Charles Xavier's battle hair dryer hissed faintly as it struggled against Magneto's relentless barrage of sharpened razors, each piece of metal deflecting with a loud ping, but even the state-of-the-art mutant tech was starting to strain. Charles sat still, posture elegant, adjusting his collar with one hand as if unimpressed by Magneto's desperate attacks. His hair, long and flowing in perfect waves, glistened as though untouched by battle.
Across from him, Magneto's eyes darkened. His lips twisted in frustration as he watched Charles sit there like a shampoo ad in the middle of war. Growling, Magneto's fingers clenched at his sides, his whole body shaking from exhaustion. And then, with a sudden snarl, Magneto lashed out. His magnetic powers surged, wrapping around Charles's hover-chair.
Charles blinked, sitting straighter. "You wouldn't dare—"
"Oh, I would," Magneto barked. "If I can't shave your head, I'll destroy that shiny mane of yours!"
With a flick of his hand, Magneto flipped Charles's hover-chair upside down, slamming him straight down into the dirt. Charles yelped as his head, and more importantly his perfect hair, smashed into the gravel of Liberty Island's filthy parking lot.
"No! Not my beautiful hair!" Charles cried out, his voice breaking with real anguish as his glorious locks scraped against the pavement, picking up dirt, grime, and dust. Sparks flew as the battle hair dryer finally short-circuited with a sad little pop, dying with a faint wisp of smoke.
Magneto stood swaying on his feet, chest heaving, before finally collapsing face-first onto the ground, too spent to keep going.
But no one else even noticed them.
The battlefield was still alive with chaos. Mystique stalked through the debris, her eyes sharp and calculating. Her gaze locked on Beast, who was in the middle of tossing a Brotherhood member into a wall. She approached quietly, slipping up behind him. Without warning, she swung a brick directly at the back of his head.
The brick shattered on impact with a sickening crunch. Beast stumbled forward, dazed, groaning. "If I still had my hair… it would've stopped that brick…" he muttered weakly before collapsing to the ground with a loud thud.
Mystique looked down at him, brushing off her hands as if she had done something routine. "Classic gold digger style… a brick over the head." She tilted her head thoughtfully, adding with a casual shrug, "No idea where that saying came from, but I like it."
Meanwhile, Cyclops stood frozen, glancing between the chaos and the fallen Charles and Magneto. His mouth twitched with uncertainty as Jean and Storm approached him slowly, their eyes sharp and focused.
"Uh… shouldn't we be fighting them?" Cyclops asked awkwardly, gesturing toward the Brotherhood, as he backed up slightly.
Jean crossed her arms, her gaze fixed firmly on him. "You know, Scott… we know what you're always looking at behind those glasses."
Storm stopped beside her, her arms equally crossed, her expression sharp. "And we're tired of you staring."
Cyclops raised his hands, his voice cracking slightly. "C'mon, guys, it's not like that—"
Before he could finish, Storm raised one hand, and with a crack of thunder, a massive bolt of lightning shot straight into Cyclops' chest. Electricity surged through him, frying him from head to toe. His visor sparked as he crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap.
Jean watched him collapse, tilting her head. "Ooooh… frickazied Cyclops. Just the way we like him."
Storm nodded thoughtfully. "Frickazied Cyclops is the only way to enjoy an annoying Cyclops."
As they walked away from his twitching body, Storm glanced over her shoulder. "You think they'll remember we betrayed them?"
Jean shrugged with a smirk. "Nah. I'll just wipe their memories. Make them think they lost and went home. Easy."
The two women laughed quietly to themselves as they strode away, leaving the once-proud team of X-Men completely destroyed.
Across the field, the Brotherhood of Mutants stood awkwardly, many of them glancing toward Magneto, still unmoving on the ground. No one quite knew what to do.
Until Mystique stepped forward.
She brushed imaginary dust off her hands, standing tall, eyes sharp and calculating as she surveyed the broken battlefield. "Looks like Magneto's down," she announced coolly. "So I'll be taking over from here."
The Brotherhood exchanged glances but nodded without argument—Magneto was done. Mystique was in charge now.
Up on the hill, Kara lounged on her picnic blanket, sipping lemonade as Natasha and Gwen sat on either side of her. Kara raised her glass toward the battlefield, watching Mystique step into command. "Told you she'd end up in charge," Kara said smoothly.
Natasha popped a strawberry into her mouth. "Called it."
Gwen reached for another cookie, nonchalant. "At least she knows what she's doing. Magneto couldn't even hold on to his own bank account."
Rogue stood quietly near the mutant-conversion machine, her fingers still resting on the controls, sending a soft pulse of energy through it every few seconds. Her eyes remained on Mystique, calm but aware, knowing exactly how much power they held now.
Mystique raised her voice to the gathering Brotherhood, her presence filling the battlefield. "From now on, we set the rules. No more Magneto's broken dreams. No more half-baked plans. It's time for a new world—our world."
Several Brotherhood members nodded and murmured in agreement, rallying behind her strong declaration.
Some glanced up toward Kara and Rogue, recognizing the real power behind Mystique, as Mystique subtly gestured toward them—an unspoken acknowledgment of L.E.Y.A.'s silent influence over this new era.
The battlefield was littered with broken bodies—Charles still tangled in dust and dirt, his once-glorious hair now a matted mess, Magneto lying crumpled and forgotten, Beast unconscious, Cyclops still smoking, Wolverine unconscious and missing teeth, and the rest nowhere to be seen.
Charles stirred slightly, lifting his head with effort, his eyes darting around in horror at the ruin of his team. His hands trembled as he whispered, "What have we done..."
Mystique stood tall, her eyes surveying the battlefield with cold determination.
Kara leaned back on her elbows, watching it all unfold with a quiet smirk on her lips, while Rogue stood, radiating raw magnetic power, ready to unleash the next stage of their plan.
Mystique raised a hand in command, her voice sharp. "Regroup. Prepare for the next phase. It's time to create a little political fallout."
The Brotherhood gathered tighter around her, nodding and ready, as a dark new era settled over Liberty Island.
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