{ 2 Mutants }
Ever since the news of Bolivar Trask and his sentinels, Mystique had been a force not to be reckoned with. And god help those that got in her way.
But even revolutionaries couldn't do it all the time. Hidden in her blonde form, Mystique sat at a bar, nursing a scotch, a tired look in her eyes. She looked like she'd aged about thirty years, without having actually aged at all.











