Dark Marvels: X-Men
folder
X-men Comics › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,030
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-men Comics › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,030
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The following story contains explicit sex, both consensual and forced. The Marvel Universe, the X-Men, and all characters thereof are the property of Marvel Comics, to whom I am 100% unaffliated. This is a non-profit fanfiction.
Chapter 2: Rogue Agents
"Mmm..." Misty's arms curl around me as we lie in bed, the first rays of dawn just peeking in through the window. I turn over, meeting her eyes. "Hey, honey," she says with a lazy smile. "Good morning."
"I think it's about to get better," I say back. Misty is a hell of a woman – smooth and muscular, with chocolate skin and an afro you'd have to see to believe. She's more lean than buxom, but that's fine by me. I've always preferred a woman who can handle herself in a fight to a porcelain doll. I guess she feels the same, because here we are in bed.
"I'll take the sausage," she shoots back, pushing me onto my back and straddling me. Last night, we spent an hour on foreplay. I guess she's a little less patient today. All things considered, it's over too soon, my hands running over her breasts as she pumps up and down, crying out happily as I shift my grip. I finish first, but I'm debonair enough to keep at it until she joins me, her mouth in a very adorable silent 'O' of pleasure. All finished, she slides off of me and lands feet-first on the floor. "That's the end, then, Mara?" I ask. We're using false names. Her because it doesn't look good for one of New York's Finest to be soliciting casual sex, and me because I try never to let the name 'Alex Hayden' get too close to one of my appearances in public. Leads to trouble down the road.
"Sorry, Jim, but I have to go to work," she says, bending over to find her underwear. I bet she does. Misty's a busy girl, what with working two jobs. The first is being a detective in the NYPD, and that's pretty busy by itself. The second is being on the payroll of Wilson Fisk, the Gentleman of Crime and one of New York's two remaining mob bosses. Fisk uses her to recruit from recently-captured criminals, blackmailing or bribing them into switching sides. "Yeah," I sigh. Reaching under my pillow, I slide out a black glove and quietly put it on. "Me, too."
Misty is still straightening up when the first bullet hits her, just at the base of her skull. It probably kills her outright, but I put two more into her skull just to be safe. Then I toss the gun to the floor next to her, and go and look for my pants. It's hers anyway; she was too smart to let me into the room carrying, but I slipped it out of her holster while she was uncuffing me from the bed and slipped it into the nightstand. Unfortunately, while I kind of like the Gentleman, he doesn't pay as well as New York's other mob boss, the Black Devil. The Devil runs the Hand, some kind of crazy ninja squad, and is involved in a pretty brutal gang war. Usually, he doesn't bother hitting the Gentleman's lower-level agents. But usually, they don't manage to recruit one of his elite assassins, so there you go. Net result, some low-risk work for yours truly. Way below my risk levels, but the Gentleman has been known to have a lot of superhumans on staff, so it pays to hire the best. Plus, the Devil likes to toss me work now and then. I suspect that he figures it'll keep me off his back - I try not to go after former clients.
I sigh as I finish dressing, stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind me. Half the building must have heard those shots, but this isn't a part of town where it pays to be curious. I figure I have at least an hour until the cops show up, and I'll be long gone by then. Leaving the building, I take a look around at the deserted street. One reason I went after Knight first was to find out where the assassin she was recruiting was planning to meet her, and after a glance at her notebook I know it won't be until after noon. I flip open my phone, dialling a quick number. "Hey, Sandi, want to go see a movie?" "No, Alex, because I am at your office doing your finances and waiting for you to finish the job. And also because it is 6 a.m. and there are no theatres open anywhere."
"Job's done, for a few hours. I have to go and deal with Knight's partner, but she's not going to be around until noon, and I'm bored." I sigh, kicking a can. "So I was thinking – movie. Come on, we could break into a theatre or something."
"Well, my work isn't done just because yours is. You need a hobby."
"I have a hobby," I point out. "I go to bars, get crazy-drunk secure in the knowledge that I won't have a hangover the next day, and hit on cute women until one of them sleeps with me."
"Then maybe you shouldn't keep mixing work with pleasure," she shoots back. Sandi is my receptionist and office assistant. You wouldn't think a criminal/mercenary would need one of those, but you'd be wrong. I basically keep her around for two reasons – because she helps me keep on track, and because she's the only person I know who's immune to my angriest glare. Well, that and she's a really good accountant, so three reasons. Oh, and she's smoking hot, too, so four. I'm going to stop there before this becomes a Monty Python sketch. "Well," she says thoughtfully, "there's a call for you on the other line. I've been getting information, but maybe you'd rather speak to him yourself."
"Big job?" I ask curiously. Her giggle isn't reassuring. "Just hear him out," she suggests. Frowning, I wait for her to connect me. "Mr. Hayden?" the man on the other end says. "My name's Anthony. You don't mind if I stick with first names, I hope."
"Not at all." I pause. "As long as Anthony isn't short for Tony Stark," I add. Mostly as a joke – I've heard Stark on the news enough to know his voice, and anyway he'd have to be an idiot to use his real name.
He laughs, but it's strained. "No, Mr. Hayden. I need to hire you, and I'm willing to pay you well. My girlfriend has been kidnapped, and I want you to rescue her."
I mull that over for a moment. "Has she been kidnapped by some super-villain?" I finally ask. "Like, the Spider or something? 'Cause usually I only get called in when..."
"She's a mutant," he interrupts. Fuck. "Not interested," I say bluntly, starting to pull the phone away from my ear. But I hesitate, thinking about what Sandi said about letting him talk, and he presses on.
"Wait, please! No one else can help me. You have no idea how hard it was just for me to get this far." His voice is earnest. "I think you can reach her."
"Who has her?" I finally ask. "Because if it's SHIELD, I'm not even going to..."
"She's in an X-Force training camp in Colorado."
"Really not interested," I say. X-Force is the stupid name for the Professor's private mutant army – the mutants not quite impressive enough to join the X-Men, but impressive enough to lay down their lives for their mutant messiah. Rumors say there are a half-dozen camps across the country, with over a hundred mutants living there full-time. The camps are also where the Professor supposedly keeps mutants who don't fight, where they'll be 'safe'. Hitting a camp would be less suicidal than attacking an important SHIELD facility, but this is a matter of degrees. "But as I am very bored right now, I will let you explain why the flying fuck you think I would be."
"Ten million dollars," he says. "Okay, slightly interested now," I admit. "But I can't spend it if I'm dead."
"The base is run by a mutant named Caliban," Anthony says. "Inez – that's my girlfriend – was rounded up by the X-Men a few weeks ago, and taken there. She found a way to contact me, sent me details of the base layout and guards. Then they caught her. At least, I assume they caught her, she didn't call in tonight."
"So, it could have been 24 hours since she was grabbed," I muse. "She might not still be there, man. The whole base could be gone by now. Frankly, it should."
"Maybe, but I don't think so. From what Inez said, they didn't know that she'd said anything. I think she got caught trying to gather other information. The important thing is, the camp's leader is a mutant named Caliban. He's highly placed in the Professor's circles, but he's not an X-Man. He relies on his own skills to keep intruders out."
"Right," I say. "And what skills are those?"
"He's a telepath," Anthony tells me nervously. "He can sense anyone who comes near, especially people with powers. And he can make them uncomfortable enough to want to leave – keeps random folks from wandering by the camp."
A light dawns. See, I used to be a normal guy, an assassin for hire – by a different name, mind you, but still. One day, I got caught in a rather complicated assassin plot, competing against two other mercs. One of them, a guy called the Black Swan, was a powerful telepath, and he tried to scramble the rest of us. Somehow – I'm still not sure on the details, frankly – I got the scrambliest end of the stick, and the long and short of it is that all the bits of my brain that are supposed to respond to telepathy don't. I also inherited a decently powerful healing factor from the other merc, but that's another long story. "I can get into the camp without being spotted," I say thoughtfully.
"Exactly. They've still got sentries, alarms, all of that – after all, SHIELD has robots," Anthony says, "but they'll be off-guard."
I think about it. "You have the full guard roster?" I ask.
"I can have it to a secure email server in ten minutes," he answers.
"Alright," I say. "I'll do it. But there's a condition, and you may not like it."
"I doubt I'll have a choice."
"I can't do this kind of job alone," I say. "And there's only one guy I know who's skilled enough to lend a hand, and crazy enough to be willing to. I've worked with him before. The thing is... he can be a bit of a loose cannon, sometimes. He goes by Deadpool."
There is a long pause, and I don't blame him. Deadpool's the source of my healing factor; his is a lot stronger, but mine has kept me alive more than once. We've worked together a few times since, usually on the trickiest jobs. He's also a committed pacifist, refuses to take missions based around murder or assassination. He kills, on average, eight people per mission. Also on average, one of them is a hapless bystander. Several of those missions have made the news, and these days he only gets hired by people who are desperate. And I hate to admit it, but when he's on his game, he's a lot better than me. "You know best," Anthony finally says. "I'll trust you."
"Great," I say. "I'll contact him as soon as I finish this job. You send me the intel, and I'll see about hitting the place tonight." "Thank you, Mr. Hayden," Anthony says, relief filling his voice. I hang up, smiling slightly. So, a new job, and a clean one for a change. Dangerous as hell, but I didn't mind the danger. And it's always nice to play the good guy for a change.
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