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View Full Version : Area 51 Redux



John Doe
03-28-2006, 07:48 AM
Area 51. It had long been a UFO hunter's wet dream, a place thousands, probably millions, would love to spend even an hour inside, just to know all those government secrets and what was hiding inside it. All the crashed UFO's, all the military test planes that could fly straight up into the air without making a sound.

All of them were fools.

Some smart person years ago, literally within days of the Roswell incident, sent out a series of planes in a UFO shell game, and the wreckage was sent to the most mundane military bases they could find. The so-called smart ones, the Unsolved Mysteries conspiracy theorists, they all took the bait and went right for Area 51, believing that the denial of it's existance and the signs warning not to trespass on an Air Force installation meant that something sinister was going on.

They'd be shocked to discover it had, for decades now, been nothing more than an Air Force supply station. You know the too-tight t-shirt the girlfriend of an Air Force cadet would wear to the mall in order to simultaneously show off her rack and her boyfriend's career choice? It came from a warehouse sitting on the so-called Area 51. And the government, knowing that a little show now and then would keep everyone focused there instead of where the real activity was going on, would give the paraniod few a light show every now and then to keep them convinced that test flights were being done on recovered alien space crafts. You should've seen the way they laughed.

Then came the Mutant Problem. Washington DC was only now beginning to be rebuilt after the mutants decided to use it for their own personal playground of destruction. One truly did have to be impressed with the level of demolition they were able to carry out, too. The idiot President was gone, and thank God for that. I would've killed the bastard myself if he would've held onto the office any longer. The only thing worse than a meddlesome President was a Lame Duck one, and Caedmon Lamm was very much both of them.

But I digress.

The mutants and the havoc they wreaked took the focus off the aliens and Area 51. The UFO conspiracy nuts turned their attention to mutants and the way the government treated them. Aliens were ysterday's news, mutants pushing them aside the way they had pushed communists aside. And you, the pathetic American public, from the punk at McDonald's to the heads of large corporations, went right along with them, ever the obedient sheep. If you weren't so predictable, my job would be so much harder.

As I stand here now, however, looking at the finished redesign of Area 51, I can't help but smile. For years people devoted their lives to discovering the secrets of what was simply a glorified warehouse. Now that the island of Genosha had sprung up, people could care less about Area 51. If they could only see it now.

This was a project I oversaw, so you'll have to forgive me if I boast a bit. You would too, though, if you'd just finished such a massive project in 3 months' time. All those t-shirts and other useless crap had been cleared long ago, and although the buildings did not change on the outside, inside it was impossible now to tell what they once were. Holding cells, a total of 250 of them, had been installed, along with a series of examination, operation, and autopsy rooms. In other buildings were rows and rows of chemicals, many of which would be injected into or poured on or injested by those that would be held in the newly constructed cells. Placed around the compound are simple devices that will nullify a mutant's ability for a distance of up to a mile away from the base, making them unable to walk through walls or teleport away, or climb into my head. And labs, oh you should see the labs. State of the art doens't begin to describe them, because when you have the Security Clearance I do, you know just how behind the so-called state-of-the-art is. But in those rooms, some of the best minds on the planet will be working towards one single, simple goal.

Find a cure for the mutants.

You may think me a barbarian, a killer, probably no better than Hitler. But we both know I don't care what you think. If it were not for my actions, you would've been speaking Chinese years ago. At least, before they killed you in front of your family. I am sent in as a last diplomatic resort. The most powerful diplomat that is never discussed. I've met with some of the most powerful men in the world, drank their wine, ate their food, slept with their women. And if they didn't agree to my demands then they died, simple as that. Remember all those times you've read the words, "died of an apparent heart attack."

That's me. I'm Apparent Heart Attack.

And now my attention is fully on the mutants. I do not ask for your understanding or your sympathy. And when they no longer exist, when I've removed the threat of your children growing up to be enslaved by a freak group that no longer exists, I will not expect your thanks. After all, you don't even know I exist. Or sure, you think you know. You think I work for the CIA, the FBI, the NSA, or perhaps Army Intelligence. And perhaps I do work for one of them. Perhaps I work for all of them. But you'll never know it. So, instead of all the guessing, why don't we make this simple.

You can call me John Doe.