Weapon X: Man or Animal

Chapter 7 

Three weeks, twelve hours, forty nine minutes and twenty one second’s. She was told she wasn’t recaptured, but she doubted that, there was no proof to prove either scenario, though that meant little to her. No what meant something to her was that there were no new mission she’s required for. No new tests or doctors aside from the ones that come daily, twice a day. It wasn’t normal procedure, it was unnatural. Perhaps she failed? And failure wasn’t an option; it caused you to get punished. But sometimes even when she accomplishes her missions, she got punished.

She ignored the echo of stinging pain in her arms from her cutting at herself, noting the bread she placed between her cell and Weapon X’s cell was untouched. Acceptable. Normal. The clock kept ticking; she could see it from where she was lying. She never had one and in the same room as her before. They didn’t let her have anything aside from the clothes on her back.

Here she had a proper bed, toilet, sink and a pillow. Sleep was required, so she fell into dreamless sleep.

The sound of someone talking woke her up. Six hours, she was asleep for six hours in total. It was enough to cause her to be fully aware. She was used to less sleep when the doctors required her for testing or she was needed for training simulations and missions. Will she finally get her mission? Her mother never told her what her mission was before she died.

Frowning slightly she quickly schooled her features back to calm as she stood up. Growling and the sound of Weapon X slamming up against the bars of the cell caused one of the doctors of the faculty to back up, she detected no fear. This doctor was an obvious mutant; blue fur covered his body and blue skin where the fur didn’t touch. Doctor Hank McCoy she was told his name was. She addressed herself in response as ‘X-23’ it was what she was called.

“My stars and garters, did I wake you?” Dr. Hank McCoy said suddenly, her attention instantly drawn to what he was saying rather than observing him in general.

“No.” Was X-23’s simple answer, and it was true simply because she didn’t lie unless it was on a mission that required it. But mostly others took care of that for her, she just did the killing either by herself or with Weapon X.

X-23 sensed an awkward silence settle, unsure of what to do she settled on waiting for further instructions or further communication.

“That’s good. That’s good.” Dr. Hank McCoy finally acknowledged, X-23 patiently waited for more. She didn’t have to wait long until he started to talk again as he cleaned up the second mess Weapon X made,

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” X-23 answered, unaccustomed to someone communicating with her in such a manner. Still, it was… nice.

“That’s good…” Dr. Hank McCoy acknowledged, and true to his word she suspected that it was considered good. She did nothing to acknowledge that in anyway, not knowing how or knowing if she should. So she went for what was normal for her, missions.

“What is my mission?” X-23 asked bluntly. Missions were a way of life, she understood that much. Missions were important, they got her handlers money and power and control. And they used her to get it and that was what she was meant for. Meant? Past tense. Not important, missions were still important and she was still a weapon to be used. Just like Weapon X.

“Pardon?” Dr. Hank McCoy asked, he didn’t expect her to ask for what she did. But it was necessary, they obviously were lacking in knowledge of what she was meant for. That will change though, it always does.

“My mission.” X-23 clarified without much emotion, staring at him with her cool green eyes. She didn’t take her eyes off of him, and watched his emotions show themselves.

He looked sad. She didn’t understand why. Her life was this way because that was how it was, and she was designed for missions. Why would they take her away from that life? Was she no longer needed, if that was the case wouldn’t she be disposed of? More awkward silence.

“I can see why you want to know, being that you were taken from a life you were used to.” Dr. Hank McCoy slowly said, she listened cautiously. She only noted to herself that there was silence in the other cell. He continued drawing her attention back to him,

“You’re no longer at the facility, you are no longer getting missions from them.”

“Why.” X-23 asked, the thought confused her. Why was she not at the facility anymore? Did this have something to do with Xavier, her mother and that jet? Was that even real or another simulation cooked up to torment her? To test her? Why?

“Because this is what your mother wants for you and it might not seem like it now. This is a better chance at having a life of your own, you’re only in a cell right now until we are sure that your programming won’t harm yourself or others.” Dr. Hank McCoy explained to her, she could tell he believed every word he spoke. And she wasn’t sure how to take that.

X-23 thought that over to herself. She was stressed though that much she new. No missions. No missions. Why? What was her purpose now?

“You may not believe me now and you are no doubt confused, but things will get better Laura.” Dr. Hank McCoy said his tone taking a softer tone, but he seemed slightly unsure of the name. Almost as though he wasn’t sure if he should be using it, she couldn’t be sure if that was the reason or not.

Laura. That was her name. The name her mother told her was hers. Then, she died without giving her a mission, died on her.

“X-23.” X-23 coldly corrected, watching his every move and almost daring him to say otherwise. It was stressful, she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. Why couldn’t she understand?

“Very well. X-23 then.” Dr. Hank McCoy acknowledged, regretfully. She wasn’t too sure why he was regretful for it. It was what her name was to them. To everyone. Laura was just a name her mother gave her; it didn’t really make it hers. Not truly anyway. Did it?

Silence settled as the doctor finished cleaning up the mess, she remained standing. Waiting. If anything with the tilt of his head, it seemed like he was listening to something so she listened as well. She heard no one.

“X-23. Professor Xavier would like to speak with you, would that be okay if I took you to see him?” Doctor Hank McCoy said, suddenly shattering the silence and turning her attention back towards him.

She thought about anything she learnt of the name Xavier, it wasn’t much. Just that he is a threat to Doctor Rice, Colonel Stryker and the other heads of the facilities. She didn’t know what that meant for her, or how the few meetings with him since she was brought here added up. He always seemed genuine, kind even. But lies, those could be all lies.

“Okay.” X-23 confirmed and noted the satisfied look the large blue mutant had on his face. She kept her hands to her side; it was customary to do so when she was being transferred without cuffs. And since she saw no cuffs present themselves, she would keep her hands to her side unless she had to otherwise. But she’ll wait and see.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

He stopped thrashing against the bars in anger as he listened to the blue mutants talk with his clone. Sniffing the air lightly he picked up every emotion and every scent the mutant gave off, no lies. None of them. It meant nothing. The mutant could say what he wanted; it meant nothing in the end. He was only a mutant; mutant’s words amounted to nothing. It was the humans who pulled the strings in Weapon X’s experiences.

And he may be a weapon and an animal, but he knew enough to know that humans didn’t like mutants. That’s why they send him to kill mutants and sometimes humans or whoever he needs to kill. And he was good at it. The clone was young, not as experienced as he was. A child? What was a child? She wasn’t, he knew that well enough. Just like he wasn’t a man, he was a weapon. An animal.

Weapon X watched the mutant, handler wannabee maybe, walk X-23 away.

The sliding doors slid open, he saw a young boy walk by and pause with a girl next to him. White strip in her hair. They looked shocked, concerned. Worried?

Weapon X raged in his cell at that, he hated those emotions. Hated them. The whole thing was trashed by the time he was through, and the sliding doors were long since shut and locked. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Panting out of mild exhaustion Weapon X scanned the room. The food that was cleaned up was now sitting on a table across the room, soiled from Weapon X refusing to eat it again and shoving it away.

In the end he resigned himself to sitting in his corner between the bed and the wall. The floor was cold, so was the wall he leant against. Didn’t matter. Why should it? Weapon X kept his eyes on the door, and his senses directed that way too. He was trying to figure out what’s going on beyond it. But only heard traces amount of life. Barely anything to give him a clue about when things were going to get serious.

When was he going to get sent out to kill?

When was he going to get cut into?

When was he going to be attacked, humiliated and pitted against a bear or wolves or criminals or X-23?

When?

Weapon X snarled angrily, his teeth clamped shut and only did he notice faintly the pain in his jaw from clenching his teeth so hard. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t aware of how to consider it important. He didn’t understand that it wasn’t okay to get shot at, hurt or abused. Life was this. And this was his life. He was Weapon X, and only Weapon X.

Tired. He was tired, but he didn’t sleep. He fought it off the entire time he was here, only passing out when even his body couldn’t take it anymore. Or he was persuaded to sleep by his keepers. They always smelt of guilt though. Always. It was angering, frustrating and annoying. Weapon X had no use for their guilt, why would he need guilt?

He didn’t know how long he was sitting in his corner, starting to nod off much to his irritation and his snarls showed it. But it must have been a while now, the clock showed a different time. Unimportant. But noted. Sort of. It was only a glance; he had no use for time. And it was rarely given to him, but that didn’t matter. He never paid attention to it. His attention was on either nothing or something he needed to pay attention to.

A loud thud could be heard, and the sound of something being shot. What was being shot though? He didn’t recognize the weapon that made that sound. Not a gun. Not a cannon. What? An echoed roar, dulled from the walls between him and the fight. Weapon X felt his blood boil at the sound of that roar, it made him want to attack and to roar his own rage back.

He wanted to kill the one roaring, attack and tear the roaring one apart. He wanted to kill the one shooting a weapon, leave nothing but blood and body bits. Crawling forward slightly he sniffed the air, remaining crouched he looked at the door.

A scream. Pain. Weapon X snarled angrily as he settled for pacing his cage back and forth and back and forth. Like a wild animal there was no set pace to it or motion. His attention always on the door, always on the sound of fighting going on outside that door. More thuds, more shooting and more snarling and roaring. Something hit the door hard enough for it to slide open a sliver.

A red light went by; the sound of the shooting weapon went with it. A rumbling growl drew Weapon X’s attention. Who? Didn’t matter? Why? Unimportant. Weapon X huffed his annoyance and kept pacing, kept snarling and waited for his turn to come.

Then silence.

Weapon X found that confusing, he heard no orders or gunshots or further fighting. But everything was silent now, only the hum of machines outside that door and the flickering of a lightbulb in the room. Cautiously approaching the bars he wrapped his fingers around them uncomfortably. He couldn’t tell what was going on, and he was used to not knowing anything. It didn’t take away the annoyance that not knowing caused.

People moving, nothing spoken, but the two or more who were fighting were removed from the scene somehow? Maybe? Weapon X growled angrily before pushing his forehead against the bars angrily and glared at anything and everything with no target in mind.