A/N: Thanks very much Tique, Lady StarChaser and LuckySparrow for the reviews. They were much appreciated.

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- Facing Summers -

I let the Spanish janitor go earlier, even though he kept bothering me. Something about him was off, but I couldn't pin down exactly what. And how the hell did he managed to get into the office in the first place? As far as I know, the palm-print detector next to the door isn't programmed to allow simple janitors inside, not when the computers inside contain such delicate information. After I'd slipped the items I needed inside the bag I brought with me, including the tranquillizer gun that didn't show up in metal detectors, I closed the bag and locked the drawer again. Pocketing the keys, I briefly glanced at the screen of the computer that Stryker mainly uses. The screensaver was rolling, and everything seems normal. Yet, I couldn't shake off the feeling something isn't quite correct there.

But never mind that now. Stryker has a job for me to do. It is to obtain Professor Xavier when he's visiting Eric Lensherr, also know as Magneto, in that plastic prison of his. And I will. Mr. Lensherr has had the pleasure of experiencing the effect of Stryker's solution himself. Lensherr told Stryker everything he wanted to know, from Xavier's School being merely a public face to a mutant facility, as well as the Cerebro, which is Stryker's main goal. That bastard intends to use Xavier and wipe out every mutant from the face of the earth. Including me. And there's nothing I can do about it; I can only do exactly as Stryker tells me to do, and that's what I'm doing right now. I'm submitting myself to my doom, even if unwittingly. And all this just because his own son turned out to be a mutant.

I dismiss those thoughts as I draw closer to my destination, the plastic of the tranquillizer gun cool against my palm. Undeniable excitement suddenly courses though my veins; it's the anticipation of a fight, a thrilling adrenaline rush. I'm actually looking forward to the confrontation of the other mutant, Scott Summers, and this feeling makes me anxious. I can't tell anymore if it's the solution making me feel like this, or is it really me. Have I started to change during the captivity? I've always been a competitive person, but I've never liked violence and physical confrontations. Have I truly started to slowly enjoy this?

No! No, I am not like that.

//I wouldn't be so sure about that, Yuriko//

Fuck you.

The white doors slide open, allowing me in as I draw closer to them. As soon as I step in, I raise my arm and fire the gun, the dart flying thought the air and hitting Summers straight on his right shoulder. He stares at it for a second, before lifting his head and looking at me as his hand already flies up to his visor.

I'm surprised the sedative doesn't seem to be having much of effect on him, and before I even realize it, there's a bright flash of red and an incredibly powerful force slams on my shoulder, knocking me back violently and making me lose my footing as well as my grip on the gun. As I catch my breath, struggling to recover from the power of the blast that was stronger than I thought, I'm vaguely aware that the guard next to the door also gets blasted, until there are sounds of scuffling feet and punches as Summers fights the guards off of him.

By now I've recovered enough to pick myself up from the ground, getting on my hands and knees. My shades are lying on the floor, useless, but right now I couldn't care less. A sudden, intense anger floods my mind, making me see red. The only thought in my head now is to beat the living hell out of that man. Slowly, I turn my head towards Summers, carefully getting up from the floor just as he throws the guards' plastic batons away and whirls around to blast the door to Lensherr's cell where Xavier is trapped.

You stupid, foolish man... you should know not to turn your back to your enemy, especially if the enemy is an angry female who could slice off your damn head with one swipe. The aggression inside me builds up even further, and a small snarl escapes my lips as I spring up and charge towards Summers, fury fuelling my steps. He turns around, sensing my approach, but it's already too late for him to react.

With a yell, I jump up and bring my feet up in the air, slamming my heels against the door on the both sides of Summers' head while grabbing him by his collar tightly. I can't see his eyes, but I know he's surprised by the way his jaw drops slightly. Whether is because of my speed or the cold, metallic blue of my eyes. In the next second, I slam my other foot against his temple, hard, as I twirl by body around and land on the floor on my hands and feet. Summers drops on the floor at the same moment, unconscious.

I get up, standing up slowly and crack my stiff fingers out of a habit as I look down at the three men, all out cold. Small smirk quirks my lips, and I feel immensely satisfied that I'm the last one standing. But at the same time, I'm very disappointed. I had hoped for a better opponent and a proper battle. The very thought makes me feel disgusted. I'm not supposed to enjoy fighting or harming others!

//Admit it, you loved it//

Stiffly, I walk back to the spot over the entrance, picking up my shades from the floor. Luckily they're undamaged, so I slip them back on and try not to pay attention to the persistent voice nagging inside my mind that's been keeping me rather unwanted company for quite a while already.

//You loved it and you hate yourself for loving it//

The doors slide open again, and Stryker strolls in with five other men. Two proceed to detain Summers and the rest of them open the door that leads to the cell, going in. Stryker gazes down at the unconscious Summers, before flicking his gaze towards Lensherr's cell, smirking smugly. "Good work, Yuriko."

I stand there stoically, inclining my head marginally in acknowledgement even though I feel like letting him know exactly where to shove his thanks. My mouth remains tightly closed. Stryker orders the men around before signalling me to follow. "We have lot to do, yet," he smirks, starting to walk out of the room.

And as always, I follow him mutely.

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