*HxH Disclaimer*
Author's Notes: Well, I'm back! And I'm quite over the moon with the bunch of reviews that I've been getting! :D It's quite surprising given the remark that I said last chapter about my own fic. xD But I'm not complaining! Thanks to Bai-Feng, guest reader, complicatedmind21, ShenEna, Florallover, and LordoftheWest for your feedback. They warm the heart. ^o^
Again, don't hesitate to give feedback! :D I appreciate the support. ^^ Here be the seventh chapter. ^^
Living Things
By: DW-chan
Seven: Phase Two
Slightly bemused, Zan Tournay turned to the Kurata man in front of him. "Well, that was quite the family reunion. Took all of two hours." His tried to sound pleasant.
"We have agreed that this is a priority," replied Ianto firmly. Kurapica and Sianni were closely behind, respectfully giving Ianto the reigns. Kurapica glanced at his father's clone—no, his father—with a renewed sense of vigor. He had missed his father's way of governing a situation, as the man had always retreated to his quiet, gentle ways.
"I see that your memories have lucratively integrated into your system," said Tournay, visibly gratified. "I'm now more than inclined to address you as—let's see—" Tournay glanced at his tablet. "Ah, so I am graced by the good presence of Ianto and Sianni." His toothy smile showed itself again.
"Zan, I don't see why they can't have a look at the rest of their clanspeople," Barrow interjected himself gracefully enough into the conversation. He nodded to the Kuratans; he rested a gentle gaze on Kurapica.
"Yes, yes, Francis. You've been pestering me about their rights," Zan affably waved a hand at him once. "Every living being has their rights, yes?" Without skipping a beat, the older scientist turned to Ianto; the latter seemed to waver a bit, but quickly regained his composure.
Kurapica saw how much his father was trying his best to brave the situation. He and his mother, after all, were in an unfamiliar place, in a world they had only conceived in hushed talk and dubious voices, with unfamiliar people, among sights which they were seeing for the very first time. His mother had her hand slightly above her belly again, showing in that gesture that she was worried while her face remained placid.
"Well then, follow me," Tournay said, rather jovially. He nodded to Barrow, but the latter waited for the family to advance before he walked after them. Ryger, and then Dr. Meeks—the only female scientist in the team—followed a distance behind. There was something quite robotic about their movements; the only sign that showed that they were human was that they were slightly cautious. They seemed, as always, to be following a certain protocol.
They stepped once again in the large viewing room, with its high ceiling and its softly lit tungsten lamps. However, the reservatory below had already been lit, and there, in forty arrayed silver-and-clear capsules, were the sleeping Kurata clones.
Kurapica felt softness grip at one of his hands. He saw that it was his mother; she had taken his hand in reflex. The calm had washed away from Sianni's face. "Ianto, there they are—" her voice was hoarse.
Ianto was taking deep, meditative breaths, as if he himself was mustering a level of calm. He turned to neither of the scientists that were in the room when he said, "Are they well?"
"Indeed, well as well can be! As we've told Kurapica, they are merely sleeping, that's all."
"When will you wake them?" inquired the Kurata man, his voice overwrought.
"Eventually, we will wake everyone," stated Tournay. "We go through the Project phase by phase, young man."
Ianto's face indicated that he wasn't sure if he agreed with Tournay's way of calling him, much as Kurapica was less partial of being called "my boy."
"This so-called Project," Ianto continued. It was then when he turned to the white-gowned men and woman before him. "You do know what you are doing?"
"Certainly!"
Ianto, somehow, did not appear convinced. Kurapica could see a strange light in his father's eyes. They had retained their sharp, grey hue, but it was if his father was looking into the face of each and every sleeping Kurata in their capsules, clearly remembering their faces. On the other hand, his mother never ceased her grip on his hand.
It was then when Kurapica felt a sense of uneasiness. He had always kept his Nen chains on his right hand. For his mother to clasp her hand around where the familiar feel of chains had always been brought him a gnawing sense of discord.
Judgment Chain, came the unbidden thought. His parents knew nothing of his vow.
Ianto seemed pensive for a while, crossing his arms, but that didn't last long. After a moment, he turned to the scientists. In a voice that held both displeasure and dark curiosity, he told them, and it resembled more of a command: "You will explain everything."
Tournay was about to speak, but Barrow impeded the other man's initiative with a look of calm request. "Let me, Zan," the younger man said.
Tournay didn't seem to accede at first; a slight tension filled the air as the two scientists held a small battle of wills. Soon, Tournay held his gaze down for a fraction of second in reluctant assent. It was then did the man's smile disappeared, though amusement shone in his eyes. Finally, Tournay nodded.
That was when Kurapica knew that there was more to the Project, and he had not been told everything.
Francis Barrow beheld the Kurata family before him. He had invited them into a more spacious room, very much like a living room or a lounge some floors up, away from the main laboratory and the reservatory altogether. Faint washes of vanishing daylight seeped through small clear windows from the ceiling, which showed that they were no longer underground. The room had two sofas and two large, cushioned armchairs. Barrow opted to take one of the armchairs; Ianto took the other upon his wife's silent suggestion, so the two men were more or less seeing eye to eye. Sianni took the couch nearest her husband; Kurapica decided not to take a seat at all, and stood behind his mother.
A somber silence filled the atmosphere. Barrow released a breath which he never knew he had been holding for so long.
"So who are you exactly?" Ianto began strenuously. It was still apparent that he was not used to addressing people from outside the Kurata clan.
"I'm Dr. Francis Barrow, as I've introduced myself before. I'm one of the head Biological Technicians. And—" he gave a faint smile, not without humor, "you can also say that I'm Dr. Zan Tournay's conscience."
"Is Dr. Zan Tournay in charge, then?"
"By default, yes. He is a senior scientist and has been in the Institute for more than thirty years."
From the corner of his eye, he could see Kurapica leaning forward every now and then to whisper into his mother's ear, while the woman gave small, worried nods. It seemed that the boy was translating their conversation in common speech to the Kuratan tongue for his mother. Sianni, though, seemed to have a faint knowledge of the common speech as well; she seemed to grasp it soundly enough, back at the viewing room.
Kurapica, on the other hand, appeared to be watching him closely. The boy's bitterness in his regard for him somehow had dissipated, and it almost seemed that the young man was counting on him to tell him and his parents the unadulterated truth about the Project.
"Well then, I'll begin," stated Barrow. He had brought with him something more relatable and less alien to the Kurata man and woman before him—a tattered notebook, which had been one of Dr. Henaro's possessions. He opened it at a marked page, and carefully set it down on the table.
"This belonged to Dr. Sarvi Henaro. He wasn't really a practicing scientist at first. He began as a professional Hunter who dedicated his life unearthing exotic cultures and secret civilizations."
"I… have heard of him," Ianto admitted, which earned a look of surprise from Kurapica, but the boy held his tongue. His father then continued, "But only by name, and not in person. An elder had mentioned him in passing, and it had not been intended for my ears. This Dr. Henaro seemed to be deeply interested in Kuratan affairs."
"That's right," returned Barrow. "Dr. Henaro never really stepped into the Rukuso territory; not once in his life until—" he cleared his throat. "—he had known of your massacre." He noted the uncomfortable silence that came afterward, yet he resumed. "He and Dr. Hiro Farenski recovered as much as they can of Kuratan records in your village which have not been entirely destroyed, and had aided authorities in identifying most of your bodies. That was when we knew most of your names, especially those among you who were pureblooded Kurata." He pointed at a page on the notebook; the family took the liberty of glancing at it.
"Here are your names: one hundred seventeen of the deceased identified, marked in red ink; eleven of the deceased could not be identified. This name, conversely, is in blue ink." He nodded to Kurapica. "Yes, we have known your name and the huge possibility that you survived even before the Project began."
"But… where are our… real bodies now?" This time it was Sianni who voiced the disquiet within her. She had tried her best not to make it sound too otherworldly a fact.
"Dr. Henaro learned of your rites about cremating your dead. He tried to follow that through as best as he could…"
"How did he come by of our eyes, then?" Ianto's question.
"Professional Hunters have their ways," Barrow replied. "Before forty-two pairs of eyes made their way to the Black Market—"
Something like a curse escaped Ianto's lips. Sianni was grim and silent. It dawned to them that their Scarlet Eyes did fetch a handsome price in the least savory of places.
"—It took Dr. Henaro all of four months to retrieve forty-two pairs of Scarlet Eyes. He did not go into detail; it was information classified only to him. We did know that… the thieves who had first gone for your Scarlet Eyes no longer took interest in them." The mention of thieves incited a reaction from Kurapica, and Barrow guessed that it was subdued enough not to get his parents' attention.
Nevertheless, Barrow went on. "Dr. Henaro had not first intended to study your Scarlet Eyes as scientific specimens, but eventually, he did. While he never did begin as a scientist and was foremost a Hunter, he did receive a degree in Advanced Bio-engineering, much like my own field, and that was when he began to study the Eyes in earnest." Barrow turned the notebook to another marked page.
"Your bodies had long expired, but your Eyes continued to live. The optic cells housed nuclei which are very unique—and perhaps you are the only ones on this known world who had those cells, which were heavily concentrated solely on your Scarlet Eyes. But that was as far as Dr. Henaro's studies went. A team of eighteen scientists and doctors was formed: surgeons, genetic engineers, neurologists. We had carried on the Project ever since."
"You keep on saying 'Project.' Did it ever have a name?" This was Kurapica's question. Barrow was relieved that the boy held no hostility. He asked out of want for knowledge.
"Yes, it had. But it was dropped soon after; the name was too revealing and, well, if not a bit too cliché..."
"What was it, then?"
"Project Lazarus."
"Playing God..." It was Kurapica's low voice, and it trailed off, as if reminding him of what they had conversed about not too long ago. The boy's eyes met his. They were slightly narrowed, but it was not something which Barrow had not encountered before.
"Kurapica, everything that had transpired so far—the cloning, proving our theories on memory—that was only Phase One."
"We won't be here if you were not to tell us more," was Kurapica's flat reply.
Barrow nodded. "Phase Two should commence in about two years, when every Kurata… clone…" he was careful to mention the word, now that Ianto's and Sianni's clones had fully regained their memories. "…has been awakened."
"And what after that?"
There was a thoughtful pause before Barrow decided to declare it.
"Relocation to Rukuso."
There was sheer incredulousness in—this time—Ianto's voice. "You meant to return all of us to our homeland as part of your Project?"
"Yes."
"And for what?"
Barrow tried as hard as he can to cast all pretentions away. To hell to what Tournay might think. Barrow was addressing people who had a prodigious ability to think, analyze, and feel. "Preservation and further study."
"Like objects under a microscope," Kurapica stated tersely.
"—And protection," Barrow added. "Kurapica, I know what your misgivings are about the Project. They had been my misgivings once. I can't deny that this is an opportunity for your people to live again, only this time, with fortification from what you call 'the outside world.'"
"It was the discrimination from the 'outside world' which was the foremost reason why we had kept ourselves hidden and secret," Ianto explained. "We still have little love for the outside world, even though you think you can sway us with supposed good intentions."
"Well, you can say what you want," Sianni proclaimed. "But with you involved, life will never be the same."
Ianto was nodding. Kurapica, however, remained silent, but a brooding shadow, as it always had, loomed over the youth.
"You may have brought us back to life," continued Ianto, "but does that mean you now own us?"
"That is a very good point, Ianto," Barrow said with as much sincerity he can muster. Damage control, his own mantra echoed. Damage control. "I, among seven other members of the team, voted for your autonomy. However, that means that eleven other members outvoted us. But the results aren't final. They can change, they can always change…" Barrow faltered for a moment. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Phase One has barely concluded."
That was when Ianto stood up. The expression on his face was dark, and eclipsed with distaste. Without any word to his wife and son, he made his way out of the room. Sianni and Kurapica followed his retreating form with their eyes, but made no attempt to stop him.
"I'm afraid, Dr. Barrow," Kurapica said simply, "That Phase Two has to wait a little longer."
Barrow did not argue with the incisive young man. "Yes," he assented, not knowing where to really direct his gaze, so he kept them on the tattered remains of Dr. Henaro's notebook. "Yes, I agree."
Sianni followed Ianto not long afterwards, but not without tender regard for her son, whom she quietly asked momentary leave from. Kurapica remained; the boy took the liberty of taking his father's place on the cushioned armchair that was right across Barrow's, with only the rectangular glass table as the barrier between them.
"Kurapica," Barrow finally said. That was only then when he slumped his elbows against his knees as he sat, folding his hands in front of him. "Transparency is never easy."
Zan Tournay's conscience, he remembered hearing himself say. He had never really thought himself as conscience to only Zan Tournay. Perhaps he was fighting a little too hard in being Project Lazarus' conscience in its entirety. Yes, he had contributed much to the Project's continuation, if not part of its conception, and he had utilized all he knew about his field into the Project, knowing that when the time comes—if the time comes—the Institution would let him retire peacefully until the end of his days. He had thought that he was part of something bigger than himself, despite his personal diatribe towards most aspects of the Project. He may be a smidgen of conscience to how the Project planned to treat the clones. In turn, however, who would be his conscience? He thought that he could never be as objective as Tournay in his regard to Project Lazarus, until he realized that for the past few days, he had been dealing with human emotion more than ever did in his lifetime.
And strangely, from a family comprised of a sole survivor and his genetic replicate parents.
"Was that all the truth you could tell us?" The youth's voice snapped Barrow from his thoughts. He addressed the boy.
"I'm afraid that's all I know about the Project," Barrow confessed.
"And I'm afraid that I have to disagree with that, Dr. Barrow," was Kurapica's keen rejoinder.
Barrow was genuinely intrigued. "What makes you perceive so much, Kurapica?"
"I read it in your eyes, doctor," replied the boy.
"Well, you can say that what I've revealed to you is what I know about the Project concerning you and your people," said Barrow. "But if you mean revealing about what might happen to the team…"
"It's not like I didn't see how you've kept everything clandestine all this time. At least, I can hand that to you," admitted the young man.
Barrow smiled. "We're guarding the Project with our lives, Kurapica. More than you know—"
"Then tell me."
"I think you've already figured out the reason why you have even found us at all, was because we actually let you find us."
"Yes, that much I now know," said Kurapica.
Barrow nodded. "However, should the Project been found out by anyone else other than you, this could not have only been the end of the Project."
The boy was quiet, but his uncloaked eyes revealed icy commiseration—and this oxymoron was only possible through Kurapica's near-stoicism.
"This could have been the end of the team. And I don't mean simply being fired."
"It's being... executed," Kurapica disclosed what he himself had unveiled.
"The Project dies, and we die with it," Barrow confirmed. He surprised himself with how he was relaying this so coolly, as though he were merely picking out what to eat for lunch, or changing the batteries of his phone.
"Who decided this for you?"
"Why, Kurapica; are you finally offering the sympathy which you've wanted so much not to give?" was Barrow's jesting retort, but by all means was he not making fun of the boy.
"This was something I had sensed before, but it never really came to me," Kurapica said slowly, "that the reason I allowed myself to participate in your experiment was because you had staked your lives in it."
"We stake our lives for what we believe in, do we not?" Barrow was not really partial to rhetoric, but there was something about the youth which made him spurt such drivel… at least, that's what Barrow thought it was. He wasn't exactly sure if it made the clearest sense to Kurapica.
The boy, however, made no signs of acknowledging his so-called drivel. Instead, Kurapica intoned after a while, "There will be forty-three of us should you wake everyone up, and not everyone will understand, even if you explain all this over and over again."
Barrow found himself nodding slowly, nearly absently, unconsciously agreeing to the boy whole-heartedly. "Yes, Kurapica. This is the finest, most organized mess we've placed ourselves in." He gave the boy a humorless smile.
"And I wish I could say 'good luck' with all my heart," said the young man. Barrow attempted to find some traces of sarcasm in what the boy said, but from how he saw the boy's face, he realized that there was none.
Kurapica stood up and turned to leave. He was making his way out the door when he paused to look back.
"And Dr. Barrow?" called the youth.
"Yes?"
"For what we believe in," he began, and from Barrow's vantage point he caught the boy glancing down at his own folded right hand. "Yes, we do stake our lives."
Before Barrow could speak or react, the door had already slid shut behind the boy.
A/N: I'm not sure if this chapter was even remotely exciting enough to be worth the nearly week-long wait. ^^;; It's actually more backgrounders and "foundation stories." Then again, let me know! :D
And yes, "Project Lazarus" is a corny name. That's why I myself had to scrap it out… partially. Ehehehe.
I may have to extend this fanfic to about two more chapters than the conceptualized ten. We shall seeeeee-
Send the reviews, comments, chocolate cake, and rum sodas my way! xDD
Cheers!
DW-chan :3
