Marked Target - Chapter 2

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Marked Target
~ Chapter Two ~

by:
Danielle Krieger
(c) 2011

Lawrence "Lex" McKinley lives about as average a life as one can with metahumans popping up everywhere. Well, as normal as someone who spends their free time as an MMA fighter really can. He's about to get the shock of his life--the punch he never saw coming.

In this installment: Lex begins to discover that he is imprisoned. How long? Who is keeping him? Why are they doing this? Who is that looking back at him in the mirror?

X-23_RetCon_Facility.jpg

DISCLAIMER :: This is a retroactive continuity. A “ret-con”, if you will. It follows other stories in Lilith Langtree’s “Comics RetCon Universe”. The story is mine, but some of the characters are not. This is a RetCon of X-23, from Marvel Comics’ X-men (with a special guest appearance from Dr. Hank McCoy). Laura Kinney, X-23, and Dr. Henry Philip “Hank” McCoy, Beast, are trademarks of Marvel Comics. All rights reserved. The pic, this time, has been brought to you by the incredibly talented Billy Tan.


Chapter Two:

There’s this little thing about artificial, drug-induced sleep: you never dream. Through biochemical processes, your body is allowed to rest, but your brain still believes it is awake. Therefore, it will continue with its business until the body sends the signal that it’s time for repairs. It’s during those repairs that rapid eye movement (REM) sleep engages and you dream. People can live on for days, weeks, months, and even years but never be aware of the passage of time. In short: I have no idea how long I was out. It was like what I assumed being in a coma would be like or surgery. I’d never had surgery, so you can nix that frame of reference.

Slowly, I could feel my eyes begin to open. The great thing was there was no pain, but my head was still swimming. My vision was blurry, but there was a bright light pointed in my direction. It hurt. So, my eyes closed again. Yet, I could feel my head slowly roll back and forth. No other body part responded to any commands. The signal was going out, but didn’t come back and nobody responded. Great, my body was numb from the neck down. An exhalation revealed that my voice was very hoarse and sounded like I hadn’t had any water in days. It made a sick hissing sound.

Again, my eyes attempted to open. Thankfully, the light was much dimmer, now. Apparently, my head had sufficiently turned away from it. My vision was blurry and my eyelids were so heavy they felt as though they’d been closed for about a year. I tried to blink rapidly, but that wasn’t going to happen. I simply rolled my head to the right, away from the bright light, so that my eyes could slowly acclimate to my surroundings. This could take a while. Thankfully, I could hear soft, muffled footsteps that told me someone else was in the room with me. That gave me a little comfort, but not much.

The acclimation process seemed interminable. What should have taken minutes seemed to take hours. Though, when my visual clarity was enough to make out my surroundings, I felt like I had stepped out of my life and onto the set of Conspiracy Theory. You know, that great Mel Gibson movie where Patrick Stewart plays the bad guy? Yes, that one. The place looked like Alcatraz needed a new paint job and definitely needed the floors redone. It smelled like canned ass mixed with formaldehyde, too. Reminded me of the locker room. It may have been enough to induce vomiting, but there was nothing in my stomach to come back up.

My head rolled to the left, again. Though, this time I closed the left eye to further shield from the bright light. The sight my one eye beheld was something out of some episode of some obscure horror show on the Sci-Fi Channel. I was wearing something like a really long, white T-shirt that hung on me like some weird dress. There were leather straps everywhere, holding me to some strangely configured gurney. My arms and legs were separated from each other and my body. Honestly, the position my body was in gave the impression I had one of those glider suits on and had to spread wide to keep the air in the pieces between so I didn’t reach terminal velocity. It’s the only known way humans can “fly” without a machine propelling them. It also looked like that Leonardo Da Vinci painting with the guy all spread eagle, two arms, two legs, surrounded by a circle. What was it called again?

Still, odd position, but that wasn’t the worst part. There were electrodes hooked up to my forearms and calves that caused my feet to point outward and my hands to grip the ends of the “arm” tightly. There was some medical apparatus attached to the places between my index finger/middle finger and ring finger/pinkie finger areas. The same down between my big toe and index toe. It seemed to be some sort of medical clamp, but it was holding the skin open. Initially it looked like there was some kind of bony protrusion coming out from between my knuckles and there was something very red being clamped down around them.

So, I screamed. Or… at least I tried to. The only thing that came out was more like a frightened moan, if that makes any sense. Honestly, even now, I find myself wondering just what the fuck came out from my lips. I keep referencing the verbal exchange from The Princess Bride:

Westley: [inaudible]

Inigo Montoya: “’True Love’, you heard him? You could not ask for a more noble cause than that.”

Old man: “Yeah, True Love is the greatest thing in the world…. He distinctly said ‘To blave’ and as we all know, ‘to blave’ means ‘to bluff’, heh?”

Anyway, I was stuck in freak out central. What on the big, green, spherical Earth were they doing to me? I didn’t really have enough time to find out. The man with the shuffling feet quickly glared in my direction.

“Shit! He’s awake! Dose him again!”

There was another bee sting in my neck and about five seconds later, I was out like a light, again.

* * * * * * *

Cotton mouth. Hate that! It’s a well-known side effect of the medications anesthesiologists use to knock you out for surgery… or, so I’ve read. It’s also a rather common side effect of smoking Cannabis, but I’d never done that, either. Anyway, when I came back to the land of the living, I had one of the worst cases of “cotton mouth” that I’ve ever experienced. However, there was bright light waiting for me to open my eyes and I was not in the mood for any pain, just yet. My body still felt incredibly heavy, but at least I could feel everything from the neck down, now. That was mildly reassuring. Clumsily, I lifted my arms and brought them to my face. The good news: I wasn’t tied down to anything. The bad news: I didn’t like what I felt.

Again, not knowing how long I was out, I expected to find a little beard stubble on my cheeks, chin, and upper neck. Doesn’t every guy? Instead, what I found was smooth, soft skin–like, baby’s butt smooth. I jolted upright and my eyes shot wide open. That really hurt the eyes, which instinctively clamped shut again. However, I was awake, now… really awake.

Forcing my eyes to brave the light, I fluttered my eyelids a few hundred times. I was in a room, a really plain one at that. Strangely, this one had been repainted. As my tired eyes scanned it, they didn’t find much besides cinder block walls that were painted white, a gray cement floor, a cream-colored door, a stainless steel toilet in the corner with sink attached, and a big “mirror” on one wall. I had been laying on a hard surface with a small mat and sorry excuses for a pillow under my head and blanket draped over me. How did I end up in jail?

Gathering up whatever strength I had, I planted my feet firmly on the cold concrete and ignored it while I moved over to the big “mirror”. I’d seen enough of them. Just by looking at it, my eyes immediately recognized a two-way mirror. The first look at myself caught me a little off-guard. I could tell there were subtle changes in the reflection staring back at me. Again, I brought my hands to my face and felt the soft skin of it. To me, the reflection looked a little pale. That wasn’t what caught my eyes, though. I usually shaved my arm hair for tournaments, but that had been somewhere in the vicinity of two weeks ago. There should be hair on them, by now. However, there was none and the skin was the same pale color of my face. What the heck was going on?

The inspection continued. For the record, the shirt was technically a dress. It looked like a long, loose T-shirt, but it hung to about the middle of my thighs. Again, my legs were the same pale coloring of my face and arms. I was noticing a pattern. More puzzling was the fact that there was, actually, hair on my legs. However, they looked more like Julia’s did if she went about two months without shaving them, which only happened once. Yes, I pulled a “duh!” action in the next second. My hand shot straight towards my crotch. I am happy to report that, just like always, I had a good handful of penis and scrotum. I let out a relieved sigh. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea, though.

“Well, well… our subject awakens.” A not-so-easy-to-decipher male voice sounded from what seemed like a nearby speaker.

Though I expected something like this, it still startled me. My eyes darted around, scanning for the little speaker box. It hung just above the center of the “mirror”. My eyes fixed on the reflective glass and narrowed. “Who are you? What do you want with me? How long have I been here? Where’s Julia, you sick bastard?” My voice was a little hoarse. Chalk up another score for the drugs.

He made some kind of sound like “tsk, tsk, tsk” in response. “Now, now, Mr. McKinley. You mustn’t over-stimulate yourself, lest you suffer a quicker transformation.”

My puzzled expression reflected right back at me. “Transformation? What are you talking about?”

“I would assume that you have heard tell about a certain rise in what we call ‘metahumans’?”

My eyes lowered as if contemplating the lower part of the mirror. There had been news reports of some Jade girl who dressed in a tight green and black outfit who had made a very public statement about the existence of “metahumans”. Then, there was some Terra girl in Texas. After that, some chick went crazy in Japan. Not long after, somebody who looked for all the world like the personification of a God from Norse Mythology (the Thunder God, Thor) with the outfit and big ass hammer, but they had boobs and lived in Kansas. Finally, there was some weird chick that idolized Robin Hood, apparently, who’d managed to rescue a whole cruise liner in the Caribbean and was now gallivanting around San Francisco. The press was having a field day with it. It was a break from covering the rampant corruption in Congress and the nasty truth behind two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Limply, I shrugged. “I might have heard of a couple. Didn’t hear that word, though.”

Did he really just cackle? “Oh, you are such a simpleton. My boy, you are one of them. We’re going to see just how far this meta-gene can go. You’re going down a rabbit hole, my friend, and it’s not a request.” A faint hissing sound reached my ears. “For the record, you’ve only been here approximately three days. It’s hardly enough time to find anything conclusive. You’ll be our ‘guest’ for some time. Sleep well, my boy.”

My body started to get heavy and my head started swimming again. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I lost my balance and fell over. At least I landed on the bed, but it just wasn’t soft enough.

* * * * * * *

Waking up this time was a lot less groggy. Again, there was the mystery of just how long I was out. This time, my tired eyes scanned the room and landed on a tray of food in the middle of the floor. Good thing, too, because if felt like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. I swung my legs over the side and hopped down. Wait. Hopped down? All I had to do before was slide off. My eyes darted over to the “mirror” again. Something was definitely happening to me and it was very obvious.

My face was smaller, rounder, and softer-looking. My eyes looked twice as big. My eyebrows weren’t caterpillars over my eyes, anymore. They were very much thinner. My hair looked a little bit off. Had I sweat or did it actually get darker? Beyond that, the T-shirt/dress looked a little bigger on me. At eye level, I could tell that I had actually gotten shorter by about two or three inches. How was any of this possible?

Now was not the time to think about such things. Now, my stomach was growling fiercely.

* * * * * * *

The changes were getting more obvious, seemingly by the hour. My hair was completely black, now, and I had shrunk a little more. At least, that had stopped, yesterday. All the skin on my body was now much softer than it had been since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. In truth, touching my own skin was like touching Julia and it creeped me out more than a little. After all that, my chest itched something fierce and no amount of scratching eased it.

I learned how to tell time, though. They brought me three square meals a day. First one was morning, second was about noon, and the third was about dinner. They usually gassed me to sleep shortly after dinner. Then, all back to square one. Each day, the removed all three trays. They’d done that eleven times, now, so about fourteen days had passed since I got here. Where the heck was “here”, anyway? Weren’t people looking for me?

I felt so small, now, and my muscles seemed to be dissolving. I didn’t have bulky ones to begin with, but they were firm, tone, and readily in sight. They were disappearing rather quickly. Sitting on the “bed”, I bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them. The gas should be coming any minute, now.

* * * * * * *

Fuck, my dick was small! I’d been watching it get smaller and smaller over the course of a week until it was at a point, now, where it looked like I was six! It was bad enough they had to take my freedom, but “Little Soldier Boy”? Where’s that get fun?

Adding insult to injury, little nubs had formed on my chest. At first, there was the itching. Next, my nipples looked puffy, even as my pecks shrank out of sight. Now, there was no denying that there were little nubs that poked into my shirt and tented the fabric ever so slightly. My skin got a whole lot softer, too. Touch my arms and it was like holding a baby. Same with my legs. I didn’t dare venture under the T-shirt/dress that now hung to my knees. Looking into the “mirror”, my face was getting much more round, soft, and, dare I say, “delicate”? My hair and nails were growing out, but that was just time. Anybody who would recognize me as the Brendan Fraser look-alike wouldn’t recognize me, now. I didn’t even look like a guy, anymore. I was now what they call “androgynous”.

This will only end in tears.

* * * * * * *

My life officially sucks. Another week gone by and there was a funeral at Arlington for my “little soldier”. He was buried two days ago. I played “Taps”. It was beautiful. In his place, a puffy slit had formed. I had seen enough to know what that was. I had no idea if there was anything going on inside, but I was now the owner of external vulva. There was no pride in this. There wasn’t enough time to really mourn my little buddy. As soon as he was buried, the changes in my body really accelerated. Yes, I got a visit from the “boob fairy”. Damn things had gone from little nubs to puffy little cones. They were still a bit small, but they made it known that they weren’t about to stay that way. Not to mention, there was this annoying pain in my lower back, almost as if my tailbone was going to split in half. I don’t recommend it.

My face? Yea, that had changed. It wasn’t my face, anymore. I didn’t know who the fuck that girl was in the “mirror”, but she sure as fuck couldn’t be me!

The bastards have no heart. I woke up one morning and my shirt had been changed. It wasn’t the oversized, white T-shirt/dress anymore. They’d replaced it. It hung on me about like the first one had when I had first woken up. Worse: it was fucking pink! When I attempted to protest, they gassed me. At least, I was sleeping well.

* * * * * * *

Cotton mouth. Again? This was, what, the third time this month? What the fuck were they doing to me? There were so many questions and very few answers.

My body protested when I tried to move. Again, everything felt really heavy, especially my upper arms and lower legs. When I grumbled in protest, I got the shock of my life. My voice wasn’t my voice. It was almost like some whiny little girl grumbling to her parents about not being able to sleep another five minutes before having to get ready for school. I sat up in a huff. A foreign weight tugged on my chest and my hair hit me in the face. Now, my eyes were wide open.

Looking down, I was staring right between a pair of fleshy mounds that hung off my chest. They looked huge! My now raven black hair fell on either side of my face. Feeling a bit of urgency, I leapt out of bed and spun to face the “mirror”. Who the fuck was that? How did a teenage girl get in my cell and why was she looking at me like that? Since when do I have green eyes? Several times, my eyes darted from my chest to the “mirror” and back again. Below the neck, there were two engorged orbs pushing out the top of my T-shirt/dress, it synched in at the waist, and two rounded hips pushed out the sides near the bottom. The hair on my head was now long enough that it reached my shoulders. How long was I out?

I didn’t have time to dwell on this. There was an urgent need that suddenly swelled up in my abdomen. I ran for the toilet. My cushioned rear landed rather hard on the stainless steel metal surface. It was cold. “Where’d the panties come from?! This isn’t funny anymore!” The girl’s voice yelled at no one in particular.

--------------------------------------------------------

The woman in the skirt suit, suntan nylons, black pumps, and white lab coat entered the room, sipping a cup of coffee. Sitting down at the table, she set her mug on a coaster and laid out the portfolio that had been nestled under her arm. She opened it and began to review the medical data before her.

“How’s our girl, today?” She glanced up to the female guard across the room who was situated by the semi-transparent glass.

“Pissed about your choice in underwear, as I understand it. I turned off the sound a while ago. She snores and it’s a little annoying.”

The suited woman smiled. “Well, she’ll just have to adjust, as will we. Anything new?”

The guard shook her head. “She was checking herself out a minute ago before she had to pee. I don’t think she realizes that she was unconscious for three weeks.”

The suited woman took a sip of coffee and raised her eyebrows at the guard. “Discovered the ‘boob fairy’, did she?” The guard nodded. “A shame we had to cut the procedure short. Something happened. We had to cut her loose.”

The guard woman stood. “Oh? Can I ask what happened or is it top-level classified kind of stuff?”

The suited woman shook her head. “Oh, no. You’ll need to know about it. She heals. Fast!”

“How fast?”

“We put a scalpel to her skin, make a deep incision, and she’s healed it all in seconds. It doesn’t matter where we cut. It all closes up too fast to get anything done.”

“Really? So, what’s that mean?”

“It means the boss man doesn’t get his super soldier, that’s what. She got her nails done, but the rest will have to wait until we can develop a procedure that’ll work on her.”

The guard woman glanced over at the glass. “You might want to get her a bra. She’s tugging at her shirt.”

The suited woman smirked, taking another sip of coffee. “Already ahead of you. Be a dear and get our little darling some breakfast, would you? Then, you should go home and get some rest.”

--------------------------------------------------------

The strangest thing happened last night. Well, this morning, too, but I’ll get to that in a minute. After I lazed through dinner, I sat up on my bed and hugged my legs. I was doing that a lot, now. Just sitting there, I could hear the all-too-familiar hiss of the gas entering the room. For the first time, I noticed that it had a very distinct smell. I couldn’t place it because I’d never smelled anything like it before in my life. Very strange, but that wasn’t the half of it. There’s really no telling how long I sat there, but the sleep didn’t come. It was surreal. There was no head swimming or limp body or even heavy eyes. I didn’t actually fall asleep until I was so tired that my body just gave in. That was weird.

Of course, then I woke up in the morning. I didn’t feel as groggy as I always had. I actually felt refreshed and energized, like sleeping in my own bed with Julia right next to me. It was amazing. Then, I stretched. The strangest sensation gripped me. Well, rather, gripped my chest. Pulling out the neckline, I found a plain white sports bra over top of my new fleshy mounds. They had even changed my panties to a pair of white “boy short” style. At the very least, it was comfortable and my nipples weren’t being rubbed raw by my shirt, anymore.

Breakfast and lunch were already waiting for me. Had I really been out that long? Wow, I must have stayed up really late last night. My stomach growled, telling me it was definitely time to eat something. I feasted hungrily on the meager morsels they fed me.

* * * * * * *

Six more weeks. I could faithfully count the days, now. They stopped trying to gas me. For a couple of weeks, they tried different gasses. I know because I could smell them all. They tried sixteen in total before finally giving up. I smiled a lot. They couldn’t control me, anymore. I could sleep when I wanted, be awake when I wanted, and… well, that was about it. It’s boring as hell in an eight-by-twelve-foot cell, okay?

Cabin fever was really beginning to set in, now that I knew how long I had been there, for sure. I was constantly glancing around at the walls, trying to find weak points in their security. They thought of everything, though. Pity.

On the plus side, everything that was going to change already had. I was shorter than before, but I didn’t know by how much. My hair was raven black and had grown down past my shoulders, now. For some reason, someone saw fit to trim my nails every once in a while. They looked okay, I guess. The “boob fairy” had finally pissed off and my chest was no longer inflating. My hips quit widening and my waist quit shrinking. I could somewhat understand the look. I mean, there was Native American, Sioux, in my family history. So, the black hair could be explained. But, what was with the green eyes? That baffled me. I think my mom had mentioned something about a cousin with green eyes, but I’d never met them. There was hope if I ever got out, though. I could hit up the Goth clubs, again, but this time as some freakish baby-Goth girl. My skin was definitely pale enough, but that was probably because I hadn’t been in the sun in some indeterminable amount of time.

There was a lot of time to reflect on things. Obvious, I know. However, there was a part of me that thought I’d buried certain things about myself from all those years ago. It was buried mostly because it was beaten out of me. My parents didn’t approve, least of which was my father. He said he was going to “pound the fag” out of me. I didn’t know what he was talking about because I liked girls well enough… I also liked their clothes. Before puberty really betrayed the idea, I thought for the longest time that I was going to grow into a woman. Seriously, I did. I could still scream like a girl until well past fourteen. I even kind of looked androgynous until I was nearly sixteen. I didn’t mind. It kept me sane. Then, BAM! The dude witch came hard and fast. I told myself that it was probably meant to be.

Now, look at me. Seeing my face, now, reminds me of a young girl preparing to become a young woman. I certainly wasn’t ready for it. Still, deep down, some part of me actually relished in the changes. My skin was softer, my hair was sleek and shiny, even my nose looked almost like a cute little button, now. My lips were full and somewhat pouty, like Julia’s were. My boobs were huge, but they were kind of nice. My legs could use a shave, though. It wasn’t quite so bad. As a very young child, I’d fantasized about growing up someday, settling down, having a baby, and all that “white picket fence” kind of stuff. Even as an adult, I would privately fantasize about going back into my teen years and doing everything “right” from the word “go”. Now, I guess that was my reality. Well, besides the being in jail part.

As the weeks rolled by, though, dispair set in. I was crying a lot and meekly pounding the cinder block with my fists. It was an exorcise in futility, but it let me vent. After a while, dispair turned into anger and frustration. How long did they really expect to keep me locked up like this?

One faithful day, I was kneeling on my “bed” and pounding angrily on the “mirror” for them to let me out or have some semblance of human interaction. I was going crazy, I think. Still didn’t matter. The more I pounded, the angrier I became. No one answered me, after all. Then, it all changed.

Snickt! “Fucking OW!” The girl’s voice, my voice, screamed. I felt four pains, two on each hand.

I immediately stopped and could see the surprised look on my face. Slowly, my head raised up my arms. There was a little blood dripping down the backs of my hands. Then, my eyes caught sight of my balled fists. Two shiny metal knives, about a foot long, protruded from my hand. One was between my pointer and middle finger; the other was between my ring finger and pinkie. They looked like flat-bladed bread knives, actually, but filed to a point on the end–like long claws, but metal. There was an open wound at the site where they had come out of my hands. I have no idea how long I stared at them in astonishment, but my eyes started to sting from over exposure to the air. Blinking quickly, my hand opened up.

Snickt! “Son of a bitch!” The girl’s voice, my voice, screamed again. The four pains returned.

After flinching, my eyes opened up again and I got another surprise. The blade-claws were gone. The wound they left behind closed up in mere seconds, right before my eyes! Afterward, the only evidence that the wound had even been there was the blood on the backs of my hands. Immediately, I started rubbing my hands at the spot where the things had come out of from my knuckles. There wasn’t even so much as a little bruise. My hands were fine, all things considered. It was exciting and quite frightening at the same time. It gave me an idea.

Turning from the “mirror”, I sat with my legs in a pretzel on my bed, looking down at my hands, and began to flex then relax my hands. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. Several times, I balled my dainty little hands into a fist and then relaxed again. Still nothing. Come hell or high water, I was going to figure this out. So, I tried again and again for what seemed like hours to reproduce the effect. It wasn’t until I heard the little doggy door open and my dinner be dropped off that I hit a revelation. I was startled by the sudden “creak” of the little door and my hands flexed really tight.

Snickt! “Fuck!” I screamed again with my girly voice. The four pains were back.

Looking down at my hands, the blade-claws were back. How were they metal, anyway? I cleared my head of side thoughts and focused on how tightly I had balled my fist. Again, there was a little blood and the wound was there, but the blade-claws were jutting out from it. Confident that I’d taken in how tight my fists were, I released my grip.

Snickt! “Fucking hell!” I screamed. It was probably going to hurt every time, I deduced. Again, the wound healed up in mere seconds. No harm, no foul, right?

As it turns out, with a little bit of practice, I was able to call forth the blade-claws on command. As anticipated, it hurt pretty badly every time they came out. My training with Shifu started to take over. If there was pain, use it. And, I did. The anticipation of the pain alone gave my muscles the wherewithal to clench my fists hard enough to bring the claws out. With a little giggle, I finally hopped off the bed, washed my bloody hands, and settled down to dinner.

One downside to the whole revelation: my dinner was cold.

--------------------------------------------------------

The woman in the skirt suit trudged across the smooth, carpeted floor of an office straight out of the 1940’s. The walls had mahogany wood paneling, there was a marble mantle in the center with a painting above it, Persian rugs adorned the floor, various animal specimens lined the walls, and a large, oak desk was set near the picturesque bay window. A bald man in a pin-stripped navy suit hung up from a cell phone call as she dropped a portfolio on his desk.

“Good morning, Miss…” The man began.

“Stuff it! We have a problem: the kitty has found her claws.” The woman stated in a huff as she planted her hands firmly on her hips.

“Surely, it isn’t as bad as you assume. She was bound to discover them sooner or later. Besides, I’d be hurt if she didn’t appreciate my gift.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Yes, but we anticipated being able to drug her to the point where we could have interaction with her in a safe manner. It was intended to begin the indoctrination. Now, we can’t even gas her to sleep! We’ve tried seventeen different chemical agents to induce sleep in humans and none of them phase her. Worse: you won’t be getting your super soldier. She heals too fast for the procedures to proceed.”

The man nodded. “Well, that is a mouthful, my dear.” He considered the news. “Have you considered brute force?”

The woman stammered. “Brute… f-force? Are you joking? You remember who she was when we brought her in here, don’t you? You’re insane if you think I’m going to sacrifice my staff members’ lives for this.”

The man shook his head. “Please, my dear, it’s been a little more than six months–give or take a few days–since she came to our humble abode. She hasn’t trained and she’s gone through a remarkable transformation since then. I have my doubts that she has what it takes to seriously injure your staff.”

The woman blinked. “Are you nuts? Did you forget about the metal claws you insisted on giving her?!”

The man’s eyes narrowed on the woman harshly. “Just do it or I will find a reason to make you do it. How’s that darling husband of yours, these days? We wouldn’t want any sort of terrible tragedy to befall him, would we?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t!”

The man nodded, not straying his gaze. “Oh, believe me, my dear. I very much would.”

[- To Be Concluded -]
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Comments

force

Sadarsa's picture

Umm.. it wasnt quite clear to me what they were going to attempt to force her to do

if i was a low life scum like him, i'd just have his wife packed away... no need for brute force.

unless he just WANTS an demonstration of her capabilities

--SEPARATOR--

~Your only Limitation is your Imagination~

~Your only Limitation is your Imagination~

Hehehe...

I'll never te-ell! xD

I'm not much of a comic

I'm not much of a comic nerd, but this sounds a bit like Wolverine.

This chapter implies that the metal claws were implanted in her by her captors, but in the end of the last chapter, it seemed like they were growing spontaneously with the beginnings of the transformation.

There's a reason...

Yes, it does sound similar to Wolverine. In Marvel continuity, this is X-23, a clone of Logan (Wolverine, "Weapon X"). So, she has certain attributes similar to his. However, this being a ret-con of that story, there had to be differences. You can find the Wolverine of this continuity in Lilith Langtree's "Ceiling Kitty Is Watching You...". His claws aren't metal, though.

For my version of X-23 (aka "Talon" in the X-men), Lex started manifesting when they were bringing him in because of his concern for his girlfriend's safety. At that point, the claws were bone. At the beginning of this chapter, they are bone when he wakes up from the anesthesia on the table (before promptly being knocked out again). So, started out bone, but had metal graphed onto them. Maybe my hints are a little too subtle? I could try for better.

ah!

Sadarsa's picture

now that you've explained it i DO remember him being out of it and thinking of bone sticking out of his hands

"There was some medical apparatus attached to the places between my index finger/middle finger and ring finger/pinkie finger areas. The same down between my big toe and index toe. It seemed to be some sort of medical clamp, but it was holding the skin open. Initially it looked like there was some kind of bony protrusion coming out from between my knuckles and there was something very red being clamped down around them."

this was all the explanation we got on it... i DO understand that even the main character probablly has no idea how she got her "claws" *shrug* so leaving it vague and telling us when it's explained to the character makes sense to me

--SEPARATOR--

~Your only Limitation is your Imagination~

~Your only Limitation is your Imagination~

Pretty much.

That's it in a nutshell.

The majority of the explanation is that Lex is a metahuman. They possess a meta-gene that manifests itself during times of great stress. It reacts pretty differently for most people. However, the outcome is just about the same: they have "super powers" and now must discover how and why to use them. They could be heroes or they could be villains. It depends on the person.

A lot of this is explained throughout the stories in this universe. Namely, you'll find it under Lilith Langtree and her works "Samplings of the Population" (Ret-Con #1) and "Terra: Between A Rock And... Another Rock" (Ret-Con #2), but also other authors (like myself, EnemyOfFun, Maggie Finson, etc.).

I will go a little more in depth on what this means for Lex in later chapters. Hint: Why do you think Dr. McCoy is mentioned in the Disclaimer? ;)

Oh, yea!

They certainly will. Question is: Do you feel sorry for them? I don't. xD

Not to nit pick.

Not meaning to really nit pick here but your wrong both LL's logan and your char have metal blades if ya re read chap 2 of ceiling kitty is watching you,you'll see after the battle scene in the forest kitty notices logan has 3 metal blades coming from his hand. But so far your story is pretty good I had to look up x-23 as I never got that far into comic's to know who she was.

Standing corrected.

Well, I had to go back and reread that part. They are, in fact, metal. Well, hope she explains how that happened and we don't have to wait 40 years like it took Marvel to explain it. xD

Glad you're liking the story. X-23 always had a special little corner of my heart. She's basically the epitome of everyone assuming that you're something you're really not. Everyone's got a side that the rest of society doesn't know about. She struggles with her individuality and the nature that she is, in fact, a clone of someone. The mental wrestling makes for a good read. I hope this ret-con can live up to that legacy as well as stand on its own.

Not to mention other issues

Like a certain trigger scent that causes all sorts of problems. Speaking of which, I couldn't help but notice the picture at the top. Hinting at things to come?

Admittedly, I've always had a very hard time getting my hands on the actual comic books, so I'm pretty dependent on the Internet or other media for my information. Doesn't stop me from loving her character, however. Anyone who doesn't know who she is should check out X-Men: Evolution, where she made her debut, if they're interested or have free time. The entire series has been put up by MARVEL to be enjoyed for free on YouTube. Or if you don't, tthis video is pretty good demonstration of what she can do. http://m.youtube.com/index?desktop_uri=%2F&gl=US#/watch?v=wK... Avid gamers should recognize where this is from. :)

That guy's an idiot if he thinks he can brute force anything against someone like X23. Six months isn't nearly enough time to make a well trained fighter forget how to fight, especially when said fighter is forever armed abd dangerous. Isn't she going to be surprised when her talons pop out too? On the other hand, she should consider practicing during her endless free time, especially considering how much her body has changed. Relying on old reflexes isn't going to work well with a completely different body, with different height, weight, reach, center of gravity, and how different her hips are.

Looking forward to more.

Um, yea.

Trigger scent is not going to happen. If you're expecting it, I'm sorry to squash your expectations. Considering this is based on the "here and now" real world, we don't have the technology to pull something like that off. Yes, I understand that the sense of smell is the strongest sense tied to memory, but not enough time to hypnotize... and, besides, Lex would be an unwilling participant, so it wouldn't work anyway.

Yea, I've tried finding the books, too. Seems like I need an iPad with the Marvel app just to see the things. *shrug* Also, your link is broken, so I can't prove my "mad skillz" and knowledge base as a gamer. :P (Unless it has something to do with Marvel Ultimate Alliance. I think our girl was in that one, if memory serves me correctly.)

Dude... seriously... get out of my head. I mean it. O.o

Broken? O.o

Bleeh, now I feel stupid. >.<
This one should hopefully work. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKI1ttjHjok
It's actually Marvel vs Capcom 3. I wish she was in Ultimate Alliance. That would would have been awesome. But unless she's one of the DLC characters... well, she certainly isn't in my copy!

I neither expected nor particularly care about the trigger scent. You're right: that would be difficult to pull off with today's tech. Besides, the clone thing is much bigger than the scent to her character, and this rendition doesn't even have that, so who cares? A good story is a good story. And I believe that the point behind the CRU was to tell ORIGINAL tales about familiar characters: retelling the original canon plot only with TG themes is exactly what ISN'T supposed to happen.

Now then, I shall turn my inexplicable mind reading powers to other, more productive uses. Like what my goldfish thinks about the tank water. XD

*Pets* 'Tis okies.

NIIIICE video. Yea, that's why I love this Goth chick. Emotionally, she's very complex, but MAN does she kick a lot of tail! A strong female protagonist character... a girl after my own heart. *swoons*

Anyway... where was I? Right.

I would agree that the clone thing is WAY more central to her character than the scent thing. However, we don't have the tech to do that, either (not to mention, it's probably illegal in most countries). We also agree that taking the canon story and simply adding the TG to it is just lazy. It wouldn't be worth my time to read. *shrug*

The kicker, though: What did you read my mind about? I know, do you? Well, you'll just have to find out when Chapter 3 goes up. ;)

I like you. xD

Logan's claws

I'm pretty sure that Logan's in Ceiling Kitty are bone or bonelike and not metal.

Yep bone.

“Is this… bone?”

“Super dense bone; they’re harder to break than the regular stuff.”
Ceiling Kitty 4/?

Thanks! xD

Oooo... good eyes. I missed that, it seems. I kept seeing "blades" (especially in Part 2) and references to them being metal. Good catch.

Marked Target - Chapter 2

Waiting for her to start thrashing things.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Me too.

You won't have to wait long. ;)

Thanks for this great story,

Thanks for this great story, I hope Julia's alright and Lex manages to escape her captivity before she has to kill with those claws, if it'd have been me I'd have faked falling asleep when the gas came, they would have opened the door not realising she was concious.

Can't wait for more

Lizzie :)

Yule

Bailey's Angel
The Godmother :p

Aww...

You're very welcome. Faking sleep wouldn't really be possible, though. I know, in hindsight, sounds like a great idea. However, Lex is still getting used to this whole thing and has got a lot going on in that brain pan. You'll see what happens.

HUGGZ,

Danielle

Not thinking ahead

It's one thing to discover you can resist being gassed. It's quite another do exhaust the patience of the captors at trying different mixes of it. The tradeoff is Lex knows the smells of the gases, buuut - the captors know he isn't reacting to them anymore.

And, apparently nobody reads the classics. If someone can't be gassed to sleep I will pump the room full of good old carbon dioxide. Let's see them try metabolise that! Admittedly though it's only a short-term measure, but it's useful if you implement shock rods, and restraints immediately afterwards.

Faraway


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Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Au contraire.

Yes, but carbon dioxide has this nasty little habit of causing permanent damage. Now, we know that it likely would not even harm our little friend. However, the doctors don't really know that, for sure. So, they would likely avoid such tactics.

Though, I'll give you one consolation: I hadn't thought of the CO2 idea. Ya got me there. However, it still wouldn't go well. *shrug*

Permanent damage?

I must be a bit rusty in my knowledge. I thought the worst that would happen would be the victim pass out of lack of breathable air, and I would still have several minutes to apply an oxygen mask till permanent damage seeped in. What am I missing?

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
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Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Don't need CO2

Several of the inert gases will displace air quite readily in an enclosed space rendering a person unconscious without causing damage other than asphyxiation (which takes several minutes). Nitrogen is the one I'm most familiar with, having seen the results first-hand. The baddies could suck the air out at one side while pumping nitrogen in the other. As soon as she passes out send a couple of guys in wearing SCOTT Packs who could get her restrained with stronger restraints before she regains consciousness.

* * *

"Girls are like pianos, when they're not upright they're grand!" Benny Hill

Karen J.


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Yes... yes...

Though, boys and girls, we've rendered this point a little moot. Very good points made. I will consider them for future stories if a situation like this arises again. Thanks for the input. It's been quite helpful. :)

Oh?

Change the laws of physics???? If that women is any kind of a doctor she should know something that everybody that's worked in the North Sea oil industry knows. :)

* * *

"Girls are like pianos, when they're not upright they're grand!" Benny Hill

Karen J.


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Huh?

Um... where, exactly, were the laws of physics played with (and/or broken)? If there's any discrepancies, I need to change those. O.o

You said you'd rendered it moot

yet the only thing about gases is that the sleepy gas wouldn't affect her. Nitrogen is not a "sleep gas", it's effect on any creature that needs to breath oxygen is a matter of the laws of physics. So anybody, anything will be knocked out by nitrogen, it displaces oxygen. No O2 to breath and the body shuts down. No lasting effects as long as oxygen is reintroduced within a couple of minutes, plenty of time to dump her on a table and restrain her. Unlike CO2 or even CO, nitrogen isn't poisonous, it doesn't react with the respiratory system. It's an inert gas that happens to be heavier than oxygen. Something like 70-78% of the air we breath at sea level is nitrogen already. I know two people who lost consciousness due to a 100% nitrogen atmosphere. One recovered just fine. The other one recovered but he was an idiot already. He might have actually learned something, if it stuck.*

*I had to testify at the safety board hearing that I personally saw to it that the proper warning signs were posted (in five languages!):

WARNING!
Nitrogen Atmosphere
Authorized Personnel Only
SCBA Required

You'd think he would have figured it out when his cigarette wouldn't light!

* * *

"Girls are like pianos, when they're not upright they're grand!" Benny Hill

Karen J.


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Oh, that?

Yea, what I meant by saying that is gasses that are specifically designed to knock a person unconscious. There are a few out there. Nitrogen and CO2 are naturally-occurring gases that aren't considered "knock out" gasses. They have that effect, but it really isn't their primary use. Besides, by trying all the different chemical compounds, who's to say that they weren't testing her abilities? ;)

Yes, that man is an idiot. Fire needs oxygen to ignite. It breathes, after all. I'd get the hint after the first couple attempts. There again, I can read signs. What a concept. *facepalm*

They were lucky. Anoxia due

They were lucky.

Anoxia due to nitrogen atmosphere in the aft engine compartment of Columbia during preparations for STS-1. Five workers were involved in the incident and three died. John Bjornstad died at the scene. Forrest Cole and Nick Mullon died later from injuries sustained in the incident.

Anoxia; The new Ariane-5 launch area and Ariane-5 cryogenic M1 main stage were undergoing testing. Technicians Luc Celle and Jean-Claude Dhainaut died during an inspection within the umbilical mast of the launchpad. The cause of death was inhalation of air having a very low oxygen content. There was a reduced oxygen content because of a major nitrogen leak in the confined area of the umbilical mast. The nitrogen leak was caused due to a missing drainage plug in a nitrogen/iced water exchanger.

You do have to very careful with those nitrogen atmospheres. It's also quite possible that the cell isn't sealed well enough to replace the Oxygen with Nitrogen or CO2.

The day is coming.

When Lex gets his -- err, her own back, I can see that well enough already. I won't go into other things here since I've never read the comics involved.

But yes, Carbon Dioxide poisoning can and does cause damage, even from short exposure. Lack of oxygen, even for a short time generally causes some brain damage and then to the central nervous system as an attendant side effect. Admittedly, the damage is not all that noticeable following a short exposure and I believe the effects often take time to show. But being oxygen deprived for any length of time is not good for the body at all.

Maggie (Retired nurse)

Oh, oops, still a good story.

M

Um...

When he... I mean, she... gets what back? You kinda lost me there. Yes, there is some foreshadowing, but believe me, you haven't seen half the story. xD

[Yea, CO2 thing has been talked to death. Moving on...]

Thanks for the readership. I'm honored to have you here. :)

HUGGZ,

Danielle

I have to admit

That the fact he used to crossdress and he enjoys being a women now is kind of disappointing. No disrespect for people who really feel that way, but X-23 is known in her comics for being dark and psychologically on edge, I was kinda hoping for a story where the main character could face that, along with the physical violence by finding personal strength. That being said, I do enjoy your writing style; and hope to read more.
"But he that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose."
--Anne Bronte
Efren Rose

Ruh-roh.

Well, I'm sorry to hear you say that. However, considering that there has been mentioned some connection between mindset and the manifesting transformation, it had to be said. Don't worry. There will still be a bit of angst in the character. This is NOT a "happy, cheery" story, by any stretch of the imagination.

Glad you like it. Hope you enjoy further installments. ;)

HUGGZ,

Danielle

On a more positive note,

I am THRILLED to see a story on X-23; she has been a favorite of mine since I watched her debut in X-Men evolution.

"But he that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose."
--Anne Bronte
Efren Rose

Same.

Yea, I saw her in the series, too (which is her official debut). I liked the character and had to gobble up as much info as I possibly could. I've taken some liberties with some characters, but they're mostly all intact. xD

Glad you're enjoying yourself. :)

Snickt! “Fuck!”

That is great.

Cotton mouth sucks. I recently had surgery and coming out of unconsciousness my mouth felt so blechy I slowed my breathing down enough to set off the O2 sensors. A nurse came over and told me to breathe.

Title = WIN!

My personal favorite is one that would probably come out of MY mouth: SNIKT! "Fucking OW!"

Yea, I've had surgery, too. That cotton mouth thing is the worst. That and I don't think there was enough lip balm in the WORLD to help my lips feel some semblance of normalcy afterward. Anesthesia is a fickle thing, no?

Gas or Escape

Don't know why they don't just mist the mouth every once and awhile to counter this. But, I guess the comfort of the patient is not that big a deal. I don't think mist would be enough moisture to cause a choking problem. I thought at first she would do the fake sleep thing, but they likely could detect that she was not really asleep. Not decompressing the room to lower the oxygen level may not have worked for several reasons, (1) her body may adapt somewhat to the lower level, or (2) the room while allowing gas to enter may not be designed to be pressurized/depressurized. I also, thought she might have attacked the mirror with the claws as a area of escape, the door in the next room may not be as well guarded as the one directly outside the door into her room. If it was not designed this way, I doubt they would want to try moving her to another at this point.

Greatly enjoying the story so far and looking forward to the next chapter.

Not telling.

Um, no. Patient comfort was the furthest thing from their minds.

1) Her body probably could adapt, given the healing factor.

2) Nope, room not designed to alter the pressurization at all. The spent a pretty penny on this facility, but not that much.

Anything else, I'll let you mull over those hypotheses and not tell you a thing. You'll have to wait. ;)

HUGGZ,

Danielle

Oh kay....

So she's holed up in something resembling a prison cell, with a one way mirror facing onto female guards on the other side. They were evidently hoping they could train her into some kind of super soldier. Oops. I suppose they may be able to overpower her, given enough force, and start training her, but she'll probably be on the lookout for any possible means of escape.

If it wasn't for that darn one-way mirror, she could have attempted an Andy Dufresne... although in that scenario, hopefully a bit quicker than two decades!

 

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