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Weapon X: Man or Animal	By : AmandaJean Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > General Views: 1911 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3
Things happened fast that much Weapon X could acknowledge. They happened far too fast for his liking, but it was seldom that he got a choice in speed or how things were done. Especially when he was in one of the many laboratories or on one of the many missions he’s always sent on. And all he remembered was being this. Being a weapon and nothing more than a weapon.
He had emotions. They didn’t matter.
He felt pain. That didn’t matter.
He had a mind. It didn’t matter, only his physical status mattered and if he could accomplish his missions. And he could. He was a weapon, and he was the best there was at doing what he was designed to do. It was why his handlers hired him out so much, one mission after another. A sea of red was all he left behind in all of his missions.
But this place. This place was different.
So Weapon X figured that this place wasn’t one of the bases of operation he was accustomed to. It didn’t have the stink of blood, fear, hatred, misery and death. There wasn’t any loss of hope from what Weapon X figured, not that he knew too much about that when it came to others. He knew bad things happened at any of the bases he was at, which was another thing that seems to set this place apart from where he usually stayed.
Unless of course, it’s new. And new was never a good thing, his handlers and masters would want to try out new things and old things in new places.
Weapon X closed his eyes for a moment, remembering one of the many favorites they had.
'Weapon X found himself restrained on a metal slab. It was cold. The lights were too bright. He was too vulnerable, and naked under scrutiny. He didn’t care. He cared. He didn’t want to! His arms stretched out to the side, palms up. Legs closed. Voices, talking. Didn’t matter. Mocking! The words, despite how mocking those words were to him, were nothing more than background noise. Beeping, computers.
Nothing mattered.
Weapon X knew what they were going to do now, someone obviously required a kidney or some other organ. Or they needed more test samples. It was harvest time. And true to that Weapon X felt a knife cut down his stomach, kept cutting while two other doctors opened him to their eyes. Weapon X snarled and roared in unforgivable anger. No matter how many times they’ve done this, no matter how many times they will do this. It doesn’t stop the pain that’s caused by the constant cutting, constant digging and tearing.
The pain was the only thing he could look forward to in one of these settings, and if someone got too close to his mouth. He bites. And he takes chunks out of them. He liked the taste of their blood and the sound of their pain and fear.
Weapon X couldn’t even turn his head to look at the jars and the containers that they were setting his organs in. It was getting incredibly hard to keep focus and stay away as they kept cutting, kept digging and his blood kept draining. Weapon X let his lip curl in anger, but it was weakly done. So weakly they didn’t see a point in acknowledging it or punishing it.'
Weapon X’s eyes snapped open as he growled angrily and paced the cage up and down, back and forth. Too many things set this place different. It was to clean. It was too spacious. He could walk around in it, this was unusual. He wasn’t supposed to be able to walk around, stretch and there wasn’t supposed to be anything his handlers would use themselves. The bed. The toilet. A sink. Weapon X knew what these things were, but he had no use for them.
So that all made him wonder where he was, why he was here and what his mission was. His purpose, what was going to happen to him here. Shaking his head angrily he went back to pacing the cage.
He was a weapon. An animal. Something to be used. He was what he was, and he couldn’t run from it no matter how hard he tried or how fast he ran. He could smell blood, it set him on edge. He recognized this blood, the girl. He was told that the girl was his clone, and she was used just like he was. She went on missions with him, under handler’s supervision of course.
They did well together, no one survived them.
She spilt blood first, at their last faculty. That only set him off. Weapon X remembered well enough that he was trying to get out after blood was spilt by his clone. And things were almost going well; the soldiers couldn’t stop him no matter how many times they shot him or tried to shut him off. They failed, and they paid the ultimate price for that failure. His handlers learnt what fear truly was, their confidence and taunts gone instantly. Replaced by their own shared fear and wet pants.
Weapon X grinned savagely at the memory of that.
But just when things were going okay and he was getting out things gone wrong during his escape and his slaughter, very horribly wrong. He was attacked by mutants, they singled him out. Were they weapons too? No, Weapon X knew what a weapon was. They had too much… Too much of something to be weapons of any sort. So Weapon X knew they weren’t. Or at least he was sure they weren’t weapons.
Not weapons like Weapon X was.
But then what if they weren’t weapons, but handlers of sorts. Enemies! They had to be! Enemies or handlers! One or the other, they couldn’t be both. And that would mean punishment that would mean more pain and he will get to learn how they did things here.
Growling angrily he crouched in his corner, eyeing the door to the room outside this cage as a wild beast would. He couldn’t do anything, but intimidation worked beautifully. But if intimidation didn’t work, he used force until his handlers put him down to enforce their superiority over him. You had to in order to get him to co-operate, he was an animal. A weapon. A thing that didn’t always obey on first command, but always on second. He never pushed it too third.
Weapon X remembered that he nearly killed the mutants, his mockeries or new handlers. One made of metal. The other who healed like he did. Weapon X didn’t know why he smelt familiar, but it didn’t matter to Weapon X. Nothing did.
Weapon X snarled angrily, he came to the conclusion that he hated them. He hated this. His mind kept telling him to obey his handlers, to kill on their command. His instincts are telling him to do the same, but for himself. To escape. Everyone had to die! Weapon X wanted them dead. He wanted everything dead; it was what he was meant for.
To kill. To keep killing.
He wasn’t free to do anything else!
Weapon X’s hearing faintly picked up the sound of footsteps beyond that metal door. They stopped, but the door didn’t open and the footsteps didn’t leave. He snarled. It was doing nothing more than driving him nuts, he couldn’t smell who it was, he couldn’t see who it was he only heard the faint sounds of footsteps. Even that wasn’t reliable due to the thickness of the door that kept him from them. Not including the cage of course.
Weapon X picked up the faint scent of sulfur before the blue mutant appeared. Two things of food, Weapon X noted the tail twitched uncomfortably. Weapon X curled his lips and snarled in a threatening manner.
“Mein gott.” A soft voice said. German. Weapon X knew that was German. My God was the translation. Whispers of memories he didn’t own or have, all of it nonsense knowledge for a weapon with no faces or telling how he knows these things. Useless. Weapon X stood up, claws out.
“Here… Food…” The blue mutant he doesn’t remember seeing when he was recaptured. Demonic looking mutant with opposite personality from what he could figure, not that he knew too much on the matter. Weapon X noted, but it meant nothing to him. He was programmed to note things, to remember and to obey. He was the best there was, it was why his handlers hired him out. He got the job done and he did it well. He left no one alive that was supposed to be dead. No one. Not even children.
He was the best. He was a weapon.
Weapon X watched cautiously as the food as the mutant said it was, is placed through an opening. Gently. Unfitting for a handler or perhaps too fitting. He didn’t lunge at the blue mutant with a tail because of the stark contrast of outward behavior. It was offsetting, and Weapon X didn’t like it. It was unnatural. The blue mutant looked at him for a moment, Weapon X may not understand much about many things other than doing what he was designed for. But he knew what he saw on the blue mutant’s face.
Sadness.
Weapon X growled loudly. He was confused about why he saw such a blunt emotion directed at him. Directed at Weapon X of all things! He was a weapon! An animal! You don’t feel sad for a weapon! His growling increased, and he could hear distinct sounds of a girl getting agitated. He didn’t care! Within mere seconds he lunged at the bars separating him from the blue mutant, reaching through he tried to get a hold of it.
His rage for what he saw blinding him as his claws sprung out as he tried to cut the blue mutant, make it bleed. Make the blue mutant hate and get angry and rage, but at least there won’t be anything resembling sad on the blue mutant’s face. A distinct crash of a plate landing on the floor, the contents spilling all over the place. Weapon X felt the warmth of it against one leg and both feet. Moist. Warm. Threatening?
“Mein gott… Stop. You got to calm down!” The blue mutant ordered, no pleaded. Weak! Weapon X’s growling increased as he kept trying to get at the blue mutant who was pleading with him. Begging him. Nearly roaring in rage he paced back and forth as a wild animal would while he was trying to get at the blue mutant who hurriedly put the second plate within reach of the girl who was in the second cage he couldn’t see into.
And just like that the blue mutant was gone. Teleported?
Weapon X roared in rage. The smell of sulfur assaulted his nose again, but that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Weapon X didn’t know how long he raged, or even why anymore. He just did, angry. He was angry. But Weapon X couldn’t figure out why, but it didn’t matter. Faculties and laboratories always made him angry, and this had to be a faculty. It just had to be, nothing else made sense to him. Nothing at all, and that not knowing and not able to understand only worsened his moods.
The lights in the room were dimming; the girl in the cage next to his was quiet. Her breathing evened out, asleep. Weapon X finally stopped making noise, his stomach growled hungrily. But he didn’t make a move to the cold scraps spilt on the floor. Was it edible? Smelt it. But Weapon X didn’t really know for a fact, and didn’t make a move to eat it off the floor.
He barely noticed the bread placed between the cages near the viewing part of the cage. Who? Weapon X didn’t care. He crouched down and kept an eye on the door, more footsteps echoing faintly. Who? Handlers. Weapon X’s lip curled in anger, but he didn’t move even after he heard whispered unrecognized words that were muffled to a point he wouldn’t hear if he wanted to.
Masters or handlers? Both perhaps.
The lights dimmed more, time to sleep. But Weapon X didn’t care to. He just remained crouched in his corner eyeing the door and listening to silence and faint footsteps fading away. Figments.
Weapon X’s claws remained out, ready and waiting. Light reflected off of them and Weapon X refused to look at the reflection of his face in them, he didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stand seeing a face he didn’t recognize. It was a face of a stranger, a face he hated.
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Weapon X: Man or Animal