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Subject: {ASSM} Weapon-X: Cougar 1/? (teen mf slow)
Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2003 23:10:07 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Weapon-X-1.doc" begin>

Author's Note: For those of you that have been to Fanfiction.net
and have seen this story there, no I didn't steal it. I was just
writing under a different name. So please do not write and tell
me I did. With that said, read on.  

Also, this story will not really be erotic until chapter five or
six. This is basically a love\action story. I really hope that
you enjoy. Remember, the more feedback I get, the more I write. 


Weapon-X: Cougar
By Gambit


Chapter One


In the forest behind Xavier's School for the Gifted, the winter
air blew through the trees without remorse or thought. The ground
was liberally covered with white snow, reminding whoever was out
in the weather of the bitter cold. The only one's that seemed to
not mind the cold were the animals that had taken up residence in
the Westchester Forest.

Well, them, and a young lady that went by the name of Rogue.
Well, most people called her Rogue, even Professor Xavior. For
some reason, though, beyond her understanding, Logan always
called her Marie.

Logan. He was part of the reason that she was out in the woods on
this cold day. No. If ah am goin' to be truthful with myself,
Logan is the only reason ah am here, she thought, but it wasn't a
bitter thought. In fact, she had a little half smile on her
beautiful face.

The fact was that Marie still had some of Logan in her head. Even
though this thought made her semi-happy, it also confused her
somewhat. The remnants of Magneto had long ago quieted. But not
Logan. Every once in a while, when she was annoyed, she would let
a small growl out that would do Logan proud, if he knew. She
shuddered to think of how he would react, though.

He was already feeling guilty enough that he was inside her head.
She knew that he would go on a real guilt trip if he knew that
she had some of his . . . Well, some of his less charming
character traits would be an eloquent way to put it.

However, for some reason, she didn't have his fight or flight
instinct. Not all the time, anyway. She was the same old Rogue in
that aspect. She usually would beat up on herself for being a
coward sometimes. In fact, she would always berate herself for
crying so much. Especially at night.

The school had accepted her for what she was, mostly but there
were still those that wouldn't come within ten feet of her, after
they heard about how she usurped Logan's gift temporarily. They
were scared. Rogue could understand that, but it still made her
sad to no end. She had a feeling no, scratch that, she knew that
she couldn't have made it without her best friend Jubilee. The
girl was an absolute jewel, even if she did talk all the time. 

Sometimes it was nice to have Wolverine in her mind. Sometimes.

She had decided a long time ago that she would never tell him
that he had never completely faded from her mind. For one simple
reason. Every time the subject would come up, Logan the bad-ass
Wolverine would get a haunted look of guilt and sorrow just at
the thought of his dark and inconsolable past in her head. So,
Marie tried to avoid the subject as much as possible.

Marie took a seat on a rather large rock, and let out a very
explosive sigh. A frown suddenly marred her face as she
remembered what she was thinking about when she entered the woods
to begin with. She was thinking about Logan, and his undying
stubbornness. 

She knew that she loved Logan; she loved him with all of her
heart. Or at least she thought she did. And not that
brother-sister kind of love that most people thought that she had
going, and the people that didn't think that thought that it was
merely a teenage infatuation that would eventually go away. She
knew that it wouldn't, or at least she thought so.

They were all wrong. It was more of a gut-wrenching-need kind of
love that had brought the young woman near tears more than once.
But, it seemed at every turn, he would look at her as nothing
more than a kid. This frustrated the teenage girl to no end.
Hell, she trained with the X-Men couldn't he see that she was old
enough?

Damn, ah could use a beer, she thought, twirling the white streak
of hair on her head. Then she realized what she just thought and
slapped herself in the forehead, as if that would help the
thought from coming back. 

It was another one of Logan's 'Personality Quirks', as she had
begun to call them. She gave in once when she had a sudden
craving for whiskey. Her friend Jubilee told her that she had
some stashed. Marie drank three-fourths of the bottle . . . And
the next morning she swore off alcohol for good. That and cigars.
But not cigarettes. She was quite fond of her Marlboro Reds, and
had no wish to give them up much to Logan's dismay. He could be
way over-protective sometimes. 

Pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, Marie thought some more.
She thought of a subject that she loved, as well as hated. Ways
to catch the Wolverine's eye. "Ah could wear less clothing . . ."
But nawt with this skin, her thoughts added bitterly. Sometimes
she thought that nobody really understood what it was like not to
be able to touch anybody ever.

That made her more lonely and cold inside than any winter could.

"Enough of this pity-party shit." She knew that her last comment
was most likely one of Logan's thoughts. She found that walks
usually helped a lot when it came to clearing her thoughts, and
when she had to clear her thoughts and Logan's . . . The walks
tended to be a little long.

The young mutant made it about thirty steps before it happened.
She tripped and fell. Sitting back up, she let out a slew of
curse words that would have made a sailor blush. Logan's thoughts
again . . . 

Marie's deep brown eyes scanned the ground that she had been
walking on to see what tripped her. At first she saw nothing.
However, as she gazed closer, she spotted what looked to be a tip
of a boot the snow was covering the rest.

When she got to her feet, she took timid steps as she edged
closer to the object of her curiosity. There just cain't be
nothin' attached to that boot. She tried to console herself. Her
mind was already thinking of a dead body.

Marie slowly knelt down to the boot in question, and stretched
out a hesitant hand, slowly brushing away the snow to reveal more
of the boot. The girl was a little pale when she realized that
there was indeed a leg attached to the boot. A stray thought
wondered how he or she could have gotten so covered in snow while
in the forest. Then her mind told her that it must have fallen
from the trees.

Rogue began to work in earnest and started removing snow as fast
as possible, on the slight chance that whoever was under all the
white, cold snow might still be alive. Something she highly
doubted, but clung to nonetheless.

When she saw the body completely uncovered, she gave a sharp
intake of breath. The boy, that looked to be only a year or two
younger than her, was pale blue. But it was not a natural blue,
like that of Mystique. It was unnatural. The kind that only
prolonged exposure could produce.

His shirt, or what was left of it, looked to be shredded by some
kind of claws and covered with dried blood. Lots of it. Whether
it was his or someone else's, she didn't know. The hair on the
boy's head was a light, light blonde and was matted to his
forehead do to snow and more than a little blood.

He looks so peaceful, came the odd thought.

Rogue was more than sure that the boy was dead and felt more than
a little sad that someone so young would die like this. However,
her sadness was for nothing when she caught the shallow movement
of the boy's chest. 

At first she thought that she imagined it, but when she saw it
again, it set her mind into doing something useful. She
remembered that Jean had somehow set it up so that she could call
her telepathically if she tried hard enough, and wasn't that far
away.

Well, ah think ah betta give it a shot, Marie thought, then
screamed as loud as she could in her mind. <'JEAN!!!!'> 

 ******************

 Two Hours Later


Mason Creed's first thought was: Where the fuck am I?

He made sure to keep his eyes closed as he let his other senses
do the work. Mason really didn't want whoever was walking around
him to know that he was awake just quite yet. In fact, he wanted
to prolong it as long as he could, or at least until he could get
an idea of where the hell he was.

A nose that was so sensitive that it would put a wolf to shame
picked up many things as he lay on his back. It picked up enough
to know that he was in some kind of med lab. It also picked up
perfume. 

Perfume? Must be comin' from whoever is watching me. The muscles
in his face twitched slightly.

His nose and other senses could also pick up the fact that
someone went through the trouble of cleaning him up. He could
feel the cotton of a new pair of sweats on him. The blood he was
drenched in from the forest was gone. He was still shirtless
though, and there were wires hooked up to his chest.

It was all he could do to keep the Animal Within under control.
If he was truthful with his self, he would have admitted that he
was scared. The smell of the lab and the hard table he was laying
on was reminding him way too much of his nightmares, and Mason
had NO intention of reliving those.

He was trying to remember how he got here. The last thing he
remembered was running from one very big, ugly mutant that was
dead set on tearing a pound of flesh from his hide. Although,
why, Mason didn't know. In fact, he couldn't remember anything
from before the forest.

That worried him. Only being able to remember the fight in the
forest, his name and his nightmares was very troubling, to say
the least. He couldn't remember anything else. Well, he would
have rather forgotten about the nightmares.

As Mason laid there, his ears picked up a new sound, that of a
door opening. His noise twitched slightly as he smelled the
newcomer. Whoever he was, (and he could tell the person was a he)
he liked spending a lot of time outside and he liked to smoke
cigars.

Cigars. I'd kill for some nicotine . . . Great, I'm about to
probably be a lab rat and I want a fuckin' cigarette, Mason
thought sarcastically, then he focused his attention on the
conversation that had just started.

"Logan," was how the woman that had been watching him greeted the
newcomer.

Mason was surprised to hear a low growl from the newcomer named
Logan. A growl that sounded almost like his did in the woods.
"'Kid's got tags like mine." The voice was gravelly and more than
a little dangerous.

"That's not all 'The Kid' has that resembles you," the woman
started. Mason noticed that she put the emphasis on the word kid,
like she was trying to protect him, but he just as quickly
dismissed it. It's better not to put any faith in anyone just
yet, he thought darkly as he listened to the woman continue.

"His entire skeleton is covered in adamantium. He also has the
same 'accessories' as you do. His healing factor is just as good
as, or maybe even a little better than yours. I won't know for
sure until the computer finishes running the blood tests." This
only received a grunt in return.

Adamantium? Accessories? Drawing blood?!? Like Hell. Mason's
thoughts were racing. 

Pretty soon it started to build. That feeling inside that took
away all the fear. The only word he could think of that came
close to describing it was 'animalistic'. It would make him see
red, wallow in rage and not think straight. It also made him want
to destroy whatever was in front of him. However, it also put a
damper on his fear. The only time he remembered feeling it was in
the forest, but he was pretty damn sure that he had felt it
before. 

Mason tried to still his mind, but that didn't work. When he felt
the pinprick of pain in his arm, just like in his nightmares . .
.

Logan stood back and watched as Jean (Her name was Red to him)
walked towards the boy with the needle and shivered in revulsion,
remembering the flash backs he had been getting lately. That was
when his sensitive hearing picked something up. The Kid's
heartbeat.

His eyes flashed as he sensed the rage roll off the kid and put
two and two together. He let out a growl and yelled, "Get outta
the way, Red!"

A Snikt! could be heard as all six of the kid's ten inch
adamantium claws popped out quicker than lightning, plunging
right for Jean as he sat straight up. 

Jean would never have made it if Wolverine didn't shove her,
quite hard, straight into the wall with such force that it
knocked her unconscious. He did it on purpose. If the Kid was
anything like him, he wouldn't consider an unconscious woman a
threat.

Unfortunately, it put him right in the path of fire, or claws, if
you will. They cut all the way through his shoulder muscle all
the way to the metal laced bone. With a growl, Logan leaped back
about five feet, hoping the kid would come out of the blind
rage.

It was all the Wolverine could do to keep the animal in check, so
that he could, maybe, get control of the situation. In a mere
matter of a few seconds, Logan sized the kid that was in front of
him up. 

The kid was solid, sinewy muscle. Very well defined. It wasn't
the muscles of a weightlifter; it was functional muscle. The
muscle a well trained soldier might have. And Logan could tell by
the kid's stance that he was no stranger to killing. 

Not to mention the look in the kid's eyes. Logan had seen that
look in himself more times than he cared to remember. However, it
stood out in the kid's bright, bright green eyes all the more.
Logan could swear that those eyes looked damn near supernatural.
He knew for a fact that they looked more like a trapped animal's
eyes than a human's at the moment. 

Logan took a deep breath, starting to regain his temper as he
felt his shoulder start to heal. He also stood stalk-still,
knowing that movement would set the kid off, again. If he was in
the kid's shoes, he knew that he would certainly think he was in
enemy territory.

They stared at each other, like a pair of wild animals, for
almost a full minute.

When Logan started to see a bit of sanity come back into the
kid's eyes, he still stood very still, but he also spoke even if
it was a half growl. But, then again, nobody ever accused me of
being 'nice', Logan thought wryly. 

"Look, kid, I don't know who the hell ya are, but unless yer
ready to go a round with someone a might meaner than you," Snikt!
Logan's claws popped out in all their glory. "You'll put those
damn claws back where they were." The Wolverine had what could
only be described as an evil glint in his eyes when he said it.

Logan could tell the boy knew that he was in trouble, and that he
was in his right mind again, because he watched his eyes become
wary. But the boy still had the ten-inch blades out and his body
tensed even more, awaiting an attack. "Fuck off," the boy growled
out.

If it was anyone but Wolverine, they probably would have run out
of the room at the sound of the kid's voice. It was filled with
murderous intent. "Kid," Logan started, trying to think of a
different tact. Then he thought of one. "We ain't the one's that
put that metal in ya. And we sure as hell don't want ya as a lab
rat. We ain't gonna hurt ya."

The boy seemed to relax slightly at the words, but only
slightly.

Then another thought came to Logan. This one made him smile just
a bit. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't even think it was a
smile, though. "Red said yer a lot like me. You got heightened
senses?"

The kid nodded. Though he didn't know why. He had no reason to
trust this man.

"Then tell me if I'm lyin'." Logan considered that to be one of
his best senses, being able to smell and hear if people were
lying to him. That and being able to tell if a woman liked him in
a sexual way; took the guess work out.

He watched as the kid's nose twitched, albeit very slightly.
Then, with an inaudible sigh, watched as the kid's blades popped
back in. His eyes were still wary though, and he was still very
much on guard. Logan popped his claws back in as well before he
spoke.

"I'm gonna check on Red." It was meant to be a show of faith.
Turning his back on the boy. For some reason he felt that the boy
could be trusted, if he wasn't provoked.

Mason stood as still as an oak. He was also confused and still a
little angry. The anger came from being confused. To top it off,
he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to know
more about Logan. Maybe he can tell me where I can find the
bastards that are in my dream. That'll be a few killings that
I'll be more than happy to do. The thoughts in his head were very
dark, but he meant them. That itself shocked the boy more than a
little he was capable of murder. He knew this to be true, just
like he knew the sky to be blue.

He then looked over to where Logan walked, taking in what he
looked like. Logan wasn't much to look at. He was wearing a pair
of faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt, along with a brown
duster. He was also about Mason's height. But, somehow, Mason
believed the man when he said that he was 'a might meaner' than
he was. 

Mason had no wish to tangle with the man.

Seeing the shredded shoulder of the duster and the one Logan
called "Red", Mason felt more than a little guilty. In fact, he
felt damn near ashamed. He only had the vaguest of ideas of why
he went into a blind rage. He schooled his face into an
expressionless feature and thought; I shouldn't even be allowed
to be around people. I'm nothing but a animal.

With that thought in mind, Mason got a tight rein on his
emotions. He promised himself that he would only answer questions
to be civil, but he would not lose his cool. No, Mason Creed no
longer trusted himself not at all. This was for the simple reason
that he didn't know what he was capable of. Closing himself off
to people seemed to be the only answer. Little did he know that
wouldn't work very long.

"Red? C'mon, Red, wake up," Logan said in his usual gruff manner,
gently tapping the side of Jean's face. Then watched as Jean
slowly came to her senses.

"Jesus, Logan. Why did you push me?"

"Kid was gonna turn ya into a shiskabob," Logan stated in his
usual blunt manner.
Jean looked over at the kid. He was just standing very still.
Though, Jean could see the guilty expression in his eyes. She had
read his surface thoughts when they brought him in. The good news
was that he was safe. The bad news was that he had been through
just as much, or more, than Logan. The weird news was that she
could only read his thoughts if she touched him.

Jean crawled to her feet, albeit a little slowly, giving the
teenager that almost ran her through a warm half smile. "Hello,"
she started, trying to sound as friendly as possible. The kid
looked like he was strung tighter than a bow. "Welcome to
Westchester. My name is Jean."

Mason gave Jean a brief nod, only his eyes saying he was sorry,
but not bothering to give his name in return. His eyes also kept
darting around the lab, nervously.

"I think we should go see Chuck," Logan growled out. Being in the
med-lab always set his nerves on edge. And an edgy Wolverine was
a dangerous Wolverine.

Logan saw the protest in Jean's eyes before she even spoke. "But
I still have a test I nee-"

Logan cut her off, looking over at the boy, or what looked to be
a boy. "Do you want to meet Chuck?" he asked with a glint in his
eyes, already knowing the boy's answer.

"Yeah, I think I do." He caught on quick. He could tell that
Logan didn't like this lab anymore than he did.

On the other hand, Mason was more than a little curious as to who
Chuck was. Maybe he's got some answers, he thought.

Jean knew when she was beat. It was almost funny looking at the
kid and Logan standing side by side. It also looked more than a
little dangerous. She had entered Logan's mind one time, at his
request, and it was an awful lot like that kid's. The kid had
Logan's berserker rage and that could pose as a big problem.
However, she hoped that the school could help the young man. 

If he was a young man. With the adamantium covered skeleton and
healing factor, he could be just as old as Logan; or the
Professor for that matter. Or he could be just as old as he
looked. It was all very confusing to the Doctor.

"Where's my clothes?" the boy asked, bringing Jean out of her
thoughts.

"I threw them away. Your shirt was torn to shreds and your pants
were matted in blood. Not to mention the fact that the boots you
were wearing were blown out on one side from running so much."
This was replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

Mason looked irritated at this.

Jean said something that seemed to spark some interest in him and
wipe the irritated look off his face, though. "You had a few
personal effects, though. Their on the counter over there," Jean
said, pointing to a counter by the far wall of the lab.

Mason took about five brisk steps until he was at the counter. He
was hoping for something that would tell him a little about
himself. What he found disappointed him a little, even if it
would have made any other student at the school jump for joy. 

There were three very thick rolls of money on the counter and
deck of cards. The deck of cards was warn and looked well
shuffled. Just out of curiosity, Mason took off one of the rubber
bands on a money roll they were all one hundred dollar bills.
Three thousand dollars all together in that one roll. He rolled
the bills back up and replaced the band. He then repeated the
process with the other two. What he found out was that he had a
little over eight grand.

Then he spotted something silver looking. Dog tags. Code Name:
Cougar / Ser. 874-35-5587. Cougar sounded familiar, but he didn't
know from where.

Then his mind went back to the money. Where the hell could I get
this kind of money? he thought, his brow furrowing, trying to
remember. However, it was impossible for him to do so. Jean broke
him out of his thoughts with a hopeful voice.

"Maybe your memory will come back later?"

"You're a telepath?" Jean nodded. "Stay the fuck out of my head,
Red," he replied with a growl, using the name Logan called her.
He was beginning to get pissed that he couldn't remember
anything.

Jean didn't seem to be phased by the growl or the gruff attitude.
After all, she had been hanging around Logan an awful lot. She
was getting used to people with bad tempers. "Mason, why don't
you go out into the hall, there is some clothes on a rack there.
You can get you a shirt, some socks and a pair of shoes. I got
them for you when I figured out you had a healing factor. I need
to talk to Logan for a moment," Jean told him in a polite voice,
with a smile.

Mason just gave her a nod and walked out of the room, the door
shutting behind him.

"Damn Red, if you wanted to be alone with me, you could have done
it before now." 

Jean just blushed at his comment. Logan was always flirting with
her, but he never got anywhere. Then her face got serious.
"Logan, there's something you need to know about Mason."

"What's that?" he asked, leaning against a counter.

"His last name's Creed," She watched as Logan's eyes grew as hard
as flint. "But Logan, he has no memory of Victor Creed or anyone
else, for that matter. And it could just be a coincidence. Off
the mental probe I did, it looked to me as if he wasn't violent
unless provoked or under serious stress."

Logan relaxed a little. "I'll be the one to tell him, when the
time comes if Creed is his Pa. When will the tests be done?" he
asked in a gruff tone.

Jean gave him a funny look. Logan usually wasn't one for the
sensitive chats. She wondered what he saw in the boy. Whatever it
was, she thought it was sweet. Then again, she wasn't about to
tell Logan that. He'd have a coronary even if a person tried to
compare him to sweet. "By tomorrow at the latest. The computer is
acting up again. I'm going to have someone to look at it."

Jeans eyes lost focus for about five seconds before she spoke
again. "I just told the professor that the two of you are on your
way."

With a grunt of assent, Logan walked out into the hall, finding
Mason leaning against the far wall. "Ready to see Chuck, kid?"
Mason just shrugged his shoulders and followed Logan down the
hall.


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