** Gill’s mantle, underground base, miles from Cairo, Egypt **

When the silence before the storm is pierced, all humanity knows that blood spills, flesh is torn, war is waged and destructions and chaos reign unchecked. The eternal, repetitive turn of events no fighting party can avoid, no individual wants to postpone or cancel. Now it is time to play the final hand, the two lords of their respective factions, forfeit their need for aides and soldiers, for this time, it was personal.

In the bowels of the Brotherhood’s main haven, Xavier, The lord of Shadowlaw, son of Bison, the most powerful psychic on the planet attacks. Specters from the past haunt his mind, flashing before his eyes, teasing, reminding him never to forget, never to give up, the voice of his father speaks to him from beyond the void. “Initiative is the first step to victory, strike fast, strike hard, gain the lead, them dominate the battle through their minds, using their awe and fear…”

Gill’s feet push down against the floor somewhat, lips twisting into a grin as a chuckle bursts from the innards of his lungs, rolling and slithering out of his vocal cords, in his deep, enchanting voice “Cautious? Let me erase your discomfort psychic…by taking the first step” he says and spreads his hands aside, his skin glowing faintly in red, the light flashing once, and flames swirling around his limps, baring his teeth, eyes glaring with their eerie radiance.

Gill’s hands swoop forth, scooping the air on their path, a trail of scarlet following their movement, the furious serpents of flame intensity and focalize into his palms before he claps his hands. Nature gasps out in pain, a tremor as audible as powerful unleashed; Gill’s wrath reborn, palms touching, flames melding into a mighty manifestation of the Godling’s will.

Gill’s palms aim at X, touching one another still, a circle closed, the power finding the opening it needs, the gust of building fury released as a beam of smoldering, fire. The room explodes into ruby, light banishing the shadows, the darkness fleeing before the power.

Xavier stands calm, eyes flickering once, before he is carried into the eye of the tempest, swallowed by the blazing inferno. Gill braces himself, covering his eyes as it connects with the wall, wincing as a horrible explosion rocks the entire complex as the walls of stone and steel submit to his power.

Smoke blocks the Elemental master’s eyes, only the sound of smoke licking against the floor, and stone crumbling from is now a huge hole in the middle of the western wall grace him. He exhales softly, his exhales pushing dust from his face, eyes darting from side to side carefully.

Suddenly, a tap, a chuckle, behind him; Gill turns sharply, swinging his massive fist at what he knows is X’s face, his fist shimmering in pale blue, being covered by a layer of jagged ice that would hurt the psychic badly.

The Heir of Bison’s throne is a slippery one, even Gill’s lightning fast instincts not nearly fast enough. Gill misses, X strikes, quickly, efficiently, painfully, blows slamming into Gill, raining down upon his muscular body.

Gill’s head snaps back, X’s fist hitting his chin hard, followed quickly by three consecutive punches to the red and blue being’s front, each blow sending him a bit back and forcing him to cough slightly. X’s fist screeches toward Gill one more time, X’s power is evident as it roars to live, hitting Gill with force and vigor that would put a boxer to shame, sending him spiraling away painfully as the wide arc sending Gill spinning.

The manifestation of Genetic perfection lands on his side, with a thud, snarling as he gets up, spitting and glaring at the psychic disdainfully while licking his teeth and glaring daggers at the last obstacle in his vying for world domination.

X soars forth once more, however, this time Gill, brows furrowing as he swats X’s hand aside like a revolting maggot, retaliating with a devastating hook punch that sends X’s attack down the drain. Gill wastes no time and quickly kicks the Psychic, his foot hitting him in the ribcage, surrounding by a orange hue, burning hot its touch be, singing X painfully at the area of contact.

X grunts and steps back, bending forth some, grimacing as he can feel his body begin to adjust to the trauma of the heat’s touch, left open for punishment. Gill snorts distastefully, such insolence and stupidity, deformed, has been vermin daring to squeak in his direction of the future of humanity, Gill would have none of it hand slashing outward.

“Let them do your work for you, let them attack you, use their attacks in your advantage…” A vision of Bison senior giving him an example of such a tactic flashes before his eyes shortly before it wisps back into his memory, X grins inwardly now.

Gill’s eyes burst once with blue, his hand covering with ice, jagged blades of ice bursting from his skin, aiming to both clobber and decimate X. The shadow tyrant opens one hand focusing and forcing the air into Gill’s direction with the power of his mind.

His eyes reflect his power, indigo fire covering his palm, his psychic potential bending reality to his whim, a ripple of condensed air cupping around Gill’s arm, passing from X to Gill and suspending it in place, binding Gill’s limb immobile.

X has a golden chance and he uses it to launch himself into the air, forcing himself upward by controlling of the air around him and forcing it into the desired direction he has in mind. Everything is in slow motion, moments alone passing, time snailing by as X’s power follows.

X’s hand clasps around Gill’s shoulder, fingers digging into flesh and locking iron hard upon it, giving the psychic a good grip to make a quick aerial spin. X’s feet kick of the nape of Gill’s neck, in such an angle that forces him to stumble forth helplessly while the dark lord propels himself into the air.

Gill’s slips and tumbles forth, body brushing against the floor, cleaning the dust off the floor while X levitates in the air, charging his power pulsing waves of psionic energy amassing into a sphere in his hands, a deep, demonic looking glow emitting from between his hands.

The Godling’s pride is tarnished and his rage bubbles dangerously, as he gracefully rises to his feet, wearing an enraged façade, his face twisted in disgust and contempt at the insult as his eyes shift from gold to deep crimson body glowing brightly in red.

Gill crosses his arms, embracing Xavier’s psycho power, gritting his teeth, pushed back a few good feet back from the shockwave it creates as it collides against a dense wall of flames, the fire curving inwardly before swirling rapidly.

X’s eyes narrow suspiciously, what was that overgrown ice-cream machine/flamethrower up to he wonders. All he does know, it requires a high reserve of power and it could prove painful if it hits, if being the key word here.

Gill’s lung expel a horrid scream of rage, rumbling and ferocious as his hands slam unto the ground, sinking into the stone and forming huge cracks, molten fire flows from his body, forming a huge geometric shape around him.

A huge Octagon is forged by fire and physical power, glowing in bright red, filling with fire, like a massive pool of illuminated blood, its corners icy white and flickering with energy.

Xavier lands on the ground, the whole process taking mere seconds, everything moving in top notch speed, he couldn’t help avoid something of such a wide scale, in such little time, unless… nope too late.

All hell breaks loose, Gill’s hands embracing his chest a huge pillar of blazing ruby malice rising and hitting the ceiling, fed by white beams of ice energy that rotate around it. Xavier stands outside of the rage of the pillar, looking at it curiously, as the dark one, steps back cautiously, wondering what Gill is trying to achieve.

Gill’s hands then spread to his sides, the ring expanding, the fire filling the room completely, impossible to avoid, intense with all the might of Gill. X’s head whips back, pain hitting him as he is embraced by the gale of apocalyptic devastation

** Meanwhile, Outside A small, 3 story hotel, London, England **

“Oh bloody hell, you’ve gotta be kidding me…” She complains as she looks at the landscape, hunched behind a wall, and peering at the carnage on the street, which is now quite empty due to the previous panic and the security forces emptying them.

Her face is covered with an her muzzle like gas mask, she’s wearing a black body suit, infrared visors and hugging her SA-80 rifle to her body, the barrel gleaming some. Against her waist, her personal Desert Eagle gun is placed snugly in its holster, the powerful firearm quite deadly with its 0.5-inch bullets, added to 2 small grenades and a bonus fuel grenade. Finally, she has a commando knife strapped to her ankle if the need arises.

Her name is Cammy white, she is one of the most prestigious and skilled special operatives in all of Brittan, one of Mi6 finest, and now that’s given her a phone call on her vacation, a boot to the a**, and emergency situation control duty, isn’t life a beau sometimes.

The Commando once more secures the magazine of her rifle and making the SA-80 is locked, loaded, and read to fire, knowing she’s going to need that very vowel known as firing, quite soon. It is late at night, the moon covered by the thick layer of clouds above, visibility near zero, perfect for Cammy’s needs now; she flips on the infrared visors and licks her lower lip as everything shifts to a bright white and red.

Her visor covered eyes roam over to the target building. She hmms as she catches a heat reading from the window, by his posture and directing, his rifle aimed at the street below him, and from a from a d*mned hard angle to shoot at. She curses profoundly, wondering since how and when those bastards get this sophisticated all of a sudden. It was insane, they were using increasingly more diverse and cunning tactics, and this has Cammy vexed.

She ducks low and winces involuntary as a burst of bullets ricochets near her, the bullet digging into the concrete, shards flying and dangerously coming close to her, she gulps and curses once the burst ends and runs for it.

Ms. White dashes quickly, leaping behind a car, and ducking low, cursing as heavy fire hits the steel, rebounding off the hull of the poor Subaru 91 car, some poor sod just got himself a hassle with the insurance company, Blech, sh*t happens…

She waits until the gunfire ends and calculates the estimated angle, and height, and takes a deep inhale, time to sink or swim, touching her forehead with the cold surface of the barrel and whispering a quick prayer before she breaks for it.

Her muscles tense and body rockets forward, accelerating her speed quickly as she sprints toward the entrance while pulling the trigger, holding the rifle in both hands firmly as she fires up at the window, the rifle rattling heavily as the bullets fly forth rapidly.

The golden 45mm caliber death bringers blow apart the window, shards of glass raining down from above like jagged droplets of rain and silently shatter upon hitting the ground, the precise attack wounding if not killing her assailant who was busy reloading his Kalashnikov rifle that escapes man’s grip.

She ponders over the executers of this entire mess, them 9 members of a new terror organization linked to Al-Qaida. According to initial intelligence reports, they originated from Egypt and Saudi Arabia, known as the “National front for Islamic unity”.

For her, they were nothing but soon to be bleeding corpses, the bastards, they had slain 70 out of the 250 helpless hostages in cold blood, some children under 10, inhuman pieces of filth, not relenting their murderous rampage until the British authorities met their demands, some key terror ring leaders freed.

They had freed the remaining hostages, supposedly doing as they promised, however a surviving hostage had told the police that he saw them bring in large boxes, suitcases and backpacks and haul them toward the basement, that probably why the terrorists refused to evacuate the building.

Mi6’s assumption is for the worst, unconventional explosives, enough to blow up a nice chunk out of the surrounding area and spread the killer substance into the air, spreading even more death to the British populace, this was unacceptable; the special ops won’t let the vermin scumbags commit such an atrocity.

Nevertheless, dealing with the imminent threat wasn’t her objective, she looks to the shadowy figures that creep quickly down the street, hugging the walls of the building and signaling her to continue. She simply “loved” Decoy missions, but, what high command says, she accomplishes, if they wanted a diversion, she’d give’em one heck of a party.

She races toward the door and hmms, pausing before crossing the threshold and examining it. “Hmm… slightly open, and it’s too quiet on the other side, no heat reading in the…ooh, what do we have here…hehehe…thought you could lead me into a trap didn’t you? I’ve got another thing coming for you…” she whispers to herself, knowing the door rigged no doubt as it is partially open and the fact someone is perched near the door in a suspicious manner, probably holding the detonator.

“Hussein, AlKilab yantatherou bealbarrah!” (“Hussein, the dogs are waiting outside”) One of the masked men whispers as he peers down at the door from the balcony outside. His dark eyes peer at the door, breathing heavily, excited, anxious, and angry after they found Mohammed dead.

They would kill all the infidels, they would take them to hell in the name of Jihad, and fight the evil forces of the Christian Crusaders and their allies, the demonic Jews, in Allah’s name they would all burn in hell forever!

He hears an earth rocking explosion and a shockwave sends the window above him shaking, he grins and motions the others with his head, licking his lower lips. He grips his ready rifle hard, blood thumping through his lungs as he gets up and speeds down the corridors, the world rushing and inside feeling the exhilaration.

Personally, despite the daunting prospect he didn’t care much of death, living in the poverty and moving nowhere in life, just sinking in frustrating at the stupidity of the pro-European and American leaders of his country. To watch as the putrid Jews continue to weave their web over the world unchecked was worse, besides, it was God’s will, such was he taught since childhood by his society and mentors, to die in holy war, Jihad.

Moreover, most importantly his family would be paid to help it while he is in heaven, now able to get along, and revive the family business that is in a dire need of money. He would be forgive for murdering those people before, when he gets to heaven, where his 72 virgins will be granted to him and he gains a place of honor amongst the Shuhaddah(warriors killed in a holy war) of Allah

As he rushes to the main hall, his gun ready to open fire, hearing his two companions running behind him, his rifle rises to a ready stance, his finger loose on the trigger. He looks around, but unable to see through the veil of smoke, the wind blowing it inward from the now huge opening in what was until not too long ago the entrance

Pain, sharp and sudden and he chokes, the world turning red, him dropping his Kalashnikov and looking down at his chest, large holes which spew crimson now there, his lungs fill with blood and eyes fill with tears as his body tenses, knees buckling as he collapses to the floor.

He had been deprived of life, brainwashed and wasted by the lies of manipulative people who had abused the Koran, The Muslim holy book, for their ambition and made the Islam he was taught from a peaceful religion to a bloodthirsty militant mandate to murder.

Cammy steps out from the smoke, rifle spewing some wisps of vapor and shells falling from it as she calmly walks up the steps, ignoring the blood that pours from the bodies of the now three dead Terrorists, no remorse for those who slew civilians, for those who would show her none.

Cammy discards the magazine, having consumed it completely and exchanges it with a new one with a atonement to her expertise as it is almost an instinct as she looks around quickly, knowing she must caused a ruckus with that.

She turns her head, footsteps, one of her hands lets go of her SA-80 as she reaches for her belt and with one smooth motion plucks off the grenade and brings it up to her lips, her teeth gnawing on the steel of the safety catch as she pulls it out with a quick yank of her head.

With a mighty toss the small steel sphere hits the wall and rebounds off it, She immediately lifts her rifle and pulls the trigger, moving back quickly while steadying the rattling rifle. Her blue eyes are steel cold under her visor, mind crystallized, the years of special ops missions making her durable to any kind of sight, it helping her stay calm and impassive as she unleashes a few quick bursts while moving, their feeble attempts to open fire pathetic as their fear and confusion render them useless.

She without emotion watches on as the terrorists fall like flies, her bullets ripping them apart, their blood spraying and spilling to the floor and ground, what’s left engulfed by the grenade quite gruesomely, her finger releasing the trigger and letting the warm rifle cool down before she hears more bullet fire, knowing the mission was over.

Cammy exhales heavily and hmms as she looks casually at one of the bodies she left before and sees something that catches her sight and walks over to the body and kneels beside it, tilting her head to the side as she picks up the man’s backpack, which was miraculously unscathed, Cammy always being a good shot.

She flips it open and finds ammunition varying from grenades to bullets of the most deadly kind, to bundles of British money, and there, most importantly, a document, signed by high command of the organization.

It the perverse form of a will or last words dictated for them, meant to be broadcast on T.V before they kill themselves and a multitude of other innocents, this could perhaps yield some information for with the document she found others, ones that would be very appreciated in high command.

She picks up the bag, and slings it over her shoulder, walking toward the entrance to the scene of the bloodbath, her soul just a bit more hollow than before, as it always is once she does these missions. Feeling within that all their efforts are for naught, Terrorism only growing and strengthening steadily, what was the point she wondered.

Cammy takes off her visors, and sighs heavily, she needed a drink right about now, to wash down the gruesome sights and gloomy thoughts, she shrugs and walks out of the building, another day over, another mission accomplished.

** Back to the Cavern **

Gill rises to his feet, the whole area lying in burning ruins, the toxic vapor, clearing slowly by the ventilation of the nearby rooms and corridors, the repulsive stench of melted stone and steel making cough once.

Xavier Bison’s will pushes the vapor from his path, cleaving through the thick layer of smoke, him a few feet from Gill, standing with his arms crossed. His horrid empty eyes glimmering faintly as his power dies away, his clothing half burned and body slightly wounded, his power a second too late from protecting him completely, but not a second too soon to saving his flesh from being consumed.

“Not bad…” Gill muses and his lips curve into half a grin “You’re quite durable for a psychic” he comments with a chuckle, to which Xavier simply brings his hands to his sides and narrows his eyes, letting his teeth bare into a menacing, bone chilling smile.

So you like to project your power…how…convenient…” The psionic prodigy ponders as his body dissolves into atoms, dispersing upon the waves of his desire. His body reforms into a material manifestation just in time to feel Gill’s ice covered fist collide hard with his body.

X grunts and steps back, sensing Gill’s intention he prepares. Gill leaps upward, bringing both knees crashing into Xavier’s upper body, sending the lord of the biggest crime syndicate in history 2 steps backward.

Gill uses his momentum to continue his assault bringing his forehead forth, hitting X’s head with devastating power, the bone rattling against bone dazing X momentarily, but not enough to make him fail in his plight.

X’s power roars to life, the force of X’s rage and hatred igniting viciously as it engulfs Gill, tendrils of invisible power encasing Gill into a very pale lilac globe. Gill’s face hits the invisible barrier and he slumps slightly against it, gaining his bearings and placing his hands against the new cage, hmphing.

Gill’s eyes widen and his body convulses as X’s hand touch the globe, his power overcharging the points of contact, the dark energy swallowing Gill’s mind, making his body tense and heartbeat go irate, pain flaring to life all over Gill’s body.

The Godling gasps in pain, but submits not to the torture, fists bursting into angry blue and shattering the solid telekinetic confinement, relief washing over Gill as he lands heavily on his feet, coughing once and gasping for air, not the wisest of action, but involuntary.

X’s power reawakens once more; force casing his fist and forming a blade like extension that rotates like a drill. With a bang that would make a sane man leap out of his skin, the psychic hits Gill’s body dispersing across his body in bluish-purple tendrils, gathering power until the knuckles touch the skin with excruciating might.

Bone connects with flesh, energy collecting, obeying its master, and creating a powerful augmentation affect, the blow being tripled in force as the power erupts to life, creating a shockwave that catapults Gill back with extreme speed and pain.

Gill’s lungs choke on the oxygen as he defies Newton’s laws, pain washing over him shortly, before he crashes into the remainders of a wall, passing through it and being buried in some debris. Gill coughs some, dazed by the force behind that single blow.

He had never faced such single-handed power, it was disturbing, but at the same time intriguing, alluring, if he added it to his own genetic potential, he would be invincible. Now he had another goal, his lips twist into a feral grin as he pushes the rubble off him and faces X with a wide, toothy grin, finding it deliciously ironic that X’s own blood will be the instrument of his ascension to perfection.

Gill’s crosses his arms, wrists touching and being engulfed in blue Frost energy. Gill’s eyes reflect the same element as the tendrils travel down his arms and swirl into a growing discus like projectile that is increasingly flickering dangerously.

Xavier’s eyes flicker once with cerulean lightning, the power of his soul summoned to life, his hands glowing brightly as he brings them before his body, creating an invisible barrier, intercepting the projectile, wincing pain flares through him and he’s pushed against the floor.

Xavier holds the projectile and grins, his eyes shifting color, pulsing waves of sinister mental power coating over the orb of ice energy, its color changing rapidly as its beams of light explode from it’s core, beginning to shimmer angrily with the forced merge of different energies.

The Godling reacts quickly getting an idea, calling forth his arctic power, intense pallid energy circling around him at once, his body glowing in a makeshift halo of divine impression, his body alive as power charges it, gaining strength and then, letting it go.

X throws both hands forward, the orb of ice shattering, the fragments being thrown forth by the dominating resolve of his psyche, shooting forth like angry bullets, wishing to tear into Gill. The air itself bleeds and nature cries out in pain.

Gill erects a huge wall of ice as he crouches and places his hand on the ground, it rising violently and intercepting the shards, the ice submits to the sheer power of the merged energies. The sound of shattering fills the silent abode.

Gill winces and grits his teeth as pain visits him, two of the blades of psychic ice passing his defenses despite his best efforts, some lacerations left as they cleave through his flesh, causing his life’s blood to be freed from it’s confinement in his veins, his right arm being wounded as well as his right temple being grazed.

Gill’s eyes open, sensing X summoning his power to continue his attack, just what Gill needed, an opening. Ignoring the warmth of the drizzling crimson staining his blond hair and spilling down his blue arm, he forces his powers to life once more, this time however, for a different intent.

Xavier dashes forth, focusing his power into his body, his blood gushing through his veins violently, muscles tensing, his body exploding as he concentrates on releasing havoc, time melting slowly as his movements become blurry, spilling forth like some liquid shadow, as he becomes one with his soul, energy washing over him, aching for release.

Gill brings both fists together, his left first ablaze with scarlet, his right frozen with white, body snakes of negative energy coiling one against the other, each trying to devour and absorb the other. A audible bang and then a tremor as a huge gust of burning hot steam rushes forth.

X never knew what hit him, the squall knocking him off his feet, his power being broken and body pushing back while being bathed in the forceful heat of the vapor. X quickly scrambles his power to protect himself from, however it dispersing once more as he hits a wall with authority, leaving a quite deep impression before sinking to the ground with a thud.

Gill rises to his feet, a bit weakened and definitely in pain, but far from down for the count, his body able to absorb huge amounts of punishment. He then turns to glare at his wounds with disgust before, before scowling and turning to X, intent on destroying most of him, all he needed was a fragment of tissue, that wouldn’t be too hard to get.

X’s eyes snap open as he overcomes the initial shock, his body aching and skin crawling, pushing himself up to his feet, exhaling sharply, that hurt, But not enough to take him out, he was still very much alive and kicking, and that would cost that arrogant little prick dearly.

He grunts as Gill’s fist sends him crashing back into the wall, body flattened to the stone. He then almost vomits as the element lord hand charges into his abdomen, and presses him to the wall. Xavier is in a world of pain, heat beginning to build from that point of contact.

“When back to the wall, when assumingly weak, overcome yourself boy, show them who you really are, show them our power…” Bison’s voice echoes in his mind, demanding, commanding. X inhales deeply, the few seconds of torture only stirring his psycho power more, the rage incalculable, the hatred gnawing at the walls of his mind, raking for him to attack.

X’s reaction isn’t late to come “ENOUGH!” X hisses and clocks Gill with a powerful punch, so much force behind it that Gill stumbles a foot back. X hits the floor, falling to his knees, exhaling heavily, eyes burning through Gill as he launches himself forward.

Gill’s fist smacks him into his ribcage, bones victimized and rattling at the force behind the blow, but Xavier is beyond pain, he is a superior being, he would not be dominated by such sensations, hushing the wave of vertigo, he detonates.

Gill reels back painfully, X pelting him with augmented fists and renewed vigor, his fists like battering rams, smashing into him with brutal might. Two quick, consecutive punches land upon the upper body of Gill, forcing him back, finishing the quick combination of blows with a powerful fist to the Godling’s nose.

The sound of bone being shattered and being forced into flesh is heard and Gill groans and holds his nose, blood spilling in between his fingers as he coughs and tries to gain distance, needing to gain his bearings and shift the momentum back to his favor.

“First…dominate them, then injure them…then destroy them!” Bison goads him from the abyss, his voice screaming in Xavier’s mind, the psychic destroyer, whose name is carried in hushed whispers of fear leaps forth, kicking off Gill’s body, using his powers to propel himself backward, the shockwave sending the Godling soaring backwards.

Gill on his front, shaking and pushing himself to his feet, spitting saliva and blood and arranging his breathe, slowly looking up, then grunting as Xavier slams into him, a human comet of blue fire, his fists hitting Gill, a huge tremor and shockwave spreading across the room, wind toppling over rubble.

The Godling is engulfed in the raging, uncontained power of the soul of one Xavier Bison. Pain drowning him and flushing all through him, as the psychic disappear, the world spins and chaos devours him, the force of the collision sending him into the wall with such force his body decimates the wall and he’s sent through it, and landing hard onto his back, lying limp, smoke wisp out of his body.

Xavier reappears, face cold and calm, the intense glow around him dying down, his body ablaze with power, feeling invincible and omnipotent as his rage governs him. He shuts his eyes forcing the tidal wave of darkness to relent.

His face pales and eyes widen as Gill bursts through the rubble, his eyes blazing in gold, “I’m not down yet…Psychic…” his voice hisses in contempt, but it’s different, deeper, harsher, booming, and when Gill’s power banishes the shadows that shroud his body, X is left in shocked, what had that psycho done to himself?

** Meanwhile, Stonehenge Prison, Nevada desert, USA **

“You want me, to do you, a favor?” she asks, in an amused tone, quirking her slender brow as her lips twist into an entertained little grin, her brown eyes flashing with curiosity at the ludicrous request that has been filed to her just now.

“It’s not exactly a favor Hasigawa, it’s more like a bureaucratic suggestion, that I highly advise you agree to” the man says with cold malice, and unmistakable threat. His small beady eyes narrowing, his big dark lips slanting with his displeasure, the ripples of fat of which his face consists of emphasizing what would otherwise be a simple frown.

“Is that supposed to apply as a threat Warden?” The Asian Femme known as Ibuki asks him while pillowing her head with her arms, lying on her bunk, eyes on the ceiling, not heeding the chunky corrupt chief of office much.

“Take it however you want,” He says and sighs heavily, looking at the woman who had been a real headache every since she arrived at his prison. This Japanese criminal, whose hands can kill one in over 20 ways, looks so innocent, with her striking face and figure lying in long striped prison trousers, and a sleeveless white singlet that clings in a flattering way to her slender and lithe body.

The ex- Shinobi, fallen and betrayed sits up, turning to look at him, her face turning stony and calm, eyes flickering with intelligence and aptitude as she folds her hands together. “2 conditions” She says to which the Warden motions that he’s listening.

“1, I’m sent back to the normal cells from isolation, 2, You’ll get a number of books on several subjects I need to study,” Ibuki says, more than ready to at use her captivity period, as she hasn’t anything better to do. She will take herself to the next level, to evolve and send her skills and power to new heights, to undertake directions Shinobi Orthodox would never allow.

She sneers in disgust inwardly at the obese man, contemplating the conditions and benefits, rubbing his three folds of a chin. “Done, tonight at 9 we’ll give it a test run, be ready, if ya win, it’s a deal, if ya lose, well I guess you can keep on feeling at home here” he says and carries his flabby body out of the cell. The guards shut door behind him, securing the lock and leaving Ibuki in the semi illumination the little golden rays of light from under the door grant her.

Ibuki gets up and stretches, sighing flippantly, patting her stomach lightly, her silky soft skin tightly stretched over her flat and firm muscles, her body shaking some as she pops her shoulders once and unleashes a mighty yawn.

She then massages the back of her neck, and does some morning exercises to stretch and flex her tense muscles, ready to proceed to her routine morning kata and training. Her eyes immediately narrow as she quickly shifts to her stance, hands rising and hopping lightly off the ground using the balls of her feet.

Her foot lashes forth swiftly, her body whirling and her heel hitting an imaginary foe, her mind envisioning the target staggering back dazed. Then, like a graceful ballerina in a faultless, fluid motion her foot returns to the cool cement floor.

At the very second it touches the ground, her alternate foot ascending with lightning speed, her body propelled upward spinning backward once the kick is exhausted, a move that would be a quite painful kick to the chin ending with her landing lightly on her feet.

The Japanese Ninja had agreed to fight illegally in a cross-country prison tournament in the prison’s name, the wardens throughout the area bringing their meanest and leanest lowlifes to brawl, the wardens gambling on which of the poor louts remains standing.

Generally, she wouldn’t agree to do anything to assist the warden, but she actually finds a luster to the idea. Number one being the urge to get out of this miserable sardine box of a cell, and secondly get some good quality training. She couldn’t expect to stay in shape and more so grow stronger by performing Katas forever. It didn’t matter to her who got the money, only the fight and the ability to push her skill further.

Most importantly was for her to have opportunities to try new techniques she was developing on her own. Ibuki had noticed a weak spot in her skill and fighting abilities, while her hand to hand combat was solid, fast paced and fluid, her chi abilities were not being used to the fullest of their capabilities, a thing she intends to rectify, soon.

She propels herself forward, kicking in such a manner that in real life would send a normal man reeling or falling back, should it connect with his head. Her foot touches the cold stone of the wall, the pain dull but not too bothersome.

The Heir to Shinobi’s blood and power had promised she would not let Xavier Bison escape with manipulating, humiliating and destroying her without a fight. Thus, she’s willing to participate in this tournament, she wouldn’t compromise her ethics or morals and kill or decimate anyone weaker than her, so she finds herself at ease and ready for the tournament.

Her brown eyes flash in blue, irises ablaze with her lifeforce, crackling electrical surges dancing around her cornea, her fist bursting with chi, wisps of energy curling around her fingers and liquid energy spilling over her fist, her eyes flaring as she pulls her fist back. “You may have won the battle X, but you haven’t won the war, I’m not done for yet, not by a long shot” she whispers to herself in Japanese, throwing her first forward, the chi roaring to life upon contact with the solid stone.

Her eyes are cold, determined, her face impassive and fierce with power as her knuckles grind into the stone, the pain of bone against stone flares but she swallows it down. Her face tenses and teeth grit somewhat hard, but her body able to stomach the trauma to it, pulling her fist back if painfully and running her fingers over a nice impression left by her fist.

The Last, even if she oblivious to this fact, of the Shinobi’s eyes flicker with content and she smiles faintly “Not by a long shot” she whispers to herself in a somber and calm manner.

** Back in Egypt, **

Gill’s body has been deformed, covered in dark crimson all over, drizzling from wounds X didn’t deliver him, rather from a quite, disturbing change in the Godling. The Egyptian’s canines are now and inch longer and as sharp as blades; large bone procuring from his back and shoulders, his muscle tone bulged even more, his fingernails long and black, like talons, his feet looking more reptilian than human, with long claws digging slightly into the rock vapor escaping his mouth.

“Now psychic…it’s time to die…” Gill hisses in a cold and malicious tone, licking his blood covered teeth and charging forth, leaping 4 feet forth with increased agility, growling like a savage beast, which is probably what he partially is at this point, as he swipes his claws at Xavier.

Xavier’s eyes flash once, the lord of the psycho power throwing one hand forward, bending the atoms of the air to his will, making them spiral before sending them flying forth. Vapor turns into solid matter and thrusts into Gill’s body, commanding his momentum and reversing it, sending the bestial Gill flying back.

The Godling twists impossibly with the air, demonic speed and flexibility his tools in his successful attempt to block his fall, ending up soundly landing on his feet as nothing had occurred at all. The golden flicker in his eyes shows hilarity as he throws his hand forth.

The forces of nature come to him, molding into a globe of flames, the great element of life and death howling at being reined by mortality and bent to such a petty, corrupt spirit, the hissing sound of its frustrating overwhelming.

Gill’s blood gives him the gift to commandeer the powerful force, the glow rebounding off him majestically as the combustive tongues of primordial power gobble oxygen hungrily. Then it shoots forth a path of scarlet left in it’s path, hoping to consume, to eradicate, to quench rage and hunger with X’s flesh.

Xavier Bison, heir to the blood of some of the most powerful beings in human history swings his hand across his body, his telekinetic potential, his inherited endowment sending invisible fingers to grasps the angry force of nature. His soul explodes, grasping his corporeal self and filling it with intoxicating force, his mind proving dominion as it forces the offending globe back at its sender, the sphere sent back at its maker, colliding into Gill’s body with an angry crackle.

The fire sinks into his body and a horrible laughter makes Chills run up X’s spine. “Fool, you cannot stop evolution! I am the future!” Gill booms and charges forth once more, sneering evilly at the lord of Shadowlaw as he throws a projectile at him while running; the blazing energy concentration is approaching dangerously fast.

X’s eyes flash and his body fades into nothingness, blinking back into existence 2 feet behind Gill, his arms crossed, eyes calculating, A foreboding sword of Damocles rotating over his head with the enigma of dealing with the new “evolved” foe. Nevertheless, before Xavier can retort he finds himself in the face of a different form of trouble.

“Your teleportation is getting predictable psychic,” Gill declares as X gasps, Mother nature’s cold energy surrounding him, striking him and paralyzing him as the arctic power rears into action. Ice covers him and encases his body in a coffer of crystal. X tries to block the power away with his mind, but Gill power banishes his own, piercing his protective barriers and flooding him with the white-blue embrace of winter, the sovereign of nature thickening it, seeming content and happy with himself as he cages X in such a ideal wrapping for saving his tissue for the genetic scientists.

X’s eyes flutter, his body so very cold, everything dark, his blood beginning to decelerate. his mind blackout, everything whirling into a blurry bedlam, pictures flashing before his mind. He can see his father, leaving to fight a battle the warlord knows he cannot win against Rose, saying its part of destiny, unavoidable. He finds himself, blocking his path, shouting, demanding, even begging his father not to go, asking Bison to let him go in his place, then to be pushed back with gentle force, his request rejected.

“So in then end…evolution conquers the mind, conquers the soul, you are strong boy, but in the end… You are NOTHING!” Gill says and chuckles, tapping on the ice and sighing contently his lips slanted into a victorious grin of satisfaction.

X’s mind focuses on the memories, them giving him strength, clarity, banishing the overwhelming urge to let go the cold and surrender. He knew that day that his father was dead. From then until now, forever would he be alone.

Nevertheless, the white eyed psychic was adamant to conquer his foes and complete his obligations, for he promised Bison he’d make him proud, he vowed he’d do what had to be done, that he wouldn’t fail, that he would stand triumphant in the day after.

“I shall not…I will not…I cannot…be stopped!” Xavier’s screams inwardly, reflecting it outward with his mind, electromagnetic waves transmitted by his psychic powers. Like a caged beast his power claws at the walls of his prison, bouncing off the ice and gnaw into it, his tiredness is erased as he reaches deep into himself and gathers more of his power, to fight, under his eyelids, energy flickering rapidly as tendrils of violet energy begin to dance around his limbs.

The ice shudders once, causing Gill to turn around, quirking a brow in interest. It surface beginning to fracture, beams of lavender bursting from the ice, shattering sounds accompanying the rumbling of the ice which is becoming increasingly violent, Xavier’s power serving it’s master, coming to life to free him from his crypt.

His eyes snapping open and erupting into blazing violet, the beams of light breaking in the crystal coffin, before the coffin of frost explodes, X’s hands shooting through it, razor-sharp blades of ice spraying in all directions.

“The battle…is not over…” X says callously, fists clenched firmly, as he darts forward at Gill, body a blurry shadow. Gill chuckles and bares his teeth, intercepting Xavier’s attack, his wrist deflecting the psychic’s blow, his body shifting to dodge the psychic’s kick, his speed now fairly more than the mind master can handle.

Gill body turns to dodge a kick, him spinning along with his dodging motion, slashing his hand upward, talons finally having some use, them digging into the psychic’s body, leaving long lacerations across the Shadow master’s upper body.

The psychic grits his teeth leaps upward while somersaulting, his foot crashing into the Godling’s chin, forcing him back. X remains airborne, only to be grabbed by Gill who recovers quickly and dragged to the ground, the evolved beast’s hand clasping over the psychic’s neck and driving him into the ground with authority, leaving a nice impression and X quite winded.

Gill attempts to drive his fist through X, his fist blazing in abysmal flames, willing to destroy the pest in his path, willing to compromise and even neglect the next step of evolution, if necessary, as long as he gets the thorn out of his side, for the last time.

X’s body however vanishes, and appears above the Godling, using his father’s trademark move, stomping on the Godling’s head with his boots, kicking off him and soaring away, gathering his power as he does, watching Gill with an ever vigilant eye, to try and negate what the is up to next.

Gill snorts disdainfully “Enough games psychic, the dawning of your destiny has come, I shall show you true power…” he says and his eyes shut, his arms outstretching to the sides of his body, bending down as his chest cavity glows.

Xavier lands quickly on the ground, alarmed; the power gathering was too intense to block in such a state of over exhaustion. The lord of Shadowlaw is weakening, he had thrown enough to tear down a whole army of street fighters at Gill, but his rejuvenation powers and mutation seem to make him resilient or at least, more durable to damage, since he can sense the Godling is wounded as well, if only moderately.

Wings of white energy sprout from Gill’s back, six wings shimmering with radiant power that is quite amazing to behold; his body bathed in silver, wisps of gentle energy curling around him gracefully, his head bowing down, his long blond hair flapping gently, hands slowly opening as he rises into the air levitating a foot or two above the ground.

Xavier has only one chance, he knows what he must do, it’s all vying on this one move, life or death, victory or defeat, to become an eternal legend, or a forgotten whisper, he had to succeed, he had only one choice, one option, he would take it, it was all or nothing now.

His skin charges up with power, the shadows being pushed away and all being devoured by the glow, Then Gill’s eyes open, revealing two silvery orbs, which Xavier marks into his memory as one of the most eerie and bone chilling sights he’s ever witnessed.

X body shimmers in deep mauve light as he throws both hands forward, focalizing all his energy reserves into a huge wave of psychic power that blinds him. The dark lord glares deeply into Gill’s eyes, his own flaring in the most intense indigo, more deep that the depths of the ocean, more frightening than staring at death, his face fixed in cold resolve and calculation as he pushes the energy forward. Then his head snaps back at the system shock it forces out of him, before his eyes snap open in shock.

A huge thunderous blast deafens the two lords as their powers clash violently fully. Gill, the future of human evolution now one with unholy bestial genes utilizes his great charge up of power and sends massive energy ripples of pure power expanding in all directions, tearing everything in their path, the very molecules around them charging up with the sheer power behind his attack.

X on his part, sends forth the huge wave of psycho power that causes the air to vibrate with its condensed power, it like an arrow attempting to drive through the waves of Gill’s power. The result of their powers touching one another is devastating a supernova imploding, a titanic tremor expanding in all directions, destroying everything, and causing Mother Nature to bleed and scream in agony, the very earth shaking with her sobs.

Above the surface, the shockwaves created decimate the whole mantle of the brotherhood’s strength, the energy destroying, steel, stone and flesh, anything in its path as both powers expel residue in all directions. The light dies down slowly, the earth silences it is weeping, huge layers of smoke and toxic vapor left in the wake of the destructive clash of power.

The two most prominent beings in the world stand one before the other, each in the same stance they were before the blast, looking at one another as they did before. One is alive, the other is dead, the wind blows, a thud is heard, a quite torn and destroyed body slumps dead to the floor, blood pours and pools, sinking into the now raw rock that was under the cement and steel floor that is as ruined as the body.

This was the dawning of a new day, the beginning of a mighty ascension to power, now unhindered by interferences. At the end of the day though, only one thing was for sure though, Urien fooled both of them, the living one, and the now deceased one , and he was going to pay dearly for setting this battle up.