Chapter 2: "Trust"
I don't even touch the door before I hear 'Come in, the door is open' in my head. The old door creaks too low for anyone else to hear as I open it. He motions for me to sit down.
I feel so small in the chair. Not really physically, though my feet don't touch the floor, more like defenseless, out of control. It isn't a pleasant feeling.
"Hello, Elise. I see you've changed your mind since this morning?"
You would know.
"Yeah, I guess. Trial-basis-only sorta deal."
He nods and folds his hands. "Fair enough. But if you don't trust me, I can't help you. Do you trust me?"
I squirm in my seat. "Well, you haven't done anything to make me not trust you, so I guess I'm gonna give this a shot."
"That's a start. Now," he wheels his chair around to my side of his desk and loosens up. "Is there anything specific you'd like to discuss?"
I shrug, "You're the expert, what should we talk about?"
"What have your nightmares been about these past few days?"
I look down. "Various things, but mostly… you know."
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Oh, come on! Don't play dumb with me! You read minds, isn't it obvious?"
Without letting his volume or tone sound anything other than professional, he chews me out, "Let us get this clear, for I fear you may never truly trust me if we do not: Just because I can read my students' minds does not mean that I do. I expend every effort to assure as much privacy as possible for everyone as I can. Even if I inevitably hear some occasional mental chatter, I do not go actively looking through peoples' minds without their knowledge and permission."
I recoil and blush, "Sorry. I was out of line."
He smiles gently, "Apology accepted. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
"Uh, I meant the um, the getting captured and stuff," I mumble.
"I suppose we should start from the beginning, how did you get captured?"
I think for a moment, and it all comes back. Clear as day.
"No, Dr. Smith, look what you've done! If the vector virus infects the rat now it will surely kill it," I hiss. Damn newbie never listens unless you threaten to rip his head off. Which I have, among other things.
Come to think of it, I really was a bitch back then.
"I had this job as a geneticist, head of a special project. We were trying to cure genetic diseases- or so I was told. I wanted to help people, but I really ended up hating that job. And everyone in it."
In my defense, I'd been having a REALLY shitty decade. Couldn't stomach going to war again. Besides, after three major wars I figured I earned the right to sit one out. James still went, though. I spent years alone; even went to college near the beginning. But I was stupid and almost got myself thrown in jail for decades for something I didn't mean to do.
Yeah, so the police kinda don't like finding illegal fireworks and other pyrotechnics in your trunk when you have to go to a government building.
Then, this government guy came along and told me he could make all the charges disappear if I joined his team. Met up with Logan there, apparently he got roped in, too. Team X wasn't anywhere near what he sold it to us as. Bradley and Wraith were okay, but this other feral Victor was a complete psychopath, and Wade kept hitting on me. Maverick wasn't particularly amused when I stabbed Wade with his own kantana. Said it was counter-whatever to team cohesiveness or something. I honestly couldn't hear over Vic laughing.
Even though some of the team members were hard to live with, I was the happiest I'd been in years. However, once the team stopped trying to kill each other every hour our government liaison started sending us on 'more important' missions. The adrenaline rushes were fun, I'll never deny that. It was fun to let loose and let the animal play. But then, James and I had a bit of a falling out, you could call it. I left, don't know how long he stayed on.
"See, Ja- um, Logan and I had previously been part of this special ops team called Team X. It was the best job and some of the best friends ever until Logan and I really couldn't see eye to eye on something. I left."
James decided I was too much of a girl to do the dirty work of the team or some shit, that I shouldn't try to be like him. Well fuck him! So I left and I got this job and I hate it I hate all my coworkers and my underlings and I hate how everything smells so burning clean and-
"Graaagh!" I slam my fist into the elevator wall and the minor pain brings me back to reality. Tears burn in my eyes.
Weak. Stupid girl.
"So yeah, I hated my job. But my boss practically let me get away with murder – not literally, of course." Not that I tested that, anyway. "So I stayed."
I pull myself together as the elevator dings. It's not my floor. The doors open and my boss comes in. I guess I like the guy. He lets me get away with anything. He even laughed about it when I carried around a lunchbox marked 'human head' and some of my coworkers complained.
"Hello, Miss Howlett. How is your project coming along?"
"Very well. We've been able to use the vector viruses to force fur color mutations in rats so far. I believe if we can engineer the gene for it, we will soon be able to force any mutation we wish."
"Are you ready for human trials, then?"
"No. While in theory the procedure would work, I don't believe we know enough about the human genome yet to be safe. If we put one wrong base in the virus or made it attach to the wrong loci, it could cause a horrible mutation, even death." I don't know why anyone would volunteer for that sort of procedure anyway. The side effects can be a real bitch even IF the procedure ends up successful. 'If' because currently it's more of an art than a science.
But think of all the genetic disorders this could cure! It could eradicate Huntington's and other diseases before the person even gets symptoms. Doesn't that make all the potential failure worth it?
Maybe.
He nods apathetically, "Very well. I will put more geneticists on the project." The elevator stops at my floor; I exit.
The rest of the day goes by in a zero-fucks-were-given blur. More tests, more yelling at the underlings, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
The oak leaves crunch under my feet and release a sweet scent as I walk out to my car. They're the only beautiful things in the complex. Everything else is cold, lifeless metal and plastic. I'd rather stay away from such beauty, I think to myself as I turn the ignition key. It reminds me too much of everything I miss.
"I still hid what I am from everyone, even – especially- my boss. Call it instinct, I guess. Not long after I'd decided to do that, mutants became science's next big thing. There wasn't so much fear in my lab, more like dark curiosity."
I'm different, I know. I've always been different. Things are changing, though. They call people like me mutants now, in response to the discovery that special abilities like mine are caused by a mutated gene, an X-gene, they call it.
"I hated the word 'mutant'. Whenever one was discussed in the lab, it was like they were discussing a new animal or an alien. Something to dissect. Something less than human."
Mutant: Such a revolting word. My coworkers say how much they wish they could try to map the genome of one, see how different it is from that of a human. Funny, years ago they were saying the exact same thing about the damn rats.
I slam the door to my small, one bedroom, house and scream, "Is that all I am to you?!"
Throwing my things in the nearest corner, I light up my first one of the night. It'll take plenty more, with my current agitation and healing power, to mellow me out. I exhale a puff of smoke and sigh.
"Nothing but a fucking rat."
"I had no friends, didn't talk to a single person outside of work. I had experimented with all sorts of things before; when you have a healing factor you really don't worry too much about the health consequences of anything. Anyway, eventually I found that the only way I could get any sleep most nights was to use massive amounts of whatever placating drug I could get my hands on."
I was pitiful.
