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Psylocke Vol 2 Ch 35: The Promise To Let Things Be, Next Stop Kayla
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 23:59:00 +0000 UTCThe hallway lights buzzed softly overhead as Naomi made her way through the compound, her steps quiet despite her towering form. In her hand
The hallway lights buzzed softly overhead as Naomi made her way through the compound, her steps quiet despite her towering form. In her hand, she still held Tristan — nestled peacefully on her palm, sound asleep. His tiny form shifted only slightly with each step she took, completely unaware of the world around him.
She arrived at Darcy's office, the door half-open, as usual. Naomi gently knocked with her knuckle against the doorframe.
Darcy didn't look up at first. She was surrounded by a fortress of paperwork, red-taped folders and glowing tablets stacked up in messy towers. A mug of what had to be her fifth cup of coffee sat half-drunk on the corner of the desk.
"Come in," Darcy muttered without lifting her eyes.
Naomi stepped inside, pausing just before the desk.
"It's done," she said plainly, her voice neutral as ever. "Tristan passed."
That got Darcy's attention. Her eyes flicked up toward Naomi, curiosity lighting in their depths.
"He found the energy orb. Chose the right one," Naomi continued. "He's asleep now. Dead tired. But he made it."
Darcy leaned back in her chair with a slow, approving smile. "Well then... congratulations. I knew you could get it done."
Naomi remained still for a moment. Then her eyes dropped to the floor.
"He never gave up," she said quietly. "No matter how many times it happened. I stopped counting after fifty... but it had to be close to a hundred by now."
There was a softness in her voice that hadn't been there before.
Darcy smirked. "What's this?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Has the cold-hearted Naomi finally fallen for someone?"
Naomi's expression didn't change much, but her brow twitched slightly — a small tic of annoyance. "No. I'm just impressed. That's all," she said curtly.
Darcy chuckled. "Uh-huh."
There was a beat of silence between them, broken only by the soft hum of the overhead light.
Naomi shifted, lowering her hand and allowing Tristan to rest gently on a small padded tray nearby.
"What's next for him?" she asked.
Darcy's smile faded, replaced by a quiet sigh. She reached for a folder and opened it, scanning the contents before speaking. "I'd like to let him rest... but I doubt we'll get that luxury. The higher-ups have already started making noise."
Naomi's jaw tightened. "So soon?"
Darcy gave a slow nod. "They want to see progress. They want results."
She flipped the folder closed and set it aside.
"Next stop: Kayla."
Naomi's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see..."
She turned to go, her boots making no sound on the smooth floor. But just as she reached the doorway, Darcy's voice cut through the silence.
"Naomi."
She paused without turning around.
"I know how you feel," Darcy said, her voice calm but firm. "But don't interfere with his training. Not with Kayla."
A long silence. Then:
"...Understood," Naomi said simply, before walking out of the room.
Darcy exhaled and leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. Her gaze drifted toward the tray where Tristan slept, blissfully unaware of what was coming next.
"I'm sorry, Tristan," she murmured softly. "But psychic powers won't save you this time."
She closed her eyes for a moment before returning to her paperwork. Somewhere down the hall, the lights flickered again.
***
Ugh... my head.
That was the first thought that groaned through my skull as I stirred awake. I wasn't even fully upright yet, and already I could feel it — that familiar, pounding ache in the back of my brain. Like someone had stuffed my skull with rocks and then decided to shake it around for fun.
I squinted through blurry eyes, expecting to see the soft fabric of my bunk or maybe Naomi's big wooden table, but instead...
"Why does my bed feel like a countertop?"
I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and blinked again.
It wasn't a bed. It was smooth. Cool. White.
"What the..."
I slowly turned my head, and that's when it hit me — I wasn't anywhere familiar. I was surrounded by darkness, with faint shapes looming all around. Towering, miles-high white walls surrounded me on every side, clean and slick like porcelain. But above those?
Another wall. A transparent one that stretched so high I couldn't see the top — like a vertical ocean of glass.
To my right, embedded into the white wall, was something metallic. Something familiar.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Wait a minute... is that a faucet?"
And then, it clicked.
My stomach dropped before the rumbling even started.
A deep quake rolled under me like thunder in the bones. The very air trembled. The once-silent chamber began to buzz with something... bigger.
"Oh no," I whispered, already getting down on all fours as the shaking grew violent — no point trying to stand. Not unless I wanted to be flung like a pebble.
Then — FLASH.
A searing white light exploded across the sky. It wasn't the sun. It was artificial — colder, brighter, sterile. My eyes burned instantly, watering as I squinted and threw up my arms. My ears rang with a rising roar, a distant mechanical whirrrrr and the dull impact of something — someone — approaching.
And then I saw her.
First, a blurry outline. Then... more.
The glass wall on one end began to slide open, pulled aside like a curtain. And she stepped through.
Even through the distortion of light and scale, my body went cold.
She was a Brob.
Naked.
Fully, unapologetically, incomprehensibly nude.
"Oh, shit."
It all made sense now — the porcelain, the walls, the faucet, the shape of the space.
I was in a bathtub.
And she had just walked in.
Each of her steps hit like an asteroid. The whole tub vibrated under me with every footfall. The shockwaves didn't just make the ground tremble — they made the air feel wrong. Like even oxygen was trying to escape her presence.
She stepped over the white rim of the tub with one towering leg — a graceful, godlike motion — and her foot came down somewhere off to my left. Even that gentle landing shook me like a leaf. I clutched the slick floor beneath me, my palms clammy, my eyes glued to the monolith of flesh that was now standing in the tub with me.
Her thighs were mountain ranges.
Her torso stretched higher than any building I'd ever seen.
Her face... I couldn't even see it properly. It was hidden in the light, partially blurred by the height and sheer scale of her body. A living tower of skin and curves and gravity-defying nightmare fuel.
And I was smack in the middle of her bathtub.
"This has gotta be illegal somewhere," I muttered, utterly stunned.
My thoughts were spinning. Who was this? Was this a new training scenario? A mistake? A punishment?
No, no, this had to be another one of Naomi's illusions, right?
Right?
My heart hammered against my ribs as the Brob began to turn slightly, the motion of her body sending a gust of warm air rolling across the porcelain plains. I braced myself again — knees wobbling, arms still aching — and slowly backed away from the center.
"This is fine," I told myself, breath shaky. "This is okay. Totally fine. I'll just... find a drain or something and hide there. She won't even notice—"
Then her gaze dropped.
I couldn't see her eyes, but I felt it.
She'd seen me.
And from the way her titanic shoulders subtly shifted... I was pretty sure she was smiling.
"Please tell me you're at least gonna turn the water on first," I whispered, staring up at the Brob whose bath I had somehow become a part of.
Because if she wasn't here to wash up...
I was in serious trouble.
