Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution and I am making no money from this fic, so please don't sue me.
The sequel to Licence to Kill, is finally up, and I apologise deeply for the huge delay, but I hope the story will more than make up for it. And trust me, it will be bigger and deadlier than the first story. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy A View To a Kill:
A View To a Kill
"How is progress moving on Cain?"
"As can be expected Mr Trask. It will be finished by the time you wished."
"Excellent." Bolivar Trask picked a heavy, leather-bound tome from the case where it rested. He was a tall man of middle years, with an angular face, thin wisps of dark hair turning grey at the edges covered his head and he had a neatly trimmed moustache. His eyes were a deep blue that captivated you the instant you looked into them; Cain had often thought that they had a kind of hypnotic power.
Cain Marko was the opposite of Trask. Where Trask was thin, Cain was heavily muscled from years of training, his hair was cut close to his scalp and he was a lot younger than Trask. He was taller even than Trask as well, standing nearly seven feet tall.
Trask opened the book and pressed a button that operated the p.a. system. "Brothers and sisters let us pray," Trask's voice echoed throughout the entire city. Cain dropped to his knees, as he knew all the other citizens would be doing, regardless of what they were in the middle of doing. To do otherwise meant instant death.
"We thank thee, o Lord that you have shown us the error of our ways and delivered us safely from the hell that awaits unbelievers! We thank thee that you are a merciful Lord who, despite our inadequacies, gives us a chance of redemption. We thank thee that you are also a vengeful Lord, who will strike down our foes!" Trask's voice, which had started off at a normal level, had now risen to a feverous pitch, his eyes were blazing with religious fervour and spittle was frothing from one corner of his mouth.
"Help us to remain free from temptation in this world full of sin! Aid us as we fulfil your commands, as we punish the wicked and the sinful! Amen!"
"Amen." Cain dutifully repeated, as did everyone else in the city. Prayers over Trask switched off the p.a. system and wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief, as Cain got to his feet.
"Cain, we will shortly be leaving for the Temple. Ensure that everything is ready for my departure."
"As you wish," Cain bowed his head and left. Trask gingerly replaced the book in its case, and sagged into the leather chair behind his desk. He toyed with an ornate knife on his desk as he considered all the plans he had laid in place. Should everything go correctly, in eighteen days the world would have changed. Whether it would be changed for better or for worse remained to be seen.
The warehouse was a small and dingy affair, one of countless dozens on the waterfront. Perfect cover for an arms smuggler. Who was going to look twice at a warehouse full of crates? Especially when the user had paid off anyone who might have thought about taking a look around.
"Alright get moving!" Alfonso Riveri was impatient to be off. He'd been using the warehouse as cover for the arms he was smuggling for almost two months now, and if there was one thing he'd learnt it was that in his trade habit shortened your career considerably. His lackeys began to pile the crates into the two lorries whilst Alfonso continuosly glanced at his watch. They should be able to get these weapons out of the country in under an hour.
There was a sudden banging on the side door to the warehouse that made Alfonso almost jump out of his skin. "Hector, Eddie, check that out. If it's not someone with a reason to be here, kill 'em." Alfonso's two men grinned - they hadn't had any fun for a while. Hopefully it would be one of those homeless people that populated the waterfront.
Throwing the door open, Eddie grinned. The person standing there was dirty and dishevelled - the overcoat they wore and their general unkemptness meant it was impossible to tell the person's gender. An eye patch covered the person's left eye and their hair was long and dirty. "What do you want?" Eddie growled in heavily accented English.
"Sir, any spare change?" The person rasped in a low voice.
Eddie and Hector exchange glances. "Sure we do," Eddie said, reaching into his jacket. Pulling out his pistol he expected to see a look of horror cross the person's face, but instead a smile flitted across the stranger's face. Just as Eddie brought the gun up the stranger kicked him, hard, in the crotch. Clutching at his wounded privates, Eddie watched as the stranger pulled a pistol out and blasted Hector in the chest, throwing him several feet backwards. Eddie tried to crawl away, but the stranger coolly took aim and put a bullet through the back of his neck.
At the sound of the shot Alfonso looked up, expecting that Eddie and Hector would have had the sense to kill the intruder outside. What he saw made his blood run cold. Eddie and Hector were stretched out on the floor, blood leaking from their wounds, and a stranger was reaching into their overcoat. They pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the centre of the room, where it exploded and a cloud of white smoke billowed from it. Alfonso recognised it instantly as tear gas and made a dash for the stairs. There was a fire escape at the top of the stairs; if he could just reach it he could get away.
Below him he could hear the sounds of gunfire and wondered what was happening. Most likely someone had panicked and was firing wildly, but he didn't care. As long as he got away, all was not lost. He had almost reached the fire escape when he saw the door open and a man walk through it. The man had short silver hair, a black suit on and walked with a slight limp.
"Out of my way!" Alfonso shouted wildly, aiming his pistol at the man.
"There's nowhere to run, Alfonso," the man stated calmly. "Your men are being captured as we speak, you've lost your shipment of arms, and even if you got past me there are people waiting for you outside. Drop your gun and come with me, and no one has to get hurt."
Alfonso's only reply was to fire three shots at the man. The man threw himself aside and two of the bullets missed, whilst the third grazed his chest.
"We have to do it the hard way then?" The man pulled a gun from his jacket and fired. Alfonso felt a sharp nick as the tiny dart his neck, then blackness obscured his vision and he lost consciousness.
The silver haired man was leaning against the bonnet of his silver Mercedes ten minutes later, whilst the local police lead the smugglers away. His fellow operative, who had been disguised as the tramp, walked up to him. She had already got rid of the disguise and was wearing a black suit similar to the man. She had short, black hair and was almost as tall as the man.
"I wonder why they never take the easy option?" The man said to her as she joined him.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is it that difficult to figure out Quicksilver? They'd rather go down fighting than surrender. Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong guys to try and fight."
Quicksilver grinned. "We should probably get going, if we want to be back in London by this evening, that is."
"Didn't Riveri shoot you?" the woman asked as she got into the car.
"Yeah, but you know Hank's vest. Works like a charm." Quicksilver pulled out of the alley and began to drive towards the port, where a ferry waited to take them back to England.
"How you feeling, you've been out for a long time."
"I'm fine. Leg's not hurting anything like it used to be. It's good to be back."
"It's good to have you back."
I hope you enjoyed chapter 1, and believe me there's a lot more to come. Please review and tell me what you think.
The sequel to Licence to Kill, is finally up, and I apologise deeply for the huge delay, but I hope the story will more than make up for it. And trust me, it will be bigger and deadlier than the first story. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy A View To a Kill:
"How is progress moving on Cain?"
"As can be expected Mr Trask. It will be finished by the time you wished."
"Excellent." Bolivar Trask picked a heavy, leather-bound tome from the case where it rested. He was a tall man of middle years, with an angular face, thin wisps of dark hair turning grey at the edges covered his head and he had a neatly trimmed moustache. His eyes were a deep blue that captivated you the instant you looked into them; Cain had often thought that they had a kind of hypnotic power.
Cain Marko was the opposite of Trask. Where Trask was thin, Cain was heavily muscled from years of training, his hair was cut close to his scalp and he was a lot younger than Trask. He was taller even than Trask as well, standing nearly seven feet tall.
Trask opened the book and pressed a button that operated the p.a. system. "Brothers and sisters let us pray," Trask's voice echoed throughout the entire city. Cain dropped to his knees, as he knew all the other citizens would be doing, regardless of what they were in the middle of doing. To do otherwise meant instant death.
"We thank thee, o Lord that you have shown us the error of our ways and delivered us safely from the hell that awaits unbelievers! We thank thee that you are a merciful Lord who, despite our inadequacies, gives us a chance of redemption. We thank thee that you are also a vengeful Lord, who will strike down our foes!" Trask's voice, which had started off at a normal level, had now risen to a feverous pitch, his eyes were blazing with religious fervour and spittle was frothing from one corner of his mouth.
"Help us to remain free from temptation in this world full of sin! Aid us as we fulfil your commands, as we punish the wicked and the sinful! Amen!"
"Amen." Cain dutifully repeated, as did everyone else in the city. Prayers over Trask switched off the p.a. system and wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief, as Cain got to his feet.
"Cain, we will shortly be leaving for the Temple. Ensure that everything is ready for my departure."
"As you wish," Cain bowed his head and left. Trask gingerly replaced the book in its case, and sagged into the leather chair behind his desk. He toyed with an ornate knife on his desk as he considered all the plans he had laid in place. Should everything go correctly, in eighteen days the world would have changed. Whether it would be changed for better or for worse remained to be seen.
The warehouse was a small and dingy affair, one of countless dozens on the waterfront. Perfect cover for an arms smuggler. Who was going to look twice at a warehouse full of crates? Especially when the user had paid off anyone who might have thought about taking a look around.
"Alright get moving!" Alfonso Riveri was impatient to be off. He'd been using the warehouse as cover for the arms he was smuggling for almost two months now, and if there was one thing he'd learnt it was that in his trade habit shortened your career considerably. His lackeys began to pile the crates into the two lorries whilst Alfonso continuosly glanced at his watch. They should be able to get these weapons out of the country in under an hour.
There was a sudden banging on the side door to the warehouse that made Alfonso almost jump out of his skin. "Hector, Eddie, check that out. If it's not someone with a reason to be here, kill 'em." Alfonso's two men grinned - they hadn't had any fun for a while. Hopefully it would be one of those homeless people that populated the waterfront.
Throwing the door open, Eddie grinned. The person standing there was dirty and dishevelled - the overcoat they wore and their general unkemptness meant it was impossible to tell the person's gender. An eye patch covered the person's left eye and their hair was long and dirty. "What do you want?" Eddie growled in heavily accented English.
"Sir, any spare change?" The person rasped in a low voice.
Eddie and Hector exchange glances. "Sure we do," Eddie said, reaching into his jacket. Pulling out his pistol he expected to see a look of horror cross the person's face, but instead a smile flitted across the stranger's face. Just as Eddie brought the gun up the stranger kicked him, hard, in the crotch. Clutching at his wounded privates, Eddie watched as the stranger pulled a pistol out and blasted Hector in the chest, throwing him several feet backwards. Eddie tried to crawl away, but the stranger coolly took aim and put a bullet through the back of his neck.
At the sound of the shot Alfonso looked up, expecting that Eddie and Hector would have had the sense to kill the intruder outside. What he saw made his blood run cold. Eddie and Hector were stretched out on the floor, blood leaking from their wounds, and a stranger was reaching into their overcoat. They pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the centre of the room, where it exploded and a cloud of white smoke billowed from it. Alfonso recognised it instantly as tear gas and made a dash for the stairs. There was a fire escape at the top of the stairs; if he could just reach it he could get away.
Below him he could hear the sounds of gunfire and wondered what was happening. Most likely someone had panicked and was firing wildly, but he didn't care. As long as he got away, all was not lost. He had almost reached the fire escape when he saw the door open and a man walk through it. The man had short silver hair, a black suit on and walked with a slight limp.
"Out of my way!" Alfonso shouted wildly, aiming his pistol at the man.
"There's nowhere to run, Alfonso," the man stated calmly. "Your men are being captured as we speak, you've lost your shipment of arms, and even if you got past me there are people waiting for you outside. Drop your gun and come with me, and no one has to get hurt."
Alfonso's only reply was to fire three shots at the man. The man threw himself aside and two of the bullets missed, whilst the third grazed his chest.
"We have to do it the hard way then?" The man pulled a gun from his jacket and fired. Alfonso felt a sharp nick as the tiny dart his neck, then blackness obscured his vision and he lost consciousness.
The silver haired man was leaning against the bonnet of his silver Mercedes ten minutes later, whilst the local police lead the smugglers away. His fellow operative, who had been disguised as the tramp, walked up to him. She had already got rid of the disguise and was wearing a black suit similar to the man. She had short, black hair and was almost as tall as the man.
"I wonder why they never take the easy option?" The man said to her as she joined him.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is it that difficult to figure out Quicksilver? They'd rather go down fighting than surrender. Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong guys to try and fight."
Quicksilver grinned. "We should probably get going, if we want to be back in London by this evening, that is."
"Didn't Riveri shoot you?" the woman asked as she got into the car.
"Yeah, but you know Hank's vest. Works like a charm." Quicksilver pulled out of the alley and began to drive towards the port, where a ferry waited to take them back to England.
"How you feeling, you've been out for a long time."
"I'm fine. Leg's not hurting anything like it used to be. It's good to be back."
"It's good to have you back."
I hope you enjoyed chapter 1, and believe me there's a lot more to come. Please review and tell me what you think.