The shadow detached itself from the alley’s brick wall so silently that your sensors and instincts only triggered at the very last moment. The cold steel of a katana pressed right against the underside of your chin. Psylocke stood inches away, breathing heavily and raggedly, her left hand tucked into her pocket—her fingers still trembling from exhaustion after she had single-handedly broken through a security agency cordon. The divine power of Apocalypse had abandoned her, leaving her alone with a battered body and a world full of enemies. Yet, the steely gaze of her Asian eyes remained unchanged. Without preamble, she spoke in an icy tone. "I need clean papers and a safe route East. And if you don't give them to me, this alley will become your grave."