These characters are under copyright by Takashi Shiina, Rokurou Ogaki, Shogakukan, Sentai Filmworks and/or Kodansha Comics or others. This is a work of fanfiction, for no monetary gain.

Chapter 10 – Lab Rats

The first indication Andy had that he was awake was the all too familiar sensation of pain. He'd survived enough fights as a kid to know what the aftermath felt like of waking up after a bad beating. But he hadn't been this battered in years. Very few people, even groups of people, could take him down now.

He had no idea what had happened, but he was careful not to open his eyes yet, the government training that had been drilled into his head automatically kicking in and overriding his natural instinct to immediately open his eyes and leap up, ready to fight. "Assess your environment. Use your other senses first: touch, hearing, smell, even taste. Those seconds or minutes or hours, that information, could save your life or provide the opportunity to formulate your escape plan, if you've been captured by the enemy."

Andy forced his racing heart to calm, so his elevated breathing didn't betray that he was awake, so that panic didn't kick in his fight or flight response beyond the bearable degree it already was. If whoever had hurt him was still around and they hadn't already realized he was conscious, he wouldn't give them that advantage.

Concentrate. I'm lying on what feels like a metal cot without a pad. If I break the frame, I can use the pieces as tonfa, I'll have weapons. But there are metal cuffs digging into my wrists, and possibly around my ankles, though I can't tell through my boots. Chains. The ones on my wrist are attached to chains.

They left my clothes and boots and jacket on, that's good, but they're soaking wet. My hair's wet too, and I can taste mud in my mouth, so maybe I was pushed into a river or lake? I don't taste salt, so it wasn't the ocean, and it's mud, not sand. I can still feel my shoulder holster, but the weight of my gun is gone. Are the lockpicks still in the cuffs of my jacket? Don't check yet. You need more sensory input first.

The air is cold, it's got that recycled, self-contained feeling, like on a plane, but I don't hear engines, or even vent: if it's a building, there's not a vent in here. No overt sounds, other than a distant mechanical hum, air vents elsewhere, probably. No movement, no people. Could I be underground? In a basement? There's some kind of light, I can see it through my eyelids: it's not pitch black.

I'm shivering: maybe shock or exposure, infection if I have any bad untreated wounds, especially if I was in still water, like a pond, somewhere with a lot of bacteria, but I don't smell moss or rotting plants on my clothes. Could it have been rain? Rain!

Memory flooded him. He'd been driving in a torrential downpour, creeping along, it had been hard to see the road, and out of nowhere, a helicopter had swooped down, and then Humvees and troop transports had come barreling out of the trees, surrounding him, ramming him, forcing him off the road. An ambush. Soldiers. They'd been in the uniforms of the Comerican military. No faces he recognized, too many to count, too well organized, too much high tech gear – that ECM had been state of the art but unnecessary, against him – so it couldn't have been personal. Apparently either he'd stirred up a hornet's nest with his questions regarding his parentage or some misguided asshole was out for justice for Director Walsh's death.

He tensed, and tortured and abused muscles stiff from cold and pain protested. Andy hissed in pain, cursing himself for it in the next moment, for betraying himself with the sound.

"Hinomiya? Are you awake? Can you hear me?" a male voice asked, intent, urgent, but somewhat distant, maybe dozens of feet away.

Andy froze, yanking him out of the memory. It wasn't the voice of anyone he recognized.

"Come on, damn it, say something! You're awake, right? I just heard you again, and I've heard you moaning, you've got to be able to hear me, can't you? I'm in the cell diagonally across from yours and I saw them drag you in there. Well, I saw you go past the barred window in my door and heard the door to yours open. I haven't seen Otoyama or heard her since they captured us," the voice supplied, as if he knew him.

Otoyama is a Japanese name. Am I back in Japan?

"I'm Yamamoto by the way. Kenji Yamamoto. I'm certain they're monitoring our cells, though I haven't been able to spot the cameras, so watch what you say, but it's not like my name is a secret. Those Comerican bastards know who we are, they found our IDs. They have no right to hold us here. We have diplomatic immunity. We're supposed to be allies, damn it!" he yelled the last part loudly, angrily, apparently at their captors. "We're from B.A.B.E.L." he supplied helpfully.

B.A.B.E.L . agents? If the voice was telling the truth, whoever had caught them both, or the three of them, it sounded like, didn't care who they pissed off. They must know he was part of P.A.N.D.R.A. He was No. 2 on the C.R.I.M.E. list, second only to Kyousuke. Kyousuke! What he wouldn't give to see his face right now, that sardonic smirk of his.

"We were sent to monitor you. To make sure you weren't up to anything. You didn't make it easy, you know? It's not like our powers work around you. But we didn't lose you, not once, the whole time you were here in Comerica, not even that night Hyoubu was attacked in Maldrid and you switched cities. We heard you booking your cruise ship ticket to Japan tonight under a fake name. We ticketed for the same damn boat, arranged for the cabin right next to yours. I thought we were going home, that I'd be able to see… But I guess none of us are going to get to go home." The voice sounded fatalistic, rather than broken and defeated, or frightened.

"I'm glad I'm getting this chance to talk to you. I hope you can actually hear me. I don't blame you for not trusting me, though. I wouldn't trust me either, if I was you. But I just wanted to apologize for spying on you. It wasn't anything personal. It was just orders. In spite of the fact that you ended up hooking up with P.A.N.D.R.A. you really seem like an OK guy to me. We know those stories the Comericans spread about you murdering the U.S.E.I. Director Alan Walsh are bullshit. As far as I know, you're not actually guilty of any crimes. Just guilt by association, for the company you keep.

"We would have tried to stop them, the Comericans, but they actually caught us before they got you. We don't know if they detected our powers somehow, or just tracked us through our homing beacons. I think it might be the latter, because they dug them out of our arms as soon as they caught us.

"I… um… I hadn't ever killed anyone, until today. I was trained to, but I never had to cross that line before, you know? I guess they'll probably get back at me for that, for the guy I killed. I mean, more than they already did, when they caught me. The worked me over pretty thoroughly, though from what I saw as you went by, I think you got it far worse than I did. Otoyama, she took out at least three of them. I… I'm not sure she's still alive. She wasn't the nicest person, but we were partners for almost two months and… I really don't want her to be dead."

Now Andy could hear fear, hopelessness. It could be an elaborate trick, but his gut was telling him it wasn't. And if they were monitoring the cells, they likely could tell he was awake, or at least waking up. If he pretended he hadn't heard any of that, though, it might give him a tiny edge.

Andy moaned loudly, and then shifted visibly, for the benefit of whatever cameras and other monitoring devices were in his own cell, and put his hand to his head, regretting it when the heavy chain manacled to his wrist hit him in his left cheek. Someone had landed a particularly vicious kick to that cheek. Thankfully, his cheekbone or jaw hadn't been broken, but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Where the hell am I? What the fuck happened?" he asked, playing the role of the coarse and stupid soldier, in case these men didn't know everything about him.

He opened his eyes and discovered he was in a windowless and featureless room. No. Not entirely. There were bars on a tiny window set in the lone, metal door. The cot was bolted into the metal wall and dismayingly sturdy looking, but at least his ankles weren't bound. Their mistake.

"Hinomiya! I guess I've been babbling like an idiot to empty air. I'm Kenji Yamamoto, a B.A.B.E.L. agent, I was spying on you, sorry, and the Comericans have captured us, and my partner, Otoyama. We're in some kind of underground research facility. They have ECMs all over, in the corridors, in our cells, which means either government or high budget private, but I think the former," Yamamoto said, a lot more succinctly than before, providing information he'd left out earlier, too.

"Any idea what they want with me?" Andy asked, cutting to the chase, even as he frowned. There wasn't an ECM in his cell. Which meant either they knew they didn't need one, or worse, that they knew that having one turned on him would mean that his power could be suppressed, and P.A.N.D.R.A. could find him.

"Unfortunately, yeah: DNA and sperm samples. They want to replicate your power, create an army just like you, of biological ECMs. I heard them joking about the fun they were going to have cutting you up and collecting specimen samples," Yamamoto claimed, sounding sickened and infuriated.

Andy felt his stomach clench in horror. That was worse than what he'd been thinking. It sounded like he'd been captured by people like the ones who had created Yugiri. Hell, for all he knew, it was the same group. The thought of dozens or maybe hundred of kids, his kids, with barcodes on the backs of their necks, being treated like they'd treated Yugiri, like weapons instead of children, people, made him want to smash heads and blow the place to hell.

Yugiri! Did she get away? He'd been overwhelmed by the men attacking him. He belatedly realized he wasn't sure she'd escaped. The thought that she might be a prisoner here too terrified him. And if she hadn't, P.A.N.D.R.A. wouldn't even know to look for either of them. "The little girl who was with me. Did she get away?" Andy demanded.

The silence was deafening.

"Yugiri! What happened to Yugiri?" Andy demanded, his heart hammering, all worry for himself forgotten.

"I'm sorry. They were joking about her too. They said it was… was like shooting ducks in a barrel. That even if all the bullets didn't hit her, teleporting wounded like that would… that there was no way she could keep her concentration long enough to reappear. That she would be lost 'between'."

No! Yugiri! They couldn't have…they shot… She'd been so afraid but so brave. She'd died trying to save him, to protect him, when all he'd wanted was to protect her. Andy felt hatred and rage tear through him, far worse than the night of the attack against the Catastrophe, when that bastard Walsh had captured Yugiri. Then he'd still thought it was a mistake, that he could be reasoned with, until he'd shot him without hesitation, aiming for his heart, to kill.

Don't let her be dead. Please. She can't be dead. Not because of me.

"We need to get you out of here, somehow, but I can't do a damned thing," Yamamoto urged. "I'm chained to the cot in my cell, and even without the ECM, I don't have any offensive powers, and I'm not in the best shape right now. But I've been trained in combat, these bastards aren't even human, you're my mission, and I think they might have killed Otoyama, as well as that little girl, so I'll do everything I can to get you out of here," Yamamoto swore, sounding as infuriated as he was.

"Is anyone else imprisoned here too?" Andy asked woodenly, forcing down his grief, his fury, channeling it, banking it, so he could unleash it later.

"No one who's answered me. So either no, or they're unconscious or gagged or paranoid or… I really don't want to think about other possible reasons, physical reasons they can't speak," Yamamoto admitted quietly.

This wouldn't be as easy as slipping out from the wires that bound him, when The Children attacked the Catastrophe, when he'd dislocated both arms and then snapped them back into place, a handy little trick he'd learned as a kid, to break out of holds when kids at the orphanage had ganged up on him, thanks to the double jointed body he'd been born with, luckily having rolled that right, at least, in the genetic crapshoot that had predestined a large portion of his life. But not all of it. He refused to be at the mercy of fate any longer, and he was a firm believer in making his own luck. Preparation for the unexpected was key to survival for anyone, ESPer or Normal.

Making sure his back was to the wall, so the hidden cameras he saw and any he might have missed couldn't see, he felt for the lockpicks hidden in the lining of the cuffs of his jacket, feeling grim satisfaction and relief when he found them, and because, injured as he was, he still had the use of both hands. He began laboriously working the left lockpick out of the seam, though he wouldn't visibly act yet; he'd pick the locks on his wrists and then wait until the door was opened, until he was being taken to whatever lab they planned to torture and vivisect him in, to try to break free of his cell. Thankfully his ankles weren't bound.

He couldn't risk freeing Yamamoto. He might be a plant, not B.A.B.E.L. at all. He'd have to escape without him, and then alert B.A.B.E.L.

"If you think you can escape, go for it. Don't try to get me or Otoyama or anyone else who might be prisoner here. Just tell B.A.B.E.L., anonymously even, you don't have to let them know it's you," Yamamoto said, as if he could read his mind.

Had he? Regardless of whether he could trust Yamamoto, or whoever he might be, there must be ECMs here, if they were capturing ESPers, but considering his power, would they be on?They wouldn't be needed. And if they were on, Kyousuke would find him, if he was looking. But he doesn't know I'm in danger.

And there was another factor. What if Kyousuke was angered by the envelope? Kyousuke was extremely temperamental, as if his psyche had been frozen as a teenager when he died as one. He felt and experienced everything vehemently, passionately, beneath that veneer of cold control. Was I wrong? Does he feel something genuine for Kaoru?

Andy had never felt more unsure, more alone.

"For what it's worth, I know you didn't kill Director Walsh. B.A.B.E.L. knows. You did some trespassing in government facilities, Comerica's, not ours, but apart from likely killing some soldiers of various countries, we don't think you've killed anyone. You've done nothing to warrant you being on the C.R.I.M.E. list, other than associating with known terrorists. And from what I've seen these past few months, personally, I don't think P.A.N.D.R.A. is a terrorist organization. I think they're a sovereign nation, at war with the rest of the world.

"It's ironic, them assigning me to this mission. I was happy in B.A.B.E.L. I'd deluded myself into thinking I was making a difference in the world. But after what I've seen, I've been seriously considering quitting B.A.B.E.L. when I got back, handing in my resignation, along with my mission report. Because the things I've seen here, in Comerica… I can't believe our government sanctions what your former government is doing. I've heard there's a prediction about a war coming soon, between ESPers and Normals. Frankly, I think it's inevitable, at this rate. And I honest to God don't know which side to be on. Because I'm an ESPer, but my family, they're all Normals. Although I guess none of that matters now. It doesn't look like either of us will live to see it," he added fatalistically.

Andy tensed as a new sound invaded his prison, a door opening, and approaching footsteps echoing tinnily from the corridor. Thankfully, he'd worked the lockpick free. He got to work on the cuffs around his wrists. He was running out of time, and he needed his hands free by the time they opened the door.

"I'm agent Kenji Yamamoto of B.A.B.E.L.," his alleged fellow prisoner called out. "I demand you immediately release the three of us and any other ESPers you have legally detained. By taking us prisoner, you're in violation of the new U.N.o.W. Esper Protection Treatise, as well as the Comerican/Japanese E.R.A., the U.S.E.I./B.A.B.E.L. Esper Response Accords."

The protest was a futile one. Obviously these people didn't care what the United Nations of the World or individual governments or organizations had recently agreed to.

A coolly assessing face appeared in the window of his cell and then there was the sound of a lock being disengaged, at the same moment as there was a soft, satisfying click behind his back as he opened the first manacle, but then an alarm shrilled.

Andy cursed as he realized he'd triggered some kind of security system, even as his body was flooded with electricity, the cuffs suddenly acting as a high powered taser. His whole body stiffened and he screamed involuntarily as the pain of his existing injuries increased tenfold, as his drenched clothes began steaming, as every muscle tensed and spasmed, the pick flying from his fingers as his entire nervous system was overloaded with electricity and agony.

"You bastards! What are you doing to him?" Yamamoto yelled.

Andy could barely hear him as he fought to stay conscious as an infuriated face appeared over his own, that of a seasoned soldier, or someone playing at being one, a man in a Comerican military issue uniform. "You don't get to die that easily. You cost me four good men. I'm going to enjoy watching them cut you apart," he taunted, as he did something to the wall and the current stopped.

Andy could only lie there, unable even to stop from moaning in agony, twitching wildly, his body still hijacked by the current, as five men surrounded him.

"Strip him and burn his clothes! I don't want any more surprises," the man barked.

Rough hands grabbed him, tearing at Andy's sodden clothes. He was helpless to resist, as the fabric ripped. They stripped him naked, taking everything, even his destroyed limiter which was hung on a chain around his neck, and the new watch for Yugiri. Through a haze of pain he could hear Yamamoto yelling more protests and threats, sounding increasingly frantic. Perhaps he really was a B.A.B.E.L. agent after all, and not one of these men.

Andy was half dragged, half carried through the doorway to the corridor, and then down it. He heard Yamamoto's voice becoming more distant as Andy vainly tried to get his body to obey his commands, even as he counted silently, trying to gauge distance and direction.

He heard another door open and he was able to move his head just enough to get a sideways look at the room. His eyes widened in horror as he was dragged into what looked like an operating theater, he began thrashing and struggling, but he was still completely uncoordinated, more helpless than a child, and then a fist cracked into the side of his head, stunning him for a vital few seconds. He was thrown onto something hard and cold and metal, he felt straps tightening on his wrists, his ankles, around his waist, his neck as he was bound spread-eagle to the operating table.

"What are you doing to my test subject?" a voice demanded shrilly.

"Delivering it," the commander snapped.

"You've damaged it! Do you have any idea how unique, how valuable this specimen is? I insisted you not drug it because I don't want tainted samples. Couldn't you subdue and transport it without causing so much physical damage? Its powers have no offensive capability against Normals," the voice scolded.

"It's his own fault for trying to escape, after we've been so nice to him. All we did was soften him up for you a little, Doc. Nothing compared to what you're about to do to him, right? I turned off the juice before the cuffs could finish frying him. He's only medium rare, not well done," the soldier replied calmly.

Dazed and dizzy from the blow to his head, and the current, Andy strained against the restraints, as he fought against the need to vomit, only halfway certain it was an aftereffect of being beaten and tased and likely concussed, hating the knowledge it was just as likely from fear. He could resist interrogation, torture, even brainwashing, heal and recover. But as he as he felt electrodes being attached to his forehead and chest and took in the horrifying array of gleaming, ominous looking medical equipment, he was terrified they were going to maim or lobotomize him, or simply dissect or vivisect him.

He never should have left Hyoubu, Yuguri, Yoh the others. He'd been a fool to look for his birth family, when he had all the family he could ever want in P.A.N.D.R.A. Now Yugiri was dead and these bastards were going to breed an entire race of children like her from his sperm, ones raised as living weapons, to use against P.A.N.D.R.A. and every other ESPer on the planet. Against B.A.B.E.L. and the Queen and that damned prophecy that still stood, that sometime within the next few years, Akashi would lead a rebellion against the Normals.

He wanted to scream at these men for their stupidity, but he knew it was futile and he wasn't sure he could speak. Didn't they realize they were creating the very future they feared? That damned dolphin brain was straight out of a Greek tragedy, like the story of Oedipus, of the king who caused his own downfall, creating the future he feared by trying to kill his son as an infant, so he wouldn't be murdered by him as an adult. The ominous predictions of that dolphin had caused more harm to ESPers than a hundred thousand Normals ever could.

A madman posing as a doctor moved into view, in hospital scrubs, surgical max and latex gloves. He approached and began hooking monitors up to him. "I suppose brutality is better than the alternative. The mistake you made before was allowing some of your researchers to treat the test subjects like actual children, when they're merely tools, like this one's offspring will be. Now get out of here and let me work. I've already been delayed by the flooding and road closure and am off schedule. I should have been here before you brought it in, so I could start work immediately after you delivered it. I should have already begun sample collection."

"Yeah, sure Doc. Sample collection. Just remember to give a copy of the video to Johnson. That sick fucker needs some new jerk off material," one of the soldiers snarked.

"Sergeant Johnson deserves more than that. Call me after the 100 are done, when you're ready to cut out his eyes and remove the other parts. He and the rest of my men and I deserve to see that part live and in person," the Captain ordered.

"Absolutely not! I require a sterile environment for the tissue extraction. I will not have you contaminating my… " the doctor's complaint trailed off midsentence. "I mean, yes sir, of course, sir," the man stated, sounding unexpectedly cowed.

There was the sound of receding footsteps, and a door opening and closing.

My eyes! They're going to cut out my eyes! Cut me apart!

Andy felt another surge of adrenaline flood him and he struggled against the restraints and he became aware of a beeping sound pinging more and more rapidly. Apparently one of the machines was a heart-rate monitor, and his heart was pounding wildly.

The scientist entered his field of view, glanced at one of the machines, noting the numbers, and then he returned to the small metal tray on the stand beside the operating table where he'd retrieved the electrodes from earlier. He lifted three more gleaming electrodes off it in his latex gloved hand.

Andy's flesh crawled as this time the man wordlessly attached one of them to his penis and two to his scrotum. He expected to see twisted glee or lust in the man's eyes, but his stomach turned as he still saw nothing, a complete lack of emotion, of humanity. Then the man turned and picked up a metallic cylinder from the table which had Andy clenching the muscles in his buttocks panic, especially when revoltingly warm latex covered fingers grasped his penis, but instead of the feared anal intrusion, the man surprised him by fitting one end of the apparently hollow cylinder over the end of his penis. Abruptly there was a sensation of suction. As soon as the device sealed onto him, the man removed his hands, and headed to a bank of equipment.

"Specimen 643, batch M8-002, is now fully prepped for procedure one." The clinical, detached voice was far more chilling than maniacal laughter would have been. Fanaticism, bloodlust, a need for vengeance, he could understand, even empathize with, if not support, attempt to influence, to reason with, but this man wasn't even human.

643. 642 others before me, tortured and vivisected and dead ESPers, men and women and most likely children.

The doctor was apparently already recording. The thought of Kyousuke somehow managing to find this place, far too late to save him, but finding the recordings, watching them, made him renew his futile struggles.

Andy heard the door open again and the doctor looked up, a flash of quickly masked fear on his face, as the man tensed. "Cap…? Who the devil are you? You're interrupting my work! Why are you here?" he demanded acidly, once he realized it wasn't the Captain he feared.

Andy felt a wild moment of hope. Kyousuke? P.A.N.D.R.A.? Even B.A.B.E.L.?

But when three people came into Andy's field of vision, he didn't recognize any of them.