Project X [18+] [Fanfiction]

Chapter III: The Gift

The headmistress had left me waiting again. She did this sort of thing on purpose, I was sure of that. She knew I hated waiting, she knew I hated sitting on that beat up old couch that would transform into something glamorous the second she came close enough to alter its appearance with her telepathy. I sighed as I slouched back into it, and held out one of my arms to eye level. My claws popped from my skin with a small noise, my body trained at this point to recognize the pain of their activation, but not flinch or wince because of it. The adamantium caught the light from above, and for a prolonged moment I let myself watch how it danced off one of the the blades, appreciating it within my bored impatience. I was a weapon. Not only trained; but designed to kill, it was the only intention that had existed during my creation. Blades, reflexes, senses, physique...every part of me had been controlled for the maximum efficiency in my gruesome task.

They had initially wanted another Wolverine. Another brutish, unstoppable presence that they could turn against people for a profit. What they ended up getting was very different, and in many ways better. Despite my affection for Logan, affection I could best describe as daughterly, there were certain areas where he failed and I excelled. He was not a subtle man, and infiltration and assassination simply came more naturally to my slender frame and feminine appearance. Men trusted me past the point of good sense, past the point it was even safe to do so.

Whether I was posing as a crippled child during my youth, or dressed in revealing clothing meant to draw eyes towards my breasts and away from my claws, it was undeniable that many of my targets thought I was harmless, up until the point that I...well, wasn't.

When I became my own woman, free of control and manipulation, I had still failed to fully embrace my newfound humanity. I had scorned things that I did not know about, my friendships were tenuous and my trust was agonizingly slow to build. As I sat there on the headmistress' couch my eyes continued to pass over the small glimmer of my claws as they caught the light, and I pondered the steps that had been taken so far to break me of my reclusive ways.

Shifter was a fellow mutant; and like most of us he understood that we were a part of the world that humans often did not understand or respect. There were those of us that despised humans, and believed that the only time they took an interest in us was when they could use us as weapons against each other...but both Shifter and myself, and all those that lived at the mansion did so under the belief that the world did not have to be so black and white.

My claws slid back into my fist, and I watched as the flesh almost instantly knit back together. It was so quick that not a drop of blood had a chance to escape; my wounds closing and my body adjusting to the feel of the adamantium back inside my hand. I flexed my fingers, and slouched back into the couch, my eyes gazing up at the ceiling in my boredom. I had found myself thinking a lot over the past few days since this arrangement had begun; thinking about the role of mutants in the human world, and if it was ever possible to live past the history of violence between us. I was not sure why the notion continued to enter my mind; but the lives of humans sounded somehow...appealing to me. I could not fully understand why.

"It's because you envy them."

A voice came into the room, and I jerked upright from my seat. I had been so distracted in my thoughts that I had not noticed the couch underneath me turning into a professional leather seat, and I had failed to acknowledge the headmistress' scent. Now that she stood in the doorway, dressed as professionally as possible while still offering up her usual ludicrous amount of cleavage, I was left surprised that my thoughts had been hers for the taking.

"What?" I responded, a brow arching as she looked at me with her usual grace and superiority. Dressed in a tan business suit complete with skirt and nylons, the headmistress walked over to her desk and turned to lean against it. She crossed her legs at the ankles and folded her arms underneath her bust, her eyes piercing me as she stared down with authority and confidence.