Mystique bowed her head as the shards of mirror rained down around them. Her reflection scattered in a million pieces and taunting her no matter where she looked. She gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles pale, and for a moment looked like she might be sick.
"You have to come with me," she repeated finally, launching off from the counter, mindless of the broken glass, throwing herself at Tony. If this was it...if this was how the world was going to go out..then Mystique was going to manage to do one thing right. She used to be a good person. Right? Didn't she?