Kara yawned, stretching lazily as she strolled through the halls of the mansion, completely unaware of the chaos that was brewing around her. Across from her, Rogue walked beside her, humming idly as she subtly cast glances toward the newest addition to the mansion—Mystique, who trailed just a few steps behind them, perfectly playing the role of an injured refugee.
Of course, Rogue wasn't fooled. Neither were Jean, Wanda, Gwen, Natasha, or Storm. They had all seen through Mystique's disguise the moment she set foot in the mansion.
They just didn't care.
Rogue glanced at Jean, who gave her an almost imperceptible smirk, Wanda chuckled softly, and Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples. Gwen, ever the troublemaker, leaned in toward Rogue. "So, uh… are we just ignoring the fact that she's clearly Mystique?"
Storm snorted. "Obviously."
"She's obsessed," Jean added, taking a sip of her tea as they walked. "We understand that kind of devotion."
Wanda's smirk widened. "She's one of us now."
Meanwhile, Mystique, fully aware that they had seen through her disguise but choosing to play along, maintained her mask of innocent curiosity, casting occasional glances at Kara, studying her every move. There was something about this woman. Something unnatural.
Kara suddenly turned toward her, flashing her usual bright grin. "Hey, Raven! You settling in okay?"
Mystique felt it again. That pull. That strange, suffocating thrill of being noticed by her. Her pulse quickened before she could stop it. This was dangerous.
She smiled, feigning modesty. "Yes, thank you, Kara. You've all been very welcoming."
Jean smirked over the rim of her teacup. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Meanwhile, deep in the lower levels of the mansion, the Bald Resistance convened in secret.
Beast and Wolverine sat at a table, their smooth, hairless heads reflecting the dim light. Cyclops, now freshly bald from the shower sabotage, sat beside them, arms crossed. The war had escalated Cyclops figured if he couldn't beat Logan and Beast, he might as well join them.
Beast placed a file labeled "Final Retaliation" onto the table. "It is time."
Wolverine growled, still adjusting to the barren wasteland that was his head and face. "What's the move?"
Beast steepled his fingers. "Xavier took everything from us. But today, we strike back. We will traumatize him so badly that nature itself corrects it's mistake."
Cyclops frowned. "That sounds… vague."
Beast nodded. "Precisely."
And so, the final phase of the Bald War began.
It started subtly.
Xavier awoke to find his wheelchair replaced with one covered in luxurious faux-fur upholstery. He frowned.
Then, the whispers started.
"Did you hear? The professor used to have amazing hair."
"I heard his baldness was a curse placed upon him in ancient times."
"I saw a picture of him in the archives. His hair was incredible."
Xavier dismissed it at first. But then came the files.
Late that evening, he opened a document labeled "The Truth About Your Hair", and found detailed, ancient texts discussing a long-lost Omega Mutant Gene tied to follicle regeneration.
His hands trembled as he read.
"This… this can't be real," he whispered.
But then, the hallucinations began.
His reflection in the mirror seemed different. His scalp tingled. A sensation he had not felt in decades.
And then, at the height of his paranoia, it happened.
The Bald Resistance gathered outside his office, wearing long, hooded cloaks, chanting in low, ominous tones.
"Hair begets power."
"Follicles awaken."
"BALDNESS WILL BE PURGED."
The lights flickered.
Xavier gripped the desk, his breath quickening. "No… No, this is just psychological warfare… They cannot… They—"
Suddenly, he felt it.
A rush of energy. A tingling sensation rushing through his scalp.
Then—hair.
His once-smooth head sprouted thick, luxurious locks of golden-brown waves that cascaded past his shoulders, silky and radiant.
Xavier screamed.
The entire mansion froze as a telepathic shockwave of pure emotion erupted from Xavier's office.
Doors flew open. Windows rattled. Jean, sipping her tea, nearly choked as she sensed the sheer overwhelming emotion radiating from Xavier's mind.
Wanda sat up straight. "What the hell was that?"
Jean, blinking in mild shock, suddenly grinned. "Oh, this is going to be good."
The X-Men gathered in the halls as Xavier emerged, moving his wheelchair into the light.
His hair flowed in the air like a supermodel on a high-budget shampoo commercial. It was thick. Lustrous. Perfect.
Cyclops, still clutching his bald head, gasped in horror.
Beast froze.
Wolverine's claws slowly retracted as he whispered, "What the hell."
Xavier smiled.
He ran his fingers through his beautiful, magnificent hair, a look of pure smug satisfaction settling onto his face.
"I have ascended."
Silence.
Cyclops, his voice shaking, took a step forward. "P-Professor… we can fix this. There's still a way to—"
Xavier tossed his hair over his shoulder. "Fix what?"
Beast gaped. "You're supposed to be bald."
Xavier gave him a sympathetic glance. "Oh, Henry. That was my previous life. A life of denial." He flipped his hair dramatically, letting the light catch it just right. "I now see the truth. I was meant to be glorious."
Cyclops trembled. "This isn't fair."
Xavier tilted his head. "What isn't fair, Scott?"
Cyclops gritted his teeth. "YOU HAVE HAIR NOW."
Xavier chuckled, running his hands through his thick waves. "And you do not."
Cyclops collapsed onto his knees. "NOOOOOO—"
Jean, watching the spectacle unfold, let out a deep sigh, setting her teacup down.
"Well," she murmured, "that was fun."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "You're done playing with them?"
Jean smirked. "They've suffered enough."
She focused for a moment, reaching into Xavier's mind, activating the dormant psychic parasite she had planted long ago.
"Enjoy your new hair. Embrace it. Never question it again," she commanded.
Xavier blinked. Then, his smile widened.
"Yes," he whispered, running his fingers through his glorious mane. "Yes… this is who I was meant to be."
Jean sat back, satisfied.
Wanda exhaled. "So… the mansion is finally normal again?"
Jean smirked. "Normal is a relative term."
At that moment, Kara poked her head in. "Hey, why is Cyclops crying in the hallway?"
Jean just smiled.
"Nothing, Kara. Just a little… team-building exercise."
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