<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/575/243/large/jeehyung-lee-psylocke.jpg?1463288821)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Psylocke<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Danger Room<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 1st, 2017.  Early afternoon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Colossus, Wolverine, Legion, Cyclops, open<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Teasing.<br/><hr/><br/><br/>The walker from the locker room toward the Danger Room was one of remembrance.  Psylocke had not donned the custom armor of her past since she had come to the University.  She had not felt the layers of scaled armor work across her flesh or feel the subtle touch of padding against her skin.  Even the smell brought back memories of nightly raids and silent bloodletting.  The last time the armor had tasted blood had been when she plunged her ancient katana through the heart of Elizabeth Braddock.  That thought, that very image near rocked her back to her knees.  She stumbled in the hallway, pressing her forehead to the cool surface of the wall.  Black hair laced with purple swept forward to form an inky wall of silk.<br/><br/>Gloved fingers flexed against the surface.  The thin layers allowed her to feel the texture of the wall.  She could feel the crevices and flaws had there been any.  Designed to scale walls the gloves even bore settings for claws at the palm so that she could make near impossible entries.  A fist formed and then slammed into the wall.  Pain lanced up her limb to bring her back to this world.  Bring her away from the last moments of life for this uniform.  That moment when she heard the body of Elizabeth Braddock scream.  Psylocke could not bring herself to kill her own body, the flesh her friends and family of a life so long ago had known.  The death had been slow because she hesitated.  She remembered both her hands coming over the hilt of the katana to brace her weight.  She had leaned on the weapon instead of thrust it down.  Who could kill themselves so easily?<br/><br/>That thought made her smile and her hair whipped back from her face.  No tears or sorrow marred her features.  Psylocke was not that kind of woman.  Regret was for other people and she was not one of them.  The door slipped open at her entry.  Her only sound on entering the room where others gathered was that door.  Against the floor her feet padded without sound from habit and also from the slippers that covered her feet.  Treads of some unknown material kept her footing while also absorbing sound so that there simply was none to be had.  Those slippers rose upward to merge into the skin tight armor that covered her legs.  Thick and powerful her thighs flexed with each step she took guiding her in a strut over a simple walk.  Psylocke dared to command the very space around her with confidence that she was one of the most dangerous people present.<br/><br/>The armor ended just before her leotard began.  Her skin-tight material began once again though with some padding to keep at least something hidden from view.  A peek of her thighs was allowed, though a long red sash swung into view often enough to make the peak more tantalizing.  At her torso the material showed just how tightly it held to her body as the outline of muscles could be seen.  Then the outfit seemed to harden and rise upward to constrain her full breasts.  Once more a peak was allowed of her cleavage as the material was forced to open so that she could move and breathe.  Around her breasts the material moved upward to then form a collar at her neck and hold the ensemble in place.  At her rear the material extended down into a small extension to lay some protection across the powerful protrusion of her bottom.  Yet the rounded curve was hardly concealed from sight as she moved past.<br/><br/>Full lips still held their smirk when she glanced over those already assembled.  There seemed to be contempt there or perhaps just simple arrogance.  Psylocke held none of the nervousness or bravado of others.  Simply a quiet acknowledged of her abilities and an untold threat to any that challenged those skills.  A sultry, almost tempting voice slipped from between those lips.<strong>So are we doing teams or is this Battle Royale?</strong>The last two words spoken as her eyes flickered to the hulking figure of John.  She knew that image well as she had hunted him before and had been so close in landing her prey.<br/>