"How does lunch in Rome sound?" His voice echoed through the unending silence.
There was a pause before the answer came. "Hmmm, not bad. After that, say we go surfing somewhere around Oahu?"
"Nah, done that already."
"Oh true. We could go to the Grand Canyon again?"
"No."
"Snowboarding in the Alps?"
"Sure. Let's try and pick a different slope this time though."
"Yes, of course."
"You're talking to yourself again."
A sigh. "I am, aren't I? Oh well…"
Brian slowly sat up from his position draped upside down across his chair. He let the remote he'd been clutching drop to the floor with a muffled clatter. He'd been doing it again. Talking to himself, that is. He did it a lot nowadays.
He didn't know how long he'd been like this. Been here, in this void, that is. Heck, he didn't even know how long he'd been out. Maybe he really wasn't unconscious. This revelation struck him as shocking and surprisingly clear. Perhaps everything he remembered that he thought was real was just a memory stolen from someone else….
"Stop it!" He screamed to himself. He could debate and think about it until he curled up and died and he would probably still not know.
Oh how he longed to talk to a real living person again. Or to really move, to go beyond these walls that held him and to do what he pleased, not just to be a witness to the pleasures of others. Brian Tandon wanted to be free.
But alas, he was not free. He was a prisoner in the depths of his own mind.
"So what should we do today?"
"I don't know. What did you have in mind?…"
_____________________________________________________________
Eric Magnus Lehnsherr drummed his fingers against the walls of his plastic prison. This new containment cell wasn't nearly as large as his former cell years ago – the one that had held him directly after the failed operation on Liberty Island. He sighed.
The great Magneto sat bound to a plastic version of a dentist's chair looking thing. His wrists, ankles, and thighs were bound to the chair with thick, molded straps that were unable to move even the slightest.
Had he not been in this position, Eric probably would never have felt the slight mental nudge. It was something Charles had taught him to identify years ago. He couldn't prevent the intrusion, not with out his helmet.
He chuckled though. "Digging around again, eh Charles?" He said aloud in a dry whisper. His throat was parched and hoarse.
The presence promptly left. Eric let out another soft chuckle.
He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled then let out his breath slowly. As he opened his eyes, he slowly turned his left arm so the underside faced upwards. His eyes drifted over the blurred and somewhat faded blue numbers then lowered his eyes another inch. A new, sharp copy of the numbers had been reprinted when he came here.
He had sworn he would never go back to Auschwitz. He would never go through that again. Yet here he was.
Different place, different time. The first time, he had been reborn – given these amazing gifts through the pain and suffering. He feared this time the road of pain and suffering would end in the crematory.
Magneto sighed and closed his eyes.
___________________________________________________
"Your saying we knew this all the time?" Elanovich's superior officer, a Dr. Alan G. Harper inquired angrily. Between the two lay the open file of the Mutant formerly known as IV-40225-6.
Elanovich remarkably remembered the boy. With the hundreds of patients he saw, this fact partly surprised him. But yes, he remembered the boy quite well. Sun bleached pale brown hair, a bit tall, overall fairly average. What was his name? Elanovich struggled to remember. Brett? Bobby? Brian! Yes, that was it, Brian.
"We knew this?" Alan Harper repeated; his temper was rising. "How many other InVies out there could be in this same condition then?"
Elanovich turned his drifting attention back to his red-faced superior. He nodded slowly with caution. "Actually," He began, shuffling through a separate stack of papers. "My assistant first suspected this. These are the Mutant's mental records from the last year, since we began the routine tests. As you can see," Elanovich said, trailing off to point out the staccato yet steadily uprising line on the graph. "There is an obvious increase in the mutants mental activity."
"So what are you saying?" Harper questioned.
"Yes, we could have prevented it. The test didn't necessarily mean he was a mutant though." Elanovich attempted to defend himself.
"Your assistant recognized it. You seem to have brushed it aside, Elanovich."
"My assistant also accused several dozen others of being mutants in a mere few days." Elanovich snapped back indignantly.
"Where is your assistant? I have a few questions I would like to ask them." Harper declared standing up to leave.
Elanovich looked up at the taller man from over his metal-framed glasses. He slowly stood up to join the other Doctor.
"Vivian Tseng is no longer with us." He said coldly.
"Oh?"
"She proved to be…. More of a problem than we bargained for." Elanovich said slowly and carefully.
"Well then do you know how I could reach her?"
Elanovich shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sir. Perhaps if you contacted one of the other departments. They might have some information on her whereabouts." With that, Elanovich walked across the room to the front door and held it open for his unwelcome guest.
____________________________________________
Turned out, Brian and himself decided to skip the Roman lunch and browse around the base for a while. He was curious to see if he could find anything useful. Perhaps eventually he could signal someone outside with the information, like that group up in Canada. That is, if they ever ceased in their bickering. Over the last few weeks he had been occasionally dropping in for a silent little visit and that's all they ever seemed to do – argue, argue, argue.
Absently, Brian hummed to himself as he began to flip through the channels on his television set. He often wondered why it was like this, why he could browse through scenes in such a way. Quickly, he brushed this thought away. He didn't dare ask questions about the reasons 'why' anymore.
He saw the walls of the Doctor's office flash by, the darkened halls of some unknown bunker, a room filled wall to wall with state of the art computers, a weapons cache, his name and number stenciled on a steel door, a group of guards strolling to some unknown location outside, and…..Wait! He had seen his name?
Brian quickly reversed his search till he saw the door again. He squinted at the screen and it was clear the door bore his name. 'Tandon, Brian' was stenciled on the door in bold black lettering, with a smaller print of his number and several more numbers directly below. A hand came into view, long thin fingers hitting buttons on the door's security lock. Brian took this chance to fully enter into the person. His room faded away as the Television's image engulfed everything. Within seconds, he was completely seeing and feeling everything his host was.
He caught a glimpse of his host's reflection in the smudge free stainless steel door as they waited to enter the cell. His host a petite woman dressed like a doctor. She looked to be possibly East Indian, but he wasn't sure. She was carrying a tray of something, but he was unsure of what it was. Before he could look any further, the door slid open with the quiet hiss of decompressing air and she walked in.
Immediately, Brian noticed the cell's unusual appearance.
It was several feet bigger than his former cell, and as they entered he noticed the walls were exceptionally thick. Up against the wall on the right was an elevated table, like the type used by doctors and such. Upon that table lay his body. It was just as he had last left it, except he was missing his stained, tattered T-shirt. Still though, in the back of his mind he noted he would miss that when he awoke. But with the missing shirt, he could see dozens of electrodes taped on to his chest and arms, with even more on his neck and head. The multi-colored wires from the electrodes all led back to a small processing unit attached to a computer system of some sort.
His body walked over to the computer and their long fingers began rapidly typing into the attached keyboard to access the patient's file. Once they entered it, she began to enter a series of numbers and codes then closed the electronic file as quickly as she had opened it. She then turned to the tray she had set down on a self underneath the computer and withdrew a clipboard. She began with reading the patient's file. As she did this, Brian did as well and was shocked with what he read.
July 12, 2008.
Patient ID: IV-40225-6 (Tandon, Brian)
Mutant ID: Mutant 40225
Notice:
40225 experienced mutation at approximately 5:17 PM July 11, 2007. Mutation is unknown at this point. Believed to be a telepathic ability, not physical. 40225 is to be kept sedated at all times and is scheduled to be put on Serum 128 as soon as possible. For further details, see page 22B of this file or contact Dr. Elanovich of the 'B-Block'.
His host flipped through the folder to the continuation of the document.
May 3, 2009.
Mutant 40225 has, upon extensive study, been found of showing early signs of mutation. These signs went unnoticed by Doctors Elanovich and Tseng. As of date they are currently under investigation by the Federal Government.
His host browsed down the text until She came to a paragraph towards the end.
... 40225 has been assumed to have a telepathic mutation. Our experts believe it has the ability to project his consciousness to wherever he wishes. A full examination is at this point prohibited, as there are direct orders for the mutant to be kept heavily sedated. It is believed its power ranges much further beyond this but we are confident these will remain dormant until 40225 is taken off medication.
40225 is to be given 2.5 grams of...
His host stopped reading. She quickly skimmed over the doses of medication, which had meant nothing to him, then had abruptly closed the file. Her gaze drifted back up to his unconscious body then back down to the multiple full syringes resting on the tray. Again, she looked back up at him, then gazed quickly around the room. She bit her lip as she looked around and then back down at the tray. She sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead before getting up to leave. She picked up the still full tray and whispered a quiet 'Good luck' as she waited for the door to reopen so she could leave.
Brian was stunned as he witnessed this. Did this mean he was going to wake up? Could he even do that anymore? It sounded like the medication was what was preventing him from doing so, not his being lost or trapped. How long would it take? How long? The question repeated itself over and over again as he remained in the young nurse's mind. He had completely forgotten he had planned to check up on the Canadian group.
How long until he woke up? That was all Brian could consider.
___________________________________________________________________
"I got it," John said as he loudly flipped his cell phone shut while striding confidently into the group's makeshift planning room. Mystique and Logan glanced up from their positions draped around various places in the room. Logan rolled his eyes before taking another swig of his beer.
Growing irritated, John took a few steps closer to the two. "Perhaps you didn't hear me." He began, his voice stressed. "I just got Mos Etta to fully join with us."
To this Mystique looked up. "Impressive. How long?" She said shortly.
John looked down at his watch. "As of about four hours ago. They already had one of theirs infiltrating the base. They promised some assistance while they had their girl in."
Mystique nodded. "When will we know?"
John shrugged. "Soon, I guess." With that he turned to the fridge and withdrew a beer. He moved to sit down in the faded and torn armchair they had retrieved a few weeks prior. He opened the top and was about to take a sip when Logan's head snapped up.
"Hey, kid," He began in protest.
John gave an annoyed look. "Logan, I'm 22, I think I'm legal." He snapped before taking a long drink.
"What's eating you?" Logan said with a hint of sarcasm as John hurriedly consumed the beverage.
"I just spent the last two weeks trying to negotiate with a band of Middle Eastern fricking mutant terrorists. I finally talk them into helping us and what thanks do I get?" John demanded as he stood and began gesturing madly with his arms.
Then, John just stopped. He was frozen in place, just staring blindly. The abrupt silence caught the attention of both the ageless adults as they stared. Moments later, John slowly blinked. He took in a deep breath and then a few more rapid blinks followed. Slowly and cautiously he moved his hand a few inches. His eyes were transfixed on the motion. Then suddenly he gave a victorious shout.
"John?"
His head snapped back to the to on the couch. His face broke out in an unnaturally oversized grin.
"I did it." He whispered in awe.
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A/N: Just wanted to say another big thanks to you all who review! Y'all are the absolute best! And all you reading and not reviewing, you know who you are…your still okay, but you should review ;)
