I'm vexed. The subject showed no significant reaction to his arm being touched when he was blindfolded. His sensory receptors didn't react at all.
So he wasn't exaggerating when he said he doesn't feel when things touch his arm. I guess the prosthesis isn't at that level of advanced tech yet, to be able to deliver sensitive sensory input.
I suppose that's not important for his case, anyway. He doesn't need sensitive tactile sensors in his arm, he's supposed to be a merciless assassin. Pain is an obstacle.
Still, wouldn't it be great if the arm could be improved to help people with lost limbs feel again?
I flip through the files.
"Are you in an abusive relationship with that guy?" Michael's voice makes me practically jump out of my skin.
What did he just ask me? This is the man who threatened me yesterday, right?
"Geez, Michael. You scared the daylight out of me." I turn to leave the room, and he blocks me, crossing his arms.
"Answer me. Are you? You're covered in bruises."
The only abusive relationship I see here is the one I have with you.
"Who are you referring to, exactly?" I play dumb, though I already know he's talking about a certain Strike team member we both know.
"Brock Rumlow." He mumbles the name under his breath.
"I've been training with him to improve my combat skills, if you really must know. He doesn't exactly hold back." I examine a scratch on my arm acquired from a particularly nasty skid off the safety mats. Maybe should have worn longer sleeves today.
"If that's all, I have to go." I pick up my bag and make a beeline for the exit.
"I don't know why you feel the need to get so close to those people." He mutters, "And the subject, too. You've been told he's erratic, but you treat him like some little kid at the dentist. He could easily kill you at the drop of a dime."
"I'm not concerned. I don't treat him like a monster, and he doesn't treat me like an enemy." I pause in the doorway, "And besides, Rumlow was there."
"Doesn't exactly come across as a dependable guy." Michael snorts.
"That's not a judgement call you're qualified to make, given your little temper tantrum the other day." I snap.
"I was just angry because this team is all I have control of here, and I'm beginning to lose that control." He raises his voice in return, crossing the floor to tower over me. I turn to leave, and he grabs my arm.
God, not again. I shake his grip free, and he doesn't attempt to grab me again. Oddly, his expression shifts, like he's correcting his behaviour.
"Things are getting strange, now that the subject is here. They keep things from us. Didn't you notice the files?" His eyes flicker to each side of the empty hallway, his voice lowered to a volume only I can hear.
Well, he has a point. Those documents were heavily censored.
"And what's with the thawing process? They won't explain anything to me when I ask about the subject's history." He continues, the suspicion evident in his eyes.
"You know we'd normally not be allowed to ask about that kind of information anyway… for the confidentiality of the subject."
"He doesn't have any confidentiality." Michael hisses, "Didn't you hear what I said about protocol? There are no ethics here. There's something they're hiding about him. He's not just an assassin. They won't tell us who did the prior work on him, so how can we find out what modifications they made to his arm and his nervous system? We're not here for our own research, we're the means to their end."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because you're the only one I thought I could trust." He admits, and his expression is… pained? Hopeful?
"I thought you hated me." I raise a questioning eyebrow at him.
"I certainly don't like you," He shoots me a pointed look, "but we came from the same lab, I thought I could confide in you. I've been at the breaking point for the past few days, on edge. Then you went off and started dating Mr. Navy Seal—"
"We're not dating." I interrupt him.
"Well, whatever. And then you get so close to the subject… we're disposable, Elise. Be careful around them." He looks genuinely concerned, and I have nothing to say. He's managed to plant a seed of doubt in my mind, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder…
What if he's right?
The sound of heavy footsteps echo from around the corner of the hall, and we both look over to see Rumlow turn the bend.
Odd. I didn't ask him to come get me. Was he worried about me being alone with Michael?
"Believe me." Michael whispers.
"I… I don't know." I reply quietly.
"Well, hopefully the P400s will give us a little more information. I'll have Nabeel redo the EEGs on the subject's LOFC tomorrow, maybe we can do a tactile test later." Michael switches the conversation seamlessly as Rumlow enters earshot range.
"Sounds good." I smile at Michael. It's silent for three seconds. I swear those were the longest three seconds of my life.
"Ready to go?" Rumlow looks at me expectantly, casting a not-so-subtle glance in Michael's direction.
"Yeah." I nod, plastering a smile on my face. "I figured out how to tape my hands properly."
"That's a start." He replies absentmindedly as we start walking down the hall. I wonder what's on his mind. He couldn't have overheard our conversation, right?
I glance at Rumlow, and find him watching me intently.
"Was that guy giving you trouble?" He moves a little closer.
"No, we were just talking about the data we got from the subject today. I could go into the details but I'm sure you'd be bored." I smile, letting myself relax. He's not going to buy anything I say if I seem nervous.
"Probably."