Chapter 4: Drastic Measures

"There's been a problem, director."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed at the velvety tones of Dr. Windsor, concealing the nervous ticks off his subordinate. He paused sipping his champagne flute to glance at the doctor. "Oh? And I assume it is a significant development, since you have chosen to bring it to me?"

"...yes, director," Windsor murmured. "The viability of the Weapon is no longer viable."

"What?" Malcolm choked, slamming his drink down hard enough to crack the glass. "After all the money I've poured into it? Have the incursions not proved the ability of the weapon?"

Indeed, he had nearly bankrupted Weapon Plus over the years, forcing onto the weapon several new abilities, a financial state only staved off by the numerous missions the Weapon had been sent on. From extractions to assassinations, the Weapon had built up a fair reputation, small enough not to stand out (yet - the Weapon was not complete, of course) but large enough to have a million dollar price tag. A price tag that had helped fund further enhancements, and the acquisition of possible future abilities.

Since the Weapon's initial excursion, Windsor had focussed on making the Weapon both more durable and more versatile. Successful as the Weapon was, he should never have been struck by something so meagre as a bullet, a bullet which had nearly resulted in severe blood loss, of all things. As such, four additional x-genes had been spliced with the mutant's DNA over the past two years, bringing the biologically eight year old's enhancement count up to nine.

The first had been the X-Gene they had acquired from the Worthington boy, a most peculiar mutation resulting in the growth of large wings completely incapable of flight, yet allowing the mutant to fly nonetheless. After extended testing, the mutation was revealed to have a secondary purpose - the mutant could completely nullify the effect gravity had on his person, thus allowing his impractical wings to achieve lift off. Thankfully, the Weapon had gained this secondary ability along with the razor sharp, raven black wings. It was with some surprise, however, with the additional development found in the Weapon as opposed to the donor - the Weapon's wings rested under his skin, and would tear through his back whenever deployed, the skin healing when the limbs returned. While unexpected, it was most welcome - it would certainly make social stealth easier.

The second X-Gene had come from the X-Man Piotr Rasputin, known as Colossus, and hadn't been anywhere near as much of a success. The X-Man was famous for his ability to mutate his skin into titanium, and was able to hold that state for hours. While the Weapon had adopted this steel-like state, he could summon it only in flashes, leaving the ability as merely a reactionary shield to pull up when threatened.

The third enhancement once more proved the potential of the Weapon, coming from a former employee turned X-Man, Remy LeBeau, better known by his street name, Gambit. The ability to imbue objects with potential energy had proven a great boon on several excursions, including the time when the Weapon successfully escaped the infamous Black Widow with a series of makeshift explosives made from clumps of dirt.

The last was perhaps the most interesting, and that was the X-Gene of one Katherine Pryde, a student of Xavier's institute, whose mutation allowed her to become intangible. Working the ability to pass through strikes and phase through walls into the Weapon's technique had been difficult, but brutally effective - it became a calling card of the Weapon to tear the heart of a victim out from his chest, without breaking the skin.]

Yet, as successful as the enhancements were, the Weapon was incomplete, and the threat of failure at this stage was petrifying for the Director. Even he had superiors to answer to, even if they came in the form of his wallet. And the Canadian government, he supposed, not that he ever listened to them.

"It is not the Weapon's ability that is questionable, Director," Windsor's smarmy voice continued. "Rather… it's lifespan."

"Explain!" Malcolm barked.

Windsor drew up the camera feed of the Weapon's cell, and displayed a sickly looking version of the Weapon, muscles deteriorating slightly, skin pasty.

"What is this?" Malcolm whispered, stomach dropping.

"It seems that the Weapon's native X-Gene is not as strong as we assumed. His DNA has begun to reject the foreign matter, tearing itself to shreds in the process. My estimates place his time of death at about ten months."

"No no no no!" Malcolm muttered. "This cannot be happening. This is my life's work! I'll be ruined!"

"There is always X23," Windsor reminded him.

"Forget X23," Malcolm spat. "The girl was a disappointment from her conception. When we bond her cells with adamantium in two years, then, maybe, just maybe, she may be adequate. But Weapon M? Weapon M is the perfect weapon."

"Fortunately, I do not think that we will have to resort to such measures," Windsor said silkily. "I believe I have a solution. It will be costly, and it may not succeed, but it is all I have."

"Tell me!"

"I propose we splice a new gene into the Weapon's DNA… a special gene, a rare gene, capable of sustaining the host for nigh-on-centuries, always repairing them," Windsor said.

"You don't mean…?" Malcolm whispered.

"Yes, yes I do," Windsor sighed. "Weapon X's."

Malcolm sighed, slumping back. "You are right, it will be costly. And if this should fail, I will lose not just one, but two valuable assets."

"But if you succeed, you will have created the most powerful Weapon to ever exist," Windsor goaded. "Imagine the Weapon as he is… but capable of healing from any injury."

"Yes," Malcolm nodded. "Go ahead. And make sure he survives, or you won't."

"Of course," Windsor smirked. "My life is in your hands."

X

"There has been… an unexpected development."

Malcolm shot to his feet, a pistol aimed at the doctor's head. "I warned you, Windsor."

"What? No, the Weapon survived, and has already recovered!"

Malcolm lowered his gun, looking at the doctor wearily. "Then what is so troublesome?"

Windsor grimaced. "Can I start with the good news first?"

Malcolm nodded. "Do not think you are getting out of this, though."

"Of course not," Windsor smiled. "Well, the operation was a success. Six months, and the Weapon has successfully integrated the gene. His cells now regenerate almost instantly, and anything short of instant death is healed in minutes. Severe injuries may take longer, but still survivable. Like his predecessor, the Weapon now has three claw-like bones nestled within his forearms, and has gained an instinctual ability to use them. Likewise, his senses of hearing and smell have skyrocketed, and will be tested further in the field."

"Good, good," Malcolm hummed. "Now, the bad news."

"There are two pieces of news, one that is definitely bad, and the other that is merely unknown."

"Shall we go with the unknown first?" Malcolm suggested, frowning slightly.

"Yes… remember when we acquired the Weapon, and I reported an anomalous gene, with potential for cosmic manipulation?"

"Yes," Malcolm growled. "And you were unable to activate such abilities."

"Yes, well," Windsor coughed. "Anyway, the process seems to have awakened something within the Weapon, an energy coursing through his cells, an energy that interferes with my readings. I cannot divine its purpose, but I suppose it must be some sort of bio-manipulation, or another restrained enhancement."

"I am failing to see the downside."

"It means that there is an unknown force in play, fuelling one or more abilities that I am both unable to detect or monitor."

"Ah," Malcolm nodded. "Ah well. Can't be helped, I suppose. Now, for the bad news."

"Yes, well," Windsor coughed. "As a silver lining to this storm cloud, the Weapon will now be able to integrate a new X-Gene within seconds, merely from a single injection."

"That is positive news, but stop skirting around the subject."

Windsor winced. "The subject's genetic recovery has had an unwanted side effect. Due to the efficiency of the Weapon's white blood cells, new genetic information is attacked, and purged, taking anywhere between an hour and a day, depending on how similar it is to his own genetics."

"Layman's terms, doctor," Malcolm huffed.

"It seems that… the Weapon will never be able to take on an enhancement again, other than adamantium bonding," Windsor winced. "At least not for long."

"Well then," Malcolm hissed, picking up his pistol. "I suppose that you have outlasted your usefulness, doctor. Congratulations. Most do not."

"Oh, bugger," Windsor groaned. He fell to the ground a moment later, blood pouring from a bullet wound at the centre of his forehead.

"Ah, well," Malcolm sighed as a cleaner pulled the body away. "Tis a shame. You did good work, doctor, and I will put it to good use. But I cannot leave failure unpunished."

INTERLUDE

In a darkened room, miles above sea level in a government building, an imposing looking man reclined in an office chair behind a desk, said desk decorated in all manner of odd knickknacks, many of which not originating on the surface of the planet. The building was, of course, far more than it appeared, serving as the headquarters for the secret intelligence agency of the US, appropriately named SHIELD.

The man who resided in the penthouse of the Triskelion could not be seen as anything other than a fighter. The man's eyepatch alone suggested previous struggles, and his thick trench coat only added to the image. If that wasn't enough, only a fighter wouldn't flinch under the glares his five guests were giving him.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, gentlemen," the man said in his gruff voice. "I know that none of you work for me, but you are… uniquely suited for what I have in mind."

A tall, muscular man grunted, his tattooed skin rippling as he rubbed his animalistic beard. "What's in it for us, Fury?"

Nick Fury levelled the man with a glare. "Payment will be given where it is due, Daken."

A figure with more than a passing resemblance to Daken, albeit slightly shorter and even more animalistic growled. "I ain't ya errand boy, bub. Why'd ya think I'd be interested?"

"Department K is active," he said plainly. "Interested, Logan?"

"Weapon Plus?" the man dubbed Logan hissed. "Damnit. Stryker?"

"No, he is still in the employ of the Red Room," the largest figure in the room rumbled, his shirt pulled tight against his muscles. "Damnit, Fury. I suppose you want this dealt with discretely?"

"Indeed, Cage," Fury nodded. "You are all intimately familiar with the Department. I doubt you want them to continue their experiments?"

"Eh, I don't care," a figure said, wrapped in a red leotard and a ludicrous amount of weaponry. "But I bet ol' Francis will have scrambled back, and that bastard deserves to finally feel pain."

"He is, Wilson," Fury answered. "In fact, he was the first we saw, signalling the repopulation of the facilities. He does not seem to be in charge, however."

"Nah, that'll be Malcolm Calcord, oui?" a purple eyes figure asked, his hair pulled into a quiff by a masked framing his face. "I know he escaped the purge."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, interrupted. "Time out. What's Gambit doing here? He ain't a product of the Weapon Plus program! Why's he here?"

"I was… employed by them, while they were working on Weapon XIV - the Stepford Cuckoos," the man known as Gambit replied softly.

Daken rounded on him, his jagged bone claws bursting out from his knuckles. "The fuck you just say?"

"I was employed as a thief and occasional test subject," Gambit drawled. "I was not aware of their more… dubious experiments. Needless to say, once I found out, I helped the X-Men raid the facility."

"He did, Daken," Logan growled. "I've given the kid the benefit of the doubt. He's a little shit, but he's alright."

"Back on track," Fury growled. "I will give each of you half a million dollars, tax free, if you successfully close down the facility. An extra quarter if it's done quietly. There's also the added bonus of good old fashioned vengeance."

"Now, why didn't you start with that?" Deadpool cried. "To me, my X-Men!"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade," Logan growled. "Come on. We got some bastards to fuck up."

"That's what I just said!"

"He said shut the fuck up, Wade!"