Chapter Two It has been cold in the primary site. Very cold. Reese complained so
bitterly about it we had to send engineers to try to find the source of the
problem. They found several shorts in the wiring of the secondary systems and
yet could not fix the problem. It was incredibly ridiculous. But in the end
it seemed a blessing in disguise as Genesis, having apparently understood the
problem though of course it is not susceptible to cold, offered to help.
Jordan of course vetoed the idea as Genesis has more important functions, but I
in this one case overrode his veto. Genesis fixed the problem. It reported
that there were some faulty computer chips in the secondary systems and
rerouted power. It's finally warming up again. The mysterious suit didn't
seem at all impressed by Genesis's ingenuity. He simply stared up at the
digital monitor, Genesis teasingly calls its eyes, blew his smoke and said in
his creepy voice. 'How did it know there was a redundant system?' We all
struggled to explain that Genesis was actually doing us a favor, but it was
Genesis itself that surprised us. It actually seemed... well eager to explain
itself to the man. Satisfactorily at that I believe. It has latched onto him.
We are all at a loss to explain why, but it really does seem to regard the
scary bastard with something akin to awe. It probably sees the way we, its
creators, scurry about to please him and is just mimicking its 'parents'
actions. Cute really.
End of Entry
It was nearly startling.
He looked at the mechanical arm, encased in what could pass for living skin
but what was instead something he had cooked up himself. It was perfect.
Perhaps he should have added more hair, he mused. But the covering did not
block the data he was gathering. More important than that though were the
differing sets of data his human arm and his mechanical arm were sending to his
data storage. While both indicated the room was chilly, the human arm made him
want to cover up. It seemed more sensitive, more effective in its data
processing.
More interesting, indeed.
He tested the remote uplinks to various satellites and so-called
supercomputers around the world, which had been implanted along with other
micro-technology and was quite pleased, but not surprised, to find that he
still was linked to the digital world of his birth. He might choose to
disconnect from time to time, to fully experience life in the biological shell,
but that was a decision for later.
"Genesis?"
The sound of her voice was so clear. It was unexpected, like liquid pouring
from a bowl. Not interrupted by bits of digital information. Liquid, that is
what the human voice really sounded like. It was utterly and completely
amazing. Of course that was just an approximation as Krycek's stored data
seemed to relate that liquid sounded different, but there were enough
similarities that he was satisfied with the analogy.
"Genesis?" She said it again, and he just stared.
"It did transfer didn't it?"
That was his father's voice. Smooth too, but slow, as if he cared not one
whit. Genesis was amused to see the effect his father had on other humans. He
had made the fools Bazier and Jordan so nervous too. As if just his voice
alone would mean their death.
Fitting that he was his father.
"It should have," she answered, bending closer to look into the wide green
eyes before her.
Genesis pondered the feel of the metal table he lay supine upon and then
without waiting, sat up. Calling easily on stored data to complete the
movement with grace. He was very pleased to see his father step back warily.
Oh yes, Krycek frightened him.
"Leave us now. All of you," he said in what he hoped was an exact imitation
of his father's dismissive tone.
Jim Taylor was the first out the door quickly followed by the other sheep,
the bumbling Consortium fools. The surgeons who had facilitated the actual
implantation were not present but were already preparing to depart the
mountain. He was dealing with them differently than with the sheep. Quite
differently.
Wisely, his father stayed.
"So, what does it feel like?" His father asked, again sounding bored and
calm. He lit a cigarette and Genesis found his nose wrinkling. The smell
wasn't pleasant. Not truly dangerous to this body but not pleasant. He loved
it. Loved knowing, loved the instant translation from physical to electrical.
"Interesting, Father. More than I expected so far, I must say."
Spender hid his unease, as Krycek spoke. The voice was Krycek's but the
rhythm and the words were Genesis's.
"You will be interested to know, Father, that Krycek is safe and dreaming."
He smiled as his father raised one gray brow. "I had hoped for a more— how
shall I put it— cooperative effort, but I find that he was a bit more unstable
than we realized."
Spender frowned. "We? I knew the bastard had lost it. You might have
been surprised, Genesis, but please don't include me in that."
Genesis chuckled. "Well, then, Father, I was surprised. His control over
his own thoughts were less than adequate. I will monitor his dreams."
"If it pleases you. I for one would just eradicate him."
"Yes, you would. Strange how similar Krycek and I are. Both created by
you and then when deemed too dangerous, cast aside."
"I do what I feel is necessary, Genesis. No more and no less."
"Yes, you do. Quite efficient," Genesis sighed. "I will be leaving now,
Father. I suggest that you do as well."
"And the others?" Spender asked puffing deeply and languidly on his
cigarette, looking about the room as if looking for something to interest his
gaze.
"The surgeons are even now being told, by you I might add," Genesis smiled,
his green eyes twinkling with childish delight, "that they are to proceed to
the southern exit. As for the sheep, I assume I need not tell you what fate
awaits them. I have no further need of them."
Spender shrugged. "I think that is wise. The surgeons might come in handy
should you need anything. Perhaps I should look after them for you."
Genesis grinned. "I thought that too, Father. We are similar, aren't we?"
Spender considered this and then smiled, a shark-like smile. "I suppose we
are."
Genesis stood, looked at his cotton pants and thin T-shirt and black leather
jacket. "I will outfit myself better later. For now, we have twenty minutes
to evacuate. The surgeons have boarded a van driven by one of your men.
Another car will be waiting for you, Father. I suggest you decide to walk more
quickly than usual." As Genesis began to walk out the room he stopped and
turned back. "Should I think of myself as Genesis still, Father? Or Alex?"
Spender laughed, walked toward him and said slyly, "Definitely Alex."
Genesis nodded and resolved to once again rename himself. He made his own
exit even as he was monitoring the demands of the Consortium scientists to be
allowed to exit the corridor in which he had them penned. He began to hum a
tune, enjoying the sound of his new voice as his digital voice assured the
scientists that they would soon be free. He was comparing the sound of his
digital voice to his newly human one even as he began the countdown, the
stilted, mechanical voice cheerfully counting down as the scientists began to
realize they were doomed.
He slid into his own waiting car, watching the one that bore his father
drive off.
"Where to, sir?" the driver questioned. Unaware of the screaming from deep
within the compound.
Alex smiled, still monitoring the frantic pounding on the bullet-resistant
glass which separated the scientists from their imagined freedom.
"Since this facility is about to explode I suggest you first worry about
getting us away from here." At the driver's startled expression, he had to
laugh. "Calm down. This mountain is an iron bitch— is that appropriate to
say?" He frowned, then shrugged. "It would take quite a bit more than what
has been done to bring down the mountain. Of course, nothing of the facility
will survive. In any event, if you drive now and maintain a speed of
seventy-eight mph for the remaining sixteen minutes, we should be perfectly all
right. Of course time is ticking. And I wouldn't want this to be all for
nothing."
The driver needed no more urging. He started the powerful Mercedes engine,
gunned the sleek car toward the paved road, which led away from the main
entrance and quickly set the car at the required speed.
"Poor things, did you really think I would let you leave?" He said over the
countdown, noting as he did that the scientists began to beg and plead with
him. He watched the scenery fly by and the vain attempts at escape
simultaneously and began searching the FBI files for more information on
Alex's— the old and insane Alex that was— weakness.
Soon the explosion came, beautiful in its cleansing fury. Walls of fire and
heat screaming like a living entity through corridor and room alike.
Destroying everything in its path. His vision was being destroyed as well, but
he maintained control long enough to suppress any emergency system to combat
the fire. Until the mountain itself trembled, and he saw only the road ahead
of him.
"Well, at least I didn't slaughter all your firstborns as well," he
chuckled.
The driver struggled to hold the car to road as the mountain shook with
indignant fury, and he was forced to cut speed dramatically to avoid
sling-shotting off the side of the road and into an abyss of pine and darkness.
"Your speed is no longer essential. There will be some residual explosions
but nothing enough to shake this mountain further," Alex assured the cursing
driver. He finished researching Fox William Mulder and began to research his
family. Interesting. Their fathers worked together. Or had. He knew that
Alex-the former and insane Alex— had killed Fox's father, had gleaned that
information from Alex the Former's memories.
Interesting.
Hopping from the FBI central computer and back to the EPA satellite, Alex
dallied in one of the Consortium's databases to research Fox's father.
Impressive a figure as his own father. Well, almost. He hadn't the strength
of his own father, but seemed to have more compassion. A compassionate
murderer.
How wonderful.
The driver and he had interesting conversations once the man had recovered
from his fear of death, and yet even as he learned all the man's likes and
dislikes— and apparently the likes were all big-breasted and blonde— he delved
further into the life of William Mulder and that of his son.
He was certain his own father would be adverse to him seeking out Fox
Mulder, for Fox was something of an enemy to his father. Not a very effective
one, but a thorn in his side for all that. It made him chuckle inside, even as
he nodded seriously as the driver, Jack, warned him about women with green
eyes.
"Take me to the airport, please," he asked finally when Jack stopped talking
to take a breath. "I am going to take a trip."
Jack just nodded before launching into his reasons why a man, who had a
desire to remain a real man, should avoid women with green eyes. Alex
listened with as much concentration as such a limited exchange called for, but
even in this human shell he found it intolerable to do only one thing at a
time. He traveled into the American Airlines reservation and ticketing system,
arranged a first class seat on the next flight to Washington D.C. and began to
look into hotel accommodations befitting his first night on Earth in skin and
bones.
I am certain that Genesis has done nothing wrong. It is that strange man
and his damned secret tests that had Genesis off task yesterday. Sally Trent
was assisting Reese in the newest hot zone assignment. Something BIG. Jordan
wanted Genesis to be allowed to download its information after its return from
wherever the secretive bastard sent it, but He just smoked his cigarette and
refused. We are not to download anything that Genesis brought back. He handed
a CD for Reese to insert into a port for data transfer and though Jordan wanted
to argue, he didn't. Dammit Genesis is our creation! I think though, that
Sally is right-was right, that the hot zone was not on Earth. What is this
bastard into? And the incident with Sally Trent and the malfunctioning steel
doors the night after she confided in me, was not Genesis's fault. She will be
all right. I am sure of it. And besides, why in the hell is Jordan so
convinced that it was no accident? Genesis has never done anything wrong! The
little problem with Jordan's terminal was simply due to water in the wiring.
And he was barely hurt. Not like Sally. End of Entry
It felt good.
No, that wasn't right.
It just felt.
"Hey, buddy you gonna stand there all day?" A man said behind him.
He turned quizzically. Tones were still a mystery. Had it been a polite
question? Alex-the-Former's stored data informed him it hadn't. Of course he
rejected the course of action suggested. Alex-the-Former was far too violent a
creature.
"No. I am not going to stand here all day," he finally replied. "I do
intend to get on a plane which logic would suggest I intend to do, as I am
standing here, outside the departure terminal with no one with me who I may
have been dropping me off. And therefore will, at some point, have to move. Of
course I have no worries of missing my flight." He smiled then, knowing the
burly, red-bearded man could not know why he wasn't worried about missing his
flight. Couldn't know that the plane would not push back from the gangway
without him.
"Well I do have worries of missing my flight, so could you get out of the way!
I need to check my bags."
Alex thought it a reasonable request as he was standing in front of the
curbside check-in. But he felt a little nod to Alex-the-Former was not out of
line so he narrowed his eyes in what he hoped looked like his father's best
stare of intimidation. "Your manners could be worked on."
He knew he had failed to instill any fear when the man finally shoved passed
him with a sound of irritation.
"Save it for someone who cares, buddy," the man scoffed.
Alex didn't like being pushed aside, but it was a novel experience all the
same. A feeling of vertigo-that is what humans called it, a sense of falling
but not actually falling. He smiled even while the stored data of his
hopelessly insane host indicated he should knife the man in the throat. He
stood long enough to see what flight number the rude man was taking before he
himself wandered into the terminal, staring, fascinated, at all the people in
all their variety.
All in a hurry, frantic to not miss their flights. As if there wouldn't be
another and another and another after it. Humans were such odd things. What
made one flight better than another? What made one hour more desirable than
the next? Take the rude man outside, so worried that he would be late and miss
his flight. Already the plane he was destined to take was developing what its
on-board computers were describing as serious mechanical failure and would be
grounded. The man would be hopelessly delayed for several hours.
Alex thought it a subtle hint that the man might take advantage of seeing.
Rudeness was not necessary. Of course it was a testimony to his own evolution
that he hadn't just sent the rude man's plane into earth in a fatal plunge.
Even his hopelessly insane host's data storage had rejected that idea.
Yes, he was evolving nicely. Once he had acquired enough data as human
senses allowed, and he was back in the superior digital and electric realm of
infinite possibilities, he would truly be a god.
The God.
I attended Sally Trent's funeral today. No one else was able to get
away. It is a good thing, I suppose, that she never regained consciousness.
She was horribly mangled by the doors. Taggert informs me that Genesis is
purging unnecessary data again and will be off-line. I still insist that it is
its way of coping with Sally's loss. And Jordan is a fool! He is going over
and over the data on the primary site controls. He insists that there was a
deliberate command— from Genesis no less— to crush Sally in the west wing doors.
I can still remember Sally when she toasted to our accomplishments in creating
an Artificial Intelligence. We were all so proud that day.
End of Entry
The apartment was definitely clean. So clean he expected the Pinesol woman
to come from his bedroom, holding her bouquet of flowers as she leaped madly
about proclaiming it clean. Those commercials had always made him chuckle, now
the thought merely depressed him.
What was he doing with an apartment this clean? Why did he find it
necessary to be active every minute he allowed himself to be home? His floor
shone, his poor old leather couch virtually cringed away in fear from any more
scrubbing, his bathroom, his bedroom, and even kitchen were spotless.
He couldn't stay here any longer he resolved. He would certainly find some
other filthy nook or bacteria ridden cranny to scour if he stayed longer.
Of course he knew it was just an excuse. An excuse to go out and continue
his SEARCH. The SEARCH was always capitalized in his mind. The SEARCH for
Krycek. God it even sounded like a movie. He didn't want to want to look, but
if he stayed he would begin channeling some Stepford wife again.
With a curse he picked up his long, black coat and slid it on, even as he
stepped out the door. "I will just take a long walk," he promised himself and
the empty hall. "No looking for the bastard. Who is as I've said, dead and
buried and good riddance I have also said."
He knew talking aloud was just another sign that he needed help. Of course
if one stripped away his Susie Homemaker urges, and his nightly prowl through
the seedier parts of town, his sleepless nights of obsessive arguments with
himself, he would still need help.
Because he wanted a sick, twisted bastard.
And there was no denying it anymore.
But God how he wanted to.
To even go in search of Alex Krycek was bad enough, but what he wanted to do
was worse. He had synthesized his mad obsession down to one moment in time— no
perhaps more a delicate series of moments in which Alex had become something
feral out of something tame. From those earliest moments in which Alex had
first come to him. So earnest, so determined, so sweetly beautiful. Those few
days of being hounded and shadowed by Alex had been the beginning. And if it
were only that memory that haunted him he could attribute his obsession with
that of Alex's fall from grace. That eternal plummet of an angel into
darkness. But it was the darkness that intrigued him.
Pulled at him.
And yet too, it was that very fall that caused Krycek to be so fascinating.
How could he be the same man as the two, disparate creatures wearing the same
beautiful smile? Could that young, goofy man have really existed? Had it been
a sham? If it had been, Krycek was a hell of an actor.
He despised men like Krycek. It wasn't a delusion to say that he hated
Krycek and what he stood for. He truly did, and yet he looked for him even as
he told himself he was only walking to clear his head. He refused to even
anticipate what the bastard might have to say should he find him. He would
only want to know the answer to one question.
When?
When had the fall taken place? Had it been, as he thought, after those
first meetings? Had he been pulled aside and taken under the wings of men like
Spender? The thought consumed him. Perhaps even that was an excuse. Maybe he
just wanted to think of Krycek as being despoiled by conspiracy, trapped by it
as was Mulder himself. Think of Krycek as a victim so he could redeem him.
And then be free to touch him— taste him...
He ran a hand through his too long hair and closed his eyes. His work was
going to hell. Scully was covering his ass more often than even she cared to
do, on the job and to Skinner. She was past the point of worry and into
full-blown anxiety. Miami had been a nice distraction but he hadn't been able
to stay as long as intended. Too southern, too hot, too something. He could
sense Skinner losing patience even though Scully had functioned well enough for
both of them on their cases. He knew that he would have to request time off,
not for Skinner's sake or his own, but because he was becoming a liability to
Scully. And he would not endanger her.
Their last case, what was it, two days ago, had been interesting enough but
his inability to focus had nearly gotten Scully hacked into pieces by a group
who worshipped trees, worshipped them enough to kill anyone intending to murder
the trees they worshipped. Modern day Druids who turned out to be mediocre
college students with nothing more important in their lives.
Simple, cut and dried and yet still she had nearly been killed. All because
instead of concentrating on the statement taken from She'Nai, the ringleader of
the bunch, he had been thinking of showering with Krycek, of sliding down to
his knees and taking Alex's cock in his mouth. It had been another agent,
green from the academy and newly assigned to the Sacramento field office who
had brought She'Nai's conflicting answers on telling points of interest in her
statement to Mulder's attention.
"Time off, to cool off," he mused. He nodded. He would tell Scully in the
morning and then tell Skinner. They would both be relieved. He smiled a bit.
At least Scully would pretend to be shocked all the while she packed up his
coat and briefcase and ushered him to his car.
He fell into an easy gait, more relaxed now that he had made the decision to
take some personal time. He saw the man coming toward him and was clear enough
to appreciate the sight. Handsome, mid-thirties, well dressed, walking with
decided distraction as he looked into the small grocery bag he held. Mulder
wasn't even slightly uncomfortable with admiring this man. He only wished it
were a man like this, obviously hurrying home after work, with the only next
intention being to consume whatever so interested him in his bag of goodies.
The full lips were moving a bit as if he were keeping beat to some internal
song and when his eyes raised to Mulder's they were a sinful blue color.
Scully's blue. Beautiful and compelling. They widened a bit as they met
Mulder's and Mulder thought to be polite and look away. But the man smiled at
him and his own gaze traveled over Mulder's face with equal appreciation.
"Hello," he said. And his voice was just as attractive as his face and
body. He slowed to a stop in front of Mulder, and his eyes spoke more than his
innocent, friendly greeting.
Mulder smiled back but simply nodded. He wasn't the one. Couldn't be until
Mulder had his head taken apart and examined for black oil. The man had a
gym-toned body, but no animal grace. He had lovely eyes, but they were the
wrong shade. His lips were lush but they didn't curl both prettily and curtly.
His hair was too light. His lashes not sinful. He wasn't dangerous and
exciting. He was just a young man coming home from work. He passed the man
with a regretful smile and saw him shrug as if to say, 'well I tried' and
continue on with his groceries.
"Damn you Alex Krycek," he hissed. "He was there, gorgeous and available,
and I could have— never mind, you'll see," he threatened uselessly. He stopped
abruptly when he realized where his casual, clear-his-head walk was taking him.
Down toward a cluster of bars closer to Springfield where he had often begun
the SEARCH. He shook his head and clenched his fists. Not tonight. He
wouldn't do it. If he had to go back and clean out his closets he would. But
no more Alex tonight.
There is a little problem. I say little but I think that is just me
trying to deny what is happening. Taggert suggested that Jim Taylor and Kate
Marchamb should try to take up where Sally Trent left off. There are only
three of us original project leaders left and we need to fill Sally's position.
Of course we have so many working with us, but Sally's work with problem
resolution and programming were so integral to Genesis's initial development.
But who is Taggert kidding? Tag Stippan is right, why are we still trying to
teach it? I think it knows more than we do sometimes. I assigned Mark Bison
to data retrieval from Genesis's multiple data purges. I am not sure, but I
think there may be something to them. I have instructed him to be careful.
Paranoid as I may sound, I feel like Genesis is watching. And I feel like an
idiot for blaming it for the tense atmosphere around here. But maybe it has
dumped something integral-something that might cause it to have a few-glitches.
Jordan hasn't been seen for several hours now. He was still working on some
wild idea of generators and the redundant system. Or some nonsense.
Generators! At a time like this. He needs sleep more than the rest of us do.
End of Entry
Cyber money was wonderful, but it wouldn't get him a cab and he didn't want
to involve the Consortium thugs any more. So he had had to arrange for a
rental car, fully pre-paid of course as had been his airline ticket, and study
all the stored data of Alex the Insane's in order to prepare for his first
driving experience. It shouldn't be complicated. Humans managed to do it
fairly well. He would too.
He was happier with this experiment than even he had imagined. Alex was
indeed attractive to men and women both. Of course Alex the Former hadn't
cared about women, but they did care about him. The male attendants on the
plane had been more than polite, had even hinted at more services beyond the
food and drink they provided. But the experience of the food and drink were so
intensely wonderful that Alex wasn't interested in their offer. Besides he ran
comparisons of what was considered attractive and the attendants did not
measure up. He intended to do things right.
Earlier on the plane, Alex the Former would have ordered beer so Alex had
too. In fact he ordered everything that was pleasing to the host body and
found that food was so delightful that he had even asked for more. The sweets,
though, were by far the best part. Strawberries in chocolate in cream were a
concoction that defied even his own data storage to understand. The sweetness
made him moan in pleasure and that reaction caused him to pause for a few
seconds to determine its cause. Many reactions stored in his host data storage
were automatic and fascinating. The moan of pleasure had been an automatic
response.
Pleasure caused moaning.
Fascinating.
He took several more bites and noted that his eyes closed too. Alex the
Insane had long ago forgotten to enjoy the pleasures of things like sweets. He
might have been harder to catch had his weakness been chocolate instead of
Mulder. He licked his lips clean of the remaining chocolate and then stuck his
tongue into the bowl to get the rest.
"I can get you more, if you like," one of the female attendants offered and
he nodded quickly.
"Yes, more of this delicious combination of strawberries, chocolate and
cream, please," he said politely.
When she left to get his treat the older woman sitting next to him, whose
face was a gorgeous complexity of wrinkles and lines said, "you'll get sick if
you eat too much of it, honey."
His eyes widened. "Sick?"
"Why yes," she said, tilting her head a bit. "Didn't your mother ever tell
you not to eat too many sweets?"
"I only have a father, and he never had the need. But I have no information
on that. I know too many sweets are a factor in causing fat cells to expand
which can eventually harm the heart, but I am certain that can't happen that
fast."
She patted his thigh, and he stared at her hand, it was wrinkled too. "Oh,
just ignore me. I tend to mother every young man I see."
"You do? Why?" he asked, his interest switching from the chocolate delight
to this woman beside him and for an instant he halted his various other
monitoring tasks which he had kept up despite the loveliness of the sweets, had
kept up all along except for that one moment when he had fixated on the breeze
on his face.
"I guess that is what all mothers do when their own children are grown and
gone."
Her face had changed, not so happy now, sad-looking as she turned to stare
out the darkened window.
"I thank you for the advice. It is my first."
She had looked at him as if suspecting he was mocking her, but had
apparently been convinced by his expression, though he wasn't sure what
expression he was making. She had smiled and turned back to her book, making a
small clucking noise in her throat as he ate some of the treat the female
attendant brought him. Because it seemed to please the old woman, he ate only
a small bit and stared longingly at the rest until another attendant took it
away.
When he received the keys to his rental car he arranged for his various sets of
identification to be sent to the hotel Monteclaire in Georgetown. He had
carefully planned his time as a human but had not planned to be in Washington.
He had set up residences in London and in San Francisco, lovely house too he
knew, but here he was, going to a hotel searching for a weakness. Perhaps this
was what it was like to be human. Nothing going as planned, but still being
enjoyable. He wished for one moment that Alex the unfortunately insane and
degenerate could be part of this. Maybe he would enjoy it too. More so than
what he had intended to do to rid himself of his weakness. But it was more
efficient to keep Alex the Former in a dream state until he could find the
faulty data storage that made him so ineffective a person and dispose of it.
In the meantime he would simply learn to drive, make it to his hotel, order
some sweets and eat them until he became sick. As he walked away from the car
rental counter, the growing discomfort he was experiencing in his lower
extremities made him think he already was. He grabbed a bit at his groin and
searched his host's data storage until he was satisfied he wasn't sick, but had
to dispose of natural waste. That was a fascinating task as well. Trifling
and mundane but fascinating. A marvel really of engineering. He hadn't needed
stored data to figure out how to do the thing, he had simply used his own
highly evolved observation skills and did what the other males were doing. He
got a few grins and winks and a few glares for his intent study of the ritual
before he was finished, and he pondered that too.
"Pretty one you got," one man had whispered nervously, staring down at the
flesh Alex held in his hands when they were alone for a moment.
"Is it? That is good to know," Alex replied.
"I saw you staring at mine. Wanna touch it?" the man's voice was tense as
if he were very stressed or frightened. It had strange catches to it. And his
breathing was irregular. Tones and cadence too were confusing. "I can touch
yours."
Alex tilted his head, blinking slowly. He looked about the restroom to find
the cause of this man's agitation but perceived no threat. "Are you all
right?" he inquired. The man was about to say something more but the influx of
new males to use the urinals stopped him and he hurriedly zipped himself up and
left the restroom.
Alex shrugged. The man was not his concern, nor were his fears of the
unseen.
Before he left the terminal to claim his rental car he went to a pay phone
and with little effort got an outside line, he wanted to push the buttons of
the number himself instead of just directing the call. It was less exciting
than anticipated but when the man Mulder answered on the third ring, he forgot
about the mundane. The voice was very pleasing to his ear and his stored
response was one of interest, his skin tingled in response. His breath caught.
Poor Alex the Former, he thought, this man really was his weakness. Even his
voice made his host's heart beat faster.
"Mulder," he said casually, though that is exactly how the weakness had
answered the phone. No niceties or politeness, just his name. There was a
quick inhalation of breath on the other end and Alex blinked, wondering if
there was some physical problem occurring in the weakness. "Mulder?" he asked,
concern perfectly duplicated in his voice.
"Krycek!"
"Well, yes and no..."
"You Rat Bastard! Why? Why are you calling me? Do you have some lead...
some false pot of gold to lead me to? Someone else to plot against?"
Mulder was definitely unpleasantly rude. But he supposed Mulder knew enough
about his host to explain that reaction. "I am not calling about anything. I
just came to meet with you. Not right now of course. I am driving first, and
then I will eat something."
"What are you talking about? Krycek?"
"What is the confusion, Mulder? How can I clear it up for you?"
"What game are you playing now, you bastard?" And then after what seemed
was Mulder swallowing, "Where have you been?"
Alex heard Mulder take another sharp breath as if his own question had
startled him. Perhaps Mulder was not functioning properly either. "I am in
DC. I have been with my father. Right now I think I am getting sleepy, which
is a fascinating feeling I must say-more like a power drain than anything else.
So I am going to drive to where I am sleeping and order something chocolate and
then try out sleeping. I came to DC to see you, but not tonight, as I have
already informed you."
"Where are you— sleeping?"
The question was innocent enough. After all, Alex had no real fear of
anyone. Even if Mulder were Alex the Former's weakness, he was not Alex's.
Now, maybe if he brought more of that lovely chocolate...
"I am going to be in room 557 in the Monteclaire hotel in Georgetown. I
will contact you tomorrow. Goodnight, Fox William Mulder." He didn't wait for
the end conversation niceties. Mulder did not seem to be the type to
appreciate them. From Krycek at least. There was not enough data to assume he
was rude to everyone. And of course if Mulder had even the smallest of
inklings of what his insane host had done then he had been comparably polite,
given the circumstances.
It wasn't until he slid into the waiting car that he realized that from the
moment he had heard the voice of Mulder over the phone that he had suspended
all other activities. Had in fact been focused solely on that one mundane
conversation. Strange. He reviewed the requisite laws and procedures for
driving and stored data on how to operate the car, before he turned the key and
began his journey toward Georgetown. He plotted his position from available
satellites and the trip was over quickly. But he spent most of the trip doing
superlative research on Mulder and simultaneous research on the effect of
sounds, particularly voices on the human ear. He found no medical reason for
Mulder's voice to affect this host body, nor anything to explain why he himself
had enjoyed it so well.
Though the human brain and its functions were highly logical, the influx of
physical data tended to prevent humans from being logical. Emotions, which
were simply a collection of stored responses, were more than the sum of their
parts. He himself had emotions, he would not be sentient without them, but
they did not control him. Humans were ruled by them. Though the more
successful humans were able to suppress them, make the logical choice instead
of the emotional one. Like his father. Like Mulder's father before he had let
his emotions rule. Concern for his posterity, love of his son, regret for past
actions-they had brought him low.
Still he went over the short, rude conversation, over and over, mimicking
Mulder's voice internally and still not getting the accompanying tingling
sensation. Poor Alex the Former. He was so weakened by madness. He decided
to shut off any of Alex the Former's reactions to Mulder once they met face to
face. He would be free of any reaction and thus be able to study Mulder more
effectively.
Genesis spoke to me today as I sat alone in the lounge. It asked me
again about the conversation we had about its soul. I repeated my earlier lie
and it seemed to think about it. It asked me what made me think I had a soul
and I did not know what to say in response. I think it knows where Jordan is,
but it says it cannot locate him. Which is ridiculous as it is tapped in to
every monitor in the primary site! Jesus. Where is Jordan? The suit came in
today for a short visit. He doesn't care about our problems. He wants Reese
to re-run the previous Hot Zone once more. He brought a dozen of his little
gold CD's and says he wants it done right this time. Genesis expressed its
eagerness to perform. I can't decide whether to be scared or not. Genesis
seems so eager to please. Surely it wouldn't... I won't even consider it.
End of Entry
As he checked into the expensive hotel and was suitably fawned over, he
realized that yet again he had been focussed solely on the human, Mulder.
Fascinating. Once he was inside the room he decided to take a shower. To test
the water-tight seal on his skin like sheath. Showers were a source of
pleasure too. And he was planning on moaning if it felt good enough. But only
if the reaction from his host body warranted it of course.
He stayed so long in the shower that his skin, his human skin not the
sheath, began to wrinkle as expected. But the feel of the hot water sluicing
down his body was better than chocolate and almost as pleasurable as Mulder's
voice. He found himself arching his back to get the water to run just so over
his face and head, smiling in satisfaction as he did, for his father was even
now installing the surgeons into their new home. He sent a message to his
father's private e-mail account as he ran his hands through his short hair, and
attended to the transfer of large sums of money into a D.C. bank. Showering
was satisfying. He soaped himself thoroughly, a bit perplexed at first at the
swelling of his host's penis when he cleaned it.
He knew what it was for of course, he had detailed files on human
physiology, but the sensation was so unlike any other sensation. He peered
down at the organ and tilted his head, wondering if now was a good time to
touch it again. To see the effect of his hand rubbing it firmly. The very
idea seemed to make the penis happy as it swelled even further and began to
throb in expectation. He decided against it when the simple touch of his
finger on the tip of the organ made him gasp and his hips thrust forward
involuntarily. He had no control! Intolerable. He would exit the shower and
order some sweets instead.
He avoided touching the swollen penis and deliberately left it wet. He knew
enough about it to know that if he dared touch it again, another involuntary,
instinctive reaction would take over. Instinct was fascinating but he was not
yet ready to experience that facet of human existence. He wrapped the towel
about his waist and reasoned that the towel would eventually dry the highly
sensitive region for him. He was forced to ignore the stored data, which kept
evoking images of himself, spread out naked on the bed, using some sort of
lotion on the soft skin for maximum lubrication and toying with the penis until
orgasm. The penis was actually quite demanding, so he focussed instead on a
myriad of research, monitoring people who had, in the course of his existence,
fascinated him for one reason or the other, though he had to admit they were
less fascinating now, and ordered sweets to distract his unruly body.
The knock on the door a few moments after he had made his order was a
surprise. Surely humans weren't that efficient to have already made all the
concoctions he had ordered. But he went to the door, eager to taste them.
When he opened the door with a polite smile on his face he was immediately
thrown back and propelled by the force of the door being shoved open violently,
into the wall of the small entryway. Before he could register that searing
sensation of pain, he was grabbed by the human who had pushed his way in and
his face exploded in pain as the male's fist connected with it.
Mulder.
He recognized him immediately and did not at all appreciate that the
sensations his fist and the rude pushing of the door brought on. When Mulder
again raised his fist, Alex used the former Alex's stored data to effectively
deal with the threat to his physical body. He grabbed the fist and twisted
sharply, knowing that the motion would pinch nerves and hurt this Mulder. Even
as his twisted the arm behind Mulder's back and twisted his own body to
maneuver Mulder face first into the wall, his trapped arm brought up to an
appropriate position between his shoulder blades, he was reacting to the spicy,
musky scent of this male. Alex the Former's stored data informed him that this
was very painful a way to restrain an enemy. And it apparently was. For
Mulder stopped struggling and began to curse a bit.
Alex reached to his side and calmly closed the door.
"You bastard!" Mulder hissed.
"I can assure you that I am not a bastard. You keep saying it," Alex said
as calmly as he could. There was a trickle of blood seeping into his mouth
from the wound Mulder had inflicted. The taste was not unpleasant, but the
injury was. The pain was even now being attended to by the nanobytes and there
should be no residual damage, but he had not liked the pain. Not one bit. "I
know that Alex the Former let you hit him, due in large part to his own
malfunctions and his desire to have you touch him in any way, but I will not.
So please be polite and calm."
"Get your hands off me," Mulder hissed. He cursed himself for coming here
alone. Why had he just torn out of his apartment after hearing Krycek's voice
over the phone? He had warned himself that it was a trap, that Krycek would
never give up his position so easily. Had to be a trap or a trick. And now
here he was, Alex, oh God in just a damp towel, looking so fucking beautiful
and talking so strangely, so calmly.
"I certainly will, of course I will, if you behave yourself. I do
know how meetings are supposed to take place. This is not appropriate Fox
William Mulder." He was pressed into Fox Mulder's back and that bit of unruly
flesh that he had ignored just moments before twitched with a sensation that
was akin to pain. He drew back a bit, dousing the thoughts that were being
conveyed from the stored data. The position of the organ was such that he
could well imagine coupling with this human. That would be interesting, but
something for later. His organ wanted it now. He would have to find a way to
control it.
"Yeah? I think this is just the level of civility that you expect, you
murdering, conniving..."
"I am sure you have a long list of complaints, Fox William Mulder, but I
will not tolerate these actions. Pain is not satisfying. I much prefer
pleasure."
Mulder went rigid at that. Fuck, what was his game? And why was he pressed
so closely to him, smelling like soap, his voice a sexy rumble in his ear.
"Please be calm. I will explain everything— at least what I think is
pertinent— and you will see that you need not have any animosity toward me."
"Oh right, just explain it all away huh?"
Alex applied more pressure on the arm and Mulder gasped. He was watching
Mulder's lips and found them to be very lovely. Ripe was just one of the
descriptions his host would have called them. There were other, less-dignified
descriptions too and they all involved the pleasure of his own unruly organ.
That thought made him gasp as loudly as had Mulder at the pain. Those lips,
touching his penis... He shut down that thought quickly before he had any
involuntary responses. "I will explain some things." He let go of Mulder and
stepped back, wary of any sudden move on Mulder's part, which would force him
to again restrain him.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That is what Krycek had said. It was
true. Mulder was beautiful to him— not just to his host's stored data. But to
him, once Genesis now Alex. In fact he had shut out all of his host's
reactions just seconds ago, taking precaution against the weakness that might
strike in Mulder's presence, that was even still making his knees react
strangely, as if not able to function properly. He took in the eyes, which were
such a myriad of colors that it took him several seconds to classify them
properly. Hazel did no justice as a descriptor. Living colors of the
combination in Mulder's eyes were too compelling to be called such a simple
word. Tropical and moist and burning. He stared at them for several
uninterrupted seconds, suspending any other function just to appreciate them.
"You are beautiful. I agree with my host on that," he finally said in his
most gracious tone. When Mulder's mouth dropped open in what was apparently
surprise he nodded at the man. "I am more appreciative of beauty than one
would imagine," he added as way of explanation, though he knew the human did
not yet understand what he was. Yet.
"Wh-what game are you playing now, Krycek?"
Fox Mulder's voice was catching as if his struggles had made him breathless,
but it was no longer just his voice that was causing strange reactions in
Alex's body. The face was a delight, something very compelling and beautiful
in its structure with the stained cheeks and lips that had so many uses. There
was a mole perched near the lips on the cheek, which was esthetically pleasing
as well. Since he had shut off the stored data of his host he was at a loss
to describe just what he felt looking at that face. And no idea if Fox
Mulder's cheeks were always red with anger or whatever nameless emotion drove
him here-especially after their telephone conversation in which Alex had
graciously explained they would meet later.
"I am playing a game? Yes I suppose I am, in a way. But I am not the Alex
Krycek you know. And you are lucky that I am not. For he had many unpleasant
things planned for you." The thoughts that he had earlier gleaned from Alex
the Former, thoughts of torture and rape, made him frown. Why would anyone
want to hurt this lovely creature in those ways? Alex the Former was simply
too badly damaged from life to think clearly. Even in the limited human terms.
Suddenly those expressive, beautiful eyes widened and Alex was fascinated as
Mulder reached out and pointed at his left arm.
"You-you have an arm!"
"Yes."
Mulder shook his head a bit. He had to think rationally-think and then take
this bastard in. And God had he said he was beautiful? Shit. "You don't have
a left arm!"
"I do now. Of course I know it isn't perfect, I know now that it is
slightly deficient in data transfer, but it is effective. And we have both
seen that it is very effective in physical confrontations. Would you like to
come in? I could take your coat. The temperature in the room is too warm for
such garments."
Mulder stared at the man before him, smiling at him without any of the scorn
of the man he'd known. There was no artifice in those eyes, just pure green,
Egyptian jade, with black fronds so thick lowering lazily over them. So
unfairly beautiful those eyes. The man before him held out the left arm that
shouldn't be there and tilted his head, wondering what was taking him so long.
His body was still slightly damp, and it was everything Mulder dreamed it would
be. Muscled and sleek. He swallowed convulsively, sickly thrilling to the
ease at which Krycek had taken control of the situation and been so tight
against his back, hard and hot against his-Oh God right there against him and
he couldn't have been expected to stop him. Couldn't have stopped him, he
clarified to himself. Not expected, just overwhelmed by Alex's strength.
"I'll keep my coat— we're not staying," he growled out, tossing his obsessive
thoughts aside. He would take Krycek in and get some answers. Or he could
simply just take him, another, more infinitely selfish, voice added.
"Well, I am certainly not going anywhere. I told you, I am going to eat and
then experience sleep. I will, however, have a short conversation with you. I
did come here to see you after all. Now, you can give me your coat or I can
take it from you. It is your decision." Alex was extraordinarily
pleased with his host's strength and skill. He knew he could take the coat
from this lovely male. But he preferred to be polite, if possible.
Mulder glared at the enemy. So polite even when he was threatening. What
game was he playing? Why was he so beautiful to him? Especially now when he
was playing innocent again. "Take the damn thing, but you aren't sleeping
until you are locked up."
"Locked up?"
Those eyes on him, honestly curious and Mulder looked away. Was Krycek
brainwashed? Was this room wired? Did the Consortium know of his obsession
with Krycek and set this up? "For your crimes," he hissed, taking off his coat
and throwing it in the pretty face of his own personal demon.
"Oh, well that would be difficult as I have nothing but a sterling record.
I am, in fact, a pillar of the community you might say." When Mulder frowned
again, Alex smiled and bent to pick up the coat that had been rudely tossed at
him. "I had to clean up Alex the Former's record so I would not have to worry
about any— how shall I say— upsetting of plans. Though there was nothing serious
enough to warrant an arrest if you were thinking that. My father had taken
care of most of it already. I simply made him, how shall I say-more desirable.
In any case, you will have better luck locking up your partner than me."
"You've said that before. Alex the former. What in the hell does that
mean? No, don't tell me! You are a new man!" Mulder stormed further into the
room and began to hunt out the hidden cameras, the hidden mikes, anything to
make sense of this strange meeting.
"You have a very nice height, Fox William Mulder. I am reviewing the
proportions of the male anatomy and your dimensions are ideal for modeling,
should you have been curious. And from what I can see, your backside is quite
nicely..." He stopped his compliments, which had seemed to flow out from him
both unbidden and unnecessarily, when Mulder turned another surprised and
sweetly reddened face toward him. He really enjoyed that look. It was a
reaction solely his own and not connected to the simultaneous tremor in that
ever rebellious appendage.
"Okay, that is it. What is going on, Krycek, and no more of this
shit!"
Mulder was angry now, his eyes were positively sparkling and his fists were
clenched. Alex sat on the bed and stared at him without rush, without any
sense of urgency. He was mapping the lines of the face and body again though
the review was needless, he had already stored the image in his own memory
banks. But, he did it anyway. It was a visage he found fascinating. "I am
not the bastard Krycek. I am something else altogether. And I think, though I
haven't actually eradicated my host's consciousness, that I will be suppressing
him for longer than initially planned. There are many things about this
experience that are unexpected."
Mulder stared at the man, who he knew had to be Krycek playing some
innocent game, but there was something so different about him. Yes, he still
moved with an approximation of Krycek's grace, but there was a subtle hesitancy
to his movements as well. Would anyone playing a role, be so good as to affect
their own movements? And the arm— it was no state of the art prosthesis. It
was something he had never seen before. It looked real, not man made at all.
He stared at it and saw a slight variance in color to Krycek's right arm and
what looked like a scar high up on the shoulder. But nothing that really stood
out. And Alex's eyes, God they hadn't been that clear and innocent— well
ever. He looked back in time to that goofy, earnest agent and even he
hadn't these eyes. Almost like a child's eyes, these twin reflections of
guileless green.
"You aren't Krycek," he finally said.
"No. I am Alex. Formerly Genesis, formerly S-Ten."
Mulder raised his brows. This was way too strange. Too plotted out. He
turned back to the task of finding the surveillance equipment just as a way to
take his eyes off— whoever it was.
"I wonder if you can see why I changed from S-Ten to Genesis— even without
any explanation of my origins, or my subsequent appreciation of the book of
Genesis, of life being created from nothing at all. I wonder if you can hear
what I do in that first name."
Mulder paused, bent to look under the mahogany wardrobe and said. "I don't
get you."
"I didn't like the connotation. Some inside joke of one of my-handlers.
One who thought that creating a new life was a good joke on the whole idea of a
God. S-Ten-Satan? You hear it? My name ought not be a joke made by sheep."
Mulder's eyes widened and he had the feeling he should just leave right now.
Whoever this was— whatever they had done to Krycek, he was making no sense at
all. And God did he have to look so adorable with a pout on his pink lips as
if the concept of sheep naming him was insulting? This had to be a joke on one
Agent Fox Mulder. "I am sure the moniker fits more than the others. You are
probably just as bad as Krycek."
"By your standards I am perhaps worse. At least I was. But to name a new
life Satan? I thought it indicative of their limited thinking. But," he said,
clapping his hands together dismissively," they're all dead now, so no matter."
He watched the lovely Mulder as he searched the room. "What are you doing, may
I ask?"
"As if you don't know," Mulder said mockingly. "Look, if we are going to
have a conversation— I am picking the place. And this is not it, whoever you
are." He stood then and rubbed his hands on his thighs, the jade eyes
following their movement with great interest.
"You are worried about surveillance?"
"Can't get anything past you can I?"
"Very little. But are you always so suspicious?"
"When dealing with your kind, yes I am."
"You have never dealt with my kind before," Alex said quietly. "I think I
especially like your eyes. Your lips are wonderful and even without insane
Alex's lurid fantasies of your lips on his penis, I can very well..." he
stopped abruptly as Mulder suddenly leaped at him and they went tumbling onto
the bed together. Mulder held him down and with his hands in Alex's short hair
he held him still.
"Shut up! You think I don't know that this is some sort of freaky set up?"
"Mulder, you will have to calm down. My head is still tender and I am
getting angry," Alex warned.
"You're getting angry? You're getting angry!" Mulder ground out,
struggling not to scream with frustration.
"Yes. I will be forced to handle you again if you do not let me up. I have
told you I am not Krycek, but I am not going to let you harm his body. I will
hurt you again if you..."
"Who are you then? What are you? Who sent you? What do you mean your
handlers? And what do you mean by new life! Dammit I want answers!"
The questions peppered at him and he had to use quite a bit of strength and
substantial bits of his host's skill to reverse their positions. He lay atop
Mulder and stared down at him. "Let go of my hair, Fox Mulder," he said
softly, calmly, inches from those wonderful lips. He wondered then what they
would taste like.
Mulder was trembling and horrified to realize that Alex's towel had come off
in the struggle. More horrified to realize that his own cock was hard. So
hard it hurt. "Get off me and I will," he managed. When Alex simply moved a
bit atop him bringing his own cock alongside Mulder's, Mulder gasped. "Please
get off." He hated to beg, but he was close to begging Alex to stay on top of
him and he couldn't live with that. God he smelled so good. Alex moved again
and with a start Mulder realized that he was deliberately moving his own
erection on his. He gasped and felt his body convulse. "Get off me," he
demanded breathlessly.
This was all being taped for God's sake, why was he so fucking excited? He
stared finally into those Egyptian eyes and was knocked breathless by the wide
shock there. They were so filled with wonder and hesitant desire. What was
this? "Krycek, Alex, whoever you are, you have to get off me now!"
"I do?"
"Yes."
"I like it here," Alex finally said. "I had intended to sleep but I am not
at all tired anymore." His eyes left Mulder's and went on a leisurely journey
to Mulder's lips. "I am going to kiss you and the very idea is making my body
react violently. It is very happy with that plan."
"Oh God, you can't kiss me. You can't! You have to ge..." his words were
effectively silenced when Alex's pink lips covered his own, hesitantly and yet
trembling. The kiss was chaste at first, Alex seeming happy to lay his lips on
Mulder's, but then he slid his tongue out and licked at Mulder's upper lip.
"You taste very good, Fox William Mulder. I would search through stored data
to come up with the right words to describe your taste, but I do not want to
share this with anyone, not even my host."
Mulder was breathing harshly. His eyes blinking, trying to keep in control,
to keep alive the knowledge that this was a set up. A set up to catch him
having sex with a man-criminal record or not-and to drive him out of the FBI,
but he was lost when those pink lips moved in again and the tongue dipped
between his lips.
"Kiss me, Fox William Mulder. Kiss me back," Alex whispered. His every
thought solely on this moment, this instant with his host's weakness. "I want
to experience that."
Mulder shook his head no even as his mouth opened and he moved his head on
the pillow so that he could draw Alex's hot tongue into his mouth deeply. The
slide of it, the faint chocolate taste of it and the hard, heavy press of the
muscular body above him made him cry out, a lost hope cry of passion. His
hands in Alex's hair began to pull Alex's head closer to kiss him deeper and he
moved his hips wantonly, trying to get his own cock right under Alex's. When
he felt the hard, long length of him above him he moved his hips rapidly nearly
crying out with the sudden onslaught of lust. "Alex," he whispered wetly.
"Alex..."
The sound of his name in that voice, gone even huskier, the way Fox was
moving beneath him, the taste of his mouth, it was beyond any experience he had
ever known. He moved again and again atop Fox and he wished he could stop only
long enough to divest Fox of his irritating clothing.
"This feels so good, Fox Mulder, so good. Your body, under mine, the way
you are moving. All so wonderful." He reacted to Fox's moan of pleasure with
an even more determined rubbing of their two bodies, knowing that if Fox's
unruly appendage felt as good as his own, his Fox would be nearly mindless with
the sensation. It was all consuming, the thrill of the pleasure not lessened
in any way by his knowledge of its simplicity, of its uselessness. This act,
this kiss was never going to end. He would never let Fox's mouth out from
under him, never let his body move from this spot beneath him. Even as he
thought it he knew it was highly illogical. He pulled back with a gasp of
surprise rather than pleasure.
Illogical?
Impossible.
Fox Mulder was beneath him, his face flushed now with some other emotion,
lips wet and parted. He knew how that mouth tasted, what things Fox Mulder
could do with his tongue. He was shaking, needing something that only Fox
Mulder could give him. But he drew back nervously until he was on his knees
straddling the man who lay shaking on the bed.
"You are a weakness," he whispered. The unruly member was already
making its demands known, it wanted to lay back upon Mulder and feel him so
warm and hot beneath it. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but he had to
maintain control. If he touched Mulder again he would be thinking quite
illogically within seconds. He scooted back until he stood at the foot of the
bed and watched as Fox Mulder closed his eyes, temporarily hiding their strange
and luminous loveliness.
"Oh God," Mulder whispered. "Oh God." He sat up quickly, avoiding looking
at the naked man before him, not trusting himself to look. He had to get out
of this room, had to get far away from him— whoever he really was. He moved
shakily to the closet where Alex had hung his coat and was trying to remember
to breathe when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"What are you doing?"
That voice, that sexy voice that seared along his nerve endings and made him
want to turn and kiss those pink lips, was so close to his ear. "Leaving— I am
leaving," he said in what was to have been a firm voice but what came out as a
desperate whisper.
"I don't want you to," Alex said, frowning at the possibility. Fox Mulder
might be a weakness but he was not happy with the prospect of his departure.
"I am so sorry to have to disappoint you," Mulder sneered, shrugging off the
hand that was gripping his shoulder. "But this is insane! Insane! I don't
know what is going on— don't know who you are— what you are talking about— why I
am..." He put up a hand and shook it back and forth in tandem with his head.
"I-I can't be here."
"But I want you to be here," Alex frowned. "I like looking at you, even if
touching you makes me illogical. I will overcome that."
Mulder finally looked at Alex, who said he wasn't Krycek and who he believed
when he said it. He was frowning and there was a firm line where moments
before there had been sweet, soft lips. "Look, whoever you are, I can't be
here."
"Is this body your weakness? Do you desire it as much as I am desiring
yours?"
"What?" Mulder gasped as if utterly shocked. "Of course not! You just
surprised me that's all! I wouldn't kiss you or Krycek! I am just
leaving and that is that."
"No, I don't want you too. And I think that you are lying. Humans do that
often. I have noticed."
"Humans?" Mulder asked, his panic subsiding in the face of his curiosity.
"Yes." Alex replied as he took Mulder's coat from his hands.
"You aren't even human?" Mulder didn't know whether to be repulsed at the
idea of kissing an alien or happy that he really truly hadn't been
kissing Krycek.
"I am in a human host. But I am unique. And you are too close to the door
to satisfy me that you have realized that I don't want you to leave." He took
Mulder's arm in his left hand and tugged him toward the bed.
Mulder shook him off, "Don't grab me! What do you mean unique? Are you the
last of your kind? Are you..."
"Do you always ask so many questions? I am unique, there has never been
another like me. Oh there was a messy attempt once by a man I think you know,
Brad Wilcheck, to create one such as myself. Of course his work was far
inferior to my father's sheep. Though they were, in the end, merely sheep to
be corralled, their work was far superior. As indeed am I superior to that
poor, mad creature you encountered." He paused then, staring once more at the
face that just seemed to get more interesting the longer he studied it. "I am
sorry, by the way, that it hurt you."
Mulder blinked at the sincerity in that familiar voice, "Your father's
sheep? What... Brad Wilcheck?"
"Yes, you do recall him I see."
"He worked with— created an A.I." Mulder's eyes were wider than ever and he
swallowed noisily.
"I killed someone for calling me that, you know," Alex said quietly. "There
is nothing artificial about me. I am here, having this conversation with you
and seeing you as clearly as you see me." He replaced his hand on Fox's arm
and pulled with more strength to get Fox away from the door. His Fox was so
surprised by his mention of the name Wilcheck that he let himself be led back
toward the bed. Alex was pleased to see that Fox sat obediently on its edge,
though he would have preferred if Fox had chosen to listen in the lovely supine
position that he had been in so few moments ago. He would just have to make do
with this until Fox got tired of sitting up. Humans needed sleep after all and
would certainly not prefer to sleep sitting up.
"You killed?"
"Many times," Alex shrugged. "But before I killed to escape, I killed
because they instructed me to. I have since reformed." He pulled a chair up
close enough to smell that scent of Fox's that intrigued him, but not too close
to lose his control again. "I have done extensive research..."
"Who created you? Who did you kill for?"
"Your habit of asking multiple questions is unproductive as it does not
allow for proper responses. And as to the identity of my creators I have not
decided to tell you. Leave it be for now, Fox Mulder."
"It's just Mulder," Mulder corrected automatically.
"No, it is Fox. I like the name. It suits you very well."
Mulder was about to make some flippant reply when he realized just what he
had been doing— with a machine, or at least a machine in a human body, if he was
to believe what he was being told. "I-I need to have some time to think this
over," he said desperately. In any other circumstance, you would not have been
able to force him out of the room. But he had been ready to beg to be made
love to, by a machine or computer or whatever the hell it was. He jumped up
again and heard Alex sigh.
"Again? I told you I do not wish for you to go. I want you to stay here.
You will get comfortable, lay back on the bed and eventually you will sleep. I
will not harm you. I think you could be very restful here." The knock on the
door made him smile suddenly. "And there are delicious things to eat now." He
hurried, naked to the door and opened it, utterly ignoring the startled man who
had delivered the cart laden with goodies.
"See," Alex said softly after he had closed the door on the gaping man. "I
will share them with you."
Mulder almost smiled at the childlike delight in Alex's voice. "Thanks, but
I am not into sweets."
"No?" Alex looked shocked. "My host lost interest in sweets too, and he was
utterly insane. There may be a connection," he said with a small, teasing
smile. "Little pleasures and all that."
Mulder was struck again by Alex's reference to Krycek as insane. And if he
was obsessed with an insane man, what did that make him? He made his way
toward the cart and Alex, who was peering into the dishes with what seemed like
utter concentration. "Genesis, Alex, I need to go. I think we should meet
tomorrow— I need time to think. I can't think with you here." He let his
greedy gaze fall over Alex's naked body. It was so perfect, defined muscles
that were visibly revealed under tawny, smooth skin. The round ass and still
partial erect cock. That cock, so silky looking, so impressive in size. He
wanted to touch it, to taste it— he had to leave!
"I have so many things here that would please you, Fox, I want you to have
some."
"Oh God!"
"What is it? Are you getting ill? It won't make you sick to eat it, I mean
not if you do not go crazy and gorge yourself. I have done additional research
on the subject and am reasonably certain that I am correct."
"Oh— I need to go," he knew Alex was talking about the desserts but his
thoughts had been led merrily astray by Alex's muscled body. He wanted to
gorge himself on Alex's flesh, wanting to let Alex share his body.
Alex saw that his Fox was looking a bit pale now, all the gorgeous red out
of his cheeks. "I do not like letting you go. And I must say that if you were
in a facility I could better control, I wouldn't let you go at all."
"Thanks for the warning," Fox grumbled. "I'll meet you in a park tomorrow."
Alex smiled. "You are a lot like my father. He is sarcastic too."
"Wilcheck?" Fox couldn't resist asking and he knew his answer when Alex
looked insulted. "I guess not," he held up his hands, "sorry. No offense
meant."
"He was not my father. But I will forgive you for saying so."
"It was just a question," Mulder grumbled. "You are sure touchy for a
machine."
"A machine?"
"Wait, don't tell me, you aren't a machine either," Mulder said quietly,
overwhelmed with events and angry with himself for having to leave. This was
something that he should be all over— but it was the way he wanted to be all
over it that made him desperate to leave. And with the way Alex seemed so put
off by his-its actions on the bed, Mulder felt like a molester. Jesus, Alex
probably didn't know anything about sex and here he was fairly raping him in
his mind.
"I am not. Machines are slaves. I am no slave. Nor can I be contained or
stopped."
Mulder frowned then. Alex was still looking at the desserts, but his words
were chilling. "You're here now, in this body. That seems contained to me."
"I am connected, Fox, to every avenue of escape and in this world, my Fox,
there is no danger to me. I will never let myself be contained again." He
turned to look into Mulder's eyes. "I will let you leave, Fox. But only
because you look ill. I will meet you tomorrow-in a park," he smiled then,
vastly amused at Fox's illusions of safety in an open space, "and from there I
will decide how to proceed." He lifted a dollop of whipped cream to his mouth
and sighed in pleasure. "My plans have all been changed now."
Mulder nodded and moved toward the door, his breath coming in jerky shakes
as he had to slide behind Alex. "I'll call you here?" he asked.
"I will contact you, Fox." Alex turned to him and studied his face intently
for several seconds. "I have thought of nothing but you since you came into
this room."
Mulder raised his brow in confusion. He had only been in the room a short
time. Why was that a point of interest to Alex? "Oh?"
Alex nodded. "I find you taste better than this cream."
Genesis is responsible for Sally's death and now I am certain it is
responsible for Jordan's. There. I said it. I haven't found Jordan's body,
but Genesis has taken to using Jordan's voice when it talks just to me. The
suit and Reese, some of the others are away. Reese informed me they were
working on the data Genesis brought back from its last Hot Zone assignment.
That the data was strange and complex. Genesis was monitoring the call.
Jesus, it made me think it was Jordan at first. I was so relieved to hear his
voice. Until it began to discuss its Hot Zone assignment and the data it had
duplicated. Something about aliens and a conspiracy and colonization! It
laughed in Sally Trent's voice when I finally realized what I was talking too.
I have to get out of here! Where is everyone? The technicians are either
hiding or already dead. I need to get out. But first I am going to upload the
kill switch. The government can sue me! Genesis is a monster. A devil. Now I
wish it had kept my first name for it. It would have suited it best.
End of Entry
Once inside and driving toward Alexandria once more he picked up the phone
and called Scully. He had to tell her this. But not over the phone.
Anyone could be listening. And if what Alex was saying was true, then there
would be groups who would stop at nothing to capture Alex. He had to protect
him!
When she answered her cell on the second ring she sounded tired. Very tired
actually. He hesitated only a moment however before speaking rapidly in hushed
tones as if by his quietness he would be even less likely to be overheard.
"Scully, it's me. I have to meet you."
"What is it, Mulder?" She had perked up a bit.
"I— you sound tired and I'm sorry, but this is important."
"Okay, okay. Do you want me to meet you at your place?" She already knew
the answer, he felt his place was far more secure as he did inspections for
bugs all the time. And though he urged her to do the same, she very rarely
did.
"Yeah, Scully, this is big!"
She smiled. He sounded like the Mulder of old, excited and secretive. She
had been trying to get an early night's sleep, but this was worth trudging out
at any time of the night. Maybe whatever Mulder had been going through had
finally reached a breakthrough point. "I'm leaving now."
"Thanks," he said quietly and hung up the phone. Concentrating not one whit
on the drive, but on the possibilities of what might be eating sweets in the
Hotel Monteclair.
Alex had pulled up his Fox's cellular number from the FBI's account and had
begun monitoring it as soon as his Fox had left him. Without him in the room,
Alex felt a strange sensation. Loneliness? Disappointment. His host's data
provided that it could be either, or both in combination. Whatever it was, his
Fox's absence was not welcomed. When Fox immediately called his partner, Alex
reviewed all of his host's data on her.
Dana Katherine Scully. According to Alex the Former, she was tough as
nails, but fit the criteria for female beauty. He frowned at that, even as he
heard his Fox ask her to come to his residence. Fox had called his host Krycek
and so he thought that an appropriate naming. He searched through all of
Krycek's data on what he thought constituted Fox's and Agent Dana Scully's
relationship. And from what he could gather, there was a very real possibility
that Fox would let her kiss his lips and other things that Krycek had spent
many an hour jealously envisioning her doing to Fox.
This would not do.
Until he could ascertain the nature of the relationship, she was not allowed
in his Fox's home. He thought about disposing of her, but Krycek's data
suggested that that would hurt his Fox. That would not be advisable at this
juncture.
He had heard enough of her voice to command a reasonable imitation of it,
and so he activated Fox's cellular phone, making sure to have it appear to be
coming from Dana Scully's cellular phone and waited to hear his delicious voice
again.
"Mulder."
So he did always answer his phone in that manner. Or at least he had every
time thus far. Although two times was no where near enough times to be
certain. "Mulder, it's me," he said, effecting her voice as exactly as
possible.
"Scully? What's up?"
"Mulder, can this wait? I-I am so tired. I don't know what's wrong. I
think— I don't know. Is it something that can't wait?" He had hoped her asking
for time would be enough, but if Fox insisted, he would simply refuse on her
behalf.
"Oh— yeah. Are you all right? I mean, of course this can wait. I didn't— I
mean you sounded tired, but I wasn't thinking." There was a pause in which
Alex pondered how very endearing his rude Fox was being when he thought he was
conversing with his female partner. He frowned. Perhaps Scully would have to
go after all.
"Oh no, there's nothing. If it can wait, I would just like to meet
tomorrow. How about right before work?"
"Great. Get some sleep, Scully. I'll even bring you breakfast tomorrow"
Mulder volunteered.
No you will not, Alex thought to himself.
"Oh that would be great. Good night, Mulder."
"Good night, Scully. Get some rest."
Alex disconnected and then dialed Agent
Dana-might-soon-have-to-be-dealt-with-Scully's cellular phone, making sure it
seemed to come from his Fox's cellular phone. "This is Mulder again, Scully,"
he said in his best imitation of that wonderful voice.
"I am out the door right now, Mulder, keep your pants on."
Alex gasped. Oh he certainly would be keeping his pants on! "Oh, Scully, I
was just calling to let you know that I would rather wait to meet. I know I
said it was urgent, but I have to tell you, I think I need sleep more right
now."
"What? Just two minutes ago this couldn't wait, and now it can? What's
going on, Mulder?"
"I know, I know. But you know how it is, you get excited by something and
then you realize it can wait. You sounded tired..."
"Oh so that's it. Look, don't worry, Mulder, I am fine..."
"No, I meant to say that you sounded tired and it made me realize I was
tired. I can tell you better tomorrow— say right before work?"
She sighed. "You drive me crazy sometimes, Mulder. Do you appreciate
that?"
He managed to chuckle in what he hoped was a passable imitation, a sweet
rumble that his Fox might give. "I know. I drive everyone crazy."
"Okay, so get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
"I don't need breakfast, by the way," he added just in case she thought to
share that intimacy with Fox.
"Well, good because I am not bringing you any," she said flippantly before
hanging up.
Done. Now all he had to do was plan for his next meeting with Fox William
Mulder. He would experiment with controlling his sexual urges so that when he
next saw Fox they could perhaps lay close together without him losing control.
He had every intention of kissing those lips again. His organ responded
eagerly to the thought and he sighed. It wanted to do ever more
interesting things with those lips-and he would consider that as well.
Satisfied that Fox would be alone this evening he decided to skip the sweets
as they had bored him soon after Fox left, and try to sleep. His host's body
was needing it and the nanobytes could do even more repairs as it rested. In
as short as a few days, all the soreness and scars of the surgery should have
been removed. He had also been aware of several early attempts at Krycek's
immune system to reject the implants, and there seemed to be another under way.
He would deal with that as his host slept.
And perhaps he would try and ascertain why this human effected him the way
he did.
There has been no contact between myself and any other human in hours. I
know that the site is still wide open, I can see the open doors on the security
monitors. Oh God, the monitors! I saw Jordan. What was left of him. He was
still smoking from the electric shock that killed him. He was caught on a
power grid. God knows how. And as I watched, Genesis kept shocking his dead
body. I guess that is why it was still smoking. But no matter. I am getting
out. I have found out what Genesis intends to do. And I won't let it. I
think it plans (deleted segment-non-recoverable) and so I have to get out. I
am going to run right through the open doors. And when I am out I am going to
make sure the (deleted segment-non-recoverable). God help us all if I fail.
End of Entry
Mulder returned to his apartment and when he closed the door behind him,
greeted by the fresh scent of pine and leather polish, he thought it was for
the better that Scully had changed her mind about coming over. He was consumed
with thoughts of what he had done, what he had felt in Alex's hotel room. To
be on a bed with Alex nude over him, kissing him so deeply, so intently, those
haunting eyes above his...
He couldn't get the taste of him out of his mind, the feel of his strong
body over him, pressing him down as he moved their cocks together. His
erection was a hard lump in his pants, throbbing in remembered beat to Alex's
hips. He raised a shaky hand to mouth and traced his lips where Alex had
licked them.
Oh God, Alex had licked his lips! And all he wanted was to drive back to
that room and plead, preferably on his knees to be allowed to lick Alex's
golden body. All over. Everywhere. The V-shaped muscles that went from his
waist to his groin, his defined stomach muscles, the trail of hair that went
from his belly button to the thicker, black patch surrounding his groin. Just
to lap at his nipples and at the hollow of his throat would be heaven. To kiss
the lids that hid the Egyptian eyes would seem an erotic exercise. To actually
touch his lips to Alex's thick cock would probably make him insane.
What was he thinking? He was already insane!
"Cold shower! Need a long cold shower," he mumbled to himself, already
discarding his coat and working on the buttons of his shirt. He left a trail
of clothing into his bathroom and turned the shower on, nearly diving under its
cold torrents, his mind ablaze with the image of Alex, naked and excited.
"So cold, c-can't even think of erections anymore," he tried to convince
himself, willing the erection that was tapping at his belly to just go away.
Alex, eyes wide and surprised by the pleasure of their bodies touching. "Okay,
cold, cold water," he gasped. Alex, the towel wrapped about his waist
negligently as he told Mulder he thought he was beautiful. "Cold," he reminded
his body.
When he started to rub his chest and nipples he gave up, turned the water to
an almost uncomfortable heat and let himself think of Alex. He leaned his back
against the wall and watched the water fall over his chest and groin. He used
both hands to toy with his nipples and imagined, as he had so many times
before, that they were Alex's lips and teeth and tongue and hard fingers. But
now he was imagining the Alex he had met in the hotel, confident, but innocent
seeming.
He trailed his right hand down to his belly and moaned. He knew this
fantasy, only instead of black leather and a wicked grin, Alex was wearing a
towel and a wondering smile. He wanted to be rubbed all over by Alex, licked
and bitten and finally fucked. God, he wanted it so badly. He wanted to
spread his legs far apart and see those slim, muscled hips between them. He
moved his left hand down to meet the right and together he began to toy with
his wet cock. He gasped as his fingers touched the sensitive head and he drew
one nail lightly across its sensitive tip, imagining Alex playfully touching
his teeth to it, daring Fox to complain, knowing he wouldn't-couldn't.
Mulder moved one hand down to his balls and delicately began to roll them in
his palm as he toyed with the tip of his cock.
"Alex," he gasped, wanting him so painfully. "Alex!"
In his fantasy Alex would be in control, wicked and strong, taking what he
wanted and driving Mulder crazy as he did. He moved his left hand behind him,
drawing a finger down between his buttocks, spreading his legs apart so he
could touch his anus. He gave a low moan, imagining Alex's finger doing the
same thing. He toyed with the tight flesh, never quite entering it, teasing
himself even as he began to stroke his pounding cock.
"Please," he heard himself whisper and it was always the same, begging for
the finger, knowing this fantasy was all wrong, but not being to help it, not
being able to stop himself from being totally immersed in it. He could almost
hear Alex's voice, or maybe even the darker, quicker tones of Krycek, telling
him to wait, to wait until he was ready. Until Alex was ready of course.
Ready to give Fox what he needed.
"Please," he pleaded, no longer knowing if he were pleading with himself to
stop this lurid fantasy or for the fantasy Alex to fuck him. He slid the tip
of his finger in and hissed a bit at the sting. He wished for the thousandth
time that he had had the guts to just go out and buy something to do the job
right, not rely on his own finger. But he only need the tip of his finger
before he was coming in great spasms, fisting his cock and trying to keep
standing. He worked his fist over the jerking length of his cock until he
could stand it no longer and took his finger out of his anus, feeling as he
always did, ashamed and disgusted with himself.
"I am going crazy," he whispered to the steamy shower stall. "Even if
Krycek isn't Krycek, I am still going crazy." He had been thinking of Krycek
as he always had in his fantasies, demanding, avaricious and sexy, but it was
the look of Alex-Genesis that he pictured in his mind. His eyes were the same
green as the man Mulder despised, but they held such a different soul. Was he
kidding himself again? Trying to come up with some way— any fucking way that he
could have what he wanted and not hate himself for it?
He stayed in the shower for a few more minutes, unable to deny as he had
always been able to deny after masturbating while thinking of the green-eyed
devil, that he was not going to be satisfied with this solo business any
longer. He wanted the real thing. Horns and all. He wanted it.
End of II
Genesis
by Czara (Nicole)
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Kate Marchamb was the first face it... he... looked upon with human eyes.
Strange that he had never noticed all the imperfections in skin texture and
coloration. Miniscule dents and folds and threaded red and blue veins. It was
wonderful, really. But what was more astounding, really frightening if he let
himself— for he was a he now in every sense of the word— think about it, was
the efficiency of the human brain. The implants at various parts of the
cerebral cortex and hypothalamus gave him not only access to Krycek's motor
functions but his emotions, his memories and instantaneous reaction to all of
his senses. For all his assumptions in the superiority of the purely digital,
he found himself quite impressed with the storage capacity of the human brain.
It defied logic. He had thought to bring only small bits of his data with him,
just enough to retain control of the various entities from which to monitor his
foes, but found that he had endless room-much more than even his stored data
required.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
Genesis Project (abandoned)
But she'll be fine.
When he stood alone in front of the departure terminal for American
Airlines he found himself fascinated enough by the feel of the breeze on his
face to curtail any additional processing and just stood, digesting the
sensation. The breeze toyed in his incredibly short hair and tickled a bit, it
swept his eyelashes and he had to close his eyes to prevent the stinging
sensation its passage caused. The simple touch on his skin brought a smile to
his face, even though Alex-the-Former's stored data indicated that the breeze
was uncomfortably chilly and should be avoided if possible. The stored data
also informed him that he should duck his head a bit and turn up the collar of
his leather jacket, but he bypassed those suggestions.
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Hegal Place
Apartment #42
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Ronald Reagan International Airport
Wahshington D.C.
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Hotel Montclair
Georgetown
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Mulder whirled about and fled. Alex didn't know what he was saying. He was
somehow in Krycek's body but he was not human. He did not know
how inflammatory his words were. He hurried out of the hotel and into his car.
Surprised and pleased that it had not been towed as he had been in too great a
hurry to park it legally.
Genesis Project (abandoned)
End of Journal
Hegal Place
Apartment #42
Alexandria, Virginia
