Author's Note: It is said that all good things must end, and this story will do just that in the chapter after this one. Both of them seem a little short for my liking, but that's the way the chapter breaks panned out this time. Next one will be longer, I promise. Meanwhile, sit back and enjoy the update.
Learning to Breathe
69. Where Do We Go From Here?
"I take it this is not a social call." Zartan remarked on his end of the phone line. Zarana was currently speaking to him over the telephone, looking for answers to some of the questions brought up on the group's recent trip to Montana.
"When is it ever with us? Look, I got a few questions you might know the answers to." She responded. "Any idea what kind of lab would need fifty human guinea pigs?"
"Why would you ask something like that?" He inquired, skepticism plainly evident in his voice.
"Got a possible lead on that lab our kids came out of." She sighed. "Big enough to house fifty at any given time, plus whoever ran it, with resources to find replacements for anyone who died."
"That's a big one." She could just see him shaking his head now. "You sure it's fifty and not thirty?"
"Positive. Where does that leave us on this, again?"
"In trouble. It's double the size of Mindbender's 'ideal' programs, and whoever ran it must have had access to a lot of funding…"
"We talking government funding, here?" She frowned. If it were true, this was definitely not good...
"Or Hydra. They're a big enough organization to manage something like that." Her brother added.
"Doesn't exactly put me any more at ease." She snorted. "Place like Hydra might want them back."
"They might, but they won't get them. Those kids are ours." He stated, leaving no room for debate. "However, big organizations with big funding tend to leave financial paper trails. You said they dragged you to Montana?"
"Yeah." She answered. "Graveyard in the north-central part of the state."
"Then I suppose we can rule out anyone in Canada backing this." Zartan thought out loud. "I will look into that matter here. You just worry about managing those kids."
"Easier said than done." She grumbled.
Nightmares were a well-documented occurrence for the majority of Shadowatch's original six-man squad. Zarana and Zandar couldn't count the number of times they'd woken up to someone screaming at dark-thirty in the morning. Usually, the nightmares only plagued the group for a day or two, following on the heels of some great upheaval in their lives (such as changing bases or nearly losing a teammate) and this occasion proved no different. The business with the mad mutant known as Locust and yesterday's field trip to the graveyard where so many people they once knew were buried had affected everyone and, in turn, everyone was now getting nightmares. The resident illusionist projecting her dreams on the others (and then causing Mimic to start broadcasting like a bullhorn to everyone in telepathic range) was not helping in the handlers' endeavors to see that everyone was getting enough sleep after dark.
"They sure have some violent dreams." Burn-Out commented. He and the other handlers had taken to sleeping in shifts so that someone was awake enough to deal with scared, confused mutant teenagers.
"No joke." Zarana stated, leaning up against the doorframe leading to the kitchen. "Though some of 'em 's worse than others…"
"Who's the worst one?" The burly African-American Dreadnok inquired. His bet was on Thunderbird, given the dark-skinned teen's inherent ability to unintentionally set things on fire.
"The girls, actually." The pink-haired assassin remarked. "Andi's tend to be the most violent, and she's most likely to take a swing at you in her sleep. Kristen's more likely to hurt you, though. Superhuman strength and clawed fingernails are not a good combination."
"Makes you wonder what the hell they saw."
"Don't know the exact specifics, but it sure as hell wasn't pretty." She barely repressed a shudder. "The scars they all got says that loud and clear."
The scars were the very first tip-off that certain team members had been through hell and back. All of the lab mutants had them. Marks on their wrists were consistent with being bound extremely tight with metal shackles. Several of them had wounds suggesting some very painful beatings. And then there were the scars that nobody could see; the kind that left more damage than any physical wound possibly could. Odds were good it was the memories of what caused them that kept the kids up screaming in the middle of the night.
"How much longer do you think they'll be keeping us awake like this?" Burn-Out sighed, running a hand through his dreadlocked hair. He'd been on watch duty for several weeks now, and lack of sleep was starting to affect him. Not to mention the kids were dragging their feet through tasks they should have been able to complete without issue.
"Shouldn't be more than a couple more nights for most of 'em." She answered, taking a swig of luke-warm coffee from a mug in her right hand. "A couple might get them off and on for another week, but after that there shouldn't be any more problems." This was hardly the first time she and her brothers had to deal with this issue. "So, who do you bet will keep us up tonight?"
"Is this an actual bet or are we just trying to pass time?"
"We can make it an actual bet; not like there's anything else to bet on around here." She shrugged. "You wanna put up money or housework?"
"Housework. Ain't no way I'm betting my paycheck on this." He stated bluntly. "How about the loser does the winner's job in the chore rotations tomorrow?"
"And if neither wins?" She inquired.
"Wager's void. We do whatever we were assigned. That okay with you?" But that wouldn't happen, because he was gonna get out of playing schoolteacher for a day.
"Works for me." She smiled. It would be nice to have a day without housework. Contrary to popular belief, she did quite a bit of it back at the Florida compound…there was just no way to get ahead of the Dreadnoks' messiness.
"Don't you think you should wait 'til after the bet's over to smile?" He raised an eyebrow. "Mimic's gonna win me this one!"
"Oh no, he's not." She countered. "Thunderbird's overdue for his sheet-burning exercises."
A loud thud followed by equally loud feminine grumbles sounded from the kids' rooms. From the sound of it, someone had fallen off the bed.
"Must be Kris." The female Dreadnok commented, tilting her head slightly to listen to the running commentary from several doors down. "Must've sleep-flown into a wall again."
"How can you tell just by the mumbles?"
"Not deep enough to be Andi, and no accent, which rules out Regan and Corona. So unless Heart-Wrencher's started getting them along with the kids, it's gotta be Kris. Nobody wins."
"Anybody ever tell you you're scary-good at that?" He shook his head. She nodded proudly.
"Every time I catch people trying to sneak snacks out of the kitchen before dinner."