I'm not the same today as I was yesterday... and yesterday I was nothing at all, hic!
A chimera's reflections over a glass of wine.
***********************
Walter Mayer.
Nothing interesting seemed likely to happen in the immediate future, so I could concentrate on analyzing the new samples. Where should I begin? Hm. Perhaps with this interesting trait. A small sphere of blood floated before me. The liquid had attracted my attention for several reasons. All the other samples had belonged to creatures sixteen to twenty years old. This one came from a woman between thirty-five and forty.
Its apparent property was particularly delicious: almost complete immunity to physical force. More precisely, the creature's skin and bones were saturated with energy and altered so that their structure rivaled the most elaborate titanium alloy in strength. Natural adamant?
How had Silvermane obtained this sample? Though if the woman was of reproductive age... No. I did not want to think about that. More importantly, I had begun constructing a theory.
Mutants who operated through pure physics—muscular strength and modified physiology alone—were the weakest of all. Consider Rhino, Scorpion, or even Spider-Man. Their speed and strength were impressive, certainly, but none displayed anything truly transcendent. Without one detail, I would not be far above them myself.
Energy.
I possessed enough energy to maintain my muscles at maximum output without harming the organism, plus Symba's healing factor. But I still could not manipulate energy directly, even though that was clearly the next stage of evolution. Who had claimed that all biological life would sooner or later acquire an energetic foundation?
Returning to the sample that interested me so much, I was observing a transitional form. Its foundation remained biological, but it already worked actively with energy. Not consciously, admittedly. The process was entirely instinctive and directed toward maximum protection and survivability. Still delicious.
I had already collected the DNA required to begin the transformation. As with blood control, the work would be delicate and complicated, but not monumental—especially compared with the first time. This blood also resembled mine slightly, at least energetically. Since my blood contained my entire informational component, perhaps the sample carried something similar?
Let us try.
I concentrated and affected the blood, but rather than trying to reshape the sample to match myself, I adjusted myself to the sample while still remaining myself. The state was difficult to describe. Human languages simply lacked the necessary words and concepts. Try explaining the color red and its fundamental difference from green to someone blind from birth.
Difficult? Then you understand why describing nonhuman senses in human language was equally difficult for me. Then the visions arrived. They came with the full 'presence effect' that cinemas liked to advertise. The stream of images was disordered, but it included not only sight and sound, but touch and emotion as well.
*************************
Walter's Visions.
I am sixteen.
The children at school torment me constantly, as though an alcoholic father and a completely indifferent mother are not enough. Pain and humiliation. Humiliation and pain. Hatred.
I am nineteen.
My grandmother dies of a heart attack. She was the only person who ever cared about me. I try to cut the veins in my wrists, but nothing happens. Not even a scratch remains. Surprise.
Twenty-three years old.
My first contract: eliminate a group of rebels. They shoot me. It tickles. People are so fragile. I drive my bare hand through the nearest idiot holding a rifle and look into his eyes. Terror and fear fill them. Mine once looked the same. Now I understand why people tormented me. Seeing fear and despair in another person's eyes feels good. There is the leader of these failures. He begs me to leave his people alive. I break his arms and legs. He does not scream, but only for now. I amuse myself with the others. Their screams and deaths lift my mood wonderfully. When only their former leader remains alive, I feel like talking.
"You know, we live in a very interesting world. Everyone must have a victim, and it is the Strong's right to own the Weak. What do you think? How does it feel to be Weak?"
Only wheezing and strangled curses answer me.
"You're boring. You won't even speak. Oh well. I still have a manicure appointment today, and instead I have to waste time on you."
An army boot crushes the last survivor's throat. The satisfied mercenary returns to base, whistling softly.
Thirty-two years old.
"Kimura, I have an interesting proposal for you. It suits your particular talents."
A man of about fifty stands before me in a traditional white doctor's coat.
"And what exactly are you offering, Rice?"
This man always found good work and paid generously. Working for him was pleasant.
"I need... a trainer."
"A trainer? Are you opening a circus of freaks?"
"Something like that," the scientist says with a smirk. "Would you like to see?"
"Of course."
They show me a girl who appears seven or eight years old. Long black hair, green eyes, and a pretty little face. And that look... How long has it been since I saw eyes like those? I lick my lips without meaning to.
"I need her turned into the perfect weapon. No feelings. No emotions. Obedient and utterly reliable. Your... educational methods are impressive. Will you take the assignment?"
"Oh, yes."
Thirty-six years old.
"You little filth! How dare you cry?!"
A heavy army boot strikes her face. Bones crack.
"That was only an instructor, X-23. An ordinary little human."
Every word comes with another blow. The girl does not resist. They taught that out of her long ago. But her reactions... I have worked on her for four years, and she is still far too human. Mm. A victim. My perfect victim. I can play with her for a very long time. Every injury heals almost instantly. I seize her by the hair and drag her to the isolation cell built especially for her.
"A couple of days without food or water will help you understand the depth of your mistake, Twenty-Three."
I throw her into the room with all my strength. She slides down the wall so amusingly.
****************************
End of Visions.
I returned to myself and struggled upright on trembling arms. When had I fallen to the floor? I did not remember. The image of a fragile young woman—more a girl, really—remained before my eyes. She had spent several years living in her own private Hell. So did the faces of the creatures who tormented her every day.
Dr. Rice and Kimura.
At the thought of those two, I nearly dropped into combat mode. I was no saint, and for the most part I did not care about strangers. But tormenting a defenseless child? That creature had enjoyed it. Perhaps I was overly romantic or too sympathetic to the 'Dark Side of the Force,' but I suspected even among Lesser Demons one would have to search hard to find anything like her.
I had not discovered where the child was held, but I possessed the bastards' names—and Curt had acquaintances. I wanted to abandon everything, rush to Silvermane, and beat out of him every scrap he knew about the mercenary Kimura. Common sense and combat mode—I had entered it after all, or I would have demolished my own home—both advised against acting rashly.
If the monsters went underground, finding them would become far harder. Oh, I already looked forward to meeting them. Personal cauldrons probably awaited both in the afterlife. No. Better not leave that to chance. I would give them Hell while they were still alive.
A wave of hatred rose from the depths of my being and spilled outward. The study's windows cracked. Several cups shattered somewhere in the kitchen.
"Walter, calm down. Get hold of yourself. This is not the time to lose control. Distract yourself with something else. Examine the remaining samples, then visit Silvermane for answers."
Calming down was difficult and took a long time. I processed the other blood samples quickly and almost routinely, memorizing all the DNA variations. Flight—I already had it. External tissue transformation—unnecessary. Muscular changes for stronger jumps—useless. Emitting light in darkness? What kind of mutation was that? No. Absolutely not.
Silvermane had failed to acquire any true 'energy-users.' Ordinary physical mutants could no longer offer me anything fundamentally new. Though the modification involving an extensible tongue might prove useful under certain circumstances, if you understand what I mean.
Now for the transformation. However much I hated the ability's source, refusing practically impenetrable skin would have been idiotic. After my experiments with blood, the required changes came quickly. I remained far from controlling every cell as completely as I did in my 'main' body, and I still could not reach a state of pure energy. Even so, progress in mastering less exalted matters delighted me beyond measure. There was one drawback. I would have to drink my adrenaline or find a Mega-Needle. No ordinary syringe could pierce the new skin. Fortunately, I remembered my retractable blades and left several unprotected points.
Good. Now to Silvermane. Wait. What the hell was that? Something incomprehensible crawled across the neighboring building, equipped with tentacles, claws, and either six or eight limbs. It looked unhealthy and sounded depressed. Why else would it be screaming so loudly? Peter circled around it, trying to pull an innocent maiden from its slimy tentacles. The monster had presumably abducted her recently. A psychedelic scene, I must say. And what was that? A girl jumped from an unusually shaped aircraft on a cable. Hm. Dark hair with a white streak through the center. Rogue? I thought she could fly on her own. Or did that ability appear later?
Who cared? It would be unfortunate if she smashed herself against the ground. Before meeting Felicia, I had seriously considered trying to court her. Such thoughts still appeared occasionally, though I suspected Miss Hardy was not an admirer of polygamy. I assumed the Nazgûl form and left the building.
***********************
Several hours earlier. Silvermane's office.
A forty-year-old man sat before a desk occupied by someone who appeared thirty but possessed completely white hair. Imagine. He was actually over eighty. Had he truly discovered a fountain of youth? How interesting. The forty-year-old addressed Silvermane.
"What exactly do you wish to hire me for?"
"Alfred," the former old man said with a smirk, "I require your services to infiltrate a certain facility. According to reliable sources, an interesting picture has emerged. Herbert Landon, a fairly famous geneticist, has apparently accepted a contract to create an army of mutants for Kingpin. I find that unacceptable."
Silvermane leaned back.
"Your task is to verify the information. If it proves correct, destroy all of the research by any means necessary. Copy it if you can. If not, erase the data. One more thing: if the information is confirmed, arrange an accident for Landon. A fatal outcome is optional, but I leave that to your judgment. That is all."
The man called Alfred considered the assignment.
"Twenty thousand for reconnaissance alone. One and a half million if the full operation is required. Payment in advance."
Silvermane handed him a case containing the stated amount. The mercenary raised an eyebrow.
"You are paying for the full service immediately. Are you that certain of your informant?"
Silvermane nodded. The man rose and left without saying goodbye.
***********************
'Alfred,' mercenary.
An intriguing assignment. Infiltrate a well-guarded facility, steal data from its computers, and punish one individual. It would be difficult, but the contract had been accepted and the money received. No whining, mercenary. Forward. Nothing was easier than entering a heavily guarded laboratory.
His partner had somehow acquired a complete plan of the building, the guards' patrol schedule, and a list of companies servicing the facility. It was protected, certainly, but not military—though judging by the guards' weapons, no one had informed them of that fact.
An ordinary garbage truck therefore served as an excellent pass. Riding beneath its chassis and breathing exhaust fumes had been unpleasant, but still preferable to a frontal assault. The rest was technical work.
Reaching the server presented no difficulty. The hard drives proved too massive to remove, but that possibility had been anticipated, so he immediately connected a powerful satellite modem to the computer.
His combat companion handled everything else. He had not rescued her from that particularly ugly situation years ago for nothing. Half an hour later, the data had safely reached its destination. Meanwhile, a program launched by 'Mouse' began formatting the stolen server's drives. Blowing the servers up would have guaranteed the result, but it would also create unnecessary noise and evidence.
Only the 'accident' remained. Landon should be somewhere in his laboratory. Time to visit.
Ten minutes and three unconscious guards later.
Ah. Landon stood on a balcony explaining something to an enormous blue gorilla in a cage. Beneath the cage was a reservoir containing something suspiciously similar to acid. Then the alarm sounded. Had they discovered the unconscious guards? I must be getting old.
No. Some creature in a dark-blue suit and mask had simply smashed through the door. Three metal blades extended from each of its fists. A clown in red and blue followed it into the hall—an agile clown, admittedly, who fired his little ropes with admirable accuracy.
While everyone was distracted by the new participants, I could complete my assignment in peace. I crept up behind the mildly shocked scientist and kicked him into flight—straight into the vat of acid. Time to leave.
Several minutes after the mercenary's retreat, a repulsive creature crawled out of the tank. It resembled a horrifying mixture of slug, octopus, and human. Wolverine and Spider-Man had only just freed their companion from the cage and were not prepared for such a development. They completely missed the moment when the creature seized Landon's assistant, caused a short circuit in the laboratory's wiring, broke through the wall, and crawled into the city.
******************************
Spider-Man and Company. Immediately after the new mutant escaped.
"What was that?"
Wolverine scratched the back of his head with the tip of one claw.
"Landon, I believe," Beast answered thoughtfully. "Incidentally, thank you for the rescue. A few more minutes and they would have lowered me into that soup."
"What do we do? We can't let a creature like that wander through the city!"
Spider-Man, as always, was playing Captain America.
"Wolverine, contact the others. We shall require assistance. The creature is attracted to electricity, perhaps drawn by strong electromagnetic fields. It also appeared to become larger and stronger after the laboratory short circuit."
"If it reaches the power station..."
"Things will become extremely unpleasant. We need to deprive it of energy. Logan, we need Rogue." Hank had found what he considered the only correct solution.
"She's only eighteen! Have a conscience, Blue! This is damn dangerous!" Wolverine disliked the idea of sending his student into the front line.
"If you have another solution, I am listening."
Logan ground his teeth and contacted the school. The Professor was no more enthusiastic about using the girl, but no alternative existed. Xavier ultimately undertook to persuade Rogue himself. It required effort, but the lives of thousands of people in the city mattered more than one young woman's fear.
A plan was assembled. While Spider-Man and the others distracted the monster, Rogue would land on its back and embrace it enthusiastically until Landon lost the ability to move. It was not a good plan, but they had nothing else. The creature moved ever closer to the power station, 'snacking' on underground electrical cables as it went.
Then It happened.
A mental blow of monstrous power forced almost everyone present to their knees, hands clutching their heads. Even Charles was shocked by its intensity. Rage and hatred filled the descending force. The desire to kill could probably be felt twenty-five miles from the epicenter.
The X-Men stood directly inside that epicenter. It ended as suddenly as it began. Only the cracked windows of nearby buildings proved that it had truly happened.
"W-what was that?" Cyclops whispered with a slight stammer. "A new trick from this creature?"
"No, it was not," Beast answered, shuddering nervously. "But I would prefer never to meet a being that hates all life so intensely."
"We shall address problems in order," Hank continued, recovering quickly. "Landon comes first. Look—the attack affected him badly too."
He pointed toward the monster. It had changed direction and was now climbing a skyscraper for some reason.
"Very well. We begin. Rogue, are you ready?"
"No. But what difference does that make?"
The young woman was shaking violently.
"Spider-Man and Cyclops, take your positions. Wolverine, cover Cyclops. May God help us."
Charles finished the instructions, and the operation began. Everything went wrong from the first seconds. Anna—Rogue—jumped onto the monster with a scream. It simply struck at her with a tentacle and missed slightly. The student herself passed by, but the safety cable did not.
The line could not endure such treatment. It snapped with a mournful twang, throwing the young mutant away from the monster. There was nothing to grasp. Gravity remained in force, and the girl began her final flight—one hundred feet toward the roadway below. Spider-Man was too far away and simply could not reach her.
'This is it,' the falling girl thought sadly. 'I never managed to do anything with my life. I've only even kissed someone once.'
Rogue squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact that would end her existence. Instead, something wrapped around her carefully, and oceans of energy began pouring into her body.
****************
Walter Mayer. Nazgûl.
Whew. Barely in time. What idiot had decided to throw attractive young women with interesting abilities onto this monster? Speaking of abilities, Rogue was an incredibly powerful energy vampire. Energy poured out of me despite all Symba's resistance. Fortunately, even with every upgrade inside my carcass, their consumption was insignificant compared with Venom's capacity. I showed no sign of collapsing as a dried mummy, though the increased drain lowered the temperature of the surrounding air by approximately nine degrees Fahrenheit.
"You should know, my lady, that flying without authorization is forbidden."
I could not resist. I kept my voice close to its natural form—a soft baritone rather than metal filled with arctic cold. The girl opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again. Understandable. Imagine saying farewell to life, preparing for the afterlife, closing your eyes, and then opening them to discover that a faceless figure in black robes was holding you.
Eventually, Rogue gathered her courage and cracked one eye open.
"Am I already dead and in Hell?" she asked timidly.
"Is there a reason you should be?"
Damn. She delighted me beyond reason. I wanted to hug her and squeeze her and squeeze her. Such cuteness.
"In any event, as a respectable man—who must now marry you—I could not allow such beauty to leave this world in the flower of youth. You remain among the living."
"Huh?"
Apparently, people did not often compliment her. Meanwhile, I continued descending. Then she noticed the power flowing into her and tried to pull away. Who was going to let her?
"Stop! You could die! No one can touch me!"
I had been 'touching' her for two minutes already, but apparently that did not count. I held her more tightly and drew her face toward mine. No. I could not resist. Hopefully Felicia would never learn of this innocent prank. Using Chameleon's cells, I altered my features slightly, removed the beard, and changed my hair from black to milk-white. Then I withdrew the mask and allowed her to see my face. I whispered softly into her ear.
"Only I decide what I can and cannot do, young lady. But I see your friends are almost here, which means it is time for me to take my leave. First, however..."
I leaned down and kissed the student, stunned by such treatment, teasing her with my tongue. Hm. The tongue enhancement definitely had its uses. While combining pleasure with practical benefit, I finally obtained some understanding of her genome. Dead skin cells had been useless—they were drained completely dry. This method, however, allowed me to gather something. Her power was most intriguing. Hm. She had been in contact with me for three minutes already. I thought it would work. I allowed her to take a little more energy. That should be enough. I drew away from Anna Marie. Why did they all possess such elaborate names? Why not simply Anna or Mary?
"As you can see, I remain alive. I believe you will enjoy my small gift."
I smiled. Correct. The girl lost consciousness. It seemed I had not been mistaken. I placed her carefully on the asphalt and concealed my face behind the mask once more. Time to go. They refused to let me leave peacefully.
"What did you do to her, you bastard?!"
Who was so impudent? Ah. Logan. Who else?
"I saved her life and left her a gift. Better than throwing defenseless children onto monsters, don't you think?" The icy voice hissed. "But you will answer for calling me a bastard."
Mm. He almost dodged. Excellent reflexes, though not quite enough. Blood stained my plate gauntlet. The cuts across Wolverine's chest closed almost instantly. A delicious healing factor. Combined with the costume's possibilities, simply delightful.
"You—"
The mutant tried to impale me on his blades. I did not even consider evading. When else would I have an opportunity to test my new armor against such a weapon? Impact. Scrape. The claws slid helplessly away without causing meaningful damage, though the force of the blow threw me into the air. Hm. I had no further business here, and Silvermane was waiting. I withdrew from the fight by the simple method of flying away, leaving Logan cursing below. Oh. I had never heard that particular construction. Apparently English could support some truly impressive profanity too.
I nearly forgot. I passed the monster on my way out. Yes. Monstrously altered, but still blood. I used the simplest technique, which I had named 'Similarity.' The victim's blood began behaving exactly as mine did. Then I stopped my own circulation. How long could a brain survive under those conditions? Five minutes, perhaps? And how long could consciousness remain? The monster collapsed almost immediately.
I broke the connection and escaped the battlefield. I had performed enough heroics for one day. There was also much to consider. So many tasks, and I had to handle every one personally. I hope Federico would return with reinforcements soon enough.