Warren Worthington the III, once and again known as Angel, fell out of the portal his girlfriend created. He landed with a loud "Whumph!" as he smacked onto the hard ground. He sat up and caught his breath. Where was he? Those strange maggot-like creatures were no help. He was fairly certain they couldn't speak, and they weren't giving him any chance to assume anything otherwise, as they continued to keep quiet. They had followed him, or so he thought. It seemed now that they were ignoring him completely; they tore off from their previous battle to race away. Warren figured it was more than likely that they were racing towards their…partner? Friend? Part of them?

Who knew? In their likes, they could be actual parts of him, or perhaps some sort of symbiotic twin issue. Warren has traveled the cosmos, peeked into different times and realities, experienced powers great and small, and once saw a reality of him where he invented the Twinkie. He kept it banana cream flavored.

He was trying to distract himself from the unease he was feeling; not just about this entire location, or the foe they fought, but the curtness that Betsy was recently expressing to him. She seemed to always be a step ahead of him now, and impatient for him to catch up. He knew her powers were unstable, but lashing out? At him?

Launching himself into the air, he flew as swiftly as he could. Warren was trying to catch up to those strange metallic-like creatures, and crested stealthily on the power of organic wings. He didn't call out, he didn't want to be noticed. After all, even if they led him to their enemy, it was better than standing around, waiting to be ambushed. He'd find her here; maybe before she found him. She should be contacting him if she was awa-

'Angel? Warren, love, I'm en rou-'

Angel didn't know who they - whoever they were! - got the drop on him, but they did, because on reflection after the events that will transpire, the last thing he could recall was flying in the air towards what looked like an enormous hall at the end of a long hallway.

Then nothing.

Betsy Braddock, the woman known as Psylocke, appeared from teleporting through a shadow with her boyfriend Warren Worthington the third, also known as Angel. Or she did some of that to her expectations. She knew Warren was nearby, she could sense him as well as she could sense - sensed - Beast. For a brief moment he had cried out, and she had been fortunate enough to be passively scanning, picking up the eddies of that frantic call. Teleporting was new to her, and seemingly proved by the fact that she and Waren were now separated.

Fortunately, she was a telepath and could figure out how to get to him as quickly as possible. While it was true that the Crimson Dawn altered her powers, she hadn't expected them to affect her telepathy as well. She carefully padded along the hallway she was deposited in, making her way towards where she sensed Angel landed.

'Angel? Warren, love, I'm en route. I hadn't expected this to happe-'

Warren's mind closed to her without ceremony. He never even had the chance to respond. He must've been attacked. Fading to a nearby shadow, Betsy gathered her thoughts. She'd need to be cautious, the enemy could use anything to track her.

Carefully, she extended her telepathic abilities in a low level screening. That should satisfactorily provide her with enough warning when their foe came to collect her, as they most assuredly would. This was not a friendly place, the low lighting ambience, cold hard metal notwithstanding, it was the general chill of the place.

Perhaps it was a real, physical chill. Yes. This place was definitely cold. She could almost see her breath. However, what she felt in her mind was the more disturbing aspect of this place. Wherever Beast had called her to, she had also taken the one known as Maggot; she had been fighting…talking…well, mostly fighting him before they had been pulled into action by her friend's distress call. As Maggot was unconscious, she figured that Angel and she could keep him subdued, while they located and rescued Beast.

She traveled through the chilly halls, desperate to find Warren. She couldn't sense him, or Maggott, so neither of them were able to be located. Hank was also in that category. What was she going to do?

Fading back against the wall, she did her best not to stand out. Stealthily making her way through a cavernous hallway, she saw enormous statues lining the walls, which she skirted towards. Between each of the gargantuan effigies, she saw various copies of ancient relics. A basalt stele full of Akkadian script clearly was the Code of Hammurabi. She saw an ancient looking version of the Magna Carta. Another was a simple cauldron and a stack of pebbles next to it. All sorts of instruments to "extract" confession, examples of historical laws…

Nearing the apse of the enormous hall Betsy found herself in were row after row of sere, ascetic benches, practically pews. Before them, instead of a church, was more furniture for a trial. And before them all, stood blindfolded Lady Justice. Curious, her scales were missing, there was only a sword in her hand.

What is happening here? She asked herself, so distracted by the eerie display. There was a distinct menace in the air, as if judgment had been decided before the trial convened.

'What is this place?'

She felt so alone; there were no humans around her, and she decided to spend less time wondering and more time scanning with more than just her eyes. She had worked hard on training her powers, Crimson Dawn be damned. She was adept at raising alert systems to keep her safe; and she'd do it now as well. She continued to search, confident in her defenses.

Her psychic alert system would've worked, if she was met with a human to resist her. Instead, automatons came surging from the darkness and surprising and swiftly subduing the telepathic ninja. There was always an exception to the rule, a loophole to exploit, after all, and it wasn't always the heroes that benefited from it.