Outskirts

That piquied Psycho's interest. Indeed, the sight of the boy's angst and pain as he held the dead, ruined, broken body of his mother would have brought a twisted pleasure to Psycho. Then a memory returned to him...a day, long ago, one a young boy, his face and entire body bleeding profusely, sobbing over the remains of what had once been a human--crushed, ripped, torn, barely recognisable...

A nearby signpost ripped itself from the ground, and began to smash itself repeatedly into the ground. After a moment, it bent in half gradually, and snapped, and the two ends flew apart like high power magnets. Psycho gave a sigh as his anger receded. Whenever that image returned to his mind, he burst out in a rage of violence. He turned back to Lycan as if nothing had ever happened, and smirked sadistically behind his gas mask. "And where does his mother live?"

Psycho smirked. "And you're not lying to me either--interesting to say the least, my canine comrade." He flashed another sadistic smirk, and let out a cruel laugh. If the shapeshifter had any tricks up his sleeve, Psycho would know it. But he showed no sign of knowing if Lycan had any tricks or traps planned. "Well I believe I'll pay the poor woman a visit...have a good night," he sniggered wickedly before bursting across the air.

Half an hour or so later, Psycho was drifting right outside the house. Indeed it was rather secluded. He had hardly been seen by anyone, and anyone who had seen him, walked away believing they had seen a rather interesting looking cloud--a simple enough trick for Psycho to implant that kind of thought in their heads, and on a night like this it wasn't too hard to mistake things like that. Psycho peered into the house through one of the windows, where a light was shining out of. It appeared she was sitting at her bed, reading. "Ah, pity for the boy," he murmured to himself before the window simply removed itself from the windowpane and settled down on the ground. The woman turned and, seeing Psycho, opened her mouth to scream--but the sound never left her lips.

Within an hour, Psycho was long gone. The entire house was in shambles--furniture was overthrown, the walls had holes and the paint was slashed and peeling. And on the bed, with a book laid on her chest--Psycho had been considerate enough to save the page she was on--was the body. There were several slashes, gashes, and bruises across the face and body, so many it was hardly recognisable. And on the back of her neck, carved into the flesh, was a tribal-style gas mask.

A muffled sigh resounded through the shack; a glass cup flew across the room and smashed at the wall. Floating on one end of the room, as if he were lying down on an invisible bed, Psycho drifted around, his arms behind his head. "Damn, I'm bored..." The shack was in a terrible state; it looked as if armed soldiers had come into the shack with the intent of completely ruining it, and had done their job well. The windows had been long smashed out; there were holes smashed in the wall, the little furniture there was left was utterly destroyed. It was far out of the way, and only the most determined person would actually find it on purpose. Such a person would probably know Psycho was there anyway. Psycho came here occassionally, on the off chance that he actually wanted to sleep, or if he just needed a place to hide out every now and then. It also acted as his own wrecking area, and when he was bored he would throw something, or smash the walls.

Psycho moved into a standing position while remaining in the air, and the door--barely hanging onto the hinges in the first place--swung open. He drifted out, and enjoyed the cool night air. Psycho had always preferred the coolness of night to the heat of the day...he turned to glance back at Los Angeles. "Don't worry, LA..." he sniggered cruelly. "I'm coming for you. I'm just going to swat down a few mutant kids on the way."

In the distance, a pair of headlights suddenly disturbed the peace of the night that Psycho had been enjoying. The darkness was beginning to dissipate, of course, but he was still irritated. "It seems I have a visitor...it can only be one person." Lycan was one of the few people--and, perhaps, the only one still alive--who knew of the shack as one of Psycho's 'haunts'. Indeed, when Psycho threw his power towards the buggy approaching, the thoughts told him that it was indeed Lycan, and another mutant. Well, if Lycan had anything planned, Psycho was ready for him...several objects that could be used as weapons were hidden around and within the shack, some even buried under the desert terrain like bouncing betty mines. The deadliest of these were six explosive propane tanks buried under the ground, which Psycho could easily unearth, hurl, and explode with enough power to destroy anything close enough to it.

As the buggy approach, Psycho greeted Lycan by hurling a massive boulder right at the buggy. It was, of course, not a hostile action--having been in contact with Psycho as long as he had, Lycan was probably used to Psycho's style of introduction. Psycho approached the buggy. "Well, what an unexpected guest," he said with a cunning smirk. "Something you need?"

"I did indeed; you should have seen it!" Psycho cackled sadistically, clearly brightening up at the memory. "The way I left her, the boy probably couldn't tell who she was for a few minutes! The house looked like a little war had happened in there! Of course, you are not as I am," Psycho turned back to Lycan. "So you would not be able to appreciate the scene."

Many had often wondered how Psycho became the twisted, inhumane, sadistic, psychotic creature he was, the evil thing that, it seemed, had once been human. That was an event that Psycho kept to himself, and told no one.

Psycho gave a cruel chuckle as he bobbed up and down in the air. "Ah, you know me too well, my lupine friend. Thinking of the pain the boy will go through at losing his other parent...I can feel the blood already." However, Psycho got the feeling Lycan knew more than he was letting on, or something along those lines. He slowly, carefully began to delve into Lycan's mind, barely touching it so that he would not be detected. And it was true; Psycho could not learn more without delving further, but Lycan had an ulterior motive to this--Lycan was planning something. But Psycho said nothing, and merely gave another wicked laugh. "You can run along, my canine comrade. I will crush the man's head into a paste!" Psycho waited until Lycan turned away to leave, and then focused his attention at the spot almost right under Lycan, his face--as far as could be told past the gas mask--remaining turned to the other mutant. There, deep under the ground, a propane tank was slowly rising. Psycho would get to Romeo's father soon, but if Lycan was planning something involving Psycho, Psycho would make sure it did not come to fruition--and that meant that Lycan would not be returning to his dear little resistance in one piece.

"You seem to have forgotten psychokinesis is not my only power!" Psycho snarled wickedly. "Do you think I could not tell you were planning something by this attack? Though I will, of course, not pass up the chance to slaughter the boy's father. I am afraid you will not be able to defeat me, especially not here. This is essentially my fortress even if you cannot see it!"

At that moment, Psycho attacked Golem's mind, assaulting it and replacing loyalty to Lycan with a furious hatred of him; essentially, turning Golem on his former ally. As Golem prepared to attack Lycan, various objects began to unearth themselves; metal bars with cruelly sharpened tips; a number of knives and daggers. Cackling uncontrollably, Psycho launched five sharpened bars of metal at Lycan, tailing the werewolf like missiles.

"Who do you think you're fooling, my dear canine?" Psycho sighed dramatically and shook his head. "You seem to forget that telepathy is one of my many powers. Your intentions are completely known to me." As Psycho spoke, a small dagger was coming up behind Lycan, aimed right for the back of his neck. Meanwhile, the mutant known as Golem was beginning to recover from Psycho's brainwashing. Psycho cursed and threw even more power into his attack on the mutant's mind, tearing the loyalty to Lycan right out, replacing it with a murderous, furious hatred of his former leader--enough to last as long as Psycho desired.

"Ah, I do like to hear myself being complimented," Psycho cackled when Lycan referred to him as a crazy Russian. "I'm quite disappointed in your taste, however, my lupine opponent...to think you would entrust a hunkering, moronic brute of stone with anything!" he lifted the body of Golem and with a wicked laugh hurled it at Lycan. "You've gotten desperate, I imagine. MTD's putting on a bit too much pressure for our feral friend here, are they? But being up in the air won't help you..." Psycho threw his power at Lycan, and forced him back to the ground with enough force to smash him down, breaking bones. "But look! I believe our dear friend the general is passing over us." Psycho began rising into the air, and now he was looking far down at Lycan.

When the lifeless form of Golem came rising up towards him Lycan simply reached out and caught him with one arm. After living with his mutation all his life he had developed high levels of strength from all of his animal forms. He was about to toss the body aside when Psycho started to force him down to the ground.

"My friend, do you really think that, over he years, I would not have learned from my mistakes in dealing with you?" As he came towards the ground Lycan shifts forms, turning into a tortious/armadillo creature just before he hits. He leaves a hug crator, but no real damage is done. As he grows wings and flies back up he tosses the huge dead body aside, using this action to gain momentum and catching up to Psycho a little sooner.

When he gets close enough he shrinks down in size to that of a small rattle snake with a unique pattern that, once he turns into the rising sun, he become nearly invisable. He still has tiny wings and use them to propel himself towards Psycho like a poisonout spear, aiming to bit his ankle.

Psycho felt a slight pinching, and then a more powerful, sharp, stinging pain and looked down to see the snake biting into the ankle of his boot. Snarling viciously, Psycho removed the snake from him and flung it to the ground, not caring if it landed or not.

"Well, that hurt...a bit," he hissed, smirking behind his gas mask. "But not enough to stop me. You should have seen this coming, my old ally....surely you would have expected this." With those words, he launched a full on, merciless assault on Lycan's mind. Psycho wasn't aiming to control him, or cause him pain; he was aiming to outright kill the mutant's brain. It would be difficult, given their very close power levels, but Psycho was confident in his power.

Psycho looked down at the convulsing body of the old mutant, and, throwing his head back, let out a menacing laugh that quickly cut off. Lycan was still alive, but he wouldn't be for long. Left alone, lying on the desert sands, Lycan would eventually fade into death, slowly and soundlessly. Psycho could have simply impaled him with some nearby object, but the thought of the leader of the mutant revolution laying there, dying, helpless, powerless, was too appealing; it quickly overpowered all other logic.

Psycho turned away from the mutant, and looked out in the distance. "There's a nice little town out there, I hear..." he murmured to himself. "With a nice, big mall that everyone goes to...hundreds of people..." he couldn't help but begin laughing uncontrollably at the thought. "And maybe I'll run into some old friends...I think I'll make a detour at the mall..." With a single burst of midair speed, he began moving towards the town.