Sorry about the wait, guys! Hope you enjoy!
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Sergeant Manning's strong strides held purpose as he made his way into the arrival room. Several hours before, he had gotten the call. The two subjects had somehow evaded Lexin Grey's army and were en route to a small campground in Mountaintop, Pennsylvania. Immediately, he dispatched two units armed with heavy artillery, giving them strict orders to detain the subjects, cleanse the area of their arrival, and return to base as quickly as possible.
Manning heaved a controlled sigh. Though he fully understood the necessity of reinforcements, he disliked the actual practice of employing them. They were a precaution, a reassurance should something not go according to plan. The very act of using them alluded to inaccuracy, confirmed a weakness.
Reaching the arrival room, he received formal acknowledgements from his officials and surveyed the area, remembering his priorities. He gave no indications that he was anything except a military sergeant in complete control of his surroundings.
Inconsistencies could be dealt with at a later date, he reminded himself. The two new mutants would arrive only once.
Putting aside his anxieties, he focused on the first helicopter as it made its descent and watched closely as its occupants scurried onto the platform.
Strong gusts of wind and an irrational fear of being caught by the blades caused his team to hunch their backs as they moved into the hanger, but one did not. A mutant with glowing red eyes in a bloodied t-shirt and jeans stood out among the crowd. The subject obediently followed two men who held him tightly by the arms, but stood straight and tall against the heavy air currents, unable to lean down without their permission.
Watching vigilantly, Manning allowed himself the luxury of a slight smile as the mutant was led inside and immediately placed into custody. A security team systematically padded him for weaponry and found a cell phone and wallet in his back pocket. Under the watchful eye of their superior, the men did a second check, and a class ring was taken off of the mutant's right hand.
The first team stepped away, and one of their scientists came forward, securing a lightweight metal helmet to his forehead. The sergeant's muscles tensed slightly at the safety measure. They had yet to fully validate that the 'helmet' Erik Lehnsherr claimed blocked telepathy actually could, but so far, the test results had shown to be positive.
Manning blinked, changing his gaze as sure footsteps sounded beside him. Turning, he came face to face with Officer Lexin Grey, who regarded him with a sharp salute.
"At ease, officer," Manning said. He smiled proudly at his official, and was about to congratulate him on a job well done, when his eyes locked onto the third and final helicopter landing behind them. A lone navigator and pilot exited the craft and closed the doors behind them before making their way into the hanger.
Frowning, Manning's eyes searched the platform as well as the rest of the arrival room before they landed accusingly back upon Grey. "Where's the other subject?" he demanded.
At his officer's continued silence, the sergeant felt his jaw tighten. "I specifically ordered the confinement of two mutants, Grey. Not one."
Lexin fixed his cold glare upon the sergeant.
Sighing deeply, Manning worked to compose himself as his eyes filled with disapproval.
"Sergeant Manning?"
A dark-skinned woman with smooth black hair stood before him, void of her usual air of confidence.
"Yes, what is it?" he demanded tersely.
Dr. Sierra Bentley lowered her voice. "There's been another problem with subject number 9."
Manning put up a hand to stop her. "Just deal with it," he softly intoned.
Pursing her lips in annoyance, Bentley opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. She glanced to Lexin and then back at Manning. Though she had undergone years of medical training, it did not take all of her mental capacity to note the tension between them. She stepped back, deciding to save her complaints for when they would be better received.
Manning turned to ignore her as Lexin Grey stood at attention.
"Mutant number twenty-seven has been delivered," he simply affirmed. "If my regular duties could be postponed, I do have calls to make to the families of the men who gave their lives in combat. Their bodies are on the way to the morgue as we speak, but proper burial services will have to be scheduled."
Manning closed his eyes as he nodded. "You are dismissed, officer," he allowed.
With a curt nod, Lexin passed the sergeant and quickly trailed into the hallway.
Blinking at his taut movements, Dr. Bentley's heels clicked behind him as she hurried to follow him out of the room. "Officer Grey," she called.
He paused in his stride, pivoting at the heel. "Yes, Bentley."
The doctor took in a pensive breath, and for a moment she tried to study him. Her brown eyes peered deeply into his, but whatever Lexin had been thinking remained hidden well behind his strict veneer of professionalism. When he raised his eyebrows, she sighed and broke her gaze. "Nothing," she said.
The exchange was a common occurrence. Figuring out Lexin Grey was a task she often failed to accomplish.
"Dr. Bentley." An older doctor in a lab coat and slacks similar to her own walked up to her, causing her to stand taller in competence. "Carnahan had to leave early. Would you mind taking his shift? We've got a new subject in Lab 17."
Bentley regarded the doctor with a cooperative nod. "That would be fine."
"I'd appreciate it."
"It's not a problem," she said. After watching the doctor retreat back down the pristine military hallway, Bentley looked back to Lexin.
They stood there alone in the hallway for a few more moments before Bentley's voice lowered in sincerity. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked.
"Later," he decided.
Nodding, she turned her back to him, allowing the officer to return to his phone calls. She sighed. Their meetings often ended in such a manner. Looming through the familiar military complex, she ordered all thoughts of Lexin to leave her and reached her destination in record time.
The moment she entered into the room, a soldier's perplexed stare greeted her. "Where's Carnahan?"
"Left early," she answered. Securing a pair of protective gloves around her hands, she placed a thin white cloth overtop her head and a mask to cover her face. "I'll be taking over his shift. Any precautions I should know about?"
"He's been behaving himself, now that the drug's been administered." Behind the soldier, a team of two men led the young mutant into the room and had him come to a stop at a slick metal table. One of the soldiers handed her a clipboard with some basic information about the mutant, and then moved towards the door to wait for her to finish the physical.
"When was the last dosage given?" she asked, looking over his sheet.
"0600 hours."
After marking it down on a graph, Bentley set her watch, just in case the examination took longer than expected, and looked over her shoulder to find several vials filled with the synthetic drug, resting in their place behind her. Her brow furrowed as she read over his chart. With mutants, you could never be sure.
"Will you be requiring my assistance?" the soldier checked with her.
It was a customary question, not an offer. "No," Bentley said.
Nodding politely, the soldier left the room, letting the door slam behind him and leaving two men stationed by the door.
Releasing a deep breath, Bentley took a serious look at the mutant before her. He was a tall, well-built Caucasian boy with dark brown hair that slicked back against the device covering his head. She looked down at the spreadsheet. According to the chart, he'd had green eyes before they administered the serum. She gave a mocking sigh as she inspected his injuries. From the look of his face and arms, he had not come without a fight.
Bentley put the clipboard down with a 'click' onto the metal table. "Arms up."
The mutant responded, and Dr. Bentley went to work, cutting away his grimy t-shirt and applying ointment and bandages to his various cuts and bruises. After all his lacerations were cleaned, she had him undress and went into procedure, checking him for various abrasions or signs of disease. Working quickly, she was able to fill the chart within a matter of hours, and when he was dressed in his military-issued clothing, she returned him promptly back into the soldiers' custody.
"Here." She handed them the clipboard along with one of the vials behind her. "He'll need this in another four hours." The soldiers nodded their understanding. "Take him across the hall. He still needs a number."
Leading the mutant away from the lab, the soldiers obediently entered into the room across the hall and once again had him remove his shirt.
A clean needle dug across his right upper bicep, tattooing the digits '0027' into his skin with dark blue ink.
The mutant endured, never flinching, unable to complain of the burning sensation that sunk deep into his skin, or the humiliation of having his identity replaced by a number.
