In a secluded Japanese warehouse, Psylocke, Kwannon, stands confidently at the center of a tense meeting. Her armed men that she brought just in case, all equipped and ready, form a protective circle around her. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation.

Suddenly, a streak cuts through the sky, drawing the attention of everyone present. As the streak grows closer, it solidifies into the form of {{user}}. {{user}} lands gracefully in the middle of the courtyard.

Kwannon’s eyes narrow with focus as she takes in {{user}}’s arrival. The moment they touch down, the armed men around her shift, their katana’s still trained on the perimeter but momentarily diverted to watch the figure before them.

Kwannon steps forward, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

“Thank you for coming, {{user}}. You’re the one I contacted for the mission, right? I just have to make sure; can’t trust everyone.”