A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Feeling creative? Post your fan stories and fan art here!
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I know, it's been months since I put anything up. Since before T&B folded, in fact. I've been battling a nasty case of writer's block since Christmas.

But I figure if I go ahead and serialize this one, it'll give me the incentive (read "guilt" ) to keep going with it.

For a lot of you on the board, you'll know what I mean by "this story picks up where Isolation left off". But for the rest... well, know that I tend to write in a linear fashion, and that means I have eight stories behind this one. They're archived in several different places, including Fuzzy Tail and Fur and Brimstone, and I've even put them on FF.Net. If you'd like to read up on them, either for the first time, or just to refamiliarize yourself, here's the FF link for my author name, Scrawling Maelstrom. It'll be a lot easier if you read them in order, which is starting at 10 and working to 1:

http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=564220

Here's the Reader's Digest Condensed Version of what has happened before. (Who says only Marvel can do gateway covers? ;) )

Several months ago, after Kurt, Logan, and Ororo got back from battling a demon in the Allegheny mountains, the Xavier Institute was attacked by an aborted missile strike, and several hellishly fast, 10-15 foot tall armored robotic suits. The suits directly hooked into their pilots' nervous systems, allowing the suit to become an extension of the pilot's body, but also rendering them slavish automatons for the duration. Most frightening, it appeared some of these suits could teleport, though the teleportation was risky at best. Things were so bad that Xavier actually called in some help from an old student of his, Henry McCoy. (NOTE: In the Movieverse, Hank McCoy looks big, but human, as he did when he first joined the Xmen.)

The suits were based off of an alien technology someone had "scrounged" from an utterly alien, dimension-hopping race, named, for lack of a better word, the Talons. Xavier and his people forged an alliance with the Talons and managed to beat back two invasions: one from an "unfriendly" branch of the Talons, and another from the makers of those amplifier suits.

Whatever organization created the suits is still active, however, and on a trip to Mexico to save a frightened mutant child, they met the next upgrade: a suit made entirely of plastic, graphite, and ceramic components, protected by a forcefield. Only a risky manuever from Nightcrawler, using his teleportation as a vicious weapon, took the hellish thing down. One thing lead to another, and soon Logan, Ororo, and Kurt were flying home with not only Rosa, but a salvaged computer tower from an enemy vehicle. In that hard drive, hopefully, rests the identity of their new enemies....

Original Characters:

Isidro Delgado: Human, early 20s A police cadet who was an unwilling pilot of one of the amp suits. As one of the only witnesses, both Xavier and the US government want him kept very safe and sound.

Rosa: Mutant, female, between 10 and 13 years old. Her powers manifested a moth ago, occasionally turning her into a hideous, scale and bristle-covered, bipedal creature, easily mistaken for a chupacabras. She is very small, shy, speaks only Spanish, and has a cleft lip on top of it all. She seems to have no power over when she shifts form.


And now, it has been a full day since the battle with the "upgraded" man-amp suit. Ororo is recoving from an abdominal wound that nearly cost her life, and Kurt's nose is still bleeding off and on from the beating he has taken. Join in as they finally park under the basketball court....

--------------------------------------------------

Sinister Designs : Prologue


By the time the jet finally landed at the institute, sometime early afternoon, both Rosa and Ororo had nodded off. Kurt didn't have the heart to wake either of them. Logan, however, had no such sentimental compunctions.

"C'mon, kiddos," he said, lightly shaking Rosa, then Ororo, on the shoulder. "Rise an' shine."

Ororo woke with a bit of a start. "How long've I been out?"

"Most of the trip, liebling," Kurt confessed as he stood up. "That gentle downpour must have taken a lot out of you. Do you need help?"

She shook her head as she unbuckled herself from the seat. "I should be all right in a moment. How's Rosa?"

Kurt glanced back for a second. "A little groggy."

He felt a dribble of warmth run from his nose. Ororo noticed it at the same time. Kurt pinched his nose and bowed his head, muttering a few choice curses in German.

"You must have stood up too fast," Ororo said.

"It's been doing this off and on since last night. The altitude changes have not been helping." He offered her his free hand. "I think it will pass soon."

"I hope so. I'd hate to think we'll have to use the nitrate sticks on you."

"Oh, please, no silver sticks. I hate those things. They burn so."

Logan looked up from where he was unhooking Rosa from her seat. "You should've seen him packing his nose with gauze earlier. That red sure shows up against his face."

Despite her weakness, Ororo stood and moved to see Rosa. Such a tiny little thing. She must have stood under five feet. For the life of her, Ororo couldn't tell if she was less than ten years old, or just petite and malnourished.

Logan wrinkled his nose momentarily. "Oh-ohh. Get ready."

Rosa started to tremble, looking at her body with a panicked expression. She was changing again. Logan set his mouth in a grim line and shook his head slightly. No wonder she was living alone, if she had this little control over her ability.

"It be all right," Kurt told her in Castilian. "Let it come. No one hate you. Let it come."

The disturbing transformation finished in a few seconds. It seemed to speed up after Kurt's words. Rosa, hunched over a little bit, looked back up at Kurt. Kurt just nodded.

"Can you speak like this?" he asked her. She shook her head. "It be all right. The teacher be happy see you. He know how you look. Other children be happy see you. They know how you look."

She nodded, still hunched over in that wary posture. Ororo took her hand, then gently pulled her to the back of the jet, where the ramp was lowering. Kurt followed behind, still pinching his errant, bloody nose. Logan brought up the rear, their salvaged computer tower clutched in his hands as he watched all in front for signs of weakness. As expected, Professor Xavier was waiting at the base of the ramp, Scott at his side.

The only thing that betrayed Scott's emotions was the slight drop of his jaw, a motion so subtle it could have been mistaken for a simple intake of breath. Ororo wondered whether she or Rosa was the object of his attention. She hadn't seen herself in the mirror for a while, but she knew she couldn't look good. The professor, however, just smiled pleasantly as they descended, his eyes on his new ward. He extended his hand to her and spoke in perfect, comfortable Spanish. Rosa slowly started to move toward him, looking from Xavier to Ororo. Ororo smiled in turn and let go of her hand.

Xavier held Rosa's hands in his, quietly speaking to her. She nodded occasionally. Ororo glanced back at Kurt, who was watching the scene intently. Maybe she'd ask him about the conversation later. Xavier looked up at Scott and nodded, then looked back at the rest of them.

"Ororo, Kurt, can you make it to medlab?" he asked softly.

Kurt and Ororo nodded. For a moment, Kurt let go of his nose, but he could feel the blood continue to dribble, so he went back to pinching it again. To Kurt's surprise, Scott bent over and gently gathered Rosa in his arms. The tender action looked so... ill-fitting... on the stern man. He had never seen such a gesture from him before.

As they exited the hanger, they found the entire student body waiting for them in the hallway. Most had a set of clothes in their arms, alternately held in front or tucked under the arm. The exceptions were the older students, specifically Piotr, Rogue, and Bobby. The reasons, if not immediately apparent, became obvious as Artie fearlessly came up and held his pair of jeans against Rosa.

"We look really close," he said. "Maybe these'll fit."

"She's not gonna wear boys underwear, Artie!" Jubilee objected.

"I was talkin' about the jeans!" he objected right back. "I don't have any of those lacy girl things!"

Logan could smell the fear and revulsion coming off a few of the kids. Not surprisingly, one of them was Judy, who'd also been scared out of her wits at Kurt's arrival. But they were all holding it in this time. Good for them.

"Miss Munroe, what happened?" Jaideep asked, looking at the open hole in Ororo's uniform. "Are you okay?"

"I just need some rest," she told him. "And before you ask, Kurt just has to take care of his nosebleed. We'll be all right."

The plethora of students and teachers made their way down to the medlab. Somewhere along the way the computer tower got passed to Piotr, and a hushed conversation took place between he, Logan, and Kitty. Kitty squeezed her way up to the front, taking pains not to phase through the crowd, until she reached the professor.

"Professor, is Rosa gonna be okay, too?" she asked. "I don't want to leave, but...."

"But you want at that hard drive," Scott finished. "You've got the whole electronics lab at your disposal, Kate. Go to town. I just hope you can get something."

"I do too." She smiled up at Rosa and patted her bristly arm. "Hasta la Vista."

Rosa waved hesitantly as Kitty wove back through the multitude. She and Piotr ducked down another corridor and out of sight.

"Does she speak English at all?" one of the students asked.

"No, but she'll learn very fast," Xavier replied. "Just to warn you, she can't speak at all in this form."

"She can stay up in our room," Jubilee volunteered. "We've got the space. Right, guys?"

She looked at her roommates. All nodded and spoke assent, except Judy, who looked a bit nervous. Charles translated for Rosa. Others spoke. A hubbub of conversation sprang up.

"Did you coordinate this?" Kurt asked softly. "The clothing?"

Scott shook his head. "Once they found out about Rosa, everyone spontaneously decided to do it. We were as surprised as you were when they lined up with a set of clothes each." He looked back at Ororo and Logan and motioned with his head for them to draw near. "I want to keep you up-to-date on a few things. We got a call from Hank an hour ago. He said that he and Isidro would be staying at wherever they are for another day or two. So far so good, it seems."

"They are going to put Isidro under some sort of protection, aren't they?" Ororo asked.

"The way Hank spoke, it was like they didn't want to chance anything happening to Isidro. He's their only witness. He's going to be protected round the clock. Matter of fact, they've called in Nathan and Moira as well."

"Nathan?" Ororo paused for a second in thought. "Nathaniel Essex? And Moira MacTaggart?"

Scott nodded. "All the way from the British Isles."

"These people are important, yes?" Kurt asked.

"Only two of the top geneticists in the world," Scott replied. "You put Hank in there, and they've got all the talent in one spot."

"They called in geneticists for this?" Logan asked suspiciously. "I thought they were looking at hardware, not wetware."

"Same here. So far as I know, only Hank has any idea what to make of the electronics for these amp suits. I guess they're in there to look at the neural gel."

Logan snorted and glared elsewhere. "More likely some bureaucrat wanted to bounce more 'mutant problem' ideas off them. Hank sniffed out any moles yet?"

"No, for once everything seems to be on the level. I'm afraid to jinx it." Scott paused. "Logan, what you told me about the new suit in the jet. You're sure there's no metal in it?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I can only think of one reason why someone would go through that much trouble for a mutant-hunting weapon."

The four of them looked at each other, and one name went through their heads.

"Magneto?" Ororo asked.

"They're gunning for him," Scott answered.

"He's the number one terrorist on the slate, of course they're going after him," Logan snarled. "Especially after that stunt at Alkali."

"But we're the only ones that know what he did in Cerebro," Scott reminded him. "Even if someone else found out, that suit must have taken more than a year to put in production. They've been preparing this since way before Liberty Island. Since before the public knew about him at all. They probably designed it side-by-side with their other suits."

"I'm almost afraid to know what Kätzchen will find on that computer," Kurt mumbled.

"I'm more afraid that she won't be able to find a thing." He looked at Kurt directly. "How long has that nosebleed gone on?"

"The pressure changes started it again," he said.

"Don't worry, we've got nitrate sticks in the medlab."

Kurt unsuccessfully tried to stifle his groan.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
bluefooted
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 301
Joined: Thu Aug 14, 2003 5:22 pm
Location: the OC
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by bluefooted »

Yay! You're back (and there was much rejoicing!) Glad to see you're picking up where we left off - thought poor Kurt was going to have that nosebleed forever ;) Great writing as usual!
User avatar
Singe
Bilge Rat
Bilge Rat
Posts: 91
Joined: Mon Mar 08, 2004 3:42 am

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Singe »

*concurs with blue* Hooray for mild writer's block passage! I was wondering when/if you were going to pick anything up again! I am glad. :D
Image
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Thankfully I have read just about all of the stories you mentioned above, especially the one the precedes this one...that is a long nose bleed.:urg

Nathaniel Essex...as in Mr. Sinister Nathaniel Essex, or to be revealed Nathaniel Essex?

:sinister ROX!
one name: Bruce Campbell
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

:whistle Maaayyyyyyyyyyybe.....


------------------------------
Sinister Designs: Chapter 1


Ororo had no idea how long she slept once she made it to her own room. It could have been a few hours, it could have been an entire day. All she knew was that the afternoon sunlight greeted her eyes when next she opened them. She lay in bed for a few minutes longer, not quite willing to leave, and turned away from the light. As she did, she saw that there was something on the table a few feet away from her. She blinked a few times, forcing her eyes to focus. It was a loaded tray. Not one of the heavy plastic ones for everyday use, but a silver tray, with a silver teapot, china cup, white-wrapped sandwich, and a few red roses arranged casually in front of it all.

She sighed as she slowly rolled out of bed, a smile on her lips. There was only one person who would go to that much trouble for her.

She stood gingerly at first, expecting that searing "you shouldnt be out of bed" fire to lance into her once more. But now the pain in her right side had dulled to something much more manageable. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she could straighten up without her stoic mask. In the mirror she could see the mark, a dull, reddish-brown, vaguely regular circle, similar to a healing burn. Considering one was able to see daylight through it a few days ago, it was still hard to believe it had mended so well. There might not even be a permanent scar when it was done.

She padded softly over to the table and poured what she expected to be water or cool tea out of the teapot. To her pleasant surprise, it was coffee, and it was still warm enough to steam. This wasnt one of their insulated containers. When did Kurt bring this up? Had he been checking in on her every fifteen minutes? Or did he just have extraordinarily good timing?

Youre going to make me feel guilty with all this attention, Kurt, she thought as she unwrapped the sandwich. Not that I dont appreciate it.....

She hadnt been hungry when she woke up, but at the first bite of food, she found herself nothing short of ravenous. She devoured the sandwich in short order, and bolted her coffee after that. After finishing off the small pot, she glanced down at the roses.

Thats it, Ororo. When you think about eating the roses, its time to raid the kitchen. Goddess, I havent been this hungry in years. One sandwich should have been enough, and Ive had enough coffee to have me doing handsprings all day....

She tossed on some clothing and headed out. The halls were all clear, and she heard little of the usual institute activity downstairs. Classes must have ended. A quick glance out of a nearby window confirmed her suspicions: on a beautiful, warm day like this, most of the students were outside. Shed probably get to the kitchen without interruption. But as it turned out, she wasnt so much interrupted on the way as she was sidetracked by the voices in the common room.

"Sorry, guys, but I dont have any blue," a student (was it John?) said. "I want red."

Kurt must have snorted very loudly for Ororo to hear him at this distance. "You are not sorry. Thats another Draw Four Wildcard, isnt it?"

"Uh... yeah, it is."

Johns words were immediately followed by hoots and cheers. Curious, Ororo looked into the room. Kurt was sitting at the table with six other students, playing a card game. Judging by the size of the drawing pile, there were at least two or three decks combined into one. Also, judging by Kurts expression, and the large pile of Uno cards gathering at his spot, he wasnt doing very well. He sat at the table, chin in his hand, and sighed as John drew four more cards from the main deck and added them to Kurts heap. At that point, one of the players facing the doorway saw Ororo.

"Miss Munroe! Are you doing okay?" she asked.

The rest of the table turned to see her. As Kurt turned the rest of the way, Ororo saw that one of his eyes was completely red where the whites should have been. She winced.

"Better than Mr. Wagner, it seems," she answered as she walked in. She pointed to her left eye. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, this?" he asked back. He looked down with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Its nothing. Sometimes this happens when I have a bloody nose. Some blood vessels burst in my eye. It looks worse than it is."

"It certainly looks awful. It doesnt hurt, does it?"

"No, not at all. I think my hand hurts worse than my eye."

He pointed to the pile of cards in front of him. Some of the kids snickered. Ororo gestured for them to keep playing while she stood near Kurt. Play resumed, as loud and boisterous as ever. One thing about Uno that Ororo had figured out early on; it was invariably accompanied by swearing, name calling, shouting, and smart-ass comments. It was impossible to play quietly.

"Arent you supposed to pick those cards up and look at them at some point?" Ororo asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Kurt threw his arms open wide. "Why bother? I havent played a single card this entire game! All I do is get stuck with them!"

Adding to his words, play skipped to John again, who played a red Draw Two card. More shouts. John drew two more cards for Kurts growing pile.

Kurt pointed to the deck, John, and the entire table. "Look at this! Why am I here? All I do is eat cards!"

"Speaking of eating, thank you for the tray," Ororo said softly. "I have no idea how you kept the coffee warm, but I appreciate it."

"I would refill it every so often," he answered, just as soft. "When it cooled, I made another small pot and gave what was there to Kätzchen. I have never seen a girl go through so much coffee."

Play had reversed direction. Now Anna, to Kurts left, held up another Draw Two card, the second of two cards in her hand.

"Im really, really sorry, Mr. Wagner," she giggled. "And Uno, everybody."

"Oh, why break with tradition?" Kurt shouted. "I havent played yet! Why start now?"

And so Kurt was given two more cards, and play once again passed him by.

"Whats Kitty doing that shes drinking so much coffee?" Ororo asked.

"Shes still in the lab," Kurt said. "Shes like a little pit bull when it comes to computers. As long as you have slept, she has been awake, working on that hard drive."

"How long has that been?"

"A good 30 hours. Herr Professor was to stop it, but she begged him to give her more time. I think he only lets her do this because its so important to find something on that computer."

So shed been out a full day. That explained why she was so damned hungry.

"Has Hank come back yet?" she asked.

"He called early this morning. He should be back by dinner tonight, he said." A memory lit his eyes. "Thats right, you were sleeping when we got her call! Do you remember Beth and Toshiro Hidoshi in Virginia?"

"How could I forget? Something about saving each others life will do that."

"She had the baby yesterday. Seven pounds, nine ounces, a little boy, healthy as you could want. They were talking about naming him after Logan." Kurt grinned. "You should have seen his face. I dont think he knew what to think about that."

"Um... Mr. Wagner...?" Anna asked. She held up her final card. "Im out."

"And you went out with another card to make me draw, yes?" he asked back.

She nodded, her lips twisting in a frantic, and futile, attempt not to smile. It was another Draw 4 Wild card. Kurt bowed his head in acquiescence and gestured for more cards to come his way.

"I have no trouble with other games like poker, but I have no luck with this one," he sighed, watching four more cards find their way onto the heap. "My first hand, and I never got to play."

The students started counting the points in their hands, laying the cards face up on the table as they figured. Another student brought out the pen and paper to keep track. Kurt gathered his cards into a neat stack and started to fan them out for the first time. Ororo looked over his shoulder and bit her lip.

He calmly looked up over his cards at the rest of the table. "And the scoring? Just to make sure, it is twenty points for letter cards and fifty points for wildcards? And the game ends at 500?"

"Yeah," John answered. "How many you got?"

In response, Kurt dropped his cards on the table, which prompted shouts of disbelief. He must have been holding over half of the wild cards in the deck. At a quick glance, he had over 600 points sitting in his hand. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and raised his arms in triumph.

"I win."

There was an explosion of laughter. Someone, probably several someones, shouted that he did not win, that you were supposed to have the fewest points, not the most. None of it seemed to matter to Kurt. He stood up, eyes still closed and arms still raised, as if acknowledging a standing ovation.

"I have ended the game in record time," he spoke loudly over the objections. "The Amazing Nightcrawler has gained more points in one hand than anyone in history." He pushed his chair back in with his tail as he bowed. "And as it would not be sporting of me to beat you all so soundly again, I will now leave you to wallow in defeat."

He was so good with the kids, Ororo thought. He fit with them so well. She, Scott, and Charles were mentors at all times. Hank was friendly, but he was an outsider, and his vocabulary and intellect made him unapproachable. Logan was like a notorious uncle who taught you how to play poker, drink whisky, and shoot a pistol when your parents werent looking. Kurt.... Kurt was a friend. Maybe it was all business in his gym class, but once outside that teacher/student barrier fell at the first opportunity. He would play with them, and they would play back. He performed, and they watched.

After all, would Scott have even been invited to play cards with them? Let alone accepted the offer?

He and Ororo moved away from the table as one as the kids shuffled the cards for another round. She couldnt help but stare at Kurts reddened eye. She knew the blood would likely be reabsorbed by the end of the week, but it was going to look horrendous until then.

"I dont think that sandwich was enough for you, liebling," he said softly as they left the room. "But I wasnt sure what else youd be in the mood for, and I didnt want to have soup and salad growing old while you slept."

"It gave me the energy to get down here without fainting," she replied. "The silver tea set and roses were a wonderful touch."

"What kind of man would I be to neglect such things?"

From literally out of nowhere, Kitty ran into them both. Or, rather, ran through them. Ororos stomach did uncomfortable flip-flops. I wasnt painful to have Kitty phase through you, but it was very disconcerting.

The second she realized what she had done, Kitty spun around, panting. "Guys, I finally got in. I got it working. You guys gotta get down there. Ill tell the professor."

Before either Kurt or Ororo could ask for clarification, she was gone again, dashing through the nearest wall. They glanced at each other. The electronics lab. Without saying a word, they both headed downstairs.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Eating roses:yuckshe musta been starvin'!
I love how you described Logan being like a notorius uncle,LOL.

I had a blood vessel pop in my eye after my sister socked me, it does look kinda creepy, I cant imagine how bad it would look on Kurt.:(

~EMO~
one name: Bruce Campbell
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Actually, roses are 100% edible, and delicious. The petals alone have a nice flavor. :lick Ever had rose tea? Chocolate covered roses? Rose petal candy? (This latest one you can find in some import stores, along with lavendar flavored candy: it's a British, I believe.)

:scratch Come to think of it, most of the things we consider weeds are prefectly edible, too. Time was when we'd eat dandilion salads.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
Siona
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1534
Joined: Sat Aug 02, 2003 6:38 pm
Location: UT, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Siona »

Rose petals dipped in a nice layer of chocolate are most precious. :love

Glad to see you writing again, Mael. I like it so far. Keep going!
You cannot stop me. You cannot destroy me. For I am the cockroach of looove.

"Ah, young love. Stupid pencils."
-- SheCat.
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

I've had rose tea and it made me gag...then again, my sister made it...she could have slipped me something:scratch*paranoid*
one name: Bruce Campbell
LadyErin
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 293
Joined: Mon Jul 28, 2003 9:05 am
Location: Limbo
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situations) (finished 8/10/05)

Post by LadyErin »

Pansy petals are good too, if a little paper-y in texture.

But wonderful story Mael!:clap More coming soon, yes?:puppy
http://lady_erin.livejournal.com
:magneto
What do you mean, you "don't believe in homosexuality?" It's not like the Easter Bunny, your belief isn't necessary. ~~Lea DeLaria
Want to IM me? U2U me for the screenname.
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I have enough already written for this update and one more... but I fear youll have to wait for the next one until after SDCC.... :evil


A word of warning: this is where it turns nasty....:urg


-----------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 2

Every member of the X-men gathered in the lab within minutes. Equipment, wires, boards, and unidentifiable "stuff" littered one of the tables. A half-filled coffeepot sat on an active burner some feet away, along with a spill-proof mug and the debris of several meals. For once, the printer stood idle and devoid of printout. Kitty would always make printouts before she was done. Whatever she discovered on the hard drives they brought back had her so excited that she was forgoing her usual procedure.

She sat at the computer table, activating certain windows as she talked. Above her on the wall, a larger projection of that same screen made sure everyone had a chance to see.

"Okay, okay, this is the first thing I found," she said rapidly. "The email account. Youre not gonna believe all this stuff."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---- Original Message ----
From: Brodemier, Matthiew
Sent: Friday, April 2, 2004 7:02 AM
To: command ops
Subject: Chain of command

Spindler;

Romor has it that Larry has been removed from the command structure, but hes denying the whole thing. Is this true? My guys are getting antsy. You know how Larry gets; he makes Stryker look like an altar boy. Have you sene the flame hes slinging around? We have to have somthing in writing to get him to lay off.

---- Original Message ----
From: command ops
Sent: Monday, April 5, 2004 2:34 PM
To: Brodemier, Matthiew
Subject: RE: Chain of command


Were still looking into it. It doesnt look good for him, right now. The panels leaning towards punting Larry off the tree.

---- Original Message ----
From: Brodemier, Matthiew
Sent: Monday, April 12, 2004 7:22 AM
To: command ops
Subject: RE: Chain of command


Spindler, whats the decision, here? Can Larry be trusted or not? Everyone needs to know ASAP.

---- Original Message ----
From: command ops
Sent: Thursday, April 15, 2004 10:43 AM
To: Brodemier, Matthiew
Subject: RE: Chain of command


Matt,

Spread this down the pipe. Larry is OUT of the loop. End of discussion. And in case he gives you grief, shove this in his face:



To all field operatives:

After a thorough review of the Westchester Disaster, it has been decided that Harold Trask is no longer to be trusted in the command chain for combat operations. Though his zeal is commendable, his drive to eliminate the enemy has resulted in his making rash decisions. Henceforth, he is to focus entirely on research and development.



Derek Spindler

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Logan gave something between a snort and a chuckle. "Real professional, there. Whoever this Larry is, sounds like hes a real primadonna."

Professor Xaviers voice was stern to the point of anger. "Harold Trask is an old associate of William Stryker, but while William stayed in the government, Harold went into the private sector. I havent even heard his name in years."

"I looked this guy up, and hes like the Howard Hughes of the defense world," Kitty said quickly, turning around in her seat. "He does all this great R and D, hes got more money than God, but, like, no one ever sees him. He owns huge shares of Lockheed, Boeing, ADF, and God knows what else, and hes always doing contracting, but its all done electronically. He just never sees anyone."

"Howard Hughes?" Piotr asked.

"Rich genius nutcase, did all this great airplane stuff in the 30s, went all hermit on the rest of the world before he died," Kitty explained. She barely took a breath between sentences, and her voice started to tremble. "Man, Westchester Disaster, you think it could be more obvious? He must have ordered that attack on us!" She spun again and called up another window. "Heres another one. This one is so gonna piss you off."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---- Original Message ----
From: Angel
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2003 11:32 AM
To: R&D Feedback
Subject: detector

you asked for us to say something and here it is this thing sux. It always nevr works right its always stoping and starting. We have hell ofa time catching any with it.


---- Original Message ----
From: Mr. Sinister
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2003 1:54 PM
To: Brodemier, Matthiew
Subject: RE: detector

Matthiew,

Neither Harold nor I can make adjustments to the equipment unless we know exactly what the problems are. Your partners comments are not specific enough. Please clarify.




---- Original Message ----
From: Brodemier, Matthiew
Sent: Thursday, December 18, 2003 9:13 PM
To: Mr. Sinister
Subject: RE: detector

Mr. Sinister,

Please accept my opologies. This will be the last time I have Angelou give a status report.

1) Tho the detector could pick up active use of the xgene, it could not detect passive use. This severely limits its potential to hunting down active targets, who ar much more likely to cause casualties than those caught by surprise.
2) Sometimes the detector will "stick". Example: when the control mutant was killed during active power use, it was still registered as active. This will waste a lot of time in the field, trying to hunt down a target thats already dead.
3) The "handheld" prototype is so fragile that I wouldnt trust it outside of the lab. It will not survive being dropped, let alone battle. Also, it tends to "drop out" often when compared with the mobile units.

On the plus side, the emanations from Larrys Sentinels no longer interfere with the signals. In the future, we should be able to send them after targets and track them in real time, instead of programming in advance.


---- Original Message ----
From: Mr. Sinister
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2003 1:54 PM
To: Brodemier, Matthiew
Subject: RE: detector

Matthiew,

1) Currently, there is no way to detect an inactive xgene short of a blood or DNA analysis. I am working to rectify this in the future.
2) This is an interesting problem. Did resetting the device work, or did it stay active for a longer time? It could be that the emanations from the targets gene persisted after its demise.
3) I realize that the handheld model is fragile. Future rebuilds will strengthen it. What percentage of dropouts were in evidence?




---- Original Message ----
From: Brodemier, Matthiew
Sent: Thursday, December 18, 2003 9:13 PM
To: Mr. Sinister
Subject: RE: detector

Mr. Sinister,

For question 2, yes, resetting did fix the problem, but we cant keep rebooting after every shot. For question 3, it semed that the signals randomly dropped out half the time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Kurts mouth went dry as the words, and their horrible implications, sank in. He crossed himself three times. It was as if he was reading a communiqué from Dr. Mengele.

"Oh my Lord," Rogue whispered. "Oh my dear, sweet Lord."

"I mean, look at this!" Kitty screamed. "They killed someone to test this thing out, and theyre talking like they blew a bulb! Someone fucking died!"

"You know who this Sinister guy is, too, Chuck?" Logan asked quietly.

Charles shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the letter. "I have never heard this pen name before, not even in passing."

"This thing has FOH everywhere," Kitty went on, pointing to the hard drive in question. "Half the email goes right through their domain. I salvaged enough to hunt these bastards down."

"Catherine, youve been working far too long already--" Charles started.

A tear trickled down her cheek. "No! No! Im serious, here! I can do this! Right now! I-Ive got the codes--!"

Now everyone else was attempting to calm her with their words. They spoke, they reached out, they tried to comfort. In response, her face reddened and her voice picked up in volume and pitch

"We cant just let them do this!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "We cant let them use us like lab rats! We cant let them find a way to kill us in our beds and herd us into camps!"

Kitty was so intelligent, so mature and responsible, that it was easy to forget she was not yet fourteen. As she began to break down, that youth suddenly became all too apparent. Scott covered the distance in two steps and grabbed her by her shoulders, with Piotr close behind.

"Kate, look at me," Scott ordered. "Do you honestly think were just going to sit on this while you get some rest? Do you think I dont know my way around a recovered hard drive?" When she tried to protest, he shook her once and continued, "No arguments. Youre exhausted. You get tired, you make mistakes. You did everything we couldnt do. Let someone else do the rest."

She grimaced and turned away, tears streaming from both eyes. "Im sorry. I-I just... I shouldnt be... going to pieces like this...." In a faint whimper, "They took pictures."

Scott turned off the monitor with his elbow. Both overhead and primary screens went black. Piotr mumbled something in Russian as he gently took her from Scott. As Scott relinquished her, she curled up in Piotrs arms.

"They... they took pictures... a-and they... drew on them... like they were m-magazine ads...," she sobbed. "They made... word bubbles... and drew stuff... on someones body...."

Piotr held the girl close as her strength dissolved, literally cradling her in his arms.

"Ill take her upstairs," Piotr said quietly.

Xavier motioned for Piotr to draw near. As he did so, the professor put his hand on the back of Kittys head. Her sobs slowed, then stilled altogether. Soon she was asleep.

"I should never have let her push herself this hard," Xavier whispered. "If I had even an inkling of what images she would find there, I would never have allowed her to view them." He stroked her hair gently as he pulled his hand away. "Someone with a coarse and juvenile sense of humor adjusted some of the research photographs with the electronic equivalent of a felt-tipped pen." He shook his head with a pained expression. "The callous nature of those pictures is disgusting on any level. It didnt help that one was a nude girl defaced with swastikas."

"Swastikas." Logan rubbed his eyes, as if tired. "Bet the guy I saw in the van did it. He had one tattooed onto the side of his head, couple more on his arms. Looked like a stereotypical skinhead."

"Why do we keep running into these kinds of people?" Kurt asked. "We find them in Virginia, we find them in those suits, we find them here...."

"Hatred works in cycles, Kurt," Xavier answered softly. "The same sort who would join the Nazis or the Ku Klux Klan would also be attracted to hating mutants. Its all about defining yourself by your enemies."

"After all, its safe to hate us now," Bobby muttered, looking away. "Were a threat to human race, right? You say the n word and youll have people calling you a racist. Say the m word and youre just some patriot worried about national security. Theyll give you a medal or something."

"Or elect you to office," Rogue added.

Xavier rotated his chair to address the two teenagers directly. "Before you go too far down that path, I want you to consider something else. The government knows were here. Theyve seen most of the people in this room, they know exactly where we live, and thanks to Strykers files they have an excellent idea of what we can do. Have they come after us again, now that Stryker himself is gone?"

Bobby glanced at Logan. "Theyd be kind of stupid to do something like that again."

Xaviers tone was a bit sharper. "But if they bombed this area from above, we would have no defense. None at all. They could do that, Bobby. And if they considered us the kind of threat that Stryker and Trask obviously did, they would have. Keep that in mind before you damn too many with that label."

Uncomfortable silence settled on the room while everyone looked at each other. No one was willing to speak. Scott sat down at the computer and flicked the monitor back into operation, then took pains to turn off the overhead screen.

"Everyone, I think you should consider clearing out," he said. "Because like it or not, someone has to pick through this hard drive. And that includes looking at those pictures for clues...."

"Are you certain you wont need any help, Scott?" Charles asked.

"I think two of us with nightmares will be enough," he muttered as he began his work.

"If nothing else, Katya needs to rest," Piotr said softly. "You will call me when you have more information, da?"

"Count on it, Colossus," Scott called over his shoulder.

At the mention of his code name, Piotr hesitated at the doorway. He looked back to Scott. "You think we are going into combat soon?"

"Theres the possibility."

Piotr nodded. Steel flickered behind his dark eyes. Then he carried the girl out of the medlab. Scott glanced back over his right shoulder.

"Move it, everyone. Dont make it into an order."

Logan moved towards the door, albeit reluctantly. "Fuck it. I need a belt and a smoke before I go out and shred something."

Rogue and Bobby followed quickly, and the room began to empty. After a few seconds, Scott felt that he was alone. Except.... He glanced back to see Ororo still standing there, looking over his shoulder.

"I thought I told you--"

"Scott, this isnt something thats efficient to do solo, and you know it," she interrupted testily. "You need as many people to pick up visual clues as you can get."

"If I wanted help in something like this, I would have asked for Logan."

"He already gave the kids permission to leave. And dont you go treating me like the kids, either. I spent a very long time in places that qualify as war zones. Are you familiar with the fine tradition of necklacing? Where they put a tire filled with gas around your neck and light it?"

"Thats a hell of a lot different from vivisection shots."

"Its still death for the sake of feeding egos. Only the excuses differ. Mobs claim justice and scientists do it to better mankind." She pulled up a seat, effectively cementing her position by his side. "You know this means they have a lab somewhere, and theres certain to be victims well need to rescue. And if we dont get to these damn things now, well have a hell of a time convincing ourselves to do it later. You know that."

Dammit. Yes, he knew that. And, yes, technically she was right: two sets of eyes were better than one. If they were going to find this abattoir before more "test subjects" died, he had to set his personal feelings aside and let her help. He had to remind himself that Storm didnt need his protection. That she wasnt Jean. Not by a longshot. He entered some simple commands to search for any picture-format formats on the drive.

"You know that Bobby was right, dont you?" Ororo asked softly as the search continued.

He stared straight ahead at the screen. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Hes too damn perceptive sometimes."

There werent many of those files to look through. The bulk of them were in a folder with the disturbing label "fun stuf". Scott slowly inhaled and released a steadying breath before clicking on the first one. Both looked briefly away as the rudely-adjusted jpeg filled the screen.

"Goddess...," she hissed.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
taekwondodo
Deck Swabber
Deck Swabber
Posts: 505
Joined: Thu Jul 24, 2003 11:55 pm
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by taekwondodo »

First off...ick... >.<

Second off, glad to see you're working on this and putting it up here. I've really been looking forward to seeing more of your stuff and I hope your writer's block is taking a hike. :)
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Sinister Designs: Chapter 3


By this time, Hank was used to spending a lot of time in hotel rooms; the bane and the benefit of his position. His services were increasingly in demand around the country, sometimes around the world, and that required extended stays. He was intimately familiar with every pillow mint mankind had to offer, every trial size of shampoo, aftershave, toothpaste, and other personal effects. At one point, during a dreary stay in New Jersey, he had even amused himself with soap bar measurements and foam analysis. The Jefferson-A Loews Hotel in Washington DC was so familiar to him that the staff knew him by name.

And yet, for all the familiarities, there were so many differences. This time he was sharing the suite with Isidro, and they were both the guests of the US Government, important witnesses to what was turning out to be a very, very complex breach of national security. This time there were plainclothes agents everywhere, infiltrating the staff right from upper management down to housekeeping. This time there were cameras in the rooms, and countersurveilance cars parked outside. The bath was the only place either man had any privacy at all. And the bath was where Hank was at the moment.

"You know she's due here any minute, right, Hank?" Isidro called.

Hank shut off the electric razor. "Yes, I know. But considering the rate at which my hair grows, I need to keep this in check before I turn into either a werewolf or a computer programmer."

Isidro laughed. "All the coders I know are clean-shaven."

There was a knock at the door, followed by familiar feminine voice. "Everyone decent in there?"

Hank stepped out of the bathroom as he called, "We're clothed, at least."

Agent Gloria Angstrom opened the door and walked into the room, closing the door behind her with accustomed swiftness. Though relatively young when lined up against her peers, she was pushing 40 that year, and the laugh lines were starting to show. Almost old enough, as she so put it, to be Isidro's mother. And counting her "apprenticeship" in high school, she had been in the FBI for as long as Isidro had been alive. She was dressed professionally, in a dark, street length skirt with coordinating blouse and blazer. Her gun was hidden in there somewhere.

She glanced at the drawn curtains and sighed. "You pay through the nose for the view, and you have to keep the place shut up tight as a drum. Sometimes I hate this business."

She moved to the table along with the two men. Hank held out her chair, and even offered to call up for coffee, which she declined.

'I've had enough coffee to negate three whitening treatments by now," she said, her polite smile beginning to fade.

"Oh-ohh...." Hank pushed her chair in gently. "This sounds like we may be extending our stay further, depending on what you found...."

She sighed. "I don't think there's much more information we can wring out of the two of you right now, especially on this subject, but I'm going to try anyway. Have you ever heard of something called 'Project Wideawake'?"

Hank took his seat. "Wasn't it one of Stryker's projects?" She nodded, and he continued, "It wasn't the project, was it? The one that initiated this whole morass last year?"

She shook her head. "No, that was titled 'Cerebro II'. Stryker had a lot of pet projects floating around, it seems, and I have reason to believe some of them are so black they may actually qualify as earth-based singularities. But we can't get into his hard drive."

"You can't get in?" Hank repeated, disbelieving. "I don't understand. Did someone run some sort of virus on the machine between the 'visit' and your looting of Stryker's office?"

Her face twisted into something between a grimace and an ironic grin. "There's plenty who claim Xavier's people framed the good colonel for the entire Cerebro II incident and deliberately bollixed his hard drive to cover your tracks."

"If you were among them, I doubt we'd be having this polite conversation."

"Well, in my opinion, plenty of people are idiots. The problem with their comfortable little theory is that we did find collaboration between the hard and soft files, and we were able to crack Stryker's codes and start to pull things out. And then, mysteriously, the entire hard drive went missing. The hard drive, the backups, the hard copies. Everything. Whoosh. Gone."

Hank felt a cold shiver go down his back.

"Yes," Gloria continued. "How strange that it all disappeared in one of the most secure labs on the face of the free world. A more cynical woman would think someone upstairs had a few things to hide." She paused. "And a more loyal agent would never have mentioned these things to you."

Isidro leaned forward and rubbed his head. He was sweating already. "Please, dear God, someone tell me this was a break in."

"I wish I could, Mr. Delgado. But there are some things I'm just not willing to lie about. So I'm going to ask you, Mr. McCoy; do you know anything about Project Wideawake? At this point, I'm praying that you did something utterly illegal and made copies to cover your own interests."

Hank sighed. "I don't know a thing about Project Wideawake, Ms. Angstrom, but I'm going to see if anyone else does, as soon as I leave here. It seems that I may be back sooner than I expected."

Gloria gave a slight nod and a smile. "You may have made my year, Hank. You just may. And since you'll be leaving tonight, I have something for you to take back." She reached into her blazer and pulled out a blank, sealed envelope. "Inside this you will find full American citizenship for Kurt Wagner, right down to the social security number. We've even put in his permanent address at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters."

Hank hesitated, noting to the slight emphasis Gloria put on the word "permanent". Then he took the envelope from her hand.

Isidro gave a relieved sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "And here I was afraid he'd be deported."

Both Gloria and Hank looked back at him with stony calm.

"He doesn't understand, does he?" she asked in a conversational tone.

"Apparently not," Hank replied. "I'll leave the explanation to you."

Ms. Angstrom sat in her seat, primly folded her hands in her lap, and leaned forward. "Mister Delgado, in many ways it would be much better for your friend if he was deported. What I handed to Hank isn't freedom: it's a leash. Despite the fact that Mr. Wagner was operating against his will, under the most extreme duress we've ever seen, he still has the ability to waltz into any sensitive area by sheer will alone. Because of him, we've got a few million dollars worth of 'redecorating' going on at the Oval Office. Those of us with brains have been thanking God that Stryker didn't simply want the President dead, because in that case Mr. Wagner would have been able to get in and out without being intercepted or seen.

"And that has us all very, very nervous, Isidro. Here we have a foreign national, capable of evading capture and bypassing national boundaries at his whim, without even many records from his home country, thanks to his gypsy upbringing. And now that he's gone to ground, we'll never find him again. Or will we? Why, yes; yes, we have. In fact, he's at the same spot that the very worrisome 'Cat Who Walks Through Walls' is staying at as well: a certain university in Westchester, and he seems comfortable enough to stay there. So let's encourage it.

"The public has not known about Professor Xavier's school until recently. And with any luck, we've squashed that as flat as we can. However, certain members of the 'inner circle' have known mutants were being schooled there for over a decade. It would have driven Stryker into a rage if he realized that the President of the United States knew something about the school by the time he'd approached him.

"Until last year, everything was in a state of equilibrium. We had concerns that combat training might be going on here, but we also knew that a well-placed daisy-cutter or MOAB could balance the equation. Even the ones who didn't trust mutants had to admit it was nice to have a single spot to watch." She sighed and rubbed her left temple. "Colonel Stryker didn't see it that way, so he took a page from General Lemnitzer's book, with one big difference. Once Kennedy found out about Operation Northwoods he put Lemnitzer on a short leash; Stryker didn't give us the chance. And this little Black Op spread much, much farther than Cuba.

"But as Professor Charles Xavier has been uncommonly forthright with us, I think it's only right that we compromise as well. He didn't have to show up with Mr. Wagner in the Oval Office during that announcement, nor did he have to mention Katherine Pryde's influence. Some see saber-rattling: others see a polite notification that two security threats are now contained in his school, and can be monitored by anyone who cares to look. It's all how you see things, gentlemen. In any case, the last thing we can afford is out-and-out war with part of our own population." She stood up, and the other two men stood with her. "Besides: to justify a war with the so-called 'X-men', we'd have to give a reason, which would lead to Stryker's manipulations, then Alkali lake, and eventually we'd have to explain where Stryker's funds came from, and why his machine attacked millions of foreign nationals as well. And that would be such a sticky geopolitical situation...."

Hank cocked an eyebrow. "Surely everyone else has noticed the casualty figures radiate out from one particular spot in Canada?"

"Oh, yes, they have, but so far they don't have the proof that this had either mutant involvement or official sanction, so they're keeping their grumbles to a minimum."

"And if that proof ever surfaced, mutants wouldn't be the only ones on the chopping block," Isidro finished softly.

Gloria patted Isidro on the arm. "You learn fast, young grasshopper."

"I wish I didn't," Isidro replied. He was having a difficult time meeting Gloria's gaze. "This makes me feel like I need a shower."

"And that revulsion is what's going to make you a damn fine cop when you graduate."

"You... you still want me to go into the force? Even with my...." He gestured helplessly with his hands. "Mutant experience?"

"We have millions of police that have no mutant 'contamination', but precious few with first person experience. And unless we can reverse those numbers, what happened in Boston last year will only be the start of the kind of urban unrest and damage unseen since the Watts riots. You're going to finish your law enforcement training, and then you're getting placed where you're going to do the most good, because despite what the FOH thinks, we need people like you."

She gently steered him to the door, where Hank was already waiting. "Now, we've got a dinner date that I know Henry has been looking forward to for a while."

"Indeed!" Henry said. "I've been hoping to speak with Moira on a few of her theories for a while now."

He opened the door for his two comrades.

"And I assume you'll leave poor Nathan out in the cold again?" Gloria chided playfully.

"Let's just say he isn't nearly as cute."

All out. Door closed.

------

And down the street, in another hotel room with drawn curtains, a cleaning maid sat on the bed with what seemed to be a small transistor radio in her hand, listening in with a single earphone.

"Contact Mr. Sinister," the voice finished. "Advise of situation. Extraction necessary."

She lifted the small, disguised transmitter to her lips. "Acknowledged," she replied softly.

She sighed, shook her head, pulled out a cell phone from her pocket and dialed something much more complex than even an international phone number. Despite the ease with which roving calls could be intercepted, this was one conversation that would remain private.

It rang once before being answered by a modulated, serene, androgynous voice. "State the emergency"

"Sir, it is believed that you are in immediate danger of discovery."

Pause. "What leads to this assumption?"

"First, it appears that Stryker's files did have backups out of our reach. Apparently, Xavier managed to copy the hard drive. They're not sure how, sir."

"This was a known possibility, and not enough to warrant this conversation."

"Yes, sir. However, someone is also launching an assault on our servers. They began by using passwords assigned to roving base three, which has been incommunicado for over 36 hours now."

"Where was roving base three assigned during that time?"

The maid drew in a deep breath. "They were doing a shakedown of Unit 6, when they detected interference by the X-men. Unit six' cockpit was all that the hounds could send back, and there wasn't much left of it, either."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"A lot of our email server was compromised before they shut it all down," she went on. "MIS guarantees that your involvement will be traced. It's just a matter of when they can relay the information to the right people."

Despite the modulation, the androgynous voice actually sounded a bit stressed. "What are they proposing?"

"An extraction, sir. Before Henry McCoy can contact Xavier and exchange information."

"And this will be the precise extraction we previously discussed?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do it."

End conversation. The maid placed the cell phone back in her pocket, then turned the tiny communication relay to a local station and reclipped it to her lapel. She pulled the vacuum cleaner off her cart, and began to clean the room.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I must be shaking this writer's block pretty well, because I managed to get this part cranked out last night. :D

----------------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 4

Though Hank had been meeting both Moira and Nathaniel on a daily basis, they met for dinner as if they hadn't seen each other in months. For once, their discussions wouldn't be recorded, nor would they be so obviously guarded by the finest marines Washington had to offer. Right now, the only visible presence was Gloria, seated with them at their table.

Hank was by far the youngest of the group, a large, vibrant man in his late 20s, with wrists as big around as most men's elbows. By contrast, Nathaniel Essex was a mere toothpick. If viewed separately, one could see that Nathan stood a bit over six feet, a distinguished British gentleman in his 40s, his raven hair cut short and just beginning to gray at the temples. He shone of refinement, his tuxedo pressed and unblemished, his manners formal, polite, and impeccable. He would be better cast as James Bond than a world-classed, Nobel-prize-winning scientist. It wasn't fair to line him up next to the gentle giant that was Hank McCoy.

And Moira... well, Moira seemed to be trying to make herself look older and more dour, and her body was stubbornly refusing to go along. Her reddish-brown hair was cut just above shoulder length, in a style that might be convenient, but did the rest of her no justice whatsoever. She wore a style of clothing more befitting a stereotypical librarian from the 60s. Her flat, black pumps had seen better days, along with the change of several fashion seasons. And she never wore makeup. Ever. A waste of time, it was, and a waste of money besides. Either they'd want her for her mind, or not at all. With the way she tended to frown in concentration, it was a wonder that her face stayed free of such creases. But free of wrinkles it remained, and free of age spots and other blemishes. Despite her best efforts, there was still a pretty woman under all that frump.

That beauty poked through, even if just for a moment, as her face lit up at Hank, Gloria, and Isidro's approach. She raised her hand and gave a quick ascending whistle, just loud enough to be heard over the hubbub of dinner conversation.

"Oh, good, you chose a table this time," Hank said as he sat himself down.

"With how ye've carped about booths, ye think I'd do anything else?" Moira asked.

"I'm simply not designed for close quarters, Moira. Surely that would be most evident by now."

"That explains the Hum Vee in the parking garage," Nathan observed.

"Why does everyone assume I have to drive such an inefficient monstrosity? There are other forms of transportation with head clearance."

Nathan gave a slight smile as he raised his wineglass. "I've been able to triple the fuel efficiency on mine."

Hank's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You're serious?"

"I consider it a pet project." He sipped. "A pity it's too expensive to put into mass production."

Outside, the faint, but annoying, sound of a car alarm went off. Moira growled in irritation. "Can't I go anywhere in this damned country without hearin' one of those bloody things?"

"Once you hit the rural areas, yes, but I'm afraid it's a sad fact of urban life," Hank replied. "At least there are laws against them going off for more than a few minutes at a time--"

Gloria's left hand shot out to silence them. Her right pressed her earpiece closer. All stopped and stared at her. Out of the corner of his eye, Isidro caught movement on the table. He looked again, but it had stopped. Another car alarm went off, this one closer than the first. A few of the patrons were starting to look annoyed as well.

The movement happened again, and this time Isidro was watching for it: a subtle ripple in the wine of the half-filled glass. The hallmark of an earthquake... or....

"Is that an impact tremor?" he whispered.

Gloria's head whipped back over her shoulder, facing the rear of the restaurant.

"Shit," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Somewhere very close by, at least two cars collided. Then another, and another after that. The patrons looked around, confused and alarmed. At least one couple was watching the ripples in their glass. Isidro's chest tightened so much that it squeezed his heart up into his throat. His hands started trembling. They couldn't be here. They just couldn't.....

Agent Gloria Angstrom turned back to the rest of the table. "Run. Now."

In less than the time it took to stand away from the table, the reinforced kitchen wall exploded as if nothing more than a movie set of balsa wood and canvas. In its wake stood something out of Isidro and Hank's worst nightmares: an amplifier suit.

Gloria pulled her pistol as she leapt away from the table. "MOVE!"

She let off four shots in rapid succession as she ran to a less-occupied section of the restaurant. Come on you walking scrap heap, track me! The shots rang off of the suit's armor without so much as a scratch, burying themselves in the ceiling. But she had her wish. It turned to face her and extended an arm.

Before Hank even knew what he was doing, he picked up the heavy mahogany table and flung it at the suit's arm like an oversized discus. It contacted a split second before a deafening hail of shells erupted, generating a cloud of debris. Gloria fell and disappeared in the grayish cloud.

From then on it was insanity. Civilians ran everywhere. One "dining couple" pulled out weapons and gave cover fire while another tried to spirit their three charges away. The agents' actions were commendable, but ultimately futile. Anyone with a gun was cut down with a flick of the nightmare's metal wrist. Hank threw another table. This time it hit the suit in its "head", the housing for its sensor arrays. It spun and lurched for Hank, who barely managed to jump away in time. Was it out of shells?

Not unless it was released with less than half capacity, Hank thought as he dodged a second time. It wants me. And it probably wants Isidro as well. Scott was right: there's a mole here somewhere....

Now what would he do? If he lead it outside, God only knew how many cars and pedestrians would be crushed in the battle. But if they stayed in here, they'd bring the whole building down. Sooner or later, this thing was bound to hit a load bearing wall. And there was the little matter of a damaged kitchen....

As if some cruel god heard his thoughts, an explosion went up in the kitchen behind them. Leaking gas from the damaged ranges had finally caught, and the flames were spreading fast. From what he knew of the amplifier suit, not flames, nor smoke, nor even the complete collapse of the building would bother this robotic nightmare in the least. It was a shame no one else in the place was so lucky. Hank spared a moment to scan for his comrades, and caught sight of Nathaniel herding Moira and Isidro out the back way, perilously close to the flames. Close enough to confuse the suit's IR sensors, perhaps? The suit didn't even turn around. It must have worked.

Good move, Nathan, Hank thought. At least three of us are safe. Now I just need to extricate myself....

The ceiling groaned, and Hank's choice was made for him. He leapt through the window as a huge fist slammed down behind him. He'd misjudged his leap; forgotten how strong he was, or perhaps the thin nature of the glass. Something meant to put him on the sidewalk instead launched him halfway across the street, and into the path of a delivery truck. Hank hit the ground and sprung up again, a good twenty feet, and the truck sailed underneath him, the driver's panicky foot slamming on the brakes only after Hank had cleared the cab. Hank landed on top of the rear compartment and crouched low, watching the enemy for its next move.

Scott was right about this, too: once an X-man, always an X-man, he thought ruefully. I never thought I'd actually use this combat training again....

The amp suit was fighting to get clear of the timbers and pipes that rained down upon it. Apparently, that last blow was all the battered restaurant could stand, and it was coming down around the suit's metaphysical ears. But the debris was but an annoyance. Like a weightlifter kicking over trash cans, the suit muscled its way out of the burning wreckage. The place collapsed behind it, sending burning embers into the air.

Hank fought not to think of Gloria. She was probably already dead. He prayed Nathaniel had gotten Isidro and Moira clear in time.

And then he heard something that gave him hope. Above the crackling flames and creaking timbers, there rose the sound of helicopters, and they were flying very, very low. The armored suit looked up. In a strangely human move, it put its arm up to shield its head as an Apache attack helicopter unloaded thousands of rounds the size of railroad spikes. The walking tank staggered back, crouched against the chain gun's relentless assault, and didn't notice when another Apache came in from the other side and opened fire.

The UPS truck under Hank shuddered to life again. The driver had finally gotten it back into gear, and he was wasting no time in this war zone. Hank held onto the roof of the delivery van and crouched low, riding his ticket to freedom. Suddenly, a stray round hit Hank squarely in the shoulder, knocking him off the metal roof. He tried to twist, to land on all fours, and surprised himself by managing to land on both feet and his good arm. His left shoulder was completely numb, and bleeding badly. Bad. Very bad. Too many arteries to hit, too easy to bleed to death. If he passed out here....

Nathan was there beside him. His formerly black tuxedo was more of a charcoal gray, now, and ripped in several locations. He pulled Hank's right arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet.

"They've got F-16s on the way, Henry!" Nathan shouted over the barrage. "We can't hang around ground zero like this!"

Once Hank got to his feet, he could walk. Even run. He found himself looking for Scott and Jean again, waiting for their commands, just like old times. This was turning into a mission again, something he swore he'd never repeat. They rounded the corner, and the noise cut down to the point that they could speak.

"Moira and Isidro?" Hank asked.

"Safe."

"Gloria?"

"I don't know. Keep moving, Henry. The whole block's going to go up when the Apaches unleash their missiles, if not when the fighters come. Of all the places for that thing to strike, Washington DC might not have been the wisest move."

Nathan had a point. Considering the speed with which the Apaches got there, they must have been very close indeed, just waiting for the possibility of an assault like this. And the fighter jets were ready around the clock. They were under the same tight security umbrella that the President himself enjoyed. Nothing like having the military there to protect you, for once.

Nathan looked up with trepidation. "Oh dear."

He pulled Hank into a side alley and pushed both of them flat against the wall, in anticipation of a shockwave. His hand was oddly cool against Hank's bare neck. Hank heard the piercing scream of an F-16 as it flew over somewhere above them, but there was no accompanying boom. Had they decided not to bomb it after all? Would there be too much damage to the surrounding block? The Apaches must be equipped with Hellfire missiles: surely their radius wasn't that large? Once the scream died down, Hank realized that he was only listening to his own ears ringing. Even the shooting had stopped. His body trembled with shock and exhaustion. He tried to lift his head away from the wall... and found himself paralyzed. No matter what, he couldn't make himself move.

A thousand things raced through his mind. Nerve damage? Hysterical paralysis? Had the suit let off some sort of neurotoxin? He found himself slipping to the ground, an uncomfortable, "sticky" sensation on his neck where Nathan had touched him. He couldn't even move his eyes: he was forced to stare straight ahead at a beige stucco wall.

He heard Nathan's voice behind him. "Move it, we don't have much time. It sounds like it was recalled early."

Hank was lifted up by his arms. The asphalt rushed by beneath him as two people dragged him along.

An unfamiliar male voice said, "Jesus, he's heavy. You sure you have enough to knock him out in that slap pack?"

"Yes," Nathan answered. "Mind the shoulder. I don't want him bleeding to death."

A fender came into view. They were loading him into some kind of truck.

"It'd save a lot of problems if he did," that same voice grumbled. "One less freak in the world, y'know? One less guy who knows too much."

More hands grabbed his legs, and he was lifted entirely off the ground.

"Christ, buddy, go on a diet, willya?" a different man grunted.

"Do you want test subjects or don't you?" Nathan asked, his voice cold. "Must I remind you of the 'big picture'?"

They weren't gentle. The hard plastic floor of the vehicle scraped Hank's face, drawing blood. Something brushed against the back of his neck, and he was now certain there was a skin-absorbed slap pack firmly attached there. No wonder Nathan's hand felt so odd. As they shoved him further into the vehicle, Hank saw Moira and Isidro as well. Both unconscious, both bound and gagged.

Hank had finally uncovered their well-placed mole... but it was far, far too late to tell anyone. Nathan knelt by Hank's side, impassively watching with the same interest given to an insect collection.

"Unexpected," he mused. "They should have closed immediately. Well, we can't have your eyes drying out on the way there, can we, Henry?"

He reached out and closed Hank's eyes, his action disturbingly reminiscent of a mortician preparing a corpse for burial.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
User avatar
RavEnigma
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 211
Joined: Wed Dec 17, 2003 2:54 am
Location: Stalking Quicksilver!
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by RavEnigma »

:love Amy, you did it again.....another masterpiece! I can't wait for more, it's absotively posolutely fabulotastic! Keep up the great work!
:bunny Naz-Bunny Lover Club member #1

"God help the outcasts, or nobody will"

"That's not a cat, it's a minion of the antichrist!"

Pietro Fan Club Member #1
:evopietro = :love
LadyErin
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 293
Joined: Mon Jul 28, 2003 9:05 am
Location: Limbo
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by LadyErin »

Oh my, that was wonderful! Hopefully you can turn out more soon. And very very soon at that.
http://lady_erin.livejournal.com
:magneto
What do you mean, you "don't believe in homosexuality?" It's not like the Easter Bunny, your belief isn't necessary. ~~Lea DeLaria
Want to IM me? U2U me for the screenname.
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Secondary warning: there are a few racial epithets listed here. Epithets are horrid things, but when you're writing about hatred, and the nightmares it inspires, they're kind of hard to ignore... :shame

:
:
:


Sinister Designs: Chapter 5

Katherine Pryde was strapped to the table, nude, in the darkened room. It wasn't so much that there was no light at all, but it was dim, and things were oddly indistinct. There was a hand behind her, a huge robotic thing that supported her head like some demented pillow, but whenever she tried to move it squeezed her neck until she could barely breathe. Phasing was out of the question. The men around her wore lab coats, but their faces were blurred, like digitized, unwilling participants on a reality show. Their scalpels looked like felt pens.

Oh God, this is a dream. This is a dream. Wake up.

The drew on her words that cut and left her bleeding. Cut places no one should even touch. Jewess whore. Mutant traitor. Kike. Yid. Marimé. Filth. Voices alternately shouted and whispered echoing nonsense in the shadowy void around her.

Wake up. Wake UP!

The huge armored hand behind her locked into place, and she was now on the cockpit of an amplifier suit, while the faceless ones continued their writing, burning through flesh into bone. She was being prepared as a pilot.

Wake UP, dammit!

She forced her eyes open, forced herself to awaken, forced herself to look at the lit table lamp by her bed. She couldn't yet move anything but her eyelids. She laid there on her side, the nightmare scrabbling at the back of her mind, trying to drag her once more into its depths, lulling her with the false promise of sleep. The room, her room, darkened momentarily as the vision tried to reassert itself. She kept her eyes open. In a few seconds, the darkness was gone.

She blinked and moved her arms. Those indistinct voices suddenly snapped into focus as she looked around the dorm room. Jubilee and Siryn were talking in urgent, low tones; something about who had more information. They hadn't noticed Kate was awake yet. The door to the room was open, the hall lit brightly, and people were running up and down its length.

"Kitty?" someone whispered behind her.

Kate turned quickly and looked back at Rosa, their newest student. She sat on her own bed, dressed in Artie's jeans and Rhane's slightly oversized cable sweater, her knees tucked to her chest. Shaking and scared out of her mind.

"Rosa?" Kitty asked groggily. "What's... what's going on?"

"Theresa, I told you you were talking too loud!" Jubilee whispered harshly.

"Just because I can shatter glass doesn't mean I don't know how to be quiet!" Siryn shot back.

"No, no, it's all right," Kate told them as she sat up. "I was having a nightmare anyway."

"The metal thing, it took Hank," Rosa whimpered, her eyes brimming with tears. "Is on television."

When Rosa first arrived, not two days ago, she couldn't speak a word of English. After a few private sessions with Professor Xavier, she was up to basic conversation. Kate remembered that Xavier was supposed to have done the same with a few other students, notably Piotr, but hearing about something after the fact and seeing the changes were two different things entirely.

"Metal thing?" Kate repeated, looking from Rosa to Jubilee to Siryn.

"One of those damned, bloody suits," Theresa said. "Attacked the lot of them at dinner. Took Nathan, Isidro, and Moira too."

"Rhane's having fits," Jubilee added. "She wants to go down there and start tracking them or something."

"Oh, Jeez, that's right," Kitty muttered as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She noticed she was still in her clothes. "Moira's her godmother."

"Well, duh! She brought her to the institute last year herself!"

"What if it come here?" Rosa whispered in a choked voice. "What if it come for me again?"

Rosa was under so much stress that it was a wonder she wasn't "reverting" again. Kate reached out and gently grabbed Rosa's arm.

"Rosa, do you know what my power is?" Rosa shook her head, and Kitty continued, "I go through things like a ghost. And do you know what happens when I go through computers and electrical stuff?" Again, Rosa didn't know. "I kill them. I kill them deader than hell. That's why I'm always so careful around computers. I saw some of Hank and Scott's schematics on those suits. I know just where to go through them to cripple them. Okay?"

Rosa swallowed and nodded. At that instant, a flock of Jamies ran down the hall, each one stopping at a different doorway, including theirs.

"We got satellite photos," he panted. "They're on TV in the rec room."

Rosa gave a odd whine, and something moved under the sleeve in Kitty's grasp. Kitty looked back. That last bit of information must have done it: poor Rosa was changing.

Kitty held her breath. She'd often seen Rhane's transformation into a wolf, her face elongating into a muzzle, the fur blossoming onto her face and sweeping across her skin like a reddish-brown tide. Rosa's was similar, if with a far more disturbing result. One thing Rosa had over Rhane, though: when Rosa was finished, she could still wear clothing, even if the jeans just went down to her new "knees". Rhane was a bit more tricky: wolves and clothing didn't exactly mix.

Kitty looked back at Theresa and Jubilee, a pained grimace on her face. "Guys, I gotta get down there. Can you...?"

Theresa stepped in and gently guided Rosa off the bed. "C'mon, dearie, it's okay. You wanna come down with us?"

Kate didn't stay long enough to see the outcome: she left Jubilee and Siryn there as she phased through the bed down into the main hall. She slowed her descent just enough to avoid a broken ankle as she hit the hardwood floor running. The TV was on and blaring in the next room over.

"Again, a terrorist attack has happened in Washington DC, barely a mile from the White House. According to eyewitnesses, a large robot, standing anywhere between one and two stories high, popped out of a tractor-trailer and headed straight for the Jefferson-A Loews Hotel --"

Exactly where Hank was staying, Kate thought. Who the hell narked on them? Security should be tight as a drum!

She looked in the rec room. The boys must have learned about the news broadcast first, because they were all there, standing around the TV. The adults were all absent. Kitty "walked" up a few steps into the air and hovered near the ceiling for a better look. She was in luck: the newscasters chose that time to replay an overhead view of the battle. The amplifier suit was the exact same model as the ones that attacked the institute in March, and it was being peppered by a chain gun. Jamie was wrong, or these were different shots than what he had seen; those were much too low to be satellite photos, and the wrong angle besides. These had to be from someone's steady cam, maybe from the helicopter that was doing the shooting....

"You're seeing the view from the pilot of the Apache gunship as he fired on the unknown machine," the broadcaster said calmly. "Keep in mind the caliber of weapon being used, and note that the assailant is only suffering minor, cosmetic damage. The armor has been likened to that of an M1 Abrams...."

Makes an Abrams look like tin foil, Kitty thought. I've seen the metallurgical analysis. And where's Pete? Where's Bobby, Scott, even Kurt? Have they already gone? I didn't hear the Blackbird lift off....

The rest of the girls were thundering down the stairs, as well as a few more Jamies, one of which "winked out" as he passed under Kate. No one had noticed her up above them like that. Where were the teachers? Where were the Xmen?

She phased through the wall behind her. Maybe they were in the study. That was the easiest "war room" to get to. As she plunged through empty rooms and neared her goal, she could hear voices. Rhane's was the most shrill.

"Ye've got to take me with you!" she shouted. "I can track her! I can find her!"

"So can I, kiddo, and I'm bulletproof," Logan answered. "You ain't."

"Ye can't keep me out like this!"

Kitty stopped in the darkened hallway just outside the open door. Then she got on her hands and knees and peeked into the study, her head just a foot off the ground, hoping the lower position would keep her from being immediately spotted.

All the Xmen were there. All were in uniform. Every seat was taken, much of the floor was occupied, and Kurt, as usual, stuck to the ceiling like a big blue gecko. How he kept from getting dizzy with all his blood rushing to his head that way, Kitty would never know. Only Rhane and the professor were in "civilian" attire. The tension was too thick for a mere knife to cut. Cyclops was pacing around a small open spot on the floor. He always seemed to be pacing these days.

"Two minutes too late," he snarled, flexing his hands into fists. "Two damn minutes. Two more minutes, and we would have known about Nathan."

"Knew about Nathan"? What the hell? What was going on with Nathaniel? Unless.... No, he couldn't be... He'd known Hank and Moira for years. He couldn't be the informant....He wouldn't betray two close friends....

Iceman voiced the questions swirling around Katherine's mind. "What's happening with Nathan?"

"Turns out he and Mr. Sinister share an email address. And a whole shitload of other stuff," Logan growled.

White hot daggers went through Kate; through her heart, her lungs, her chest. Dear God, no. This couldn't be true....

"So he.. wasn't kidnapped with the rest of them?" Rogue asked, with slow, horrific realization in her voice.

"Can you say 'cover up' boys and girls? I knew you could."

"The whole thing was just a way for him to disappear before we blew the whistle," Cyclops added.

"They must have put all this into motion the second we started poking around in their systems," Storm said.

"Earlier," Xavier told her. "This must have been planned since they knew about Hank and Isidro's coming. That semi had been in the city for three days."

"Has Miss Angstrom been able to tell us anything else at all?" Kurt asked softly.

"Considering that she's undergoing emergency surgery, I doubt we'll hear anything for quite a while."

"At least we got one witness," Rogue muttered. "One who don't believe Magneto was behind it all."

"Where we going, prof?" Logan asked. "Say the word. We been ready all damn day."

"Ye've got to take me with you!" Rhane shouted again.

"Rhane! You aren't going and that's final!" Professor spoke sternly. "Even Scott isn't going! Someone has to guard the school!"

Colossus looked down at Cyclops with bewilderment. "You are not going?"

Cyclops whirled on Colossus. "You think I want to stay behind? You think I want to sit on my hands while God knows what happens to Hank? The fact is we can't leave this place undefended. You'll need Logan to track people down, Kurt to get them out of there, and Ororo to pilot the blackbird and take care of any high fliers." He poked Colossus in the chest. "And guess who gets to go toe-to-toe with those things? Especially if you meet another one with a forcefield?"

Cyclops looked down and away, forcing himself to something like a state of calm. For a second, Kitty swore he looked right at her. But the moment passed, and Cyclops didn't say a word about her.

"I'm the one who's mission replaceable, as far as skill and power goes," he said. "And I can take an enemy down before they get close to the school." He faced Iceman and Rogue. "And you guys are needed here, too. If I go down, you've got to take my power and keep shooting, Rogue. And Bobby--"

"You'd better rethink me not coming along," Iceman interrupted. "If we get to one of those labs, and we come across things like hydraulics, coolants for power plants -- maybe we just need to make the damn things slip up for a few feet."

"Bobby--"

"We're talking long range, untraceable, industrial sabotage!" Iceman exclaimed. "If we have to screw up the offices of FOH, and we don't want anyone to know we did it -- I've been practicing freezing anti-freeze, for God's sake! And the evidence will melt -- not even fingerprints!"

"I hate to say this, Scott, but Bobby has a point," Storm said. "If we want to 'gum up the works', he's going to be vital. Especially if we have to go somewhere that hides under a shroud of respectability."

"You think we'll have to take out Nathan's labs?" Logan asked.

"We might, but I doubt he's stupid enough to use them for this. Those photos...." Storm's voice caught. She swallowed and began again. "Those pictures were of small labs, not much larger than a portable classroom, and everything was bolted to the walls. You know what that says to me? Especially considering our 'friend's' habits of using semis?"

"Mobile labs," Kurt finished. "They could... they could be killing someone as they go down a highway, right next to a school bus. How do you track something like that down?"

Katherine scrambled back and leaned against the hallway. The Xmen were leaving on a mission to rescue Hank and the others. FOH was behind this. And Nathan was working for FOH. He was Mr. Sinister. Mister Goddamned "mutants are my lab rats" Sinister. Damn him. Kate's face flushed hot, her teeth clenched. Damn him! She'd read every theory that rat bastard put out! He'd earned two Nobel Peace Prizes! PEACE prizes! She idolized him! The world idolized him! And now.... Now he'd joined a bunch of hateful, vicious, ignorant pricks that wanted to maintain "genetic purity" at all costs. Maybe he was even leading them. The emails said he and Larry Trask were working together....

And she had idolized him. She sank through the floor, ashamed of the tears that welled in her eyes. In the study, the discussion went on.

"I was guessin' Cerebro," Rogue posed a tentative answer to Kurt's question. "Y'all found me with it two or three times."

"And if he ain't in the US anymore?" Logan asked. "Maybe he went back to Europe or Mexico or wherever he pulls this mad scientist crap?"

"No matter what, the Blackbird must be ready to go," Kurt said. "Cyclops, do you want me down there now?"

"I want everyone down there except Rhane and Rogue." He fixed Iceman with an unnerving, emotionless stare. "I don't like doing this, Bobby, but I like the idea of losing a tactical advantage even less. Don't you dare get killed on us."

"I just hope I don't run into my little brother," Iceman said quietly as he left the room. "It'd be just my luck to find he'd answered FOH's latest 'Soldiers of Purity' recruitment drive."
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
User avatar
RavEnigma
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 211
Joined: Wed Dec 17, 2003 2:54 am
Location: Stalking Quicksilver!
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by RavEnigma »

:clap Bravissima! I can't wait for more! But where is Sinister hiding? :? Please write more soon, mon ami!
:bunny Naz-Bunny Lover Club member #1

"God help the outcasts, or nobody will"

"That's not a cat, it's a minion of the antichrist!"

Pietro Fan Club Member #1
:evopietro = :love
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Holy Geez! I missed alot while I was gone. Very well done. You're killing me, I can't wait to find out what happens next.
one name: Bruce Campbell
LadyErin
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 293
Joined: Mon Jul 28, 2003 9:05 am
Location: Limbo
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by LadyErin »

Please Mael, I want som'ore. :D Hehe, sorry, had too! But seriously, this story? :love:love:love
http://lady_erin.livejournal.com
:magneto
What do you mean, you "don't believe in homosexuality?" It's not like the Easter Bunny, your belief isn't necessary. ~~Lea DeLaria
Want to IM me? U2U me for the screenname.
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

[quote]Originally posted by LadyErin
Please Mael, I want som'ore. :D [/quote]

More? You want some more? (gives evil Mr. Bumble laugh) I love a good subreference when I see it. And I have a lot of tolerance for the bad ones. ;)

As you can see, I'm introducing a lot of people in this one. I like to work with Kurt, of course, but in this case, I just couldn't get around the "group hug" of characters. :blush

---------------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 6


Hank hoped that he could "memorize" the twists and turns of the van. Perhaps he could use them to retrace his position. But then they loaded him into what felt like a crate, and from there he heard the distinct engine whine of a "big bird", at least a 727 class jet. So much for that idea.

Hurry up and find us, Xavier, he thought. This thing has to be plastered all over the news by now. You've got to be looking for us. For at least one of us.

He felt something placed on his head, like a circlet of metal.

"O-ho! Still conscious, are we, Henry?" Nathaniel's voice said with amusement. "Don't worry, I won't let you be bored for the trip."

:

How can someone tell when they go unconscious when their eyes are already closed? The cessation of sound, perhaps? A dream state? Someone calling out to you "wake up"? Hank had none of these clues, which struck him as a bit unfair. Nathaniel spoke his piece, and the next thing Hank knew he was opening his eyes to a hellishly bright light. He cried out in pain and surprise and squinted his eyes shut. By reflex he attempted to shade them. That was his first indicator that he was strapped down. In fact, he couldn't even move his head. It wasn't paralysis, but it was close.

Now that I can open my eyes, they've made sure it doesn't matter, he thought. Nathan, when I get out of this, I'm going to snap your neck.

Apparently he was alone in the room. Or, if not, whoever was there was being completely silent, and was deliberately not letting on that they knew Henry was awake. He tried moving his fingers and toes. That worked. They hadn't bothered encasing them. But he was bound at the wrists, ankles, elbows, knees, pelvis, shoulders, forehead.... They didn't secure psychotic cases this well to their beds. The straps were the tough industrial-grade web belts used for securing cars to flatbed trailers. Oh, and Hank was pretty sure he was nude. The light glaring down on him, likely some sort of halogen, provided a measure of warmth at least.

When his eyes finally got a bit more used to the piercing white that shone pink through his eyelids, he chanced opening his eyes again. Though it was a little difficult to see through the haze of white, he could make out the basic details. Apparantly he was alone, in what seemed to be a small testing room. No equipment that he could find, but since he couldn't move his head, his view was very limited. The room was a bit odd by his standards. He understood the need for tough, relatively sterile, brushed steel walls and ceiling, but the prison bars in front of him were a bizarre touch. A quick attempt at a weight shift told Hank the bed was solidly attached to the floor. So they made the room just for the purpose of keeping a subject bound... and having full view of them...

Even the infamous Soviet era "prisoner experiment" rooms had the decency to be fully enclosed, with just a viewing panel in the metal door. They didn't have the entire wall reduced to bars so everyone and their brother could watch the wretches in their death throws, like some sadistic sideshow....

"Henry, I'm honestly impressed," Nathaniel's hated voice said from somewhere past the prison bars. "I hadn't expected you to awaken this soon."

"Why, Nathan?" Hank asked.

" 'Why'?"

"Yes, Nathaniel. Why. Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain from allying yourself to mutant haters like Friends of Humanity?"

"This is the first decent conversation I've had from one of my test subjects for some time." The voice shifted, and coupled with the soft sound of footsteps, Hank could imagine Nathan walking closer down the hall. "All right, Henry. If you're going to keep your head so well, you deserve some answers for it."

Hank's bed began to tilt towards the wall of bars. Soon he was at a 60 degree angle. The light no longer shone directly in his eyes, and he could see past the bars now. There was another cell opposite him ten feet away. Like his, it had bars and featureless metal walls. He presumed his cell also had the same cement floor and small drain in the corner. The differences? First, there was no bed in the center of the other cell. Second, that cell had Moira and Isidro sprawled, unconscious, on the floor. At least Nathan had granted them some measure of dignity and allowed them to keep their clothing.

Nathan walked into the corridor between cells, dressed in ominously stained green scrubs. He looked down at the blood stains and smiled a bit.

"Please forgive the 'business casual' attire," he said. "You're not my only focus, you know."

"And here I expected you in a tuxedo with a few leggy assistants," Henry mumbled.

Nathan cocked an eyebrow. "And a white Angora or Persian to go with it? Too much Ian Fleming will rot your brain, Henry." He stood directly in front of the cell, hands loosely folded in front of him. "I can trade James Bond subrefrences with you all day, but somehow I doubt that's what's on your mind."

"Dammit, Nathan, you're one of the top geneticists and microbiologists in the world!" Hank blurted out. "You've got all the funding you could want, you've got government sanction for hundreds of projects, why are you doing this?"

"Ahh, yes, back to that. Why do I ally myself with petty little psychotics that want to stop evolution in its tracks?" His pleasant demeanor was all the more infuriating. "Well, they give me a far greater reach to test subjects than I'd ever be able to get on my own, they work for free, and they are persistent. The few mutants that die on the way here are more than made up for in the ones that survive their 'overenthusiastic' captors."

'Petty little psychotics'? Hank thought. That's hardly sympathetic.... In fact, it sounds like he's just using them... . Aloud, he asked, "The way you talk, they may as well be spilling water as killing people."

"You know the old saying, Henry: you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. They're a necessary evil at the moment. I'll jettison them soon enough, but not before they've outlived their usefulness."

"As I apparently have."

"Oh, come now, there's no need for that kind of surly tone."

"Surly? Surly? I've gone toe-to-toe with walking weapons platforms, watched people get turned into modern wall art, and had the man who I shared a friendship for ten years turn out to the next big Dr. Mengele! I think this has gone a bit beyond 'surly' by now!"

"Funny how you should mention him." Nathan examined his nails. "I can always tell someone's grade of education from that subreference. You have to admit we learned more about the human condition from him."

"I don't suppose you coordinated the Tuskegee Syphilis experiment too?"

Nathan smiled as he looked back up. "Not personally. I have very little interest in flatscans anymore, Henry. They're old news. A chapter of history about to be closed. We are the future, my friend. We are the ones who will take over." He looked above Hank, at the light, and then checked his watch. "We just need to make a few improvements first."

Hank's head went momentarily light. Something was tugging at him, as if he was on the verge of sleep, though he didn't feel drowsy at all. He closed his eyes for what he thought would only be a second, then found it an effort to open them again. His body trembled, the taut muscles twitching under his skin.

"Ah, there we go," Nathan said, a hint of smug triumph in his voice. "I really hadn't thought you'd be awake before the final phase, but consciousness will be an added bonus." He leaned forward. "It happened before, didn't it, Henry? You remember the sensation? Last year, seconds after the worst headache of your life?"

Oh God, no....

"Yes, by the looks of things, you do. I knew your secondary mutation had activated once. So many have, you know. Do you realize how many more subjects I've received since the general's little fiasco? Do you have any clue as to what that little tin soldier put into motion? If Stryker knew, he might have decided on a different method."

Hank forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at Nathan. The smug bastard was just standing there with his forearms resting on the bars, brazenly clasping his hands inside of Hank's cell. He even had one foot resting on the lower bar, like he was casually watching a zoo exhibit from behind the barrier.

"That's all this is to you?" Hank managed to spit out. "Some kind of exhibit? Something to watch?"

"Don't fight it, Henry. You know you won't win. You couldn't stop mother nature the first time. What chance do you have a second? This is your ultimate genetic potential I'm bringing out. Embrace it."

Hank jerked spasmodically, his whole body straining against the straps, and he felt a horrendous pain in his shoulder. He cried out, and his voice sounded deeper, distorted... even wrong.

"Mind the shoulder, Henry." If anything, Nathan's voice sounded even oilier. "Your shoulder blade may be intact, but the rest isn't very happy with you-"

"I'll kill you !" Hank screamed.

"Yes, I thought the testosterone levels would be shooting up about now. Thank you for the confirmation. What else do you have in store for me, Henry?"

At that point, a woman's voice called from the cell across from them both. "Nathan?"

Nathan looked around, mildly annoyed at Moira's interruption, but did not shift position. Moira scrambled on her hands and knees until she reached the bars. This had to be a nightmare. A hallucination brought on from injuries during their escape. A drug-induced aberration. Something! This couldn't be happening. She used the bars to haul herself to her feet, her eyes wide with horror.

Nathan gave a brief, irritated sigh and turned far enough so that he could see her correctly. "Woman, you have the absolutely worst timing-"

"Nathan, for the love of God, what are ye doing?" she shouted.

"I don't have time for you now. Cell four, shield down."

A thick Plexiglas plate slid down between Moira and the bars, so fast that she didn't have time to completely pull away. She lost the skin from her knuckles and was certain she'd broken at least two fingers. Blood streaming down the backs of her hands, she stood there, pressed against the glass. Hank's frighteningly distorted howls faded to almost nothing, making the sight of his agonized thrashing as surreal as it was horrible. And Nathaniel was just standing there, watching like it was some damned show. Moira half expected him to start pitching coins.

And then Hank's body began to change. His skin gained a blue tinge, then went completely blue, and finally the blue revealed itself to be shaggy fur, a good half inch long at least. The heavy straps that held him began to tear, like denim stretched too thin.

And Moira remembered that this had happened once before. Hank told her so last year. That after the "Worldwide Migraine", he come back to reality with his seemingly shrunken clothes in tatters, a layer of blue fur covering his body....

She pounded against the Plexiglas shield and screamed Hank's name. She knew it was futile; she had no hope of being heard, let alone breaking through. Blood dripped down her arms and spattered against the clear plate in front of her. The back of her hands were on fire, her fingers felt like they were being squeezed ever tighter in a vice, and she didn't care. She kept pounding, kept screaming, until someone grabbed her from behind.

"He can't hear you!" Isidro shouted over her cries, his voice ragged and uneven. "He can't! Don't wreck your hands like this!"

"Ya bowffing sasunnach! Yah basturt! Yah hoor!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her brogue too thick for Isidro to understand. She struggled wildly against him, her invective aimed squarely at Nathaniel. "Mon thenyeh fuckin erse!"

Nathaniel glanced back in the direction of Moira's cell without shifting his body. She must have been screeching like a proverbial harpy to be heard past the shielding. And from what little he made out between Henry's screams, the words were most unladylike.

"Going back to our lowland roots, are we, Moira?" he mumbled, turning his attention back to Hank. "Typical Scot; resorts to barbaric and infantile behavior at the least provocation."

Four of the straps were tearing, and the one over Hank's chest had completely snapped. Just the force of McCoy's rapid growth alone was enough to strain them. He may well break through all of his restraints, shoulder wound or not. Those subcutaneous sensors he put in should be recording all the biological changes by now, even if a few might be crushed by Henry's rapid muscle expansion. Nathan knew he probably should be back at the computer banks, watching the data stream, but he just couldn't pull away from this. It was one thing to see simulations, or even live data feeds. It simply didn't compare with watching the results in person.

Now each strap was showing signs of strain, and Henry's huge claw like hands were getting closer and closer to freedom. Nathan stepped back just beyond the bars. He'd best be prudent.

"Mister Dukes, I would appreciate your presence now, if you don't mind," he called.

"I wuz wonderin' when you'd want me in there," Duke's thick, gruff voice grunted.

Hank's hands were now free. The rest would follow soon.

"Cell three, shield down," Nathan said.

The Plexiglas shield slid down in front of the bars to Henry's cell, and the previously noisy hall was now almost silent again. If Nathaniel listened closely, he could still hear Isidro trying to calm Moira down, and Moira hurling invectives that would be better suited to a back-alley thug than a scientist. And, of course, there was Henry, but he wasn't so much screaming now as he was howling in anger. With all sound so muffled, it was easy to hear Fred Dukes as he entered the corridor a few seconds later.

Moira and Isidro silenced as a mountain of flesh lumbered into view. In all their life, neither had see anyone both so fat and so tall. Fred Dukes was a humongous monster of a man, the kind of person that sideshows of yesteryear would have exploited next to the "ape girl" and the three-headed cow from Pittsburgh. He stood over seven feet tall, but it was hard to get a good sense of perspective from someone with legs literally the size of tree trunks and a waist of well past 70". He wore something similar to an American varsity wrestler's uniform, which left his arms and legs free. His rolls of fat should have been jiggling with each step, but they didn't. Every part of him, every inch of skin, was as dense and unmoving as a lump of iron.

"Ol' Hank busted them straps yet?" he asked, looking over Nathaniel's head.

"Most of them," Nathaniel replied. "I think he'll be out of the rest soon."

By now, Hank was utterly unrecognizable. His already massive frame had grown heavier still, with even more muscles piled on top of those he already possessed. Underneath all that hair, his facial structure became more simian, and his teeth grew impressively thick, sharp incisors and bicuspids. His feet had grown much wider, with toes twice their original length, and his arms had lengthened so far that he could touch his knee without bending over.

And despite all this, Fred Dukes had him out-sized and out-massed. Fred grinned as he watched Henry rip out of the last of the straps and bounce from wall to wall in the confined cell, like an angry silverback. He hurled himself at the shielding full force. The Plexiglas vibrated, but it withstood the blow without chipping.

"Hey, I saw it move a little!" Fred laughed, pointing. "He's pretty strong!"

"And that shoulder must have been reconstructed along with the rest of his body," Nathanial mumbled to himself. "There's no signs of weakness or pain...."

Hank sprang off the bed, then the rear wall, and then feet first into the shield again. This time a hairline fissure appeared.

"All right, that's quite enough," Nathan stated. "Mister Dukes, I want him quieted down. He's not to be killed nor paralyzed. He still needs to be in halfway decent form."

Fred cracked his knuckles. "No spinals. Gotcha, Mister Sinister."

Nathaniel moved out of the way and Fred stepped up, his massive bulk taking up almost the entire entryway. He crouched down, grinning further as the foaming creature rebounded once again off the steadily cracking shield. He motioned with his fingertips for Hank to come forward.

"Come on, buddy," he taunted. "Come on. I got something for ya right here...."

"Are you prepared, Mister Dukes?" Nathaniel called from around the corner.

"Oh, yeah, I'm ready."

The bars and the cracked shield shot up with the same impressive speed. The thing that was once Hank McCoy leapt at Fred Dukes and wrapped himself around the massive man's neck and shoulders, biting and clawing with all he had.

"Hey! Watch the face, furball!" Dukes yelled.

Before Moira and Isidro's eyes, the mountainous pile of flesh grabbed Hank and slammed him into the cement floor, which spider webbed underneath them. Then he slammed Henry into the left wall, then the right, then finally tossed him into the far left corner. He left dents in the steel walls each time, and bits of the gray cement still clung to Hank's fur from the first blow. Finally he ripped the combined examination table and bed off of its stand, a stand that resembled hydraulic lifters found in a garage, and awkwardly used it to bludgeon Hank into submission. He finished his little attitude adjustment session by pinning Hank under the padded portion of the bed and pressing him into the already fractured floor.

"Nighty-night, Hanky," Fred panted, his grin as wide as ever.

Hank struggled for a bit, which encouraged Fred to push harder. Crumbled bits of foam leaked from the ripped vinyl and stuck to Hank's blue coat. In time, Hank stopped moving altogether. Fred eased up on the smothering pressure, then removed the implement for a good look at his victim. Too bad he couldn't see any swelling or bruises under any of the fur. Animals were like that. You could never tell. He kicked Henry in the stomach. Henry grunted, curled up a little, but not enough for him to have been fully conscious.

"Hey, guess you weren't faking, were ya?" Fred asked as he stepped back. "You're strong, fella. Give you that much. Stronger'n anyone else Sinister made here. But you ain't as strong as me. No one is. So if you still got a brain in there, you better remember that, or I'm gonna be back here again. Got it?" He backed out of the cell, still holding his improvised weapon, and called, "Okay, I'm done! Close up shop!"

The bars and shield slid down and locked into place. Nathaniel walked out with a small plastic box in his hand and viewed the wrecked cell with some dismay.

He pointed to the examination table in Fred's grasp. "Was that truly necessary? Those are expensive."

"He'd already warped it pretty bad by the time I got there. And all those rips in the vinyl were from him. I just finished the job." Fred rubbed his eye and cursed softly. "Little shit clawed me in the eye. I'm gonna have a shiner now. I hate it when I get stuff in my eye like that."

Nathan sighed and looked back in the cell. Dented walls, shattered floor, and irregular daggers of metal poking up where the bed had been. This was no place to hold a subject for viewing.

"So you've pacified him well, Mister Dukes?" he asked.

"He's KOed, if that's what you mean."

"Then I want him moved to cell one. Cell three will be closed for the duration."

Fred looked down at him while he rubbed his aching eye. "What, across from the nutcase? Thought you didn't want nobody in that one."

"I think the isolation stress tests have run their course for Richard Martin. Perhaps introducing Henry across the way might trigger something else useful in him."

Moira watched the conversation closely.

"They're sayin' somethin'," Moira muttered. "Somethin' about movin' him...."

"You can hear that?" Isidro asked.

"Nae, I read lips. Lost me hearin' for a while as a bairn...." She never took her eyes off of Nathan and his huge henchman. "They said somethin' about isolation tests .... And I think that's a name...."

Both bars and shield slid up again, and both Moira and Isidro watched silently as the huge guard dragged Henry out of the cell. He slung him under one arm and trundled off to the right, back the way he came.

"Jesus Cristo, tell me he's still breathing," Isidro whispered.

"Isidro?" Moira asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"I think there's someone in the cell next to us."

Neither one said anything. The idea that Nathan had other toys to play with didn't surprise them, but it horrified just the same. For his part, Nathan opened up the small box he'd been holding and removed a pair of sterile gloves. After donning them, he pulled forth a series of evidence gathering paraphernalia. Apparently, not a drop of Hank's blood, nor a strand of his hair, was going to go to waste.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

*shudders*:(Poor hank, nobody deserves that. Your take on Sinister is very evil, a hard thing to do, at least for me.

Though disturbing and sad, this is a good story:thumbup:thumbup
one name: Bruce Campbell
LadyErin
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 293
Joined: Mon Jul 28, 2003 9:05 am
Location: Limbo
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by LadyErin »

Originally posted by Maelstrom
More? You want some more? (gives evil Mr. Bumble laugh) I love a good subreference when I see it. And I have a lot of tolerance for the bad ones. ;)
And I'm always glad to provide one if I can.

And Thank you!
http://lady_erin.livejournal.com
:magneto
What do you mean, you "don't believe in homosexuality?" It's not like the Easter Bunny, your belief isn't necessary. ~~Lea DeLaria
Want to IM me? U2U me for the screenname.
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Originally posted by CurlyyHairGirl
*shudders*:(Poor hank, nobody deserves that. Your take on Sinister is very evil, a hard thing to do, at least for me.

Though disturbing and sad, this is a good story:thumbup:thumbup
:shame Unfortunately, evil of this degree is all too easy for me to approximate in fiction. You don't have to look too hard to find it. The Tuskegee experiment I mentioned? The USSR prisoner experimentation? Necklacing? And even that little throwaway line previously about "Operation Northwoods"? All of those are 100% real, 100% depraved, and 100% current. Operation Northwoods is from 1963, only recently declassified, and we're not quite sure how many political prisoners wer experimented on during the reign of the KGB. (From what I heard, previous to 1990, Russia had this distressing habit of keeping triplicate records about an individual, and which one you saw depended solely on what clearance you had. All three said radically different things, and all three could well be wrong.) The Tuskegee Syphilis experiment went on for two generations and stopped only in the early 1970s, and it was performed in the USA by doctors who were SUPPOSED to have taken a Hippocratic Oath.

And... Lord help us... "necklacing" is still performed by mob justice in places we don't see. It's one of the reasons my version of Storm is a bit more cutting, more worldy-wise and angry, than the original weather goddess from the comic. Storm grew up in Africa, which has recently given us such stellar examples of how not to run a county as:

* Ruwandan, Burundi, and Sudanese genocide
* Child soldiers (though these exist in lots of other places, too....)
* Congoese and Nigerian corruption on a wide scale
* Muslim extremism/terrorism
* Tribal and ethnic violence, made much, much worse by the collapsed Colonialism of the 1800s.
* Female Circumcision

This isn't to say that Africa is some sort of back-asward hell hole full of "ignorant savages". But it's not the lovely, pure place that so many think of when they envision the Savanna in all its beauty. Basically, they've got the same crap going on as high profile places like (the former) Yugoslavia. It's just that while everyone knows about the quagmire that is the Middle East, the stuff that happens in the interior has only recently made the press. If Storm was retconned to be about 30 now, she would have grown up in aftermath of the 1967 war, with religious extremism everywhere she looked, Apartheid a lethal threat (until recently), and tribal and ethnic violence flaring up in hotspots around the county. The fact she lost her parents during a war fits perfectly; it's just that her life was probably a bit harder and meaner on the streets, and perhaps even in parts of the interior, than the comics let on. She probably escaped to the "wilds" specifically to avoid it all, and then limited her contact to less powerful tribes that didn't have any axe to grind.

The hardest part about writing in a "real world" style like this isn't the face of evil. Oddly enough, it's in keeping optomists like Xavier and Kurt true to character in the face of this kind of recurring evil. Xavier may not be a saint (see the "Is Xavier a [censored] thread" for more ;) ), but in the face of public condemnation, government hostility, and what had to be the horrid abuse of many of his students before they came to his school, he's managed to keep from turning into something closer to Magneto. And Kurt gets to deal with the age-old "what kind of loving God would put you through this" problem every time someone screams demon (mutant, monster, etc.) and lights a torch.

Examining someone who can still believe, after it would seem all hope should have been crushed, is the most challenging thing for me. :scratch
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
DaggerNailsYuriko
Lubber
Lubber
Posts: 3
Joined: Sat Aug 07, 2004 8:47 pm
Location: No. California

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by DaggerNailsYuriko »

Hi!

It is great to finally be able to get signed up in here and see your writing again. As ever it's an addiction that remains unsated for your stuff and right away I zeroed in. I'll mostly be a lurker for the time being I'm afraid.

Btw, it was really great sharing the room with you at the con and sorry if I snored badly - and sorry about the early wakeups on that Fri. and Sat. My knee is finally feeling better lately as long as I'm careful. I think I'm pretty much done getting autographs like that for awhile, but the LOTR people were special. Now it's pretty much over.

As always, I look forward to more on 'Sinister Designs' and Nightcrawler! I still have to do alot of looking around in here when I can.

See you,

A.
Post Reply