I can just imagine another image of psylocke:



This lady approached you in the bar and sneakily slipped a mickey into the glass in front of you.

She didn't know that you were celebrating your third year of sobriety, as you always do; You buy a shot and stare it down for an hour... then leave.



She followed you out the door, she tried to strike up some small talk.

You smile wanly and tell her that you have to go home.



She is following you in her car and forces you to pull over at an abandoned ware house.



.......................................................................................

in an empty warehouse alongside the highway...

You are on your knees, arms hanging limply by your sides.

You fought for hours, but her ninjutsu was better than your fighting style.

The nerve strikes leaving you helpless and gasping before her.



She walks around, stands behind you, grabs your collar with one hand-

Places her other fist against your temple.



She starts interrogating you, "who are you? who do you work for? why are you keeping mutant prisoners at your work place? Did you know that you are a mutant?"



You groan softly, and struggle to escape, but you can't. you say, "Lady, I don't know what you are talking about. I am a security guard for a secluded celebrity drug rehab. The outer complex is where I work; the inner complex is where all the celebrities, politician's kids, and so forth get psychiatric care and treatment for illegal drug abuse."



She's angry, her fist presses against the side of your head, wisps of purple-pink psi-plasma glow in the corner of your eye, "You are lying!"

You shout out, "No! I am not!"

There is a flash as the focused totality of her telepathic power stabs into your head...

and everything goes dark.