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PART 6
"A Pawn of The Hand"
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Betsy's eyes fluttered open, greeted by pure darkness. Her instant reaction was panic, she tried to figure out where she was. Her arms were above her head, secured by heavy chains, and her feet were shackled to the floor. Through the gaping hole in the back of her shirt, she could feel cold stone as she leaned back against the wall. Slowly, she began to remember the struggle with the assassin, tumbling through a window... she could now feel the cuts where pieces of glass had sliced through her tan skin. Her body ached from the fall, and her breathing became something of a labor as she regained feeling throughout her body. She wondered to herself how long she had been unconscious, and if Professor Xavier was alive and well.

A sliver of soft orange light cut through the darkness and slowly spread, blinding Betsy momentarily. In a matter of seconds, her eyes adjusted to the new light levels and she saw the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway.

"Where am I," Betsy demanded, her voice sticking in her throat from lack of fluids.

"You are here," the woman said, and though Betsy couldn't see her face, she could tell by her voice tone that the figure was smiling.

"Where is that?"

"Where it is," she replied simply, moving closer to Betsy.

"Get back! I'm warning you!" Betsy closed her eyes and concentrated as the Professor had taught her, focusing her psychic energy into a mental bolt to try to incapacitate the woman. Her power began to manifest itself as a glowing surge of pink psychic energy which slowly took the shape of a butterfly, but it quickly fluttered out of existence. She drew in a few sharp breaths, she did not have the energy to combat the woman.

"You are in no position to threaten me, girl... what is your name?" The woman was directly in front of her now, Betsy could smell her perfume, a delicate fragrance of mixed flowers. In the dim light, she could now see that the woman was Asian. She was young, perhaps twenty, and beautiful, with long, flowing black hair with purple streaks and pale skin.

"B-Betsy Braddock," she said softly, recognizing the woman as the assassin who had tried to kill Professor Xavier, "please don't hurt me."

"I am Kwannon," was the reply she received. The woman brought her hand up to Betsy's chin and held her face for a moment, looking her over, "do not tremble, I am not going to hurt you unless I am given good reason to. You are in Japan, in the home of Matsu'o Tsurayaba. You now work for the Hand."

"What if I choose not to?" Betsy asked, a challenging look in her eyes.

"Then, my dear child," Kwannon replied, releasing Betsy's face with a rough shove to the side, "I will be forced to kill you." She saw Betsy shudder violently and smiled, quite satisfied with herself.

"That is enough, Kwannon," a man's voice said from the doorway. Betsy looked up again to see a Japanese man enter. He was older than Kwannon, probably in his thirties, and simply reeked of power. He was dressed in the best clothing money could afford and carried himself in a self-important manner, "if you scare the little butterfly too badly, she will not work well for us."

Kwannon bowed quickly, "Yes, Lord Matsu'o, as you wish." She backed away from Betsy, a deadly look in her eye as she stared into Betsy's soft orbs, which were filling up with tears. Now Matsu'o approached Betsy, looking her over and smiling.

"My dear little one, do not cower," he said, "you have nothing to fear if you cooperate, but I must warn you, if Kwannon feels that you are trying to cause trouble, she will deal with you in a most... unpleasant manner." A smile came to his lips, "Believe me, there are things worse than death." In the dim light, tears sparkled on the soft skin of Betsy's cheeks. Matsu'o and Kwannon turned and left her in her dark room, promising to return in the morning.

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Betsy's first few days with the Hand proved difficult. Matsu'o often instructed her to use her powers in unethical ways, to help him track down targets that Kwannon was to assassinate. Kwannon began to grow angry with Matsu'o, feeling that she didn't need the assistance of young Miss Braddock to strike their targets. She mistreated Betsy every chance she got, verbally abusing her, always reminding her how useless she felt Psylocke was.

Psylocke had been with the Hand for almost a month now, and she had begun to give up hope that the X-Men would ever find her. She cried the nights away, wishing to be with her friends, to be in a comfortable environment, instead of lonely and chained up to a wall. As she went through her usual sobbing one evening, the door to her cell slid open. Betsy saw Kwannon enter, her left arm weighed down by a sack she carried.

"You are coming with me, Little Butterfly," Kwannon said, roughly grabbing Betsy's wrists and unlocking the shackles which restrained her. Psylocke let her arms drop to her sides, rubbing at her wrists, attempting to regain feeling in them.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Matsu'o wants me to take you on a job, to begin to train you in the ways of the ninja." Her voice was full of spite. Kwannon felt as is Matsu'o intended to eventually replace her with this child, and it greatly disturbed her sense of honor and importance. "You will wear this," she dropped the sack she had been carrying on her back, kicking it open to reveal a purple jumpsuit, with thin, vertical red stripes along the midsection. Kwannon turned her back and exited the room, closing the door to give Betsy privacy as she changed. She smiled to herself, realizing this would be her opportunity to rid herself of the child once and for all. It would be simple to convince Matsu'o that Betsy had attempted to escape on the mission, and that force had been needed to stop her. A self-satisfied grin crept over Kwannon's ruby-painted lips. Perhaps the night would not be a complete waste after all.

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To Be Continued
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