Follow Me Until the End of the World: The Weapon - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Sandman
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 12

There is a time, perhaps, in every man's life when he is visited with the opportunity to question the life he has led. To stare into the mirror and to see a different man than the day before, no longer the polished summation of experiences and actions that existed as one's self-image. And sometimes, all a man needs for this unfortunate event to occur, is a catalyst-something to unlock the well-kept knowledge that things are indeed not what they seem.

.

Logan carelessly dropped the fishing pole against the railing of the pier. It had been a pretty useless afternoon. They simply weren't biting. He then tilted his cowboy hat forward to shield his eyes from the onslaught of light pouring from the orange sun on its descent behind the ocean. The reflected sunlight looked like orange, snakelike flames stretching in every directions of the ocean. A gull swooped down and picked a fish out of the water.

From behind, the planks began to creak, sounding someone's approach. He needed only sniff to determine that it was Jean. Internally, he scolded himself for not detecting her sooner.

But he'd be lying to himself if he thought that his faculties were all intact. Not since dropping Creed into a frozen lake. Not since traveling with her.

Jean found a spot next to him and leaned against the rail, seemingly to rest. She panted, having just finished her daily three-mile run. Usually, Storm accompanied her. Logan knew this because he had studied her patterns here in the Buccaneer's Cove well. He did this to avoid her.

"That's one incredible sight," Jean commented about the sunset.

"Same sight as every night," he muttered in response. He produced a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it, hoping that its pungent and crude scent would offend her enough to prompt a quick retreat.

"You'll get lung cancer smoking those," she said playfully.

"Somehow I doubt it. Where's Ororo today?"

"She's visiting the Corsair flagship. I suppose it's the last round of talks before we move on California. I can't believe she convinced them to join us. Their decision just appeared to come so suddenly."

Logan fought to urge the inform her that it wasn't Storm that made it happen.

"Yeah, well, looks like we'll all being to war real soon," he said dismissively.

"You sound detached.like you really don't want a part in this."

He pondered the comment for several seconds, smoking his stogie all the while. "Look, Red, all I'm going up there for is to make good on a promise to an old friend. What she does is entirely up to her."

"Its just that, I figured that.."

"Figured what? That I bought into this crusade?" he interrupted. "Hate to break it too you Red, but me coming up and getting you had nothing to do with you," he paused, taking a drag. "That sonnavabitch Creed fucked me over a while back. Worse than you can probably imagine in that pretty little head of yours." "Don't you patronize me. Let's not compare war stories, okay? Don't forget that I spent two years living day to day, hiding from a fucking army of trained killers in Seattle. You're not the only one that's had a rough time of things."

"You're breaking my heart."

"Fuck you," she said before finally leaving. She gritted her teeth, knowing full well that it must have been his intention to get under her skin the entire time.

.

"So that's what all of this was, just his way of distancing himself from all of us. He could have just left by now. Why the hell is he lingering around? Does he want someone to come begging for his help? The fucking egomaniac. I don't care. Hope that cold-hearted bastard finds what he is looking for. Our roads can't part soon enough," Jean thought to herself as she walked along the shoreline.

Ever since she was young, Jean had been almost perfect at figuring people out. Call it a strong sense of empathy, or just plain old good intuition. She pegged Logan as being one of the good ones-a new world man that would sacrifice everything he had for the greater good. Now she only saw a weak, selfish mercenary that followed his own self-interest. It was funny how some people could hide themselves so well. This part of him seemed to come out only since their arrival here.

Settled now, Jean walked among the breaking waves, allowing the wet sand to mush between the crevices of her toes. Ghost crabs scattered as she approached them. Whenever a wave smacked into her bare feet and ankles, it splashed a geyser of salt water up at her body. She would miss this place a great deal.

As she began to ponder how the former-resort town reminded her of her parent's timeshare in Rhode Island, her mind darted back to Logan. Something that missed her attention the first time.

His eyes.they were different colors. One, his natural color of earthen brown. The other, jade, like oriental finery, bright and sparkling.

She turned her head back towards him. He had slumped over the rail and began pounding his fist against it. .

"I saved the girl.I went back and pulled her out of the water. No you didn't, she drowned because you left her, she died gargling salt water and waiting for you to save her, like you promised.I had no choice, I had no choice," the voices inside his head battled.

Logan's eyes clenched tightly shut as he tried to regain control over his mind, which was no longer his mind alone, as it would seem. His consciousness slipped away, and he was living through a dream (or a memory?). Gasping for air, flailing, before being swallowed by the water. All the while, he waited to be saved, even in the last second before fading to black forever.

Sweat poured out of ever pore on his body. His heart beat to the point of nearly exploding. Finally he stumbled and fell, his head hitting the pier with a thud. His eyes became dazzled. An outline of stars appeared, forming a crooked highway in the sky. And then he saw her face, finally. It was round and innocent, sparkling dull green eyes full of intelligence and hope. She gave him trust, and he hated himself for failing her.

Logan rolled to the edge and vomited off the pier.

.

Three days ago.

Logan waited in the courtyard of the local church, reading the inscription on the bell tower."he died, so that you may live forever". He grunted and sat on a weather-beaten bench. The grass around it was badly overgrown.

His mind had been ill-at ease lately. Ever since arriving here with Jean, it was if the ghosts of his past were pounding away, seeking release. It was becoming progressively worse. It caused him headaches, made him edgy and unpleasant, even to the point of withdrawing from the others. It was all for the better, anyhow. They were all hell-bent on moving forward with Storm's proposed coup de tat against the Hellfire Council. He was afraid that they would try to convince him to join in their attempt. He was even more afraid that he would not be able to say no.

But tonight, he would get his answers to all the questions that had not bothered him until now. Why did he awake in some government facility that was set to self-destruct? What happened after El Salvador? Why did he remember a place called Madripoor? Why did his memories seem to overlap?

There were only three other people that could know any of this-his Weapon X partner, two of which were dead. It was the third and last, Deadpool, that he waited for presently.

Wade Wilson was the newest addition to their little cadre. Joining only after their assignment to East Germany, where they would infiltrate the Iron Curtain. Tall and handsome, eager, efficient, though self-serving and unfocused, Deadpool had idiosyncrasies that made him difficult to tolerate at times. He constantly worried his partner, Maverick, with his limitless love of violence and his usage of humor to understand some of the darker aspects of their line of work. It was Maverick that explained how Wade was the bastard child of two fathers-Victor Creed and Logan, melding elements of either one's personalities into his own. It made him unpredictable, dangerous, but dependable and highly competent.

Logan had his doubts if this was indeed the same Deadpool that he knew years before. These were dispelled when he picked up the man's scent, thick with gun oil and salt water.

He arrived whistling a sea shanty, offering Logan a simple nod of recognition as he walked down the pebble path into the courtyard. He pulled off his black over crimson mask and revealed his face. He had not aged at all (being subject to the same "treatments" as the rest of them). He still had a curly brown smock of hair that fell to his shoulders. It was the same, cold, azure piercing eyes that Logan had remembered. His pursed lips formed into a wry smile.

Wade extended his hand. Logan cautiously reached and took it. Wade shook it firmly before yanking Logan towards him and embracing him like a brother. "You old bastard! I never thought that I'd see you again!"

Logan reciprocated and nodded. "Likewise. I see that you're still full of piss and vinegar, eh?"

"Always. Jesus H. Christ.," he said, beaming a smile, "we got a lot of catching up to do".

"Yeah.about that," Logan started.

Interrupting, Wade said "lets go get a drink. Then maybe you can tell me what happened to you after that little incident in El Salavador." Logan crooked an eyebrow, and then nodded.

They walked together for about a mile to the local watering hole, a pub called Paddy Murphy's, owned by a rough and tumble Irishman. Logan wasn't surprised to find that Wade was treated like royalty there. They found a table in a dimly lit corner and began throwing back glasses of beer before embarking on their respective tales.

"Wade, when was the last time that you saw me?" Logan finally asked, breaking the small talk.

Wade tipped his glass back and emptied it. "The last time that I saw any of you was in South America, during our Contra ops. Well, let me back up, that's not true. That's the last time I saw you and Dave. Last time I saw Vic was in St. Petersburg, which was three years before the three of us, that is you, me, and Maverick, were assigned down south. That was when Vic set us up against the KGB to blow our cover," he said, pouring himself another drink. "Probably would have averted the entire war if it wasn't for that bastard."

"Oh yeah? What were we doing there?" Logan asked.

"Man, they must have really done a number on you. How'd they nab you? Shiva?"

"Just humor me. I don't remember anything".

"Alright then. We were this close to obtaining and altering the launch codes for their arsenal. Someone paid Creed off, though I think there was more behind it than that. At first we thought that it was the Russkies, but it wasn't. It was some guy named Essex. A scientist or something, that even our guys had little intel on. Instead of pursuing him, the higher ups in NATO had better ideas for the Weapon X project. Yeah right. After the mission failed in the U.S.S.R. we were recalled and then reassigned to stop the spread of communism in below our border. We were there for a year and a half before we staged our own deaths and parted ways. You and Maverick headed for some shithole island called Madripoor, which was a smuggler's haven to find Essex and Creed. I stayed in the south and followed, uhh, other commercial interests, which later evolved into the little operation I got going on here."

"The Corsairs?" Logan inquired.

"Yeah, well, that's just what the Southern Cross calls us. We started out with arms and drug smuggling and got pretty fucking rich. You'd never believe."

"The last thing I remember, Wade, is watching Maverick die. We were in a small village and friendly fire came down on us."

Chuckling, Wade sipped his beer. "Yeah, that's how we staged our deaths. We evacuated a village, tipped off the commies where our HQ was, let them come to us, and just let them have it with air support. Only thing was, we weren't there at the time. Fuckin' brilliant plan of yours. I expect that at some point, they learned that you weren't really dead and sent some of their 'interceptors', you remember, the Shiva bots, and found you. Then they fucked with your memory, again, and wiped out everything after El Salvador."

"Yeah. I woke up in one of their facilities, surrounded with the corpses of the other Weapon X participants, sans a few, of course. You, Creed, Maverick.Silverfox".

Quickly changing the subject, Wade asked "What happened to Dave, speaking of Maverick?"

"I dunno. I can only assume that he died before the Shiva drones caught him. Either that or he escaped, fuck, I don't know," Logan said, rubbing his temples as another headache began to set in.

Deadpool nodded, and then ordered another pitcher. "Fuck it, man, it doesn't matter now, anyway. What's done is done. We can only work with tomorrow, you know what I mean?"

Logan stared down at the table, looking over the initials carved into it. "What's on your mind, Wade?"

"Ahh, not much. Just this interesting little proposal I've been chatting with your friend Ms. Munroe about. I want your advice."

"I don't know, Wade. Do whatever you want. I'm not participating either way. I'm heading up to California to find Maria, Dave's girlfriend. Maybe she knows what happened to him. After that, I don't know".

Wade grimaced and looked away. "Sounds pretty short-sighted."

Annoyed, Logan burst out "when did you become such a fucking humanitarian Wade? Or what do you have to gain by the government falling? More power in the area?"

Eyes narrowing, Wade leaned closer to his former partner. "Let me start at the beginning, so maybe you can understand. This fellow, Essex, you spent so much time trying to find.he has affiliations with the Hellfire Council somehow. Yep. He's still alive, doing God knows what. You want to know my motivations? Fine. Once upon a time I became a pirate in this region. I got real rich. Made more money than I could possibly spend in five lifetimes. After the war, I watched as other pirates and raiders preyed on the villages and at some point, I just had enough. I took it upon myself to protect them. Soon, I was getting huge numbers of recruits, and eventually we became a staple to these communities. Trading, providing transportation, delivering mail, you name it. We had a mutual independence, so to speak. That's when I became a fucking humanitarian. I won't allow them to spread their borders down here. And I'm beginning to think that Storm is right. The only way to stop them is destroy them. And I think we have the power to do it. The Southern Cross western command has been summoned north for some reason. The only thing remaining in Sacramento is their militia and Hunter reserves. Logan, I have almost two thousand fighting men ready right now". Logan finished another beer. "You really want my advice? Do what you want. But just remember, we've toppled governments before. Made a career out of it. What comes up in their place isn't always better than what was there before," he said, sliding the empty glass to the end of the table. "I'm calling it a night. It was good seeing you Wade," he said, standing up from the table.

Wade only watched as he walked away. "You're making a mistake, and you know it. This is the right thing to do," he called out to Logan as he walked out the door. .

The Present

Logan wanted to die. The ghosts were fighting so hard to get out. And some of them were liars. Some agreed with the stories that Wade had told. Some did not.

A moment later Jean was hovering above him, cupping her hand behind his neck. He looked up helplessly at her, watching her lips move but unable to comprehend what she was saying. Her eyes were gleaming with concern.

Jean placed each of her hands on the sides of his head, immediately feeling the mental war taking place inside him. "Logan, I'm going to help you. You have to trust me, and let me in," she whispered.

He wanted to resist, fearful that she, of all people, would see into him. He felt her mind pushing into his own and he tensed. Finally he submitted and felt her inside him. His eyes focused on hers and he let her in.

.

Jean was quickly immersed into a mental state of being, walking through his subconscious. There was a thick gray fog and a row of locked doors, screams of agony coming from several. She peaked inside one and saw a scared little boy covered in burses huddled in the corner. Another one housed Creed, the man that had abducted her. There were even several that she could not look into. These were doors that would probably remain shut forever.

She could feel his unrelenting pain. There was so much. Loved ones that were there and then just quickly taken away. And he would always blame himself for not being strong enough to save them.

It seemed to Jean that she was walking forever, catching brief glimpses of different episodes of his life that she could not understand. Faces that she would never know. But she felt his pain, and it was almost too much to bear.

Finally, she heard a voice coming from the hallway. It was female, calling out a name. "Gambit.where did you go?" it said, trailing off. Jean began racing towards it, losing her direction from time to time in the labyrinth of Logan's mind. Her footsteps echoed, but were silent at times.

Upon turning the corner she saw the owner of the voice. It was a vapor- like image. A smallish, Asian teenager garbed in a pale yellow coat and boots that reached up to her scraped-up knees. Her eyes were the same tone of green that she saw in Logan's earlier.

The girl saw Jean and immediately approached her. "Who are you?" she asked frantically.

Jean knelt down and reached out to the girl. "My name is Jean Grey. What is your name?"

"Jubilation Lee. Jubilee for short, and I think that I've lost my way. In fact, I think that I'm caught in a dream. I can't find my partner. He's tall and talks with a French accent. Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't. Jubilee, how did you get here?"

"I don't know. I just come here sometimes. Usually when I'm asleep, but I guess it happens when certain things happen."

"Certain things like what?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Just things that jog a memory, or something. I can't remember much now, anyway".

"If you're not here all the time, where are you?" "I don't know. Heaven maybe? Or hell? I think that I died. My partner, Gambit, keeps talking about getting out of here somehow".

"Jubilee, is he in here too?"

"No. I don't think he can come in here. He didn't know Logan, after all. I'm afraid for him. I think that he is going to die".

"Who, Jubilee? Logan?"

"No. Logan is going insane. He will, unless I can find a way out of here".

The image began to fade. "Jubilee! How can I help you!" Jean called out desperately.

"Find a door, Jean. Logan will know where and when to look. But hurry! Where did you go..Gambit!!!!!! she screamed before disappearing.

.

Under a sympathetic moon, Jean cradled Logan in her arms. He breathed gently, far gone into a deep sleep now. She thought about her surreal encounter with the girl, and worried about her, finding only little solace in her words, "Logan will know where and when to look".

Jean sighed deeply, looking up into the sky and wishing for some divine gesture to show that there was still some hope. Whatever happened in the next few weeks, she would not abandon Logan. He had saved her life.

But it was more than that. She felt some strange connection with him now, after feeling his emotions and seeing through his eyes, things that neither of them could possibly understand.

Jean leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. She felt that the two of them were lost in an angry ocean, powerless against its furious will.

.

Traveling alone had been far less arduous than Wanda had anticipated, and at last, her destination lies ahead. The tiny coastal enclave called Buccaneer's Cove loomed sleepily before her now. Torches and lamps flickered in the near distance, and there was the sound of merry-making coming from what appeared to be a tavern. She would find them all there. The ethereal spirits had promised it. Though they had been known to lie, from time to time.

Death had been riding her shirttail since her departure and betrayal of her Circle, but was always one step behind. She had left the Essex Estate, and it was laid to waste. The body of her beloved brother Pietro lay buried in the dirt, a feeding source for the worms. He died combating that creature that Essex had summoned from the void. The moment his life ended, she felt an incredible pain, followed by a soothing numbness. She traveled with caravans that were constantly plagued by wasteland raiders. Her last stop had been in a small town called Drier's Gultch, where the Rangers that traveled with caravan disbanded. The night after she left, it was razed to the ground. And there was something else, too. Wanda sensed it had been following her for some time since the town. It lurked in the shadows and made quiet, licking noises. There would be days without some much as a hint from it, but she did not fool herself into believing that she had rid herself of the demon. But soon it would be too late. She merely needed to deliver this message, and her death would be insignificant.

It had done something to the pack mule one night. The noises of the beast roused her from a slumber one moonless night. Wanda could not see it, though knew of its presence. She frantically called out incantations to shield herself from the creature. It hissed back in response. The stalemate lasted until sunrise, when the demon was forced to retreat. Ever since, the mule hacked, wheezed and was unable to take water.

It took two final steps and dropped dead. A cloud of dust drifted up as its lifeless carcass fell against the ground.

A howl bellowed out behind her. Wanda ignored her aching joints and dry throat and hastened her pace down a gravel road. There were other dangers out here.

Her speed had dulled her perceptions. So much so, that she did not even notice a man standing in the dark.

"Ho! Stop where ye are and state yer business!" he said, lowering a rifle from his shoulder.

Wanda stopped immediately and nearly panicked, regaining her composure only after realizing that he was a town watchman.

"My name is Wanda Maximoff, I am unarmed," she quickly retorted.

"I can plainly see that you are. Regardless, what is your business here?"

"I am here to see a man. There is danger."

The sentry snorted and then spit. He obviously was not perceiving her as a threat. Then why was he giving her such a hard time? Could it be that the idea of a woman traveling alone in the dark was so foreign to him that aroused his suspicions? "Come now, woman! Ye must give me a name".

Now was a delicate time. If he turned her away now, then it would be hell trying to gain credibility to the imbecile. "Very well. I need to talk with the one called Deadpool." Though she could not see the man, she sensed a swift change in his demeanor.

"That is the right name, Miss Maximoff. Come with me so that I can take you out of the elements and into proper society", he offered politely. The howl rang out again, this time much closer. "There are things that roam around here at night that I'd rather not encounter.

"You have my gratitude, kind sir. I will make sure that your attentiveness shall not go unnoticed".

"Aye. And maybe I'll be so fortunate as to not be assigned the death watch, so yer be!" he grumbled.

The watchman shouldered his rifle and led her to the town. He was sensitive enough not to bother her with small talk. As they drew closer, the sound of crashing waves and the smell of saltwater grew stronger. These sensations made her movements even more laborious. They had been present in the visions. Along with a great montage of faces and voices, all dwarfed by the one-she that lit the world in its darkest hour, and she that could stand against the coming Mad God. She always appeared in the visions in the same manner-no doubt that lunatic Dr. Strounge saw her in the same way, with her flowing dark crimson hair and eyes with a look of blazing righteousness. Her sides lined with the headstones of her comrades. She remained the final, unblemished hope. The mistress of fire..

Though her fate was never quite certain, was it? There were those who sought very hard to turn her to their own twisted purposes. Her far sight had at first seen thousands of possible scenarios. Now there were only two possible paths, and one of them had always been the more certain. A dark figure would often stand behind her, in the place of shadows, the home of this abomination. He whispered to her in his crackling hiss of a voice, commanding her to his depraved bidding. She could forever eclipse the sun. She could serve as the tool of inconceivable destruction and terror of her master, that demon whose name none should ever speak, the one called Apocalypse in the mythos.

That, or she could be the one..the weapon..to strike down into the foul heart of the enemy.

Wanda shivered at the thought of the world resting on the shoulders of this poor, unknowing woman. After tonight she would consult with the ethereal whisperers again, and would be done with the trade finally. It was too likely that Essex would find them here. After all, he had his links into the nether realm.

It was lucky for every bastion of good and hope that Wanda would reach her first.