July 6, 2009
The X-Men gathered in the makeshift war room of their mobile base, a repurposed cargo jet stationed on the outskirts of New York. The faint hum of its engines served as the backdrop to the tense discussion. On a large screen at the center of the room, data gathered from their infiltration of AIM's facilities scrolled past: blueprints, genetic research, and profiles of individuals enhanced by AIM's experiments.
Beast stood at the forefront, his furred hands flying across the keyboard as he synthesized the findings. His glasses reflected the glow of the monitor as he spoke, his voice calm but tinged with urgency.
"We've identified Synapse's origin," Beast began, bringing up an image of a man with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes. "Dr. Finneas Gryve, a former geneticist with AIM, volunteered for an experimental procedure involving neural enhancement. The process amplified his mental capabilities exponentially, but at a cost—his sanity. AIM's modifications transformed him into the telepathic and telekinetic entity now known as Synapse."
"Typical AIM," Wolverine grunted from the corner, arms crossed. "Turnin' eggheads into monsters for fun and profit."
Storm leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "Why would AIM risk enhancing someone so unstable? What could they possibly gain?"
Beast adjusted his glasses and pulled up another file, this one marked with a red DNA helix. "That's where things get interesting. The enhancements weren't solely AIM's doing. Synapse's transformation was augmented using an advanced genetic template that AIM had no capacity to produce on its own."
Cyclops frowned. "Then who gave it to them?"
Beast's fingers danced over the keyboard again, and a familiar, sinister face appeared on the screen: Nathaniel Essex, better known as Mister Sinister.
"It seems AIM has entered a partnership with Mister Sinister," Beast said, his voice heavy with distaste. "In exchange for advanced AIM technology, Sinister provided them with mutant DNA and proprietary genetic algorithms. This alliance allowed AIM to create their most recent wave of hybrid test subjects, including Synapse."
The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of the revelation settled in.
Storm broke the silence, her voice filled with resolve. "Sinister's involvement changes everything. This isn't just about AIM's experiments—it's about mutantkind being used as a resource for their ends. We cannot let this continue."
Cyclops nodded, his jaw set. "Agreed. We need to locate Synapse and cut off this alliance before it escalates further. What else do we know about his current location or plans?"
Psylocke stepped forward, her violet eyes sharp. "From the psychic disturbances I've been tracking, Synapse is on the move. He's using the chaos of the city to mask his presence, but he's leaving a psychic trail. It's faint, but with the drones you've deployed, I can narrow it down."
Beast typed rapidly, overlaying the drone footage with a map of New York. "If we cross-reference Psylocke's readings with the data we obtained, we might pinpoint his location. Give me a moment…"
The screen displayed a flashing red dot, marking a warehouse in the industrial district.
"There," Beast said. "It's heavily fortified and equipped with AIM tech. If Synapse is hiding anywhere, it's here."
Wolverine cracked his knuckles. "'Bout time. Let's suit up and pay this guy a visit."
Cyclops raised a hand, his tone measured. "Not yet. We need a strategy. If Sinister is involved, we can't assume Synapse is working alone. There's likely more at play here than we know."
Beast nodded. "Indeed. And if Synapse has access to Sinister's genetic tools, he may have created... accomplices. We'll need to proceed with extreme caution."
Psylocke spoke up again, her voice steady. "I'll keep tracking Synapse's movements psychically. But we're not doing this alone—I've already arranged for Spider-Man to assist us. He knows this city better than anyone, and his insight could be invaluable."
Wolverine raised an eyebrow but said nothing, while Storm exchanged a brief glance with Cyclops.
Cyclops hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Fine. But Psylocke, keep Spider-Man in the loop, and make sure he knows exactly what he's walking into. We're not pulling any punches with Synapse or AIM."
Beast stepped back from the console, his expression grave. "This partnership between AIM and Sinister has the potential to spiral out of control. If we don't stop them here, it could escalate into something far worse."
The team dispersed to prepare for the mission, each member carrying the weight of what they had learned. In the dimly lit war room, the monitor remained aglow, the faces of Synapse and Mister Sinister a chilling reminder of the fight ahead.
The industrial facility loomed ahead, its crumbling exterior and darkened windows belying the high-tech operations hidden within. Spider-Man swung in low, landing near the X-Men as they gathered near the facility's main entrance. Cyclops stood at the forefront, his visor gleaming, with Storm, Wolverine, Beast, and Psylocke flanking him.
"So, you're the infamous Spider-Man," Wolverine said, giving him a skeptical once-over. "You don't look like much."
"Funny," Spider-Man shot back. "I was about to say the same about you."
Wolverine growled, but Cyclops stepped between them. "Focus. We've got bigger concerns than introductions."
Psylocke shot Peter a glance, her expression a mixture of apology and amusement. "Let's move. The psychic disturbances are strongest inside. We're likely not alone."
Before Peter could respond, a sharp, psychic shockwave rippled through the air, making everyone stagger. A group of figures emerged from the shadows of the facility, their movements jerky and unnatural. Their eyes glowed faintly, a telltale sign of psychic tampering.
"It's not Synapse," Psylocke said, her psychic blade igniting in her hand, "but they're connected to him. I can feel it."
The figures lunged, and chaos erupted.
Storm launched into the air, summoning a gale that swept several attackers off their feet. Cyclops fired precise optic blasts, carving a path through the oncoming horde. Wolverine charged headlong into the fray, claws slicing through debris and opponents alike.
Spider-Man leapt into action, webbing up one of the attackers before flipping over a collapsing metal beam to catch a civilian trapped beneath it. "Hey, AIM rejects! Try not to drop the building on innocent people, huh?" he quipped, swinging the civilian to safety.
Psylocke fought with surgical precision, her psychic blade cutting through the attackers' defenses. As she moved, she instinctively synced with Spider-Man, their teamwork flowing effortlessly.
"Left side, incoming!" Psylocke called out.
Spider-Man reacted instantly, webbing a heavy piece of debris and yanking it away before it could strike her. "Got it! Behind you!"
Psylocke spun, her blade slashing through an assailant who had tried to flank her. "Impressive reflexes," she said with a smirk.
"Impressive everything," Spider-Man shot back, flipping over her to ensnare another attacker in a web cocoon.
The rest of the X-Men began to notice. As Cyclops blasted another opponent, he glanced toward the duo. "They're working like they've been teammates for years," he muttered to Beast.
"Indeed," Beast replied, pausing only long enough to toss a particularly heavy attacker into a wall. "A natural synergy, it seems."
As the fight continued, Spider-Man's focus shifted to the civilians trapped in the chaos. Spotting a group huddled under a crumbling catwalk, he shot a series of webs to stabilize the structure before swinging down to guide them to safety.
"Everyone out! Don't stop running until you're clear!" he shouted, vaulting over another attacker to block a psychic blast aimed at the fleeing group.
"Spider-Man, to your right!" Psylocke called.
He ducked just in time, her psychic blade arcing over his head to take down the attacker. "Nice save!" he said, returning the favor by webbing an attacker who had tried to flank her.
Within minutes, the battle was over. The psychic criminals lay incapacitated, several of them cocooned in Spider-Man's webs. The X-Men regrouped, surveying the scene.
"No sign of Synapse," Storm said, descending gracefully. "This was just a distraction."
"Aimless cannon fodder," Wolverine muttered, wiping his claws clean. "But they gave us somethin' to chew on."
"Spider-Man," Cyclops said, turning to him, "we'll interrogate the ones you caught. Maybe they'll give us a lead."
Spider-Man nodded, catching his breath. "They're all yours. Just be careful—they've got psychic signatures all over them. That can't be good for anyone."
Beast examined one of the restrained attackers and frowned. "He's correct. These individuals have been tampered with on a fundamental level. Whoever did this is playing a very dangerous game."
Psylocke stepped forward, her gaze meeting Spider-Man's. "You were incredible out there. You saved lives and handled yourself like a seasoned teammate."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, shucks. You're gonna make me blush in front of the cool kids."
Storm smiled faintly. "You've earned your place here, Spider-Man. Your instincts are sharp, and your heart's in the right place."
"Don't get cocky," Wolverine grumbled, though there was a grudging respect in his tone.
Psylocke placed a hand on Spider-Man's shoulder. "We'll find Synapse. And when we do, I'll need you at my side."
Spider-Man grinned beneath his mask. "Count me in. Let's show these AIM guys what happens when they mess with mutants and friendly neighborhood wall-crawlers."
As the X-Men prepared to move out, Spider-Man lingered for a moment, watching the team with a newfound sense of purpose. He hadn't just proven himself to them—he'd proven something to himself as well.
The mid-afternoon sun cast long shadows across the city as Spider-Man swung through the air, Psylocke leaping rooftop to rooftop beside him with effortless grace. Despite the gravity of their mission, Peter's stomach growled audibly, loud enough to make Psylocke glance at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Hungry?" she asked, her voice laced with dry amusement.
"Hungry doesn't even begin to cover it," Spider-Man replied, landing on a nearby rooftop. "I'm officially in hangry territory. Look, I know this great place—a food truck that does the best fish and chips this side of the Atlantic."
Psylocke crossed her arms, smirking. "Fish and chips? How very quaint. Are you trying to impress me, Spider-Man?"
"Me? Impress you? Never!" he said, hands raised in mock defense. "I mean, it's not like I've been reading up on the cultural staples of British cuisine or anything... okay, maybe a little."
She chuckled, following as Peter swung down to street level. Sure enough, a bright blue and white truck with the name Fin & Fry Chippie parked on a quiet corner. A waft of golden-fried goodness filled the air, making even Psylocke's reserved demeanor soften slightly.
"Alright, I'll bite," she said, stepping toward the truck. "But I'll warn you—my standards are high. A proper chippie is a sacred thing. If this fails to deliver, I'll be sorely disappointed."
Peter placed his order for two servings and turned to her. "No pressure, right?"
The vendor handed over the piping hot meals, and Spider-Man eagerly paid. They found a nearby rooftop to settle on, the city buzzing below them. Psylocke examined her portion critically before taking a tentative bite.
"Well?" Peter asked, already halfway through his first piece.
She took her time before nodding approvingly. "Surprisingly decent. Though I'd hardly call it proper. The chips are too thick, and the batter could be crispier."
Peter feigned a dramatic gasp. "Blasphemy! I bring you fine New York street food, and you dare insult it?"
She smirked, her violet eyes twinkling. "It's not an insult—it's constructive criticism. Besides, I appreciate the effort. It's… thoughtful."
They ate in companionable silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the city filling the air. Finally, Peter leaned back, balancing on his elbows.
"You know," he said, "sometimes I think being Spider-Man is the most complicated job in the world. Like, how do I balance everything? The hero stuff, the day job, the rent, my social life—or what's left of it. And don't even get me started on the laundry."
Psylocke looked at him thoughtfully. "I can relate. Being a telepath... it's not just a power. It's a burden. I see into people's minds, their pain, their fears. It's a constant struggle to not lose myself in their chaos."
Peter tilted his head. "That sounds… overwhelming."
"It is," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "And then there's my own identity. For a long time, I didn't know who I was—split between the person I was and the person I was becoming. Sometimes, I still wonder."
Peter looked at her, his usual joking demeanor softened. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing great. You're one of the most capable, collected people I've ever met."
She raised an eyebrow. "Capable and collected? Are those your standards for flattery?"
Peter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I was going to go with 'badass and incredibly cool,' but I didn't want to oversell it."
Psylocke's smirk returned. "A valiant effort, Spider-Man. But I'll let you know if you ever manage to truly impress me."
The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken understanding. They weren't just partners in a mission—they were beginning to see each other in ways neither had expected.
The tension broke as Psylocke's communicator beeped sharply. She sighed, activating the device. Cyclops's voice came through, terse and urgent.
"We've got a lead on Synapse. Recon suggests movement near the river docks. We're regrouping now. Coordinates sent."
Psylocke turned to Spider-Man, the playful warmth in her eyes replaced with focus. "Duty calls."
Peter stood, tossing his empty food container into a webbed-up trash can below. "Let's go save the day—again. But I'm holding you to that 'proper chippie' critique. Next time, you pick the spot."
She smiled faintly, leaping off the rooftop with Spider-Man close behind, both ready to face whatever came next.
Spider-Man and Psylocke moved swiftly through the maze of industrial backstreets toward the river docks. The air was thick with tension, the hum of distant machinery mingling with the faint crash of water against the piers. Peter swung low, his voice breaking the silence.
"These docks are always a hotbed for bad guys. What is it with criminals and waterfront properties?"
Psylocke leapt gracefully to the next rooftop, her psychic blade briefly flaring to life in her hand. "Perhaps they appreciate the scenic views," she replied dryly, though her senses remained on high alert.
Before Spider-Man could offer a witty comeback, the shadows around them seemed to deepen unnaturally, and a cold, disorienting pressure settled over the area. Both heroes froze as Synapse emerged from the mist, his towering figure glowing faintly with an eerie, psychic aura.
"Ah, Spider-Man and Psylocke," Synapse said, his voice a smooth blend of menace and mockery. "Two flies caught in my web. How delightful."
Peter fired a web toward him without hesitation, but it passed harmlessly through Synapse as his form shimmered like a mirage. "Yeah, we're not here for your monologue, big guy," Spider-Man quipped, landing in a crouch.
Synapse smirked. "Oh, but you'll listen. You'll listen because I insist."
Suddenly, the world around them fractured. Peter felt a wave of dizziness as the ground beneath him shifted, the familiar cityscape dissolving into a chaotic swirl of images. When the haze cleared, he saw Psylocke standing across from him, her psychic blade raised and her expression cold and hostile.
"Betsy?" Peter asked, his voice faltering.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" she said, her voice sharp and unfamiliar. "Always hiding behind your jokes. I should've known better than to trust you."
Peter staggered back, confusion gripping him. "What are you talking about? Psylocke, it's me!"
Meanwhile, Betsy's vision was equally distorted. In her mind's eye, Spider-Man's mask was gone, replaced by the face of one of her greatest enemies from her past. The figure lunged toward her, and she responded instinctively, her psychic blade slicing through the air.
The two collided, each fighting desperately to defend themselves against the other, both blind to the illusion that Synapse had cast. Peter's spider-sense blared, but the overwhelming confusion dulled its clarity.
A sharp slice from Psylocke sent Peter tumbling into a stack of crates. He groaned, struggling to rise while keeping hold of the cut along his chest as Psylocke pressed her advantage, her blade shimmering dangerously close to his neck.
"Betsy!" he shouted again, holding his hands up defensively. "Snap out of it! This isn't you!"
Her mind reeled as the faint echo of his voice cut through the fabricated hostility. She hesitated, her psychic defenses flaring as she fought back against the oppressive force in her mind. With a determined cry, she shattered the illusion, the false images melting away like mist.
"Peter?" she whispered, seeing him battered and defenseless below her.
He managed a weak smile. "The one and only. And hey, you're not trying to kill me anymore—so, progress?"
Before she could respond, Synapse's laughter rang out. "How touching. But you're far too late to stop me."
A psychic wave slammed into Psylocke, sending her sprawling. Synapse advanced, his hand raised to strike a killing blow. Peter, despite his injuries, forced himself to his feet.
"Oh no, you don't!" he shouted, firing a webline at Synapse's wrist and yanking him back just enough to throw off his aim. Peter leapt forward, tackling Synapse to the ground.
The strain of the fight was evident as Peter's movements slowed, but he gritted his teeth and refused to give up. Psylocke recovered quickly, her psychic blade igniting once more as she joined the fray.
"Spider-Man, on your left!" she called, and he ducked just in time to avoid a blast of psychic energy.
Together, they pressed Synapse, their synergy returning as they fought side by side. But Synapse's power was overwhelming, and with a triumphant sneer, he unleashed another wave of psychic energy, sending both heroes reeling.
Just as Synapse prepared to finish them off, a brilliant optic blast struck the ground in front of him, forcing him to retreat. The X-Men arrived in full force, Storm leading the charge with a whirlwind that disoriented Synapse further.
"Stand down, Synapse!" Cyclops ordered, his visor glowing ominously.
Synapse snarled, his form flickering with psychic energy. "This isn't over," he hissed, disappearing into the mist with a final psychic burst that left the team momentarily blinded.
As the haze cleared, Peter collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily. Psylocke knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concern softening her usually stoic expression.
He managed a tired grin. "Been better. But hey, at least I stopped you from stabbing me."
She chuckled despite herself. "And I suppose I owe you for saving me from that sneak attack."
Cyclops approached, his gaze shifting between the two. "We'll regroup and plan our next move. Synapse won't get far."
As the X-Men prepared to move out, Psylocke lingered with Spider-Man for a moment. Their eyes met, a newfound trust solidifying between them.
"Thanks for having my back," she said quietly.
"Always," Peter replied. "Just don't make a habit of turning me into a punching bag, okay?"
A rare smile crossed her lips. "I'll try my best."
They followed the team into the night, their bond stronger than ever as they prepared for the battles yet to come.
The X-Men's base was quieter than Peter expected. He'd always imagined mutant hideouts to be sprawling places filled with advanced technology and constant activity, but this one felt surprisingly intimate. Dim lighting and the soft hum of machinery in the background gave it an almost serene atmosphere.
Peter sat on a medical bed, his Spider-Man suit torn in several places. A med-kit rested on the table beside him, its contents barely touched. He carefully applied a bandage to the cut on his chest, wincing slightly as the adhesive stuck to his skin.
"Stubborn as ever, aren't you?" Psylocke's voice came from the doorway, calm but with a faint trace of amusement.
Peter looked up and grinned beneath his mask. "What can I say? I've got this DIY thing down to a science. Super glue works wonders for both costumes and wounds."
She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her psychic blade flickering briefly in her hand before disappearing. "You could've just let Beast handle it. He's far more qualified."
"And miss the chance to impress you with my incredible first-aid skills? Never," Peter quipped, his voice light despite the exhaustion in his posture.
Psylocke stepped closer, taking the bandage roll from his hands. "Here, let me," she said, her tone softening.
Peter hesitated but allowed her to apply the bandage to the cut. Her movements were careful and precise, the same poise she carried into battle.
"You know," he said, breaking the silence, "for someone who nearly stabbed me earlier, you're pretty good at patching me up."
Her lips curved into a small smile. "For someone who fought back against me without hurting me, you're surprisingly forgiving."
"Eh, I've had worse," Peter replied with a shrug. "One time, a guy threw a pumpkin bomb at me. Another time, I got body-slammed by a rhino-man hybrid. Your psychic blade? Piece of cake."
Betsy couldn't help but laugh softly. "I'll admit, I underestimated you. You're tougher than you look."
Peter leaned back slightly, careful not to strain his injured side. "And you're sharper than you look—both literally and figuratively."
The room fell quiet for a moment, the banter giving way to a more reflective atmosphere. Psylocke finished securing the bandage and stepped back, her gaze lingering on Peter.
"You brush things off so easily," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Does nothing ever weigh on you?"
Peter paused, his mask hiding the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "Plenty of things weigh on me," he admitted after a beat. "I just learned that if you let the bad stuff pile up, you can't see the good stuff anymore. Like, for example, meeting some really cool X-Men who didn't immediately kick me out of their secret base."
Betsy tilted her head, studying him. "You're deflecting," she said knowingly.
"And you're dodging," Peter countered, his voice softer now. "You've got that look in your eyes, like you've been carrying something heavy for a long time. But hey, no pressure. Secrets are kind of my thing."
Her expression softened, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned toward the window, her silhouette framed by the faint glow of the city lights beyond.
"You're different," she said after a pause. "Most people I work with don't approach things the way you do."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Peter replied. "You're not so bad yourself, you know. Beneath all that stoic warrior stuff, I think there's someone who cares a lot more than she lets on."
She glanced back at him, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "Don't get used to it."
"Too late," he said with a playful shrug.
The unspoken tension between them lingered, both of them acutely aware of the growing connection but unsure how to address it. For now, the mission loomed larger than anything personal, and neither was ready to cross that line.
As Betsy moved toward the door, she glanced back at him one last time. "Get some rest, Spider-Man. You'll need it."
Peter gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am. Thanks for the top-notch first aid."
She smirked before disappearing into the hallway, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. He leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as a small, contemplative smile formed beneath his mask.
"Yeah," he murmured to himself. "She's pretty amazing."
The chamber was dimly lit, a glowing array of screens casting an eerie luminescence across the room. Synapse sat at the center, his pale, elongated fingers drumming rhythmically against the arm of his chair. Each screen displayed footage from the chaos of the previous day—Spider-Man weaving through collapsing debris, civilians being pulled to safety, and Psylocke's psychic blade slicing through AIM's operatives with precision.
Despite the setbacks, a small, chilling smile tugged at his lips. He leaned back, his sharp features illuminated by the light of a display showing the map of New York City, marked with points of interest.
"They're relentless," Synapse muttered, his voice low and cold. "But even the strongest minds can be broken."
He swiped his hand across the interface, bringing up detailed profiles of Spider-Man and Psylocke. On one side, there was Peter Parker, masked and agile, his movements fluid and unpredictable. On the other, Betsy Braddock, poised and focused, her psychic abilities a deadly counter to Synapse's manipulations.
"Two thorns in my side," he mused, tapping Spider-Man's profile. The footage replayed his nimble maneuvers, his persistent ability to evade and counter even Synapse's most calculated attacks. "An enigma. A man with no apparent psychic potential who thrives in chaos. A mere insect, and yet..."
His gaze shifted to Psylocke. "And you... a formidable mind, even among mutants. A warrior who dares to challenge my supremacy in the psychic realm. Together, you two make an infuriatingly effective pair."
The grin faded as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes narrowed. "But even the strongest pairs have weak links. Fault lines waiting to be exposed."
He gestured to another screen, which displayed rows of genetic data and blueprints of advanced psychic-amplification technology. Each piece of data bore the unmistakable imprint of Mister Sinister's genius.
Synapse's mind raced through his plans. The failures of the previous day had cost him valuable resources, but they had also served their purpose: testing the resilience of his enemies and revealing their vulnerabilities.
"Sinister's tools have given me everything I need," he said, his voice rising with a note of triumph. "Mutant DNA spliced with AIM's technological prowess—a perfect synthesis of power and precision. And now, I will turn their strengths against them."
He activated a holographic projection in the center of the room. A sprawling neural grid lit up, representing his plan to unleash a psychic-powered wave across New York City. The grid pulsed with energy, a virtual simulation of the chaos to come. The devices, placed strategically across the city, would not only amplify his control but suppress the will of anyone within their reach.
"This city," he murmured, staring into the glowing web, "will bow to my will. Their minds will be my canvas, and I will paint a masterpiece of order from the chaos."
Yet even as the thought of victory thrilled him, Synapse's mind returned to Spider-Man and Psylocke. Their persistence, their unyielding determination—it was more than an annoyance. It was a threat.
He turned back to the screens, his fingers dancing across the interface to display his latest weapon: a device borne of Sinister's genetic experimentation. It pulsed with energy, designed to disrupt psychic frequencies and, more importantly, attack the neural pathways of those who resisted.
"They won't see it coming," Synapse said, his voice brimming with malice. "Spider-Man and Psylocke will fall—not as heroes, but as examples. Their defiance will serve as a warning to anyone foolish enough to stand against me."
He rose from his chair, the projection of New York City casting a shadow over his angular figure. "The time has come to move beyond the minor skirmishes. No more tests, no more distractions. It's time to strike at the heart of their strength—and sever it."
Synapse turned to a console, his hands moving swiftly to finalize his preparations. The city's Fourth of July chaos had been just the beginning. The next phase would cement his control and eliminate his most dangerous adversaries in one stroke.
With a final command, he activated the prototype weapon, its hum filling the room like an ominous heartbeat. "Let's see how long you can resist me now," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Your minds will break, and your bodies will follow. The city is mine."
Author's Note: Hello everyone and Merry Christmas. I finally got around to writing a chapter with more of the buildup I was hoping for. I was looking forward to getting Spider-Man to meet with at least some of the leading X-Men and I managed to implement a date between Spider-Man and Psylocke as well. This is all going to be a precursor to the big escalation with Synapse of course and I look forward to putting it out there for everyone to enjoy. I'm looking forward to sharing it with you all and hope you enjoy the character development between Spider-Man and Psylocke as well.