MONSTERS IN THE LAB

It was long past midnight in the laboratory, but madness doesn't really seem to need a lot of sleep.

Frowning in concentration, Sinister attached the last of a series of probes to Archangel's bare skull. After glancing up at the computer monitor, Sinister nodded to himself in silent satisfaction: the modified electro-sleep mechanism was functioning properly. Archangel's brain was operating at a very low level, but his EEG readings were quite stable. Everything was comfortably within parameters. The subject was at rest and incapable of movement, but should still able to respond to certain limited forms of stimuli.

Archangel was laying silent and still, naked on a stainless steel surgical table. His strangely solid-white eyes were unblinkingly open, but they seemed to be staring up at nothing. The metallic wings that had replaced his amputated wings were draped over the sides of the table. Thick chains encircled them, and the chains that were attached to steel rings set into the concrete floor.

Standing uneasily next to the laboratory door, Vertigo warily watched Sinister work. It was established protocol that at least one of Sinister's enforcers should be present whenever he was working with a particularly dangerous laboratory subject. And since Archangel was about as dangerous as it got, it made complete sense that Sinister wanted someone else to be present. However, pulling guard duty in the lab was the job that absolutely none of Sinister's Marauders wanted. Dangerous and horrifying experiments were a common occurrence in the lab. And more than a few such "experiments" ended with Sinister saying, "Kill it."

And even worse, there was the nagging fear that if Sinister got particularly enthusiastic about his work, he might use whatever - or whoever - was at hand in order to finish the experiment. Nobody liked to consider that possibility.

But even the worst jobs sometimes had an unexpected plus side, Vertigo thought to herself as her eyes wandered over Archangel's naked body.

Sinister suddenly looked towards Vertigo, smiled at her, and said off-handedly, "I've always felt that he is my finest creation."

Realizing that she had been caught staring at Archangel, Vertigo looked away. "Yes. I mean... yes, sir!"

"And you think he is beautiful, do you not?" Sinister said softly as he ran a proprietary hand along the wiry musculature of Archangel's thigh.

"Uhm... I wasn't..." Vertigo stammered.

"Answer the question," Sinister said flatly.

Suddenly aware that she was in trouble, Vertigo swallowed hard and decided to err on the side of honesty, "Yes, sir. He's very beautiful, sir."

"Come closer, my dear," Sinister ordered mildly. And that was enough to give Vertigo a horribly hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sinister tended to be soft-spoken and polite - he had apparently long since realized that truly terrifying people don't need to rant. But sometimes Sinister became too quiet and too polite, and he was at that point right now.

For a split-second, Vertigo actually considered the unthinkable. But in the end, she knew that running away was just a fantasy. There was nowhere to go and obedience was really the only option. You never merely worked for Sinister. Eventually, he always ended up owning you.

Vertigo didn't try to hide her fear as she walked slowly towards the table. Sometimes that was enough. As long as Sinister knew that he was feared, he was willing to tolerate a few small mistakes. But God help you if you made a big mistake - like leading a particularly dangerous X-Man right to one of Sinister's bases.

Nothing had ever been said to Vertigo about that incident. And she had dared to hope that it had been forgotten.

Sinister placed a gloved hand on Warren's bare chest, his thumb absent-mindedly tracing the curve of one of Warren's nipples. For a long moment, Sinister seemed lost in contemplation as he stared down at the creation he called Archangel. Then he looked up at Vertigo and said, "I insist that correct scientific detachment be adhered to in my laboratory. We cannot give in to base urges. This is a place of pure rationality. Do you understand, Vertigo?"

"Yes, sir," whispered Vertigo. Sinister nodded understandingly, and Vertigo began to relax. Then Sinister calmly reached over, grabbed a handful of spiky green hair, and slammed Vertigo face-first into the steel table.

When Vertigo awoke, she could taste her own blood. And then she almost panicked at the thought that she was chained naked and helpless to a table - just like Archangel. However, that wasn't the case. Instead, she was sitting on the floor and handcuffed to a wall stanchion. There was some kind of metal collar around her neck.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," Sinister said absently. He put aside the leather-bound journal in which he had been writing some notes. Sinister was fully conversant with the most advanced technology that the early twenty-first century had to offer, but he still did some things the traditional way.

"I... sir..." Vertigo said disjointedly. She had a black eye, a bloody nose, and a long purple welt on her forehead. She reached up and grabbed the collar that circled her neck.

Crouching next to her, Sinister gently touched a fingertip to Vertigo's lips.

"There's really nothing for you to say, my dear."

Vertigo feel silent, her panicky eyes flickering around the lab - as if she were looking for a way to escape.

"I have been very disappointed with your work of late," Sinister continued. "And suitable disciplinary action is required. I have decided to combine that particular bit of unfinished business with another requirement."

Vertigo licked her lips. She was frantic, but instinct told her that she better be silent.

"You are going to help me with an experiment," Sinister continued as he stood up.

Vertigo closed her eyes and whimpered.

"My precious Archangel still has much of Warren Worthington left in him," Sinister mused thoughtfully - almost as if he were talking to himself. "And whatever else he might have been, Warren Worthington was a brave and determined man. Every now and then, despite all of the conditioning and personality-overlays that I have performed on Archangel, some elements of Worthington's personality will occasionally surface. To say the least, that is most annoying."

Vertigo didn't really exactly understand everything that Sinister was saying, but she got the gist of it.

"I need to map the extent of Worthington's remaining personality," Sinister continued to lecture as he punched some commands into a keyboard. "And I believe I can do that by exposing Archangel to stressful stimuli of a psychological nature. I can then measure how Archangel's brain reacts to such stimuli. Like many of his kind, Worthington considered himself something of a hero - he wanted to save others. A traditional male with such a personality tends to react strongly to a women in distress."

Sinister carefully examined the displays that were graphing Archangel's brain patterns. Then he looked back at Vertigo.

"The collar you are wearing conducts an electrical charge directly to the pain receptors of the brain. I've never really had an opportunity to test the device till now, but it should have the desired effect. Your chances of dying or suffering permanent mental injury are really quite small."

Vertigo began to sob.

"I need you to scream, my dear," Sinister finished calmly as he picked up the control for the device that was attached to Vertigo's neck.

And then Sinister pushed a button on the control.

Dawn was breaking as Sinister finished recording a long set of observations in his journal. After closing the book, he put down his pen and tiredly rubbed his eyes. Vertigo had long since been removed from Sinister's presence. Arclight had been silent, his face ashen and drawn, as he dragged the unconscious woman out of the laboratory.

At least that part of the exercise was a complete success, Sinister reflected to himself. His Marauder's had been reminded that failure carried a terrible price. Unfortunately, the main element of the experiment had been less successful. Sinister had run the experiment for several hours longer than he had originally planned. Towards the end, Vertigo couldn't even scream any longer. She could only croak and moan. But despite his best efforts, Sinister still hadn't been able to measure just how much of Warren Worthington lingered in his precious Archangel. Sinister's instruments had returned nothing but ambiguous data.

Sinister sighed to himself, and then his frustration drove him to actually speak aloud, "What is it, Warren? Why do you persist in maintaining a small fragment of yourself? Why don't you simply go away and leave me with my Archangel?"

Angrily flipping open his notebook again, Sinister began recording another stray thought.

"Uhhhhn..."

Sinister blinked in surprise and looked up from his book. That sound. It had come from Archangel. Which was impossible.

"Un..."

Yes, it was definitely coming from Archangel. Quickly walking over to the table, Sinister scanned the monitor screen and then examined Archangel's vital signs. His pulse was steady. His eyes were still open, but they still didn't seem to be looking at anything. The electro-sleep device was functioning and Archangel wasn't truly conscious. However, there was considerable brainwave activity on a very low and primitive level. None of that made any particular sense. Archangel shouldn't be able to do anything.

"Un..." Archangel repeated slowly.

Sinister leaned forward, his ear just a few inches away from Warren's mouth.

"Un... finished b... b... business," Warren stuttered softly.

Sinister frowned. That was a phrase he had used while just before correcting Vertigo for her failures. Was Archangel merely parroting something he had heard earlier?

"Unfinished business," Warren repeated.

Then it occurred to Sinister that Archangel, or Warren, or some fusion of the two, was trying to answer the question that Sinister had just asked.

"Is that why you are still here, Warren? Unfinished business?" Sinister asked slowly and clearly. He wasn't sure how well Archangel could discern what he was saying.

"Y... yessss," Warren hissed.

"And what unfinished business is that?" Sinister asked, looking directly into Archangel's face.

An unbidden awareness finally crept into Warren's eyes and he smiled savagely up at Sinister.

"Kill you," Warren said clearly, his eyes were now hot, bright, and eager.

For a long, frozen moment, Sinister looked down at his greatest creation. His ultimate killing machine. And then he swallowed hard and his eyes quickly flicked over the various bonds that kept Archangel or Warren or whatever the hell it was that was chained to that table secure. They seemed to be intact.

"Scream for me," Archangel said in a voice that was so low and soft that it seemed almost sensuous - and the chains rattled as his wings stirred. And then he laughed.

Sinister carefully backed away from the table and towards the laboratory door.

"Scream for me and scream for Archangel. And scream and scream and scream..." whispered the thing on the table as the laboratory's door slammed shut.

And then the voice seemed to change, becoming less harsh and metallic.

"Help me. Ororo. Please. Please help me."

But the laboratory was empty, and there was nobody to hear.