NEVER NAME THE LAB ANIMALS

Tucked safe and warm into the control room of one of their facilities, the senior members of the Weapon-X team watched their instruments, sipped coffee or tea or soda, and did their best to keep track of what was happening.

Somewhere outside of the facility, out in an apparently endless snow-covered pine forest, X-23 was locked in vicious combat with a pack of starving wolves.

In terms of their instruments, the most annoying problem for the observers from Weapon-X was that the refresh-rate of the display screen was having difficultly keeping up with the fight. The hyper-kinetic sprawl of entangled bodies, snarling muzzles, glittering claws, swirling white snow, and bright red splashes of blood would occasionally surge in a way that was much too fast for the screen, and it would fuzz-out into a mass of pixelation and color. Also, the sound on the display screen was turned off. However, that was a deliberate decision, not a technical problem. The Weapon-X team had long since decided that the noise created in one of their combat scenarios was too distracting for the typical observer. It interfered with smooth and detached observation and analysis.

However, it didn't take much of an imagination to fill in the blanks. As Dr. Cornelius looked at the screen, he could imagine the howls and snarls of the wolves. He tried not to wonder if X-23 was screaming.

On screen, there was a particularly long spray of bright blood and then something dark and bulky and roughly triangular in shape rolled loose from the battle. It took Dr. Cornelius a moment to figure out that it was the head of one of the younger wolves.

"She's performing even better than we hoped," Professor Thornton mused critically as he examined the screen.

On screen, another badly injured wolf was staggering around the swirl of combat, looking for an opening that would allow him to lunge into the fight at a critical moment. He was ignoring the intestines that he was dragging behind him. On some savage level the wolf already knew that he was dead and had accepted that fact. So that really didn't matter to him. What mattered most - what had always mattered most - was the survival of the pack.

"I do believe that it is time to let our little angel fly on her own," continued the Professor.

Dr. Cornelius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't particularly like the Professor. However, Cornelius knew that he would be in prison if the Professor hadn't pulled some strings. And for that matter, it was entirely possible that if the Professor pulled a few more strings, then the authorities might suddenly rediscover all of that missing evidence about those morally questionable - and fatal - human experiments that Cornelius had performed at Berkley.

So Dr. Cornelius didn't like the Professor, but he did both respect and fear him. And that made disagreeing with the Professor an uncomfortable experience. But at the same time, Cornelius' usefulness to the Professor was based on his considerable intelligence and expertise. If Cornelius stopped providing expert opinions, then his usefulness might come to an end. Cornelius suspected that if his usefulness to the Professor came to an end, then Cornelius might find himself in Soledad prison, and that would never do.

"We should be careful," Cornelius said cautiously. "A test outside of the facility will have to be closely monitored."

The Professor nodded wordlessly, his eyes still glued to the display screen.

The pack leader was worthy of his position. He lasted the longest against X-23. In fact, he had her down on the ground and was tearing at her throat with his teeth until she finally managed to jam a pair of her claws through the side of his skull. The wolf released her throat and jerked convulsively upwards as his fatally damaged brain sent a torrent of contradictory signals to his body.

After a long pause, X-23 staggered to her feet, using the body of the dead pack leader for leverage as she stood. She was covered in blood and her black outfit was shredded. Pine needles and small clumps of red and white snow were tangled in her long dark hair. She was breathing heavily and white steam gushed from her mouth, partially-concealing her face. As they watched, the blood gushing from her throat and down her front, began to visibly slow as she regenerated. But her claws were still out. And for a split second, all conversation and other activity in the control room stopped as the men and women inside looked at their creation.

"Eleven years old," Cornelius said in a hushed voice.

"Imagine what she will be able to do when she comes to maturity!" exulted the Professor.

Cornelius glanced at the Professor and said softly, "I'm trying not to."

The radio squawked as the heavily armed team of Wranglers carefully moved into position. It was their job to escort X-23 back to her cell, and nobody envied them that particular job. The Wranglers were simultaneously approaching from three directions as they converged on X-23. The three squad leaders issued terse orders and kept track of each other over their helmet radios as they counted down the range until contact.

Of course, X-23 sensed them coming. And as always, there was that long breathless moment while the Wranglers and the observers in the control room wondered just how she would react. Normally, X-23 was cooperative - almost strangely so. But after a fight like this, she could be unpredictable. Previously, there had been... incidents.

"Easy, honey," they could hear one of the squad leaders whisper mostly to himself. He'd forgotten to turn off his chin microphone. "That's right. Be a good girl. Nice. And. Easy. Darling."

X-23 looked around as the three groups of Wranglers materialized almost simultaneously from the tree-line and into the red, white, and green meadow. By now almost all of her wounds had completely healed and she wasn't even breathing hard. X-23 seemed to consider the situation - and then retracted her claws.

Everyone released the breath that they had been holding.

A couple of heavily-armored Wranglers approached her with a massive metal collar. X-23 stood motionless and did nothing, her face passive, as they locked the collar around her neck. The two Wranglers attached two long metal poles to eye-bolts on the sides of the collar, and then they began using the poles to guide X-23 back into the facility.

The Professor suddenly frowned and looked at Cornelius, "Did you say, 'eleven years old'? Is that correct?"

"Today's her birthday," Cornelius said in a completely neutral tone.

"They grow up so quickly," The Professor said with a shake of his head.

It was late and Dr. Cornelius was drunk.

All too often, and with increasing frequency, Cornelius would retire to his quarters at the end of the day and spend the evening making close acquaintance with a bottle of rye whiskey. He knew it was becoming a problem. And he knew that if the Professor found out, it might become more than just a "problem." The Professor wasn't really big on human frailty, and he didn't have a forgiving nature. But at least for the moment, the situation wasn't exactly out of control. And besides, he only had a couple of bottles left, and it would be two months before they were re-provisioned. In about a week, Cornelius would run out of whiskey and the problem would go into abeyance.

But for right now, Dr. Cornelius was pretty drunk.

Putting down his glass, Cornelius heaved himself out of his easy chair and walked over to his desk. His quarters were startlingly small and Spartan. Again, that was the Professor's influence. He didn't see why human beings might need something as trifling as luxury while they were isolated for months at a time in the middle of nowhere, doing slightly-insane experiments on involuntary human test subjects.

At his desk, Cornelius punched a few keys on his computer. The formal report on this afternoon's "live test" came up. Cornelius read the first few paragraphs and then quit. He already knew what it was going to say.

X-23 was a success. And she was ready to be put to work. Cornelius briefly wondered who X-23's first target would be. But even after all this time, Cornelius wasn't entirely sure who was actually paying the bills for the Weapon-X project. The smart money was on the Americans - with Canadian and NATO support. But he really didn't know that for a fact. For all he knew, the Chinese or HYDRA or even the Saudis might end up being the ones who picked X-23's targets.

Rubbing a slightly pudgy hand through his hair, Cornelius considered giving Dr. Hines a call and asking her if she wanted some company. Who would have thought that such a quiet and unobtrusive woman would have such a voracious appetite for sex? Rumor had it that she had screwed almost all of the security force and was delivering coffee and a blow-job every morning to Professor Thornton - an otherwise almost inconceivable concept.

Cornelius sighed and rubbed his eyes. Actually, he suspected that Hines' nymphomania was just as much a coping strategy for her as whiskey was for him. This place did things like that to people.

The next phase of the program would be to continue the development of what the Professor called "the X-23 line." Cornelius assumed that X-23 didn't know that she had sisters, but she did. They were currently in suspended animation in the facility's cryogenic laboratory. Cornelius strongly suspected he would be getting the orders to wake up X-24, X-25, X-26, and X-27 sometime in the next few weeks. And then the project would continue on and on and on...

Actually, Cornelius had been secretly hoping that the project would fail. That was about the only way he could foresee himself ever getting free of it.

It was morning by now. Early morning. And Dr. Cornelius was still drunk. But he was on the downside of this particular binge and he wasn't having any problems looking normal as he walked towards the holding block.

"Hey, doc," a guard said as he handed Cornelius an electronic device. If Cornelius wanted to get into the cells, he had to sign in.

"How's it going, Les?" Cornelius said absently as he shifted a package under his arm and awkwardly scrawled his signature onto the gray plastic screen of the device. Then he handed the device back to the guard.

"Fine. Hey, they got ya work'n awful late," the guard responded idly as he punched some buttons on the device.

Cornelius shrugged as casually as possible, "Lots to do. I just wanted to take care of some last minute details."

The guard nodded and then hesitated and pointed at the package under Cornelius's arm. "What'cha got there, doc?"

Dr. Cornelius shifted the box into one hand and opened it up, "Something for my sweet tooth. Sorry, Les. I wasn't thinking. I should have brought you one."

The guard grinned, "Nah, don't worry about it, doc. I gotta watch my weight if I wanna have a shot at a promotion. There's a Sergeant's slot opening up."

Cornelius nodded amiably, "Good luck with that."

"Thanks, doc!"

The alarm kicked in as the door - as massive as a bank vault - ponderously swung open. The alarm continued to sound as Cornelius walked into the holding block, and it didn't stop until the huge door finally swung shut behind him.

The interior guard nodded at Cornelius, but didn't say anything. He was relatively new and Cornelius hadn't got to know him yet.

"X-23's cell," Cornelius said to the guard as he made a show of fumbling with a PDA that he had pulled out of his pocket.

The guard nodded again and then unlocked a far smaller, but still impressive, inner door. He then escorted Cornelius into the actual block - making sure that the door was shut behind them.

It was exactly 23 paces from the inner door to X-23's cell. Cornelius had noticed the coincidence several months ago. Now, he couldn't help but count his paces every time he went to her cell. At the cell, both Cornelius and the guard put their hands on a sensor that read their prints. Two set of approved prints were required to open the door.

The door swung open and revealed what Dr. Cornelius had always called "The White Room."

The floor was made of some kind of white rubbery material over concrete. The walls and ceiling were also concrete, and were painted stark white. Light was provided by white fluorescent bulbs set into white, armored fixtures. They were on twenty-four hours a day - actually, there was no way to turn them off. The only furniture in the White Room was a knee-high bench upholstered with white padding. A sliding panel on the far wall concealed a white toilet. The panel automatically opened up three times a day and the toilet slid into the room. It stayed in the room for exactly five minutes and then withdrew.

X-23 was huddled in the far corner of the room. She was wearing a white hospital gown. Her black hair was a considerable contrast to the rest of the room. Her green eyes were spots of oddly visible color as she peered at them through the shroud of her hair.

The White Room was something that the Professor insisted upon, but didn't explain. Cornelius suspected it was intended to help keep X-23 tractable by giving her as little stimulation as possible for most of the day. Cornelius had to admit that it seemed to work. There had never been an "incident" with X-23 when she was in her cell.

"I don't need you," Cornelius said to the guard, trying to keep his voice casual. The guard hesitated - he was supposed to always stay in the room when one of the prisoners had a visitor. But the guards weren't stupid. They knew that spending as little time as possible with X-23 was a good idea.

Still without a word, the guard left the room. Cornelius carefully shut the door behind him. Cornelius knew that he was taking a chance, but he would be able to get to the security camera footage when his shift started and make the necessary adjustments. He had done this before.

"Come here," he said to X-23 as he sat down on the bench. She unhesitatingly stood up and walked over to him. Then she sat down on the bench beside Cornelius. It always struck Cornelius how small she was - in the bottom five percentiles for a girl her age. He loomed over her like a giant, but there was no question that she could kill him in a heartbeat if she decided to.

Cornelius stuck a thermometer into X-23's mouth and then took her pulse. After a minute or so, he took out the thermometer, peered at it, and made some notes in his PDA. Then he used a small implement to take a blood sample from her fingertip. After that, he put the tiny vial of blood into a jacket of his lab coat. It was all more-or-less standard procedure. In fact, he was scheduled to do exactly this - about six hours from now.

"Do you know what yesterday was?" Cornelius asked.

The girl seemed to think that over and then shook her head.

Cornelius tried not to consider the fact that this girl apparently didn't think that a horrifying battle with a pack of blood-maddened animals was noteworthy.

"It was your birthday," Cornelius said gently.

X-23 blinked. She recognized that word. And then a very small smile appeared on her face.

Opening up the small box that was sitting on the bench next to him, Cornelius took out the cupcake and handed it the girl. She grinned at him in delight and immediately began devouring it with small, precise bites.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you," Cornelius sang softly as he stroked her hair. "Happy birthday, dear Laura. Happy birthday to you."

It was hard, but somehow he managed to choke out the last few words.