X-Force: Beyond Omega

Ch: 34 [A trap]

The rendezvous point was deep in an abandoned warehouse district, shadowed and silent. Jean and Kitty walked a few paces ahead, scanning the area, while Logan, Scott, and Psylocke brought up the rear. Psylocke's purple hair glowed faintly under the moonlight, her katana sheathed but ready, her psychic senses on high alert.

They had received intel on a mutant smuggler operation in this location.

"Anyone else getting a bad vibe here?" Logan growled, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the empty windows around them.

"Yeah," Kitty replied as she glanced at Jean. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Jean stopped, placing a hand on her temple as she reached out with her telepathy,

Amidst the chaos, Jean's eyes narrowed as a powerful telepathic signal suddenly bombarded her mind. She gritted her teeth, trying to shield herself from the invasive presence. It was then she realized—someone was dampening her powers, weakening her telekinesis and telepathy.

"Scott!" she called, barely managing to send him a mental warning before the dampening force surged again. "They're using a power suppressor. I can't… I can't hold them off."

Scott turned to her, worry flashing in his eyes. "Jean, focus on staying safe. We'll get through this."

But before she could reply, Sabretooth charged her, taking advantage of her weakened state. He knocked her down, pinning her to the ground with a wicked grin.

"Looks like the redhead's out of her league," he sneered, claws raised.

Just as he was about to strike, Scott aimed his visor directly at Sabretooth's face, blasting him off of her. Jean scrambled to her feet, clutching her side where Sabretooth's claws had grazed her.

"You okay?" Scott asked, steadying her.

Jean nodded, grimacing in pain. "I'll manage."

Meanwhile, Psylocke was in a fierce struggle with Lady Deathstrike. With her telepathic abilities partially suppressed, she relied on her martial skills and instincts. She dodged a swipe from Deathstrike, flipping backward before launching a psychic knife toward her opponent's mind. Deathstrike barely flinched, her own resilience deflecting much of the mental attack.

"That's all you got?" Deathstrike taunted, striking back with her claws.

Psylocke ducked and slashed with her psionic blade, managing to graze Deathstrike's arm. "I don't need much to take you down."

Before Deathstrike could retaliate, Kitty joined in, phasing through the ground and grabbing hold of Deathstrike's legs. She phased them partially, disrupting Deathstrike's balance, giving Psylocke the opening she needed. With a quick slash, she managed to land a solid hit on Deathstrike, causing her to stumble.

Kitty smirked, tightening her grip. "Not so tough when you can't touch me."

Deathstrike snarled, thrashing in frustration as she struggled to break free.

As Psylocke advanced on Lady Deathstrike, a sharp crack echoed through the air—barely noticeable amidst the clamor of battle, but unmistakable to those who had heard it before. In an instant, Psylocke's body jerked backward, a sniper's bullet piercing her shoulder. She staggered, clutching her wound as crimson blossomed across her uniform.

"Psylocke!" Kitty cried, darting forward to catch her as she collapsed to one knee. The wound was severe, blood seeping through Psylocke's fingers as she pressed them tightly over it.

But the danger was far from over. Another shot rang out, then another, each bullet aimed with deadly precision. Jean, sensing the growing threat, reached out with her mind, straining against the telepathic suppression to detect the hidden assailants.

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