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Description
Mystique finished off the last of the agents with her martial arts. Sliding under a large table, she snatched one agent's gun and aimed point-blank at Bolivar Trask's face. Her eyes narrowed as she began squeezing down on the trigger. No more innocent mutants would be slaughtered at the hands of the minuscule butcher before her.
She fired a single round. But the bullet ended up hitting the wall a few centimeters from her intended mark.
Mystique raised a brow. She fired again, only for the bullet to miss completely. Pressing her lips, she fired three shots in a row, but not a single one struck Trask.
"Why isn't this working?!" Mystique fumed, firing seven more shots that struck the wall instead of her target.
Before she moved to simply snap Trask's neck, the gun was suddenly swatted out of Mystique's hand.
"Hey!" She whirled to face her attacker. But her confusion increased when she found no one, save for the multitude of unconscious agents on the floor.
Mystique's wrists were suddenly seized before she was caught in a supposed whirlwind.
"Hey!!"
She moved to thrust her foot at the unseen force. But she quickly found that she couldn't move her legs. Or her arms, for that matter. She glanced down, and her confusion boiled into indignant anger when she realized she was completely wrapped up from neck to ankle in thick layers of silver duct tape.
"Hey!!" She thrashed to break free of her sudden bindings, but to no avail. Before she could even blink, she soon found herself facing a boy in his late-teens with silvery hair and a matching leather jacket, who reached over and placed a firm hand behind her neck.
"Hi. I'm holding your neck so you don't get whiplash."
"What?"
Mystique suddenly felt her lips seal shut under another layer of duct tape. "HMMPH!!"
"Whip. Lash." The boy enunciated each word slowly. Within seconds, he and Mystique were gone in the span of a second.
Trask simply stood slack-jawed, struggling to voice his panicked thoughts at the failed attempt on his life. He then yelped when the speedster boy suddenly returned, this time with an older man with long brown hair and bags under his eyes.
"Hello," the other man politely greeted. "We are mutants. And we just saved your life."
Trask gaped like a fish.
"Do try to remember that in the future. Good day!"
And just like that, the two men were gone in an instant. Trask's eyes rolled to the back of his head before he passed out cold on the floor next to a taller agent.

Charles, Erik, and Peter walked back to the plane, with Logan following behind them with the taped-up Mystique slung over his shoulder. She grunted and growled behind her thick gag, struggling all the while to escape her embarrassing predicament.
"I really am relieved you chose to come with us, Peter," Charles thanked the boy. "I take it you enjoyed the thrill of breaking into two government facilities in just one day?"
"Forget all that! I'm just siked I got to hang out with my dad! Who I just learned was my dad a few hours ago!" Peter cheerily replied.
"Try not to make too big a deal of it," Erik mumbled.
"Seriously, though?! Are we not gonna talk about this?!" Peter flicked a hand between him and his estranged father.
Erik sighed. "Once again, no. We will not speak of this ever again."
"Aww..."
"Hate to break up the family reunion, but what're we gonna do with our friend here?" Logan patted Mystique's butt, eliciting an enraged growl from behind her gag.
"For now, we'll take her with us back to the States while we figure out our next move," Charles instructed. "It's too much of a risk letting her off the hook right this second."
"Suit yourself." Logan shrugged as he none-too-gently planted Mystique in one of the spare passenger seats, securing the seat belt around her waist.
She muffled curses behind her gagged lips as she squirmed to find even the slightest slack in her bindings, but the action only served to increase her discomfort. Her face contorted in a scowl when she saw the boy with super-speed walk up in front of her, who awkwardly waved at her with one hand while holding two spray paint cans in the other.
"Just wanna say 'hey'," he greeted. "And also, just wanted to do something to remember this occasion."
Before Mystique could even protest (as unlikely as that was), she could hear the hissing sound of spray paint before looking down at her taped chest, where her motto was scrawled in dripping paint: Mutant And Proud. Mystique's frown deepened when she noticed a small 'X' symbol painted next to the wording.
Peter then leaned over and held up a small handheld Polaroid camera. He struck a goofy pose and stuck his tongue out, while Mystique's heated glare could've melted adamantium. After Peter snapped a picture, he nodded in thanks to his bound captive.
"I, uh... I'm a fan, by the way," he explained. "Hence the quote."
Mystique huffed through her nose as she resumed her struggling. She ignored the rest of the men discussing their next steps, treating her as if she were a mangy animal. She swore that once she freed herself, she would make each and every one of them endure tortures ten times worse than her own, past friendships be damned.

--Think of this as a "deleted ending" of sorts to Days of Future Past, where the group decides to bring Peter with them to Paris. Along with a bunch of duct tape at the ready, so he can do to Mystique what he did to those prison guards.
--Bonus points to those who noticed the references.

Description
Mystique finished off the last of the agents with her martial arts. Sliding under a large table, she snatched one agent's gun and aimed point-blank at Bolivar Trask's face. Her eyes narrowed as she began squeezing down on the trigger. No more innocent mutants would be slaughtered at the hands of the minuscule butcher before her.
She fired a single round. But the bullet ended up hitting the wall a few centimeters from her intended mark.
Mystique raised a brow. She fired again, only for the bullet to miss completely. Pressing her lips, she fired three shots in a row, but not a single one struck Trask.
"Why isn't this working?!" Mystique fumed, firing seven more shots that struck the wall instead of her target.
Before she moved to simply snap Trask's neck, the gun was suddenly swatted out of Mystique's hand.
"Hey!" She whirled to face her attacker. But her confusion increased when she found no one, save for the multitude of unconscious agents on the floor.
Mystique's wrists were suddenly seized before she was caught in a supposed whirlwind.
"Hey!!"
She moved to thrust her foot at the unseen force. But she quickly found that she couldn't move her legs. Or her arms, for that matter. She glanced down, and her confusion boiled into indignant anger when she realized she was completely wrapped up from neck to ankle in thick layers of silver duct tape.
"Hey!!" She thrashed to break free of her sudden bindings, but to no avail. Before she could even blink, she soon found herself facing a boy in his late-teens with silvery hair and a matching leather jacket, who reached over and placed a firm hand behind her neck.
"Hi. I'm holding your neck so you don't get whiplash."
"What?"
Mystique suddenly felt her lips seal shut under another layer of duct tape. "HMMPH!!"
"Whip. Lash." The boy enunciated each word slowly. Within seconds, he and Mystique were gone in the span of a second.
Trask simply stood slack-jawed, struggling to voice his panicked thoughts at the failed attempt on his life. He then yelped when the speedster boy suddenly returned, this time with an older man with long brown hair and bags under his eyes.
"Hello," the other man politely greeted. "We are mutants. And we just saved your life."
Trask gaped like a fish.
"Do try to remember that in the future. Good day!"
And just like that, the two men were gone in an instant. Trask's eyes rolled to the back of his head before he passed out cold on the floor next to a taller agent.

Charles, Erik, and Peter walked back to the plane, with Logan following behind them with the taped-up Mystique slung over his shoulder. She grunted and growled behind her thick gag, struggling all the while to escape her embarrassing predicament.
"I really am relieved you chose to come with us, Peter," Charles thanked the boy. "I take it you enjoyed the thrill of breaking into two government facilities in just one day?"
"Forget all that! I'm just siked I got to hang out with my dad! Who I just learned was my dad a few hours ago!" Peter cheerily replied.
"Try not to make too big a deal of it," Erik mumbled.
"Seriously, though?! Are we not gonna talk about this?!" Peter flicked a hand between him and his estranged father.
Erik sighed. "Once again, no. We will not speak of this ever again."
"Aww..."
"Hate to break up the family reunion, but what're we gonna do with our friend here?" Logan patted Mystique's butt, eliciting an enraged growl from behind her gag.
"For now, we'll take her with us back to the States while we figure out our next move," Charles instructed. "It's too much of a risk letting her off the hook right this second."
"Suit yourself." Logan shrugged as he none-too-gently planted Mystique in one of the spare passenger seats, securing the seat belt around her waist.
She muffled curses behind her gagged lips as she squirmed to find even the slightest slack in her bindings, but the action only served to increase her discomfort. Her face contorted in a scowl when she saw the boy with super-speed walk up in front of her, who awkwardly waved at her with one hand while holding two spray paint cans in the other.
"Just wanna say 'hey'," he greeted. "And also, just wanted to do something to remember this occasion."
Before Mystique could even protest (as unlikely as that was), she could hear the hissing sound of spray paint before looking down at her taped chest, where her motto was scrawled in dripping paint: Mutant And Proud. Mystique's frown deepened when she noticed a small 'X' symbol painted next to the wording.
Peter then leaned over and held up a small handheld Polaroid camera. He struck a goofy pose and stuck his tongue out, while Mystique's heated glare could've melted adamantium. After Peter snapped a picture, he nodded in thanks to his bound captive.
"I, uh... I'm a fan, by the way," he explained. "Hence the quote."
Mystique huffed through her nose as she resumed her struggling. She ignored the rest of the men discussing their next steps, treating her as if she were a mangy animal. She swore that once she freed herself, she would make each and every one of them endure tortures ten times worse than her own, past friendships be damned.

--Think of this as a "deleted ending" of sorts to Days of Future Past, where the group decides to bring Peter with them to Paris. Along with a bunch of duct tape at the ready, so he can do to Mystique what he did to those prison guards.
--Bonus points to those who noticed the references.