ext_7701 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
marag.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2004-04-21 09:27 am
marag.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-04-21 09:27 am
Entry tags:
The Sum of Zero by Dex (R)
Fandom: X-MEN COMICVERSE
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dexfarkin
Author Website: Dex's Mailing List
Why this must be read: This is an amazingly well-written murder mystery, equal parts police procedural, horror, and suspense. It's an evocative look at the uneasy relationship between humans and mutants, as well as the uneasy relationship between Scott Summers and Emma Frost. (Let's ignore recent developments in the comics, okay? This story was written before all of that and is vastly more in character anyway.)
Even if you don't know much about the X-Men, I highly recommend this story for the atmosphere and the gripping plot. I guarantee you'll be on the edge of your seat.
The Number twitched his fingers, anticipation threatened to swamp him. So close, so very close to his prey. He could close his eyes and already feel the rhythm of her pulse under his fingertips; a steady progression, from ordered beats, through the acceleration of fear to the final purity of zero. Transition, action and progression were the words which dominated the Number's life and actions.
The Number hurried up the steps from the subway, carefully brushing aside a lone panhandler without actually touching him. New York shone around him, brilliant and fetid simultaneously. A drop of sweat slid down his face, his own weakness offended him. Flesh was weak, humanity was weak, mutants were weak. Only fire was pure, and only zero had value. The Number stroked the brushed steel surface of his watch before moving on. Purpose and commitment would find him a place in the Great Pattern, nothing else.
A soft chime announced his entrance into the small café. The Number reluctantly accepted a menu from the girl in the front, distastefully noting the unsymmetrical white streak in the front of her hair. People just refused to understand; that was his opinion. No balance or order existed save what he brought to them. Why didn't they welcome him then?
He checked his watch again, silence like a balloon in the café around him. The timepiece reassured him. He refused to fall out of sequence, to disrupt his work on the Pattern. The girl brought him his tea, which he ignored. His fingers matched the sequence of his pulse on the plastic table top. His change sat next to the cup, and his eyes narrowed at the fact that it was irregular. He added a quarter from his pocket to the pile, bringing it back into alignment.
Precision was the most important thing. The Number touched the slim cylinder inside his pocket, reassuring himself with it's weight. Precision, attention to detail; these things would deliver him from his penance. The image of a door floated across his mind, the casing warped and the paint grey and peeling. He shuddered, struggled to fight down the rising panic, the cries in his ears. Equations rose unbidden in his head, numbers like a litany, blocking out the images long past. Figures danced in pure abstraction around him, and the Number took a deep breath as the panic and fear left him.
The Sum of Zero
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:
dexfarkinAuthor Website: Dex's Mailing List
Why this must be read: This is an amazingly well-written murder mystery, equal parts police procedural, horror, and suspense. It's an evocative look at the uneasy relationship between humans and mutants, as well as the uneasy relationship between Scott Summers and Emma Frost. (Let's ignore recent developments in the comics, okay? This story was written before all of that and is vastly more in character anyway.)
Even if you don't know much about the X-Men, I highly recommend this story for the atmosphere and the gripping plot. I guarantee you'll be on the edge of your seat.
The Number twitched his fingers, anticipation threatened to swamp him. So close, so very close to his prey. He could close his eyes and already feel the rhythm of her pulse under his fingertips; a steady progression, from ordered beats, through the acceleration of fear to the final purity of zero. Transition, action and progression were the words which dominated the Number's life and actions.
The Number hurried up the steps from the subway, carefully brushing aside a lone panhandler without actually touching him. New York shone around him, brilliant and fetid simultaneously. A drop of sweat slid down his face, his own weakness offended him. Flesh was weak, humanity was weak, mutants were weak. Only fire was pure, and only zero had value. The Number stroked the brushed steel surface of his watch before moving on. Purpose and commitment would find him a place in the Great Pattern, nothing else.
A soft chime announced his entrance into the small café. The Number reluctantly accepted a menu from the girl in the front, distastefully noting the unsymmetrical white streak in the front of her hair. People just refused to understand; that was his opinion. No balance or order existed save what he brought to them. Why didn't they welcome him then?
He checked his watch again, silence like a balloon in the café around him. The timepiece reassured him. He refused to fall out of sequence, to disrupt his work on the Pattern. The girl brought him his tea, which he ignored. His fingers matched the sequence of his pulse on the plastic table top. His change sat next to the cup, and his eyes narrowed at the fact that it was irregular. He added a quarter from his pocket to the pile, bringing it back into alignment.
Precision was the most important thing. The Number touched the slim cylinder inside his pocket, reassuring himself with it's weight. Precision, attention to detail; these things would deliver him from his penance. The image of a door floated across his mind, the casing warped and the paint grey and peeling. He shuddered, struggled to fight down the rising panic, the cries in his ears. Equations rose unbidden in his head, numbers like a litany, blocking out the images long past. Figures danced in pure abstraction around him, and the Number took a deep breath as the panic and fear left him.
The Sum of Zero