Natasha sat at the dining table, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup, her gaze moving over the gathered women—Rogue, Gwen, Wanda, Storm, and Jean. It wasn't often that she called a meeting, but this was a logistical crisis. "Alright," she said, setting her cup down with a dull clink. "We need to talk."
Rogue leaned back in her chair, lazily stretching her arms. "This about the problem?"
Jean smirked, stirring her tea. "Which one?"
Natasha exhaled slowly. "The bodies."
Silence.
Storm was the first to break it, sighing and rubbing her temples. "We can't keep using the school's backyard."
Jean nodded. "It's already full."
Gwen, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "Define full."
Jean didn't even blink. "You'd need a bulldozer to dig through the layers at this point."
Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. "So that option's out."
Rogue tilted her head. "We could—"
Wanda smirked. "Don't worry. I have a solution."
The others turned toward her, sensing that whatever she was about to say was going to be ridiculous.
"Sokovia," Wanda said simply, sipping her tea.
Storm narrowed her eyes. "Sokovia?"
Wanda's smirk widened. "I've already been using it. It's perfect."
Natasha exhaled. "Why am I not surprised?"
Jean looked intrigued. "How many?"
Wanda took another sip of tea. "I stopped counting. But let's just say no one will ever find them."
Gwen, resting her chin in her hand, hummed thoughtfully. "You're saying we turn an entire country into a mass graveyard."
Wanda shrugged. "Why not? Who the hell is going to check?"
The room fell silent. Then, one by one, they all nodded.
Storm smirked. "I can work with that."
Natasha leaned back, arms crossed. "It's secure, and it keeps Kara from noticing."
Rogue, tapping her fingers against the table, grinned. "Sokovia it is."
Problem solved.
Natasha exhaled, satisfied, but she had one more issue to address. Her gaze swept over the group. "Now that that's handled… what are we doing about Mystique?"
A pause.
Jean chuckled first, not even looking up from her tea. "What about her?"
Natasha frowned. "She's playing her own game."
"She's obsessed," Storm pointed out. "Like the rest of us."
Gwen, amused, glanced at Rogue. "She's playing the long con, huh?"
Rogue smirked. "She ain't foolin' anyone but Kara."
Natasha wasn't convinced. "So you're all fine with this?"
Jean finally looked up, her smirk widening. "Natasha, be honest with yourself. She belongs here."
The group exchanged knowing glances.
Storm chuckled. "She's already one of us."
Natasha exhaled through her nose. "Fine. But if she tries anything—"
"She won't," Wanda interrupted smoothly. "She's too deep in it now."
Jean, ever the orchestrator, sipped her tea and grinned. "Let her play. She'll figure it out."
That settled the matter.
Rogue, casually leaning back in her chair, grinned suddenly. "Y'know, speakin' of Mystique, somethin's been botherin' me."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
Rogue's grin widened. "Y'all ever wonder if Mystique's got a higher body count than any of us?"
Silence.
Then, Gwen laughed. "No way. That's impossible."
Storm smirked. "We specialize in elimination."
Jean tilted her head. "Even I find that hard to believe."
Wanda, amused, took a slow sip of tea. "Actually, it's true."
All eyes snapped to Wanda.
Jean frowned. "You're not serious."
Wanda set her cup down with a quiet clink. "Mystique's been at this long before any of us. She doesn't just kill people—she erases them."
A chilling silence settled over the group.
Jean's eyes narrowed. "How many?"
Wanda smiled. "Millions."
Even for this group, that was a lot.
Rogue let out a low whistle. "Damn."
Storm exhaled. "Alright, that's… impressive."
Jean, after a moment, grinned. "I'll give her credit. She's dangerous."
Natasha crossed her arms. "She's playing by our rules. As long as she sticks to them, I don't care."
And with that, Mystique was accepted—without her even knowing.
Meanwhile, Mystique was pacing the halls of the mansion, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her.
This wasn't normal.
She was the predator. The infiltrator. The killer.
So why the hell was she following Kara around like a pet?
Her footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor, her pulse quickening the longer she thought about it.
This wasn't like her.
She had killed millions. She had absorbed entire lives, entire legacies, and discarded them like nothing.
Yet, somehow…
Kara was different.
Mystique exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples.
Get it together.
Kara was not special. She was not prey.
Then why the hell couldn't she stop thinking about her?
Mystique gritted her teeth.
She wasn't one of them. She wasn't obsessed.
…Was she?
She exhaled slowly. No. No, this was just another hunt.
…Then why did she feel like she was the one being hunted?
Kara, meanwhile, was lounging on the couch, halfway through an entire pizza, flipping through channels.
"Man," she mumbled, "I feel like I haven't seen a guy around here in weeks."
Natasha, passing through the room, barely paused. "Huh. Weird."
Kara took another bite. "Hope they're all okay."
Natasha didn't even blink. "I'm sure they are."
Kara, still blissfully unaware, shrugged. "Oh well. I'm sure they're fine."
Somewhere, deep in Sokovia, yet another pile of bodies disappeared without a trace.
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