July 10,2009
The evening air was thick with tension as the Iron Wolves moved into position across an abandoned warehouse district in New York City. Nyoirin stood at the center of a dimly lit room, a map of the city spread across the table before him. His steely gaze scanned the marked locations where The Hand's forces were most concentrated. This was it—the moment he had been planning for since his arrival in the city.
Silver Sable, Bullseye, and Taskmaster stood a few steps away, each lost in their own thoughts as Nyoirin issued final orders to his men.
Silver Sable adjusted the straps on her combat gear, her expression stoic. She had always prided herself on her professionalism, but this job had taken her further into chaos than she'd anticipated. The Iron Wolves were undisciplined, their loyalty to Nyoirin driven more by fear than respect.
Still, she had no illusions about her role in this fight. Her reputation was built on taking on impossible missions, and this was no exception. Yet, for the first time, she felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.
"This city is on the brink," she muttered, mostly to herself. "If we fail, the consequences will be catastrophic."
Bullseye chuckled from where he leaned against the wall. "You're always so serious, Sable. Lighten up. A little chaos never hurt anyone—well, not me anyway."
She shot him a glare. "This isn't a game, Bullseye. The Hand won't hesitate to destroy everything in their path, and they've got the Orb now. That changes the stakes."
Bullseye shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "Stakes, shmakes. You put 'em in the ground like anyone else. I just hope I get a rematch with that blue elf. Or maybe the card-thrower. Either one works for me."
Bullseye casually spun one of his throwing knives, his grin sharp and full of malice. He relished the opportunity to settle the score with the mutants who'd slipped through his fingers earlier. He hadn't forgotten the interference from Gambit during his last encounter, and the thought of sinking a blade into Nightcrawler's elusive form still made his blood race.
"They've got no idea what's coming," he said, mostly to himself. "All their teamwork and heroics—none of that matters when you're dead. And I've got just the right touch to make that happen."
Sable rolled her eyes but said nothing. Taskmaster, on the other hand, smirked from where he was tinkering with his shield.
"I just hope this payday's worth all the headaches," Taskmaster said, glancing at Bullseye. "You can keep your grudges. Me? I'm here to cash in and walk away."
He adjusted the straps on his armor, his movements meticulous. Taskmaster had seen his fair share of battles, but this one felt different. The mystical aura surrounding The Hand's operations, the presence of the Orb of Yamato, and the sheer unpredictability of their adversaries made him uneasy.
"Still," he added, looking up at Bullseye, "it'll be interesting to see how you fare against a team like this. Don't get yourself killed too early, though—I'll need you as a distraction."
Bullseye laughed, clearly unfazed. "You just keep counting your coins, Taskmaster. I'll do what I do best—kill anyone who gets in my way."
Nyoirin stepped away from the table, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Enough. The time for posturing is over. You all know your roles. This is the moment to cement our control over this city."
He pointed to a marked location on the map. "Matsu'o and The Hand will not expect us to strike here. Their focus is divided, and their confidence in the Orb will make them reckless. Use that to your advantage. Take no prisoners. If you see Psylocke, you will not engage her directly. She is mine."
The three mercenaries exchanged glances but said nothing. Nyoirin's obsession with Psylocke had become more apparent with every passing day, and none of them were eager to question his resolve.
As Nyoirin turned to address the Iron Wolves, Silver Sable spoke up. "This isn't just about territory for you, is it? You want more than control—you want revenge."
Nyoirin's eyes narrowed. "Revenge is a luxury. What I seek is dominance. Matsu'o took something from me, and now, I will take everything from him."
Outside, the Iron Wolves prepared for the assault, their weapons gleaming under the faint glow of streetlights. The atmosphere was tense, the quiet hum of anticipation filling the air.
Silver Sable stepped to the edge of the warehouse, scanning the darkened cityscape. "This feels too quiet," she said softly.
Taskmaster joined her, his shield slung across his back. "Enjoy it while it lasts. It's about to get a lot louder."
Bullseye sauntered past them, his knives gleaming in his hands. "Let's hope so. I've got some unfinished business to take care of."
As the three prepared for the coming battle, Nyoirin emerged, his presence commanding. "It's time," he said simply.
The mercenaries exchanged one final glance before falling into formation. The Iron Wolves roared as they began their march, their war cry echoing through the night.
And so, the final stand began.
The evening air was thick with the oppressive humidity of a New York summer, adding to the tension as Nightcrawler led the group through the industrial outskirts of the city. The faint sounds of distant traffic were drowned out by the echo of their soft footsteps along the rooftops. Below, The Hand's base loomed: a sprawling, fortified structure shrouded in shadows and mysticism.
Nightcrawler paused, crouching low at the edge of the roof to peer down at the scene. "There it is," he whispered. "The Hand's base. This is where they're preparing to enact their plan."
Spider-Man leaned forward, his lenses narrowing. "Looks like they've gone all out. That place is crawling with Hand ninjas. We'll need to be smart about how we—"
A loud roar interrupted his thought. They turned to see an advancing force moving through the streets below: Silver Sable, Bullseye, and Taskmaster, leading the Iron Wolves with precision and force. The mercenaries were cutting a clear path toward the base, their numbers bolstered by an army of armed soldiers.
"Guess we're not the only ones crashing this party," Gambit said, flipping a charged card between his fingers.
"Looks like Nyoirin decided to make his move," Faiza observed, her tone calm despite the sight of the chaos below. "This complicates things."
Wolverine growled, unsheathing his claws with a sharp SNIKT. "Complicated or not, we've gotta make sure this doesn't spiral outta control. We can't let either side walk outta here with the Orb of Yamato."
Nightcrawler nodded, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "Nyoirin's forces will be just as dangerous as The Hand if they get inside. We'll need to split up to deal with both of them."
Wolverine pointed toward the street below where Silver Sable barked orders to her troops. "I'll take her. We've got unfinished business."
Gambit grinned, twirling his bo staff. "Then I'll keep Bullseye busy. He seems like my kinda crazy."
Nightcrawler glanced at Taskmaster, who was surveying the battlefield with his trademark calculated efficiency. "That leaves me with him. I'll make sure he's too preoccupied to get any closer to the Orb."
Spider-Man turned to Psylocke and Faiza. "That leaves the three of us to take on Matsu'o and his merry band of mystical ninjas. No pressure, right?"
Psylocke's expression hardened, her psychic katana igniting in her hand with a purple glow. "We've faced worse. Matsu'o may think he knows me, but he doesn't know what I've become."
Faiza adjusted her grip on Excalibur, the sword gleaming with an otherworldly light. "Let's hope that's enough because this is going to be a fight to remember."
The moment splintered into chaos as the group moved into position. Wolverine leaped down from the rooftop, landing directly in Silver Sable's path. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her pistols.
"Guess you couldn't stay away," she said.
"Didn't wanna disappoint," Wolverine growled, charging at her.
Gambit flipped gracefully from his perch, landing in front of Bullseye, who was already pulling out a set of throwing knives.
"You've got bad aim, mon ami," Gambit said, smirking as he charged his bo staff.
Bullseye's grin was predatory. "Good thing I never miss."
Nightcrawler disappeared in a puff of smoke, teleporting into Taskmaster's path before he could reach the base. Taskmaster raised his shield, already anticipating the attack.
"Cute trick," Taskmaster said. "But I've seen it before."
Nightcrawler's tail flicked as he drew his swords. "Then you'll know I'm not so easy to catch."
Meanwhile, Spider-Man, Psylocke, and Faiza moved toward the entrance of The Hand's base. The ninjas guarding the entrance sprang into action, but Psylocke cut through them with precision, her psychic blade slicing through their defenses like paper.
Spider-Man webbed up two ninjas before flipping onto the wall to dodge a volley of shurikens. "Anyone else feel like we should've brought a bigger team?"
Faiza deflected an attack with Excalibur, the sword glowing brighter with each strike. "I think we'll manage. Just stay focused!"
They pressed forward, the sound of battle growing louder behind them as the two forces clashed. Psylocke led the charge, her newfound balance between Kwannon's skills and her own psychic abilities making her an unstoppable force.
In the distance, Matsu'o watched from the shadows, his lips curling into a sinister smile as he clutched the Orb of Yamato. "Let them come," he murmured. "They will fall before the power of the Orb."
The stage was set for the ultimate confrontation.
The night sky over New York burned with distant flames and the clash of steel, cries of battle reverberating through the air. In the midst of the chaos, Wolverine faced off against Silver Sable, the two locked in a ferocious duel. Her gauntlets deflected his claws with bursts of sparks, her strikes calculated and swift.
"Persistent, aren't ya?" Wolverine growled, lunging with his claws only for Silver Sable to twist out of his reach.
"Someone has to put you down, Logan," she snapped, unleashing a rapid series of kicks that Wolverine barely blocked in time.
Before Wolverine could retort, two members of the Iron Wolves lunged at him from behind, their knives glinting in the light of the burning debris. Without hesitation, Wolverine spun, slicing through their weapons with his claws and sending them sprawling to the ground.
"You're gonna need better backup," he said, turning back to Silver Sable. She didn't answer, instead raising her pistols and firing. Wolverine roared as the bullets struck his shoulder, but his healing factor kept him moving.
Nearby, Gambit and Bullseye danced around one another in a chaotic game of cat and mouse. Bullseye hurled a handful of razor-sharp playing cards, each one aimed with deadly precision. Gambit countered with a charged deck of his own, the resulting explosion lighting up the street like fireworks.
"You think you're somethin', don't you?" Bullseye snarled, pulling out a pair of throwing knives.
"Don't think, mon ami," Gambit replied with a smirk, spinning his bo staff to deflect the projectiles. "I know."
A group of Iron Wolves surged toward Gambit, hoping to take advantage of his distraction. Without missing a beat, Gambit tossed a trio of kinetically charged cards, sending the gang members flying back with a deafening explosion.
Bullseye's grin widened. "Not bad, Cajun. But I'm just gettin' started."
On the rooftop above, Nightcrawler and Taskmaster clashed in a blur of teleportation and precision strikes. Taskmaster's shield deflected Nightcrawler's swords, each clang of metal against metal a testament to the assassin's skill.
"You're quick," Taskmaster admitted, pivoting to block another strike. "But I've seen better."
Nightcrawler vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind Taskmaster and delivering a kick to his back. "Perhaps you should keep looking," he said with a sly grin.
The Iron Wolves weren't far behind, trying to catch Nightcrawler off guard. One managed to swing a chain at him, but Nightcrawler teleported away, the chain tangling Taskmaster's arm instead.
Taskmaster growled, yanking the chain free and glaring at Nightcrawler. "You're more trouble than you're worth."
"And you talk too much," Nightcrawler retorted, disappearing again.
Deeper within The Hand's fortress, Spider-Man, Faiza, and Psylocke pushed forward against a wave of elite ninjas. Psylocke's psychic katana cleaved through their ranks, her movements a deadly blend of grace and precision.
"Keep going!" Psylocke urged, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Matsu'o is close."
Spider-Man vaulted over a group of attackers, webbing two to the wall and disarming a third with a flick of his wrist. "Define 'close,' because this is starting to feel like a bad video game."
Faiza wielded Excalibur with calm determination, each swing of the mystical blade sending her enemies reeling. "Focus, both of you. We can't let them slow us down."
As they approached the central chamber, the air grew thick with an oppressive energy. There, at the heart of the room, stood Matsu'o Tsurayaba. The Orb of Yamato floated before him, pulsing with a sinister glow.
"You're too late," Matsu'o said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "With the Orb, I will reshape The Hand into an unstoppable force—and reclaim what was taken from me."
Psylocke's grip on her katana tightened as a sudden wave of psychic pressure washed over her. She staggered, clutching her head as Kwannon's voice surged within her mind.
"Betsy," Kwannon's voice whispered. "He's trying to take control again."
"No," Psylocke hissed, her eyes glowing faintly with psychic energy. She straightened, her expression hardening. "Not this time."
Matsu'o smirked, the Orb's glow intensifying as he raised his hand. "You think you can resist me? You are still mine, Kwannon. And soon, you will remember your place."
Spider-Man stepped in front of Psylocke, shooting a web at Matsu'o's wrist to disrupt the energy. "Hey, creepy ninja guy! Back off!"
The web disintegrated midair, the energy from the Orb repelling it. Spider-Man tensed. "Okay, that's new."
As The Hand's most powerful warriors closed in, the trio prepared for the fight of their lives, Psylocke's resolve shining brighter than ever as she prepared to confront the shadow of her past once more.
The night sky was alive with the cacophony of battle, the clash of blades and the crack of gunfire echoing through the streets. At the center of the chaos, Wolverine and Silver Sable stood locked in a brutal dance of combat, their movements blurs of precision and raw power.
Wolverine lunged with a feral growl, his claws slashing through the air. Silver Sable sidestepped, her gauntlets deflecting the deadly adamantium strikes with bursts of sparks. She followed up with a quick series of kicks, each one aimed at Wolverine's midsection.
"You don't give up, do ya?" Wolverine snarled, shaking off the blow and swiping at her again.
"Neither do you," Silver Sable replied, her voice cool and unyielding as she ducked under his claws and fired her pistols at point-blank range.
The bullets struck Wolverine, forcing him to stumble back, but his healing factor knitted the wounds almost instantly. He smirked, baring his teeth. "You're gonna run out of ammo before I run outta fight."
A short distance away, Gambit and Bullseye faced off amidst the chaos. Bullseye hurled a barrage of throwing stars, each one aimed with deadly precision. Gambit spun his bo staff to deflect the projectiles, his movements fluid and calculated.
"You're good," Bullseye sneered, reaching for another set of weapons. "But I don't miss."
Gambit smirked, charging a playing card with kinetic energy. "You missed this one, mon ami." He tossed the card, and it exploded at Bullseye's feet, forcing him to leap back.
The two clashed again, Bullseye's daggers against Gambit's staff, the air between them crackling with tension. Finally, Gambit saw his opening—a split-second where Bullseye's stance faltered. With a precise strike of his bo staff, Gambit disarmed him and followed up with a charged card that exploded near Bullseye, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Bullseye groaned, incapacitated. "Lucky shot, Cajun..."
"Gambit don't need luck," Gambit replied, binding Bullseye's hands with a length of rope.
Above them, Nightcrawler was locked in a fierce duel with Taskmaster on a rooftop. Taskmaster's shield clanged against Nightcrawler's twin swords, sparks flying with every strike.
"You're slippery," Taskmaster growled, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
Nightcrawler teleported out of range, appearing behind Taskmaster and landing a kick to his back. "And you are predictable."
Taskmaster stumbled but recovered quickly, countering with a series of rapid strikes. Nightcrawler teleported again, avoiding each blow with precision. Below them, the remaining Iron Wolves began to retreat, realizing the odds were against them.
Nightcrawler saw his opportunity. He teleported above Taskmaster and struck with both feet, sending the mercenary toppling off the rooftop. Taskmaster landed hard on the ground below, groaning as he struggled to move. He landed next to Bullseye, who was already incapacitated.
Silver Sable glanced around, noting the retreat of the Iron Wolves and the defeat of Bullseye and Taskmaster. Her gaze locked with Wolverine's, and for a moment, they both paused, breathing heavily from their fight.
"This isn't over, Wolverine," she said, stepping back slowly.
"Next time, bring somethin' sharper," Wolverine replied, his claws glinting in the dim light.
Silver Sable used a smoke grenade to obscure her retreat, vanishing into the shadows. Wolverine growled but didn't pursue, knowing the battle was already tipping in their favor.
Inside the fortress, Spider-Man and Faiza fought side by side against the elite ninjas of The Hand. Spider-Man's webs disarmed and incapacitated their enemies, while Faiza wielded Excalibur with skill and precision, her mystical blade cleaving through The Hand's warriors.
"Nice teamwork!" Spider-Man quipped, flipping over an opponent and webbing him to the wall.
"Just focus, Peter!" Faiza called back, cutting down another ninja.
Nearby, Psylocke stood in a circle of fallen Hand warriors, her psychic katana glowing with intensity. She felt the familiar presence of Matsu'o's psychic influence pressing against her mind, a cold and invasive force.
"You cannot resist me, Kwannon," Matsu'o's voice echoed in her thoughts. "You are mine."
Betsy clenched her fists, her psychic energy flaring brighter. "I am not Kwannon. I am Psylocke."
With a surge of determination, she shattered Matsu'o's influence, her mind clearing as her autonomy solidified. Her katana blazed with renewed strength, and she prepared herself for the battle ahead, her conviction unshaken.
The group regrouped, standing together as the battle outside began to quiet. The final confrontation with Matsu'o and The Hand loomed, the stakes higher than ever.
Wolverine, Gambit, and Nightcrawler moved swiftly through the dimly lit alleys. The air was heavy with tension, the faint echoes of battle distant but unrelenting.
Nyoirin darted through the narrow streets, his silhouette sharp against the flickering neon signs. His usually composed demeanor was fraying, sweat glistening on his brow as he clutched a small case that he refused to let go.
"Don't let him get away!" Wolverine growled, his claws gleaming as he broke into a sprint.
"You think I'm lettin' him slip, cher?" Gambit quipped, charging a card and tossing it ahead. The explosion sent Nyoirin stumbling but didn't slow him for long.
Nightcrawler leaped onto a fire escape, teleporting ahead of their quarry and cutting off his path. He reappeared in a burst of sulfurous smoke, his golden eyes glowing. "You cannot run forever, mein Freund," he said, his voice calm yet menacing.
Nyoirin skidded to a halt, his gaze darting between the three mutants. "You think you've won?" he sneered.
"You've been causin' enough trouble, homme," Gambit replied, spinning his bo staff. "We ain't lettin' you make it worse."
Wolverine stepped forward, claws unsheathed and glinting under the streetlights. "You've got two choices, bub: surrender, or I take that case outta your cold, dead hands."
Nyoirin snarled, pulling out a compact firearm and firing wildly. The mutants dodged effortlessly, the bullets ricocheting off walls and trash cans.
Nightcrawler vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind Nyoirin and grabbing the gun from his hand. "Such violence will not save you," he said, tossing the weapon aside.
Nyoirin's free hand lashed out with a concealed blade, but Gambit intercepted with a kinetically charged card that exploded between them. The shockwave sent Nyoirin sprawling, the case tumbling from his grasp.
Wolverine loomed over him, claws raised. "Last chance."
"Wait!" Nyoirin gasped, raising his hands in surrender. "You don't understand! Matsu'o…he'll kill us all if you don't stop him!"
"He's not wrong," Nightcrawler agreed. "But that does not absolve him of his own crimes."
Wolverine grunted, lowering his claws slightly. "You're comin' with us."
Before Nyoirin could protest, Wolverine grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet. Gambit retrieved the case, inspecting it briefly before tucking it under his arm.
The chamber pulsed with a sinister red glow, the Orb of Yamato floating at the center like a malevolent heart. Matsu'o Tsurayaba stood tall, his gaze cold and unyielding as he commanded the dark energy around him. Spider-Man and Psylocke circled cautiously, their every move calculated as they searched for an opening.
Before either could strike, Faiza Hussain stepped forward, Excalibur gleaming in her hands.
"Enough, Matsu'o!" Faiza's voice rang out, firm and unwavering. "You've caused enough destruction. Surrender now!"
Matsu'o sneered, his grip on the Orb tightening. "You think a mortal with a sword can challenge me? Stand aside, or be swept away like the rest."
Faiza held her ground, her heart pounding but her resolve unshaken. "You've underestimated mortals before. I won't let you harm anyone else."
With a roar, Matsu'o unleashed a wave of dark energy, forcing Faiza to raise Excalibur in defense. The sword's mystic light clashed against the dark aura, creating a shockwave that reverberated through the room. The distraction gave Spider-Man and Psylocke the chance to strike.
Spider-Man leapt into action, webbing one of Matsu'o's arms while Psylocke closed the distance, her psychic katana flaring to life. Matsu'o twisted free, his movements almost supernatural as he deflected their combined assault with a mix of speed and raw power.
"You are nothing against the might of The Hand," Matsu'o spat, his voice dripping with contempt.
"We've heard that one before," Spider-Man quipped, dodging a strike and firing another web to try to immobilize Matsu'o.
Psylocke stayed silent, her focus razor-sharp as she pushed her new fighting style to its limits. Her movements blended the precision of Kwannon's ninja training with the fluidity of her psychic abilities. Each strike of her katana was enhanced by her telekinesis, creating a deadly combination that kept Matsu'o on edge.
Still, Matsu'o held his own, countering their every move with a ruthless efficiency that spoke to his mastery of combat. With a sweep of his arm, he sent Spider-Man crashing into a nearby wall, leaving him momentarily stunned.
Matsu'o seized the opportunity, driving Psylocke back with a flurry of strikes. She deflected them, but the force of his assault made it clear he wasn't holding back.
From behind, Faiza saw her chance. She raised Excalibur high, channeling its light toward the Orb. With a burst of determination, she drove the blade downward, shattering the enchantment that bound The Hand to its dark influence. The room seemed to tremble as the Orb's glow dimmed, and the oppressive energy that had filled the air began to dissipate.
"No!" Matsu'o roared, his grip on the Orb faltering.
Psylocke saw her moment. Summoning every ounce of strength and precision she had, she lunged forward, her katana slicing through the air. The blade connected with Matsu'o's weapon, disarming him with a powerful strike. Matsu'o staggered, his eyes widening in shock as Psylocke stood over him, her katana poised for a final blow.
"It's over," Psylocke said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.
Spider-Man pulled himself to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "Remind me not to get on your bad side," he muttered, joining her side.
As Matsu'o tried to regain his footing, Faiza stepped forward, her sword glowing with the power of Excalibur. "Your reign ends here, Matsu'o. Surrender, or face the consequences."
The three heroes stood united, their resolve unwavering as they prepared for the final act of their battle against The Hand.
Author's Note: Hello everyone, I hope you're enjoying the climax now that Betsy has a full hold of power and alongside Faiza and Spider-Man will have a fight unlike many others. On top of that, Nyoirin's mercenaries have been handled with the exception of one managing to get away.
I would like to thank Musiclover64 for the continued interest, I'll do my best to incorporate as many ideas as possible. I hope you at least enjoy the story and everything that is to come. I enjoy having as much support as possible.
I'm thankful for the continued reviews and I'll definitely do my best to add in as much story as I can. For everything that happens in the future, you'll just have to wait and see what the climax is when we get there. I hope you all look forward to seeing it.