Chapter 1:
"Dr. Jacque Rausenbleum, how wonderful to meet you." The reporter smiled before reaching across her desk to shake hands with Dr. Rausenbluem, accompanied by a tall young woman. "And this must be your wife, Ms. Summers. Welcome Dr. Rausenbluem, Ms. Summers." Hardly old enough to be considered a man, Jacques Rausenbluem took the reporter's hand in his and very lightly brushed his lips over the top of her palm. The reporter blushed madly. Composing herself, she smoothed her skirt out then took a seat. Jacque did the same. He was dressed in a finely tailored black and gray tweed jacket, his chin squared; brown eyes warm beneath thin black eyebrows. His lips curled into an amiable smile.
"Thank you for having us Jeanne." Dr. Rausenbluem spoke with a light French accent. He placed his hand over his "wife's". "And Ms. Summers hasn't said "I do" just yet."
Ada laughed, emerald-green eyes glittering. The reporter smiled again, shuffling the papers on her desk as she sought to find the right one.
"I apologize. Now, please, tell me Dr. Rausenbluem," She found the paper she had been looking for. "I'm sure you're aware of the numerous rumors that have been crossing the globe. You've created a, correct me if I'm wrong," She paused, searching for the right words. "A phylogenetic distribution of regenerative abilities…?" The elderly reporter's eyes crossed in a display of apparent confusion.
Dr. Rausenbluem chuckled, running his long fingers through his thick head of raven-black hair, "Yes, that's what the scientific community likes to call it. To put it into lamen's terms, it's quite simply the ability to remake a limb. My team of scientists have spent decades analyzing and dissecting the part of amphibian DNA that contains the recipe for recreating a limb. Finally, we have found the exact strand that controls regeneration and we've begun experimenting with DNA syndicates."
Ms. Summers clasped her hands together then placed them in her lap. As much as she hated it, Jacque had brought her here to the Daily Bugle to parade around as a trophy and nothing more, this she knew.
Typical Jacque. Always wanting to show the others what he has and what they don't. She thought to herself. All she had to do was sit, metal rod through her spine, smile painted onto her cherry lips, and wait for the reporter to write down all of the information she required. So much waiting and smiling was nothing new for her. As a child she had been very shy but even more-so beautiful. Her parents, who were the crème-de-la-crème of socialites throughout Europe detested such shy behavior and threw her into the world of modeling. A shy girl born into a family of party-going, happy-go-lucky, socialites? This would not do! But nevertheless, the popping white lights of the world of modeling had, to her mother's great pleasure, stripped her of her shy tendencies and molded her into a young woman "worthy of the Summer's name".
"I'm sorry, Ms. Janson," Jacque stood, his polite façade obviously ruffled. "But I do believe that our interview is done."
Ada Summers watched, knowing all too well that Jacques had reached the end of his rope. She didn't know how, but she did know this wouldn't end well.
"But Dr. Rausenbluem, you agreed to twenty minutes." The reporter stood, her face panicked. "We still have ten more minutes left. You can't just leave. We had a verbal agreement!"
Jacque's face flushed a deep burgundy. "Jacque," Ada put her hand on his arm, lightly. "Please, sit down."
"I suppose you didn't hear me correctly." Jacque jerked his arm away then slammed his fist down onto the reporter's desk. Her thin, beanstalk-like body quivered violently. "Our interview has been terminated. As a good rule of thumb, Ms. Janson, get everything down in writing. Now, good day." He stalked to the door, opened it and was about to step out when he paused and turned his head back. "Ada, we're leaving." He rushed through the typing room quickly enough to send the papers on the close-set desks fluttering like uncaged birds. The reporters who had been typing on the typewriters had to make a mad dash to hold them down.
As Ada stood she noticed a small crowd of reporters at Ms. Janson's office door.
"Ms. Janson." Ada stood across from the shivering woman, her desk the only thing separating the two. "I'm sorry about Dr. Rausenbluem, please forgive him. It was a great pleasure to meet you." She reached across the desk to clasp the reporter's trembling hand in hers.
No sooner had the young woman left the room, the crowd of reporters bustled in.
Above the buzzing ruckus one man's voice rose above the din, "Want me to go drag him back in here, Jeannie?"
The reporter plopped down into her chair, a sigh escaping her pursed lips. "No, that's all right Peter. Not a lot of good that'll do. If he doesn't want to talk," She paused. Slowly, she opened her palm. A folded piece of white paper had been slipped into her hand. Steadying her hands, she unfolded the piece of paper and read it. "If he doesn't want to talk, he doesn't have to."