** Within a Junkyard, Outskirts of NYC, USA **

The Moon is high in the sky, silver light engulfing the planes. Footsteps tap on the ground, as two assassins, the light shattering as it rebounds off the scrap metal of the excrement contained by the small junkyard.

She approaches, her body flowing like a wave, her limbs lashing like a whip, a flicker, steel blades sliding out of her armguard, gleaming with malice at her intended target, thirsty for blood. She unleashes her fist, the metallic knives approaching her foe’s body.

Jason grins, as he turns his body to the left, taking a small step while sending a hook punch of his own, hoping to hear the delicious sound of knuckle hitting against bone and flesh.

The Cyborg finds himself disappointed, his fist meets her armguard, the gleaming layer of metallic alloy, steel or titanium he presumes, shatters his plans. His eyes narrow some, tongue licking the inner side of his teeth, jaw clenching some.

The Spanish viper smirks under her mask, shifting quickly, kicking off the ground, in a heartbeat striking hard, sighing inaudibly in exhilaration as he heel connects with the man’s jaw, his face snapping sideways.

The Spaniard forgets one thing, this was no ordinary man; he turns his face back to her, eyes showing amusement as the lock upon her, a grin on his lips as she lands a foot before him. Before she can think twice he retaliates with perverse glee, pain washes over her, the world spins, his fist connects, she’s flying, defying gravity.

She lands with a thud, rolling once or twice until her momentum is spent and she lays still. She hears him dashing toward her, the footsteps closing in on her, that can’t be good; she quickly pushes herself off the ground and into a crouching stance, pushing the air out of her lungs sharply.

His teeth grit and muscles tense, taking half a step, planting his foot hard against the ground, giving himself good balance before sending his foot forth, speed and force sufficient to give her a second taste of gravity defiance.

She grunts, launching herself like a rocket, somersaulting over the mechanical menace. She plants her hands on his shoulders while bringing both knees to her body. Jason turns sharply, trying to defend himself, quite a feat it could’ve been, impressive by all means, but fate dictates otherwise.

A shattering sound, shards of plastic scattering as Jason takes two steps back, head whipping back. His sunglasses, or better yet, what’s left of them, are left broken on the floor, a new gleam joins the moon, the blood red light of Jason’s eyes.

The cybernetic menace throws a kick, one that promptly pushes Vibora back, needing his distance. She exhales hard; once again reminded just how much power this foe holds behind his blows. Like a locomotive, he thunders toward her, his fist clocking her cheek.

She is sent several steps back, thankful for the mask, though a nice dent is left on it’s side. She shakes her head, a dull pain beginning to intensity, hearing him approaching she prepares herself.

Jason strikes, his foot shooting high, hoping to hit her head, to knock her around enough until she gains a nice little concussion; Vibora however, is ready this time.

She ducks some and hits his foot with her own, sending it too high, making Jason lose his balance, then she steps forth, carnivorous instinct, lethal precision.

Jason reacts just in time and saves himself from much more compromising repercussions. Steel meets flesh, one aims high, the other to the center of his chest; She almost killed him, he quickly realizes and that alarms him some as her claws taste his flesh and blood.

The bottom line is less critical that he expected, her attack leaving faint marks on his body, one leaving the left on his chest, the right marking his cheek, just for the sake of the insult, then she then takes a quick back flip to gain distance, and just in time, Jason’s angry retaliation missing by inches.

The nerve of that woman, she had struck him, Jason, his lifeblood now drizzling down his body and face. He grimaces some; pain burning at his cheek and upper body, her claws had nicked his skin, cleaving it easily.

He can feel the blood and coolant liquids drizzle down his cheek and soaking his shirt slowly, it beginning to cling to his body. The abrasion on his cheek and mark on his chest pale near the bleeding wound in his ego and pride for Vibora has accomplished a symbolic edge over the Cyborg, first blood.

"That..is gonna cost her..." is what runs through Jason’s psyche, head bowed down, looking at the ground as his eyes narrow and the gleam is quite malicious. His stance stiffens some, teeth gritting, lips twisting to a dark and morbid grin as he wipes the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand quickly.

His body tenses some, facial features hardening, exhaling slowly, no more games, she would feel his wrath unchecked. His eyes flicker in purple once before returning to their original red, a surge of power expanding from the center of his chest and outward, charging up his body, his heartbeat accelerating and blood pumping through his veins.

He is invincible, he is a receptacle of power unchecked, and he will give a free rein to his wrath upon this wench, now. Velocity, power, speed, finesse, his footsteps echoing into the night as his steel cold sneer burns into Vibora’s soul, realization daunting her, she’s gonna need a stockpile of pain killers when this job is done.

She puts the thought to rest and dashes toward him, wanting to stop his attack the second she senses the power building within his body, but her reaction, is simply too late. Elevation, rotation, power, his foot whips toward her, his body airborne, his intent murderous, his blow precise, escape was futile, her time would come, Jason would see to that.

Leather collides with steel, momentum forces itself upon flesh and muscle, Vibora is not strong enough, her body is propelled forcefully off the ground, defying gravity, accumulating inertia, Jason lands on his feet, chuckling lowly, TKO.

She braces herself, eyes shutting, teeth gritting, tensing her muscles, and feeling the air hit her face, her body approaching an old wrecked car with distressing speed. In the back of her mind, pain jolts to life, liquid fire, menacing prickles and temporary numbness as contact is initiated, flares of pain drowning her under the waves of agonizing, if momentary torture.

Vibora groans, eyes opening slowly, that was not very pleasant to say at least, she grits her teeth, looking up and seeing a nice little impression on the car’s side, how in god’s name did he manage to put so much power behind the blow she wonders.

Despite the pain, Vibora was no pencil pusher, she’s tasted pain before, and has learned to stomach it, she rolls to her feet, wincing immediately as pain shoots through her front, where his foot made a nice doormat out of her; now that would surely leave a mark.

Before she can think twice, Jason is upon her, his fists thirsting for blood. Like a true serpent, she is slippery and agile, this time dodging his blows thoroughly, his fists whistling past her dangerously close, but ultimately only beating the air.

Jason is not a rookie however, quite soundly covering himself as they exchange blow, her claws being deflected and missing as well, the two seem quite skilled in their arts, and currently are at stalemate. Jason is beginning to get impatient; she was wasting his time.

He attempts to grab her, if he would manage to lock his fingers over her slender neck, he would snap it like a twig, feel the bone shatter, hear the gratifying sound of bone digging into flesh, of her lifeforce waning away slowly like a fish thrown out of the water, struggling in vainly while facing its demise.

Vibora grins under her mask, "bingo" she mutters apprehends his eager hands, her wrists swatting his aside, then quickly grabbing him and dealing him a quite painful combination of blows, leaping up some, ramming her knee hard into his groin, while slamming her metal mask into his nose with bone crunching force.

Jason reels back hard, falling to his knees after taking a few steps back, his breathing picks up, becoming cut off and irate, wishing the pain away as he pants hard, eyes narrowing hard, dazed, pained and disoriented as he shakes his head slightly.

Vibora is about to pursue Jason further, to clobber him till he’s nothing more but a bloody pulp of flesh and steel. However as she takes a step forth her foot bumps into something, she pauses and looks down. "Ah...Now THIS...this...I can put to good use..." she thinks and crouches to the ground as a gleam of metal attracts her attention.

A soft snigger escapes her throat, rolling and as smooth as silk as she picks up a long tube of steel, previously part of someone’s plumbing, grip closing on it, then turning back toward Jason, her lips slanting into an evil grin.

** Simultaneously, Private Office, Secret Interpol underground bunker complex, somewhere in the Northern part of California**

Chunli Xiang is still unable to comprehend the magnitude and meaning of what she’s just heard on the phone, her grip on the receiver loosens some, it almost slipping from her hand, shock written all over her face.

She is wearing a pair of long mocha brown pants and a pale green shirt. Her hair is braided into her trademark two buns, the smooth waves of brown, flawlessly and gracefully combed. The Femme’s face had been treated with just a cinch makeup, to cover the puffy bags under her eyes and lack of sleep she had gone through the last couple of days.

She was working hard to show she was stable, and ok, otherwise, her superiors might take her off the case, deeming her to close to the subject, and Chunli didn’t want that to happen, not one bit, this was her case.

“Send it to me” she says hurriedly and hangs the phone, blinking several times, earning herself a perplexed look from her new partner Lu Fei Han, sent to learn about the case from her, to back her up and get acquainted with the details, until Chunli left for her Pregnancy leave in several months.

He is a young Thai man, with a mediocre athletic build, small brown eyes and spiky black hair that covered sharp almost hawkish features that gave him a noble look. He sits there, wearing black trousers and a red shirt, arms crossed, eyeing her curiously, the young agent waiting for her to explain.

The Chinese Detective licks her lower lip once and a grin creeps to her face as she turns to him slowly, sitting lightly on the desk, “We know who he is” she says simply, looking relieved and eager. Lu Fei smiles as well “So the mystery man’s identity is finally revealed.

Chunli gets up and nods “We have a meeting with the informant in a while,” she muses non-chalantly while sighing softly, the light in her eyes fading some, true she had the first piece of the puzzle, but it just didn’t seem satisfying now.

Once upon a time, such a piece of news would have invigorated her, sent her into a spree of plans and enthusiasm at getting one step closer to her quarry. However, Chunli Xiang was not the same woman she used to be; only several weeks ago, she was ready to mull over retiring from the force and settling down at long last with her heart’s choice.

Then, it was taken away from her, stolen callously by a pitiless fate and malevolent force of evil. Her nightmare began with the losing of her dear friend Guile, murdered by a psychotic murderer, then passed on to the assassination of her investigations partner by agents of Shadowlaw when he exposed a drug ring linked to the Yakuza in Osaka.

She should’ve been happy now, smiling and laughing at the prospect of finding out she was pregnant with the child that is now slowly growing in her womb, hugging and kissing its father and making plans for the future.

Alas, things turned out differently; after countless years of wait, days and nights of uncertainty and wanting, Ryu, her sweet poor Ryu had revealed what she always suspected he feels, and that was the happiest day of her life, a chapter in her life none other could equal.

She bites her lower lip and stands up, “I’m gonna go catch a cup of coffee, I’ll see you later, ok?” she says, with a small smile, albeit it being fake, it is convincing enough. Lu Fei Han nods and excuses himself. He doesn’t know Chunli; he couldn’t possibly understand what she’s going through or understand what her behavior reflects truly.

Chunli Xiang is so strong and determined on the outside; however, that is only a façade, a mask hiding the true face of her soul. The Chinese Femme is like a flint under the blacksmith’s hammer; black and cold on the outside, however searing on within, such is her psyche.

A smoldering mass of pain, acrimony and rage writhing in agony, drowning in a sea of sorrow, freezing in the stinging arctic effects of pure, irrepressible hatred . And yet, despite the turmoil and negative emotions that dominate her ethereal body, no sense of vengeance, no triumph, no annihilation of the fiend would be able to soothe away the woe and emptiness she feels within.

The Strongest Woman in the world remains in her office for a while, deciding against the coffee, not up to dealing with the fake pity, “friendly” pats meant to show their regret and the ever-infernal supposed truthful condolences, she knew better. No friend she had, apart from Guile and Cammy had ever been able to recognize what she saw in Ryu.

She then wipes some small tears that unconsciously fall every time she unravels the foundations of her pain and emotional agony, shutting her eyes and collecting herself. She had to be strong, for Ryu, whose inner fire is forever extinguished, and for her child whose life has not yet begin, he’s going to need a mother, and she plans to give him just that.

She owed it to Ryu, she would make him proud, she would raise his child and not let his memory be buried in the dusts of time. Nevertheless, before that, she had a personal score to settle with the murderer, for murdering thousands in ambition, for being a key factor in Guile’s demise, for sending assassins after her partner, for killing Ryu most likely in person, and for ruining her life.

With God as her witness, heads will roll, blood will spill, and someone would pay the piper, it was only a matter of time. With that in mind Chunli leaves the office and heads down the corridors, the steam vented she is more calm now, also knowing she mustn’t be dominated by emotions alone, and must also work judgment, or else, she will lose once more, like she did to Bison, and that was unacceptable.

Now she was to embark on the first step on this journey, mainly, learn who her foe is. Every Journey had to begin with one step, and Chunli had some questions for this hi profile informant, whoever he may be, not only about the catalyst of so much suffering, but on some other manner, that might gain her more personal beneficiation.

She traverses through the maze of corridors and intersections, until she reaches a large metallic door, she approaches it and puts her hand a red pressure pad as a robotic voice request sound identification. Chunli sighs at this. “Agent Xiang…” she states, a small ring is heard and then a small camera scans her cornea and then the pressure pad turns green.

“Access granted” the robotic voice speaks once more and the door slides open, Chunli enters, her shoes tapping lightly against the floor. She locates Lu Fei and her boss standing outside the interrogation room. She walks up to them, looking curious to some extent at their bewildered expressions.

She then turns to look through the one sided window, looking into the room. Her eyes widen some and she is left astonished and staggered at the identity of the man who is sitting lavishly and calmly with his arms crossed within the room.

She looks at her boss and new partner who both shrug. She frowns some, “Men…hopeless…” she ponders and reaches for the door, opening it slowly, all the way her mind trying to analyze this man’s intentions as he looks at her smugly and expectantly. Somewhere deep inside her mind, something tells her, that her initially planned first step into the uncharted waters of stopping Shadowlaw just might get her drowned in the process.

** Back at the junkyard **

With power that is quite hard to muster, will and ire Jason climbs back to his feet, steadying himself shakily and wiping some blood off his cheek, it spilling down into the corner of his lips, the bitter iron and chemical combination quite revolting and sickening.

She grins, the exciting sound of steel colliding with flesh gracing her ears, the metal cylinder hitting home due to a quite home-run making swing that sends Jason head whipping sideways with such vigor Jason wonders how it is his head wasn’t severed from his spinal cord.

Jason hits the ground heavily, wincing as a throbbing pain explodes at his left cheek. He licks his teeth, feeling fresh blood fill his mouth cavity, his tongue drowning in crimson, his stomach digesting the bitter liquid and only augmenting the rather awful wooziness and sense of vertigo and nausea he is already undergoing.

His fingers dig into the soil as he strains to push himself back to his feet, body shuddering vaguely, teeth gritting hard, “That little whore…I’ll skin her alive…” he thinks, rage boiling dangerously as exhales hard.

Another thud and Jason hits the deck once more, the pipe slamming into the midpoint of his back with prevailing might, his forehead hitting the solid and cold earth after she places her foot onto the back of his head and forces his face into the ground.

Vibora stands triumphant, hair flapping in the evening wind, pulling one of her hands back, and clicking on a small button located on glove, in the center of her palm. Accordingly, a bone chilling sound of steel sliding against steel fills Jason’s ears, 3 long claws extracting from her wrist guards.

“It’s over…” she mutters, time seeming to snail by slowly, each second an eternity as the moonlight rebounds of her mask and claw. At this colossal moment the scene of her, in her black body suit, a silvery mask with two slits for eyes, dual claws tainted with blood and the whole position they are in now, making her seem like some angel of death that has come for him.

Jason’s teeth grit and eyes fill with the fire of defiance; he was far from out of the race. “Not yet…b*tch” he spits out angrily as he abuses a quite handy surreptitious weapon, his eyes flickering purple once more, a brief surge of power revitalizing him. He could feel it flowing through him, his master’s power, flaring to life via the psycho drive and being sent to deliver him from his inferior position, a most needed boost of power empowering his body.

He turns suddenly, Vibora slipping at his sudden movement, the metal pipe slipping from her grip as well as Jason turning the tables as fist hits her body with vindictive glee, his knuckles grinding to her body, hitting her ribcage and rattling the bone beneath her skin.

Vibora’s eyes shut on impulse as she is “graced” by anguish that lands upon like an unwanted relative she wishes to expel. However, this was only the beginning in Jason’s eyes. He pushes forth still; Vibora powerless to defend herself, as Jason is simply is too close to be avoided.

The Assassin of Spanish decent had made a blunder by think she sent Jason down for the count, and now she was paying the price. A thud, and her head whips back, another makes her body crumples back and bend forward, strike three, she’s out; Jason malevolent in his choice of blows, using a solid uppercut that victimizes her chin, sweeping her off her feet, sending her catapulting her back.

Jason spits blood and saliva, snarling angrily at Vibora as she gasps involuntarily as she hits the ground quite hard, her back hitting an old large piece of steel he guesses used to belong to a dishwasher. The former special ops soldier chuckles some and picks up the metal pipe that had previously delivered him a good deal of pain.

He notices it is slightly dented and bended from the force she used to hurt him, an amused smile rises to his face as he turns his eyes back to Vibora who is careworn and struggling to get off her back and back to her feet, coughing and quivering some. He grins more, how feeble is she now, just in the position her wants her, susceptible to his “treatment”, one that would leave a quite mangled and blood-spattered corpse.

“Bloody f**king hell…” she mutters to herself as she pants hard, pain sneakily trying to consume her. Her limbs are heavy, her already aggrieved back now flaring dreadfully with pain, warm moisture drizzling down her body, under her bodysuit, the sharp side of the skeleton of the infernal piece of scrap she was “lucky” enough to fall on leaving a deep wound on her side.

Footsteps, the reaper’s scythe was looming over her head, the tapping is as if death itself was blowing at the nape of her neck, contemptuous at her failure and at how she will soon be in his possession. She grinds her teeth hard and twists her lips to a grin, seeing the glint of satisfaction in his insane psyche.

He had no idea what was coming, she had a backup plan, she didn’t want to use it, hopeful she could dispose of him regularly and thus be able to save what she stole, sell it on the black market for millions, the piece of hi-tech experimental Israeli-American co-invented weaponry quite priceless to say at least.

“You’re good Woman, but hardly good enough to take ME down” he says and attacks, the metal rod descending toward Vibora with such momentum and power it would most likely be the end of her if it hit, she has only one opportunity to save herself.

She gambles, crossing her claws, the pipe thumping them hard, the pipe denting as it is inferior to the alloy she had ordered specifically for the battle with him. “That is yet to be seen, you walking trash can,” she says and spins on the ground, even if painfully and sweeps his feet.

Jason hmphs in aversion as he blocks his fall with his hands and stands straight, but he had already been beaten; he just doesn’t know it yet. Vibora rises to her feet, a bit wobbly at first, but she sucks her weakness in, now was no time to succumb to physical margins.

“What the h*ll?” he mutters as she takes off in the opposite direction, he turns apprehensive, what was that little assassin up to he wonders, he is left in a predicament, to pursue, or not to pursue, that was the question. He brushes the blood off his lips and exhales angrily, “To pursue, most definitely to pursue…” he thinks and takes off after her, resolved to end it this time.

He taps the icy steel of the piece he should have used from the beginning, a pox upon his ego sometimes; he could’ve been intact, well and on his way home. He scowls as his eyes scan through the piles of junk.

This time around, Jason quite effortlessly finding her with his heat sensors, as her blood is soaked in the cloth of her heat insulating wares. The man turned machine now makes his way toward her, determined to conclude this game, the entertaining way or alternately the efficient way, it did not matter now, he had wasted enough time dueling with the little Spaniard woman.

She’s standing her back to him, looking quite calm and collected, arms crossed, her blond hair matted by filth and muck blowing in the wind, its color quite hard to distinct through the refuse that covers it. “This ends now!” Jason shouts to her.

Vibora grins to herself “Oh that is the understatement of the century my dear Cyborg…” she mutters to herself in a whisper, her hands gliding over the shaft of a silvery detonator in her right hand, she clicks on the red button gently with her thumbs and begins walking away.

Jason is bewildered, but more so infuriated, he takes a step forward and then his ears are deafened by a thunderous blast, a tremor enveloping him him, heat, blinding light, the air picking up momentum the wind barrier hitting him and knocking him off his feet.

However, critical bundles of steel are falling from all directions, Jason shouts in frustration as he is buried in debris.

Vibora walks away, dust and smoke rising to the sky, the echo of the piles tumbling down quite loud, but not enough to faze her. She smiles to herself as she disappears into the darkness; chuckling to herself.

** Meanwhile, the Heart of Gill’s Empire, Brotherhood main Headquarters, Miles to the West of Cairo, Egypt **

“They’re coming…” Gill muses to himself, sitting on his throne. The room is pitch-black, he liked sitting in the silent embrace of complete darkness, it gave him the feel of being within his mother’s womb, always developing and advancing toward perfection, always strengthening and turning more formidable.

The Specimen of Genetic perfection could feel them now, they were moving through his headquarters as if they were rodents stuck in a maze, scurrying for the cheese at the end of the labyrinth. The fools had walked straight into his trap. He grins to himself, eyes flickering in gold once as he chuckles lowly.

He, Gill was tired of hiding, it was time to strike at his foe, just like Hercules in his time wrestled with the three headed dog Cerberus in the midst of Hades, so would he, Gill, fight in under the burning hot sands of the Egyptian against his own foes and rise victories, stomping upon the skulls of his foes.

He waits patiently, sneering at their tactic, cowards slithering silently and artfully in the shadows, like thieves in the night, creeping through his domain. Gill has to admire their courage though; to invade the hub of his power was quite bold and brazen. Gill grins widely; it was so deliciously perfect how his plans had hatched into such a fruitful outcome.

He could taste the blood that spilled on the ground, as his newest brand of guardians moved like a pack, patient predators that followed their prey with silence and grace. Umbrella had proven to him just how useful their creations can be, and he had no doubt, that whatever did manage to survive his fire line of defense would find it quite exasperating to have to pass the sentinel.

Screams of agony, fools, they had gotten it easy, they were free from the labors and hardships of life, their suffering was over, there souls returned to the foundation of life, to the circle of fate, to God’s embrace, they were fortunate.

Gill could easily monitor the intruders himself through the security cameras, but why bother? Where was the fun in that? He prefers to rely on fate to provide him with his destiny. For now, he would rely on his senses and imagination. Many would call him a fool for blindly letting intruders into his headquarters and not monitor the process.

But then again, he had buried those many with his wrath, so their point is blank and pale in his eyes. He was the redemption of humanity, the messiah of the suppressed and decadent species in need for change. He was the material from which legends are forged, the future was his, and his alone.

Gill’s eyes grin widens more, his suspicious were correct, he would have no need to rely on his emergency plan. He shudders some, anticipation, anxiety and impatience hit him, breathing picking up as his heartbeat races.

The herd had been thinned; he could feel it, and the parasites amongst his foes exterminated like the biological excrement they really were. Only the prevalent had reached the final circle, only the worthiest of his enemies would have the right to face the final test.

He would have to answer the Sphinx, the ancient guardian of his people, whose riddles had brought upon the demise of countless infidels and cowardly cutthroats throughout history. The Sphinx was but a vessel that held the memories and powers of all his predecessors, their souls bound to the statue by dark powers only Acolytes of his own school still practiced.

Not by chance however, both the Church and their Crusaders and Islam with their holy wars both failed and finally abandoned their battles against the arts and powers controlled by his people. Instead of admitting defeat, they chose to erase their failure and hide the truth from the pages of history.

Fools, the brotherhood would soon reach its epic power and would take its proper place in the sun, as the monarch of the lowly wretches. The irony was simply gratifying, for those who one hunted him now bowed to him and served him as slaves, unknowing they will bring their own demise, how he enjoyed the joke that echoed through the ages.

The door shudders and then slides open, the guest of honor had finally joined the party, how splendid. Gill claps and chuckles “Marvelous, Marvelous, you truly do live up to my expectations, Welcome to my humble abode!” The Red and Blue master of elements says heartedly.

The last of the intruders bows slightly in mock acceptance “Gill, We finally meet in person, I admire the interior design, you simply must give me the number of your decorator,” The man says with oozing sarcasm as his eyes narrow.

Gill’s hands glow each in its respective color, the fire and ice being absorbed by the chair, the doors shutting behind the newcomers and torches lighting up at the sides of the room, giving the hall dim illumination.

The Blond warrior than shrugs and stands straight his power eyes glowing brightly, his muscular body enveloped by tendrils of fire and bluish ice energy, eyes flickering with yellow life force, a hue of power and glamour around him, looking like a Greek deity. “I’d love to, though it won’t come in handy when I send you the underworld, Xavier,” Gill says.

Xavier’s brow quirks in intrigue, Gill fit the profile his father left stated, but the powers he uses seem to fit the profile, Pyrokenetic and Cryokenetic manipulation, Cellular regeneration, physical supremacy. Somehow though, X sensed something was different in Gill, he couldn’t put his finger on it, nor could he penetrate the Psychic’s mind without effort, and he wasn’t about to attempt that, at least, not yet.

Xavier’s eyes shift from their blank whiteness, tendrils of indigo and violet swirling within the depths of his soul, ablaze within his eyes, his body emitting an identical hue as chuckles lightly “Bold words Godling, However I am short on time, and prefer to settle this quickly, goodbye” The lord of Shadowlaw says.

He concentrates aiming to suck energy from the core of the psycho drive, from his mother’s own core of being to give him enough concentrated power to finish this now. Gill laughs as Xavier’s power do not intensify beyond normal.

“It won’t work dear Xavier, when I clicked the button I activated the nuclear crisis protocol, meaning I locked the complex in lead, no atomic structure or wave length can penetrate it I suppose Urien didn’t tell you about it, since he doesn’t know about it, surprised?” Gill asks with a grin.

Xavier’s eyes narrow some “Without your psycho drive you are weak psychic, your powers are inferior like all of your accursed kin, you are mine, whelp! Gill says and steps down the steps to his throne, wearing the most satisfied of facades on his face.

“I’ll admit you duped me Gill, but I don’t need the psycho drive’s additional powers to dispose of you. You’re right about one thing though, I am yours, for the moment, your executioner,” the corrupted psychic says and his own aura flares to life, swirling around him with the might of his own power.

One a lord of elements, the other the master of the mind, both now stands alone, both locked in a staring contest, none moving,. Both isolated from the world and their plans, two titans of magnitude unseen about to clash in a duel to the death. Two powerful ripples within the wave of reality both about to crash one against the other.

The eerie silence before the storm, the flavor of death fills the air, time slows down and stops, fate holds its breath for it starts, now…

** back at the junkyard **

He grunts with unimaginable effort, pushing against his muscles, the debris shifting some, but not budging, this was fruitless. He’s buried under hundreds of pounds of junk, he was lucky to be alive, his powerful structure saving him from what would be normally, a quite ghastly demise, and the fact a car fell on him, and nothing jagged, him not under the root of the old automobile.

He sighs heavily, there was only one way to get out of this mess, but it was an excruciating one, he’d need to overload his systems with the psycho power, something that was surely going to weaken him once the flush of raw and unbridled energy wanes away into nothingness.

He shuts his eyes and concentrates, sending the codes to the psycho satellite, binary codes exchanging between his systems and the automatic systems above. He sighs, Access has been granted, the code is valid, it was time, and his body begins preparing for the process in the lightning fast actions that give him the edge he needs against most foes.

Deep within his chest cavity, in a plate of steel above his heart a lens begins glowing, a violet glow beginning to pulse and flicker rapidly, he shuts his eyes, his body shaking violently. Her grits his teeth hard, choking down a scream of agony as it is as if molten lava flows through his veins.

His muscles tense, and under his skin the tissue begins to be surrounding by swirling tendrils of violent lilac energy that feeds the cells with the dark and twisted psionic power which is the psycho power. Jason plants his hands against the roof of the car and gives it a massive heave.

The metal creaks and seems to resist his efforts, Jason’s lungs are burning, the air in his lungs as smoldering as a geyser of steam escaping the bowels of the earth, and as painful as being bathed in such vapor.

Jason screams in rage, exasperation, pain and frustration, the horrible sound escaping his vocal cords and echoing through the metallic crevice he is locked within, as well as the nearby area surrounding the pile of garbage.

Beams of violent pierce through the many openings of the in the scrap that piles over Jason, bathing the surrounding area in bright lavender. The Cyborg’s body is now illuminated by the same shade, his eyes flaring with an intense glow that overshadows the brightest stars.

The blockade beginning to budge, more and more as the energy flushes over Jason, adrenaline flowing through him, his heart thundering wildly, ears throbbing, bearings lost, dazed by the rush of uninhibited power.

Just when Jason is sure he cannot take anymore, he manages to toss the metal off him. He collapses forward, exhausted, spent. He pants hard, looking around quickly though his sensors are flickering wildly due to the overload his system had just sustained.

He could sense her, smell her, taste her aura; she was close, very close, somewhere nearby, waiting for him. He climbs to his feet barely, focusing his attention, his sensors slowly calming down, he looks around and finds the woman who had done this to him “Sh*t…” he mutters and gulps.

Vibora laughs aloud, holding a long hexagonal rifle in her hands. Her right hand is holding a horizontal lever at its side the other holding it straight; it aimed at him, how joyous for him. It is around 44 inches long, silvery and as he notices all this, the two seconds he has as the barrel that is 5 inches wide and tall is pulsing, a large web of bluish energy flickering within it flies back from a shockwave that can only mean bad things for him.

He cries out in pain, a burst of bluish energy unleashed from the bizarre weapon. It sinks into his chest, a bizarre sensation passing over him, prickling and shivers hitting him, his vision shifts from blurry to focused extremely fast, his body temperature rising and breathing turning unsteady.

Vibora grins and lowers the rifle as Jason falls back, rolling through the garbage and lying limply, smoke rising from him, his body convulsing some, eyes flickering between red and purple and yellow oddly and weird coughs escaping him.

She puts the weapon down and coughs, holding her side, shutting her eyes and almost collapsing to her knees, her body was quaking with pain, Jason’s vicious blows obviously doing much more than mere superficial damage as most foes had inflicted on her.

She curses, it being hard to breathe correctly, cold sweat drizzling down her forehead, forced to steady herself before she falls. “He got me good, I’ll give him that…” she mutters and drags herself forth, needing to make sure that sardine can on two is dead.

“That’s all it takes to remove one of X’s lackey’s, eh? I didn’t think it’d work so well…All that Electro Magnetic pulse crap I always thought was only for science fiction and movies, guess it really does work…” she muses, impressed at the results of a single shot out of the EMP rifle she “acquired” in Israel.

She kneels down, reaching for the bag she took the rifle in, she takes out a pistol, not willing to take anymore chances with that berserker killing machine, she cocks the pistol, it armed and ready, one bullet to the head, that’s all it takes, all she needs.

Jason lies almost completely still, everything chaotic, all his mechanical systems going haywire, his vision, his bodily functions, all the automatic processing disorderly. He strains to move, and manages to do so barely, trailing his hand over to his neck, reaching behind his ear and clicking on a button hidden behind his hair.

Relief washes over him, though he is completely blind now, clicking the manual override system, now his body working on its biological functions. He is able to hear, talk, move himself normally; even though with his other injuries, his normal at the moment doesn’t qualify in that category and breathe, not more, nothing less than that; but that’s all he needs, she’s getting closer.

She curses profoundly at the pain, wondering why she was so stupid, what she was trying to prove by fighting him hand to hand, making a mental memo to never make such stupid acts out of silly pride again, as she climbs up a hill of trash, needing to have him in clear sight before she pulls the trigger.

Jason hears her, her clutches onto the gun he has now in his hand, the mere effort of taking it out of his pocket quite painful. However, it is quite worthwhile because all his hopes and future lying in one blind shot, he didn’t have any sensors to help him, no aiming system to guide him, now it was just him and the gun, like in his old training days in Special Ops.

“There he is, that wretched piece of scrap” She breathes out heavily and snarls some. He’s in her range, all she needs it to level the firearm and open fire, and that’s exactly what she’s planning to do. Slowly and carefully leveling the pistol, it gleaming in the moonlight as she aims it at Jason

An audible bang is heard, the sound of flesh being torn by lead, then crimson spills onto the steel. Then an eerie silence, as night watches the epilogue of the titanic battle, it the only witness to the downfall of one of two most dangerous assassins in the world.