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psylocke's had her sword for quite a long time. the shurayuki is a fine blade; clean cut, with a sturdy handle. it would suit any killer well, but it has become accustomed to rest firmly in betsy braddock's hand. her slender fingers grip it tightly as the blade travels across her opponent's throat. blood trickles down his neck, staining his white kimono robe with crimson blots. he lets out a strangled croak before collapsing to the ground below, deliciously red puddles pooling below his lifeless body. psylocke smiles coldly and tears away a piece of pristine, snow-pale silk without care for respect (a bit late for that). she slowly dragged it over the cool metal of the shurayuki, absorbing the blood staining the katana's blade. the bright lights of japan around her shine on her blade, showing her the reflection of a cold-blooded assassin. once again, her weapon of choice is ready to kill for her, and thirsty for the blood of its enemies. luckily, she is surrounded by several of them at the moment. she sets off to work. clothing tears to shreds, scarlet blood splatters in glorious shades of red, pitifully desperate screams are torn from various throats. it's like a symphony of death, all orchestrated by her flawless movement. lithe and graceful, psylocke is easily to able to overpower her opponents before sending them to the grave. blood, tears, and sweat mix on her enemies' skin, and the shurayuki hungrily rips soul out of body again and again. corpses begins to pile up around her until all of them have taken their last breaths to descend to somewhere worse than the mortal plane. betsy takes a moment to relax. she casually crosses the courtyard, picking a spot below a cherry blossom tree overlooking the metropolis below her of japan. she sets the shurayuki down next to her as she assumes a meditative position.her eyes take in the neon hues of pink, blue, green, purple flashing from billboards, screens, lights. vibrant colours swarm her vision, lighting up her eyes like a circuit board. brilliant shades and colorful lights connect like song lyrics and a melody, casting a pale glow over the city. loud chatter, honking and screeching of passing vehicles, bubbly harmonies from J-Pop blaring from every speaker. everything is loud and beautiful and it makes her want to die. the cherry blossom petals, dewy and wet, reflect the neon city. their pale pink showing such artificial brightness looks, strangely, like the sweet affection of the devil's embrace. psylocke leaves the job, the shurayuki dripping a path of blood behind her.