Notes:  This fic takes place after Sabretooth and Maddie's escape from Weapon X, and during "Mother Goose, Father Gander".  Probably a little after "A Little Bird Told Me".  Who knows.  However, the flashbacks in this fic take place much earlier.  Also not that while Nathaniel Essex is the same as Mr. Sinister in the 616 X-Men, he's neither known as Sinister here, nor does he even look like the goth-vampire-esque 616 version. Picture a tall, black-haired guy with a goatee and haunting eyes.  Oh, and he's a tad younger than his 616 counterpart, but not much. <EG>

Warnings:  Language, desriptions of bad stuff

Min's notes:  Finally, we find out what Essex is up to!

Adenine, cytosine, thymine, and guanine.

The stuff that dreams are made of.

They make up what has become my pet obsession for the last century: DNA.  Deoxyribo nucleic acid.  Sounds like poetry, doesn't it?  Well, it does to me, and that's all that matters.

You heard correctly: "century".  I have been alive since the mid-1800s, with no end in sight.  All thanks to the miracle of genetics technology, which I'd pioneered several decades ahead of those so-called genetic researchers today.  They claim that cracking the human genome is complicated.  I'd mapped and tagged it in its entirety before the Roaring Twenties, with fewer resources than most.  I've used my knowledge of DNA in all its myriad forms (and one would be surprised at the sheer number of  combinations.  Remind me to give you the exact number some time) to make changes to my own genetic code.  I now age at an extremely slow rate, but I can process information as fast as a computer.  I can even project biokinetic energy from my hands and eyes if I wish.  But those are on rare occasions when I'm bored.

My knowledge of genetics also gives me job security.  I have been employed as top researcher in over ten different corporations and government agencies in my lifetime.  Currently, I work for Weapon X, a multinational black ops agency, though I like to think that Weapon X works for me.

I have them wrapped around my finger, you see.  They specialize in using mutants as weapons in all kinds of top-secret scenarios.  They really don't treat said mutants very well, but they've come to rely on my ability to gauge how much potential a given mutant has.  I don't even need a blood sample anymore.  I can just look, and tell.

I just wish Weapon X didn't have such an annoying habit of killing off their mutant operatives, and thus, giving me fewer subjects to play with.

For a while, all we had for mutant recruits were Juggernaut, Rogue, Sabretooth, and Nightcrawler.  But more recently, Weapon X acquired a veritable mutant treasure trove when they captured the X-Men, a group of vigilantes who are quite experienced with their powers.  Idealistic they are, but they make up for that in terms of raw power.  The team consists of Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Iceman, Storm, Beast, Colossus, and Wolverine (who happened to be a former Weapon X agent).

For the short time I had the pleasure of working with the X-Men, I was happier than I'd ever been in my life.  Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Storm, and Iceman provided the best samples of mutant DNA I've ever encountered.  Within their DNA lies the building blocks for the future, because whatever children they sire (especially amongst each other) will be the most powerful humanoids to walk the planet.

While this discovery about Iceman surprised me, I had known about Cyclops and Marvel Girl for a long time.  I met Marvel Girl in her youth as Jean Grey, a precocious preadolescent who was completely unaware of her  telepathic power.  Through a bit of subterfuge, I acquired her DNA samples, enough to make a clone of her.  I simply couldn't grow the clone given my limited resources at the time (I worked as a professor at the University where Jean's father taught).  I monitored Jean's development in secret from then on, to see if she would be able to live up to her potential.  As it turned out, she did in a bizarre fashion years later when she was taken in by a man named Charles Xavier, who formed the X-Men.  Jean's teammate, Scott Summers -- who became Cyclops -- turned out to be her perfect genetic match, while neither of them knew it.

But I did.  By this time, I was employed by Weapon X, and I began setting into motion a plan to bring both Summers and Grey to me.  In the meantime, I was able to use WX resources to grow a Jean Grey clone, who was used as breeding fodder, and was eventually named Madelyne Pyor.

I hate that name.

Once Weapon X captured the X-Men, and Summers and Grey were under my control, I began to have fun.  I wanted to see how perfectly I had created Madelyne, so I coerced Summers into breeding with her, and conceiving offspring.  I cannot wait to see the results.

Bobby Drake, Iceman, has been a different kind of fun altogether.  He's fifteen, naive, but with enough spirit to enjoy experimenting with his powers, and will thus become very powerful by adulthood.  He'll also produce, as I've said, incredibly powerful offspring.

I like scheduling checkups with him as often as possible.  Of course, my interest in him is only partly due to his genetic makeup, but that's another story altogether.

Storm is another interesting subject.  She's is definitely quite attractive, I suppose, but her spirit is what really intrigues me.  It's fun watching Weapon X come up with new ways to attempt to break her spirit.  None have succeeded, though Sabretooth's . . . activities with her have come close.  I should know; I have surveillance footage of the two of them.  It's interesting to watch, and man cannot live by gene-splicing alone.

However, all the grand fun I could possibly have with my genetics work has come to a screeching halt.  Cyclops and his team have escaped Weapon X custody, and the other mutants have also taken that opportunity to liberate themselves.  Nightcrawler has gone with the X-Men, probably because he considers them to be friends for some obscene reason.  Sabretooth and Pryor have fled to Canada.  Rogue and Juggernaut have also gone off together, though their destination is unknown, and their chances of staying free are the most dismal of all.

What, you may ask, is the most galling point of all?  The straw which broke the camel's back?  They managed to take most of Pryor's offspring:  two with Pryor and Sabretooth, and one with Rogue and Juggernaut.  I'd promised Pryor that she could raise the child she carries in her womb, but then I've also promised many things to many people.  I can't be expected to honor that promise, now can I?

At least these X-Men have done me a favor: they've rid me of a nuisance who answers to the name of Colonel John Wraith, Weapon X's commanding officer.  Wolverine finally finished what he started with Wraith's face, and only the other X-Men's intervention prevented him from rending John down to base genetic material.

Pity.  Now the little six-year-old child whom Wraith prizes more than anything in the world despite her missing front teeth, and whom Wraith sings to sleep at every opportunity, no longer has a daddy.  What a shame, especially since any child of Wraith's is bound to be a genetic dead end.  Of course, I could easily add her to my collection one of these days.

I intend to reacquire all of the missing mutants, by any means necessary. I managed to take control of a group of Weapon X soldiers, and we currently soar near the clouds in my own personal airship, which I demanded that Weapon X construct for me.  It even comes with its own genetics lab, so I can continue my studies unabated.

Presently, I look up from my computer monitor, and turn down my stereo as a Weapon X lieutenant enters the lab and tries to get my attention.  "We're at the location," he tells me. I stretch, having spent most of the trip in this chair, and cast a passing gaze at the words taped to the top of the monitor.  Words that have amused me for ages, and remind me not to task myself seriously, lest I turn into a megalomaniac, and we can't have that, now can we?

The soldier sees the words too, and he seems confused by it.  "'Owha Tagoo Siam'?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.  "What's that mean?  What language is that?"

I give it a dismissive shrug.  "It's nothing really.  Just a phrase which gives immense power and self-confidence to all who recite it."

The soldier looks skeptical.  "'Owha Tagoo Siam' . . . . "

I can't help but grin.  "Say it loud, say it proud!"

"Owha Tagoo Siam."

"Louder!  Boost what passes for your morale!"

"Owha Tagoo Si--wait a minute!  That's not funny!"

"Oh, I find it uniquely hysterical," I inform him as I grab my coat and exit the lab.
 
 
 
 

Upon arriving at the cabin, I discover what appears to Madelyne Pryor's body, already being investigated by RECOIL, another agency for which I'd worked prior to Weapon X.  I'd made a deal with them to recover Pryor alive, in exchange for information about my current employers.  She appears to be unconscious, and the agents are havving trouble scanning her.  I thank RECOIL for their assistance, and scoop Pryor up in my arms, to carry her back to the airship.

A RECOIL agent, a pale-skinned woman with a round black mark over her eye, reminds me of the deal I made.  I stop walking and shift Pryor's weight so I can support her in one arm while reaching intot he pocket of my coat.  I produce a computer disk with the word 'DATA' written on it, and hand it to the woman.  "There, that should about cover it.  Have a nice day."  By the time they realize that the disk contains Weapon X's accounting records, and a list of Wraith's favorite pornographic websites, I'll be long gone.

As I run tests on the woman's body, it quickly becomes clear that the body is that of a shapeshifter known as Mystique, certainly not Madelyne Pryor.  The body starts to return to its original blue-skinned form. It was a trick, though I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised.  Weapon X agents are supposed to be resourceful.

I return my gaze from Mystique's body to the monitor, where my favorite phrase lies.  Owha Tagoo Siam.

I chuckle.  Oh, what a goose I am.

Go on to Min's "Hawk and Pheasant"
 

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