Title: The Dopplegang Effect
Author: Becka
Chapter 14: Origins
o
Groaning softly, he opened his eyes. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and it seemed as though he was looking at everything through a haze of red. Otherwise, he seemed to be in a somewhat cozy bedroom. /Where am I? The last thing I remember is that lab. Sinister said I'd boost my powers... but why is everything tinted red? C'mon, Xan, wake up!/
/Wait. Xan? Who's Xan?/
Dual sat up quickly, and his body cried out in protest. He felt... well, he felt like he'd been run over by a truck on the highway, then bounced off the tires of every car that followed. On the other hand, the dark-haired mutant could _feel_ his body pulsing with energy. It was disconcerting. Half of him wanted to curl up into a little ball and nap the rest of the day away, and the other half of him felt as though he could run a triathlon in under ten minutes.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mirror on the wall. He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled over to it. He had no idea what to expect.
The reflection that stared back at him offered no answers. The man's face in the mirror was that of a complete stranger, washed in red: shaggy hair, slightly crooked nose that looked like it might have been broken once or twice, full lips. His eyes were bright red. Well, everything was red, but somehow he knew that was because his irises were solid red save the black pupil at the center.
/Talk about looking at the world through rose-colored glasses,/ his mind-voice quipped sarcastically.
Tentatively, he smiled at his reflection. That seemed familiar enough. However, his canines seemed to be a bit sharper than the rest of his teeth; if he'd seen them on anyone else, he'd have called them fangs.
He backed away from the mirror and took a moment to glance around. The room seemed Spartan enough. There were no posters on the walls, and other than the bed, there was a desk littered with anti-human propaganda, and several bookshelves. Browsing through the titles, he found it was teeming with literature about the next evolution of the human race and how humans persecuted mutants simply because they couldn't handle accepting and embracing fate. There was also a TV/VCR combo in the corner and a stack of videotapes. Curiously, he popped one in.
His eyes widened a little as a young child, obviously a mutant, screamed as he was tortured by a group of scientists. Whoever's room this was seemed to be a fanatic for Sinister's cause.
There was a knock on the door, and he quickly turned the television off. He cleared his throat and said hesitantly, "Come in."
Sinister stepped through, the ever-present maniacal smile on his face. "You're awake," he said, stating the obvious. "I took it upon myself to move you to your old quarters while you were recovering. I didn't think you'd mind."
Dual shook his head quickly. "Umm... no. This is... my room? All of this stuff-" he waved a hand at the shelves, "-is mine?"
The older man nodded and said proudly, "You were one of my most... vigilant... generals. You used to say you kept all of this so that you'd never forget what it is you fight for."
The dark-haired man took a moment to process the information. None of this seemed like anything he would do, but then, he was a stranger to himself so he really wouldn't know. After all, Sinister had destroyed an entire enemy base just to rescue him, so he must have been really important to the man. But wouldn't he feel _something_ when looking at all this stuff that he supposedly lived by?
Sinister asked gently, "How do you feel?"
"Pretty shitty," Dual answered honestly, grateful the other man was there to distract him. "Did... did the treatment work?"
The other mutant's smile widened. "We shall have to see, won't we? But I feel fairly confidant in saying yes."
"Why's that?"
Sinister pointed to a spot behind him, and Dual turned his head to look. As he peeked cautiously over his shoulder, he felt the blood drain from his face. A forked tail waved cheerfully at him, and it only took him a moment to realize that he was the one controlling it.
o
Dual followed Sinister timidly down the hall, listening with a half-ear to what the other man said. It wasn't as though he wasn't interested in what his Master was talking about. It was just... he had an angel's wings and a demon's tail, blood red eyes and a set of teeth that would make anyone flinch. He looked like some child's description of a monster, and _that_ was a bit more pressing to him.
After about five minutes, they reached their destination. Sinister called it the Control Room. The name had bothered Dual a little bit, but the older mutant had explained it was the true base of their operations. State-of-the-art technology greeted his eyes, and his gaze was unwillingly drawn to the largest monitor where a man's picture was being displayed. His stomach did several flip-flops and he pointed to the image and asked, "Who's that?"
"That?" Sinister glanced at the picture. "That is one of the human-lovers we fight against. He is known as Wolverine."
That didn't sound right to Dual. Remembering that mutants were big on codenames he asked, "Does he go by any other names?"
Sinister sniffed disdainfully, but answered, "I believe he is known to his teammates as Logan."
:: "Yeah," he felt himself grin. "Yeah, I'm sure. What's your name, by the way?"
"Logan. I don't know where I'm goin'..." Logan smiled at him, "but yer welcome fer the ride." ::
"Logan." Dual tested the sound of it on his tongue and nodded. "So, what's his picture doing up there?"
The older mutant indicated for Dual to take a seat before responding, "This serves two purposes. First, you have no real memories because of what was done to you. You need to know your enemies before you can fight them. And second?" Sinister laughed, "We must see what the enhancer did to you. These are all mutants you've fought before, and the contact may have left its mark."
"I might be able to do what they can do?" If that was the case, no wonder his body was teeming with energy.
"We shall see," his Master replied. "Now, Wolverine has very delicate senses: heightened hearing, smell, taste, etc. We've also seen him heal himself from grievous injuries. Last, his skeleton is fused with adamantium." As Dual's confused looked, he explained, "Adamantium is the strongest metal known to... anyone. It makes him nearly impossible to kill."
The image on the screen changed to a second picture of Logan, and against his will, Dual flinched. The man was gutting another mutant, and the madness in his eyes was tangible. Two sets of wicked claws extended from each hand, and there was blood on the snarling mouth.
Sinister continued smoothly, "As you can see, he's a wild animal. You probably have his senses, and his regenerative abilities, but the metal that was fused onto his skeleton had nothing to do with his mutation."
Dual stared at the image, and an image of Logan smiling at him and tossing him a beer flashed in his mind. He shook his head furiously, trying to get rid of it. The man was his enemy, for fucksake. He looked up at his Master and said, "I can hear someone whispering halfway across the compound, and I know they're sorely in need of a shower, so I guess that answers _that_. As for healing myself..." He reached down to his boot, then paused. He knew he carried a pocketknife. He _knew_ it.
Smiling, he said, "I remember something. I always carry a pocketknife, right? Do you know where it is?"
The older mutant reached into the folds of his clothing and pulled a small knife free. He tossed it to Dual who caught it, still grinning.
Flicking it open, he nicked himself on his thumb. A moment later, the wound healed over and he held up his hand proudly, showing his Master the unmarred flesh.
"Excellent." Sinister nodded approvingly.
The image on the screen flashed again, and he found himself staring at a red-haired woman. A feeling of anger uncoiled in his gut. Now _that_ was the sort of response he expected to feel when looking at a picture of the enemy.
:: He stared down at the woman, and he could feel the bitterness in her heart. She'd ripped him open, pulling one of his most closely guarded memories forward just so she could hurt him.
"...wait..." she said, but he didn't want to wait. He just wanted to get away from her. ::
"Jean Summers, also known as Marvel Girl-"
Dual cut him off as he muttered softly "Bitch. Fucking _bitch_."
Sinister smiled as he turned his own hateful glare on the picture. "That she is, my boy. That she is."
o
After a few more hours, Sinister told Dual to retire to his room for the day. He seemed pleased, though that was hardly unexpected.
Picture after picture, his Master had told him about the enemy. He explained their powers, and occasionally delved a little bit deeper and spoke of their pasts and their weaknesses. Dual's mind flashed bits and pieces of memories at him when he looked on a few of the faces... sometimes he'd feel as though he'd been close to them, and sometimes he'd react with the same anger as when he'd first seen Marvel Girl's picture.
They'd tested him for various abilities, and overall, the dark-haired mutant felt he'd done remarkably well. He could create both fire and ice, and under pressure, he'd managed to turn his body into a living statue of ice. That had been a rush. In that form, he had a much better command of the mutation. He could control metal, walk through walls, and he'd even made it rain outside. He'd levitated one of the computer screens, and he'd teleported himself across the room in the blink of an eye. He was stronger, faster, and more agile than he could ever remember being, and his Master had assured him of that on all three accounts.
On the other hand, it seemed that all he'd pulled from the mutant who could shoot lasers from his eyes were the red eyes that tinted everything he looked at. He couldn't absorb anything from someone by simply touching him or her, and he couldn't morph his body into any shape other than his own.
He'd questioned Sinister about why he seemed to only learn bits and pieces from some mutants, as opposed to the mutants whose powers he'd received fully. The older man had theorized that perhaps the physical mutations had been too much for his body, which would explain why he wasn't sporting any blue fur. Not that he was complaining; wings, a tail, fangs, and red eyes were bizarre enough. He was definitely grateful for his lack of furriness or scaliness. Plus, not having four arms was a definite bonus.
Another theory his master had tossed out was that some of the mutations were too similar to what he could already do for them to register. For example, the blue woman could change her shape and take on the appearance and abilities of anyone. He, on the other hand, could absorb their abilities, so why would he need to change his shape? The same went for the psychic-vampire girl.
Dual had another theory, but he hadn't voiced it. It disturbed him too much, and putting it into words would make it real. Still, he wondered, what if his genetic variations were _conscious_, like a living parasite or something. What if his lack of physical change was because whatever it was inside of him had _chosen_ not to change? It was an uncomfortable thought.
He quickly dismissed it and went back to what he'd learned. His telepathy was extremely strong, but he figured that was because he'd gotten it from two mutants as opposed to just one. It seemed as though he could read anyone's mind, but for some reason, he couldn't sense _anything_ from his Master. That had puzzled him, but he decided against bringing it up. After all, he was supposed to follow Sinister, and if he admitted to trying to read his mind, the older mutant might feel as though he didn't trust him.
Dual sighed as he plopped down on his bed and stared at the books and the tapes. He supposed that before his memory had been taken from him, he could recite them by heart. Maybe when he wasn't quite so tired, he'd start the long process of reading them all again. After all, this was his life and his cause. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Sinister's men by being ignorant.
He stared up at the ceiling mournfully. Did he have any friends in this strange and impersonal complex? It was possible that he'd been so focused on his cause that he hadn't been anything more than a casual acquaintance and comrade to everyone. But... would he seem different to them? How had he acted? Had he been friendly or had he been so obsessed with his mission that everyone thought he was a cold-hearted asshole?
Well, whatever happened, he supposed that he always had Sinister, at least. The older mutant had rescued him, and was spending an extraordinary amount of time making sure that he understood everything. Maybe, he mused, as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, maybe Sinister had been a father to him. Maybe Sinister had been the father he never had.
o
Logan, Spike, Scott, and Warren stared at the smoking remains of what they presumed to be Magneto's base. After knowing where to start, both Logan and the vampire had no trouble following Xander's scent. They'd moved so quickly that Warren actually had to carry Scott in his arms and fly to keep up.
They'd outlined a few ideas on how to infiltrate the base. They were fairly confident that a pissed-off vampire who Magneto's men had never heard of before might tip the scales in their favor. However, when they'd finally arrived on the scene, they found that someone had beaten them to it.
The lifeless bodies of the Brotherhood were scattered on the ground. Rubble was piled high in places, and the sickening stench of burning human flesh assaulted them. Smoke burned their eyes as they picked through the wreckage, searching for some sign of life, for some sign of Xander.
"Oi," Spike called out to his companions, "Got a live one over 'ere."
"I'll be damned," Logan muttered when he saw whom the vampire had found.
Magneto coughed wetly, blood flecking from his mouth, and a terrible sound filled the air. Warren was the first to realize that the man he'd always thought of as the X-men's greatest adversary was... laughing.
o
The blonde angel flew Magneto back to Xavier's Institute for medical attention, leaving the other three men to search among the bodies for any other survivors. There were dishearteningly few; whoever had committed this massacre had done it well. Magneto's two children, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch were alive. Barely. And Mystique was unconscious, but still breathing.
Scott signaled Warren to fly back in the Blackbird, the X-men's jet, after he'd dropped Magneto off in Dr. McCoy's care so that they could take everyone back at once.
Logan looked high and low, but found no trace of Sabertooth. That mutant was one of the only deaths Logan would have rejoiced in, but it seemed Sabertooth had known better than to try and fight whoever had attacked. He'd probably fled.
"What's on your mind, mate?" Spike walked over to him, stepping over several bodies in the process.
"Nothin'," the older mutant replied gruffly. "We've gotta send a team over to bury these guys or somethin'. Doesn't feel right jus' leavin' 'em like this."
Scott moved to stand beside the two of them and nodded. "I agree. But I think we should be the ones to do it... I don't know that anyone else would be able to deal with this sort of... destruction."
"Fair 'nough," the vampire said. "I may be a soulless killer an' all, but I 'aven't seen a spot o' violence like this since me an me Sire were the Scourge o' Europe."
The blonde noticed Logan giving him a strange look and asked, "What?"
"The Scourge o' Europe?" the older mutant cocked his head to the side. "I... remember you."
Scott blinked as Spike responded, "I 'ate to break this on you an' all, but that was o'er a 'undred years ago."
"Yeah," Logan said slowly, "Yeah, it was. I saw you an' some dark-haired darlin' tearin' Prague apart. I... remember that... 'cause your girl was dancin' in the streets singin' to the stars."
The vampire's eyes narrowed as he reassessed Logan. He was surprised, for sure, but after one hundred plus years of unlife, he had a poker face to die for. His voice was low and challenging, and it made the hair on the end of Scott's neck stand straight. "What can I say, mate. I've always had a thin' for brunettes."
Logan growled softly, "Me too, bub."
Scott coughed uncomfortably, catching both the vampire and the mutant's attention. He muttered, "If you two are finished, I think we have a more pressing problem on our hands." He indicated the area around them with an absent wave of his hand. "It may not have occurred to you, but Xander's not here. And seeing as this attack was made not even two days after Magneto _brought_ Xander here, I think it's safe to say he's what they were after."
"So," Spike said quietly, "The real question 'ere is who has Xan-pet."
Logan sniffed the air, trying to get past the fiery brimstone smell, and said something that made Scott's blood run cold. He bared his teeth and snarled, "Sinister."
o
There was a soft knock on his door, and Dual put down the book he'd been reading and said, "Come in."
His Master entered without a word. He spared the book a passing glance, and the dark-haired mutant got the impression he'd managed to please the older mutant again.
"What's up?" Dual asked curiously. He hadn't been expecting to see Sinister for a little while; the man was undoubtedly busy as the leader of this organization.
"It occurred to me that you might suffer some uncomfortable side effects as your body adjusts," Sinister said, his tone conveying a sense of concern. "I thought I might stop by and give you something to help you sleep." He extended both hands; one held two small pills, and the other carried a glass of water.
The dark-haired man smiled. It was... nice. His Master had actually been thinking about his well being, and while he didn't think he needed anything, he accepted anyway. To refuse would be rude, and Dual didn't want Sinister to think he wasn't grateful.
o
Sinister tried not to laugh as Xander trustingly accepted his gifts. It was almost too easy.
He couldn't, however, keep his mouth from twitching a little, as the boy swallowed the sedatives, then washed them down with a healthy dose of his mind-control drug.
o
Note: Yes, I realize that Drusilla was actually Spike's sire, but, pretty as she is, she probably didn't have the presence of mind to raise Spike, so for all intents and purposes, I'm counting Angelus as his real sire.
o