Chapter 3 - The Weapon
Logan
"You wanted to see me, sir?" I addressed my superior with a salute and a stamp of my heavy boot. Striker nodded and I relaxed into the at ease stance, feet spaced apart and hands together behind my back.
Striker was an ugly man with an oddly shaped head, like a squashed egg, and eyes that were too close together. He looked like a man you couldn't trust. But I didn't need to trust him, just do as I was commanded.
"I like you Howlett, you're a good soldier. You follow orders well, are decisive, deadly. Loyal till the end… That's a very rare quality for somebody of your kind." I knew what he meant. It was common knowledge Striker hated mutants. He didn't have to say it.
"That's why I'm trusting you with this task." Striker slid a file across the desk.
I felt my eyebrow raise at the profile photo that was attached to the inside edge; She was strikingly beautiful, creamy skin and deep brown eyes so rich in color I could have sworn they were liquid chocolate. Her dark hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders, which I could see just enough of to tell she was small framed.
"She's a mutant." Striker's voice floated in from somewhere outside of my consciousness. I was still taking in every detail of her face. The hidden security camera in her room couldn't match the resolution of the photograph.
"A run-away. Her parents threw her out when her powers manifested and she's been running ever since." That would explain the dark circles under her eyes and the tired, hungry expression she wore.
"Her power is unlike one I have ever come across before; a rare gem in a pile of rocks." The phrase caught my attention and I looked up to focus on Striker.
"Her full capabilities are as of yet undocumented but the intel we hold on her is very promising. She can absorb the life force of any creature she touches and even utilize another mutant's power." His grey eyes shone behind thick rimmed square glasses as he described her, and something in that look sickened me.
"Her touch is deadly, although we're pretty certain she has some measure of control over it. However, if she choses to use her powers against us, we have a way to ensure your safety."
At his words, my insides contracted unpleasantly.
"My safety?"
"The Weapon X program is being reinstated. We tried genetically altering genes. We tried to force mutation through extreme stress treatment. We've even tried growing our own… now it's time to step it up to the next level."
I listened in numb silence as he explained what he needed from me. Something monstrous. Something inhumane.
And although the idea repulsed me, the deeply-suppressed beast inside me reveled in the thought of being able to claim her as his own. Howl in ecstasy that his most basic of animalistic needs were being met.
The day I'd brought her here they had taken blood, but I didn't need such meager tests to tell she was ovulating. I could smell it even through the security door, pungent and delicately sweet at the same time. It called out to me. The most desirable smell in the world was a willing female in her prime, raring and ready to mate.
I knew she was attracted to me. I'd smelt her arousal the night we'd met. But that didn't mean she'd welcome the arrangement. I would be the first to admit, I knew little of females apart from the late hours spent with them beneath me, writhing and crying out from pleasure. I didn't get off on forcing them, no matter what the circumstances.
"I'll understand if you don't want to go through with it, sergeant. But bear in mind you are my first choice. Any offspring you sire with the subject have great genetic potential and are highly likely to carry the mutant genes."
"And if I don't, with respect, sir?"
"I have other possible matches lined up. Your brother, Creed, for instance… I'll give you some time to think about it."
I'd spent a lot of time with my brother, too much time in fact, absorbing a lot of his nastier traits. We'd spent too long living on instinct, fighting a constant battle for self-control, although it didn't seem Victor fought very hard at all these days. My moral compass seemed to point much more north than his.
My eyes flicked to a screen on the control panel behind Striker, and I surveyed her huddled form wrapped in the duvet, a single sock-covered foot poking out from under it. Her toes were previously showing up blue on the thermal camera and I thought it would be best if she kept all of them.
I spent the next few days thinking long and hard about whether or not I wanted to do what he was asking. The alternative would scare her and possibly put her life in danger. No. If it was going to be anyone, It would have to be me.
From the other side of the door I could smell her, concentrated in her isolation. Young, fresh blood humming through her veins, heart-rate slightly elevated. I pictured the hollow in the slender curve of her neck, and the pulse right beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be licked to see if she tasted just as good as she smelled. But thoughts like that would only lead down a dangerous and ultimately desolate path.
Before joining Team X, I had no family to speak of, apart from my blood thirsty half-brother Victor, and no place to call home. There wasn't a special someone to share my life with either, that just wasn't on the cards for a man like me. I picked women up for a night before dropping them the next morning. That was who I was; a loner. A wanderer. A solider. It was no life to share with someone. It was better that way.
I gave up on the hope of having a family long ago. Victor was the only one who'd ever have my back. I knew him better than I even knew myself, and I knew that he could not be trusted with a task so delicate.
With that knowledge in hand, I took a deep, resigned breath, and stepped into the room.
