became. “Well... Telford was kinda like my dad. He ran the Beast Street Club, the one who died.” Ty shrugged, forcing a small smile. “But life goes on, ya know?”

Cain watched the scenery transform through the backseat window. The endless walls of steel and glass gave way to rows of weathered brownstones, then neighborhoods with wide front lawns and fences. By the time they reached Salem Center, it was obvious they were a world away from anything resembling a major city.

Salem Center was the sort of small town that seemed content with having exactly one of everything; a single movie theater, one shopping mall, one library, and just enough stores and restaurants to keep teenagers from feeling completely cut off from civilization. It slipped behind them almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by rolling apple orchards, sprawling dairy farms, and weathered red barns that dotted the countryside.

Beyond the farmland, the road wound into dense forests beneath the shadow of low, rugged mountains. Telephone poles became scarce. Houses disappeared altogether. For miles there was nothing but untouched woodland stretching in every direction.

“There’s a state park on the other side of those mountains,” Tandy said, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It gets so quiet out here, I actually miss hearing traffic.”

Eventually Ty guided the car onto a long gravel drive flanked that curved through meticulously landscaped grounds surrounding the estate. Perched atop a gentle rise stood an immense nineteenth century mansion, its brick façade glowing warmly beneath the late afternoon sun. A stately portico supported by towering Grecian columns greeted them, while rows of tall, gleaming windows reflected the surrounding grounds. Slate rooftops, ornate chimneys, and elegant gables crowned the sprawling structure, giving it the presence of an old New England manor built for governors and industrial magnates. The manicured lawns stretched for acres, broken only by towering maples, sculpted hedges, and stone walkways that hinted at gardens hidden beyond sight. It looked less like a school than the estate of an old American dynasty.

“This is it,” Ty said, pulling the car to a stop before the grand entrance. He glanced over at Cain with an unmistakable grin. “Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.” He chuckled. “Which is now your home too, brother.”

"Holy fuckin' shit, bruh," Cain said, looking up with wide eyes at the grand building. He had never seen anything like it in his life and half expected that some European king lived in this place. He popped the door open without waiting and stepped out into the March sun. It was beautiful. He licked his lips. "This is crazy, man. I don't know about this."

“Crazy rich white people never cease to amaze me,” Ty said with a smirk as they climbed the steps toward the mansion's massive front doors. “But honestly? It's cool here. Some kids from the city live here, and they're happy. They're learning way more than they ever would've at our broke public school, and there aren't any roaches in their beds.”

Tandy pushed open the front door with the confidence of someone who had been there many times before. The gesture told Cain she was both familiar with the place and welcome in it. Beyond the threshold, Xavier's continued its grand display.

The main foyer was breathtaking. A sweeping double staircase curved gracefully to the second floor, framed by towering wood-paneled walls and polished hardwood floors that gleamed beneath the light. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm golden glow over the room.

For a place so large, it should have felt cold and intimidating but it didn't.

Somewhere deeper in the mansion children laughed without a care in the world. The hesitant notes of someone practicing piano drifted through the halls, each scale slow and uneven as they searched for the right keys. The distant clatter of dishes and muffled conversations gave the house a comforting rhythm. It wasn't his home, but it was unmistakably someone else's, and that made the mansion feel alive.

“Miss Jean's office is this way,” Tandy said, leading him down one of the long hallways.

As they walked, Cain caught glimpses of everyday life tucked between the mansion's stately architecture. A television room held half a dozen kids sprawled across couches watching cartoons. Farther down, an old recreation room housed a scarred pool table that had clearly seen years of friendly competition. Behind a pair of swinging doors came the inviting sounds of dinner being prepared.

By the time they reached the far end of the hall, the noise had faded into a peaceful quiet and a set of tall double doors stood open, sunlight spilling across the polished floor.

“This is where we say our goodbyes,” Ty said, stopping just short of the entrance. “We've gotta get home, and Miss Jean's expecting you.” He held out a closed fist. “Take care, man.”

Out of place was an understatement. Cain watched the building like it was a thing with a personality sll its own. This was all completely new. Instead of giving a sign, though, he licked his lips and inclined his head, fist-bumping Ty and putting a single arm around Tandy.

“Good lookin’ out, yall. Keep ya head up,” he said in a calm voice. Then he watched them walk away again. Wirh a deep breath, he turned and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Cain.” The voice that answered him was gentle and cheerful, and Cain could have sworn the office door swung open on its own.

He stepped inside and found himself greeted by yet another grand room. Long and elegant, it was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and furnished with a comfortable sitting area arranged beside a marble fireplace. A fainting couch rested beneath one of the room’s many tall windows, offering a view of a bubbling fountain and the circular drive beyond. At the far end of the room sat a large antique desk, behind which an entirely unexpected woman awaited him.

Given the age and grandeur of the school and the title of headmistress Cain had expected Jean Grey to be some matronly elderly woman who matched the long history of the building itself. Instead, he found himself facing a smiling woman who looked to be in her early twenties, dressed in a smart, impeccably tailored suit. But her most striking feature was her hair. It fell in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back, a deep, brilliant crimson that seemed almost too vivid to be natural.

“I hope your flight was all right. Cross-country travel can be a little taxing,” she said, rising from behind the desk to meet him. She extended her hand, offering him a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. And I apologize for not flying out to meet you in L.A., but I’ve been spread a little thin these days.”

She gave his hand a firm, confident shake and she smelled of citrus and sunshine. “I’m Jean Grey-Summers.”

Everything about the room made sense except the woman behind the desk. She must have been crazy rich to run a school at her age without anybody asking questions. He felt the same irritation he’d always felt at school, tempered only but the understanding that they were close to being in the same age cohort.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, though he wasn’t sure it was. “Thanks from accepting me out here…or whatever.”

“It’s my pleasure to have you here,” Jean said with a sincerity that was difficult to question. While she possessed no mutant gift for inspiring trust, she approached people with an unwavering honesty that made her compassion feel genuine. “I hope you'll find a measure of peace here while you continue your education and learn to better understand your abilities.”

Instead of inviting him to the imposing chair opposite her expansive desk, Jean gestured toward the pair of armchairs arranged beside the fireplace. It was a small but deliberate choice, she wanted this to feel like a conversation rather than an interrogation and to give Cain the opportunity to speak with her rather than answering to yet another authority figure.

“I've received your transcripts from your high school in Crenshaw, along with the police reports.” She didn't try to sidestep the obvious or soften the subject with small talk. Whether Cain appreciated that kind of directness remained to be seen. “I want to begin by saying that you aren't the first student to arrive at Xavier's carrying a difficult past. More often than not, the people who come through these doors have been hurt by the world in one way or another. My hope is that this can be a turning point for you, that Xavier’s can be a place where you can leave some of that weight behind while building something better for yourself. I view your arrival here as an opportunity to give you a chance at the fresh start you deserve.”

“World ain’t done nothin’ to me it’s gonna fix,” Cain said, shrugging. He sat across her in the chair, but not comfortably. This place was wholly unfamiliar to him and he felt the differences between them. “Not sure what better thing I can build here instead of makin’ my way any way I know how back home.”

“That’s a fair assumption,” Jean said with a small, understanding smile. “Especially when you've only ever known one way of life and it got you this far. But your family saw some value in you being here, so I'd appreciate it if you'd give this place a chance. You don't have to change overnight or throw yourself into anything you're not ready for. Just settle in, get comfortable, and be open to trying something different. You might surprise yourself.”

Jean paused for a moment but her expression remained thoughtful.
“Can I ask you something?” she said. “When you think about the people you've looked up to in your life, the ones who earned your respect, what was it about them that inspired that feeling?”

"Loyalty," Cain answered instantly without even needing to think. "I knew where they stood and, more importantly, who they stood with. Besides that, they was tough as hell and didn't let nobody push them around."

His face said he doubted he would find anyone like that here, but he licked his lips and settled a bit. "I'll give yall a chance. I didn't fly all the way out here just to fly back. Just give me some time to adjust. I didn't exactly grow up in a place like this."

“Thank you, Cain. I appreciate you saying that.” Jean replied with an appreciative nod. The young man clearly possessed a code of honor and a fierce sense of loyalty toward those who had earned it. While Cain Cross was far from the typical student Xavier's School attracted, Jean could see tremendous potential in him. The challenge wasn't whether he had it, it was helping him recognize it for himself.

“Sometime in the next few days, I'd like you to meet with Dr. Reyes for a physical examination. If she determines you're healthy enough to begin training, we'll review your mutant abilities together and develop a schedule that suits your strengths and goals. And if everything goes well, I'd like to integrate you into some of the training regimens our older residents follow.”

If Cain truly valued loyalty, and a strong moral compass, he would find no shortage of those qualities among the X-Men. With time, Jean hoped he'd discover something even more important, a place where he belonged.

“Do you have any other questions for me this evening?” Jean asked. “If not, I'd be happy to take you to dinner, and we can meet again tomorrow.”

Cain shook his head in response and Jean felt that overwhelming lack of trust being emitted from the young man, he viewed her as an authority figure and therefore an adversary. It would take time to show him that these types of relationships didn’t need to be so combative.

“Very well,” Jean replied as she moved to stand and gestured for Cain to follow. “I’ll take you to dinner and Alaric will show you to your room afterwards. Welcome to Xavier’s Cain.”

 

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