The world was shifting, and everyone knew it.
In a private chamber deep within an undisclosed Brotherhood hideout, a heavy silence lingered in the air. A long, polished table stretched across the dimly lit room, occupied by some of Magneto's most trusted lieutenants—Mystique (appearing as her true self for the first time in weeks), Toad, and Sabretooth. The television in the background looped Wanda Maximoff's global speech, her voice smooth, commanding, and undeniably powerful.
Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto—stood by the screen, arms folded, his sharp blue eyes locked onto the image of the Scarlet Queen of Sokovia. He had been watching her carefully ever since she stormed into Congress, turning the world's attention onto herself. What she had done was impressive. Too impressive.
"We should be celebrating this," Mystique said, breaking the silence. "She's just given every mutant in the world hope."
Magneto didn't turn to her. His gaze remained on Wanda's image, her piercing red eyes burning through the screen.
"And yet, she's dangerous," he finally said. His voice wasn't angry or resentful—it was contemplative. "Not because she threatens our cause. Because she may replace it."
Mystique raised an eyebrow. "You think mutants will abandon you for her?"
Toad scoffed. "What, just 'cause she's got a fancy title and a pretty face?"
Magneto turned slightly, leveling a cool gaze at them. "That pretty face has the world hanging onto her every word. That pretty face just offered mutants a sanctuary without war. And that fancy title? It means she has power—true, political power. The kind of power I have spent decades trying to take."
Mystique leaned back in her seat, her yellow eyes gleaming. "She's not like you, Erik."
Magneto gave a small chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "That's what I fear the most."
The room was quiet again.
"She's already done what we haven't," Magneto continued. "She didn't need war to take her place in the world. She built herself into a ruler while we were still fighting in the trenches."
Mystique crossed her arms. "So, what do you want to do about it?"
"I don't know yet." Magneto turned back to the screen, watching as Wanda's speech replayed. "That's what troubles me."
Meanwhile, at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, a very different conversation was unfolding.
Professor Charles Xavier sat in his office, hands folded before him, his usually calm face laced with deep thought. Across from him, Jean Grey and Storm stood, having just finished their report on how the students had been reacting to Wanda's rise.
"The younger ones are already talking about it," Jean said. "Some of them are asking if we'll open ties with Sokovia. If we're going to work with her."
Xavier exhaled softly. "I'm not surprised. Wanda Maximoff has… a certain charm about her."
Storm, standing near the window, arms crossed, watched the rain trickle down the glass. "It's more than charm," she murmured. "She has presence."
Jean turned toward her, sensing something behind the words. "You feel it too?"
Storm hesitated, but she nodded. "It's faint, but yes. The day she walked into Congress, it was like a part of me… recognized her."
Jean pursed her lips. "Recognition isn't quite the right word for me, but I understand the feeling. Every time I see her, it's like there's something pulling me in. Like my body knows something my mind doesn't."
Xavier observed them both with quiet curiosity. "It's possible she has a passive influence. Some mutants give off more than energy—they radiate emotion, power, even subconscious commands without realizing it."
Jean shook her head. "No. This isn't psychic manipulation. It's… something else."
Storm turned back to Xavier. "What do you think, Charles? You've met her before."
Xavier's lips pressed together. He turned his wheelchair slightly, looking out toward the fields of his school. "I met Wanda Maximoff and few weeks ago she seemed so much younger then, before she was the center of the world. And despite her recent actions, I do not believe she is someone who would resort to violence."
Jean tilted her head slightly, intrigued by how certain he sounded. "You're sure about that?"
Xavier nodded. "I believe her intentions are genuine. She is trying to build, not destroy. That is the greatest difference between her and Magneto."
What Xavier didn't know—what no one in that room knew—was that Wanda Maximoff had already built her empire on a mountain of corpses.
Storm glanced at Jean before finally admitting, "I want to meet her."
Jean smirked. "I was thinking the same thing."
Xavier exhaled. "That time may come sooner than you think."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Xavier turned to face them again. "Because Wanda Maximoff is already on her way to New York."
Thousands of miles away, aboard a private Sokovian aircraft, Wanda sat in the luxurious seating area of her jet a recent acquisition thanks to the generous donations of Hydra. Wanda was sipping wine as the skyline of New York City came into view.
Natasha sat across from her, legs crossed, scrolling through intelligence reports on her tablet. "The school will be watching you closely."
Wanda smirked. "Good. I want them to."
Gwen, who sat to the side of them, fidgeted slightly. "You really think this is a good idea? Showing up unannounced?"
Talia, reclining comfortably with a drink in hand, let out a chuckle. "Showing up unannounced is half the fun, Blondie."
Wanda swirled her wine in her glass, her red eyes gleaming. "Charles and I have unfinished business. And besides…" she smirked, "I've been meaning to have a chat with Jean, and I never got a chance to meet Storm. I've heard a lot about her she sounds like a powerful woman.
Gwen's eyebrow twitched. "What do you want with Storm?"
Wanda leaned back into her seat, stretching out leisurely. "She's special. I can feel it. And I want to see the weather witch for myself."
Back at Xavier's School, Rogue and Mystique (as Crystal Frost) sat together on the mansion's stone steps, watching the sunset.
"You think Xavier's right?" Rogue asked, her voice quiet. "You think Wanda Maximoff's really what she says she is?"
Mystique, keeping her Crystal Frost disguise, let out a soft chuckle. "I think she's a lot of things, kid."
Rogue pursed her lips. "I just… I don't know if I belong here."
Mystique turned her head slightly. "And you think you'd belong in Sokovia?"
Rogue exhaled. "Maybe."
Mystique smiled softly. "Well, you might get your chance to find out."
Rogue frowned. "Why?"
Mystique's smirk widened. She reached out and tucked a strand of white-streaked hair behind Rogue's ear, lowering her voice as she whispered,
"Because she's coming here."
The aircraft touched down just outside Westchester County, New York, as night fell.
Wanda stepped out of the plane, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.
Xavier's mansion loomed in the distance.
With a slow, confident smirk, Wanda strode forward to recruit more women into her harem.
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