THOOM.
The lights flashed on, a burning sun in the eyes of the young boy strapped into the chair. The room was small, beams of golden light bouncing off of the stone walls surrounding him. The long mirror covered the north wall, and the boys stared into it, watching himself blink in the brightness. He knew there were people behind that mirror, watching him like a zoo animal, like some labrat in a maze. He knew to stare into his reflection imagining the doctors looking in. Doctor Harris was in there.
Doctor Harris. The straps on his arms prevented him from reaching up to feel his bare scalp, the old scars, the wounded flesh. Doctor Harris.
"Alright, now," a voice said. His eyes flickered to the speaker hanging from the ceiling. "Uh, C322."
He didn't move. He didn't answer. C322 was his name, and he was supposed to respond.
"C322?"
He reluctantly nodded.
"Okay," The voice was male, friendly, calm. It made him sick to his stomach. They all SOUNDED friendly. But they weren't. They never were. "We're going to try something new today, okay? We're going to make another wish. Remember when we turned off the lights and told you to find the kitty cat?"
"There was no cat," he said softly, looking into his own eyes in the reflection.
"You made it disappear, is that right?"
"There WAS no cat." His voice was insistant, to the point.
"Yes, of course," Behind the mirror, the speaking doctor turned to raise his eyebrows at the others, bemused. "No cat at all. Alright." Turning back, he watched as C322 flexed his right hand. "We're going to try something new. You know about mutants, right?"
He blinked. He was a mutant. "Yes." Why would they ask him such a question? It was pointless. Of course he knew about mutants. "Yes," he said again, after the few moments of silence became unbearable. The light glared in his eyes as he stared into his reflection intensely.
"Can you say something for me?"
He blinked again.
"Something important, C322."
He nodded slowly. He was vaguely interested. No one had ever ASKED him to do anything. Find the blocks, C322. Find the kitty cat. There WAS no cat.
"There aren't any mutants." The doctor sounded insistant, hopeful even. "There aren't any mutants, C322."
"There aren't any mutants," another doctor chimed in. "There aren't any mutants."
"But," C322 was confused. "But there ARE."
"No, C322," the first voice said.
"No mutants, C322." Another.
"None." And another.
"None at all." And ANOTHER.
"Stop it!" he shouted, cried in desperation. "There ARE mutants! There ARE!"
"No mutants."
"There aren't any mutants."
"No more mutants."
The voices continued, more chiming in as the chanting went on. His eyes flickered frantically around the room, feeling the pressure building up behind his eyes. The pressure was there. The voices continued.
"There are no mutants."
"No mutants, C322."
"There were never any mutants."
He closed his eyes so tightly they stung. The voices pressed in all around him, his ears buzzed, his eyes felt as though they would pop out of his skull. The pressure. It had to come out. It had to, or it would push out his eyes.
"None at all."
"THERE AREN'T ANY MUTANTS!!"
Complete silence fell across the room as the bulbs in all of the lights flickered and went out for a few seconds, coming back on and shining dimly. C322 had screamed this statement at the top of his lungs, trying to drown out the voices of the doctors behind the glass. The small boy fixed his eyes on the flickering lights, then stared back at his reflection.
"There aren't any mutants," he repeated. "There aren't any mutants." The pressure was relieved slightly as he accepted this as truth. "No mutants at all."
The doctors glanced around, looking, waiting for him to disappear. One even looked out into the hallway at the other cells. The mutants were all there.
"Why aren't they going away?" One asked. "Why aren't they disappearing?"
"Self preservation," Doctor Harris explained. "His powers will not allow him to destroy himself."
C322 looked around and he realized a new truth. What if? He wondered. He wanted to know, to learn the right thought, and without thinking, he whispered, "There... aren't any humans."
Doctor Harris blinked. "What is he doing?"
"There aren't any humans." C322 had discovered something.
"Open the vents," Harris ordered. "Send in some sleeping gas."
"The vents are jammed," C322 said, eyes glowing. "There aren't any humans. Do you hear me?"
"Sir, the vents are--"
"I know," Harris said. "C322, cease immediately. Right now, understand?"
"Don't you understand?" He continued. "There isn't any difference!"
Harris turned on the electrical systems on the chair, a punishment for bad behavior. C322 shook in agony. When he opened his eyes, he repeated. "There isn't any difference."
Harris punished him again, angry at his project. Mutants were not the same as humans.
This cycle continued, until C322 broke, not being able to stand the pain, not from Harris, not from any of them. In a fit of rage, uncontrollable fury urged him to shout, "You don't have any hands!"
The small observation room exploded in screams, as one by one, the doctors lost their hands, simply gone as blood poured from their wrists in bright red spurts. Harris looked them over calmly. He was safe from C322's wrath. His project was programmed never to harm him. He looked around at the screaming, panicking doctors, unconcerned, then left, turning off C322's lights and pressing a button in the hall, signaling for a janitor.
...
And this was all just a dream, vanishing from sight as Benjiman Malcolm Wyndgarde opened his silver eyes, blinking at his own share of bright light.
A hospital room, he realized. At a hospital. What happened to the infirmary, he wondered. Then he remembered, images of Magneto flooding his mind. He growled softly, realizing his stupid mistake. He could have ended it.
But he wasn't ready, he reasoned with himself. Not to face him. Not yet.
And someone out there was reaching for him. He closed his eyes. That was no dream. That was real. And whoever C322 was, he needed help. An image of a white haired girl being tossed around passed through his busy mind. She was there with C322. And more mutants were there, tortured, used. He became angry with this Doctor Harris, nearly as angry as C322. He had to do something. He had to do something SOON.