[identity profile] x-gambit.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] xp_logs

“Cold, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you, Langstrom.” Chester Whelan huddled deeper into his thick jacket. The snowstorms had left Langley covered in a thick bed of snow, and the chill wind racing across it bit deep through jackets and shirts. Whelan longingly thought of his home in Arizona, cursing the call that had put him on a plane east to Washington. He was getting too old to hop across the country just to handhold the Agency’s newest golden boy.

“How was your flight?”

“Long. Uncomfortable.” Chester skewered Langstrom with a glare. “And had better not have been forced on me just to talk about the inflight service.”

“I wish it was.” David said. “Care to take a walk?”

“Worried this place is bugged?”

“It better be.” David smirked. “This is Langley, after all.”

“Fine.” Chester buttoned up his jacket, and both men walked out the doors, on to the sprawling grounds of the home of the CIA. “Have you seen the new numbers on the budget pre-report? Looks like you boys are going to have to cut some corners.”

“Fucking army. That idiot Tenet flushed the better part of our operations budget down the toilet by bailing out the president like that. You’d think he’d would know enough to keep us funded, but they’re turning the screws for all the political juice they can get.”

“It is an election year.”

“Yeah, well the DDO is losing his mind as his directorate is getting whittled down to the fucking bone, and that cocksucker Wolfowitz is demanding even more HUMINT out of the Middle East. The ten imams they shot in Baghdad over Al-Quida links wasn’t enough to sate him. Hell, I still don’t know how they kept that from the press.”

“Calm down, David. There is always money available to the black book programs that prove their worth.” Chester said, watching the younger man flush angrily. In his day, they did their best to control and hide their emotions; act cold and decisively. The Soviets required that kind of discipline. Fucking kids today, he thought.

“Maybe, but people are digging deeper than before, and Ashcroft told us flat out that his office will not cover up the odd leak unless it’s directly connected with the Oval Office. The word is that the CIA can go hang if its dirty laundry comes out in the open. Do you know the kind of money that you can get for some of this info? In an election year in the right hands? Hell, pissed off tech, and the central theme for the debates will be ‘how to shut down the Agency’.”

“Quit acting like such a fucking pussy, David.” Chester smiled, turning to the younger man. “If you don’t have the stones to terminate a leak before they can dump all their information, than you don’t have what it takes to do this job. Since you’ve proved that you are willing to make those decisions, I’m inclined to think that you’re venting. And if you’re venting, then you’re wasting my fucking time. And if you waste my time, I will give you something to piss and moan about. So, why don’t you tell me why I’m here.”

“I just wanted you to understand the environment that we’re working in.”

“I’m retired, David. That doesn’t mean I handed my brain in with my security clearance.”

“Fine. Essex is out of the school. He signed back up with USAMRD a few weeks ago.”

“Really? Did they set him up under the terms we discussed?”

“No. In fact, the brass shut us down completely. I don’t know what kind of value or pull Essex really has, but he got fucking immunity for that school, and his own souped up research centre.”

“They didn’t give him Trikalion?” Chester said, appalled at the idea.

“They tried. He convinced them to let him establish an independent one out on Muir. But he’s got full access into SUPERSOLDIER. Full access and minimal controls on him. It’s a nightmare.”

“Jesus. You are putting agents in place in the research facility.”

“Moore from the Joint Chiefs had a talk with me after Essex was rehired. As Moore put it, if he even hears rumours that the Agency is involved in any way in their labs, he’ll drop enough oversight committees on us that it’ll take a majority vote from the Senate to clear one of us taking a piss.” Langstrom scowled.

“And the school?”

“We can’t touch it. We thought Stryker’s fuck up had given us a bit of pull in the White House on how to handle the mutant problem, but the PR that they got in the disaster relief killed that. Plus, that Tilby cunt’s special on CNN…”

“FOX news is attacking it, but that’s just pro forma. Why the producers didn’t kill the idea, I’ll never know.”

“Well, whatever it is, the Oval Office doesn’t want a direct confrontation with that school, and Essex’ demands drove the final nails in the coffin.”

“Don’t give the Doctor too much credit, David. Did you catch the tidbit about brown and Keating at that grey woman’s memorial service?”

“I heard Keating was banging her.”

“Bullshit. She and Xavier were tight with both senators. Mess with that school, and quite a few people in office will take notice.” Whelan said.

“That’s why I asked you here, Chester.”

“Finally. I had assumed it wasn’t just to jerk me off in the park.”

“That school is a breathing bank of WMDs. We’ve modeled a dozen scenarios around their capabilities. Taking them out could potentially have a greater casualty rate than all US military operations since the first Desert Storm combined.” David pointed out. “It’s like having a nuke in your family room, and the button in the hands of a mental patient.”

“A reasonable analogy.”

“The Agency doesn’t have enough resources to adequately control the situation. We’ve been using that report to pull up profiles of the teachers and students in the school. If it comes down to it, we can strike at their families and friends to get to them. But directly moving against the mutants themselves? Might as well shoot our agents before their leave the building. That’s why I called you, Chester. You spent forty years running deep black operations and programs here. You know all the names and where the resources have been squirreled away. We need to both to get this thing under control.”

“Jesus, David. You’ve seen a few too many Bruickheimer films. Besides, you haven’t even considered your own resources first. And you’ve got several that you could use.” Chester said.

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s always LOSTBOYS.”

“Shit, Chester!” David looked around anxiously. “That name alone is worth twenty years inside.”

“Calm down. Fourteen months ago, you dumped twenty-six former operatives on the streets. I know that you’ve been keeping tabs.”

“Somewhat. Seventeen are still alive, but—“ Langstrom drywashed his hands nervously. “My guess is that after this winter, half of them will be left.”

“Use them now then.”


“Dammit David. We invested billions into that program over fifteen years. Those seventeen agents could turn that school into a morgue and not a single piece of evidence linking them to the government would exist.”

“Chester, they’re not stable. Worse, more than a few people had a vague idea of what was going on when we shut the thing down. We try to restart the program, and one of those investigators is going to put the pieces together.” David said. “Besides, the mental lobotomies were pretty thorough. We’d need months to rehabilitate each one to fully operational status, and that’s if the psyche phrase recall works perfectly.”

“So don’t activate the whole program. Or the teams. Bring back some of the solo operatives. They’re used to working alone. Discharge, Flair--”

“Speaking of marginal… I don’t have the facilities to keep them hidden long enough to get them back to full operational condition without questions. Fuck, if real evidence ever showed up about LOSBOYS…” David stopped.

“So don’t.” Chester said. “All of them are fitted with nano-shielding. We turn that off, and chances are that Xavier will swoop down to ‘rescue’ them into his cult as fast as possible. They can do their rehabilitation at the school. Meanwhile, if it turns out that Xavier is a threat, all we need to do is activate them and watch the place burn.”

“It’s risky. There is no guarantee that the agent will come back from the psychic tampering, and if Xavier starts delving into their head, he’s going to see the mental scar tissue and stitch marks.” Langstrom considered for a moment. “Still, if we did activate one of the Alphas…. It would be hard for Xavier not to try and recruit him.”

“Indeed. Besides, we do have a few exceptional candidates to use.” Chester’s eyes glittered dangerously. “713 is still in New York, correct?”

“Last we checked.”

“He reads alpha. With his training, if we reactivate him, we’ll get the heads of the entire school mailed to us by FedEx.”

“That’s because he’s a fucking psycho.”

“Doesn’t matter. He gets the job done, and the bait is far too sweet for Xavier to ignore. Plus, if I remember correctly, 713 is difficult to read casually, and I know he won’t trust anyone inside his head consciously.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“LOSTBOYS has been buried for over a year. It would take an act of luck to link up 713 to the program, no matter what people’s suspicions might be. He’s powerful, ruthless and was always the most independent. It’s like putting a wolf amoungst the sheep.”

“Xavier has a girl with him that survived the Massacre.”

“Good. I’m sure LeBeau will find it very amusing to fuck her in the asshole before he sends her off to join her family. Stupid mission in the first place. A couple of piss-scared agents build an enclave of mutant bums into a strike force in the eyes of ops, and we follow. Waste of time.”

“We figured you okayed it because you enjoyed it.”

“David, don’t ever try and guess my motives. I’ve been doing this since before your mama let your dad come in her guts. I’ve seen things that would make you eat the barrel of a pistol. Mutants are an asset and a threat. If they follow the instructions of the government, I’ll take all the freaks you can send me. If they feel the need to be activists and vigilantes, I’ll watch them nail the whole species to crosses without shedding a tear.”

“The nano-tech in their systems won’t show up, with it?”

“Not if it’s passive. Unless LeBeau agrees to some pretty intense testing, which is unlikely.”

“What is his real name?”

“Who cares? He’s a tool, David. The best sleeper agent is one that doesn’t know he’s an agent. Give him the commands and we’ll get all the bloodbath you could want in that school.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Are you ready to work in the mines for the glory of Lensherr’s new world order?”

“Not while they still make non-ferrous pistols and ammo.”

“Good. Deactivate 713’s nano-shields then. He’ll be a big bright beacon in Xavier’s New Year’s scans. If they pick him up, we’ll monitor the school for a few months, see if they’re closer to posing a threat to the government. If so, we can make are decision. Who knows? He might end up recruiting for us.”

“Or just fuck everything that moves and kill whatever doesn’t.”

“That sound be the motto for the Agency, David.” Chester said, leaving the man in the snow as he walked back towards his car and the warmth of Arizonia.

Date: 2003-12-18 10:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-shinobi.livejournal.com
Oh, this is going to be fun.

Date: 2003-12-18 10:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-skin.livejournal.com


Date: 2003-12-18 10:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-marrow.livejournal.com
Oh, glee.

All I can say, is bring it on.

Date: 2003-12-19 08:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-psylocke.livejournal.com
You are a glutton for punishment.

You know that, right?

Date: 2003-12-19 09:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-marrow.livejournal.com
I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about.

Only a little.

Date: 2003-12-19 11:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-psylocke.livejournal.com


Date: 2003-12-18 11:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-havok.livejournal.com
I was beginning to wonder when we'd see this journal being used...


Date: 2003-12-18 11:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-tarot.livejournal.com
Note to self: Nightmares about Cajuns.

At this rate, I'll have every ethnic/cultural group on the planet.

Spanish? Check.
Cajun? Check.
StandardAmerican? Check.
Canadian? Not yet, but give Logan time.

Date: 2003-12-18 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-crowdofone.livejournal.com
Discharge, Flair--”

This still cracks me up. Sewickley, Pennsylvania, home to only the finest CIA black-ops assassins.

I missed a joke, didn't I?

Date: 2003-12-19 02:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-empath.livejournal.com
Should those names ring a bell?


Re: I missed a joke, didn't I?

Date: 2003-12-19 02:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-havok.livejournal.com
Just what I was thinking...Definatly missed something there.

Re: I missed a joke, didn't I?

Date: 2003-12-19 04:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-crowdofone.livejournal.com
They're two of Andrew "Shadow" Vincent's sidekicks, from one of the classic X-Men badfics.

Date: 2003-12-18 11:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-foliate.livejournal.com

Date: 2003-12-19 12:55 am (UTC)


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