Crystal113 & Alien and Alfie: You ask what is happening with Lucas, and this section will answer. As for Nora 'n Trev…you'll just have to wait. Muwahahaha! Btw, thanks so much for the encouragement! It keeps me goin'. ~ brought to you by Lampetia, answering reader's questions (slowly) one chapter at a time ;)
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It was close to two a.m. when Sergeant Manning entered into the observation room kept actively running in the center of the D.C. military base.
Dr. Rieker was the first one to notice his presence. Vigilant as ever, he broke away from instructing his team and greeted him with a smile born of pride. "Sergeant."
The sergeant fell into step beside him. "I received your report."
"You look pleased," Rieker commented as they neared the compartment that had kept Mutant #27 under observation for the past twenty-four hours.
Manning's features only displayed a muted version of his satisfaction, but he was pleased. He had been more than pleasantly surprised by the report he had found on his desk that morning. His team of scientists had effectively pooled their resources, and the behavior modification administered to the mutant had yielded positive results. While this occurrence should not have been anything too extraordinary – as his officers fully understood that excellence was to be their standard – the relief the results brought was considerable.
It had granted the sergeant a much needed sense of confirmation. If Mutant #27 retained most of his original power and could be trained to use it on command in the field, the mission could not be considered a failure. Success with Mutant #27 would mean that the sergeant had been correct in leaving his men in battle. The soldiers who lost their lives had not died needlessly, and if Manning could go back, he would have nothing to change.
He allowed himself to indulge in the small moment of self-assurance. After the events of the past couple days, there had not been much cause to be hopeful.
That sensation aside, Manning's thoughts returned to the report. "I trust there were no exaggerations," he checked out of habit.
"No, no exaggerations," Rieker ruled out. "Predictions, but no exaggerations. I'll admit we are confident, but as you can plainly see, we have been given every reason to be."
"You said two weeks."
"That is what we have estimated, yes. Should the approximation lessen or increase, you, Sergeant, as always will be the first to know."
As Dr. Rieker predictably went into a full discourse of what they had found since the morning report, Manning took in the atmosphere of the workroom. What had at one point been a generally spacious observation room had transformed into a work hall with desks and computers dispersed throughout the station. As he listened, he instinctively studied the movements of the scientists as they bustled around him. The handful of men and women working regarded him with respect once they noticed him, but few looked up from their work.
At first, Manning had presumed that their intense readiness to work had been orchestrated by Rieker to demonstrate to the senior officer how seriously dedicated they were to the cause. However, their vigor was no show. Had they suddenly moved into a flurry as they anticipated their sergeant's arrival, they would have been certain to show more energy in their movements. But the scientists before him were not fueled by a need to impress. Their long faces and the dark bags under their eyes belayed a serious fatigue. The only thing pushing them was a mix of heavily caffeinated liquids and a full understanding of the importance of their work.
The progress gained with #27 was no turn of chance. It had been reached through the unfaltering work of his scientists at the sweat of their brow.
Their hurried movements were ones that Manning could appreciate.
Manning spoke overtop of one of Rieker's repeated ramblings. "I see your team hasn't stopped since the mutant arrived."
The doctor cooperatively changed gears. "Every member was fully aware the circumstances when they agreed to be part of the team. We have been working around the clock, but we work in shifts. Hopefully as the structure of our research clarifies, we will not need so many minds at work. Though I have promised that all who took part in the early designs will have their names associated with the study."
"Make certain that each assistant receives a decent amount of rest." He looked to the holding chamber. "The same pertains to the subject involved. A collapse of exhaustion on his part or yours will do nothing to further results."
Rieker's exaggerated nod showed that he had been expecting him to make such a comment. "A sleep schedule has already been drawn up for the subject."
"Good. Proceed as you have so far. Continue to inform me of all your findings on a regular interval." He gave a distinct pause. "No matter what the outcome."
Rieker grasped the underlying translation all too well. Manning would much rather receive unpleasant news than be led astray by good intentions.
"Sergeant Manning," Rieker said with the slightest smile. "It would never even occur to me to do otherwise."
Assuaged by the answer, Manning walked back through the maze of scientists at their workstations. This time as he passed, he offered each scientist who looked his way a small smile. The rare gesture was one he could afford. With the added pressure to produce further results, his team would need all the encouragement they could get.
As he was about to leave the room, a lone figure caught his eye, and the sergeant paused in his stride.
Officer Lexin Grey stood solidly at the back of the room.
It was as if the officer had been alerted of the sergeant's stare by some internal radar. He looked up to Manning, an anticipating hilt to his gaze. The sergeant merely nodded his acknowledgement, letting him know that at the moment he had no instructions to give him. Lexin returned the gesture and averted his eyes back to the scene before him.
Manning did nothing more. He fully understood what held the officer's interest.
This was a subject Lexin Grey had personally obtained, though much effort and toil. If he had endured the trials Grey had to ensure the mutant's presence in their program, Manning would have taken time to inspect #27's advancement as well.
* * * * *
When Manning left the observation room, Lexin Grey stayed behind. His cold blue eyes remained fixed upon the mutant, standing stationary inside the metal holding chamber.
Logically, Lexin understood the scientific value of the mutant before him. Direct improvement had been made over a short period of time, and with these cases, that kind of outcome was difficult to come by. The team had more than earned their success, and the military part of him was able to share in his sergeant's good fortune.
It was that side of Lexin that restrained him from striding up, opening the door of the observation room, and calmly firing off his military-issued handgun right into #27's head.
A sneer appeared in his mind though it never touched his face. It was that second part of Lexin that made him feel as though he was playing his own part in a circus freak show – a freak show that was costing the military countless dollars and endless hours of labor to produce. Even if #27 eventually did reach some true level of usefulness as Manning's team so hoped he would, in Lexin's mind the mutant would always be nothing more than an irritant, like a splinter grating just beneath the skin.
Admittedly, such a small laceration caused no imminent harm. The aggravation it caused was simple to erase. Using primitive tools, you could easily be rid of the small contamination.
But as much as the splinter irritated and stung beneath the surface, its existence never remained in the forefront of your mind. You could convince yourself that it wasn't worth the effort, and for the most part, its incidence could be ignored. You could easily preoccupy yourself with more pressing matters and become distracted by the immediate needs your roles required. For awhile, you could even forget that it was there.
However, at the end of the day, there the splinter rested, unhindered. Still visible under the film of skin, still bubbling with infection from lack of care, reminding you with unavoidable clarity of its continued prevalence.
On the outside, Lexin's breathing remained normal. His blood pressure never rose; his jaw never tightened. He stood straight and tall with a calm dignity that came as naturally to him as any other inborn bodily instinct. To any onlooker, he appeared to be just as he advertised. A collected man taking in his atmosphere, most likely absorbed in the more important thoughts his position called him to think about.
But beneath the surface, Lexin was boiling. This creature. This mockery of evolution. This mutant, after all his crimes and grisly exploits, was being kept alive as a glorified artifact, as living proof that even the most dangerous mutants could be controlled in captivity by the modern drugs medical science afforded them.
The mutant before him was a reminder that no matter how thoroughly Lexin understood the imminent danger mutants posed to humanity, he could do little to alter the events transpiring before his very eyes.
Lexin watched as a series of wires were attached to the mutant's bare chest. When the doctor gave the signal, shockwaves were sent through his body. When the mutant involuntarily jolted backwards from the force, Lexin's face belayed the tiniest satisfied smile. It was small recompense, knowing that somewhere Lucas Blaize was suffering, but it was satisfaction all the same.
He hoped it was true that the mutants could physically feel every sensation that touched their skin, and he hoped it hurt like hell.
Across from him, another figure stood just as silently, barely visible against the sidewall. Watching the officer's reaction, Dr. Sierra Bentley gathered her own suspicions. Though Lexin wasn't aware, she had seen the nearly undetectable smile cross his face, and the unmistakable glint in his eyes.
The small traces provided immeasurable proof that his connection with Mutant #27 had not ended at the subject's entrance into the scientific study.
It was an observation Dr. Bentley would not soon forget.
