Post by mystique on Jul 23, 2006 23:41:51 GMT -5
1981. A Siberian train headed for the Meleshika Center. She'd been Mystique for many years now, but today she was Leni Zauber, looking remarkably like a woman named Raven Darkholme. Fortunately, no one on this train knew that young girl. She tucked her dark hair under her hat, looking every bit the plainly dressed consort of the Commandant. Her legs crossed and recrossed again as she feigned boredom, staring at the snowy landscape flying by.
She'd been working as Leni for three years, and was finally at the zenith. A cache of files on a psy-ops project financed out of Moscow was her target; she had good reason to believe they were preparing to counter mutant intelligencia. Harmless enough in and of itself, unless one took into account where their human ability to replicate mutant powers reach its limit. That would inevitably lead to the capture and exploitation of mutants- something she was not about to allow.
Special Agent Wade Wilson, on the other hand, had no similar motives at all. It would be a year from this day when he’d learn of the cancer that was eating away at his body, and a couple until he’d enter the world of the mutant/human conflict. For now, though, he was simply crawling across the top of this high-speed train in the middle of the blizzard because that’s what his job entailed. He was here to collect a bundle of files on a dark project the Russian’s had cooked up – and something about it put a bug up Uncle Sam’s ass.
The snow blanketed the surroundings with a murderous intent, and he was but a speck in it, moving like a spider along the top of the massive transport. Fortunately his trip was short, and he found the hatch that matched his schematics. A small cutting torch provided just enough power to get him through the bolts, and within seconds, the nearly deafening wind was cut to nothing as he tucked into a storage compartment.
Dry, and much warmer, Wade removed his protective face mask and looked around. He was handsome man, in his mid to late twenties, with gorgeous brown hair and a smile that could stop all but the most vicious of customers. He wasn’t smiling now, though. He was all business.
What he needed was in the next car, and he’d gotten this far without any loss of life. It was a good day, but he couldn’t shake a bad feeling in his gut. Drawing his silenced 9mm, he stepped out of the cargo hold and quietly into a dim hall passage. Down this, and through the door between the trains he went.
He paused between the trains. He knew beyond this door would be bloodshed, as there was no other real way around it. He took a deep breath, and shouldered open the door…
Mystique didn't hear the activity in the next car, the shifting of the train around a corner far too loud to allow even her superior hearing to detect the man headed in her direction. Aside from that her attention was focused on the safe, the knob of which spun back and forth, numbers blurring as Mystique determined the combination. Far before her ability to crack through computer passwords was honed, she'd learned to matrix potential sequences of numbers based on a particular safe's manufacturer and the predilections of its owner.
When the door crumpled and cracked open, letting in a gush of artic air, she quickly disappeared between the safe and the wall, becoming no more than a wisp of dust on the steel floor of the railcar.
Wilson rushed through, low and tight to the ground, silenced pistol trained on… nothing? No guards. No officer. Nothing.
That sinking feeling in his gut was suddenly made of concrete, and he quickly scanned the room for any hints of a trap. He found none. This situation was rapidly growing FUBAR, and he hadn’t the slightest idea as to why.
Regardless of his first instinct, to turn around immediately and get the hell outta Dodge, he knew his mission. He needed the files.
The safe seemed unopened, and everything here looked like what he assumed it would, but still… He passed one more look around the car. Shrugging, he began to place the small amount of explosive putty on the joints of the safe.
He was suddenly feeling very rushed, and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible – he had no time to try and crack the safe. It would be quicker to blow the door off. There were few people alive who could match Wade Wilson at his use of concentrated explosives, and he had all the confidence appropriate to the fact when he applied it. He was positive there would be no unnecessary collateral damage.
Mystique slipped out from her place in one quick step, swiveling a long leg to rack Wade across the back of the head.
It came out of nowhere, and Wade was positive there had been no one there a moment before. None the less, the kick had been real, and he sprawled up half-over the safe, turning just in time to avoid a follow up attack. Stumbling, holding the back of his head, it was all he could do roll back out of the beautiful woman's combat range.
He considered asking her just who in the hell she was, but opted to shoot her instead. His gun disappeared from his hand, her foot smacking it away with liquid grace.
So fast… so inhumanly fast. She had to have been a mutant of some variety.
Wade was a true combat veteran however, and reacted immediately. He launched his own counter-offensive, stepping into her close-melee range with a quick combination of hand strikes. Mystique parried them, matching his speed. The pair circled one another, partners in the oldest dance on Earth.
The agent spun with a low sweep and Mystique flew over it, planting both feet into his chest. He hit the far wall with a meaty smack, and sprung directly off of it back at her.
This wasn't going well for Agent Wilson.
She slid away from his flying side-kick, and slithered around his two follow up kicks. In a blur she stuck him with a pair of spinning back-fists. Wade barely maneuvered around a flashy (yet somehow affective) flipping kick, and countered into a savage throw – sending Mystique smashing into the desk on the far side of the car.
Mystique lay stunned for a moment, pulling in a sharp breath. He was good, very good. Definitely not another flunky. It took her only s second to gather her thoughts, her eyes opening once more.
Sensing the advantage, Wade flew into the desk with a falling axe-kick. It broke under the force, decorating the area with confetti of documents and office supplies… but Mystique wasn't there.
With the thunking sound of a boot on hollow metal, Mystique appeared on his flank, darting in and out with snake-like strikes. Wade had no choice but complete defense, barely parrying and dodging the blows. A reckless uppercut from him backed her off a bit, and the two faced one another from several feet away.
Mystique grinned, her fair skin beautiful against ribbons of black hair. From behind her back the files peeked, curled into the long fingers of her right hand. Before Wade could react, she jumped and grabbed the bar above her head, kicking him square in the face. Using the motion to her advantage, she curled up and through the hatch in the roof of the railcar, still unlatched from when she'd come in.
Wilson shook his head clear, wiping blood away from his nose and lips. Who the hell was this bitch? She had skill to match her uncanny physical attributes. A lot of skill. Wade was never one to let go of a mission, however. It took him only a few seconds to reclaim his pistol, and draw the protective face mask back over his head. Then he leapt up and disappeared through the hatch to pursue the files.
It was very difficult to see in the wind and snow, but the mask’s goggles blocked out most of the problem. He pulled himself up and stalked after her, bracing himself against the momentum of the massive transport train.
With a sudden turn, easily balancing on top of the swiftly moving mass of steel, Mystique pointed her pistol at Wade. She would have had a perfect shot, but knew he did as well.
She let him approach, finger twitching on the trigger. Best to find out who he was working for, before she blew his head open.
"TALK!" She yelled over the howling wind, blinking snow out of her eyes.
Wade knelt on the train, balancing properly considering the difficulty. His gun was aimed at the pretty woman before him, but he had a feeling he’d lose the drop contest. Fortunately, she at least wanted to talk. He thought he’d play the bluff card just in case.
“I just want the documents lady, throw the gun over the side and hand them back and you’re free to go. No reason we need to continue this any further than it needs to go.”
Mountains roared past them, the only things to break the monotony of the frozen waste.
Her silvery laughter broke through the blinding wind. She seemed truly entertained by his demeanor, particularly when she'd gotten in a good percentage more licks than he had.
"Excellent try. Did you learn that tactic at Spies-R-Us? SO smooth. Try telling me who you are."
Wade shrugged. It was worth a shot. There was little more to do now but wait for the inevitable. At least he’d die on his feet… and maybe, just maybe, he’d get his shot off first. In the meantime, he might as well have some conversation.
“The name’s Wilson. Special Agent Wade Wilson. Might I ask to whom I owe the pleasure of the bruised ribs and possibly ruptured spleen?”
Mystique was at a distinct advantage, on her feet and steady whereas the poor human struggled to stay balanced on one knee. She walked a bit closer, stopping only when the train began to screech and rumble around a corner.
"Who do you work for, Wade Wilson?" Already her mind was wrapping around the name, knowing it was an alias, but sure she could find information on the name in any case.
Wilson considered his options, and decided it was best to drag this out as much as possible. Maybe he could find an advantage somewhere.
“I work for- ”
His words were cut short, though at the time he doubted seriously it would be to his advantage. With a screeching wail, the train jerked violently to the left, rounding a corner at a perilous angle. For a brief moment, it seemed as if it would derail and end everyone’s trip on a most unhappy note… but it was back on track almost instantly, and continuing its trip across the tundra.
Granted, it was minus two stowaways. If anyone were clinging on the rooftop of the train, and fully prepared for the turn, they likely would’ve been thrown off anyway, given the snow and ice. People of the skill that Mystique and Wade had would’ve probably had a better chance, were they prepared. As it was, they weren’t.
They disappeared into the dark and snow, thrown clear of the train, and lost in the white.
Wade drug himself to his feet, and felt hot pain lance through his left leg. With a grunt, he flexed it, and thanked God it wasn’t broken. Probably horribly bruised, maybe even sprained, but not broken.
He re-situated his mask and jacket, and found his pistol in the snow – another great piece of luck.
Limping through the snow, he kept his eyes peeled for the other. She still had the files. The snow was blinding, but seemed to be somewhat lessoned already compared to what it was just a few moments before. His only hope was that he could catch her trail if she managed to survive the fall.
A blur of blue caught the corner of his eye, and he turned quickly, gun trained. There was a lump of deep blue in the snow. Maybe a tarp? He inched forward, eyes darting around, looking for a trap…
It was a woman. She was blue skinned, with an orangeish red mat of hair. He considered for a moment that maybe she was blue due to hypothermia, but it wasn’t quite the right color. He took a step closer, and then noticed the files. They were tucked directly behind her, as if they’d fallen in the snow when… when she hit the ground. Hmm. A mutant. A shape-shifter. That would make sense, and probably explain how strong and fast she was when they fought.
Wade snatched the files, and took a few careful steps back. Kneeling, he waited with his pistol trained on her. She was still breathing.
The fall had not knocked her unconscious- the rock she landed on had, however. Mystique lay in the snow, gun tossed in a drift somewhere, out of reach.
It took her a few minutes to wake again, her eyes opening, a brilliant goldenrod colour against her deep blue skin. Without moving, she looked at Wade, narrowing those beautiful eyes at him.
“That’s right, Blue, I’ve got the only gun – and the files. I know you’re good, and you’re fast. But I’ve got the drop on you, and I’m far enough away for you not to kick the gun from my hand this time. Make a move I don’t like, I shoot you. Try to throw that handful of snow in my face, I shoot you. I don’t mind, as I’ll probably need something to eat out here eventually… but I’d rather not kill you just yet.” He said, “So now we talk. You know my name. Who the hell are you? Who do YOU work for?”
Her voice remained the same. The same soft, vaguely german accent.
"My name is Leni Zauber. I work only for myself."
Her eyes travelled up and down his body, taking in his weaponry, or lack thereof. She didn't move a muscle, was a little afraid to as it seemed something might be broken.
"We are both dead, out here in the snow. Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with."
Wade chuckled, and shook his head. “I could list off a number of reasons, but the top two are as follows – and in this order: A) If these are my last few days on the Earth, I’d rather not die bored out of my wits in the middle of fuckville, Russia. B) There may be a possibility for us to survive this particularly nasty situation – if we work together.”
He looked her dead in the golden eyes, his head cocked to the side a small tilt, lips pursed in thought. “Honestly, I’m unsure what all variety of mutant abilities you have, but if you had a skill to survive this, you probably wouldn’t have suggested me dusting you right here. That could be a trap, or not, but I prefer to only think so many steps ahead. I think we can survive this. I don’t want to die here, like this, frozen stiff out here. If we work together, share some body heat, we stand a better chance of surviving.”
Mystique realized he'd taken the files. Well... she'd cooperate if for no other reason than the chances being high she could get the files back and kill this pig in the night.
She nodded. "Let's start by you taking that gun out of my face."
She'd been working as Leni for three years, and was finally at the zenith. A cache of files on a psy-ops project financed out of Moscow was her target; she had good reason to believe they were preparing to counter mutant intelligencia. Harmless enough in and of itself, unless one took into account where their human ability to replicate mutant powers reach its limit. That would inevitably lead to the capture and exploitation of mutants- something she was not about to allow.
Special Agent Wade Wilson, on the other hand, had no similar motives at all. It would be a year from this day when he’d learn of the cancer that was eating away at his body, and a couple until he’d enter the world of the mutant/human conflict. For now, though, he was simply crawling across the top of this high-speed train in the middle of the blizzard because that’s what his job entailed. He was here to collect a bundle of files on a dark project the Russian’s had cooked up – and something about it put a bug up Uncle Sam’s ass.
The snow blanketed the surroundings with a murderous intent, and he was but a speck in it, moving like a spider along the top of the massive transport. Fortunately his trip was short, and he found the hatch that matched his schematics. A small cutting torch provided just enough power to get him through the bolts, and within seconds, the nearly deafening wind was cut to nothing as he tucked into a storage compartment.
Dry, and much warmer, Wade removed his protective face mask and looked around. He was handsome man, in his mid to late twenties, with gorgeous brown hair and a smile that could stop all but the most vicious of customers. He wasn’t smiling now, though. He was all business.
What he needed was in the next car, and he’d gotten this far without any loss of life. It was a good day, but he couldn’t shake a bad feeling in his gut. Drawing his silenced 9mm, he stepped out of the cargo hold and quietly into a dim hall passage. Down this, and through the door between the trains he went.
He paused between the trains. He knew beyond this door would be bloodshed, as there was no other real way around it. He took a deep breath, and shouldered open the door…
Mystique didn't hear the activity in the next car, the shifting of the train around a corner far too loud to allow even her superior hearing to detect the man headed in her direction. Aside from that her attention was focused on the safe, the knob of which spun back and forth, numbers blurring as Mystique determined the combination. Far before her ability to crack through computer passwords was honed, she'd learned to matrix potential sequences of numbers based on a particular safe's manufacturer and the predilections of its owner.
When the door crumpled and cracked open, letting in a gush of artic air, she quickly disappeared between the safe and the wall, becoming no more than a wisp of dust on the steel floor of the railcar.
Wilson rushed through, low and tight to the ground, silenced pistol trained on… nothing? No guards. No officer. Nothing.
That sinking feeling in his gut was suddenly made of concrete, and he quickly scanned the room for any hints of a trap. He found none. This situation was rapidly growing FUBAR, and he hadn’t the slightest idea as to why.
Regardless of his first instinct, to turn around immediately and get the hell outta Dodge, he knew his mission. He needed the files.
The safe seemed unopened, and everything here looked like what he assumed it would, but still… He passed one more look around the car. Shrugging, he began to place the small amount of explosive putty on the joints of the safe.
He was suddenly feeling very rushed, and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible – he had no time to try and crack the safe. It would be quicker to blow the door off. There were few people alive who could match Wade Wilson at his use of concentrated explosives, and he had all the confidence appropriate to the fact when he applied it. He was positive there would be no unnecessary collateral damage.
Mystique slipped out from her place in one quick step, swiveling a long leg to rack Wade across the back of the head.
It came out of nowhere, and Wade was positive there had been no one there a moment before. None the less, the kick had been real, and he sprawled up half-over the safe, turning just in time to avoid a follow up attack. Stumbling, holding the back of his head, it was all he could do roll back out of the beautiful woman's combat range.
He considered asking her just who in the hell she was, but opted to shoot her instead. His gun disappeared from his hand, her foot smacking it away with liquid grace.
So fast… so inhumanly fast. She had to have been a mutant of some variety.
Wade was a true combat veteran however, and reacted immediately. He launched his own counter-offensive, stepping into her close-melee range with a quick combination of hand strikes. Mystique parried them, matching his speed. The pair circled one another, partners in the oldest dance on Earth.
The agent spun with a low sweep and Mystique flew over it, planting both feet into his chest. He hit the far wall with a meaty smack, and sprung directly off of it back at her.
This wasn't going well for Agent Wilson.
She slid away from his flying side-kick, and slithered around his two follow up kicks. In a blur she stuck him with a pair of spinning back-fists. Wade barely maneuvered around a flashy (yet somehow affective) flipping kick, and countered into a savage throw – sending Mystique smashing into the desk on the far side of the car.
Mystique lay stunned for a moment, pulling in a sharp breath. He was good, very good. Definitely not another flunky. It took her only s second to gather her thoughts, her eyes opening once more.
Sensing the advantage, Wade flew into the desk with a falling axe-kick. It broke under the force, decorating the area with confetti of documents and office supplies… but Mystique wasn't there.
With the thunking sound of a boot on hollow metal, Mystique appeared on his flank, darting in and out with snake-like strikes. Wade had no choice but complete defense, barely parrying and dodging the blows. A reckless uppercut from him backed her off a bit, and the two faced one another from several feet away.
Mystique grinned, her fair skin beautiful against ribbons of black hair. From behind her back the files peeked, curled into the long fingers of her right hand. Before Wade could react, she jumped and grabbed the bar above her head, kicking him square in the face. Using the motion to her advantage, she curled up and through the hatch in the roof of the railcar, still unlatched from when she'd come in.
Wilson shook his head clear, wiping blood away from his nose and lips. Who the hell was this bitch? She had skill to match her uncanny physical attributes. A lot of skill. Wade was never one to let go of a mission, however. It took him only a few seconds to reclaim his pistol, and draw the protective face mask back over his head. Then he leapt up and disappeared through the hatch to pursue the files.
It was very difficult to see in the wind and snow, but the mask’s goggles blocked out most of the problem. He pulled himself up and stalked after her, bracing himself against the momentum of the massive transport train.
With a sudden turn, easily balancing on top of the swiftly moving mass of steel, Mystique pointed her pistol at Wade. She would have had a perfect shot, but knew he did as well.
She let him approach, finger twitching on the trigger. Best to find out who he was working for, before she blew his head open.
"TALK!" She yelled over the howling wind, blinking snow out of her eyes.
Wade knelt on the train, balancing properly considering the difficulty. His gun was aimed at the pretty woman before him, but he had a feeling he’d lose the drop contest. Fortunately, she at least wanted to talk. He thought he’d play the bluff card just in case.
“I just want the documents lady, throw the gun over the side and hand them back and you’re free to go. No reason we need to continue this any further than it needs to go.”
Mountains roared past them, the only things to break the monotony of the frozen waste.
Her silvery laughter broke through the blinding wind. She seemed truly entertained by his demeanor, particularly when she'd gotten in a good percentage more licks than he had.
"Excellent try. Did you learn that tactic at Spies-R-Us? SO smooth. Try telling me who you are."
Wade shrugged. It was worth a shot. There was little more to do now but wait for the inevitable. At least he’d die on his feet… and maybe, just maybe, he’d get his shot off first. In the meantime, he might as well have some conversation.
“The name’s Wilson. Special Agent Wade Wilson. Might I ask to whom I owe the pleasure of the bruised ribs and possibly ruptured spleen?”
Mystique was at a distinct advantage, on her feet and steady whereas the poor human struggled to stay balanced on one knee. She walked a bit closer, stopping only when the train began to screech and rumble around a corner.
"Who do you work for, Wade Wilson?" Already her mind was wrapping around the name, knowing it was an alias, but sure she could find information on the name in any case.
Wilson considered his options, and decided it was best to drag this out as much as possible. Maybe he could find an advantage somewhere.
“I work for- ”
His words were cut short, though at the time he doubted seriously it would be to his advantage. With a screeching wail, the train jerked violently to the left, rounding a corner at a perilous angle. For a brief moment, it seemed as if it would derail and end everyone’s trip on a most unhappy note… but it was back on track almost instantly, and continuing its trip across the tundra.
Granted, it was minus two stowaways. If anyone were clinging on the rooftop of the train, and fully prepared for the turn, they likely would’ve been thrown off anyway, given the snow and ice. People of the skill that Mystique and Wade had would’ve probably had a better chance, were they prepared. As it was, they weren’t.
They disappeared into the dark and snow, thrown clear of the train, and lost in the white.
Wade drug himself to his feet, and felt hot pain lance through his left leg. With a grunt, he flexed it, and thanked God it wasn’t broken. Probably horribly bruised, maybe even sprained, but not broken.
He re-situated his mask and jacket, and found his pistol in the snow – another great piece of luck.
Limping through the snow, he kept his eyes peeled for the other. She still had the files. The snow was blinding, but seemed to be somewhat lessoned already compared to what it was just a few moments before. His only hope was that he could catch her trail if she managed to survive the fall.
A blur of blue caught the corner of his eye, and he turned quickly, gun trained. There was a lump of deep blue in the snow. Maybe a tarp? He inched forward, eyes darting around, looking for a trap…
It was a woman. She was blue skinned, with an orangeish red mat of hair. He considered for a moment that maybe she was blue due to hypothermia, but it wasn’t quite the right color. He took a step closer, and then noticed the files. They were tucked directly behind her, as if they’d fallen in the snow when… when she hit the ground. Hmm. A mutant. A shape-shifter. That would make sense, and probably explain how strong and fast she was when they fought.
Wade snatched the files, and took a few careful steps back. Kneeling, he waited with his pistol trained on her. She was still breathing.
The fall had not knocked her unconscious- the rock she landed on had, however. Mystique lay in the snow, gun tossed in a drift somewhere, out of reach.
It took her a few minutes to wake again, her eyes opening, a brilliant goldenrod colour against her deep blue skin. Without moving, she looked at Wade, narrowing those beautiful eyes at him.
“That’s right, Blue, I’ve got the only gun – and the files. I know you’re good, and you’re fast. But I’ve got the drop on you, and I’m far enough away for you not to kick the gun from my hand this time. Make a move I don’t like, I shoot you. Try to throw that handful of snow in my face, I shoot you. I don’t mind, as I’ll probably need something to eat out here eventually… but I’d rather not kill you just yet.” He said, “So now we talk. You know my name. Who the hell are you? Who do YOU work for?”
Her voice remained the same. The same soft, vaguely german accent.
"My name is Leni Zauber. I work only for myself."
Her eyes travelled up and down his body, taking in his weaponry, or lack thereof. She didn't move a muscle, was a little afraid to as it seemed something might be broken.
"We are both dead, out here in the snow. Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with."
Wade chuckled, and shook his head. “I could list off a number of reasons, but the top two are as follows – and in this order: A) If these are my last few days on the Earth, I’d rather not die bored out of my wits in the middle of fuckville, Russia. B) There may be a possibility for us to survive this particularly nasty situation – if we work together.”
He looked her dead in the golden eyes, his head cocked to the side a small tilt, lips pursed in thought. “Honestly, I’m unsure what all variety of mutant abilities you have, but if you had a skill to survive this, you probably wouldn’t have suggested me dusting you right here. That could be a trap, or not, but I prefer to only think so many steps ahead. I think we can survive this. I don’t want to die here, like this, frozen stiff out here. If we work together, share some body heat, we stand a better chance of surviving.”
Mystique realized he'd taken the files. Well... she'd cooperate if for no other reason than the chances being high she could get the files back and kill this pig in the night.
She nodded. "Let's start by you taking that gun out of my face."