FIC: "Just a Mutant" (1/1) Stryker/Yuriko X2 [PG-13]
- Title: "Just a Mutant" (1/1)
Author: Melancthe (melancthe@...)
Characters: Stryker, Yuriko
Summary: Stryker contemplates his relationship with Yuriko
Rating: PG-13 (mature themes)
Mutant bitch. That's all she is. I have her around because I can use
her. She's my work of art. Everything she is, she owes to me. And
that's all she is to me. My creation.
I keep telling myself that.
She makes a good bodyguard. So efficient and so sleek in her business
suit. The perfect personal assistant. "That's quite a grip", Kelly
had said earlier. If only you knew, Kelly. If only you knew.
At first, I looked at her perfection, and I was proud of what I'd
made of her. Like a father with his child. Like an artist with a new
sculpture. I don't think I'd ever known that sort of pride until
then. In the days when I had a son, I'd wanted that feeling. I'd
hoped Jason could be cured of the disease, but it got worse and
worse, until the day I no longer had a son. The pride had left long
before then, though, and all that was left was contempt and loathing.
Yuriko is different. I control her and everything about her.
I think it all started when I looked at her one day. Not just glanced
- I mean, really looked. She was sitting next to me on a very long
plane trip, and she was staring out the window as impassively as
ever. As I looked at her, the fading sunlight lit up her face. It was
one of those nauseating moments that have become such a cliché. No,
it didn't make me a nicer person. It didn't change my outlook on
life. I didn't become a mutant-hugger. It just made me want her.
The first time I touched her, she pulled away slightly, as if the
effects of the drug were wearing off, then forced herself to comply.
Reluctantly. Now I think she knows it's one of the job requirements,
just like killing whoever I ask her to.
Sometimes I feel old. And tired. And too damned cynical to call what
I feel for Yuriko "love". She's my lover and my own personal killer.
No, I can't call her my "lover". That implies something more than
passive participation. She lets me use her - not that she has any
choice, of course, because the drug makes her do everything I want.
The only reason she lets me touch her is because her body won't let
her resist me. I've thought about using her compliance even more than
I already have, but I can't. I despise that weakness in myself.
Lately, I've even had moments of weakness where I've wanted her to
respond when I touch her, not just passively accept it. I've wanted
her to turn around during our sessions and put her arms around me.
I've wanted her to say my name with more than just clinical
That's the part where I remember what I'm fighting for. I remember
what this disease did to my son. I remember my wife. I look at the
creatures out there and I know that I will never be able to stop the
war. Until they're all gone, none of us will be safe.
She's just a mutant.
One day I'll really believe that.