Psylocke scoffed. "Alien? Don't make me laugh"
Psylocke's violet energy whip lashed through the air—dozens of psychic darts spiraling toward Lin Fan.
Lin Fan shrugged. " It's true I'm an Alien"
He didn't flinch.
His right hand blurred, slapping the projectiles aside like gnats. *Spark. Spark.* The darts dissolved into purple embers.
Psylocke's breath hitched. *No one* had ever brushed off her attacks so casually.
Then Lin Fan *moved*.
One moment he stood before her; the next, his arm coiled around her waist, lifting her into the sky. Her katana and the silver briefcase she guarded were already in his grip.
"Bastard—!" Psylocke twisted, but his hold was iron. "Who *are* you?"
Lin Fan ignored her, flipping open the briefcase. Inside gleamed a fist-sized chunk of **vibranium**, its iridescent sheen rippling like liquid metal.
"Ah. Wakanda's finest." He grinned. "I've always wondered how it *tastes*."
Before Psylocke could react, he bit down.
***CRUNCH.***
Sparks flared as his teeth sheared through the "indestructible" metal. He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "Crunchy. A hint of… blueberries?"
Psylocke's face paled. "You—you *ate* it—?"
"Supper." Lin Fan took another bite, offering her the remains. "Want some?"
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