Edited: 02/07/16

Chapter 6 - Deadwood

"The greatest enemy will hide in the last place you would ever look." – Julius Caesar

Jonas gave a jaw cracking yawn. Grunting, he shifted his weight to the other aching foot in an attempt to stay awake. The craving for nicotine made him irritable, every minute ticked by with the slowness of an anemic snail on a salt lick. He glared at the blank wall of the hall across from his post. "I don't see why short spokes needs a guard anyway. It isn't like the little robot would scratch his nuts without a direct order," he whined to the empty corridor. Being stuck on babysitting duty was one of the least favorable tasks. At least with X there was the delicious tingle of fear that the beast might get feisty and do something interesting. It was similar to the fear one felt at an amusement park. Safe, with just a spike of adrenaline to keep a guy awake during the long night hours. After the mad scientist finished scrambling X's brains, the subject was as tractable as a coon hound. That didn't stop the stories told in the barracks like ghost stories at summer camp. Whispers about how the weapon had gone rogue and killed everyone, how it was unstoppable, how it could take down entire armies the way an exterminator would wipe out a colony of cockroaches.

Even though most of the higher level guards saw how deadly IX could be, the small childlike male didn't inspire the same degree of terror. Or any terror at all. Hell, I've seen more frightening kittens, Jonas thought with a sour smile. He fingered his lighter, grinning at the silvery scar that curled around his left finger. Yes, there were cats more horrifying than IX. Just three more hours of kid sitting, and he'd be free to smoke and catch a few hours of sleep before the above ground tests needed to be set up for X.

Playing keeper for a bunch of mad science projects wasn't what Jonas had in mind when he signed up for the army, but the hazard pay was freaking awesome, and so far there hadn't been any problems. It was a level of boring on par with playing shuffle board at an old folk's home, but every now and then he was on the rotation observing the experiments, and damn was that entertainment! Especially X, it was the sort of blood sport movies tried to re-create but never quite succeeded. Imagine how much money one episode of X-games would rake in! God that would be the reality show to end all reality shows. The amusing thought brought a chuckle to the young man's lips while he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. Yes, X was the one to watch. The other, you never ever saw him act, just bodies hitting the floor. It wasn't fun when the test subjects didn't know what was happening before death had them in its clutches.

The soft hiss of the hatch opening next to him pulled Jonas out of the light doze he'd fallen into. Blinking back another yawn, the twenty-year-old guard stared at the short young man standing on the threshold of what should have been a secure door. IX was fully outfitted, weapons and all, and who the hell put him away without removing his weapons? Jonas wondered, knowing someone was going to get their ass chewed for the breach in protocol.

"What's up small fry?" Jonas quibbled. It had become a game for the guards to see who could get him to react. So far, no one found the right smart ass remark to get a rise out of the weapon, but it was fun to try. Jade eyes locked on his face, and Jonas felt the normal chill sweep through him when the dead looking eyes settled on him.

Before he could register something had gone wrong, a blade sank hilt deep into his throat. Panic clawed rodent-like in his chest when he tried to draw a breath and gagged on a flood of his own blood. Stumbling, he collapsed, convulsing on the floor while small booted feet drifted into his field of vision. With numb indifference, a fine boned hand reached down and jerked the blade free with a spray of arterial blood. Darkness ate at Jonas's vision. His limbs grew heavy, and without a single scream, he spiraled down into death. The last thought that flitted through his darkening mind was: I was afraid of the wrong one…

Alarms blared and crackled through the underground complex. ALERT! ALERT! ALERT! WEAPON IX HAS GONE ROGUE, ALL GUARDS REPORT TO THE ARMORY, I REPEAT WEAPON IX HAS GONE ROGUE. The loud speaker squealed its disastrous news on all levels of the facility while a small bloodstained shadow stepped back into its darkened room and vanished.

Cutler tumbled out of bed, years in the army trained him to go from a dead sleep to full alertness in an instant, and he used that edge to jerk on his pants and stuff his feet into his shoes. He shouted at the lay about guards who weren't so well trained, and were still floundering in bed. Well that's going to bloody well change once we get IX back under control, he thought with a grim smile. When he was done with them, they'd be afraid to sleep without one eye open. The quality of guards, and their adherence to protocol had been slipping in past few weeks due to the illusion that the scientists had control of their pet psychos. But Cutler knew better. He knew that those two were just bombs ready to go off at the slightest opportunity. Sometimes, he hated being right.

Unlike his predecessor, Cutler remained in the barracks with his men. He believed it was better for him to remain among them, than to pretend he was some lofty general above them. After witnessing how power gilded the General and made him dull witted, Cutler vowed not to let the same happen to him. So he kept his habits and schedule the same as it had always been. There were more responsibilities of course, he was responsible for scheduling all of the rotations and deciding what duties each of the guards performed on a weekly basis. Aside from that, he worked and lived with his men.

In less than a minute, he was dressed and ready to go while the rest of the men were still fumbling their way up to consciousness. "Come on! Time to get to work," his gruff tone promised dire consequences to anyone who wasn't ready to go. Shoving the door open, he ran for the armory. At least it isn't X, the tranque guns will be enough to take the runt down. We won't need the heavy stuff for him, Cutler decided as he ran, making plans on the fly. He'd never thought they'd be forced to deal with IX going rogue, sloppy. He should have at least entertained the idea and created a plan for dealing with it. Now he had to improvise, but that didn't matter. Cutler was good at thinking on his feet.

A low growl rumbled through the darkness when IX stepped out of the shadows. X's large hand closed over his throat, holding him in place as X loomed over him. Soft breath ghosted over IX's hair while X drank in the scent of his little mate, tangy with the aroma of fresh blood. The soft prick of metal against skin was all the warning he received before honed silver slashed through the space his stomach had previously occupied. Swift as a tiger dodging the temperamental claws of its mate, X leapt back.

"Eliminate them all." The command hung like spider silk in the darkness after IX vanished onto roads only open to him. Another low snarl pierced the gloom and the deadly shink of claws extending punctuated the sound with promised violence. The order was given, and as the blood tide rose in his veins, something buried deep in his subconscious stirred, flavoring animal blood lust with hungry vengeance.

The thick steel door parted like damp tissue under his adamantium claws, and bullets carved dark holes in his chest when the guard at his door reacted. Terrified brown eyes watched the large gouges heal and Seth stumbled back, tripping over his own feet when he tried to both run and turn at the same time. He didn't see the flash of silver claws that tore through his back with the same ease they'd bisected the door.

Blazing light flooded the control center. The Professor studied the monitors, anxiety whispered like poison inside his chest. Alarms continued bleating like lost sheep while his glacial gaze studied the bloody form of X, who was carving guards into pieces without hesitation. Spider thin fingers hissed over the keyboard, but every command he tried was denied. He'd been locked out of the system. Desperate fury demanded he shout, throw things, and rave. Betrayal was bitter iron on his tongue as he tried to control the irrational emotion and focus on cutting a back door into the program to regain control.

"Damn him," he cursed when his attempts failed. If he had a few days or even a few hours, the Professor could defeat the lockdown that had swept the system via an outside source. A source the Professor was sure had a name. The Director, his mind hissed when yet another command failed.

The Professor's paranoia had him scouting the room for the smallest shadow, even though IX had never set foot in his inner sanctum. It wouldn't do to have that one appear without warning. Bad enough that the weapon was nearly impossible to track on the surveillance cameras, at least X was easy to follow. It was only then he realized the blood soaked menace was headed straight for his section of the compound, cutting down any that stood in his way.

"Cutler, take it down!" The Professor lost his haughty tone, and now panic gave his voice a raw edge the guards had never heard before. The sound of it over the loud speakers made them cringe in their boots and hold their guns closer. For the man to sound like that meant things had gone from bad to much, much worse.

"Huh...Immmup...ugh," Dr. Cornelius groaned when the sudden sound of alarms got tangled in vague dreams of his wife and waking up to that horrible racket. He never knew where she'd found the darn thing, but it was loud enough to wake the dead, and boy did she need it. Nothing short of the house falling down could wake his beloved. He swam up through the thick fog of sleep and memory returned. His dear wife had no need for obnoxious alarms, indeed she needed nothing at all.

Pain was old friend, clenching his heart. It was as intense and bitter as the day it was carved into his soul. The idiot who said time healed all wounds had never loved, that much was obvious. It took another endless minutes for the soul deep pain to release him enough to realize he was still hearing alarms. Then icy terror guttered the flames of agony, and his heart shriveled with dread.

At first he was afraid he might be having a heart attack, and perhaps that would have been a kindness because he'd only ever heard those alarms once before. When X went berserk and began killing everyone. That can't possibly be the case here, the weapon is completely under our control. It can't just...decide on its own to start killing people who haven't been programmed as targets, his mind gibbered. Maybe it was a fire, or a flood, or some other disaster that had nothing to do with unkillable weapons. Perhaps the Americans had learned of the facility and were attacking. If so I pity them, no matter how good they think they are, no one can stand against IX and X when they work in tandem.

The scientific part of his brain pointed out that if it was the Americans, this was an unprecedented chance for them to observe the weapons in a true combat situation instead of the mock battles they'd been creating. Even when they used real soldiers, and where the Professor had gotten a contingent of soldiers willing to throw their lives away like that Cornelius would never know, it wasn't the same as live combat. The tests were still in a controlled environment. I hope that the recording equipment is in order, the portly doctor thought; his cheeks puffing while he threw on his clothes.

Excitement overrode caution, and he opened the door before hustling out. He wanted to make it to the observation deck before the Americans beached the facility. Shink.

A harsh woof tore from the doctor's throat when an adamantium clawed fist slammed into his gut with enough force to drive the unbreakable metal knuckle deep into the unsuspecting doctor. Startled, pain filled eyes stared into alien brown. Nothing human looked back when the claws slashed outwards, spilling the good doctor's innards like a bowl of spaghetti.

"N-not me...the Americas," Cornelius sputtered, toppling over. Time slowed as he fell, and he barely felt his body impact with the hard ground. Soon...I'll be seeing you again soon my lov- The blades lashed out again, cleaving the man's head from his shoulders in a vicious swipe. Had the doctor looked up, he would have seen the sharp gleam of something more than animal in those murky brown depths.

"Doctor," the empty voice froze Dr. Hendry where he stood. A micro-drive containing vital data from both projects fell from his loose grip when a blade sank into his flesh just deep enough to flirt with his kidney. A warning, he realized, painful but not immediately life threatening. Reluctant approval colored the doctor's thoughts. It was a brilliant way to get someone of his experiences attention. The threat wouldn't have been as effective on someone who wasn't so intimately familiar with the human anatomy.

"What can I do for you, IX?" Dr. Hendry said in a strained, even tone. He sounded like a doctor giving a checkup, than a man with a knife nudging his vital organs. The blade remained steady, neither penetrating farther, nor retracting. Again, the doctor had a morbid sense of pride. While X was a fine experiment, IX was his greatest accomplishment. He'd taken a shattered child and turned it into the perfect killer. One who had no qualms in killing anyone, even his own creator.

"I want everything pertaining to subject IX on file. All the records, experiment data, tissue samples, DNA, everything," the cool voice replied. It was curious the weapon referred to himself in the third person, no that wasn't correct. He didn't refer to himself as a person at all. The new insight was too late to explore in detail, and even though his death was assured, the only regret Dr. Hendry felt was that he wouldn't be able to see the project through to completion. After all the test and experiments, the doctor knew they'd only scratched the surface of what IX was capable of. The others might believe they'd seen everything the subject could do, but Hendry wasn't fooled. IX's potential was limitless, and not being there to see him reach his full potential was a bitter pill to swallow.

Careful not to move less he drive the blade deeper and inadvertently end his life before the time was right, Dr Hendry agreed. He hissed when the blade slid free of his flesh, leaving a warm trickle of blood in its wake. The doctor slumped, and the harp wire tension that had held him still snapped. "Move," the arctic voice commanded. Stumbling, Hendry did as he was told and began gathering all of the physical proof of IX's existence.

While he shuffled around the lab putting everything in a heap on the exam table that had once held a tiny battered child, IX's fingers darted over the keyboard of the primary computer. Codes were fed into his mind, and his fingers slid skillfully over the keys. He obeyed the commands, cutting a hole in the firewall for a nasty little virus that would destroy any and all documentation pertaining to weapon IX. Including all video feed that had captured his image from every computer in the complex. Once the virus was uploaded successfully, IX's emerald gaze returned to Dr. Hendry.

The small mountain of files, test tubes, vials, petri dishes, and assorted odds and ends was impressive. The doctor stood to one side, his hand clamped over the wound. He hadn't attempted to run when the chance presented itself. The faint echoing screams keening over the ever present silence convinced him that IX wasn't the only weapon that had broken free of their control. Or have they? The doctor wondered. Why would IX care about eliminating proof of his existence? The weapons shouldn't have been capable of defying orders at this point. Which means they are following orders, just not ours.

He almost laughed. Pride was a dangerous beast because it blinded a man to the world around him, and blinded him to how expendable he was.

"Is this everything?" The empty voice snapped his wandering attention back to the precarious situation that had taken hold of the facility. It was difficult, even with death so near he could almost taste it, to keep his mind from wandering. How strange that the last time this situation occurred, he'd risked his life to save the one now threatening it. The irony wasn't lost on him. And like the mad scientists of old, our creation rose up to destroy us in turn, just as humans rose up against the Gods.

He could feel the cold energy lick almost teasingly at his throat, and knew lying would earn him a most unpleasant death.

"Yes."

The word was cut off when the small blade sang through the air and found its target, severing the man's spinal cord and giving him a clean death. IX ignored the soft thump of the body hitting the ground as he turned his attention to the pile on the table. Poisonous green eyes locked on the offering and something sparked in their depths. Warmth tingled through his mind, and his sharp gaze narrowed.

With a small puff, the pile roared to life. Wicked flames danced along the paper growing and feasting on the offering, leaving utter destruction in their wake. IX stood still cold granite, giving the fire his full concentration. Bringing them to life was effortless, like breathing. But keeping them contained was a painful endeavor. They fought him, wanting to live and grow until they consumed the world. The fire roared in displeasure when he limited it to the table, but IX's will was stronger, and he crushed the hungry flames into submission.

"Alright men, there's only one way to stop the beast. We have to overpower him physically." Cutler told the assembly of guards. Déjà vutickled his mind while he rallied the men for one desperate run against X. This time he didn't bother with wasting men in an attempt to gun the creature down, he'd learned long ago that bullets were pointless when dealing with X. All they did was enrage the creature and resulted in a lot of body parts being thrown about.

"Fuck that!" One of the men in the back shouted. The assembly growled in agreement. "We've heard this story before Cut, and it didn't end so well for the other guards now did it!?" Another voice added. More shouted against the plan until the yelling became a mass of noise. Cutler attempted to yell over them, to regain control, but it was too late. They were spooked, and one too many elaborate stories about the night that X went crazy had done their work.

The scream of metal on metal silenced the horde more effectively than Cutler ever could, and as X tore his way into the room, attracted by all the shouting. Panic gripped the men at the sight of the renegade weapon.

"Aww, to hell with this. I'm getting outta here!" The words spurned the guards on, and they scattered. Weapon X plowed into the mass like a bull let lose in a crowded street. One of the men shoved Cutler in the path of the snarling beast while trying to escape. Before he could raise his gun, as useless as the motion would have been, adamantium claws descended with unstoppable force and cut through flesh, bone and brain as effortlessly as a spork through Jello, slicing his head into four pieces.

Everything froze when the body fell, held suspended in time as the man who'd been the one of the only survivors against Weapon X's last run was cut down. The men couldn't believe what they were seeing, Cutler, who'd been nearly the only survivor of the last great altercation between the full contingent of guards and weapon X, was dead. Pandemonium overtook the room while men fought each other to get away from the beast, to get to the door, to just get away.

A blood thirsty snarl that was eerily reminiscent of a grin burned on the weapon's blood spattered face. He waded into the herd of sheep, his crimson stained claws left devastation in their wake, sending body parts flying in a spray of living rain. The crescendo of screams was deafening, and more than a few guards were killed not by the beast, but by being trampled underfoot by their own. Those who made it out of the cramped room scattered to all corners of the facility in their maddened bid to escape.

Franks wasn't sure how long he ran before the panic released him enough for rational thought to return. Things had gone so wrong so fast that he could feel the soft buzz of shock trying to suck him under. I'm still alive, as long as I keep my head I can get out of this. Oh God, Cutler's dead. That thought continued to gnaw at his resolve like a starved rat feasting on the innards of a dead cat. Cut was dead, and the rest of the guards were as good as. Damned cowards, now X can pick us off one by one at his leisure. He knew any chance they had at regaining control of the situation died with Cutler. Now it was survival of the fittest, and praying to God that he could survive the cat and mouse game long enough for help to arrive.

The smell of smoke slapped him back into the present, and a half baked plan of cutting through a smoke filled room to hide his scent drove him towards the smell instead of away. Everyone who worked with X knew it hunted based off scent. If he made his smoky, perhaps that would make him less of a target. It would take the creature hours to track down the rest of the scattered guards. By then, the Professor would have called for help. Just gotta hold on till they arrive, that's all.

When he shoved the door to the medical ward open, Franks froze. Standing not five feet away was IX, staring intently at the examination table where flames danced on the bare metal. Terror rooted him to the spot. After half a minute of still breathing and remaining upright, Franks was able to get his shaky mind back on track. The fire, the fire was important. YES! He can only focus on the fire to control it! It took nearly three tries for him to unstrap the tranquilizer gun, every tiny movement made his heart beat erratically, waiting for the weapon to notice his presence and kill him.

The flames shrank, and Franks jerked the gun up when panic won the battle. The shot went wide, skimming just past the Weapon's left ear, so close his unruly black locks rustled in the wind of its passage. Deadly green eyes locked on him, their gaze held him paralyzed for the blade that buried itself in his left eye.

The Professor paced the confines of his haven turned hell. Once, when he was a boy, he saw a man put a tiny fish in a bottle and cork the top. Then the bottle was tossed into a tank with an octopus. He watched those slimy arms feel out the seemingly impenetrable bottle before plucking the cork free, reaching in and snatching the little fish when it should have been safe. Perhaps this was how the fish felt, watching the arms close around the bottle. The Professor thought morbidly, drawn again to the screens, and the blood tide that was overtaking the facility.

Ten minutes ago, the first guards had reached the elevators that should have taken them to the surface and the illusion of freedom, but the doors were sealed. The doors to the stairs likewise refused to yield to the desperate men, and like rats in a maze they now fled up and down halls in an attempt to outrun the snake among them. The Director thought this out well, bitterness, as sharp and unforgiving as arsenic, colored his thoughts while he made another restless circuit of the room. There was no point in leaving, no exit would open and help wasn't coming.

He continued to pace as plans were formulated and discarded. For the love of God, he was brilliant! There had to be something, some way out of this disaster, some way to survive the unsurvivable. He needed more time.

The Professor went ridged, his lanky form stiffening to the point of pain when metal squealed against metal. Time was up.

Panic did not touch his placid green gaze when the momentary distraction allowed the demon flames to roar up and engulf half the room in the blink of an eye. He turned away from the corpse to refocus his iron clad attention on the fire. His bottle colored eyes narrowed, and he slammed his power down on the out of control blaze in one savage thrust. The fire was snuffed out with apparent ease like the candles of a child's birthday cake. IX turned on his heel and vanished into the newly born shadows.

The three savage blades came down in a powerful arc that would have cleaved any other in half. IX's own dagger came up, clashing not against the descending blades but the heavy wrist. It only took three sparring sessions for IX to realize the best way to deflect the deadly weapons was to target not the blades themselves, which no other weapon could stand against, but to stop them at a different point. A low grunt escaped him before he managed to turn the blow aside.

The familiar grind of metal against adamantium sheathed bone was enough to pull X out of the blood haze. IX didn't back down when he felt the prick of blades against his stomach, the death blow halted mid-motion when the smaller weapon's scent penetrated the blood lust. Shink, the blades returned to their fleshin sheaths. X grabbed IX, jerking him up to bury his nose against the young man's throat. Without fear, IX hung limply in the predator's unbreakable grip. The low rumble of X's approval was accompanied by the sting of teeth sinking into his shoulder while X renewed his mark. IX had learned over the course of their training that it was easier to permit the beast of a man this small thing than to be fought to a standstill and have it done anyway. Even his magic was beginning to yield to the incessant markings, each time it took the scars longer to fade.

"Enough, there is work yet to be done. Lead me to the Professor."

A soft tongue lapped one last time at the rich wine that made the blood of the guards and scientists taste like water in comparison. The jolting, power rich flow was nearly intoxicating and had become addictive to the predator after that first taste. He took every opportunity the younger male gave him to steal a taste and to feel that small but hard lined body pressed against his chest while he indulged. His little mate no longer fought him in those moments, but his tantalizing scent remained painfully free of lust. With one last swipe he released his hold, allowing IX to fall gracefully to the floor.

Without looking back, X prowled forward, tracing the familiar scent of the Professor to his hiding hole. Bodies littered the corridors as they stalked their prey, and the slightest twitch or groan earned the few who weren't quite dead a swift decapitation.

Mike was never the bravest, the strongest, or the fastest. He often wondered what the hell he'd been thinking when he'd joined the army, and anyone who knew him had wondered the same. In truth, it had been a rather foolish moment of machoism, perhaps the only one he'd ever had. A bit too much vodka coupled with a sadistic recruiting officer sealed his fate. Anyone else would have taken one look at the drunken coward and sent him on his way with a sneer and a boot to the ass for good measure. But, not that one, oh no, he let Mike sign up and grinned all the while, thinking that a stint with the army would be a fine price to pay for being an idiot. After all, the army could always use cannon fodder.

If there was a God of luck, then he favored Mike, who should have been killed half a dozen times over the past two years. He survived, and it wasn't due to skill, but an innate sense of when to run and when to hide. Getting on at the labs had been a godsend. He wasn't high up enough to deal with any of the crazy stuff that he'd only overheard in hushed whispers, the pay was amazing, and the work was easy if mundane. Best of all, no one was shooting at him, and he didn't have to shoot anyone else. For an army job, it was a little slice of heaven.

Or so he'd thought. Mike gagged as he pulled the half shredded corpse over his upper body. The doors were sealed, and there was no way out of this bloody hell hole, so he had to hide. Playing dead was the only idea that seemed to have even a snowflake's chance in hell of working. It was the smell that was his undoing. That putrid cross between a slaughter house and an outhouse that only a messy death left behind. He couldn't stop the dry heave that wracked his body when a slimy piece of dead guard landed on his lips.

The macabre sight of the dead corpse jostling up and down attracted X's attention while they moved down the hallway with steps silent enough that the cowardly guard hadn't heard the danger. A shrill screech of animal terror cut the silence of the hall when X tore the body away, revealing the whole guard underneath. X's teeth were bared in a savage grin, and with an almost playful swat the guard's left arm parted ways with his body in a violent spray of blood. The limb thumped to the ground, twitching in confusion from the sudden disconnect. If possible, the screams increased in pitch as the wounded man scrambled to his feet, slid on the gore soaked floor, and stumbled into a lurching run down the hall.

Before X could continue his play, the screams were cut off, and the man collapsed, a blade lodged in his back. "We don't have time for this." IX said coldly when X turned to growl at him for taking his kill. A single poisoned green stare was enough to make X huff and return to the task at hand. It didn't take long for the killer to find the Professor's den, and without needing further instruction, his claws carved a door in the Professor's inner sanctum.

Those fearsome claws shredded what should have been an impenetrable door. But damn it all, not against him, not our perfect unstoppable weapon. The Professor thought hysterically as he backed himself into a corner. It was IX who stepped into the room first, and a small glimmer of hope jolted him. The code! If I regain control of IX, I'll have both of them. Then I can unleash my creations on the Director and see that bastard scream while they hunt him to the ends of the Earth! But it had been months, and terror clouded his normally clear thought processes. Numbers cascaded through his mind, from his first locker number to his grandparents' phone number, but none were the code that could save him.

"IX...Y-you can't do this! I created you, you have to lis-" his begging was silenced by terror when IX stepped aside with a look of scathing indifference. X took his place and those terrible dark eyes burned holes into his soul. They were the eyes of death, the eyes of bitter retribution that would never hold mercy. The beast was everything they had hoped and more, and he was the death of them all.

Hot warmth spread over the front of his trousers, and it wasn't until those nightmarish claws sank into his midsection, purposefully missing vital organs, that he realized he'd wet himself.

IX ignored the shill rabbit like screams of the Professor as he began searching every inch of the room for documentation of his existence. The thick meaty sound of flesh being cut from bone didn't faze him while he worked. Finally, the annoying noise ceased when the wounds became to grave to survive, and still X continued to maul the body until the metallic scent of blood was replaced by the heavy aroma of ground meat. It didn't take long for the Professor to be reduced to scraps of flesh and shattered bone.

"Go, hunt down any who still breathe. Terminate all remaining personnel," IX commanded after X was done playing with his kill. A low growl met his demand, and a powerful hand ghosted over IX's shoulders. The touch left a long streak of blood behind before the large mutant stalked out of the room, leaving IX to deal with the task he'd been given.

It took over eight hours to clear the facility. Everyone from the scientists to the few remaining prisoners in their cells had been eliminated and all proof of IX's existence destroyed.

"Mission compete." IX said, activating the communication nano-technology with a thought.

"Leave the compound and wait in the surrounding forest. Field testing of weapon X will begin after the targets are in position. Do not interfere with the testing, observe and report. Further instruction to follow," the voice of his wielder crackled through his mind.

"Yes sir," he replied, before vanishing into the shadows to locate X and vacate the Hive.

PAGE BREAK

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, and added my story to their favorites. I'm so glad that everyone likes it so far!