Leaning forward in the chair, Iceman flipped the monitors to show the Danger Room. Instantly, the screens filled with otherworldly visions. An orange sky with violet clouds, three moons colored green, blue and yellow hovered in the sky, bizarre twisted spires stretching to the heavens, thin rocky archways bridged between tall plateaus, and large puffball fungi littering a rusty desert canyon valley. Bobby had been many places with the xXx-Men, but couldn't recall ever having been to such a place.
Betsy Braddock leapt into view, her black leotard with its red sash standing out clearly against the alien background. Psylocke was another delectable babe that Bobby wouldn't have minded tagging, but once again, she had a thing for another of the xXx-Men—the high flying Archangel, one of his very best friends in the world. Bobby remembered when the British lady joined their ranks. She looked very different back then. A broad face, stiff upper lip, pale skin, she was the epitome of British breeding. Then, the goddess Roma's Siege Perilous took all of the active xXx-Men, when they faced Forge's mortal enemy, the Adversary, and dispersed them to the far corners of the world, memories wiped clean. Bobby hadn't been there, but he remembered reading the reports that the team filed, once they managed to get back together, and get their heads right. Betsy had been changed the most, out of all of them. Somehow she had been transformed into the very image of Revanche, an oriental assassin for the ninja clan known as the Hand and the latest love interest of the nefarious Mandarin. The transformation went deeper than merely surface appearance, for the sedate Miss Braddock now found herself to be an adrenaline junkie, with an insatiable appetite for extremely kinky sex.
The martial arts training she had somehow been imparted with during the transformation kicked into full gear now. Whereas Ororo had fluid motion through the Olympic sized swimming pool, Psylocke now demonstrated that graceful skill upon the dry unearthly landscape. Nearly unnatural in her movement, she seemed to glide like some phantom image on Bobby's view screen. He still could not recognize the training scenario she was running, so he pulled up the program on a supplemental monitor.
Limbo. Magik's realm. Betsy was running Illyana's personal training program.
From the corner of her eye, Betsy saw the movement. They were small, nasty looking beasts, low to the ground and coming in fast from under the puffball fungi. How many, she could not ascertain, but one thing was certain...there were a lot of them. Reaching deep inside her, she felt her new power, her telekinesis, raw and clumsy. Even deeper still, she could feel the calling of her telepathy, but knew better than to access it. Betsy Braddock was a very rare telepath, and it was the uniqueness of her mental matrix that made her a living trap for the entity known as the Shadow King. Its original name was Farouk, an evil Egyptian that once met Charles Xavier in a psi-war that ended up killing it's body, but not before the malevolent beast could escape into another's psyche. It had been body hopping for the last forty years, until it attempted to gain control over Betsy. It tapped into her telepathy, and she in turn, shut it off, locking it away inside her very mind. Even now, she could still hear it's voice, calling to her, silently, beckoning her to unleash it's awesome power.
That would never happen, she swore. She would die before allowing the monster who nearly destroyed the xXx-Men with it's perverted desires to be free again. Strangely enough, for her sacrifice in retaining the Shadow King, her mutant mental powers expanded, developing powers of telekinesis that she never knew she had. For the adrenaline junkie, this was an incredible blessing. Now, instead of forming a psychic knife that cut through the shields of even the most gifted telepaths, she manifested a telekinetic sword blade, mentally severing molecular bonds of anything that she sliced through.
She unsheathed her psionic weapon now, as the creatures quickly approached. It was invisible to the naked eye. In truth, Psylocke supposed that only telepaths and telekinetics had actual awareness of the power she unleashed. To the psychically challenged, she was merely a woman in a black leotard, waving her arm around. To the more adept, however, the virtual katana glowed like a small star, hovering just off of her fingertips. She wasn't sure which category the little beasties she saw swarming in to attack her fit into, and honestly, the adrenaline junkie within her didn't care.
Bring it on.
Iceman watched in anticipation with mixed feelings of dread and awe filling him. He knew she had deployed her psychic weapon, not because he could sense it, but because of her particular combat stance. She was leaning into the onrushing attackers, one arm dragging behind her as a counterweight. The first demon spawn rushed out from under the fungi, it's appearance resembling that of an overgrown Rottweiler with porcupine quills adorning it, flinging them at her with deadly precision as it closed the gap.
Betsy swung her telekinetic sword with ease, deflecting the poisonous darts, much to the beastie's surprise. She continued her flowing kata form, bringing the weapon up over her head, and then down upon the spitting maw, slaying the foul creature. Simplistic, nearly mindless in performance, the maneuver was second nature, coming to her as easy as breathing. Still more of the monsters emerged from the fungus foliage, their sizes ranging from a tiny house cat to a massive workhorse, some resembling humanoids, others far more bizarre. Psylocke moved with the grace of a dancer amongst them, her psychic blade weaving an intricate pattern in the air, slicing effortlessly through the various attackers. When she wasn't deploying the weapon, she merely pushed them away from her with the blunt brute force of will.
Iceman was in awe. Betsy was truly a sight to behold. Even without the advantage of telepathy, Psylocke seemed to have a supernatural awareness of where the monstrosities were, striking at the creatures without even needing to turn to face them. As they continued to press their attack, Bobby noticed that now Betsy was hefting large rocks with her telekinesis to repel the demons. They were getting close now, claws nicking her, shredding at the leotard, pushing her back away from the valley of fungus, towards the high rocky ridges. She leapt from the collective hoard, landing upon a large rocky overhang, overlooking the valley. The creatures were snarling and screeching en masse before her, held at bay by one hand generating an invisible force field of telekinetic might. She was breathing hard, sweat pouring from her brow. The sheen of perspiration coated her bare flesh, soaking through the leotard. Bobby watched silently, wishing that her costume had been a thin white instead of the dark color that only opaquely hugged her skin. His jaw dropped open in surprise, as a large rock behind her shifted, unfolding itself into a very large and very familiar threat, rearing a massive arm back, ready to strike.
Sym. Magik's extremely unpredictable and treacherous demonic familiar, for lack of a better term. To Illyana, his loyalty was literal and absolute, but for anyone else, certain death would be far welcomer than what the demonspawn would be inclined to do.
Bobby leaped for the intercom system, toggling it on. "Betsy! Look out, behind you!" he screamed.
"Bobby?" Psylocke cried in surprise, turning into the coming blow. The sound of hard demonic flesh slamming into Betsy's lean oriental figure made Bobby flinch up in the Monitor Room, watching in horror as her body sailed through the air in a loose rag doll flop over the gnashing snarling monstrosities and into the massive puffball fungus field with a large poof of spores and a sickening thud. The monster known as Sym flexed and stretched, almost casually, dark purplish wine colored skin stretched tight over the massive rippling muscles usually found on a bodybuilder. The dark pupil-less eyes gleamed with malevolent glee and the toothy maw of the demon hitched up to a crooked smile on its face.
Psylocke was still sprawled out within the large noxious looking cloud of spores, barely moving. The horde of creatures, shy after Betsy's brutal taming session, slowly stepped closer to her vulnerable prone form.
Bobby reached for the remote safety interlocks override, and realized that Betsy had disabled them.
Again
.
"Shit." Iceman swore. The simulation in the Danger Room wasn't going to simply shut off now that Betsy was in peril of losing her life, as it normally would. Bobby had been craving some excitement tonight, and it appeared that Psylocke was going to provide it, although not in the pleasant relaxing manner he had been hoping for. Jumping up, Bobby Drake grabbed a mobile communications pad and ran out of the room, heading towards the Danger Room.
"Psylocke! Come on Betsy, answer me!" Iceman cried into the two-way device. No response. "
Shit!
Storm! We have a situation in the Danger Room! I need you there, immediately!"
