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Dr. Mercer shot bolt upright in his bed, all cold sweat and wild eyes. Death by crushing and drowning while his own blood pooled around him into the water- he could say with certainty he preferred guns to that slow and painful mess. He ran one clammy hand through his over gelled hair and sighed. It wasn't even dawn yet. After a long time of staring blankly out the window, rain doing little to soothe his nerves, he dragged himself out of bed and started the walk to Gentek, fabric hood doing even less to protect him from the drizzle.

He felt too sick to the stomach to consider eating, so he would work off the feeling. There was always that original redlight sample to mess with- although he wouldn't try going down the same path as he had for blacklight. That was years worth of modifications which had culminated in Alex, not to mention the fact half the supplies he needed weren't here anymore. The receptionist, as usual, gave him side eyes as he walked by, slumped posture and leather jack invoking the image of a depressed biker teen.

Dr. Mercer settled at his desk, and with a yawn he turned on the lab's Computer and loaded up the spreadsheets detailing the changes, tired eyes scanning numbers and codes as he scrolled. This was familiar. This was something he knew well. He'd just review this, instead of thinking about his yesterday, and wait for the stormy vial of Blacklight to break like some unholy jack in the was familiar.

But the vial didn't break. There was the occasional fracture in the glass, spreading across its surface, but no attempt made by the virus to break free of his containment. How long had he been awake-hours? Something along those lines. Enough for him to replay what happened over and over in his head, enough for him to confirm that his stupid water phobia had gotten two allies killed. He'd seen both their bloody remains as he'd clawed his way out of the rubble, suffocating and having lost a great deal of biomass. He writhed in his containment, tendrils smacking against the glass walls.

Maybe he'd stay in here today-until he inevitably went stir crazy from his self-directed frustration and anger. He'd just run off alone when that happened. Alex settled at the bottom of the test tube, rippling in an attempt to soothe his nerves. It was one thing to get people you cared about killed. It was another to kill them.

But, this was a day in the life of two Mercers, so nothing ever went according to plan. Moments after Alex came to rest, the door to the lab was pushed open. In stepped Robert Cross, idly scanning the area; this time around, he was in full armor, a flashlight and his taser both hanging from his belt. His gaze settled on Doc, and something flickered in his eyes, if for half a second.

"Dr. Mercer." He nodded in greeting, holding his hands behind his back and not ceasing his methodical search of the room. "Sorry for barging in. I had extra time after a meeting with Dr. McMullen, and I wanted to see Project Blacklight at work." Had he been in this situation before? It was an odd hunch, and there was something about a twin, but he brushed it off.

Dr. Mercer straightened up as he entered, looking with tired eyes at Cross. The man who'd tried to save him, despite the fact both of them died anyway. Perhaps he could have.. Some respect for him. But this was a new day and he looked like he was after something- not to mention like he was prepared to fight. He leaned back, trying to appear relaxed. "You want to see Blacklight, Genteks little bioweapon, at work?" He flicked his gaze to the fractured vial, willing Alex not to come jumping out. "I wasn't planning on running any experiments today, you know."

"Something like that." Cross shrugged, stepping towards Dr. Mercer and letting his gaze settle on the vial-cracking, but not broken. A chill ran up his spine, but again, he shook it off. "Nothing at all? I would've thought you worked on it constantly, with all the advancements Dr. McMullen talks about." It was either an attempt at a joke, or a snarky remark-Cross' expression and neutral tone made it impossible to tell. "You might want to change its containment. If that breaks, we'll both be in trouble."

Dr. Mercer rolled his eyes, irritation dripping from every syllable, "I was planning on reviewing its code and planning out the next gene change today, actually. I don't need to constantly handle it like play dough to work on it."

If Cross was looking for a fight with the snark, perhaps he should give it to him. He grabbed a beaker from his desk, uncorked the vial and shook Alex out into it, walking away to rummage in a store cupboard full of glassware, hiding his smirk. "Play nice with Captain Cross, he insists I should get you a fresh vial."

"My line of work involves constant handling. Pardon me for making a guess." He raised a brow, only to watch as Dr. Mercer… took the bioweapon and poured it into a beaker, completely unsealed and without a care in the world. Even the virus seemed to resist his decision, clinging to the breaking test tube before landing in the beaker with a heavy thud. The beaker completely shattered from the force of the impact, leaving a pile of broken glass and a pile of virus. Cross wasn't an expert on viruses (only containing and killing them), but he was pretty sure that was a bad thing.

"Mercer, your virus is leaving." It was all he had to offer as the blob slunk to the floor, leaving a crater where it impacted before beginning to spread. Cross merely stepped away, watching as the mass stilled and resorted to something akin to sulking on the floor. Why he guessed that was beyond him-call it a hunch. "I think you need a bigger test tube."

Dr. Mercer ceased his rummaging to turn around, and when he finally spotted the sulking blob he sighed. Carefully, he moved closer until he was crouched what could be called dangerously close to it. "Come on now, there's no need for that. People die all the time."

As Dr. Mercer crouched next to him, the virus let out a shriek, spiking up and backing away like a pissed off cat. While Cross was still stuck on the fact the virus had made noise, Doc would get Alex's point just fine; Fuck off, leave me alone, and other such variations of the phrase. Yes, people died all the time, but that didn't change the fact two of his friends had died because of something stupid, and he refused to let it go. Alex pressed himself against the table, readying another screech if Doc didn't get the point.

He threw his hands up in response. "Really! You're throwing a tantrum because I said two sentences! I'm the one who died you know, I should be the one sulking under a table." He sighed, and turned to Cross with an exasperated shrug. "Well, now you've seen him in action. What do you think?"

What did he think. There was Mercer, having an argument with a blob of viral mass about literally dying, while said virus was apparently throwing a tantrum like an upset kid. It was like a scene from a cartoon, or maybe some fucked up sci-fi movie. Frankly, he wasn't nearly as surprised as he thought he'd be, considering the circumstance. A man arguing with his virus seemed pretty normal, in a weird way. The mention of death spurred something close to familiarity in him, but it was a step behind.

"Not what I was expecting," he finally commented, briefly glancing to the door-he was glad he'd closed it behind him. Both of them gave him an uneasy feeling, the type that suggested danger was soon at hand. "Sounds like you two have interesting conversations. Might want to get him to quit the tantrum, though. My men are worried for a potential biological attack, and some of them can get trigger happy."

"They're more interesting when he uses his damn mouth- but he's being so childish this is all I can hope for, I expect." He sighed, and looked to the sulking blob. "Are you going to walk out of here or hide somehow? I doubt you'd want to repeat yesterday's breakfast, all things considered."

After a moment of grumpy contemplation, Alex slid out from under the table, and reformed in a swirl of tendrils. Not that his mood had changed any; instead of a sulking pile of biomass, he was now a sulking Mercer-shaped biomass, arms crossed as he hid in his hood. But despite having the ability to talk now, he still refused, more content to glower at them both as spikes rippled down his back. The only person he wanted to talk to right now was Dana, and even that was a long shot. He did just murder her brother, not even a day ago.

The scientist didn't even bother sighing this time, he just looked at Alex. "I deeply regret my surprise about you being under a month old. You live up to all the stereotypes the instant you leave a combat situation. I suppose you wish to visit Dana then? I don't mind what you do, though perhaps you should take Cross with you."

Alex narrowed his eyes, glancing between Doc and Cross and still maintaining his frustrated silence. No, he did not want to visit Dana, actually. Who knows, maybe there'd be a flood there and people would get crushed again. With a stern shake of his head, he was definitely not taking Cross with him either, he turned away and stormed right out the door. Fuck both of them, he was taking a rain coat and sulking on top of a skyscraper.

As passive as Cross had been, though, he had to draw the line at the bioweapon just walking out the door. With a raised brow to Doc, he headed after him, silently slipping his taser from his belt. Precautions were precautions. Dr. Mercer cast a longing look at his computer, and after putting it to sleep followed out. He was bored, Alex was chaotic- it was easy to guess why.

Alex wasn't an expert on social things-pretty far from one, if he was honest. But even he could figure out that sulking, not talking, and walking away were all pretty clear ways of saying "leave me alone". Apparently not, since he could hear both Cross and Doc trailing after him, a fact that had him bristling. Was this payback for the time Alex refused to leave Doc alone? Maybe. But that was different, because this was about Alex, not Doc. Just because he hung around people until they felt better didn't mean they got to do the same for him.

Well, the joke was on them. He could outrun a car.

Alex grabbed the same raincoat he'd stolen the day before, fumbling with the spikes jutting out from his back for a moment before finally pulling it into place. Cross wasn't far behind. He huffed through his nose and pushed out the door. The sound, scent and feeling of the rain even with the raincoat made him shudder, memories of yesterday making his metaphorical stomach knot. You're not suffocating yet, focus. With a sharp glance back to Gentek, he broke into a sprint, a blur of color in the rain as he raced down the street.

By the time Cross even processed what was happening, Alex was long gone. Well, that was bad. He stood at the doorway, watching the rain fall with a neutral expression.

"He's gone," the specialist remarked, not turning his head to greet Mercer.

"So he is," Dr. Mercer remarked, unconcerned. "Would you like to go get coffee? He'll find us or get into trouble eventually, no point chasing him."

Cross raised a brow for a moment, considering the offer. "Sure. Can't say I'm up to much else, and I can tell the general I'm helping you if asked." A small shrug. "Lead the way, then, Mercer."

With a simple nod, he started on his way down the streets, weaving around the drifting flocks of businessmen with practiced ease as he scanned the shops for something- starbucks, café nero- no, those weren't what he was looking for. He ducked through alleyways, dark expression and armored follower warding off any potential pickpockets with ease, until he reached the place. Simple, plain decorations, a name he didn't know how to pronounce, and no one in sight. He stepped inside with confidence, and strolled up to the counter until some young man scurried out from the backroom to greet him. "I'll have a mocha with whipped cream, no special orders today." He turned his head to Cross, "And you?"

If he was completely honest with himself, Dr. Mercer guiding him past your standard shops and into a back-alley one with considerably fewer visitors didn't surprise him in the slightest. These were the kinds of places Cross himself was more familiar with, if only because his downtime was spent hard at work, not leisuring at your standard coffee shop. He clasped his hands behind his back as he stood behind Mercer, watching the young man at the counter with an analytic-but not hostile-expression.

"Black Americano, no sugar or creamer, please," concluded with a small nod.

The man taking their orders returned the gaze, equally calculating, before putting on a simple smile. "That will be-"

"I'm going to request the usual service, so it'll be $36.42, not $16.42," Doc interjected sharply.

"Of course," The boy replied, not batting an eyelid at the interruption. "Take your seats, your orders will be ready in a moment."

As their server disappeared once more, Dr. Mercer walked to one of the tables for two and pulled a chair out for himself sitting down without a word and glaring without thoughts at the blank wall.

Usual service? Ah, he knew where this was going. Still, Cross remained silent, following after Mercer and taking a seat across from him. The man didn't seem all that interested in talking, so he took up conversation starting himself. "Nice place. Can't have been easy to find."

"You can find anything if you know who to ask," Dr. Mercer shrugged, though it was hard to distinguish from his jacket. "It's better than those vermin riddled high street shops."

"That's true." He leaned back in his chair a little, glancing over the empty tables. A slight frown crossed his features, but only for a moment. "I doubt you're referring to a rodent problem. The general has a similar outlook. The quiet's a lot nicer, though, I'll give you that." A pause, considering; he should probably stop talking like he was debriefing a unit. "You ever work on something other than Blacklight?" Well, that didn't work.

"Going straight to my history, huh?" Dr. Mercer cracked a grin- or perhaps a grimace. "Blacklight's more of a side project that they decided had potential. My main job used to be gene insertion- to make the deadly stuff more deadly, you know- before they found out."

"It's something set in stone, isn't it? Figured it'd be an easy topic." Cross' own expression didn't shift, and save for a quick look his way, he kept his gaze elsewhere. "Mm. Made you a good candidate for Blacklight, I'm sure. Gentek has a penchant for holding onto employees. Making everyone 'multipurpose' and whatnot-at least, that's what I've gathered." This was actually going a lot smoother than he thought it would. "There's my questions. I should let you pry in return, right? Only fair."

"A good candidate? I created Blacklight, Cross." He paused for a moment, slipping two twenties out of his wallet and placing them on the table, nodding as the server traded them for their drinks. "Now, you seem like a very… Curt man. Any hobbies, perhaps? Pets?"

He made no comment on the creation of Blacklight, instead offering a quick thanks to the server and pulling his drink closer. After blowing on it to help it cool, he took a careful sip, unbothered by the bitter taste as he pondered the question. By the time the cup returned to the table, he had answers in mind, though they were hardly any less curt than everything else about him.

"No hobbies. If I'm not actively deployed, I'm preparing for my next mission. Better to be safe than sorry. As for pets, not currently. I had a tarantula for some time, but the constant moving made the poor thing a hassle for my team." A shrug. "You?"

"Since I don't move much, I got Correlophus, but he's not much of a pet. I do not envy you having to constantly move a T. As for hobbies... Sleeping?" He sipped his mocha, carefully eating away at the whipped cream settled on top as he watched Cross.

"Correlophus, huh. A pet's a pet, regardless of what they do. So long as they're taken care of." A fraction of a smile crossed his stoic features at the mention of 'sleeping' as a hobby, though as the man with no hobbies, he didn't have the right to be judgemental. "Sounds exciting. Longest amount of sleep I've ever had was six hours, back in training." He finally faced Mercer fully, though it was only to take another few sips of his drink.

Dr. Mercer's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't allow it any other way." He paused, as what the soldier across from him said settled in. "And how long ago would that be? I'd be interested to hear the effects of long term mild sleep deprivation."

"With the training we get, it's hardly deprivation to us anymore." It seemed like something he was sure to note, eyes narrowing for half a second before he settled back to his characteristic calm. "Forty-nine, fifty years ago, or something like that. It was the only time I let myself slack off. Learned pretty quick not to do it again."

Dr. Mercer's eyes lit up as Cross began talking, only to darken with horror as he ran the numbers, guessing Cross' age. "You've been training for the military since you were a child?"

He caught the way Mercer's eyes darkened, though he clearly couldn't figure out why-if the fact his tone remained completely casual as he continued said anything. "Yes. Guess it depends on what you'd consider a child in my case, but yes. It's a common practice for people they want on the higher ranks, I assume."

"A child is something that hasn't fully matured. In humans, that's fairly broadly agreed to be anything before 18- and preteens is what the term is usually reserved for. I assume you know all this, but are you aware child soldiers are banned by the geneva convention?"

"I do, it's just not the word I usually use to describe my youth." He paused, blinking a few times, before managing a small, stiff smile. "I am, but I would hardly have considered myself a child soldier, Mercer. My training may have started early, but we weren't actually brought onto the field for a while. I didn't even learn to fire a gun until I was seven or eight, though my memory might be failing me there."

Mercer huffed, "You're missing the point. Training children is illegal, because it lets you mold people to your wishes. Normalizing war, guns, chain of command- its got some nifty benefits for the people in the higher ranks. Whether or not you went to combat is irrelevant."

He went quiet for a good moment. Taking a sip of his coffee, he was clearly thinking it over-if his expression didn't show it, the subtle tightening of his grip on his drink did. It wasn't as though Mercer was telling him anything he didn't know; in any case except SpecOps, making soldiers out of children was horrific. But it was one of the first things they'd taught him in his youth. Some may try to make you question your position, your place in this world. But you know better. Ultimately, Cross just sighed into his drink, concluding it all with a shrug.

"If it makes you feel better, the initiative I was a part of is no longer active." Instead, it was more top secret, more buried in Blackwatch. "It is what it is. Unfortunate as the circumstances may have been, I still have a job to do."

The scientist sipped his mug in turn, but decided to change the direction of his probing, "Does that job include murdering Alex if you find him?"

Cross was sitting up straight in his chair by now, any relaxation clearly gone from him. Or, more accurately, he stopped trying to pretend it was there in the first place; they were talking business, now. "No. Unless he causes explicit harm to anyone, I only intend to bring him back into Gentek. If he shows any sign of lethal force being genuinely necessary, I would have no choice. From what I've seen of him… I can't say I'm certain what he'll pick." He regarded Dr. Mercer for a moment. "So, you tell me. Am I going to need to kill Alex when I find him?"

"Depends. He doesn't seem inclined to go on a murder spree today, but who knows with him." He shrugged, and sipped the last dregs of his coffee, letting the caffeine relax him. "I suspect we'd hear something if he decided to do that, though."

"In an instant." He tapped on the radio hooked to his belt; it would have been screaming with soldiers begging for commands if anything had happened. "Hopefully, all I'll need to do is stun him, and that's assuming he's as uncooperative as he was in Gentek. I'm not looking to drive him towards any…" He trailed off, frowning a little to himself. Deja vu was frequent, today, though he couldn't even begin to think of what water would have to do with anything. It was everywhere, practically the most basic thing for them to make the virus immune to. He shook it off. "We should get an idea of his location, at the least. Losing the local bioweapon doesn't look great on a report."

In response, Mercer let a small smirk slip onto his grim face. "No need for a bad report if you simply don't report it."

Cross didn't miss a beat, meeting the smirk with a quick scoff. "No need for any reports once the general has you fired for omitting details of a mission." With that, he focused on finishing the rest of his coffee-or, at least, he tried to finish his coffee. He didn't get very far, distracted by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement outside, up until the virus in question came rushing through the door. He skidded to a halt just before reaching