Young Offender, Part 33:
/It's time to wake up, Ivan. Remember, be pliant to their request for now, but don't let them suspect we talked./ Katerina stood and faded away in a golden haze. He looked down to the small girl. Ivan held his hand over the girl's forehead and gently pushed her from his mind; she faded out in a blueish fog.
He stood and looked around his desolate mind-scape. The dim bog had an eerie loneliness, but he knew each person was truly alone within the mind. How he wished it wasn't so. He closed his inner eyes and left, his feet tingling. Gradually, he sank downwards through cold and darkness.
The first thing he was conscious of was the sterile, antiseptic smell of his father's lab. He opened his eyes to see his parents at the foot of the operating table. They were each wearing anxious expressions.
"Ivan! Oh thank goodness; I was beginning to worry," Erika said, coming around and grabbing his right hand. He turned his head to the left to see the girl, who looked twelve years old, was still asleep. Ivan knew she wouldn't come around for a few more minutes.
"Son, what happened? Why were you unconscious so long?" Fyodr asked.
He looked towards his father and shook his head. "I don't remember. The girl knocked me out. She's too powerful."
"Nonsense," Fyodr responded. "You were just being sloppy."
"Don't be hard on the boy, Fyodr," Erika said, helping Ivan sit upright. "Come with me, and I'll get you something to eat."
"Thank you... Mother," Ivan said, barely able to force the words out.
"Please. I'll do as you ask, if you let me see them," Ivan requested in his native language, trying to look his most contrite. His parents sat across the dinning-room table from him, and Ann was now seated to his left. The girl hadn't said a word through his mother's Krasnye Bliny pancakes with sour cream and salmon, but that was the plan worked out between him and her.
"No, Ivan. It was a mistake letting you around those others," his father responded in firm Russian. Ivan admitted there was something comforting about the traditional food and the lilt of the Eastern Slavic language. His parents were being more indulgent with him than they ever had before. His empathy was inflamed with fear and nervousness.
"I won't do anything. I just want to make sure they're well."
"You've broken our trust. You must work at rebuilding it," Fyodr insisted.
"I understand," Ivan said numbly. He started picking at his left over food again. He looked up with a hint of defiance. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll consent to the test you want me to perform tomorrow, if you let me just see them. I'll even let you listen in telepathically."
His parents exchanged troubled, thoughtful expressions. Erika's eyes glowed amethysts, and finally they looked at him and nodded. "You must promise to not to encourage them towards any more rebellion," Fyodr relented.
"I promise." But of course, making a hollow promise to his parents meant nothing to Ivan. It wouldn't have any sway on his plans.
He was careful to project a false sincerity, lest his mother figure out the foundation for the house of lies he was about to build over the next three months. It was hard to keep his empathy under control, but Katharina said this was his chance to develop more restraint, which he would need for the future.
Albert shook Jet awake when the door opened. He thought it'd be Black Ghost doctors, but was relieved to see Ivan. He grew apprehensive when he saw the stout Russian woman trailing behind. Her eyes were glowing a deep purple, so Albert knew she was using her ESP.
"I came to see how you were doing," Ivan announced in German and walked over to the edge of Albert's bed. "Not too well, I see."
Jet stood up slowly with a harsh expression directed at Ivan; Albert turned to see a momentary shock pass Ivan's face, then a hardened mask. Ivan's right eye turned a bright blue and then he looked down at Albert.
/Jet says not to worry so much about him. He's strong enough to handle whatever they do to him./ Ivan projected.
/I know. He's being very brave. How are you holding up?/ Albert formed the thought clearly.
/Well enough. My... father... wants me to preform some tests today. They want to see how much change has occurred with my abilities./
/Be careful. I don't trust them./ Albert thought.
"How dare you imply we would do harm to our own son," Erika snapped in German. Albert didn't make matters worst by replying, but Jet certainly looked like he wanted to say something tart.
"Please, Erika... Mother. I'll say goodbye to Francoise, and then we'll leave."
Albert watched Ivan go over to Francoise's bedside. He didn't do anything except look at her. No words or even a touch. He turned on his heels and had a hardened expression that ill fitted his youthful appearance.
Before he left, he cast a look at Albert and projected /Just cooperate for now./
Albert stifled his startled expression, but nodded. After Ivan left, Jet grabbed up a piece of paper and pen. He scrawled English words, 'can we trust him?'
"We have no choice," Albert responded back in Jet's native language. He picked up the paper and wrote the same words in German under Jet's. "You really need to work on your handwriting. It's horrible."
'You bastard!' Jet scribbled. To which, Albert wrote the German equivalent underneath.
"Auf Duetsch," Albert insisted. Jet looked aggravated, but then started to awkwardly piecemeal misspelled German words into half-coherent sentences with little attention to grammar. It was something to kept Jet's mind off his pain, and something to keep Albert occupied.
Dr Uranus came bustling in with two syringes. Jet didn't move from where he sat beside Albert. He watched the doctor go over and check on Francoise with what appeared to be tenderness. It took every ounce of Jet's will power, and Albert to lay a reminding hand on his wrist, to not go punch the man. Especially, when the man gave Francoise the addictive painkillers.
The doctor came over and lofted another syringe. He looked over at Jet and said, "You know, Dr Yana is still very angry with you. If you apologize, he may let you have some."
Jet felt his face grow red. He remembered seeing so many lives recked in his old neighborhood thanks to heroin. He never wanted any part of becoming a junkie. He picked up the notepad and scrawled, 'Tell that son-of-a-bitch to go fu..."
Albert snatched the pen away and looked at Uranus. "Jet won't relent. He's a very stubborn boy."
Dr Uranus shrugged. "Suit yourself. 004, give me your arm." Jet knew Albert well enough to see the battle going on in his minds.
"First tell me where Gilmore is."
"Prison. I'll arrange to let him see you tomorrow, if you'd like."
Albert nodded before he cooperated and thrust out his left arm. The man efficiently gave the shot and turned to leave. Albert then drifted to sleep after settling on his pillow.
Jet looked down at Albert's tranquil face. He'd never felt so alone in his entire life. It took him totally by surprise to realize how much he had grown to depend on them, especially, Albert, and that terrified him even more than the Black Ghost.
Ivan doubled over and sank to his knees, sweat poured off his artificial skin from the internal cooling system. He looked up after steadying his shaking hands. The girl stood before him, her eyes still glowing amber. He had restrained himself from the things he could do to defend himself on purpose. Plus, he kept his pyrokinesis a secret from his parents.
"Very good, 001, but in some ways, you've fallen back. You need to be retrained," his mother called out from across the gymnasium. This was a formal session, so she addressed him by his codename. He got to his feet and adopted a look of shame.
"I haven't used my abilities very much since we left. I didn't want to," Ivan lied, careful to subtly shield his mind.
"But, my darling, we're meant to use our minds. You need to forget whatever those three told you and take your place as someone who's far superior above the dredges," she explained. She waved her thick hand at the slight girl across the way. "Ann does as I tell her and look at how far along she is."
"I don't want to be like Ann. She's... unnatural."
"What is natural? Natural is something that needs to be corrected into perfection," his father explained walking over from the bleachers. No, they still hadn't mentioned what they had done to Katharina to augment Ann's abilities. It was a very infuriating lie of omission. "By the way, I want to examine my handiwork. You seemed to be holding out for longer periods of time than I had originally designed."
Ivan felt a slight bit of panic. His father would see Kaminari's upgrades and want to know what had happened. His father was so egotistical about his work. Albert had told him once to lay cards on the table and then tell the person what it meant; he now understood the German's advice.
"Your work was altered, Dr Gamo," Ivan announced. "I had an injury and needed to be fixed. There were definitely some improvements to your design."
Ivan felt the waves of uncontrollably rage vibrating out of his father's mind; it was threatening to overwhelm him. The man grabbed Ivan's elbow and yanked him towards the door.
"We'll see about that."
Jet bolted off the floor and quickly was by Francoise's side when she screamed. He put his hand to her forehead and then gently pushed her back down on the bed. He stroked her hair until she seemed to calm down. No doubt she had to be scared, being effectively blind.
"Don't touch me!"
Jet couldn't protest and tell her it was him. He took her hand and squeezed, hoping she'd understand. He was relieved to see her breathing even out and tension leave. She took a deep inhale.
"Jet?" she finally asked timidly. He took her hand and put it on the side of his face and nodded. "What happened? Why aren't you saying anything?"
His frustration maxed out. He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't know what else to do. He guided her fingers slowly to his swollen mouth.
"Something horrible happened to you? Your mouth?" She jerked her hand back, and her arm flopped down weakly. "So tired. I feel so sick."
Her head drifted to the side, and she fell back into a deep sleep. He rose to his feet. He'd never been so drained in his life. Jet knew he had to get some decent rest and build up his strength again. Still, without solid food, he didn't know how well he could fare.
Jet watched the door open and saw Gilmore walk in, looking the worse for wear. He had two guards besides him. The scientist's eyes grew huge and he called out, "002! What happened?"
Jet couldn't answer, so he took a deep breath through his nose and stood from the corner he was resting in. Gilmore buzzed through the room and checked on unconscious Albert and Francoise before walking up to Jet.
"Good news... they had no choice but to let me work on you. Come with me, and I'll do what I can."
Jet shook his head, walked over, and sat on the side of Albert's bed. He crossed his arms and glared.
"They'll be fine. No one has plans for them right away. Listen, you need to come with me or else..." Gilmore jerked his head towards the guards that carried batons. Each of them tapped the end of the batons in their hands; they looked itching to fight.
The only thing that won Jet over was the memory of Albert's request for him to behave well. He wished Albert hadn't made the request. He still wanted to fight and scream. He slowly stood and walked away, dragging his fingertips along the back of Albert's left hand.
To be continued.