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FIC: The Weapon 1/12

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  • rimmette@earthlink.net
    Ok, this is the last you ll be hearing from me for a while. Sorry to overflow your mailboxes. I ve been trying to spread this out, but I don t think you d
    Message 1 of 1 , May 1, 2001
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      Ok, this is the last you'll be hearing from me for a while. Sorry to
      overflow your mailboxes. I've been trying to spread this out, but I
      don't think you'd appreciate being left at a cliffhanger, so I've
      kept the stories relatively together. Again, if you've already read
      this story, sorry.

      Title: The Weapon
      Author: Khaki
      E-Mail: rimmette@...
      Category: Drama/Fluff/Angst
      Rating: PG13 (for violence and medical scenes)
      Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would be a series of X-Men novels,
      written by science fiction authors, based on the movie, and available
      in all fine bookstores and most really bad bookstores, too. I don't.
      Archive Rights: WRFA, XMMFFC, otherwise, just ask.
      Summary: What became of Logan two years after the movie?

      WARNING: Character death. Yep, I got a taste of it in the last
      story, and I like it. However, unlike the last death story, this one
      will end with you feeling pretty ok.


      A stealthy figure approached the quiet mansion, his black fatigues
      and dark, close-cropped hair allowing him to blend with the shadows
      effortlessly. He had no memory of how he had arrived there and no
      knowledge of where he would go after his work was done. This
      emptiness did not bother him. It was unimportant. He knew why he
      was here and what he had to do. That was enough.

      The security around the perimeter was minimal for someone with his
      skills and information. He could not remember studying any
      schematics of the security system or plans of the house, but somehow
      he still had the knowledge.

      Picking the lock on the main door, he entered the large home and
      easily disabled the interior alarm as he had the exterior. Sniffing
      the air, he determined that there were no pets in the home that would
      give away his presence. Also, the target, as well as the other
      residents, were upstairs and had been for several hours. He could
      move freely while he completed the mission.

      Moonlight shone through the few uncurtained windows on the first
      floor, but the killer did not need the illumination. His eyes were
      as keen as a cat's, allowing him to see everything in the dim
      entryway. He walked easily through foyer and down the hallway to his
      first objective.

      Entering the brightly decorated kitchen, he walked straight to the
      knife rack and pulled out a six-inch butcher knife. Holding it in
      his gloved hand, he tested the balance of the weapon. Satisfied with
      its heft, he left the kitchen and proceeded to the stairs. It would
      have been easier to kill with his claws or bare hands, but the
      mission called for a weapon on the scene.

      Ascending the stairs, quiet as a whisper, the dark figure sampled the
      air again. The target was through third door on the left at the top
      of the stairs, and he was not alone. After pushing open the door,
      the killer could see the man in bed, sleeping on his back with his
      wife curled at his side.

      Perfect. The man would be easy to kill. The only difficulty of the
      mission was that the death had to be silent. The wife must not be
      aware of the killer's presence. She must be framed for the murder:
      a domestic dispute gone horribly wrong.

      As the killer slinked forward, he remained hyper aware of the
      heartbeats and breathing of the people in the bed before him, ready
      to act if either of them started to wake up. He was so aware of the
      bodies, that he noticed a discrepancy. One so glaring that, once
      discovered, the killer could not take his mind off it.

      The target was an older man, his hair a mix of blond and grey. The
      smell of aftershave, cologne, soap, and deodorant couldn't cover the
      natural musk of the man himself. The musk was feminine. Not only
      that, but the smell was familiar.

      Kelly had to die, but was this really Kelly? His scent and face
      matched those in the killer's head, but one or the other had to be
      wrong. If he killed this man now, would he be killing the target and
      fulfilling the mission or killing a decoy and leaving his work undone?

      Independent thought had been discouraged in the killer by every means
      available to his owners. He was ill-prepared for any deviation from
      the expected mission. He had no memories to draw on, no prior
      experiences from which to extrapolate a new plan. Therefore, he
      followed the mission despite his conflicting senses.

      Lining the butcher knife up, he plunged it deep into Kelly's chest
      between the third and fourth ribs. The man died almost instantly,
      never waking from his sleep. As the killer watched, Kelly's skin
      flickered, blue scales moving across his exposed face and neck,
      revealing the beautiful, blue mutant that had been masquerading as

      The dead mutant's face mixed with her smell was even more familiar.
      He *knew* her. This was not knowledge that had appeared from nowhere
      like his other memories. This was a nebulous, gut feeling.
      Sometime, before the mission, he had known this woman.

      'There is no past, no future, everything is the mission,'
      automatically ran through his thoughts. Yes, that's right. He
      couldn't know the woman. There is no past.

      Carefully and gently moving the wife's arm to the dead mutant's
      chest, he wrapped the woman's fingers around the handle of the knife,
      and she gripped the wood in her sleep, snuggling closer to the dead

      His work done, he left the mansion, stepping to the curb and into the
      van waiting for him.


      "The mission failed!" the young colonel yelled at the older scientist
      standing before him as he paced the small lab.

      The man known only as the Weapon lay quietly in the sealed room
      before them, oblivious to their words. He had been returned to the
      base early that morning, and now, after debriefing, he was being
      wiped and reprogrammed for his next mission as the two men talked.

      "The mission was a phenomenal success!" the professor responded,
      thrilled at the results of his latest endeavor.

      "How can you say that? Your magnificent weapon didn't kill Kelly.
      He killed a shape-shifting mutant, probably planted there to hide the

      "No." the professor answered, quickly losing his patience with the
      younger man. "Think about it! Senator Kelly was anti-mutant for
      most of his political career..."

      "He changed sides. That's why we had to eliminate him. He knew too
      much and wouldn't listen to reason."

      "No. Don't you remember the panic right before that mutant terrorist
      attack? Kelly disappeared for a week and then changed sides in a
      press conference. Don't you see? He was replaced then! This blue
      shape-shifter probably killed him and took his place, switching his
      affiliation and working for mutant causes ever since."

      The professor watched as the stunned colonel processed his
      theory. "Two years? There's no way that facade could've been
      maintained for two years. His wife would figure it out... wouldn't
      she? My heavens, the man was running for president!"

      "Which is why this mission was such a success. Darlene Kelly is
      already being praised in the media for her act of self-defense
      against a mutant who was pretending to be her husband. A mutant who
      could easily have become president. This will increase the cry for
      mutant registration. Soon, we will be able to take our project out
      into the open."

      "Kelly's been dead all this time?"

      "Yes, and our weapon has eliminated a very dangerous mutant. Can't
      you see how successful this project is?

      "I must admit, Professor. When you put it that way, it is quite
      impressive." Turning his attention to the man lying in the room
      beyond, the colonel asked, "What is he being programmed for now?
      Another political assassination or some mutant eliminations?"

      "Another assassination. The only man that can stop us now is already
      petitioning Congress and pandering to the press, trying to calm the
      outcry over the shape-shifting fraud. With him and his assistant out
      of the way, there will be no one to stop us."

      "So you're sending the Weapon against two targets? I didn't know he
      could be programmed with that much information at a time."

      "Both targets live in the same building. He can kill them and be
      back out with minimum residual presence. It shouldn't be too
      difficult. It's not like these are mutants he's going against, just
      some rich people in a private school."

      "Who are they?"

      "Professor Charles Xavier and Dr. Jean Summers."


      See part two.
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