Silver Fox heard the baby cry. She looked across the room at where LDM sat in the blue carry cot, the robot moved in a semblance of life under the woollen blankets, but the wailing she could hear didn't originate from the automaton. Shocked she moved to the front of the motel room, and her hand reached for to the blue faded drapes just as the first scream rang out from across the Motel car park. There was no time to think, her instincts asserted themselves accessing her psychic senses. Silver Fox's mind reached through the closed door to be met by the unmistakable pang of violent death. Earlier that day Silver Fox had told Richard Parker that she knew that Logan had not passed from this life. The same could not be said for the SHIELD agents outside. Together they'd worked in the field, and together they'd found love among the all the bad business of espionage, walked down the aisle, held each other's hand as Peter was born. Now together they lay dead, the sense of what happened flooded into her imagination, but not the how.
Next heart beat saw Silver fox fall to the ground, a gun man, it had to be, she could feel the Parker's mortal injuries, as if a gaping hole had been opened in her own chest. Silver Fox gasped for breath, and squatting low, she crouched below the window line. Peter Parker cried outside on the tarmac. Silver Fox had a choice to make.
Less than an hour ago Mary Parker had interrupted her life. Richard's wife hadn't used the front door, because she figured that someone just could be watching. Mary's argument was two people went in that way, so two people should leave, and it was best that "she was never here". Mrs Parker had squeezed through the narrow bathroom window at the rear of the Motel with more grace than the idea suggested, moments before Peter Parker secured in a navy carry cot, very like the SHIELD LDM issue, had been passed through to Richard. Mary had brought her infant son; in her haste she had no other choice.
Silver Fox had found Mary's story difficult to process. After giving birth to Peter, Mary had worked in SHIELD's Washington headquarters, but she was a first a field agent, with those skills and habits. During her day to day work Mary had uncovered evidence that SHIELD had been compromised. Specifically person or persons unknown had accessed the details of Richard's current operation. The evidence pointed to only one conclusion someone was tracking Richard and Silver Fox, and they all knew what that could mean. Not knowing who to trust in her organisation Mary Parker felt she had only one option, and that was to warn her husband that his cover had been compromised.
Silver Fox concentrated on her internal senses, angry – why she wondered had they failed so badly? Silver Fox had not foreseen this threat; and this had contributed to her scepticism with regards to Mary Parker's story; guilt gnawed at her, she had been wrong, and at a terrible cost Mary had been proved right. Even as Silver Fox probed the surrounding landscape with her second sight, the signature of the shooter remained indistinct, adding confusion to the mix. Such a brutal double homicide should have disturbed the etheric field, as if leaving a red bloody footprint on pure white snow, but whoever was responsible for the hit had muddied their tracks. She knew it was possible with the right training to learn tricks of psychic camouflage, it didn't require any super human talent, but it did require a very disciplined mind, and when killing an utterly cold heart.
Whoever had killed Richard and Mary hadn't given a damn.
That insight revealed much to her. She did care - she cared too much, had been too preoccupied with what might have happened to Logan and the Kent boy, her deep felt emotions had clouded her judgement and her vision. Silver Fox recognised the limits of mind based powers, she understood how her psychological condition impacted her performance as much as an athlete's physical condition impacted on their track times. She realised had been distracted, effectively lamed, and now Richard and Mary Parker were dead. Peter was orphaned.
This bitter realisation shocked her into action.
Okay she thought, right now she couldn't rely on her second sight, and she couldn't be certain that the shooter would be satisfied with two down, but she couldn't leave the baby crying in the twilight outside, alone in the night.
Silver Fox reached up, grabbed the door handle and slid outside. Night was coming, the dark rolled on from west, and the shadows offered some cover, but as she stepped forward onto the parking lot she did under the glare of the street lights. Peter was crying, he was bleeding from a cut to his head, she told herself not to panic, that head wounds always bleed profusely, even the minor ones. Reaching down she picked up the baby, and ignored the fallen carry cot. Using the blanket he still clung to she stemmed the blood welling from Peter's head. She ran to the rental car Richard had hired, there was no point in subterfuge now; she had exposed herself rescuing the child. If the shooter was still here, then she'd know anytime.
Silver Fox cranked the engine into life, she reasoned luck was on her side, as she hadn't been shot. Mary had been right all along. By leaving together the Parkers had done their duty. They'd made sure if anyone was out there, watching the motel, then they'd have seen Richard and Silver Fox leaving. Two in two out. It had, with the benefit of hindsight been a terrible gamble; although at the time none of them had really believed it to be. How could Mary or Richard known about the hidden gunman? That kind of foresight was her skill set.
This choice, Mary exchanging places with her, so Silver Fox could leave later by the bathroom window; walking out of the motel room with Richard, had cost the Parkers their lives. It was an awful legacy to carry, but first her duty now lay with their orphaned son. For the second time in this life, Silver Fox found herself in charge of an infant, one had been extraordinary from the moment he had arrived, but Peter was ordinary, human, and in need of medical attention, and after that? Silver Fox knew Richard had family, a brother who had served, and a man who Jonathan Kent believed in, someone who could be trusted. Silver Fox would head back to New York.
-(*)-
Abraham Cornellius sat in Luthor's private office suite within the Secret Luthor Corp Yukon Facility. Rooms richly appointed in a contemporary minimalist fashion, black leather, white and chrome fixtures. Cornellius watched the large screen wall mounted monitor, video playback showed Weapon X. The subject vaulted across the floor of the laboratory towards Lionel. The speed of the recording had been adjusted, dialled back. Slow motion replay made these explosive and violent movements appear graceful, and Abraham was glad for that; glad the brutality was diluted. The blood spray hung in the air. It appeared other worldly and moved like molasses on glass, not falling like hot rain as he remembered. He could see himself, cowering under the command console, a shape in the shadows, to the left of Lionel Luthor. The billionaire appeared statue still, which was accurate, as he barely moved except maybe to break into a smile throughout the seconds following Weapon-X's explosive return to consciousness. Abraham chose not to relive this moment, but instead to distance himself from it – to review the event as a dispassionate observer.
The glass containment vessel had shattered; the subject had emerged cutting through the support staff who had the misfortune to stand in his way. Weapon-X's bestial rage was terrifying. Abraham remembered glancing at the numbers, and he had being shocked at the volume of adrenaline that had been pumped into Weapon-X's system moments before; the resulting berserker madness was explained by this irregularity. His first thought was to blame had been human error, the dreaded misplaced decimal point had created many anomalies in scientific studies and popular culture. Cornellius' second thought was darker, and now he was certain correct. Lionel had deliberately arranged this. The adrenaline jolt intended to bring Weapon-X out of his drug induced coma had been delivered at a dose ten times that of his specific.
"The subject again demonstrated resistance to your conditioning protocols." Luthor stated.
"He was over stimulated." Cornellius observed.
His boss took a slug of whiskey from the cut glass tumbler in his hand, and kicked back in his chair as if he was watching a game. "Perhaps, but I needed to test a theory. I needed to know why the first memory adjustment protocol failed. I needed to push Weapon-X beyond the optimal, to test the conditioning under extraordinary circumstances."
Confirmation though Abraham, Lionel had done this as test – a test that had claimed the lives of five technicians and changed for ever the lives of as many more. Yet Abraham couldn't deny the facts. After Logan's previous escape, almost ten years before, Cornellius had extensively revised his memory altering drug regime. Adding to this inter cranial intervention; physical brain scrambling to specific regions, this should have erased the Subjects memories. Yet Weapon-X had emerged hyped on a massive adrenaline rush able to recognise and so target the one man in the room who was ultimately responsible for his condition. He drew new conclusions based on this data. "He may lay down memories into his wider nervous system." Abraham suggested.
Luthor nodded. "That was my theory, literally a gut feeling, whether instinctual or on some level conscious Weapon-X retained enough of his old identity to single me out."
"I will adjust the regime again." Abraham rubbed his hands together, trying to come up with solutions to this. Truth be told he was running out of options.
"Third time lucky" Lionel noted.
Cornellius winced. Luthor had demanded from the outset an obedient super-soldier, one who would follow orders without question. The brainwashing process had been successfully trialled in a number of human test subjects prior to the Subject's selection. They needed someone able to survive the Adamantium Bonding Process, initially this seemed an impossible, there had been failures, but this individual's incredible accelerating regenerative mutation made him an ideal candidate, his claws were a bonus, but this same mutative advantage had conversely made the established memory adjustment protocol less effective. A problem that only came to light shortly before the original procedure had been scheduled to take place. Weapon-X had emerged early from his drug induced coma - for as yet still unexplained reasons, and promptly escaped. Logan had gone onto hide in plain sight of Lionel's extensive clandestine operation, working on the Kent Farm in British Columbia, albeit with extensive sub dermal appearance altering implants, adopting the alias Jimmy Olsen.
"This is my favourite part." Lionel said. The video played on in slow excruciating motion, and Weapon-X's hands were raised, the metal blades that extended from them gleamed, muscles tensed to leap at the statue like bearded billionaire, so to deliver the killing blow.
At the last moment, Weapon-X snapped back his head, his teeth bared, as if he was a dog caught at the limit of an invisible leash. His kill strike fell short, broken mid stride, he tumbled to his knees.
"On this occasion," Lionel said with a broad smile, "I had a plan b."
Abraham Cornellius looked at the older man and waited for his theatrical reveal. He had worked with Lionel long enough to know how he enjoyed moments like this, enjoyed asserting his genius.
"By the way, it was Silver Fox." Luthor said. "Who engineered the subjects escape, last time." He took a swig of his generous drink. "I'm certain now she must have interfered with his drug regime, you wouldn't have noticed that, not while she battered her eyelashes at you."
Cornelius swallowed hard, and stared at his feet. It was inevitable that Silver Fox's duplicity would reflect badly on him, on this facility. "If so, she must had hexed me and the others, with her mutant powers." He mumbled.
Luthor laughed. It was an unexpected reaction from him, Abraham looked up at him wide eyed.
"Hell she must had worked on both of us." Lionel confessed. It was a rare admission from him of fallibility, and Abraham felt he'd been thrown a life line.
"If she hadn't been here to screw us over," Luthor continued, "then I expect the subject would have undergone the previous Admantium Bonding Process successfully." His boss leant forward. "Are you aware of what that would have meant?" Lionel asked.
Abraham considered this possible alternative history, what might have happened if Logan hadn't emerged from his drug induced coma early, after a moment of thought he said. "I suppose it could have all been a great deal worse." Lionel gave an encouraging nod, so he continued saying, "given that the conditioning process – because the subjects unique physiology, had not properly taken hold."
Luthor agreed, saying. "Yes the process was flawed in this case; had it worked as expected, had his conditioning proved stable, then waking the subject early would have achieved nothing, because he would have done nothing, not without orders from me."
Abraham nodded in agreement, and said. "We would have had a rogue weapon on our hands, one with full advantages of that earlier Admantium Bonding Process."
"Yes – exactly, that is my point Doctor." Luthor agreed. "Such a weapon would have been formidable, and with the subjects original personality in place, unpredictable, and worse uncontrollable." Lionel frowned deeply The billionaire at once became more menacing, in tone and body language, leaning forward, staring at him, saying. "And this time we risked the same disaster only more so. A rogue weapon with all the added advantages of my hybrid alloy nano mesh; Adamantonite, bonded to his skeleton and those oh so wicked claws."
Cornellius felt the blame settle on his shoulders once more. "Err, the subject's reaction was unexpected, of course, but so was the erroneous adrenaline dose." Abraham noted, quickly he said. "Sir, I don't understand how you stopped Weapon-X, but obviously I'm glad you did. Otherwise you're very right, we'd all be dead, and he'd be on the run, driven by whatever is left of his memory and identity, doing God knows what. So again I'm very grateful that you had a plan b. I owe you my life."
Was this it Abraham wondered? He was kind of relieved, after so long, for an ending to this life of service to Lionel. Any ending seemed good enough, even a final one.
"It was me." A voice declared, out of nowhere or so it seemed. Cornellius tried to understand, he was by any measure a very intelligent, if somewhat timid man, his lack of courage sometimes blunted his intellect, but despite his instinct to withdraw into himself, he sensed something was amiss with his perceptions. That there was something at the periphery of his vision, something - no someone hidden in the shadows.
"Well at Lionel's invitation of course." The disembodied voice added.
"I should introduce you," Lionel chuckled. "This is an old colleague of mine. Doctor Abraham Cornellius, I'd like you to meet Mr Maxwell Lord."
A man emerged from the shadows, like an image once blurred now focused properly. Lord was dressed in sharp black suit, he wore a silk polo necked shirt, also black.
"Can I get you a drink?" His employer asked Lord, shaking his own tumbler; the ice clinked against the glass.
"No thank you Lionel, I'm fine, though the Professor looks like he needs one."
Maxwell Lord appeared to be in his late twenties at most. Abraham was troubled by this; how was such a young man an 'old colleague' of man in his seventies? It was an anomaly that he felt unable to question; his own position within the organisation was too precarious. He instead smiled at the other man, and said to Lionel. "Pleased, I'm sure, and yes I think I will have a drink."
Maxwell Lord crossed to the bar. In the time it took Lord to pour him a generous measure of the billionaire's liquor gave Cornellius time to reflect on events, in particuler what had happened to Weapon-X on the laboratory floor, how the subject been stopped before he could deliver the kill strike.
As he took the glass from the outstretched hand of the younger man he looked over at Lionel bemused by his conclusion. "Mr Lord has the ability to influence minds." He ventured.
"Impressive isn't it." Lionel confirmed "Brought Weapon-X to heel under extreme conditions."
"You're too kind." Max replied. "It took me several seconds to control what was essentially an empty vessel, a man running on base instinct, without a memory or sense of self."
Lord sat down, and lounged in a black leather seat, close to Lionel's own. Max sipped his own drink. Then said. "It's an interesting case – this mutant. I think Doctor Cornellius need not be too hard on himself. I don't think any intervention on a medical level was going to be sufficient to bring the beast to heel."
Lionel nodded. "That's why I brought you into this Max." The Billionaire smiled, it appeared self-congratulatory.
"I imagine controlling someone so single minded is actually harder than someone with a myriad of thoughts ongoing?" Abraham asked Lord. He then had a troubling second thought; second guessing himself.
Maxwell Lord titled his head, and then nodded. "Correct Professor, it is often that way. The single minded are much harder to distract." He paused and placed his glass on Luthor's desk. Max folded his arms across his chest, saying. "And yes Doctor you don't know – can't know, whether that observation was your conclusion, or whether I influenced you, nudged your thoughts in the right direction."
Lionel laughed again, as if amused by this disturbing notion, and emptied his whiskey glass. "Doctor Cornellius I want you to work with Max. I need my super-soldier brought to a place where he's ready and willing to follow my orders." Lionel placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I'm sure together you'll deliver me a functional Weapon-X. One I can deploy in the field."
Cornellius was dumbfounded. How could Lionel trust a man who could by his own admission influence and even control another human being? Abraham wondered who was he working for - really working for; was it the old devil he knew, Lionel Luthor, or the new devil he didn't know, Maxwell Lord?