XIII
Prologue
Floating. I think that's what they call it. Floating, somewhere between asleep and awake. Sounds echo far away though they're right there, indistinct, muffled though they're mere inches from you. Faint sensation, tingling in the fingers and toes, though nothing else. You can feel your eyelids flutter but there's no light, no shapes, your eyes have rolled back. You're so deep down.
But she wasn't so deep, she could still feel, still hear with a mote of clarity. She could feel she was on her back, and she could hear voices bouncing around her. And all the while her body pulsed with pain. Dear god did it hurt, but there wasn't the capacity to move, or to do little more than groan at it.
My god...is it coming around?
No, sir. We're keeping XIII floating until we can finish with the nervous system mapping.
So...it can feel all of this?
Mostly.
Poor thing.
I am not a thing. I am a human being.
No. No she wasn't. Not in the eyes of those that tore her apart, that butterflied her forearms from wrist to elbow and cut the bones out. That drilled steel nodes straight into her skull so they could track her brain activity. No. She wasn't human. She was an experiment.
She was L'Cie. She meant nothing.
Pain crackled through her arms, gnawing and scraping up and down the length of her, and all she could do was groan. She could feel her head slumping back and forth against a table in some sluggish form of protest, and then felt something warm splash against her face. It was her own blood, a surgeon having struck a vein as he carved out the radius in her left arm. The bones grew back, or at least they would given a few minutes. Fibers congealed from a pale, chalky gel secretion and lengthened, criss-crossing into what it had once been. Bones, marrow in the middle and everything. Three times, thrice for either arm the bones were removed, cleaned, and then passed off to another technician in a suit on a metal tray to take to another area of the computer crowded lab.
Let me see that structure schematic.
Here it is.
Shit...we've gotta do all that?
It's money, innit'? Just get busy or it'll heal up before we even start.
And they would have to work fast indeed to make this work, even with the immune-suppressive drugs being pumped through their subject at a rate that would have any normal person dead from the sniffles. Anything to keep the metabolism from keeping pace.
Pulling, pinching, stabbing, slicing. Gods, she could feel it. Air on muscle fibers, felt like rose thorns and razor blades. The pain radiated as they built an entirely new muscle group amongst those that were already there, forcing it with all the care of a rabid dog into the nook formed where the radius and ulna join at the elbow. It would go from there to just shy of the wrist.
She twisted against their hands, pulling only a little though she swore she felt her body lift from the table. To the surgeons it was just a jerk of her shoulders, barely noticeable, and a grunt of pained gibberish.
In that other area, more so another room entirely, there was a great commotion, a numbing whining of a high powered motor. Mindful of a diagram, a technician was grinding the bones down, forming them into something else. A set of six claw like blades, or that's what they would be after the next step. Marrow dust hung in the air, the stink of blood coupled with it. Freshly sharpened down to a paper thin fraction of its original shape, they were passed off once again. This time to a technician in a bright yellow hazmat suit. You couldn't see his face through the tinted plexiglass visor, and he took the bones with just a simple nod.
He would take them down the length of a corridor to a separate room, a room with six foot thick walls lined with lead and concrete. There was radiation in here, and gods knew nobody wanted a taste of that when they showed up for work.
Steady waves of radiation was the only thing that would make the material pliable enough for bonding, otherwise the shit was nigh on indestructible. And would be again once it cooled. There was a small vat of the liquified metal kept in a vault in this room, and through a massive glass observation window, you could see the red glowing of the reactor on the other side. The tech slid the vault open after putting in the necessary security code and only paused a moment to look into the bubbling, argent goo that writhed in the pickle bucket sized container in front of him.
Adamantium they called it.
One by one he took a pair of metal tongs, pinching the end of the bone claws to dip them into the vat. There was a low hissing, some bubbling as the metal bonded and burned the bone, and once it stopped, he lifted the newly formed claw out. In seconds the adamantium set. And that was that. With that completed, the claws were returned to the room they started in. They had to be sharpened.
Adamantium was funny shit. Wasn't much different from the mineral it shared a name with in that it could be damaged and worn away by itself. So, with this being said, it should come as no surprised that an adamantium plate would be needed on the grinder to get the razor edge the company was demanding.
Who's the company? I'll get to that.
Sparks flew, igniting the air in dying stars as metal struck metal, the whining of the motor overwhelmed with a horrible screech.
Hurry up in there, will ya? Shit's killin' my ears!
Can't move any faster than the machine will allow. So take the damn things and be happy. Besides, you sound like you got it so rough.
I'm sick of lookin' at it. Gonna need to wash off with steel wool to feel better.
Well the sooner you stop bitching and finish your job, the sooner we can all go home.
Blow me.
You'd enjoy it too much.
She could feel the metal was cool. It sent a shiver through her livid body that even the surgeons picked up on. Everything stopped for a second, as if all of them were just waiting for her to jump off the table and kill each and every last one of them. There was even a collective sigh of relief when nothing happened.
The metal was cold, her rent flesh scalding hot, and each claw was set into the newly structured muscle groups and held fast with an organic epoxy. Just until the metabolism caught up and grew around them as theorized.
How's the nervous system mapping?
Just about finished, sir. Once we're done, we'll be able to see everything as it happens during the bonding process.
Good...good. How much longer?
Gimme ten minutes.
You have five. Hurry up.
Yessir.
Will we doing the bonding tonight, sir?
First thing in the morning.
Yes, sir.
Bonding? The hell was that supposed to mean? The only bonding she could stand to consider was that of her foot to the nearest backside. Now if she could just get feeling back in her legs.
Gimme that tape over there.
Aren't you going to stitch it?
Why? It'll seal up just fine on it's own, just need somethin' to hold it together.
Lazy cunt.
Yeah, yeah.
The pain would fade little by little, as her consciousness would, and she fell asleep on the table.
(–)
The man was bald, had glasses, and looked like the dorky doctor type. Which is exactly what he was."We need someone rather desperately, and you were the best we could find on such short notice that was actually available."
A woman of no more than mid-twenties sat across from the older man, pale rose bangs framing her brilliant cerulean eyes. They searched him over, her expression flat. "Uh-huh. So what is it you need? And I want specifics."
"Well, I'm not exactly at liberty to give many specifics."
"Then I guess this meeting's over."
"No, wait," he put out his hands, pleading, "I'll tell you what I can. You understand this is very sensitive stuff we're dealing with."
She would've gotten up, right as rain she would've, had done it before and was more than able. But she remained in her seat across from him. "Okay, that'll do if the price is right."
The older gentleman adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "I'm part of a joint-government weapons research group. We're going into a very crucial project at the moment, and we want extra hands on our security detail."
"What kind of weapons are we talking about?" She knew it had to be more than just guns, or even ICBMs, if he was being so hush-hush.
His lined features tightened, and he was slow to respond. "Well..."
"Okay, never mind." she nodded, understanding. "At least tell me who I'll be working for."
"Well, as head of security you'll answer to me and our project head, Mr. Rosch."
"That's not what I meant." there was a small smirk on her mouth. "Who's signing my checks? PSICOM?"
"Actually...yes."
"I see."
"I suppose that may be a problem?"
"No. Money's money." though now she had a sinking feeling of what was going down. She'd worked for PSICOM before, and it was never...black and white work. So the gods only knew what they were cooking up these days.
"So what's the salary?"
"Name your price." he smiled, somewhat smug. "That's how eager we are to bring you on board. We like your track record and know you could be a real asset."
She nodded, quiet at first. "I want ten thousand up front. And I'm bringing in my own gear."
"Done."
"Two thousand a month, and twenty-five thousand at the expiration of the contract."
"Done. Anything else?"
"What can you offer?"
"Private lodgings on base, guaranteed weekend passes...what else do you want?"
"That actually sounds pretty good."
"I have the file of everything you'll need to know right here." he slid the manilla folder across the slick table surface, watched with a quiet enthusiasm as she flipped it open and began to peruse it's contents.
"So tell me," she said after a long moment, quiet. "What happened to the last guy? Or should I not ask?"
"Well..."
"Yeah, never mind."
"So...you'll do it?"
"If the money's green enough...you got yourself a deal."
"Fantastic. I really appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Farron."
"Call me Lightning."
"Very well...Lightning," he thought the monicker weird, and it showed in the wavering of his vocal tone. "The briefing is tomorrow night, come ready to start."
"Always do."
(–)
So deep down.
Deeper than last time, but still vaguely aware. She could feel a pulsing pain in her arms still, like something cutting from the insides, but fuck all if she wanted to move them. No response, not even the slightest. And there was the sensation of bee stings all over. Her skull, her back, her legs, her hands, her chest, and it went down to the bone. Her muscles shook loosely at the sensation.
She could just remember moving, motion under her, something like that. The shifting of weight was distinct, but everything else was fuzzy, dull to her fractured thoughts turned to putty from the heavy doses of thorazine. She could remember a faint buzzing against her scalp, too, the itch of hair against her cheek. They'd cut it clean off, left her bald, sheared like a slaughter sheep so they would have clean flesh to work with. But it was already starting to grow back, dark, thick, and wild.
Two technicians were rolling the subject down the corridor on a gurney, one of them looking decidedly fatigued.
I can't wait for this job to be over.
The day just started.
Nah, I mean this whole thing. I'm gettin' sick of it.
And you think the rest of us aren't?
Yeah, I know...I guess I'm just tired of haulin' this thing around.
I don't know man, I think she's kind a cute.
Yeah, if you swing for freaks. I say nuke the whole damn lot of them.
That's not exactly our place to say, man. Just suck it up and do the work. The sooner it gets done, the sooner we all get to go home.
Wish you'd stop sayin' that.
Wish you would stop giving me reason too.
Into an elevator and up one floor, and then down another corridor.
There was a room above the reactor, its walls and floors thick enough to keep any occupants relatively safe from the radiation, and this was the technicians' destination. The first thing was to put on the hazmat suits that had been hung up by the door by the prep team that had been in there only minutes before, and they did so at a leisurely if not begrudged pace.
She heard the dull whirr of zippers pulling up, the rasp of plastic rubbing against plastic. Then she felt hands on her, gripping, lifting her up and moving her again.
There was a heavy lead hatch in the floor of this room, large and thick enough for two grown men to just barely be able to lift it. They pulled it up, the red glow from the reactor below filling the room.
Shit, it's movin'.
Then give me the thorazine drip, I'll hook that up first.
A faint stab, thick pressure for a split second, then a chill she felt in her veins. Everything was starting to feel lighter.
Let's be quick about it, don't want any more exposure than what's necessary.
I hear that.
So many wires, tubes, cords, all of them leading up to a massive nest of electronics mounted in the ceiling. And that was only half of it. There were what looked like spines all over her body, anchored in her flesh, and hollow. Each and every one of them touched a bone, the tips of syringes scraping into hard resistance. Each of them had to be hooked up as well, connected to the incredible nest of adamantium reservoirs that lay below, heated by the reactor so its contents remained in a liquid state.
Lastly, after all the connections were made and confirmed, a tether was cinched about the subject's waist. They'd have to pull her back out again.
On three.
Ready.
Up. Then down, splash, then floating again, now physically as well as mentally. There was water, but she could still breathe. Something plastic, horrible tasting was stuck in her mouth, feeding her oxygen. She wanted to spit it out. The water was warm, almost too warm, and she could feel her arms being pulled downward with an unusual weight.
Now it was time for the next phase of the experiment. Which would be conducted from the safety of a separate room.
Lightning, now head of security and donning black fatigues, watched from a far corner of the room at all the busybodies moving around her. White coats in a blur between computer monitors and terminals, science jargon being hurled about like ping-pong balls. Everyone was trying to go between their apparent duties, and crowding around a large viewing screen that had yet to turn on, leaving only the blackened sheen of a moving reflection. They were all so excited, and from what Lightning could understand, rightfully so. This, so she had been told, was either going to be a scientific breakthrough of biblical proportions, or an equally sizable failure.
Though Lightning found herself dwelling from time to time on the second most still figure in the room. A massive brute of a man that stood in a very similar fashion to herself against a wall near the large screen. His hair was long, straight, only slightly tamed, and was the strangest mixture of black, violet, and gray she had ever seen. Wild tufts of hair grew along the hinge of his jaw, just there, and he seemed positively beastly in a sleeveless shirt that exposed the tattoo of XII on his upper arm. That and his ears were pricked. She had been listening, heard most of the doctors call him Twelve, others used his call-sign Tusk, and only one other used what had to be his given name. Caius. And that only one was a little girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old with strangely silver, long hair, that stood seemingly connected to his leg. She had a tattoo also. IX.
"I don't see why this is necessary." Caius grumbled to a doctor that stood near him.
"It's just a test," it was a woman, blond haired and big-busted. "We just want to see if it works."
"And if it does?"
"You mentioned your willingness to undergo the procedure. This is just less of a risk. It took us this long just to find someone with a mutation similar to yours."
"I didn't know you cared."
"I don't."
And with that Caius just huffed. Then he looked down to the girl hanging on the waist of his pants. "You should not be here, Yeul."
"I want to see." was her meek reply.
Lightning found herself staring, and then she turned away with the slightest shake of her head. L'Cie are some twisted fucks.
Then the room suddenly went still and into a tizzy at the same time. A tizzy of sound that is, as the massive screen blinked to life. Red light bathed the room and the dozen heads that filled it. They could see into the reactor, into the water where XIII – dubbed so by a numerical tattoo on her left arm- was naked and bobbing like a dead fish, twisted up in cords and wires, eyes shut, fingers and toes twitching occasionally. Then there was a sudden rush, doctors and technicians scrambling to their designated stations. Again, more ping-pong jargon.
"Nervous system map?" it was Rosch who spoke, hands behind his back as he stood up straight, looking at the large monitor. He stood in the middle of the room, directing everything from there.
"One-hundred percent." a smaller monitor lit up with a digital recreation of XIII's nervous system, every nerve shimmering like mercury.
"Cardiotach?"
"Online...heart rate is normal. Pulse is stable."
"Got some funky activity in the brain. Like it's fightnin' to wake up."
"Increase the thorazine dosage."
"But it's already pushin' it, sir."
"Do it."
"A'right." a minute or two passed. "That seems to have worked. Otherwise...we're ready to go."
"Then let's begin." Rosch nodded once. "Start the feed."
She would feel it almost immediately, though it was dull at first. Heat. Incredible heat, searing straight to her bones. It burned...hotter, hotter, sweet gods, it burned.
"Steady."
"Feed."
"Suffusion?"
"Suffusion enacting, sir."
"Cardiotach?"
"Rising."
Lightning found herself unable to blink, watching undivided as liquid metal coursed through tubes and directly into that woman's body. There was a jerk in the limbs, the legs and chest, a blind thrashing. Poor thing was feeling it bad.
"Feed."
"Impeded."
"Compensate."
"Resistance."
"Maintain."
"Feed steady."
"Cardiotach?"
"Rising. Gettin' dangerous."
"Stabilize."
The thrashing was getting worse, clouds of bubbles erupting from the respirator, becoming more frequent. XIII's back arched sharply. Then it curled, fetal and rigid, pulling inward at the incredible, burning pain.
"Cardiotach?" his voice had roughened, perhaps his own adrenaline getting to him.
"Still rising. Poor thing's ticker's gonna pop, sir."
"Stabilize."
"It's gonna OD on the thorazine if we're not careful."
"Do it!"
Lightning watched the technician shake his head and follow through with the order. Her eyes strayed to the little girl, saw her watching the monitor as closely as everyone else. There was no emotion on her face, though an inquisitiveness to her eyes. She watched Caius kneel down beside the girl.
"What do you feel?" he asked quietly.
"Confusion...anger...she wants to die."
Caius looked up, taking in the image on the screen. "I would imagine so."
"Feed."
"Steady."
"Reservoirs?"
"Fifty percent."
"Suffusion?"
"Steady."
"Cardiotach?"
"High as a kite but holding steady."
"Maintain."
"This thing's skull's all lit up." and all heads seemed to turn at that moment to see the digital mess on the monitor. He wasn't kidding.
Lightning could feel her fists tightening from the place tucked against her arms. Watching this was starting to get pretty damn difficult. Normally she wouldn't care, L'Cie aren't people, but this was rough. No one should have to endure this. I mean, hot liquid metal bonded to your bones. That's not even something you wish on your enemy. That's too cruel.
The thrashing was so violent now. So much pain.
"Reservoirs?"
"Twenty-five percent, almost home."
"Cardiotach?"
"Steady."
"Suffusion?"
"Steady."
"Compound feed."
"Resistance."
"Maintain."
"Detecting symptoms of radiation poisoning," came the cautionary and vaulted tone of the big-busted doctor. Someone in the room gasped, looking at the monitor, seeing the developing sores on XIII's skin, chunks of flesh dissolving and split apart. They were healing as fast as they were forming, but that surely did nothing for the pure agony the L'Cie was surely feeling.
"Nervous system?"
"Showing signs of overload, sir." the mercury on the screen had become a mess of stars, all of them going supernova, representing the firing of nerves beset with pain.
"Metabolism?"
"Maintaining. It's actively fighting back...at everything!"
"If we suppress it the radiation could kill her."
"Maintain. Reservoirs?"
"Five percent remaining."
"Suffusion?"
"Stable."
"If this thing pulls through, I won't be surprised if it's brain dead."
Lightning was finding herself steadily amazed at the unanimous lack of genuine concern. It really was just an experiment to them.
"Reservoirs depleted."
"Cardiotach?"
"Leveling out."
Everyone watched with bated breath as XIII grew still, the thrashing steadily ceasing, the muscles loosening, sores closing.
"Everythin's quietenin' down." the statement had a degree of awe to it. "It's still alive."
"Amazing." Rosch grinned in approval, nodding once.
Caius still crouched beside Yeul, an arm around her comparatively tiny body. "What are you feeling now?"
"Nothing. Like...static. She's aware...yet unaware."
"Perhaps that's better. Come, let's go."
"All right."
"Let's get XIII under observation and prep for the next phase, people. No time like the present." came Rosch's barking of orders. The room was alight with movement and noise once again.
Lightning moved slowly, unwinding from the tight charges of energy that had been filling the room to the brim for the last half hour. My god. Who knew PSICOM was up to shit like this? Naturally she should've guessed, but...and to think the poor thing lived through it. Though there was no telling what remained of whoever it had been. Lightning had felt it though.
Something died.
She left the room, deciding she needed a coffee break.
(–)
Cow flop. She heard them say it, the sound crackling as if over a radio transmission. Cow flop. When you're there but not really there. The lights are on but no one's home. The engine's running but nobody's in the driver seat.
That felt about right.
Now she lay in a darkened cell, on the floor, nestled amongst a mess of cords, plastic coated wires and tubing. She shifted, feeling the ends of them pulling against her skin. They were attached, in her veins, her guts, keeping track of everything; heart rate, blood pressure, even the faint need to tap a kidney. Everything.
And there was pain, still so much pain. A dull burning in her bones and sandpaper sensation to her flesh. She moved against it, feeling her body vibrate with a groan. Her eyes opened, green, both vibrant and dull with an absence of awareness. That's when she heard the voice, someone saying she was cow-flopped.
The radiation might've burned it right out.
But who wouldn't be after such a horrible dream? It was so damn real, so vivid, so fucking painful. The kind of pain that scorched your brains to sludge, left you feeling only half there, half dead. Though she could feel her body fighting it, struggling to recover. It was trying to push out the wires, the tubes keeping her nourished. But no dice. They were stuck like a bad habit. They weren't coming out.
Then her arms...Ragnarok's piss, did they hurt. From wrist to elbow it felt like they were split open, ripped from the inside out. She started to move. She needed to get up, needed to know what was going on. But all she could manage was a slight slump forward, her head lolling on her neck, eyes down. Her vision blurred, blood pressure spiking from the small movement, she found her hands, found herself fixed on them. She could feel her fingers again.
The digits flexed one by one, slowly, intentionally, then all together. Once, twice, three times, the last one with some purchase.
And that's when it happened. And it happened so fast, she didn't know what hit her. Not at first.
Blood spurt, no, gushed from the wounds that ripped open in her hands, between the fingers as the eight inch claws thrust forward with all the force of a steel trap. Snikt. That was the sound they made and it was coupled with the distinct splat of blood on a metal floor. She couldn't scream, couldn't find the sound in her, her body lurching forward and crashing to one side, the round of her shoulder smacking hard. Her mouth and eyes gaped, mortified, rivulets of crimson oozing down her palms and white hot pain shooting through her arms. In the dull glow of consoles in the wall she could make it out, the shimmer of her own blood dripping from the blades coming out of her hands. Out of her god damn hands!
Now she could scream, and the sounds were more akin to guttural roaring as the fear had given way to fury. There were no words, no expletives, just noise rattling out of her chest as her body writhed, arms clutching against her. A stray jerk of her head laid her cheek wide open, cut to the bone, the adamantium coating it now slightly tarnished. A sharp twist, a twitch of movement, and she was on her hands and perched on the balls of her feet. She had to get the pressure off of her skin, anything to take the edge off. The claws whined against the floor.
The door of the cell suddenly slid back, and in stepped someone in a white coat. Big mistake, he never could've guessed XIII's reaction to his presence. It was completely instinctual, and utterly destructive. She leaped at him, sprang forward in two great strides, and stuck him like a pig. Split him from crotch to collar bone as he gagged on the sudden flooding of blood into his lungs. The corpse crumpled there, just shy of the doorway, but all XIII could see was a way out, into the light of the corridor beyond.
A siren went off.
Security! Security report to A-Block immediately!
It was mere seconds before the entirety of the designated sector thundered with heavy footfalls, thick leather soles stomping in quick succession. Footprints tracking through a puddle of blood is what they found, a trail leading down the next passage. Wires had been cut, ripped free, and laid about the ground like dead snakes. Then there was the telling BLAM of a discharged firearm. The guards went running headlong into it.
Commander Lightning, your orders are to subdue and restrain XIII. Only non-lethal action is permitted.
"Understood." though she didn't like the sound of it. Something this dangerous, from what little she had seen just now, needed to be snuffed out. If for no other reason than its own good. "Fan out, no one goes anywhere alone, notify me as soon as you have a visual." and she pulled a compression pistol from a holster on her thigh before moving forward with the rest of the security detail.
All they had to do was follow the screaming, the trail of bodies. They would find XIII well enough, cornered at a dead end, the remnants of its latest victim spattered against the wall. XIII whipped around, wild green eyes affixed, and its face twisted into a savage snarl. It hunched, hands clutched into bloodied fists, claws forward and trembling with the tension that wracked the L'Cie's body. Then it screamed, a horrible shriek of a sound that was pure rage and nothing more, unbridled fury. The radiation had dulled its ability to think beyond instinct, to express beyond primitive noises. It left XIII stripped and raw. It came at them, muscles rippling, blood dripping in streams from the claws, teeth bared. Roaring.
There was no hesitation, no wasted time in giving the order, the security detail reacted. Guns raised, leveled, and opened wide.
It was a reflex, Lightning moved, dropping to one knee as she raised her pistol. Her head tilted into her shoulder, one eye squeezing shut, she leveled the sight on XIII's torso, and let her finger move on its own. One, two, three, eventually all six tranq darts in the magazine were discharged. Four hit XIII in the abdomen, causing the L'Cie to stagger, but it still pushed forward. It would eviscerate two more security officers before the sedative took full effect. Its wild eyes would roll back, the fury snuffed like a candle under a single breath, and it hit the floor face first. Like flipping a switch, and down it went. The claws slowly slid back, slipped out of sight with the slightest note of metal on metal.
In time the bodies would be gathered up, the blood washed away with a high pressure hose, and XIII was taken back to its cell. Almost like it never happened. But we all know it did, as did everyone in the lab that night. And there was footage from the security cameras that Lightning was forced to go over, perhaps discover some previously unseen mishap that lead up to the incident.
No. There was no mishap. That doctor had just been fucking stupid, going in there by himself being his grandest mistake. And that L'Cie was nothing but a monster. If it had been something resembling human, that similarity was long gone.
Still, Lightning found some sympathy. Poor thing went through hell. Guess it was only fair it got some payback. When she finished watching the footage she turned the monitor off, now alone in her personal quarters, and put her face in her hands. A heavy breath worked its way out of her, and for a long while she was still in the rolling chair, her elbows propped on the desk.
Author's Note: Don't know where this is going to go, to be honest. It's plaguing me like a zit on my backside, more so than Lords of Chaos at the moment. Do enjoy. And don't worry, it will eventually be romantic FLight. I'm actually taking a lot of cues from the Weapon X Saga by Berry Windsor-Smith on this, but I intend to further exploit my own twists as it goes on. And thanks to my reviewers and their flattering requests, but I'm already married. Also, I have some drawings for this AU on DA. Check 'em out if it pleases you. Thank you all for your patience as well. You're real troopers.