The desert night shimmered under the glow of Las Vegas’ endless lights, but inside Allegiant Stadium, there was nothing but darkness — and rage.
BBL Beasty, once known to the world as Beast of the X-Men, stood at midfield. His fur was no longer the royal blue of old. It had deepened — streaks of silver and black coursed through it like lightning bolts, his eyes burning with the reflection of the Raider shield emblazoned on his tattered black hoodie.
Once, he was a man of reason. A scientist. A hero. But that was before everything broke. Before he realized the futility of trying to save a world that feared what it couldn’t control. Before Magneto came calling.
“You spend your life fixing things that don’t want to be fixed,” Magneto had said, voice smooth as steel bending. “Why heal them when you could lead those who embrace the chaos?”
At first, Beast refused. But the world kept turning its back. The league rejected his scientific reforms, calling him “unfit” to lead men. The media mocked the idea of a mutant coaching America’s team. Then came the 0-2 start — two brutal losses that turned the Silver and Black faithful against him.
Even his players began to doubt.
But Magneto’s words lingered.
“They’ll only believe in you when they fear you.”
So, Beast stopped trying to be the man he was. He embraced the monster he’d always been told he was.
Game Day – Week 3
The Las Vegas Raiders vs. the Denver Broncos.
Division rival. Desperation game.
Beast stalked the sideline, headset crackling, claws flexing around his clipboard like a predator sizing up prey. The Raider Nation roared from the blacked-out stands, half in hope, half in dread.
“Listen up!” he growled into the headset. “No more fear. No more hesitation. We dictate the chaos tonight!”
The team responded. The defense hit harder. The offense moved with primal precision. Quarterback’s cadence roared over the stadium noise — sharp, feral, fearless. The Denver sideline looked rattled, their coach pacing, screaming, unraveling.
By the end of the first half, the Raiders trailed 21-17. The Broncos had the ball, driving to add on to the bargain. One play.
Beast called a blitz no human coach would ever risk.
Seven men rushed.
The Broncos quarterback never saw it coming.
Sack.
Ball in the air and the silver and black came down with it after the flustered nix chunked it into coverage.
Beast ripped the headset off, his silver-black fur glistening under the stadium lights as the crowd erupted. Smoke and pyrotechnics burst across the field — the first win of the season was all but guaranteed after this monumental momentum shift! The silver and black never looked back and finished the game 73-45 putting the league on notice after downing a for sure playoff contender in the afc.
But for Beast, it wasn’t celebration. It was confirmation.
Magneto watched from the shadows of a private box, a smirk curving his lips.
“You see now, my friend? Dominance suits you.”
Beast said nothing. He stared at the scoreboard, then at his players celebrating — not with him, but because of him. Fear had become respect. Respect would become power.
In the weeks to come, the Raiders clawed their way back. The offense grew sharper, the defense meaner. Every game became a battle of intellect and instinct — the mind of a scientist fused with the fury of a beast.
And as the silver and black stormed back into playoff contention, whispers spread across the league:
“The Raiders aren’t just back. They’ve evolved.”
Late one night, alone in his darkened office, Beast looked at his reflection in the glass. Behind him, the neon lights of Vegas pulsed like a living thing.
“Once I fought for peace,” he murmured. “Now I fight for dominance.”
Magneto’s voice echoed again in his mind.
“The world doesn’t need saviors, Hank. It needs conquerors.”
And as the camera panned out over the roaring city, the Raiders logo shone bright — silver and black, just like the monster who wore it.
The Beast had found his new Brotherhood.
And their kingdom was the desert.
