Mechanisms of Revenge: Postscript
Jan. 8th, 2009 10:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAll is not as it seems.
The sound wasn't unlike the bell from an old EZ-Bake oven, and Dr Nathaniel Essex made a note to have it changed to something a little less nonsensical. That was the problem with working with the US military. While he had all sorts of access to new technologies, the problem was that once the US Army found something that worked for them, they tended to stick with it, hence the colour patterns at the Pentagon resembling a Howard Johnsons from 1963, and timer alarms manufactured by Hasbro. It could have been worse, he supposed. If the Air Force was involved, it would cost three times as much and play Kenny Loggins or something.
He pushed aside the thoughts as the chamber slid open.
A layer of moisture hissed into steam as one bare foot stepped out onto the tiles, followed by another. Outlined in the cloud of steam, the figure emerged from the sarcophagus-like chamber and walked silently to a small table where a set of simple military surplus fatigues lay. Donning them without a word, he walked over to Essex, then gave a nod of curt acknowledgment.
"It is done, then?" Apocalypse asked. "They believe me dead at the hands of one of their own?"
"According to reports. I believe that was your subordinates responsible for that arrangement." Essex said dismissively. He held up a light and peered into Apocalypse's eyes, flicking it back and forth. "There is no genetic difference between you and the clone, so any possible test that either SHIELD or Muir Island care to run will confirm that it was you killed."
"Which will allow me to rebuild my power base. Manhattan..." Apocalypse ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, frowning. "Manhattan was regrettable, but now I know my enemies. Their limits, their weaknesses. And now for you, Doctor Essex. As per our agreement, you were given the genetic material of my Dark Riders as well as the monster Sabretooth, in exchange for the clone and restoring the strength I lost in my confinement."
It was true - being isolated in SHIELD's custody had left Apocalypse weakened, away from mutants who could strengthen him. Through whatever process the good doctor had performed, however, he felt nearly as strong as he had been before Manhattan.
"Tell me then," Apocalypse continued, eyeing the much smaller man. "Why I should not simply dispose of you, since you are the only one who knows of my continued survival?"
"Oh, threats. How unexpected." Essex said dryly, still checking Apocalypse's vitals, without any apparent reaction to the threat. "The air in my lab is seeded with a virus developed from a rather unfortunate mutation in which the poor child simply transmutated into a cloud of viral bodies which infect via aerosol transmission. I've managed to rather increase the lethality to within 48 hours."
Essex placed his kit back on the table and sat down. "Obviously, I am quite immune and rather enjoy the hint of citrus it leaves in the air. You will leave me with a location that I will send a delivery of the antidote to in twelve hours time."
Apocalypse gritted his teeth, preparing to accuse the scientist of bluffing, but given the extent of Essex's genius and the corresponding nadir of his humanity - a trait that Apocalypse quite respected - the would-be mutant messiah relaxed his posture and took a step backwards.
"Well played, doctor. I shall take my leave, then. Our paths will likely cross again, and I will remember your assistance."
"I can only imagine, Apocalypse." Essex said, tapping a few keys on his computer. "Far be it from me to judge, but forcing your new age does have an essential flaw. You expect mutants to react in the same manner as humans to your message. There's a certain level of irony in that, of course."
He waved towards the exit. "Your brave new world is that way, Apocalypse. Remarkable how much it resembles the old one."
"An interesting conceit, Doctor," Apocalypse said with a nod, opening the door to walk out into the light of day. "There will certainly be a place for you in the new world. What will it be, I wonder?"
"No doubt you hope something sinister. Good day."
The sound wasn't unlike the bell from an old EZ-Bake oven, and Dr Nathaniel Essex made a note to have it changed to something a little less nonsensical. That was the problem with working with the US military. While he had all sorts of access to new technologies, the problem was that once the US Army found something that worked for them, they tended to stick with it, hence the colour patterns at the Pentagon resembling a Howard Johnsons from 1963, and timer alarms manufactured by Hasbro. It could have been worse, he supposed. If the Air Force was involved, it would cost three times as much and play Kenny Loggins or something.
He pushed aside the thoughts as the chamber slid open.
A layer of moisture hissed into steam as one bare foot stepped out onto the tiles, followed by another. Outlined in the cloud of steam, the figure emerged from the sarcophagus-like chamber and walked silently to a small table where a set of simple military surplus fatigues lay. Donning them without a word, he walked over to Essex, then gave a nod of curt acknowledgment.
"It is done, then?" Apocalypse asked. "They believe me dead at the hands of one of their own?"
"According to reports. I believe that was your subordinates responsible for that arrangement." Essex said dismissively. He held up a light and peered into Apocalypse's eyes, flicking it back and forth. "There is no genetic difference between you and the clone, so any possible test that either SHIELD or Muir Island care to run will confirm that it was you killed."
"Which will allow me to rebuild my power base. Manhattan..." Apocalypse ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, frowning. "Manhattan was regrettable, but now I know my enemies. Their limits, their weaknesses. And now for you, Doctor Essex. As per our agreement, you were given the genetic material of my Dark Riders as well as the monster Sabretooth, in exchange for the clone and restoring the strength I lost in my confinement."
It was true - being isolated in SHIELD's custody had left Apocalypse weakened, away from mutants who could strengthen him. Through whatever process the good doctor had performed, however, he felt nearly as strong as he had been before Manhattan.
"Tell me then," Apocalypse continued, eyeing the much smaller man. "Why I should not simply dispose of you, since you are the only one who knows of my continued survival?"
"Oh, threats. How unexpected." Essex said dryly, still checking Apocalypse's vitals, without any apparent reaction to the threat. "The air in my lab is seeded with a virus developed from a rather unfortunate mutation in which the poor child simply transmutated into a cloud of viral bodies which infect via aerosol transmission. I've managed to rather increase the lethality to within 48 hours."
Essex placed his kit back on the table and sat down. "Obviously, I am quite immune and rather enjoy the hint of citrus it leaves in the air. You will leave me with a location that I will send a delivery of the antidote to in twelve hours time."
Apocalypse gritted his teeth, preparing to accuse the scientist of bluffing, but given the extent of Essex's genius and the corresponding nadir of his humanity - a trait that Apocalypse quite respected - the would-be mutant messiah relaxed his posture and took a step backwards.
"Well played, doctor. I shall take my leave, then. Our paths will likely cross again, and I will remember your assistance."
"I can only imagine, Apocalypse." Essex said, tapping a few keys on his computer. "Far be it from me to judge, but forcing your new age does have an essential flaw. You expect mutants to react in the same manner as humans to your message. There's a certain level of irony in that, of course."
He waved towards the exit. "Your brave new world is that way, Apocalypse. Remarkable how much it resembles the old one."
"An interesting conceit, Doctor," Apocalypse said with a nod, opening the door to walk out into the light of day. "There will certainly be a place for you in the new world. What will it be, I wonder?"
"No doubt you hope something sinister. Good day."
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