2 years ago... Weapon X base X, location withheld
The Weapon X Director scrolled through the list of names, noting the deaths identified as natural causes with satisfaction. He regretted having to cull his fellow non-mutants, but to further the interests of Weapon X, their removal had been necessary. Senators, Premiers, generals; positions military, business and political, they had fallen -sacrifices for the greater good of all humanity. All who opposed the suppression, containment or elimination of the mutant menace were neutralized, allowing the organization that had once been Canada's Department H to continue in it's headlong rush to save the human race.
Agents had fallen in their duties, others -fatally flawed- had become overwhelmed, tried to flee and had been taken out by his counter-agents. As much as he hated them, the mutants in those positions were also an evil necessity. Much like the one who stood silently in front of his ebony desk, glowing blood-orange eyes reflected in it's near-mirror like finish.
“It's done? No complications?” he asked tersely. The figure nodded once, eyes never leaving his face. A small black plastic thumb drive spun into his desk lamps circle of warm light from the shadows and stopped within his reach.
His mutilated face split into a horrific smile, eyes behind the mirror bright lenses of his glasses as cold as the gaze of the Agent who was nearly invisible.
“Well done Agent Darkness,” he began and was interrupted when Agent Jackson strode in unannounced. The black figure retreated respectfully to one side, carmine eyes immediately on the floor.
“I respectfully demand to know what the HELL is going on Sir? I just got a report that one of our business holders dropped dead of a heart attack in his home office. He'd just been declared fit and healthy by our own medical department a month ago!” the slim blonde man's pale face with ruddy with anger and embarrassment. He stopped in front of the huge desk, indignation quivering in every line of his body.
The Director raised a sardonic brow, pulling his scarred flesh into a nightmare mask of cool disinterest. Wordlessly he uncapped the thumb drive and plugged it into a small reading device near his over-sized computer screens, pressing another button and letting the mid-air display show a variety of pictures and graphs.
Jackson stared a moment at his boss and then glanced at the data, his colouring going from flushed to pale.
“It appears that our business holder had a little project going on that he hadn't told us about. One that not only diverted substantial funds into his own accounts, but also had contacts of the sort that goes directly against the interests of our organization, Agent Jackson.” The Director said smoothly, steepling his broad hands, wedding ring flashing in the low light of his only lamp.
“We can't have that kind of behaviour, Jackson. We simply can't.” he continued. A hand waved at the shadows.
“I'm afraid I had to let Agent Darkness deal with the situation before it got out of hand... an example to the rest of our holders lest they get similar ideas.”
Jackson's eyes behind their coloured goggle lenses flicked to the figure that stood a good half foot smaller than he and turned paler yet. He gritted his teeth.
“You had this... THING turn a very valuable asset into a corpse? Sir...”
“I know how you feel about her, Jackson. The whole base knows. The fact that she won't allow herself to be your little plaything just shows that her training and obedience are absolute... unlike certain other members of her section.” Director Malcolm's voice was rich with scorn. Jackson ignore the dig.
“Sir, Sabretooth demanded that Wildchild's vocal cords be disabled permanently on the Sunfire acquisition because he would otherwise kill him. We've put too much money into conditioning Wildchild to our specifications...” Jackson began, tersely, before the Director interrupted.
“None of which were necessary to condition Agent Darkness here. Sabretooth is fast becoming more of a menace and liability lately- as it was he'd eviscerated Agent Darkness HOW many times before we implemented a boost to her reflexes and gave her the nanite suit to obscure her from mechanical and physical observation and detection?”
“Sir, she was just a healer before her inception into the program, and before that a non-member of the Flights used only as a back up to the medical department...” again the blonde man tried to protest and was cut off.
“Oh yes, a non OFFICIAL member of Alpha, Beta and Gamma Flights because healers are rare, Agent Jackson. Rare and valuable, and her talents were wasted while her unstable powers were being harnessed and 'trained' by that incompetent Doctor Langkowski. Talents that are key to remaining undetected at this crucial time. We can NOT afford to be detected by outside interests like the X-Men.” Director Malcolm slapped his desk and Jackson flinched, eyes flicking briefly to Darkness, burning with hatred and not a little fear before returning to the grotesque face of his superior that was mercifully obscured by the shadows.
“Agent Darkness knows her worth and knows that I would not hesitate to eliminate her if she does anything other than what she is commanded to do. She follows her orders to the letter- and if she is not as powerful or vicious as the others in the Feral Department, she is at least effective in the more subtle ways I choose to use her, Jackson.” the bigger man behind the desk waved his hand negligently again.
“What's done is done, and for good reasons. MY reasons.” He leaned back in his huge chair.
“Agent Darkness.” he said, and the small figure was instantly beside the desk, burning orange eyes upon his face even though it was turned away from her.
“If Agent Jackson does not leave within 5 seconds, you are to over-ride his nervous system and FORCE him to leave. Understood?”
A single nod, and the tilted eyes turned upon the other Agent with cold hatred. A flicker of violet soon grew in their depths for a moment before the gaze turned solid blue-violet.
Agent Jackson made a strangled sound and whirled on his heel, almost sprinting out the door in his haste to avoid her.
The incandescent violet light winked out, leaving the crimson tinged eyes glowing their original orange-golden colour. She turned to once again face her boss, silent and intent.
The Director took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Darkness's gaze followed the movement, and hesitantly she raised a black clad hand in his direction- a mute offering of comfort.
The cold eyes in the savaged face glared at her.
“NO. I don't need your pity-healing, Emily. You will never touch me. NEVER. Do you understand? Your days of healing are over, permanently. You are a weapon. You are a dangerous weapon and you will never NEVER be turned upon me- your conditioning has been set to that and will always be.”
The hand fell to her side, the eyes fell upon the desk, burning... burning with shame, anger and hate. Despite the molten colour of their hue, they were cold, terribly cold.
The Director replaced his glasses and glanced at the time.
“Weapon Darkness, your request to heal Aurora's face from Sabretooth's savaging is also denied. Our surgeons are more than capable of restore her looks. Considering how much you hate her for having rejected Wildchild's advances, I will not risk you touching her.”
She flinched, but ever so slightly.
The man chuckled then.
“Ah, touched a nerve did I? Well Emily... you thought I didn't KNOW about your unrequited love for Wildchild? All those years of adoration only to be rejected in favour of the ever exquisite Aurora? The woman who not only took your love, but had a place in Alpha Flight when you were relegated to the background, near useless? Beautiful crazy Aurora who could have any man while you couldn't so much as TOUCH one for fear of killing him with your uncontrolled healing powers? Poor little dumpy nice-girl healer, lost in the shadows, just like you are now- a nobody, a nothing who can only kill who I tell you to kill. You're only useful to me so long as you do that, Emily. You're as faceless as the dark in this room, and you'll stay that way until I'm done with you.”
He leaned forward, eyes glittering with hate.
“And when I'm done with you, maybe I'll send Wildchild to kill you.” he hissed.
“Now get out of my sight.”
Her eyes, riveted to the desk flicked upwards only for a split second, filled with so much hate and the promise of her suppressed powers to kill, to manipulate organic life down to the molecular level was lambent in her gaze.
Silent and unseen, she whirled and was gone.