The walls were clear mostly, in that way they gave the illusion of space but the illusion was easily shattered every time he stretched his sinewy arms and his clawed hands hit the six-inch thick shatterproof glass. There was no free space here, nor any privacy. There were times when he pondered how those in solitary confinement got more privacy than those in this section of the prison, as though they were being punished for the act of obeying and not lashing out.
He sat on his cot, covered at least with a soft green blanket and sheets. That had been a cruel joke. He'd failed the psych evaluation when he was committed here, a 'suicide risk' they called him. Normally that would disqualify one from blankets and sheets, materials that could easily be used to asphyxiate oneself, but the guard had laughed and piled them into his cuffed arms despite the evaluation results with the mocking words "He can't kill himself that way anyways, he's immortal." Michael tried hard not to hate the man, he spoke the truth after all, and it turns out the blankets were a small comfort in this uncomfortable place. He hated the cold, and had since the accident some forty years ago now.
As three heavily suited guards walked by he banged on the glass. They always looked like some sort of sci-fi action heroes to him, men in sheet metal armor and armed with guns that made the army's tech look medieval by comparison. But of course, Pym had built this place. "Hey! Hey!" He shouted through the small metal-grated covering allowing him to be heard in the hall. "It is lunchtime.. I need my food!" The intent was to sound dignified but it was lost with the power imbalance inherent in this situation. They were paid, he was a criminal. They couldn't care less whether he got fed or not. His large mutated ears twitched at a noise as the security detail shrugged and walked off, the movement that often happened without any conscious thought. Curt was awake, probably for lunch, the man in the cell next to his spent far too much time sleeping for Michael's taste but when he was awake the two could talk thanks to his ability to sense vibrations and Michael's own superhuman hearing. "Curt? you are up? Lunch is late.. I.." He heard a crunch, and a soft desperate squeak of a mouse's last plea for life. "Never mind, you have been fed. Why have I not been given my meal?" He huffed and sagged against the wall that divided the two enclosures.
"You have an appointment.. I heard the guardsss talking while you were asssleep." Curt crawled to the adjoining wall and sat, picking up another live mouse, taking this one whole into his maw and swallowing it. It fought a futile battle on the way down.
Michael turned his head to the side, one bat-like ear against the insulated tile. "So they are starving me for an appointment? Another want-to-be hero calling himself a doctor and taking my blood from behind safety bars I suppose? Wonderful. I don't get fed enough as it is. They keep taking blood and running cell samples and I'll go feral. How are you holding up old friend? It has been what, a month for you now?" He didn't smile but it was meant to be a joke. They had both been captured the same day, Morbius transferred here first, then Spider-man went back to catch the Lizard. It was his fault Michael was even here but he didn't blame Curt. With that man's accident there had been a split, two personalities, one body. He knew the Lizard caused Michael to be incarcerated that day but the man was mentally Curt now and he was one of the few that knew.
"It hasss been a month for you asss well. At least you are allowed ssscience journals and bookss. Ssspeak with me today."
"It is always a pleasure to talk with you doctor, would you like to hear about the newest breakthroughs that have been made with artificial peptide ch.."
"No, tell me a ssstory. One of your life before you came here. I am feeling less human today and I want to remember what it isss like."
His ear twitched again as though it was swatting an invisible insect and he sighed. "Very well, I will tell you of my wife, if that suits you. She is the only part of my human life I remember anymore."
Curt didn't respond. He curled up on the floor to listen as was his custom when he goaded Michael into speaking. Normally he stuck to professional subjects, chemistry, battles he'd had, music. He'd even sung once purely for Curt's benefit, simply because he had mentioned how long it had been since he heard music. Michael cleared his throat and continued. "Martine was a smart and brilliant woman, not in the way that we are brilliant, because we are actually fools. There were no plaques and accolades for her but she had the keen ability to be able to find the best in everything, even me. One joke and despite my troubles I would smile for her always, I would do anything she asked. Had she ever wanted the world on its knees I would have done my best to conquer it, but she would never ask such a thing." *He chuckled a little as a tear ran down his cheek, the words becoming quieter. "When I decided to stay away from her I thought it for the best. I thought I was dangerous, that she was fragile. I was wrong. She was strong and I was weak. That's why she sought out that doctor and found me in that abandoned building.. That's why she died in my arms. If I were a stronger man I wouldn't have run, I would have gone to her and protected her."
"It wassn't your fault Michael." Curt felt he had to speak up. Michael was obviously breaking down, weak indeed. "I have lossst my own family to this blassssted Lizard. I am sure she was lovely, but that iss in the passst Michael. Losss is pain.."
"Women are made of pain.." *He let the words slip as the rush of air hissed from beside him. The cell wall receded into the ceiling and there stood three guards, all aimed and one carrying the superhuman restraints he was accustomed to at this point. Behind the guards stepped a woman in civilian clothes carrying a clipboard. Her hair was the kind of red that you could only find in a bottle or on an unripe tomato, cut short and curled a bit at her neck. She was simply but professionally dressed in a suit jacket with skirt in mid tone grey, the sweater underneath a forest green and fuzzy. She wore glasses and tapped her pen impatiently on the paper as she spoke, the lines at the corners of her eyes scrunched in focus. "Doctor Morbius? It is time for your session."
He stayed where he was, taking in every detail and refusing to move. "I haven't been fed yet..."
"Your midday meal will be fed to you at my office. It is already waiting." She finally glanced up looking over his claws and white-grey skin. She didn't show any hint of nervousness and her voice had the flat affect of someone far removed from concerns of the situation. It was as though she were reading a poem with rehearsed precision.
"I don't need more blood tests.. I have been studied enough. You know no more than I could discover on my own. I am the world's foremost biochemist you know. It would be much more productive to give me my own labora.."
"This will be a psychological exam."
In the cell one over Curt listened and laughed. He could hear Michael's ego breaking, as he could each day with the indignities of life in a supervillain prison and it was hard not to see the humor in it. There was so little humor to go around.
"Oh.. one of those." Michael spat the words onto the ground in condemnation. Psychology, the refuse of the science world. He chose his next words carefully. "I would rather forego the evaluation. You already have my one from S.H.I.E.L.D., I refuse to participate.."
The woman tapped her pen again, making Michael start to wonder if it wasn't a nervous tell of hers. The guards just stood poised, as unmoving as gargoyles as she spoke. "So far Dr. Morbius you have a pattern of good behavior, it would be a shame to break it over something so trivial, but if you insist I could make a mark on your file, it will extend your sentence of course.."
He cut her off with an angry growl. "I have no sentence, no release date! I have no reason to cooperate as I do so if you are trying to blackmail me into an evaluation you can save yourself the trouble!"
She flipped through her papers, skimming for the right data. "Oh." The silence hung in the air as Morbius looked over at her with his arms folded around his knees, still seated on the floor. The orange shirt the prison had given him stayed on the desk of his cell and he wore only the pants, no shoes as they bothered his claws. He prayed he looked intimidating, he was a fit man at least and his more monstrous features tended to scare others, but much to his surprise she looked up unfazed. "Bribery then?"
"What?!" He showed his teeth as his jaw slacked a bit in surprise. "You want to bribe me.. to evaluate me?"
"Yes. what do you need? More books? They have said you seem to get bored easily. Music? I could have some piped in daily through the speakers.."
"Blood." He replied without a hint of emotion. "They don't feed me enough. I'm in pain."
She tapped her pen again and nodded. "I can probably swing that, if you cooperate with me. Now, the restraints."
The guards moved and he considered lashing out. He'd taken one out before the tasers hit him when he was brought in, had his teeth deep in the man's neck after he'd ripped off the armor, but instead he held out his arms and allowed the cuffs. The men still showed caution as they applied the restraints and walked with him. out into the hall. He glanced into her eyes for a second before the guard tapped him with a stick taser. "Eyes down!"
He hissed at the loud zap and stinging pain and she lifted her arms up, still holding the clipboard as she yelled out. "None of that! I read the file, he wasn't trying a mental hold and you're only making the situation worse. He's under watch and security is active. Stop."
Michael calmed but kept his eyes down at the floor as he walked, the guard huffed and followed her orders. She was obviously in charge for now and the woman continued down the hall ahead of them. Her heels clicking on the floor tile. Whatever kind of psych evaluation this was Morbius was now more than a bit intimidated by this woman, but if she could get him more blood he was willing to risk it.
He gulped down a forceful swallow of air and thought to himself. This wasn't going to end well.