Edited: 3/2/16

Chapter 14 – Mission Accepted

"Fighting terrorism is not unlike fighting a deadly cancer. It can't be treated just where it's visible – every diseased cell in the body must be destroyed." – David Hackworth

Chris deliberately took the seat farthest away from the small assassin, not because he was afraid of the green-eyed male, but because he felt physically repulsed by the other mutant. It had nothing to do with morals, no, it was power. Something about his power was inherently incompatible with IX, and he didn't know what would happen if they were too close together and both used their mutation. The technopath shifted in his seat when IX's gaze fell on him as if he knew what the other man was thinking. Maybe he does? I wonder if he agrees, if he feels the repulsion too. Were Chris bolder, he might have asked, instead he let the matter drop. He would continue on his campaign of avoidance and hope nothing came of his vague worries.

Before he could lose himself further in thoughts of their newest member, Major Stryker called the meeting to order.

"In recent months, the terrorist group known as The Ten Rings has acquired a stockpile of Stark Industry weaponry. As you may know, Stark products are the height military technology. Thus far, we haven't been able to find the leak in the company allowing the underhanded dealing. This organization has grown to the point where it needs to be eliminated, along with anyone in Stark Industries who has ties to The Ten Rings. If they're willing to supply to one terrorist organization, they will supply others.

"Zero, you will be sent in under cover to join the group. Unlike most of these organizations, The Ten Rings spans a number of different cultural backgrounds, and while they present a front of Islam extremism, we've deduced that power motivates them more than religious ideals. You will gather intel, and identify every member of the organization. Your primary objective is learning how they are connected to Stark Industries. When you're finished, you will give the information to IX, and he will neutralize them."

X gave a low growl when he wasn't mentioned in the briefing. Victor's fangs peaked out as he grinned at his brother's unhappiness at being separated from his pet. Yes, he'd certainly found Jimmy's weak point.

"IX, you will be stationed in Afghanistan as an outside observer. Gather as much information as possible but do not allow yourself to be captured or seen as a threat. With your youthful appearance, you should be able to go undetected." Stryker eyed IX. This assignment was more than simply removing a dangerous threat to the U.S. It was a test of the boy's skills. While killing the two traitors showed a willingness to do what needed to be done, as well as a useful innovative streak, it didn't give the Major a full scope of his abilities. Killing two unarmed women, one who was bound to a chair, wasn't difficult. This task would require stealth, skill, and nerves of steel. He deliberately kept X out of the mission to see how the boy did without his menacing backup. Yes, this was a test for IX alone, and he would prove his worth or lose his life trying.

Looking around the room, his breath caught when his eyes locked on X's cold whisky gaze. The large feral's gaze promised death should IX not return from this mission. It was only the small hand resting on X's wrist that kept him seated.

"Zero and IX, your plane leaves tomorrow at 0800, dismissed." With that, the Major left.

"No fair, why do you get to be the first to play with the little one?" Wade whined. Shink! His eyes widened in shock when three long metal blades hissed out from between X's knuckles. "Well, that's nifty! X the walking can opener." Before X could spring up and attack, IX brushed his fingers over the brand mark on the back of X's neck.

"Come." The soft monotone word was enough to rein in the large male's temper. IX stood to leave, drawing X along behind.

"Ahh, so that's how it is huh? I see who the dom is in this relationship." Wade chortled, unable to help himself as he imagined IX in black leathers wielding a whip and whispering cum in that dead voice of his. Every muscle in X's body tensed at the taunt, but IX was the one who replied.

"Wilson, learn to hold your tongue. I won't always be here to stop him from killing you." Wade's smirk wilted around the edges when he realized he wasn't joking. Hell, the kid couldn't tell a joke if I had him read it word for word, he thought sourly. Before he could think of another snarky reply, the pair left. Getting in one last romp before the mission I bet, he thought. Now that his mind had put them together as a couple, he couldn't get the images out of his dirty thoughts.

A low chuckle drew Wade's attention to Creed. The brutish male grinned at him, flashing a set of dainty fangs that would make a panther proud. "Gee Wade, you're going to be the first assassin to die because of sarcasm."

Wade pouted. "As if bitch boy could take me. Sure, he's got claws that make yours look like an ugly kittens, but my swords are longer." He grinned at the glare Victor gave.

Zero ignored the bickering, instead he pulled out his laptop and familiarized himself with the mission parameters and the target. The Ten Rings hid behind a smoke screen of Islamic fanaticism, but he saw what the Major meant when it came to recruitment. They were a group that used terror to gain control, but it was power they wanted. A slight smile curved his lips as he looked over the bait. He'd been given a small stock pile of Stark weapons, but the true hook was the partial blue prints to the crown jewel of Stark Industries. The Jericho Missile. The prints were just enough to entice, but not quite enough for them to build the weapon. In short, they were perfect, his free ticket into the organization.

IX left X in their assigned room to keep the larger male from hovering while he put his kit together. Getting used to dealing with X outside of training was difficult for the small weapon. When they'd been forced out into the elements without the proper supplies, it was reasonable for him to give over power to X. The climate, no matter how biting, wouldn't be able to kill the near-immortal. But for IX it had been a dangerous unknown.

That initial show of weakness once they were out of the relative safety of the training unit had a profound effect on X, cementing the role of protector into the feral mutant's mind. While those protective instincts had been of use during their last mission, they were proving to be a hindrance now. IX did not require protection from the mutants they were in command of, but X still growled and placed himself between IX and the rest of the team like an irritable muscle bound shield.

Success on this mission should prove his worth, and show X that he was capable of being outside of the other man's sight without coming to harm. When IX rounded the next corner, a clawed hand shot out, coiled around his throat and slammed him into the adjacent wall. His breath exploded out of his chest while the soles of his shoes dangled feet above the ground, but no fear touched IX's emerald eyes. Victor's lips curled in a teasing smirk as he held up the slender male with one arm. "Not so strong after all," he rumbled, leaning forward to breathe in IX's dark scent, flavored with ash, blood, and lightening. Overlaying it all was the long lost scent of his brother. Another snarl vibrated through him at the scent. "I wonder what Jimmy will do when he smells me on you, when my mark covers his, knowing he wasn't here to protect you." The claws dug a little deeper into his throat, drawing a drop of blood.

Still the expected fear didn't come. IX locked eyes with Victor's instead. "Your mistake is believing I require anyone's protection." Before the meaning of his words could sink in, IX moved. A slender dagger lashed out swift as liquid silver. Its edge licked over the wrist that held him captive, instead of going for the more tender organs. Years of sparring with X taught him the best method for fighting against someone with an enhanced healing factor. The hand holding him aloft opened when the ligaments were severed, causing IX to drop. Victor roared, his large fist drove downwards to crush the pathetic insect that dared try to escape him.

IX rolled when his feet touched the floor, his slender frame slipping behind Victor before he struck again. The bloodied blade nipped across the backs of the large man's knees, sending him crashing to the floor. Before he could regain his equilibrium, IX leapt. His light weight, coupled with his momentum, drove the air from his opponent when he crashed down onto his back and perched there like a vulture eyeing a dying water buffalo. Twin blades sank into either side of Victor's neck, each razor edge bit down until it rested almost gently into the slender gap between the C5 and C6 cervical vertebrae. They were arched just enough so that if the larger mutant attempted to lift his head, he would succeed in decapitating himself. Blood spread in a growing pool beneath them.

"Make no mistake Creed, I do not require you to make this team functional. You do not believe your life can be taken, but if I cleave your head from your shoulders, know this, I will burn it to ash. Then the scientists will still have the rest of your corpse to dissect at their leisure." IX's voice held no malice, it delivered the threat with a serenity that made Victor's heart shutter in his massive chest. Being killed by IX would be a wretched fate because he knew it would be done with utter dispassion. While his brother might kill him, it would be a thing of hate and fire; a tiger tearing out his throat. IX on the other hand was cold and empty. He would kill in the same way the undertow would, a force that drags one down and pulls them out to sea with the supreme indifference of the cold glittering stars.

Victor's claws dug furrows into the linoleum, every muscle strained against the urge to knock the small killer off his back. Only the small twinges of numbness shooting down his left side kept him still. The knives rested against his spinal cord, and he knew it wouldn't take more than a leisurely twitch for IX to finish it. Something coiled in his gut like a restless snake, and it took Victor a minute to recognize the emotion. Fear. For the first time in his exceptionally long life, he felt death was near at hand. IX had him, and his actions now would decide his fate.

A small gasp brought IX's head up and made his prey still further to resist the impulse to try and glance up too. "Did you need something?"

"N-no," Chris squeaked, his eyes as wide as silver dollars in his face while he stared at the bloody scene. Any thought about not being afraid of IX had been violently shoved out of his mind when he witnessed Creed's unmitigated defeat. If the short mutant could take someone like Creed down without breaking a sweat, then Chris knew he'd be dead in less time than it took for Wade to annoy Stryker.

"Then leave us."

Gulping, Chris did the only sensible thing he could. He turned and fled, hoping with all his heart that Creed didn't recognize his voice. IX might kill him in the blink of an eye, but Creed would gut him slowly if he knew who had witnessed his humiliation.

The lightest shifting of weight told Victor that he once again had IX's undivided attention. "Do you yield?" Although his tone was indifferent, the unrelenting bite of the knives lodged in his spine ensured that the answer would not be taken lightly. If he lied at this juncture and IX detected the falsehood, it would be his head. Swallowing, the harp wire tension drained out of the downed mutant. His claws retracted and the large hands rested limply on the scarred floor.

"Yes."

A low growl was the only warning given. IX didn't bother attempting to evade the harsh grip on his throat as he was seized for the second time in less than half an hour. X didn't slam him into a wall, but the stern grip made his breath rasp in the charged silence of their room. "I dealt with Creed, he learned his place."

X's whisky gaze narrowed, and a large thumb stroked roughly over the small gouge in his throat. "The debt was repaid." A low snort met the smaller mutant's words. X could smell the heavy tang of fresh spilled blood that clung to his little mate. Jerking IX's head to the side, his tongue stroked leisurely over the incriminating mark, erasing the scent of the other feral. Sharp teeth nipped the tender skin in reprimand for forcing him to stay behind, now and during the upcoming mission. Still, he would use the time IX was away to ensure that Creed understood the green-eyed male was not to be touched.

Baring his teeth in a savage grin, X bent and jerked IX off his feet. In three quick steps he folded himself onto the bottom bunk before tucking IX against his chest to sleep. IX grunted and tried to push off of the larger male, but thick arms held him captive. "Release me. We have two separate beds. It is no longer necessary for us to share body heat to survive." A small flash of irritation sparked in the back of his mind when X made no move to follow his directive. Instead, he just snuggled IX closer and nuzzled his neck. Again, IX tried to squirm away. "This bed is too small for both of us," he muttered in defeat, recognizing a losing battle when he saw one.

Something hard jabbed against his lower stomach, and IX gave another low sound of aggravation as he shifted in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. A small hand slipped between the pair and grabbed the hard shaft. X whimpered pitifully when he felt the delicate fingers grip him through the thin material of his sleeping pants. Before he could react, the little male in his arms adjusted his throbbing length to lay flat between them and let go.

Flat green eyes held a flicker of curiosity as they studied X. "Are you hurt?" he asked, wanting an explanation for the painful sound that had clawed its way out of X's throat. Another low whine was the only answer before X sank his teeth into his shoulder. The sharp pain was a familiar comfort, and IX decided his partner was unhurt. Closing his eyes, he let darkness claim him while he remained blissfully ignorant of X's plight. Shuddering with unquenched desire, X held IX close, and satisfied himself with the lighting laced blood dancing over his tongue.

The endless hours of the flight passed in a comfortable silence. IX reflected that Zero was an agreeable partner. He didn't waste time on meaningless conversation, instead he remained focused on the upcoming mission and the part he would be required to play. After they landed, they went their separate ways.

Afghanistan was colder than IX had expected, but it wasn't as bad as the Canadian wilderness. This time his clothing was suited to the environment and he was able to maintain a comfortable temperature. The landscape was a barren expanse that felt alien to IX. Although he had never experienced a true city, most of his mindscape training had been conducted in the urban setting. The only wilderness experience had been the shadows forest, and that had been close enough to the land outside of the training facility that he felt a mild connection to it. The desert was unlike anything he'd experienced before. Its tumbled rocks, scrubby plants, and hidden life grated against his nerves like the sand laced wind scraped at his exposed skin.

Ignoring the unpleasant feelings, IX began scouting the terrain for suitable shelter. It didn't take long for him to find a small uninhabited cave just west of the terrorists domicile. The structure was smaller than a bathroom, tucked away in a tumble of rocks. SSSHHHHHHH, a small throwing knife skewered the snake before it could do more than rub its scales together to create the warning sound. IX searched the cave with care for wildlife before he began skinning the serpent. After setting up a small smokeless fire to cook his makeshift supper, IX set up his small camp area.

IX settled in to eat when a low voice whispered deep in his mind from the link that had been given to Zero for the mission. "IX, this is Zero, over."

"This is IX. Report your current position and the status of the mission, over."

"This is Zero. Infiltration successful, unexpected development. This is the group that kidnapped Stark three months ago, I repeat, Stark is being held by The Ten Rings. Orders? Over."

"This is IX. Report received, stand by for orders."

With a thought, IX disconnected the current transmission and shifted to connect with Major Stryker.

"Stryker, this is IX, over."

"This is Stryker, continue."

"This is IX. Stark a captive of the rebel faction and is being held at the terrorist base. Requesting orders, sir. Over."

"This is Stryker. Leave Stark where he is as long as it doesn't appear he is in imminent danger. Should the risk level increase, evacuate him and complete the mission. Over."

"This is IX. Understood. Over and out."

Focusing his attention back to the connection with Zero, IX spoke. "This is IX. Orders are as follows. Leave Stark unless the situation degrades and his death is imminent. Should that occur, he is to be evacuated before resumption of the mission. Over."

"This is Zero. Stark appears to be wounded. You should review his condition in person to see if the damage is survivable or not. Meet me at 0200 during the shift change and I will slip you into the compound. Over."

"This is IX. Understood, over and out."

The lightly spiced meat of the snake was filling. IX was glad he'd learned how to cook for himself out in the wilderness. Even now, he preferred flesh cooked over an open fire to the MRE's that made up most of his diet. Once the meal was finished, he doused the fire and curled up in his bedroll to catch a few hours of sleep.

Zero waited, breathing in a low tendril of smoke from the cigarette that had been his excuse for leaving the cave. "Ready?" He jumped at the softly spoken word, his hand on his gun and half turned before he recognized the monotone.

Gritting his teeth at the ease with which IX had snuck up on him, he turned and glared at the short teen. IX was dressed like a native, his head and face wrapped to both hide his features and protect against the biting cold. He could easily pass for one of the criminals, albeit a short one. "Yes, come on." Zero replied, while trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. It wasn't IX's fault that he'd bested the tracker, but Zero didn't like having to swallow his pride at such an early juncture of the mission. Now I see why he was chosen to play assassin for our team. He could have killed me before I knew he was there. That reality wasn't a comforting thought, and he knew the rest of his life belonged to Stryker and his higher ups if this was the guard dog brought in to keep them in line. Zero was tempted to turn and shoot, killing the youth and blaming it on the terrorists. Instead, he continued walking. The odds of such a spur of the moment plan working were slim, and his death would be the only likely result. Better to wait and see how things progressed. He had nothing against his current team, or the work they did, so he should never come into conflict with IX or X.

The few people they passed didn't spare a second glance for the slender shadow following at his side. Something about the boy seemed to force curious eyes away when he was working undercover like this. He moved like someone who not only belonged, but who had always been a part of the scenery.

Zero took a small detour to the supply area to grab two servings of unappealing mush and a pair of stone hard rolls as an excuse to visit the prisoners. IX followed at his heels like the ghost of an obedient dog, making less sound than a drifting cloud as they passed through the reinforced door that housed the prisoners.

While Zero berated the prisoners in the harsh guttural tones of Mongolian, IX slipped deeper into the cluttered cavern before disappearing into the shadows. It didn't take long for the clang of the door to announce his partner's departure, leaving IX alone to wait until the pair slept.

"You know, I really think they make this out of dirt and camel piss. I mean this must be the reason everyone in this country is so pissed off all the time. The food is awful," Tony whined, glowering down at the brownish tan sludge that had been presented as dinner. Grunting, he banged the roll against the table and cringed at the loud clank the dense bread made instead of crumbling or even denting. "Are they trying to starve us into submission or what?"

Yinsen sighed at the billionaire's antics and put his biscuit into the sludge to soften up and make it edible. "You might as well eat and regain your strength instead of moaning about the quality." If it wasn't for the brilliant mind behind that foolish mouth, Yinsen knew the man would have been shot within the first hour of his captivity. Even though every word out of Stark's mouth was asinine, Yinsen had grown accustomed to the American. The arc reactor now residing in Stark's chest was impressive enough to earn his respect, if nothing else.

The arc reactor, and the soft tissue plans that were slowly coming to life. Yinsen didn't know if Stark was mad, or brilliant, but he wished the man well in either case. The odds of the machine working were slim, and death was a near certainty. It's fine, we'll take some of them with us to the promise land.

Once the sorry excuse of a meal was finished, the two men got back to work. Neither noticed the silent shadow observing their progress.

IX watched the men work. Having studied the plans for the Jericho Missile, he knew at a glance that whatever Stark was concocting wasn't a missile of any sort. His eyes narrowed when the one assisting Stark began strapping a bit of the contraption to the billionaire.

Over the next several hours, he observed the pair as they tested different parts of the hybrid mix of body armor and robot. Now he understood why he'd been ordered to leave the man in place. Genius at times required the illusion of impossibility to function at its highest levels, and Stark was proving his worth in the hard hands of his captors. IX's contempt for the guards grew as the men's audacious plan neared completion. Had he been in command of them, they would have produced what was required of them instead of creating something that would facilitate their future escape. If this was an example of the skill of the organization, they wouldn't be difficult to destroy.

IX's dark thoughts were interrupted by the door crashing open. Green eyes narrowed on the contingent of guards, and a small black blade slid into his palm.

With a casual swipe of the hand, Stark shifted the pile of plans enough that they appeared to be meaningless scrawling.

The man standing in the center of the group stalked forward and ran a finger over the arc reactor glowing softly in Stark's bare chest. "Relax." Raza, the new commander of the base, said with a dark smile. "The bow and arrow once was the pinnacle of weapons technology," he continued before stepping around Stark and glancing down at the scattered sheets of paper. "It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire. But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. And soon, it will be my turn."

Tony watched the man warily. He looked like one of the board of directors when he thinks he's gotten Tony backed into a corner. Except this time I'm backed into a cave, unarmed, and outnumbered by a bunch of desert madmen, he conceded. No matter how uncomfortable the board meetings got, they'd never been as bad as all this.

Suddenly, the dark man's smile melted into a scowl, and his next words were spoken in a language Tony couldn't understand. "Why have you failed me?"

"Er…I-"

Yinsen's voice cut him off in the same foreign tongue "we're working. Diligently."

Pit black eyes shifted from the American to Yinsen. "I let you live. This is how you repay me?"

"It's very complex. He's trying very hard."

"On his knees." Raza barked. The guards grabbed Yinsen's arms and forced him to the ground. "You think I'm a fool? I'll get the truth."

Stark's eyes leapt between Yinsen and Raza. Fear, an emotion he'd become uncomfortably familiar with in his time here, curdled the sludge in his stomach. The unwelcome emotion ratcheted up a notch when Raza picked up a hot iron and walked towards his kneeling companion.

"We're both working." Yinsen whispered, even though he knew the words would fall on deaf ears.

"Open your mouth."

Stiffening his spine, Tony snapped "What does he want?"

The demand was ignored. IX didn't move from his shadowed corner, content to allow this to play out since Stark wasn't being threatened.

"You think I'm a fool?" Raza snarled. Anger transforming his features into a harsh mask.

"What's going on?" Tony demanded again.

"Tell me the truth."

"He's building your Jericho."

In one swift motion, Raza grasped a fist full of Yinsen's hair and shoved his head onto an anvil. "Tell me the truth!"

"He's building your Jericho!"

Something akin to panic fluttered in Tony's eyes when the hot iron neared Yinsen's face. "What do you want? A delivery date? I need him. Good assistant." He tried, grasping at straws to try and stop what was happening.

For a tense minute, Raza remained poised to strike. Then he let the iron fall with a clang. Turning he gave Tony a black look. "You have 48 hours to assemble my missile."

The door slammed behind the guards, leaving a heavy silence behind. Yinsen's breath came out in a long shuddering sigh. Tony reached out and helped the older man up, both ignored the way his hands shook. "Come on, let's get some sleep. We'll finish everything up tomorrow."

Mere hours after IX departure, the rest of the base ached for his return. X stalked the halls like wolf who's found itself locked inside a building. Everyone he passed couldn't help but cringe when his savage gaze tore across their faces before dismissing them.

"Relax little brother, I'm sure your little fuck toy will be back soon." Victor bit back a curse when X twisted around, claws extended, and lunged without warning. Pain lashed across his broad chest, spilling blood in a hot wave. The cuts were deep, but not deep enough to sever bone. "I see the lab pukes managed to finally give you the killer instinct," he snarled, his own nails lengthening into lethal talons. The two men circled each other. Ducking under a swipe that would have decapitated him, Victor drove his claws into X's exposed gut before twisting away, ripping along the flesh for added damage. "Shit." He hissed when the wounds healed so fast X's blood hadn't even spilled. "What the he-"

A fist slammed into the side of his head, and the force of the blow sent Victor to the ground. In an instant X was on him. Agony exploded through the large male as blades carved into his flesh. The pool of blood beneath them grew, and Victor's body went limp in submission, acknowledging before his brain could catch up that he was defeated. Still the savage attack continued, pain inflicted as punishment for daring to touch his mate, and the need to dominate coloring X's primitive brain red.

"Stand down." The voice snapped through the killing haze that engulfed X and he jerked upright as the leash of obedience drove spikes of agony into his brain. Victor was unrecognizable, but the large chest haltingly rose and fell, showing that he wasn't dead yet. X's blood stained lips curled in a snarl. "I said, stand down X." Stryker's cold voice forced his attention around to his new keeper. "I won't ask you again. Clean yourself up and return to your quarters. You will remain there until IX's return. Is that understood?" Brown eyes narrowed, but X's shaggy head dipped in acknowledgment before he turned and stalked away, leaving crimson footprints in his wake.

Kneeling outside of the pool of blood, Stryker observed the damage with a jaundiced eye. "You were warned to leave IX and X be, and now I find that you've almost been killed by both. Listen carefully Creed. This is your last warning, you are one of my more valuable tools, but in the end you're just that … a tool. If you can't function with the new team members, then you are worthless to me. I won't save your sorry hide again. Now drag yourself down to the medic and let him piece you back together. Even your healing factor is going to need a little help."

It didn't take long for the exhausted men to pass out even though the cots were about as comfortable as boulders. IX waited until quiet snores announced their departure into the realm of sleep before he moved. His silent stride took him to Stark's side. It had been nearly three months since the attack on Stark's caravan. After the first week of no contact demanding payment, the billionaire was presumed dead by military personnel even if there was still public outcry that he had to be alive. It appears the civilians were correct, IX mused as he studied the gaunt man. Captivity hadn't been kind to him.

IX's eyes drifted down to Stark's exposed chest, and focused on the strange object imbedded into the flesh. Reaching out, he laid a hand over the soft blue glow and closed his eyes. The smallest trickle of power slipped from his skin and into the device, careful, ready to pull back at the slightest sign that the power would interfere with whatever the thing was supposed to do. Instead of the spike of pain and push back electricity gave before it clashed violently with his power, he felt a soothing hum that complemented his own power instead of fighting it. Strange, he thought before allowing more of his power to sink into the sleeping man.

One breath, two, and he found the purpose of the object in the jagged slivers of metal lodged in Stark's chest. Metal that was being kept from his vital organs by the strange device. With enough time, IX could have extracted and healed the damage, but it would have been a painful affaire, and his mission would be compromised if he revealed himself to Stark.

Opening his eyes, he froze when his gaze was captured by curious brown.

"Who're you?" Tony's sleep slurred voice broke the silence.

Thank you everyone for sticking with me, reading, reviewing, alerting, and adding this story to their favorites.

Author Note: This chapter is dedicated to Demonsinger for suggesting the team go after the Ten Rings, and to AnimeIceFox for suggesting they interfere with the capture of Tony Stark.