DISCLAIMER: Scrubs is owned by the fantastic Bill Lawrence and the ABC network (as of Season 8). I own nothing, perhaps not even any semblance of a plot. Lyrics in this arc belong to the band Muse, who has been one of my most constant companions throughout these past few years.
AUTHORS NOTE: First, I just wanted to thank everyone who has read this and reviewed. Your comments and criticisms are what keep this story alive, and the feedback has been overwhelming. Thanks for your continuous support! On a more general note, this story takes place in the middle of Season Five. Let's just say it's a few months after My Fallen Idol, but far before My Urologist, then it veers off from there. Some of the events of the show, however, do occur, including the birth of the next generation—Isabella Turk, Jennifer Dylan Cox and Sam Dorian. By the end of the story, you'll know how these fall into place. I just thought I'd clarify it here, considering the fact that this chapter mentions a variety of dates and events.
Also, I'm Australian, which means majority of my knowledge of the American government is taken off the news, TV and various films. If I get anything wrong, I apologize.
Lyrics adapted from the song Knights of Cydonia by Muse.
CHAPTER VIII: THE LINEAGE
Come ride with me, through the veins of history,
I'll show you how god falls asleep on the job.
And how can we win when fools can be kings?
Don't waste your time, or time will waste you.
"You made him?"
JD's voice carried through the warehouse, his tone incredulous. Jack simply nodded, grinning sheepishly, but the dark-haired doctor barely registered his confirmation of the fact. Instead, he turned to Doctor Cox and Jordan, who were watching his reaction with dual expressions of amusement across their faces. This is unreal, he thought to himself, shaking his head, and I'm the one who always daydreams.
To prove that point, he tried to imagine how someone with a logical stance would interpret this news. Surprisingly, it was the very two people in front of him that immediately sprang to mind. Damn it.
Resigned to the fact that they were, indeed, telling the truth, JD put his head in his hands. He felt a migraine coming on. "You guys really suck at joking, you know that?" He asked, laughing half-heartedly. This was all becoming too much. Even if he had been able to handle the attacks, which still shook him to his core, and the arrival of Doctor Cox and Jack, which he barely understood—to find out that the man who had just saved his life was some sort of centurion?
They were pushing him to his limit. That was for sure.
Doctor Cox's voice was a deep rumble when he spoke. "No joke, Sana. You've seen Ben for yourself. He's real and he's here. You don't have to believe what we say, but you can't deny what you've seen."
No, he agreed, mentally. I can't.
Because it was true—JD had seen Ben, talked to him, but it was that very fact and his semblance towards the handsome, happy man he had once known that only served to deepen his confusion. Now the challenging part was transforming that feeling into words. He begun slowly, lifting his gaze to meet the three pairs of eyes fixated on his face. "Thing is, that's exactly right."
Doctor Cox, Jack and Jordan all stared at him, eyebrows furrowing in harmonization as the tables were turned and they were the ones who were confused by JD. A historic moment, the young doctor thought, amused.
He was quick to relieve them, however—a same courtesy they had yet to extend to him. "I have seen him, enough to know that he is Ben Sullivan. But he's too much like Ben." He turned to Jack, focusing all of his attention on the laid-back teen. "How is that even possible? And don't give me all that cryptic 'wait and see' stuff. You agreed only a second ago that it's time you should come clean."
JD needn't have voiced the addition to his question, as Jack seemed very intent on answering him. Whether it was the truthful answer or not, the dark-haired man had yet to decide. "Truth is, I'm not exactly sure," Jack replied. JD's eyes flickered to his face in disbelief, but upon seeing the indecision written all over Jack's face, he had no choice but to assume that the boy was telling the truth. Nobody could fake that look of deep-seeded doubt—as a doctor, JD knew the tell-tale signs of a liar. Jack displayed none of them. Still, the teenager must have seen some sort of disarray on his face, because he continued first and foremost by saying: "Don't get me wrong."
JD nodded and tuned into what the younger Cox was saying, but he could make no promises. Half of what had already been said managed to fly straight over his head, and that was the easy stuff.
"I mean, by 2018, robotics have—will—advance to the point where humanoid-like machines are able to interact with the general public, but only the National Guard are privy to them. After everything that's happened—everything that will happen—they're the only group powerful enough to use them, really."
Yeah, JD thought, resisting the urge to sigh loudly. His next thought was a slightly sarcastic: That went well.
He contemplated the irony of the situation, for here he was—finally getting the answers he sought ever since this fiasco had begun, and he couldn't even understand most of it. Every answer, it seemed, led onto a billion more questions. What does that even mean? National Guard? What does any of this mean? As his thoughts fell into turmoil, a bemused frown crossed his face. Upon seeing this, Jordan tilted herself towards him.
"I'll put this simply, Jasmine," she began, a look of barely repressed frustration across her sharp, beautiful features. JD nodded, albeit apprehensively. After all, what part of this was simple?
None of it, it seemed, if Jordan's next words were any indication.
"America falls into a state of Martial Law by 2010. The National Guard is the term used to describe the combination of army, navy, air-force and special officers that make up the leading power. Whatever you think you know about our government, DJ? Forget it, because in the face of things to come, the President of the United States is nothing more than a figurehead to a much more sinister power."
JD's head spun. Martial law? Sinister power? But despite his many questions, one observation stood out from the rest.
"2010?" He ended up exclaiming. "That's only four years from now!" When nobody replied, he continued, slightly sarcastically. "What could possibly happen in that small window of time that shocks the country so much that they declare Martial Law?"
After a very pregnant silence, he received his answer.
"Juvenile happens."
Whatever that is, the brunette thought at the height of his frustration, but didn't dare share the remark with anyone else in the room. The atmosphere was far more serious, the mood too somber for sarcasm or comic relief. When he found it was time for him to speak, in order to get the conversation rolling again—as everyone else seemed reluctant to—he fell back on the original topic of discussion.
Ben.
"So robots are real in your time?"
JD observed as the tension left Jack's face, the boy visibly relaxing as the subject fell into his field of expertise. He nodded. "They are, so much so that they look like you and me. Most of them are used for heavy infiltration work, or assassinations."
He shuddered upon hearing the word assassinations. Hadn't enough blood been spilt already? Apparently not.
Decidedly ignoring the million other questions that were raised by this response, JD focused on the issue at hand, keeping to closed questions that would receive the quickest replies. "Is Ben?"
Jack answered with a shake of his head.
"He's got the same weaponry as the others, but was programmed to protect, not to kill," the fair-haired teen replied. "I wasn't lying to you when I said I don't know how I did it—make him, I mean—I remember it fine, but if you asked me to re-do it, I wouldn't be able to." Before JD had the chance to speak, or ask any further questions, Jack continued.
"Somehow, everything fell into place in front of me, as if I understood it. Each piece had a certain function, and in working together, could bring about life."
JD directed his next question to the general group. "So it just happened? Like your visions?" The last question had him spinning around to face Jordan, who nodded curtly. Despite himself, JD grinned. "So it runs in the family?"
While Jack and Jordan couldn't understand his sudden bout of humor, Doctor Cox picked up on JD's train of thought quicker than he himself did. "Don't even think about it, Newbie."
Mother and son looked back and forth between them, almost comically. JD's grin just grew wider. "You so are."
Doctor Cox sighed exasperatedly. "No, Newbie, I am na-hot Superman."
"That wasn't what I was thinking about," he said, indignantly, while trying to save face in front of Jack and Jordan. This was, of course, a lie—one of which Doctor Cox clearly identified, but his mentor said nothing else on the subject.
Jack and Jordan continued to watch the exchange with matching smirks on their faces. So he's like his mother as well, JD considered, watching the blue-eyed teenager watching him. Jack's smirk transformed into a more genuine smile after that, however, which seemed to remind him more of himself than it did Doctor Cox or Jordan. That's impossible though. If I was as close to them in the future as I'd like to be, why didn't I come back with them? There was no way any sort of casual companionship he had with Doctor Cox and Jordan in the future—if any—could affect the teenager to such an extent.
I'm probably imagining it, he thought dejectedly. That is, after all, what I do best.
The dark mood that JD found himself slipping deeper and deeper into as the minutes passed was shattered by Jack's excited suggestion of: "Do you want to see how I programmed Ben?"
JD gave the teenager a wan smile, shaking off his thoughts. "Sure."
The programming, JD later learnt, came with the package deal of being able to make Ben in the first place. The younger Cox had managed to re-access the program eventually, with much difficulty, but had only just begun to do the research necessary to understand it. JD turned to Jordan, remembering her skills in programming that she displayed earlier, but one look from her told him she was equally as perplexed. It seemed her knowledge of computers was limited to what had already been discovered and what was being discovered now, no further, as well as those ideas central to her visions. Still, both displayed enough rudimentary knowledge of the system to fill in the gaps for JD and Doctor Cox. Despite his extra talents, the auburn-haired man had stubbornly decided to stick to medicine instead of switching sciences like his son.
The crash course in programming came to an end as Jack said, on a positive note, "If anyone can understand this programming, its Ben. His knowledge of it is finite, though, because there are certain parts he isn't allowed to access."
Before JD could even attempt to look confused, Jordan picked up where Jack left off.
"Despite how much he sounds and looks like Ben, DJ, he's not. He's a machine, whose personality is nothing more than lines of code. I'm not saying I don't believe in artificial intelligence, as I'm sure I will one day be proved wrong if I did, but giving him access to all of his programming is essentially allowing for mutiny." Jack and Doctor Cox nodded in agreement, but both of them looked less than happy upon hearing the negativity in Jordan's voice.
JD, however, was contemplative, for he had just realized why Jordan distanced herself from Ben. In Jordan's eyes, he wasn't Ben, but rather a constant reminder of the brother she had lost. He looked, sounded and felt like Ben—his personality, essentially, was there—but he wasn't Ben. The thought saddened JD and he could understand why it had a similar affect to Jack and Doctor Cox. Considering the level of grief his mentor had experienced upon losing Ben, the opportunity to speak to someone who acted even remotely like his friend was a blessing. Jack, also, seemed to interpret it in a positive manner—to him, it was like meeting the Uncle he never knew.
JD could understand both sides of the story, but instinctively sided with Doctor Cox and Jack. Whatever the case, he had just been granted the opportunity to talk to a dear friend, no matter how artificial that friend now was.
The young doctor still had so many questions, especially about Ben, but even Jack and Doctor Cox seemed reluctant to talk about it further, as the subject seemed to bring them into contemplation of the more negative side of Ben's conception. The only other alternatives were painful still, but they had promised him answers and, despite how selfish it seemed, he wanted them to deliver.
"The soldier we were working on spoke about a group, the ones who were apparently after me." He let the statement linger, hoping one of them would pick up where he left off.
Doctor Cox bowed his head in anticipation of what was to come while Jordan and Jack looked slightly perplexed at his statement. "Which group?" Jack asked, eyebrows furrowed.
"He said they were called the Collec—"
"That's enough, Newbie."
JD jolted up to meet Doctor Cox, who was frowning in his direction. JD didn't understand what the look meant at first, until it hit him—a double-exposed memory of the present Doctor Cox, his Doctor Cox, staring at him with the same, intent expression. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what it meant, until he realized it was the very look that the older doctor gave him when he was trying to tell him: we need to talk. It was a stare reserved for sharing concerns with one another when they didn't want to do so in front of a patient. This time, it seemed, that the conversation that followed was to exclude Jack and Jordan. JD gave him a small nod, and considered the subject dropped.
Sort of.
"Well, if you won't talk about that, then answer me this," he reasoned, directing the butt-end of the statement towards Jordan. "What will happen in the next four years that's so devastating that America has to fall back on its armed forces?"
But, of course, instead of answering him right out, Jordan had to challenge him. Her face was deadpan as she spoke: "Guess."
JD frowned, confused. How was he supposed to know? He was about to say that aloud when he considered the possibilities. An attack from a foreign country? Terrorism? But all that had happened before, and the country had bounced back from what was possibly one of the most terrifying days in history. JD decided to do what he did best, then, and think outside the box. Civil war? Alien abductions?
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the dark-haired doctor let his thoughts linger on that last one. Jordan did say that the President had become a figurehead—maybe she meant that literally, and they took him? Oh, god. What if I was abducted?
"You may take my brain, but you will never have my soul!" He declared, and was all at once brought back to reality to find three pairs of eyes fixated on him.
Awkward.
Luckily, he was saved by his mentor placing his head in his hands exasperatedly, shattering the silence with the gesture. "It was so na-hot an alien abduction, Jessica. And why would they abduct you, of all people?"
Damn, JD thought, frowning. He has a point.
"Seriously though," he said, sighing. "Can't you guys just tell me? It has to be something really big, doesn't it? Like an attack or a war or..."
He didn't know why the answer just occurred to him, but it did. Maybe it was the way that they all looked at him, in that moment, with such meaningful eyes, reminding him that he was a very big part of this. Or, perhaps, he had realized it all along. After all, why would this mysterious Collective be after him? He was just a doctor, and definitely not a spectacular one, but he had potential. Why would he be of value if it were an attack? Or war? By simply deducting all of the impossibilities in the face of this knowledge, there was really only one thing it could be—only one thing he could possibly try to prevent and would have a chance at succeeding.
"A biological outbreak." The words left his mouth as the thought crossed his mind and he took the silence as a resounding affirmative to the unspoken question that accompanied his statement.
But it wasn't enough for him to simply assume—he had to know for sure. With a sharp intake of breath, he turned to them. "Let me get this straight. This—this Juvenile you've all been hinting to, the thing that tears up the country... is a virus?"
Doctor Cox nodded. "A deadly one."
From within his mind, JD's medical counterpart—Doctor Diagnosis, as he had so fondly called him—stirred to life. A multitude of questions struck him then, all as important as one another. Deductions needed to be made, the symptoms needed to be clarified and the cause of death absolute. But just as he was about to turn to his mentor, who was waiting patiently for his response, the words dried up in his mouth as something else about the situation struck out at him.
He sat there for several long moments, simply blinking stupidly as he tried desperately not to see the connection that was being laid out so neatly in front of him. However, the moment he thought about it, he was unable to forget. The words seemed etched into his brain forever as he sat, stock still and frozen, scrambling for some semblance of self-control. He swallowed down the hysteria rising to his throat, forcing his voice not to shake as he spoke.
No. No freaking way.
The words wouldn't come out. JD let his head fall into his hands, frozen in dread as he contemplated what he would undoubtedly ask next.
"It—the virus..."
He took a deep breath before continuing, hands shaking at his sides.
"It targets children, doesn't it?"
The long silence that followed spoke more to him than words ever could.
Nobody stopped him from walking out of the hangar as he paced its length, opening and shutting the bulkhead door behind him somewhat robotically. It was only until he had walked half-way down the hall that he realized he had no idea where he was going—leaving wasn't an option, no matter how much he wished he could simply run as fast as he could away from the knowledge, the carnage and the severity of it all. He had no desire to revisit the sickbay, for it would only force him back into the reality he was trying so hard to distance himself from. But fate was not so merciful, and even his fantasies failed to grip him as they once did, forcing him back into the downward spiral of his thoughts.
Resting his head against the wall of the dank, dark hallway, JD considered the opposite effect that knowing had on him, and how he'd do anything to be pulled back into blissful ignorance. What do you do when you've just found out that the next few years will be filled with nothing but darkness, suffering and pain? Doctor Cox and Jack had come back, presumably not only to save his life, but to save millions of others as well. But how do you hope to stop a virus that hasn't even developed yet?
In the end, it was Doctor Cox who provided him with those very answers as he crossed the threshold of the door and approached him in the corridor. The dark-haired doctor slid down the wall, landing in a heap on the floor. Doctor Cox moved to sit beside him, concern playing out on the older man's face. It was a long while before either of them spoke, but when it came down to it, JD always knew he was going to be the first to talk.
"Is it selfish of me not to want to deal with this?" He asked, after the long pause. It didn't really matter what Doctor Cox said, he knew, because the answer was already there right in front of him. Is it selfish of me not to want to deal with this? He thought. Yes, it is. While he wasn't sure what type of a role he played in the dystopia that their future had become, he knew it was a pivotal one. After all, why would they risk coming back for him if he was just another nameless bystander?
His position had merit, it seemed, and his participation in the mission was vital. How could he say no to that? If it would save hundreds upon thousands of lives?
He couldn't. It was as simple as that.
So his surprise was understandable when Doctor Cox's answer wasn't an outraged yes, but rather a barely audible: "No, it's not."
For the first time since the older man had joined him, JD turned his eyes to glance over at Doctor Cox. His mentor, his friend—a man who had been forced into the most horrible of situations, yet had somehow breached the surface and formulated a plan. His bravery was undeniable, but JD expected no less from the great Perry Cox. The man was brilliant in everything he did, and he knew it, which got JD to thinking. If anybody was to play a pivotal role in this entire fiasco, it would be him.
So why were they after JD, then, when it was Doctor Cox who was so clearly in charge?
The words escaped him before he had any time to react, to stop them in their tracks. Doctor Cox's deadpan expression gave way to a small half-smile, a look so rare and uncharacteristic of the curly-headed man, yet suited him so well. After years of working beside him, of observing him, however, JD took the smile for what it truly was. It portrayed his sadness, his loneliness and his desperation.
And it almost broke his heart.
Almost.
For it was then that he received the answer to his somewhat impromptu question of: "Why me?" All other emotion became suppressed in the wake of blatant surprise as he ran the words over and over again in his head.
"They're after you because you were the one who finally stopped them."
There was a slight pause as the older man let the words sink in. Then he delivered the punch line—the eight words that rung in JD's head long after he had stopped speaking.
"You were the one who found a cure."
JD's eyebrows went up. Way up. "Me? I'm the one who found the cure?" Doctor Cox nodded and JD's body erupted in a volley of sensations. He was filled with the strangest mixture of pride and dread as the conflicting emotions swelled in his chest—pride, from the fact that it was him who had come up with the cure to what was undoubtedly one of the most horrific outbreaks humankind had ever experienced, and dread from the fact that if things didn't change, and soon, he would undoubtedly have to do just that. Find a cure. The cure. To the Juvenile virus.
How am I supposed to do that when I know absolutely nothing about it?
He imagined, almost comically, what Jordan would say to this. "I see a lot of sleepless nights in your future, DJ." Despite himself, and the situation, and Doctor Cox, and everything that was going wrong today—JD laughed.
The genuine happiness in the gesture gave way to an overwhelming sensation of, well, being overwhelmed. He shifted his body so he could better see the man sitting beside him, who had observed his adverse reaction with a single, raised eyebrow. The look on his face almost sent JD back into laughter, but the urgency of his next question prevented him from falling back into hysteria. "How?"
"How what?"
"How do I find the cure, when I don't even know what the virus is?" All humor in the situation faded in the wake of the silence that fell down upon them right then. Doctor Cox seemed to mull the question over in his head, undoubtedly finding the best way to approach the subject. The best way, without revealing too much.
"The disease causes a brain aneurysm above the visual cortex after torturing the victim with hallucinations. At first, it was assumed that the outbreak was a mutated strain of an existing virus, until we found out that the hallucinations these people—these children—were suffering were too specific, too frighteningly similar in each victim. The only logical explanation was that the virus wasn't organic, that it was manufactured with the specific purpose of invoking fear before sudden death."
JD scrambled to process the words that crashed against his ears, his head spinning as he struggled to get a grasp on what he was hearing.
"Wait," he asked, eyebrows furrowing. "Are you saying that the Juvenile virus was man made?"
Doctor Cox nodded, and JD's stomach dropped for the second time that day.
The young doctor was surprised, to say the least, when the question on his lips wasn't why but how. After being attacked more than once and in such rapid succession, he had no doubt that whoever created the virus was horrid enough to release it into the general population. But how? How did they engineer the virus to create such vivid imagery—if what Doctor Cox described was correct—and to target children, of all groups? It didn't make sense. It wasn't a hate crime, as the deaths weren't restricted to a single race or minority. Not why, but how—how could they do such a thing to innocent people? To children, like Jack in the present, like the little baby Turk and Carla were expecting, or the progeny he one day wished to have?
How could they be so inhumane?
More importantly, who were they?
"You didn't want to talk about the Collective in front of Jack and Jordan, so will you tell me about them now?" He asked, mind falling into turmoil as he contemplated whether or not he truly wanted to know who the Collective was and what they were capable of. Still, he had come this far and still managed to regain a shred of his sanity when everything fell into chaos, so he took the plunge. He met Doctor Cox's eyes, through the anti-flash lenses of his glasses.
And he could feel, rather than see, the emotion that darkened his mentor's eyes.
"You re-he-heally don't want to know about the Collective, Newbie, and I really don't want to have to tell you until its absolutely necessary." Doctor Cox's voice was stern, yet gentle as he spoke, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grasp on his knees, bent in front of him. JD adopted a similar stance, all the while watching the older man's face as he continued. "All you need to know is that they are from the future, they are dangerous and they will stop at nothing to hinder your ability to find a cure to the virus. To answer the question I'm pretty positive is on your mind, alongside your thoughts of puppies and rainbows—yes, they were the ones who created the virus."
JD shuddered.
"I don't think I want to know anymore," he said, honestly. Doctor Cox nodded.
"No," he agreed. "You really don't." And neither did I—the words needed not to be spoken between them, as JD heard them as clearly as if they had, indeed, been voiced.
While he knew that, beneath the surprise and contemplation, he definitely had more questions for Doctor Cox, there was none that were as urgent as those that had already been answered. There was so much he could know at one given time—so much he should know, and the rest he shouldn't. After learning what truly brought Doctor Cox and Jack back to the present, their past, JD didn't think he could handle anymore. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and satisfaction brought it back.
And JD, indeed, was satisfied.
Even so, it turned out that this was the last question JD could have asked anyway, as the slightly tense, yet companionable silence that fell over mentor and protégé then was lifted by the shrill ringing of a mobile phone. Before JD could even think about moving his hand to his pocket where his phone was located, Doctor Cox raised his own phone to his ear and pressed TALK.
"Hello?" He asked, gruffly, looking rather perplexed at who could possibly be calling him. JD's first thought was that it was Ben, but the look of barely disguised surprise—and, to some extent, horror—threw that assumption out of the window.
After a long moment of watching Doctor Cox listen to the person on the other side of the line, the auburn-haired man exclaimed: "You're where?"
The person seemed to repeat their location. Doctor Cox swore in a combination of words that made JD's head spin.
"Alright," he grumbled eventually. "I'll be out in a minute." He hung up, without so much as a goodbye, and suddenly they weren't alone anymore. Jordan and Jack stumbled out into the hallway, the former opening her mouth to speak.
"Is that—?"
Doctor Cox nodded in affirmation before she could even finish her question. "He's here. Now."
Jordan repeated said swear words, looking equally as put out. JD was just about to ask what they were talking about—as well, it seemed, as Jack—when Jordan turned back to Doctor Cox after pacing a small distance away from him down the hall. "This might actually be a good thing, Perry—" Doctor Cox said nothing, eyebrows raised behind his glasses with a clear expression on his face that said: go on. She finished rather anti-climactically. "—Considering the package we're waiting to get from him."
Doctor Cox sighed. Her logic, it seemed, was irrefutable. "I guess you're right, Jorderoo. I just hoped I wouldn't have to deal with that rat-bastard until tomorrow, at least."
"Who is it?"
Thank god for Jack, JD thought, amusedly. They might actually answer him.
"Your great-uncle Argyle."
Instead of swearing like his parents, Jack simply screwed up his nose in distaste. The expression was utterly adorable, but did nothing but perplex JD further. Before he could ask, though, Doctor Cox and Jordan began making their way towards the end of the hall. JD was about to follow them when he felt a tug on his shirt. He averted his eyes to Jack's, whose clearly stated that they should recede back into the main hangar and let Jordan and Doctor Cox deal with their visitor.
As they fell into the swivel chairs in front of the computer terminals, JD turned to the teenager. Jack spun in his seat, exuberant while still looking as if he had just tasted something awful.
"What's wrong with your great-uncle, Jack?" JD asked, nonchalantly, trying extremely hard to keep the raw curiosity from his voice.
And failing.
"He's from the army," Jack replied, with no apparent hesitation. "Which meant he joined the National Guard. They didn't like us much—to them, we were rebels."
"Rebels?" JD repeated, eyebrows furrowing. "Why?"
"Because we were the ones trying to find a cure."
A sharp stab of dread struck out at him right then. "You mean they—our defense forces—weren't?"
Jack shook his head, and the acute dread in his stomach seemed to spread to accompany his entire body. JD was just about to ask why, when an idea formulated in his mind. It seemed logical, and fell into place with what Jordan had said earlier. The Collective, this mysterious group—they had to have had some large measure of power in order to create the virus in the first place. As a doctor, JD knew firsthand that the appropriate machinery wasn't cheap. It made sense in a sick, twisted way that the members of the Collective would have had to have some sort of connection to the major powers, which included the defense force. Or, in this case, the National Guard.
And, of course, the President.
JD looked to Jack, quizzically, but had no opportunity to speak as Doctor Cox and Jordan returned, followed by an elder man. His faded, curly hair fell into his vibrant blue eyes and the relation between him and Doctor Cox was undeniable. Both men had the same, chiseled face and deadpan expression. JD fell into contemplation as he observed the newcomer. So this is Argyle Cox, then? From what Jack assured would transpire if the Juvenile virus was, indeed, released, this man was not only dangerous—but also not on their side. He hadn't mentioned any details about the old man, except for his involvement in the National Guard, but for JD, that was enough.
Enough to know he didn't trust him.
Another, taller man followed Argyle Cox into the room. He had a grin stretched across his dark-skinned face, one that could only be described as wicked. If JD didn't trust Argyle, then he trusted this man less. His eyes were dark, cold and calculating. They weren't the eyes of an assistant to an old man—they were the eyes of an assassin. After being in the company of not one—but two—assassins in so many hours, JD recognized the look immediately.
His instincts sung to him. This man is dangerous.
JD's feeling of unease grew when Doctor Cox announced their visitor's arrival. "JD, Jack—I'd like you to meet my uncle, General Argyle Cox, and his assistant, Keith Neaylon." The tone of his mentor's voice was anything but inviting. In fact, it was stone cold. If JD didn't like these two men, he knew that Doctor Cox liked them less. The feeling seemed to be wide-spread as Jack and Jordan watched them in equal discomfort.
"Keith is not only my assistant, Perry," Argyle spoke, keeping his voice light. JD frowned at his tone. It seemed friendly enough, accommodating even, but there was something sinister to it. Perhaps it was the way he was undermining Doctor Cox, or simply the way he surveyed the room, gaze fixating hungrily on the sphere in the middle of the hangar. Either way, the dark-haired Doctor's discomfort only blossomed from there. "He's one of the world's best interrogators."
"That is, I assume, why you asked me here?" Argyle added, innocently, though JD knew the man to be anything but. "You wish to interrogate your prisoners?"
JD's jaw dropped.
Interrogate? Prisoners?
He stood. "There's no way—"
But the words didn't come out, his point was not conveyed, for in that moment he was interrupted. By Doctor Cox.
His mentor's gaze was downcast, his face contorted into a look of barely disguised shame.
"Yes. We do."
No one's gonna take me alive,
Time has come to make things right.
You and I must fight for our rights -
You and I must fight to survive.
AUTHORS NOTE: Oh wow. My so called 'short edit' of this chapter turned out to be extending it by about 2,000 words. But still, all of the information expressed here is invaluable. But just so you're wondering—we'll find out more about the Juvenile virus, as well as the Collective, later. The reason why I chose to disclose Juvenile rather than the inner workings of the Collective or Perry's personal stake in the future was because I recently retrofitted the next few chapters to reveal some pretty big bombshells about the virus. Also, and this is very important—all the loose ends that have been brought up but not properly explained (aka. Jordan's visions, Jack's ability to create Ben and how the Juvenile virus seemingly targets children) are all interconnected. Just a clue for you guys. I should also add that another big clue can be found within an episode of one of my favorite Science Fiction shows. Specifically, one mentioned in my disclaimer a couple of times.
But on a more general note—how did I go? Compelling enough for you? Less confusing? More confusing?
-- Exangeline.