The steady stream of men and women continued their everyday jobs, with no
idea of the event that had recently taken place. To them it was just
another ordinary, simple day.
But nothing about today was ordinary.
He leaned back in his chair, as he did so his eyes alighted upon the report lying unobtrusively open on his desk.
He had already read it numerous times, enough times to memorise it. One if his plans had finally succeeded. A member of Mutant was no longer a threat to him, or to anyone as a matter of fact.
She was dead.
Shalimar Fox. He had memorised her file, all of their files. No they enemy, was a code he had taken to heart. He new their strengths, their weaknesses, he new them almost as well as they new themselves.
All the times he had seen her or fought her flooded his mind. Images, conversations memories of other reports swarmed around him until he regained control and shut them out.
None of those memories mattered any more. She was dead.
Curiously, this fact did not bring him the satisfaction it should have. He had been battling Mutant X or others like them for many years. Time after time they had spoiled his carefully laid plans and schemes.
This death, her death, should have brought at least a small amount of joy. But instead he felt a diminutive amount of sadness and regret.
Regret that he had not succeeded in his attempts to turn them, her, to his way of thinking. Regret that a powerful, for she was extremely powerful, mutant was no longer in his reach. And regret that she died the way she did, not in battle, but in a sneak attack, an ambush. She had not gone down fighting, she had deserved at least that much.
He felt at that momnet, some sympathy for her. Not for Adam and his freaks though. He felt no sympathy for them. Maybe when they to had passed he would feel it.
He also felt guilt, a small amount, but still he felt guilt. If Adam counted himself the "Father" of all new mutants, then he, Mason Eckhart, would surely be an Uncle. Though he blamed Adam for the creation of those freaks, he felt at least some responsibility. Not much. But still enough to warrant a small twinge of guilt every time was of them lost their life.
Mutant X would be grieving right now. They would be fragile. If he ordered an attack, they might actually be defeated. But he wouldn't, not now. They deserved time to grieve for their loss.
He knew what it was like to grieve for a loved one. He would give them their time.
So as he sat in his office, he mourned her loss, in his own way. For a small amount of time he would grieve. Tomorrow was another day and he had a job to do. He carefully closed the folder on his desk and did something Mutant X couldn't do.
He moved on.
But nothing about today was ordinary.
He leaned back in his chair, as he did so his eyes alighted upon the report lying unobtrusively open on his desk.
He had already read it numerous times, enough times to memorise it. One if his plans had finally succeeded. A member of Mutant was no longer a threat to him, or to anyone as a matter of fact.
She was dead.
Shalimar Fox. He had memorised her file, all of their files. No they enemy, was a code he had taken to heart. He new their strengths, their weaknesses, he new them almost as well as they new themselves.
All the times he had seen her or fought her flooded his mind. Images, conversations memories of other reports swarmed around him until he regained control and shut them out.
None of those memories mattered any more. She was dead.
Curiously, this fact did not bring him the satisfaction it should have. He had been battling Mutant X or others like them for many years. Time after time they had spoiled his carefully laid plans and schemes.
This death, her death, should have brought at least a small amount of joy. But instead he felt a diminutive amount of sadness and regret.
Regret that he had not succeeded in his attempts to turn them, her, to his way of thinking. Regret that a powerful, for she was extremely powerful, mutant was no longer in his reach. And regret that she died the way she did, not in battle, but in a sneak attack, an ambush. She had not gone down fighting, she had deserved at least that much.
He felt at that momnet, some sympathy for her. Not for Adam and his freaks though. He felt no sympathy for them. Maybe when they to had passed he would feel it.
He also felt guilt, a small amount, but still he felt guilt. If Adam counted himself the "Father" of all new mutants, then he, Mason Eckhart, would surely be an Uncle. Though he blamed Adam for the creation of those freaks, he felt at least some responsibility. Not much. But still enough to warrant a small twinge of guilt every time was of them lost their life.
Mutant X would be grieving right now. They would be fragile. If he ordered an attack, they might actually be defeated. But he wouldn't, not now. They deserved time to grieve for their loss.
He knew what it was like to grieve for a loved one. He would give them their time.
So as he sat in his office, he mourned her loss, in his own way. For a small amount of time he would grieve. Tomorrow was another day and he had a job to do. He carefully closed the folder on his desk and did something Mutant X couldn't do.
He moved on.