The X-Project

Bullseye takes down his actual target.


Wade pushed the door to the clinic open slowly, squinting a little at the setting sunlight as it glinted off of the windows of other discrete businesses in the area. He wasn't entirely sure what the other discrete businesses did, but he knew he could get the info if he needed it. Or well.

Wincing, he pressed his palm to his abdomen. It was still healing - getting shot sucked. His friends getting shot also sucked. But he'd take getting shot instead of them any day. Doug was still out of it thanks to heavy medications, Kurt and Jubes were still getting treatment. He was the only one up and about.

So it wasn't like anyone but the Wheeze was around to do his dirty work for him when it came to figuring out what the other businesses on the street were doing. He was pretty sure one was a really upscale escort service, though. And one seemed to specialize in various forms of ice sculpture from what he could see in the window display. Which wasn't much.

Taking his phone out, Wade checked for messages, flicking the screen on four times before actually entering his password. Nothing. Not a word from anybody - not even anything from Cece with a ridiculous number of exclamation marks telling him not to show up at the MedLab with any more injuries for at least a month.

Despite his wandering mind, the hair on the nape of Wade's neck stood on end as he slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up to check his surroundings. He hadn't been paying enough attention. He knew better. He did. He just -

Six bullets, four knives and a dart tipped with poison. That was far too complicated, even accounting for wind and temperature and humidity, which was just - so easy really. It was too many objects in motion to keep track of with distinct velocities. It would have worked though.

But a pair of custom hollow-point bullets, one to the knee and one to the right shoulder worked just as well. He had them modeled after the discontinued Black Talons that Winchester Ammunition had made, modified for the rifle, and fired, crack-crack one after the other from the roof.

The rifle was a nothing, he dropped it. The real trick was shedding the gloves and white paper jumpsuit and running down the fire escape in a stolen EMT uniform, throwing himself into the driver's seat of the used ambulance and then counting to forty-five before rushing back out to do 'emergency first aid' and load the bleeding man into the back of the vehicle.

Bullseye wrapped duct tape around the stretcher and Wade's already-healing shoulder after dosing him with enough knock-out-juice to take out a moose. He patted one last strip of tape down, dropped himself back into the driver's seat and pulled into traffic - not bad for three minutes work.