July 24, 2009
Psylocke stood at the edge of the rooftop, her purple hair swirling in the wind, her mind focused, preparing herself for the confrontation ahead. Below her, the heart of Central Park was a maze of people, chaos, and confusion. The psychic energy surged around her like a storm, a force she could feel in her bones, thrumming with raw power. It was all originating from one person: Astralis.
Peter had been a great help so far, but she couldn't afford to bring him into this fight. Not this one. Not with someone as dangerous as Astralis. She'd taught him how to handle psychic attacks, yes, but there were limits to what even his quick mind and adaptability could withstand. Astralis was more than just a threat—he was a potential nightmare for someone like Peter. Psylocke's fingers curled into fists, and she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. She had to do this on her own.
He's too valuable, she thought, her chest tightening. If he gets caught in this, I might lose him. I won't let that happen.
With a sharp exhale, Psylocke leapt into the air, her psychic katana manifesting in a flash of violet light. Her mind sharpened, reaching out to connect with the currents of power running through the city. She could feel Astralis' presence, like an immense pulse of psychic energy beneath the surface, waiting. It was almost as if the city itself was vibrating in rhythm with his thoughts, a discordant hum that made her teeth ache.
She landed in the middle of the park with barely a sound, her mind already braced for the mental battle to come. Astralis stood in the center of the clearing, his arms spread wide as if embracing the chaos around him. He was an imposing figure—his aura was larger than life, his psychic power radiating outwards, distorting the air in shimmering waves. His eyes glowed a faint, unnatural white, his expression serene as if he were a god surveying his domain.
"You've come," Astralis said, his voice rich with a calm, unsettling confidence. "I was wondering when you'd finally catch up."
Psylocke didn't waste time with words. She lunged forward, her psychic blade slashing through the air. Astralis merely tilted his head, and the air around him shimmered, a barrier of psychic force suddenly forming in front of him. Psylocke's sword collided with it, sending a shockwave through her body as the impact reverberated in her mind. The barrier held firm, its surface rippling like water, a reflection of the strength of the psychic storm that was contained within.
"You'll have to do better than that," Astralis taunted, his lips curling into a smile.
Psylocke took a step back, concentrating, her mind reaching for the psychic energy swirling in the air around them. She could feel it—Astralis was controlling it, weaving the fabric of this reality to his will. His power was immense, but Psylocke had been trained for this moment. She didn't hesitate. Reaching deep within herself, she focused her will, pushing through the mental resistance and allowing herself to become one with the energy around her. Her katana shimmered with violet light again, sharper this time, ready to cut through whatever Astralis threw at her.
But as she advanced again, Astralis merely raised his hand, and a new wave of psychic force slammed into her, sending her skidding backward across the ground. The impact rattled her, a sudden burst of dizziness clouding her thoughts.
"You think you can fight me?" Astralis said with amusement. "I'm a conduit to something far greater than your petty weapons and abilities. You can't defeat me."
Psylocke gritted her teeth, forcing herself back onto her feet. She couldn't let his words get to her. She had trained for this. She could defeat him.
But as she gathered her strength for another strike, she couldn't help but feel the weight of his words, the sense that she was facing something far beyond anything she had prepared for. Astralis wasn't just manipulating psychic energy—he was becoming it. His mind had become a part of the city itself, a piece of the collective consciousness, vast and limitless. Psylocke's grip on her sword tightened, and she leapt into the air, intent on cutting through his defenses before he could react.
But he anticipated her move.
With a flick of his wrist, Astralis released a pulse of psychic force that threw Psylocke off course mid-air. She barely managed to steady herself, landing on a nearby rooftop with a thud. She winced, the sharp pain in her ribs reminding her how little time she had before Astralis fully unleashed his power.
Meanwhile, far above the city, Spider-Man swung from one building to the next, eyes darting over the scene as he searched for Psylocke. She hadn't responded to his mental check-ins since their last communication. The situation was escalating, and he had a bad feeling.
He'd taken care of the mind-controlled citizens—well, most of them, at least. With a series of well-timed webs, he'd wrapped up the worst of them, pulling them into safer areas and neutralizing their threat. Now, though, the real challenge was figuring out where Psylocke had gone. She'd said she would handle Astralis, but this felt different. Even Spider-Man could sense the psychic energy pulsing from the center of the chaos. There was no doubt about it: this was no ordinary villain.
"Psylocke!" Peter called out into the open air, hoping she could hear him. His fingers itched, ready to launch another web to help if she needed it.
And then, in a flash, he spotted her. She was on a rooftop nearby, her psychic katana glowing fiercely in the dark. She was holding her own, but he could tell something was wrong—she was struggling.
Peter didn't hesitate. He launched himself toward her, webs flying as he cut across the skyline. As he got closer, he could feel the pressure of the psychic storm surrounding them both. Whatever was going on here, it was bigger than either of them had anticipated.
He landed beside her, offering her a nod. "Need a hand?"
Psylocke didn't even look at him, her focus still trained on Astralis. "Stay alert, Spider-Man. He's unlike anyone we've faced before. But—" She faltered for a moment, her eyes flashing with determination. "Together, we'll stop him."
With that, she charged once more, her katana flashing. Spider-Man followed, every instinct telling him that this battle was far from over.
The city skyline was bathed in afternoon sun, but the heart of the chaos was below, where Astralis stood as a beacon of psychic power. He was a towering presence, his form surrounded by an ethereal, shimmering aura that distorted the air. Psylocke and Spider-Man were engaged in a fierce dance of combat, each of them relentless in their efforts to bring him down. But despite their combined efforts, Astralis proved to be a formidable opponent.
Psylocke slashed at him with her psychic katana, a blur of violet energy, but Astralis simply smirked, sidestepping with ease. His mind stretched out, a vast network of power that seemed to be everywhere at once, pushing against them. He barely needed to move his hands; his psychic force acted like a shield, deflecting her blows before they could even connect.
Spider-Man, ever quick on his feet, swung into the fray, his webs flying to bind Astralis' arms, hoping to trap him. But Astralis merely flicked his wrist, and the webs disintegrated into nothingness, as if they were mere distractions. With a single motion, he sent Spider-Man hurtling backward, crashing into a nearby building with enough force to crack the concrete.
"Damn it," Peter muttered to himself as he pushed himself off the debris, wincing from the pain. He could feel the mental strain, the weight of the psychic power in the air. This guy is a real piece of work...
Psylocke wasn't far behind, her next attack a concentrated psychic blast aimed directly at Astralis' chest. For a moment, it looked like it would land. But Astralis simply absorbed the attack, his body becoming a glowing silhouette, as though the psychic energy passed through him without harming him at all. He raised his hands, and in an instant, the air around Psylocke twisted violently.
Before she could react, Astralis' psychic grip slammed down on her, lifting her off the ground, and throwing her backward with incredible force. She crashed against a nearby rooftop, the impact causing her to cry out in pain. Peter watched, horrified, as she collapsed in a heap.
"No!" he shouted, pushing himself to his feet. His heart hammered in his chest, the overwhelming need to get to her pushing him into action. "Psylocke!"
Astralis turned toward Peter, a grin spreading across his face. "You think you can save her? She's already lost, Spider-Man. Both of you are beneath me."
With a sudden surge of psychic energy, Astralis sent a wave of force through the ground, splitting the pavement beneath Peter's feet and knocking him off balance. The world around him tilted, and his webbing fell uselessly to the ground.
But Spider-Man didn't hesitate. He shot a web towards Psylocke, who was just beginning to stir, and yanked her to safety. He held her close, her limp form against his chest, his heart racing in his chest.
"I've got you," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I won't let him hurt you."
Astralis took a step forward, his eyes glowing bright with psychic energy. "You can't save her. No one can. The time for your defiance is over."
Peter's thoughts were spinning. He was no longer sure of what was going on. The attack on Psylocke had left him rattled—she was supposed to be the one leading the charge against this guy, but now, she was the one on the ground, injured. The way she had acted earlier, the way she insisted on handling Astralis alone... it didn't make sense. She had seemed so confident in her plan, but now, it felt like they had walked into something much larger than either of them anticipated.
His doubts only lasted a moment before his instincts kicked in. He had to act, and fast. He launched himself toward Astralis, aiming to web him up again, but the psychic energy around the villain intensified, slamming Spider-Man into the ground and pinning him there, unable to move.
Astralis turned away from him, sensing the disturbance. My recruits... He had sensed them, the ones Spider-Man had captured earlier, still trapped in his webbing. With a mere thought, he sent a wave of energy toward them, releasing them from their bonds. The thralls, once under his control, began to rise from their prone positions, their minds freed from Spider-Man's hold.
"I won't allow you to cage them," Astralis muttered, his voice low and threatening. "This city is mine to shape."
As Astralis started to retreat, Spider-Man struggled against the psychic pressure. But Psylocke, recovering slowly, pushed herself upright, wiping the blood from her lip. Her mind cleared, and she took in the situation—Astralis was on the move again, and her priority was still the same. Stop him.
With a burst of effort, she pushed herself forward, using her remaining strength to get to her feet and regroup. "Peter, we need to stop him," she said, her voice steady, despite the obvious strain in her body.
Peter nodded, his voice tight with anger and frustration. "I know. But something's off here, Betsy. Your plan—this plan—it's not what I thought it was."
Psylocke's eyes softened, as if realizing the toll everything was taking on him. "We'll get him, Peter. We can't stop now. Trust me."
Peter looked into the distance where Astralis made his escape. The battle wasn't over. But in the back of his mind, he knew that something had shifted. He couldn't shake the feeling that Psylocke hadn't been completely upfront with him. And that, more than anything, left a gnawing doubt in his stomach as they prepared for the fight to come.
The streets of New York were eerily quiet after the battle. The crackling energy of Astralis' psychic power still lingered in the air like an aftershock, but the chaos had settled into an uneasy calm. Spider-Man and Psylocke stood at the edge of a rooftop, both staring out into the city below, searching for any sign of Astralis—who had slipped away into the night like a shadow.
Peter's head pounded from the residual psychic energy still swirling around him. Every time he tried to focus, he could feel the weight of the attack on his mind. Psylocke was visibly exhausted as well, her expression hardening with each passing minute, as if she could feel the ticking clock in the back of her mind, the urgency to find Astralis before he could strike again.
"They're reporting on the news that the hospitals are overwhelmed," Peter said, his voice tight with frustration. "The whole city's affected, not just the ones in comas. The aftermath is worse than we realized. The damage... It's spreading."
Psylocke didn't respond immediately, her eyes scanning the horizon, her senses still trying to track the psychic trail left behind by Astralis. There was something unsettling about the way he had slipped away, and the last thing she wanted was for him to strike again. But this wasn't just about the city anymore—it was about Peter, too.
"I can't feel him anymore," she said, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking louder might disturb the fragile calm. "He's gone. But it doesn't feel right. He was playing us... I should have known."
Peter turned to her, his mask half-raised, his eyes sharp with concern. "What are you thinking? We can track him together—"
"No," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I need to do this alone."
Peter blinked, confused. "What do you mean alone? We need to stick together on this. You're not going after him by yourself, Betsy."
She turned to him then, her eyes soft but intense. "Peter, you don't understand. Astralis... He's unlike anything you've faced before. And I don't want you to become a target. He's already shown how powerful he is, and you could be in danger. I can handle this. I have to."
Peter's chest tightened as he felt a wave of frustration surge through him. "You've been saying that all along! I can handle myself, Betsy. This isn't just about you anymore—it's about both of us. We've been working together this whole time, and now you want to do this alone? You can't just shut me out like that."
Betsy took a step back, visibly hurt, though she tried to hide it behind a steely resolve. "I'm not shutting you out, Peter. I'm trying to protect you. I can't risk you being exposed to more psychic attacks. I've been trained to fight in a way you haven't. You don't know what Astralis is capable of. And if something happens to you, I—" She cut herself off, her voice faltering for the briefest of moments, before she composed herself again. "I can't lose you to this."
Peter's eyes softened for a moment, the sharpness of his anger ebbing away. But it wasn't enough to quell the rising tide of frustration he felt. "And I can't lose you either. But we're supposed to be a team, Betsy. You can't just walk into this alone without telling me why. What's going on? Why do you keep pushing me away every time things get tough?"
Her gaze faltered for a moment, and the weight of her words seemed to settle in the air between them. "I'm doing this for us, Peter. Because I care about you." Her voice wavered. "You're the one thing in my life that makes sense, but I can't let myself become distracted by you. This is bigger than us."
Peter shook his head, his mask fully lifted now, his face set in a mixture of frustration and confusion. "No, you're wrong. We're already in this together. Whatever happens next, we face it as a team. We get to decide what that means."
For a long moment, they stood in silence, the distance between them growing with every unsaid word, every unspoken fear. Psylocke turned her gaze back to the city, the weight of their disagreement pulling on her like a physical force. The truth was, she was scared—not just of Astralis, but of the growing feelings she had for Peter, the vulnerability he represented in a world that had always demanded she stay emotionally distant. She had spent so long pushing people away, trying to protect herself from pain, that the thought of letting someone in—especially Peter—was terrifying.
Peter stood there, his heart heavy. His mind flashed with the image of Betsy, strong and independent, but also vulnerable in ways she wouldn't admit. She had her reasons for wanting to keep him safe, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less sincere. "I'm not going anywhere, Betsy. I'm not going to leave you to do this alone. But if you can't accept that, then maybe we need to take a step back and rethink how we're handling this. I don't know what you're afraid of, but I'm here. And I always will be."
Betsy's expression softened, her heart twisting with regret. "I know you are. And I'm sorry. I don't want to push you away. I just—"
"Don't," he interrupted gently, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You don't have to apologize. Just... trust me. Whatever happens, we're in this together."
She looked up at him, their eyes meeting for the first time in the middle of the storm. Despite everything that had just been said, despite the sharp tension, there was a quiet understanding between them. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't easy, but it was theirs.
Psylocke finally nodded, her resolve softening. "Alright. But we need to track Astralis. Together."
Spider-Man smiled faintly, the tension easing a little. "Together."
The city, still haunted by the aftermath of Astralis' attack, loomed before them. The night wasn't over, and the fight wasn't won. But as long as they stood side by side, Peter knew they could face whatever came next.
And Psylocke, though still uncertain, found herself holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could face it together.
July 26, 2009
Two days had passed since the explosive battle with Astralis, and the streets of New York City had started to calm. The chaos had ebbed, but the fear remained. Spider-Man and Psylocke had spent the last two days investigating the aftermath—each of them working in their own way, trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle left in the wake of Astralis's psychic assault.
Spider-Man swung between the shadows of towering buildings, his eyes scanning the streets below as he mentally reviewed the clues they had gathered. Despite the calm, there was an unsettling tension in the air. Something big was still happening, and it wasn't over yet.
He landed silently on a rooftop, crouching low as he tapped his phone. He'd followed a trail of unusual tech traces connected to the coma cases—victims who had fallen unconscious without explanation, their minds seemingly severed from reality. Something about it felt too clean, too deliberate, for this to just be a side effect of Astralis's attack.
Peter scanned through his notes. The tech wasn't just some random experiment—it was experimental equipment designed to amplify psychic energy. Something that would enhance and focus Astralis's already considerable power.
"There's always something more, isn't there?" he muttered under his breath, his fingers flying over his phone as he pieced together data. He cross-referenced several reports of missing persons and comas with the location of a private research facility, one that had received some heavy government funding for "psychic research." No wonder it had flown under the radar. This wasn't just an attack—it was coordinated.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen, seeing a familiar face: Mary Jane Watson. She was live on a broadcast, standing in front of a local news outlet as she addressed the growing crisis. Peter watched, his heart in his throat. Her words, though clear and confident, were laced with the weight of the devastation.
"Good evening, New York," Mary Jane's voice came through the speakers. "As of this afternoon, over a hundred individuals have been reported in critical condition after an unprecedented wave of psychic-induced comas. Several more have gone missing. In a rare turn, local authorities are reporting a minimal number of injuries thanks to Spider-Man's quick actions in the city." Her eyes briefly flickered to the camera. "While we continue to investigate the cause, experts believe the attacks may be linked to an outside force. More details will be provided as they emerge."
Peter leaned back, letting out a long breath. Despite the danger, despite the chaos, Mary Jane was still out there reporting the truth. He couldn't help but smile—there was something inherently brave about her, always willing to face down fear and tell the world what needed to be said.
His mood darkened, however, when he saw her pause, then continue, her voice lower and more somber. "Authorities have also warned that tensions in Europe are escalating. The latest reports suggest that France is nearing a breaking point. With threats of retaliation from neighboring countries, some sources are indicating that France may resort to extreme measures, including nuclear options. For more on this, we turn to our political analyst."
Peter's eyes narrowed. The timing was too coincidental. The global political scene was shifting, and it seemed more than likely that Mister Sinister was playing a part in this. It wasn't just about the psychic attacks in New York—it was much larger than that.
Meanwhile, in the streets below, Psylocke was deep in her own investigation. Her senses were heightened as she carefully walked through an alleyway, her mind reaching out to connect with the ebb and flow of psychic energy in the city. She could feel the invisible threads of influence, the psychic pulse that was spreading like a disease. It wasn't Astralis; it was something else, something subtler.
She closed her eyes, trying to focus. She knew what she was looking for: the telltale signs of psychic manipulation. And there it was. She felt the faint traces of control, of influence threading through the minds of unsuspecting citizens. It wasn't immediate, but the effects were slowly spreading, like a virus infecting the minds of those around her. She could feel the chill of it, the quiet whispers coaxing them to obedience.
As Psylocke followed the trail, her mind stretched further, reaching out to make sense of it all. It was clear that the attack wasn't over—it was evolving. She could feel the psychic web expanding, ensnaring more people with each passing minute. But who was behind it?
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it briefly, catching sight of the news broadcast that Peter had seen.
The same story about France. The same troubling escalation in Europe.
Psylocke's blood ran cold. There was something sinister behind it, something she couldn't quite place, but she knew it was tied to Mister Sinister. His fingerprints were all over this. He had orchestrated something far greater than just the chaos in New York.
And now, it seemed he was aiming to destabilize the entire globe. Europe was only the beginning. Psylocke had been hoping to find answers, but now, everything felt even more complicated.
"I need to stop this before it spreads further," she muttered to herself, the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders. She could feel the strain of the psychic influences becoming stronger by the second, more people falling under the sway of this unknown power.
She shook her head, pushing aside the growing doubt. It wasn't enough just to stop Astralis. This was something bigger. And she couldn't do it alone. Not this time.
Psylocke reached out again to Peter's mind, sending him a quick thought. We need to talk.
She waited for his response, hoping he was ready for the challenge ahead, because if they were going to face down whatever Mister Sinister had planned, they would need to work together.