Storm's POV
The wind was not mine.
It screamed, wild and panicked, torn by too many forces at once — heat blasts from Scott's visor, ice slicks from Bobby, metal shrieking in Magneto's wake. Every current pulled in a different direction.
And still… I listened.
I always listened to the wind.
Above the clash of powers, the yelling of combatants, and the cracking of stone beneath our feet, the wind carried something strange. A shift in weight. A warning.
Then came the sound.
Snap. Hiss.
My eyes flicked upward on instinct — just in time to see a red-and-white capsule bounce once before a pulse of white light exploded from it.
What emerged… was small.
A squat, green-scaled creature landed with a heavy thud on the statue's cracked metal platform. Its eyes narrowed. Its arms crossed.
It was… pouting?
One of the Brotherhood mutants — the tall one with bone spikes jutting from his shoulders — actually laughed. "What the hell is that?"
The little thing glared at him.
I felt it — the pressure in the air. The shift in atmosphere.
And then—
Boom.
Rocks rose from the floor in a jagged burst, slamming into one mutant's chest and hurling him back.
Another tried to rush it — and got a face full of Crunch for the effort. Sharp fangs. Brutal power.
Then it began controlling the Earth to throw rocks and manipulate the ground to capture the mutants. Dust and debris exploded like miniature mortars, launching attackers into the air or pinning them beneath rubble.
I widened my stance, steadying against the blast winds from the tiny titan's fury. Debris clattered past me. The Brotherhood's formation broke like a shattered tide.
The little monster didn't flinch once.
Behind me, I heard Jean mutter, "That's… not ours, right?"
I spared a glance at the direction it had come from — and spotted them. Three figures floating in mid-air, suspended by a psychic field.
A boy — maybe 9 or 10, with sharp eyes and a calm composure that didn't match his age.
A yellow creature sat on his shoulder like it belonged there. Another floated beside him — a woman, glowing with psychic light and grace I hadn't seen outside of Jean.
He had sent the creature to help us. Without a word. Without a warning.
And we needed it.
I turned back toward the machine as Magneto began its preparations.
There wasn't time to waste.
"Jean! Bobby! With me! Grab Logan and Scott too!"
We surged forward — and the storm followed.
But behind me, I heard another roar of stone and power, and I knew:
We weren't fighting alone anymore.
***
Ash's POV
The wind tugged at my coat as I hovered just above the edge of the statue's crown, Gardevoir's psychic hold still cradling us gently in mid-air. I watched from above, silent, focused, as the battlefield shifted.
The X-Men — Storm, Jean, Cyclops, Bobby, Wolverine — they took the opportunity Larvitar had bought them.
They moved fast, slipping past the scattered Brotherhood like threads through torn cloth, heading straight for the statue's inner structure. Toward Magneto. Toward Rogue.
Good.
That part of the plan was working.
But it was Larvitar that held my gaze.
He didn't just fight — he commanded the field.
The mutants had outnumbered us. At least a dozen still in the fray. Some with claws, some with flame, one with what looked like bone tentacles. Big, mean, angry.
And none of it mattered.
Larvitar moved through them like a living earthquake. He'd launch a Rock Slide not just to attack — but to cut off a flanking route. When one opponent slipped on the debris, Larvitar already had a Smack Down aimed at their exposed side.
He baited faster enemies into charging him head-on — only to vanish behind a chunk of broken scaffold, letting them stumble straight into a pit he'd created with careful Rock Throw placements.
Every hit landed with intent. Every step was calculated.
I recognized the style. The decisions. The training.
He was fighting the way we'd practiced. The way we'd honed together under the sun back home — and then later, on snow-covered fields in Greenland.
He wasn't just strong. He was smart.
And the Brotherhood didn't know what hit them.
One of them — the woman with fire coming out of her arms — actually backed away after a brutal Crunch sent her partner into unconsciousness. She turned to run.
Larvitar didn't chase.
He just stood there, arms crossed again, tail twitching as if to say, Go ahead. Tell the others.
Pikachu gave a low whistle beside me, clearly impressed.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Good job, little general," I muttered. "They won't forget you."
Below, the field was his now.
And up ahead — beyond the walls of steel and history — the real battle waited.
The wind carried smoke and dust now.
Larvitar still stood in the center of the chaos, unshaken. But I couldn't linger.
The mission wasn't over.
Not yet.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance over my shoulder.
"Gengar."
The shadows at the edge of the crown shimmered. A ripple. And then the familiar grin appeared — upside down, half-phased through the statue's copper helm.
He tilted his head, waiting.
"Stick with the X-Men," I said quietly. "If they need backup, give it. But stay hidden. I don't want Charles or Jean catching a whiff of you if you can help it."
Gengar gave an exaggerated salute with one ghostly hand, then sank back into the shadows like ink in water.
That would do.
I turned back to the torch, eyes narrowing. The hum of the machine inside had started now. I could feel it — a low vibration in the air, unnatural. Wrong.
They were running out of time.
I reached toward my belt. Gardevoir hovered beside me already, her gownlike body flowing with psychic poise, silent but attentive.
"Mask us," I said. "No light. No signature. Nothing."
Her eyes glowed faintly in response. The air around us shimmered for half a second before flattening — like sound muffled through snow.
I couldn't even hear my own heartbeat.
Perfect.
***
Gengar's POV
The battlefield was chaos. Just the way he liked it.
Gengar glided silently along the statue's shattered scaffolding, body halfway inside the walls, halfway outside. He felt no wind, no weight. Just shadows and pulses of thought. Screams. Explosions. Thunder. Delightful.
His grin widened.
Down below, Wolverine was slashing at the blue one again — the shifter with yellow eyes and a wicked grin. Gengar recognized something kindred in her: chaotic, dangerous, slippery.
But Logan didn't need help. He moved like a beast with purpose, claws gleaming in the light of distant lightning. Gengar paused in the air above them, watching for just a moment, bobbing with interest. Mystique's foot lashed out, Logan caught it. His claws came down.
"Handled," Gengar giggled to himself, vanishing upward through the stone.
Elsewhere, another battle struggled.
Cyclops — the one with the fire-eyes — was blasting at a man who shimmered with a force field. The energy rolled off Unus like water on glass, and Cyclops' stance had shifted to frustration. That amused Gengar. So serious. So sharp.
Still… Ash said help them.
Gengar phased down through the scaffolding behind Unus, quiet as breath. The man didn't even flinch.
A small pulse of ghostly energy shimmered between Gengar's palms — swirling, unpredictable.
Confuse Ray.
With a flick, it floated out and struck Unus between the shoulders.
Unus faltered. His field rippled. Cyclops didn't waste a second.
BOOM.
The beam hit clean. Unus hit the wall and didn't get up.
Gengar laughed, invisible and unheard. He floated upward again, spinning as he went, curling through the rafters like smoke.
Then came the crack of lightning.
High above, Storm — the weather witch — raised her hands to the sky, and the clouds obeyed. The one they called Toad lunged at her with grotesque grace. A second later, the air sang with power and the mutant was fried mid-leap.
Gengar cackled, his tongue flopping out of his mouth in approval. Zaaap! Good one.
Everything was going according to plan.
Until her voice echoed
Jean.
"There's… someone here.""I can't see them. I can't even feel them properly.""Like a ghost—"
Gengar froze in mid-spin, eyes widening slightly.
Oops.
He zipped backward into the shadows of the iron framework, giggling softly again, this time with more caution. His invisibility wasn't perfect — not to someone like Jean. He'd have to be more careful.
Still, this was fun.
Then… it came.
A pulse.
A thread pulling at the back of his mind — not words exactly, but a command. A clarity of intent.
Kill him.
Gengar blinked.
He paused, mid-phase inside the wall. It wasn't a mistake. Ash's thought had come through clean, controlled… and deadly serious.
The command wasn't reckless. It wasn't emotional. It was simply final.
Gengar had never heard it before. Not like this.
Not an attack.Not a disable.Not a spook.
A kill.
The joy faded a little, but not entirely. Gengar was loyal. Whatever Ash had seen — whoever the target was — it was reason enough.
And besides…
He grinned again, slower this time, eyes glowing as he melted into the stone.
He'd been waiting for this.
He phased downward, peering through the curved inner shell of the statue. The scaffolding gave way to a wide platform, lit by orange emergency lights and twisted shadows.
Standing in front of the only path leading to Magneto… was Sabretooth.
Tall. Massive. Feral. His breath fogged the air, fangs bared in a constant, half-formed snarl. His claws were stained. His muscles coiled with predatory readiness.
A gatekeeper.
Gengar licked his lips.
He loved breaking things that thought they were strong.
First Strike.
Gengar emerged from the shadows with a Shadow Ball — black energy swirling with malice — and slammed it into Sabretooth's shoulder.
The feral mutant staggered… then turned, snarling.
"Come out, freak!" he roared, claws flashing.
Gengar darted around him like wind, vanishing and reappearing with Shadow Sneak, slicing through his side.
Sabretooth howled and slashed the air — but caught nothing. Gengar was gone before the claws even reached.
Another Dark Pulse, this time to the knees. A solid hit.
Sabretooth collapsed to one leg, panting. But… he was grinning.
The wounds were closing.
Rapidly.
Too rapidly.
Gengar floated higher, silently annoyed.
Healing factor. Right. Not fun.
He tried Night Shade, warping reality around Sabretooth's perception — making him stumble, trip, panic briefly.
Still, the beast rose again, snarling with laughter now. "You'll have to do better than that, ghost."
He charged.
Gengar moved through the scaffolding, passing through metal beams like mist. He reappeared above Sabretooth's head and dropped a Confuse Ray — it staggered the brute for a moment, but didn't hold.
Too stubborn.
Too feral.
Still… Gengar wasn't afraid.
He was annoyed.
And that's when Ash's voice came again.
Clear. Icy. Final.
"End it. Use Curse."
Gengar stopped moving.
His grin returned… but it was wrong now. Off. Too wide.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Gengar floated into the air and raised both stubby arms.
His body began to glow with eerie purple light — not power, but price.
He turned toward Sabretooth, who lunged again.
Too late.
The move took hold.
Curse.
A jagged, ancient symbol flared in the air between them, burning itself into reality. Sabretooth froze mid-charge, his eyes bulging.
The ghostly mark slashed itself into his shadow — a mark of doom.
Sabretooth screamed.
It wasn't pain. Not at first.
It was something deeper. Internal. Like his organs were turning inside out. His regeneration tried to keep up — but this wasn't a wound. It was decay. Slow, suffocating, spiritual erosion.
His legs buckled. His breathing became shallow. His claws twitched weakly at the ground.
He roared once before his voice gave out.
He collapsed.
Twitching.
Fading.
Still.
Gengar descended slowly beside him, hovering over the now still form. His eyes glowed once more, then dimmed.
The grin faded into silence.
He'd followed Ash's order.
No laughter now.
Just the hush of victory.
And death.
***
Ash's POV
Gengar was in position. I could feel it through our bond — not just as images or sound, but emotion. Anticipation. Curiosity. A flicker of hesitation.
Then his eyes met Sabretooth's.
My jaw tightened.
Sabretooth.
He wasn't just a villain. He was a constant—a recurring horror story written in blood. The things he'd done to Wolverine alone were monstrous. The psychological torment. The betrayal. The endless games of hunter and prey. But it didn't stop there.
I remembered.
He killed children in some timelines. Tortured mutants. Was always there when things went dark. A living, breathing trauma loop for Logan. And a wildcard for everything else.
A monster that just kept coming back.
Wolverine was strong. But even he had his limits.
So I made the call.
"End it. Use Curse."
The words left me without hesitation.
Not because it was easy.
But because it was necessary.
Some futures weren't worth letting happen. Not again. Not here.
One less horror to deal with. One less variable to go wrong.
Gengar didn't reply with words. But I felt it — his pulse of surprise, then… acceptance. A ripple of satisfaction and something darker underneath.
I closed my eyes and steadied my breath.
This wasn't the first hard decision I'd made.
It wouldn't be the last.
A few seconds later, the bond hummed again.
Faint.
Final.
Sabretooth was dead.
And the path to Magneto just got clearer.
I opened my eyes.
"Good work," I whispered.
__________________________________________________________________
A.N. I had fun writing this chapter. What did you think of the real-life depiction of the move Curse? Do you think it should be nerfed? Or maybe Stronger? tell me your thoughts in the comments!
P.S. Sorry the chapter got delayed... I got distracted reading a new Fanfic ;)
Just one wish before I roam,A Power Stone to call my own.A little light, a boost, a spark—To help me shine when times get dark.