Collaboration with Glorifiedscapegoat.
Nezumi had already rolled over to lay on his side again when the doctor decided to stop leering and actually come inside. The loud ka-lunk followed by a click signaled the heavy door's opening. Nezumi stared at the wall opposite as the whisper of fabric drew nearer. The man got close enough that his blaringly white lab coat intruded in the periphery of Nezumi's gaze.
Brave to get so close.
Or maybe just aware.
A camera's eye glittered from the left corner of the ceiling; if the man had been watching him from afar before deigning to approach, then he must have realized that Nezumi was no longer a threat. He had barely moved from his bed except to piss and pace, and the tear tracks down his cheeks might as well have been tattoos by this point.
Nezumi had no control, and no will but to sit and be quiet until the numbness in his brain finally infected and stilled his body.
The man shifted, his lab coat wavering in the corner of Nezumi's sight like a specter. "You made an impressive go at it." He sounded as though he really meant to congratulate Nezumi on his escape attempt and ultimate failure. "Though, I think breaking Officer Rashi's fingers was going a bit too far…" He clicked his tongue, the sharp tsk-tsk snapping the air. "I mean, the man is a powder keg waiting to explode, and here you are, sparking flint in his face like someone with a death wish."
Nezumi didn't speak. He didn't regret snapping the remainder of Rashi's working fingers—he should have snapped his neck. If he could go back, knowing what he did now, he would have. He would have proved himself his father's son by killing every agent he found until either they killed him, or he had left the Lab a bloody ruin of its hubris.
"Look," Lab Coat said, and Nezumi realized that considerable time had passed between the man's gentle admonishment and Nezumi's violent fantasy. "I'm not here to reprimand you. I just want to talk."
His voice was level and unhurried, without an ounce of the impatience or disgust with which the agents and officers of the Lab treated their prisoners. The other employees of Horizon Labs thought of the VCs as violent animals to be corralled and broken like wild stallions.
But this man was different. The way he looked at Nezumi when he had been strapped to his table after Inukashi's attack, and the way he spoke to Nezumi now was how one might look when dissecting a difficult bit of theory. Nezumi as a whole, as a person, didn't exist to him. Under his cold gaze, Nezumi was parsed into pieces: a brain, a desperate impulse, a set of eyes or teeth or genes to be measured and probed and studied under a microscope.
"I don't care if you start trouble." The man's lab coat fluttered as he began a leisurely perusal of the empty room. "In fact, it's better when you do. It's like a live trial; the data is far better when we can actually see the VCs in action."
Lab Coat stopped and turned to Nezumi again from across the room. He now stood in Nezumi's exact line of sight, and unless Nezumi closed his eyes or moved, he would be forced to stare at the pasty-faced weirdo, with his greasy hair and even greasier smile. Either way, the man would get some sort of reaction from Nezumi. Which was probably his aim from the start.
Bastard.
"What I'm interested in is your abilities. You weren't very cooperative with the agents who spoke to you before, but they're convinced you started the riots. That would mean we're missing some crucial data on your power and its reach. I've long suspected you didn't actually need eye contact to do your work, but until now, we were certain you couldn't use mind control on subjects who weren't in close proximity to yourself.
"If you did start the riots, however, that would prove our theories wrong and warrant more research. And it would change your threat level assessment." The man paused and nudged his spectacles up his nose, even though they hadn't been slipping down. "Though, don't worry; you wouldn't be considered anywhere near S-class."
Fucking bastard.
Hatred flickered in the pit of Nezumi's chest, licking at the ice encasing his heart, but after a moment the numbness won out. The heat sputtered and died.
Slowly, painfully, Nezumi pushed himself up into a sitting position. His spine popped in several places, but the man across the room didn't react to a single crack. Nezumi stared past the man's glasses into his eyes for a long, drawn out moment.
The man felt like a void.
It wasn't just the scrambler in his ear. In fact, it wasn't even the scrambler; usually when Nezumi faced someone who was immune to his powers, the effect felt like buzzing in his brain and ears. An annoying dampening sensation that grew unbearable if he tried to push back against it.
But though this man wore a scrambler, Nezumi could barely feel the buzz of interference. He felt only emptiness, like the space that the doctor occupied was a vacuum, cold and dead as space itself. Nothing got through and nothing escaped.
If Nezumi were still feeling anything, he might have been afraid. But as it was, he didn't care. He only wished that this twisted, empty man would leave his cell and Nezumi to his bleak solitude.
"This doesn't have to be a prison for you," Lab Coat tried for a third time. "It's not meant to be a prison at all, in fact. We created your kind to shape a better future. The first generation believed in our mission; that's why they volunteered to be a part of Project Valiant. We should be working with each other, not against."
Nezumi's mouth twitched. It was not the beginnings of a smile or a scowl or a frown. It was just a fine-tuned twitch—a bullshit meter, of sorts. He had heard this rhetoric many times from the mouths of other Lab agents.
"According to Rashi, your first 'volunteers' were criminals who had nowhere else to go."
Lab Coat waved a hand, flippant. "Exactly. Because the old order failed them. Our society has reached the point of stagnation. Usually in such cases, nature finds a way to reset the balance: Climate change, disease, war...meteors."
A close-lipped smile flitted over the man's face, as if Nezumi was supposed to be in on a joke there, but Nezumi wasn't in a conciliatory mood. Lab Coat didn't seem to mind. He didn't need audience participation to get off on this particular topic. The man's body practically vibrated as he fell farther into his delusional ranting.
"But our stagnant period has gone on for decades, and yet nature has failed to reset the balance. Perhaps humanity has become too strong for Her—the child outgrowing the control of its mother, so to speak. Perhaps our society of rot and ruin has choked the life out of Her altogether. Regardless," he said fervently, "if nature cannot correct what's gone wrong, then it is our duty to set the record straight with our own hands. That's what Horizon Labs wants to do with its VCs. Create a better, stronger people, for a better, stronger future. You're a piece of something greater. You need only believe it.
"Help me further my research, and you'll be helping all of humanity. In the last decade we have been able to stabilize the serum, but we still don't know exactly why it affects those who take it the way it does. Why should you have mind powers, but another gains super strength? And why can your mind powers work through verbal command alone, but another with a similar power might only be able to affect a subject through skin-to-skin contact? These are the mysteries which we need all the VCs' help to solve. If we can figure out a cause-and-effect—if we could learn to predict what powers a person might unlock with the serum, and what makes those powers tick—then we can finally release our research into the world and begin a new era."
Lab Coat released an ecstatic breath. He had just spewed the greatest gospel of his life and was ready now for the sheep to trot happily into his deranged fold.
Nezumi always knew Horizon Labs was crazy, but he didn't realize until now that the place was run by literal insane people.
After a moment of grinning and panting, the man finally realized that his passionate sermon failed to leave Nezumi in raptures. His shoulders dropped and he lifted a wrist to fold back the cuff of his lab coat sleeve where it had come loose. He repeated the process, unnecessarily, on the opposite sleeve.
"I understand our dream is not everyone's," he said mildly. "Very well. Will an old-fashioned trade be to your liking? If you cooperate with me on the extent of your power, I will do something for you. Get you out of this cell and into your old one, for starters. You'll get your exercise and partner privileges back."
What am I, a pet?
Nezumi's hands flexed in his lap. But then he remembered he was dead inside and the ripple of irritation stilled.
"I can get you nearly anything you want in exchange for your cooperation."
"Bring Shion back."
Lab Coat raised his eyebrows a fraction. "You know that's impossible."
"Well, then, guess the Lab's out of luck." Nezumi turned his face aside. "Not my fault you killed your only bargaining chip."
Nezumi's heart twinged. It was wrong to throw Shion's death out as a reprisal. It was wrong that Shion was dead. He shouldn't have mentioned Shion at all. Now he couldn't stop thinking about Shion, with that big red 'Terminated' stamped over his face, his smiling face. Shion's eyes bright with the happiness of a moment Nezumi had not been a part of, a happiness Shion would never experience again. Shion, Shion, Shion—
STOP!
Nezumi squeezed his eyes shut. The charm bracelet jangled against his wrist as he fisted his hands tight. His cheeks were wet again.
Goddammit.
Nezumi took a breath, settled. He opened his eyes.
Lab Coat's mouth had turned down at the corners. Not sadness, not quite annoyance. Maybe dissatisfaction, maybe uncomprehending. Nezumi couldn't help but wonder what it would take to make this man mad.
Destroying all his work and burning Horizon Labs to the ground?
No, wait. That dream was gone. It died with Shion.
Nezumi grit his teeth and shoved the thought back down into the darkness of his mind.
"Be reasonable," Lab Coat soothed. "I don't have to make any deals with you at all, as you well know. I will order tests and examinations with or without your permission. There'll just be less of them if you're a willing participant. Horizon Labs doesn't make offers often. You're only getting this much consideration because you're a special case."
Lab Coat approached, stopping only an arms length away. Nezumi half turned his head and eyed the man askance. He was pale as the undead, and his icy eyes looked translucent in the light filtered through the lenses of his spectacles.
"You have lost much," the man said, his voice low and slithery, "but you still have something to offer the world. Your existence is a marvel, your sense of control impeccable. You could have a hand in the remaking of the world. Don't you want that? A world without fear, without fighting, where you can finally be who you are?"
"Of course." Nezumi turned to face the man fully. "I had that world—and you killed it."
"I see," the man sighed. "Well, I tried, I suppose."
Lab Coat crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his white lab coat grinding gently as he did so. He glanced up at the winking eye of the camera for a moment, as though exchanging a silent comment with whomever watched from the other side, then withdrew to the door. He knocked to signal whichever officers were outside that he was ready to come out.
"I hope you change your mind," he said, paused on the threshold of the solitary cell. "But I suppose even if you stay stubborn, there are other VCs who will see sense. With the right leverage, of course."
A smile tilted Lab Coat's mouth as he slipped from the room and the door slammed behind him.
This time when Shion heard the footfalls on the staircase, he controlled his fear.
He was tired of being afraid. What was the point? The worst had happened already: He had been captured by the Lab, he and Nezumi were separated, and he was defenseless. Shion had been brought to his lowest point, so the only way he could go from here was up.
Shion caught the worried glances of his friends and gave them a tight smile.
He had only known Rin, Hitomi, and Aki for a few days now, but he considered them friends already. They were good people, and strong for keeping their wits and good humor despite the nightmare that had become of their lives.
"It's OK," Shion said. "They're here for me. You don't have anything to worry about."
Whether the person stomping down the stairs was Lab Coat or the cleaner, Shion knew he would be the object of interest.
Shion's heart hoped for the cleaner. That interaction would be low-stress and he had a good feeling about his chances of reaching a rapport with the man. The man gave off the same aura as the superhumans Shion now boarded with: He had been swept into something much larger than himself, and was doing his best not to attract attention and to just keep his head above water.
The cleaner was human in a way that no one else from the Lab seemed to be. Shion desperately wanted to have the man on his side, if only to have an ally outside of his cage.
But Shion's tactical mind hoped that Lab Coat would be the one to walk through the door instead. He had no delusions that the scientist would have a change of heart and take pity upon his creations. The man had been working with Horizon Labs and tinkering with people's biology for over a decade, so any emotion he might have started with had been long worn away. But Shion needed intel in order to craft an escape plan, and Lab Coat was the only person who could give him the information he sought.
Lab Coat might also be the only person who knew where and how Nezumi was.
The steps on the staircase ceased, and the world stood quiet for a breath. Then the door opened and Lab Coat walked through. He seemed to be in good humor as he sauntered over to Shion's cage and stopped before the glass.
"Good morning. You're looking better."
Shion swallowed the fluttering heartbeat in the back of his throat and nodded. "My throat's healed."
"Lovely. Are you still feeling tired? Nauseated?"
"No."
Lab Coat's smile stretched. "Perfect," he purred. "Then I think you're ready for your first set of tests. Mr. Rikiga," he called.
Shion's throat dried up, but he kept his face as neutral as he could. He would not give this man the pleasure of seeing his anxiety.
Lab Coat frowned, and Shion thought he might have been displeased with Shion's lack of emotional response, but then the man twisted around and peered back towards the door.
"Mr. Rikiga, what are you doing? Get in here; you're embarrassing us in front of our newest subject."
The door, which had been slightly ajar, edged open and the cleaner's broad form squeezed through. He carried a small black briefcase, his meaty hand completely enveloping the handle. The man—Rikiga—glanced at Lab Coat with evident dislike, but the fear mixed in cut the edge off the leer.
When Rikiga met Shion's eyes across the expanse, his expression crumpled.
Lab Coat clucked his tongue. "Come over, Mr. Rikiga," he said, his tone long suffering, and then he returned his attention to Shion. "We'll need to move to another room for the tests today. The dampeners in your bloodstream will prevent you from using your power, but we're going to give you a light sedative to move you into that room over there."
He pointed to the wall to Shion's right. The surface looked smooth and featureless to his eyes at first, but because he was looking for it, Shion soon perceived a faint outline of a door set into the wall.
"I know the sedative seems like overkill, but I've learned never to underestimate the strength of the fight or flight response. I'll counter-dose you when you're safely on the table."
Table? A thrill of fear shot through Shion's chest. Instinctively, his eyes darted toward his cellmates. Nothing in any of their expressions gave him hope.
When Shion wrenched his gaze back to Lab Coat, Rikiga hovered by the man's elbow.
The scientist pushed his spectacles up his nose and clasped his hands behind him. "Please stand against the far wall of your cell, and I'll let Mr. Rikiga in to give you the injection. Be nice to the man; he's only doing his job."
Shion suppressed a shudder. It's OK, he told himself. I can do this. I have to do this. Everyone's counting on me.
He clasped his hand over his bare wrist for comfort and took a step back. Then another, and another, until he was pressed up against the far wall. Lab Coat stepped forward and laid his palm on the front of the glass. A biometric screen popped up and whirred around the man's palm a moment before blinking green and chiming cheerily. A partition in the front of the cage slid down into the floor.
Shion tried to catch Rikiga's eye as the large man shuffled into the cell and set the black briefcase on the bed, but Rikiga stubbornly avoided eye contact. He opened the case to reveal a thin-needle syringe and a tiny vial of golden liquid.
Shion's throat ached at the sight of it. He pressed himself harder into the wall as Rikiga filled the syringe and moved toward him.
"Mr. Rikiga," Shion whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. "Please…"
"Shh." The shush was not censure, but nor was it comfort.
Rikiga took Shion's arm and turned it gently so that the crook of his elbow was exposed. The needle stung as it pierced the thin skin there, and Shion swore he could feel the sedative seeping like warm molasses through his veins.
"Just do what he says, kid," Rikiga murmured so that only he would hear. "It's easier that way." He slapped a pad of gauze over the injection site and pinned it in place with medical tape.
Shion's brain buzzed, adrenaline pumping through his limbs a mile a minute, fighting against the effects of the sedative. Rikiga was talking to him, commiserating with him. Lab Coat stood closeby, but he probably couldn't hear. This could be his chance to form a bond of empathy between them—
—Shion woke to blinding lights. He was in a sitting position and his limbs felt heavy. After a moment, he realized it was because they were in restraints.
He didn't expect the sedative to work that quickly. One moment he had been staring into Rikiga's face, about to speak, and then he blinked and he was here, strapped to a chair in a brilliantly white, sterile-looking office.
The air was chilly in the room, pricking goosebumps on Shion's bare flesh—he was shirtless, he realized with a sick start. His jumpsuit hadn't been completely removed, but was folded down around his waist in a wrinkly green pool of fabric. Multi-colored wires were stuck to his chest and head like some sort of weird sci-fi set up you'd expect from a movie scene, but not real life.
Lab Coat sat in a chair adjacent to him. A large black machine sat on the desk in front of the man, along with a shiny silver microscope. Paperwork and sticky notes coated the areas around both objects. Across the room stood a line of cabinets and counters, crammed with test tubes and beakers and other experimental apparatuses.
Shion flinched as something pinched the crook of his arm: Lab Coat had withdrawn a needle from his skin. The man gave him a pleasant smile as he bandaged the puncture wound to match the one on his other arm.
"There we are. That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Lab Coat said.
The man's smile and mild words were an eerie imitation of a regular doctor's visit. Shion didn't like it one bit, but at least he wasn't alone with this creepy man; Rikiga was still in company, standing uncomfortably in the corner, as if distance could excuse him from complicity.
"Today is going to be a routine data collection. Nothing to be scared about…" Lab Coat glanced down at a tablet screen on his desk and chuckled. "Though I guess me saying that won't stop you from fearing the worst. Your heart rate just went from 60 to 110."
Shion didn't think that was so amusing, but he did think he should try to relax. It was useless to try to appear absolutely unafraid of the man when he had machine readings telling him the truth. But Shion could at least muster some self control and not let the fear get the better of him.
"Are there going to be more needles?" he managed.
Lab Coat peered up at him over his spectacles, his pale eyes shifting subtly back and forth over Shion's face. "That depends on you. Are you going to behave?"
"I have to," Shion said slowly. "I only have two arms, after all."
Shion wasn't sure why that was what came out of his mouth. It seemed like something Rin would say, or Nezumi.
Lab Coat glanced down at Shion's gauzed arms. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yes," he said, equally as slowly. "And I did promise I wouldn't stick you in the neck again, didn't I?"
Shion's stomach clenched.
Lab Coat eyed his tablet, chuckled again, and rose from his chair. "I'm going to take some vitals, blood samples, and dental impressions, and see where we are after that. If you're being very cooperative, I might run some tests of your power."
Shion tried to keep his face unreadable, but he knew his heart rate must have shot up again—except this time the change was from excitement. If he bided his time and built a tenuous trust with his jailor, he might be able to get somewhere useful.
"But of course, if we get that far, I will have fail-safes in place. You'll still have dampeners to curb the majority of your power, and I will have an electric prong pressed into your side the entire time, in case you get too excited. It's not ideal—the ideal would be Mr. Rikiga holding the prong while I conducted the tests," Lab Coat gestured vaguely in the cleaner's direction, and Rikiga's face pinched in distress, "but Mr. Rikiga has proven to be somewhat of a...a pacifist," Lab Coat scoffed, "for lack of a better word. He can't be trusted to shock first, ask questions later. And so, as always, all the work falls to me. But I digress."
Lab Coat turned away and began readying something across the room that Shion couldn't see. But even if he could, his mind had gone elsewhere in the midst of the man's monologue.
Lab Coat was a big talker. He couldn't seem to stop talking and giving details where no one asked and they weren't needed. Shion filed the detail away as Lab Coat returned.
He had another syringe. Shion grit his teeth.
"Sorry. I need blood samples," Lab Coat said, without an ounce of remorse. "But we can leave these until the end so your arms get a break."
The man ran Shion through a few typical medical check up tests: temperature, reflexes, eyesight. Rikiga helped when asked, but mostly he just hung back and looked miserable. After every trial, Lab Coat went back to his tablet and entered the data in.
Shion's anxiety eased some, but it was always there, burning at the back of his mind whenever the man spoke to him or came too close. There was a reason why Rin and Hitomi reacted so violently whenever the stairs rang, and Shion had no doubt he was due to find out that reason soon enough.
Lab Coat smiled at Shion after he finished inputting his results of a brainwave measuring test. "You're being so helpful. I wish all VCs were as well behaved as you. I'd almost believe you were a mere L- or M-class if I hadn't seen the results of your power for myself."
Shion bit back the nausea he felt at that comment. Lab Coat could only be talking about the incident at the Yoshidas', and Shion did not want to revisit that memory.
"What do those classifications mean?"
"They're threat levels. L is Lesser, M is Moderate, and S is Strong. S-class are meant to be eliminated, but, well… Science must allow for some rule bending." The corners of Lab Coat's eyes crinkled as he grinned. It was the first time Shion had seen the man's teeth. They were perfectly white, but not at all straight on the bottom jaw. "Everyone down here is sworn to secrecy, on pain of death."
Lab Coat didn't look at Rikiga when he said it, but being the only other free agent down here, he could be referring to no one else.
Shion nodded. "That makes sense. So if you're not an S-class threat, you would be put somewhere else in the building?"
"Yes. We have several cell blocks above."
"Do you separate them by the types of power they have?"
"To an extent. We have developed a system of organizing the VCs for maximum safety and efficiency."
"Do the VCs ever interact with each other?"
"I know what you're doing." Lab Coat's light eyes glittered at him from behind his spectacles.
Shion's skin went cold and clammy. "What?"
"You're fishing… You want to know about your friend, don't you? The telepathic."
Shion's breath caught in his throat. "You have him, don't you?" His voice was tight with emotion, but he didn't care about how he sounded or looked if it meant that he could hear something about Nezumi. "Please. Is he alright?"
Rikiga stopped staring at the wall and glanced over at Shion, his face confused and more than a little troubled.
Lab Coat considered the question, but his expression didn't reveal much in the way of answers. Eventually, he said, "We have him upstairs. He's healthy. Very stubborn, though."
A choked laugh pushed past Shion's lips. It wasn't funny, really, but he was so relieved to hear that Nezumi was alive. He believed he was—he didn't think the Lab would have killed Nezumi after all they had done to capture him—but Shion thought Nezumi might have done something reckless when they were attacked at the cabin.
But Nezumi was healthy. He was still being his stubborn self. That was good.
"Has he asked for me? Does he know I'm here?"
Lab Coat settled back in his chair. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"
"Yes," Shion nearly gasped.
"Hm." The man steepled his fingers and glanced over at Rikiga. Rikiga glanced away immediately once he realized he was under scrutiny. Lab Coat sniffed and turned back to Shion. "Let's make a deal, then. I'll give you status updates on your friend if you promise to behave and follow my every instruction. That means no fighting, no misbehaving, no saying no. Deal?"
Shion pressed himself back into his chair. He could feel the itch of the wires pulled taut against his skin.
Sell his soul for tidbits on Nezumi? It wasn't a fair trade. It's not like he could refuse the man anything anyway; he would just take where Shion refused to give. And Shion couldn't fully agree to his terms; he would play along only so long as it was useful. Once he had a plan and resources, Shion would make a break for it. He could find Nezumi on his own.
And yet.
"Deal," Shion said.
"Good boy," Lab Coat crooned. "Let's take that blood, shall we?"
Shion obediently held his aching arm out and let the man prick the bruised skin.
Across the room, Rikiga frowned, but said nothing.