Edited: 1/17/16
Chapter 3– Building from the Ground Up
"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." – Bruce Feirstein
Darkness rolled through the massive complex on the tide of magic, and with the darkness came mad fury of an untamed monster.
"Shit!" Shink, the terrifying sound; one every guard with the level of clearance necessary to work with Weapon X knew by heart, was a thousand times more so in the dark. Anderson and Lynch were returning the Project to the lab after another successful round of testing when the lights went out. "Fu-AHHH." Anderson turned to run; blind instinct overrode common sense. Adamantium claws hissed through the air with an animalistic roar of triumph, Weapon X pounced on the retreating form. His claws tore through Kevlar, flesh, and bone with equal ease, splashing the killer in blood that fell like rain.
The metallic tang of blood mingled with the bitter outhouse stench of perforated bowls made Lynch want to puke, but giving in to his body's weakness now would mean certain death. "Damn it," he cursed when his side arm caught in the holster. In his panic, he'd forgotten to unbutton the strap. A flash of brilliant vermilion stained claws proved that was one mistake too many, and his head toppled from the shoulders of his still standing corpse. Another guttural roar echoed through the complex. The predator began stalking fresh prey, unmindful of the broken bodies left strewn in his wake. Emergency generators kicked on, adding spots of light accented by long stretches of deadly shadows.
Penny loafers skidded on the cement floor, nearly sending the doctor careening down the stairs on his face. Hurry, hurry, hurry, Dr. Hendry's heart pounded with adrenaline while alarms blared a myriad of different warnings. Only one concerned him, the one that monitored the status of Subject IX had gone off precisely thirty seconds ago. The distant sound of a roar indicated that IX wasn't the only project to have gone haywire this night. His footsteps faltered for only a second before he returned to full flight, his analytical mind counting down the seconds he had before the Subject became unviable.
Finally, thirty-seven seconds later, Dr. Hendry crashed through the door of the lab illuminated by an ample amount of emergency lighting. He fell hard as one of his loafers skidded on the edge of the large puddle of fluid that had once supported his Subject. Cursing under his breath, Dr. Hendry scrambled to his feet and wasted no time trying to figure out how the capsulea had become compromised in the first place.
He moved with the practiced grace of a man who'd served his time in the emergency room. Skilled fingers deftly began unhooking the failing life support systems and detangling the violently trembling body from the mess of wires and broken glass. Dr. Hendry gathered the small bony form up off the floor when it jerked once in his arms and fell still, the narrow rib ridged chest lay motionless under the doctor's gentle hold.
"Hold on, kid," he commanded. Five long steps brought him to the lab table where he deposited his now frightfully still burden.
It was bound to happen, Cutler thought as he flung open the door to the armory. The room was already packed with the other thirty-three guards who were too busy gaping at the security feed instead of armoring up. Friggin' amateurs.
"Who's down?" Cut demanded as he geared up.
"Anderson and Lynch were taken out in Lab Two, looks like Weapon X nailed a tech and is headed out of the lab." Erdman said, his face was sickly pale and lined with worry. He wasn't a young man anymore, and he knew going up against something like X was suicide.
"Well, what are you guys waiting for, a written invitation? Gear up, I'll break out the live ammo." Cutler barked. They had a job to do, a damn shitty job, but one that needed to be done and one that only they could do. Damn straight, just like those eggheads to create a monster then lose control of the bloody thing. No doubt they're hiding in a supply closet and pissing their fancy pants right now.
Instead of gearing up the men hesitated. "Deavers is waiting for authorization on live ammo from the Professor." Erdman admitted when Cutler leveled a glare at the group.
"To hell with that, I'm authorizing live ammo." Cutler sneered. Of course the Major would worry more about covering his own ass than doing his damn job. The rest of the men crowded around, strapping Kevlar over their bodies while Cutler handed out the big guns: Heckler & Koch UMP .45 caliber submachine guns with 25 round clips.
"CLEAR" Dr. Hendry yelled more out of habit than necessity, since he was the only one working on the patient. Large paddles, which only emphasized how small the chest they rested on, jolted the body for a third time. "Come on, come on, come on…breathe for me." Another jolt, green flashed as eyelids fluttered before the ominous long beep indicated the heart had not started beating yet kicked on again. "Damn it!"
Bodies littered the floor. Bullets sawed through the room, and still the beast barely flinched. It shook off the shots like a dog would water. Claws cut clean through the gun arm of one of the closest guards before they continued through the lower half of the body, and spilled the stunned man's intestines onto the floor.
"Fall back to corridor B" Cutler shouted to the seventeen remaining guards. It was obvious they were all going to die if they didn't come up with a dramatically different game plan. More screams echoed around the metal corridors while X finished killing off the few poor bastards who hadn't died during the initial attack. As sick as it was, Cutler was glad there were a few suckers left alive for the brute to play with. It gave the rest of them room to plan their next move.
"Right, I'm not going to lie to you, we're in a hell of a spot here and our bullets might as well be spitballs for all they're slowing it down. Here's the deal, most if not all of us, are going to die today, but if we play our cards right, maybe some of us will get out of this alive. We know those mad scientists took an already unkilliable bastard and made him indestructible. What they didn't do was give it super strength. Here's what we're gunna do, we've got some nice tight quarters here, that'll work in our favor. When X comes this way, we have to jump him, and get a hold of those God damned arms. We'll pin his ass with sheer weight and tie the fucker down. That's the only thing that'll work here." Cutler spoke plainly, laying all the cards down on the table at once. The plan was suicidal, that was a fact, and from the wary looks he was getting, the others knew it too. But, just shooting at the problem and hoping it would go away was even worse, and the others knew that as well.
The screaming in the other room came to an abrupt, gurgling end. "All right men, time to earn our hazard pay."
A gasping breath, and another as the young man on the table attempted to breathe, though his body was far too weak to accomplish the task on its own. "Yes!" Dr. Hendry crowed and skillfully fed a breathing tube down the slender throat, once more hooking the subject up to life support. Beep, beep, beep, beep, the soft mechanical sound of success drowned out the louder blaring of alarms.
Jade colored eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. They dilated properly when he flashed his light into them, but the vacant stare was still unnerving. Now that his patient was stabilized, the doctor dealt with the numerous superficial wounds decorating the emaciated body. "I'll need to get x-rays to see how much damage the fall did." Dr. Hendry mused while carefully suturing a three inch gash on the Subject's left hip.
When X rounded the corner, the remainder of the guard force charged. Each man shouting their lungs out in a desperate attempt to confuse the beast. It appeared to work, at least for a moment. Weapon X tilted its head to stare at the oncoming horde, those terrible blood-thirsty eyes were fearless in the face of their assault.
Then the wave of bodies crashed over him. Thickly muscled arms slashed forward, gutting the first man to reach him in an instant. The second and third both fell beneath the deadly blades; their blood adding to the slick floor. With a deft twist Cutler was able to twist away from another swing, get behind him, and throw his arm around the monster's throat.
This wasn't the most brilliant idea I've ever had, Cutler thought, ducking what would have been a decapitating slice from those lethal claws. X shook like a dog trying to dislodge the man, but Cutler held on with grim determination while more men joined the mêlée.
With a wild yell that was more bravado and mad terror than bravery, Chase threw himself at Weapon X's left arm just as the beast was attempting to twist it behind him and claw the man on his back to pieces. "FUCK!" Cutler shouted when those damnably sharp blades scored his side, slicing through the last two ribs. Cutler would be the first to admit that free floating bone in one's chest was quite possibly the strangest feeling he'd ever experienced. It was different from a broken bone, none of the sharp piercing edges. There really was no way to explain it, but fuck did it hurt.
"I got him, I got him!" Chase shrieked, his voice going high, revealing just how young he was. Fresh meat, just a damn kid probably no more than eighteen. The joy on Chase's face turned to horror when the arm he clung to turned at just the wrong angle. Savage claws vanished into his chest. A startled gasp was torn from the boy's lips and a wave of agony made his knees. Another violent jerk, and his chest exploded as the claws exited though his left side. Chase blinked once; his shaky hand came up to his ruined chest. Shaking fingers brushed against the exposed, clean cut bones before his legs gave out and he collapsed. Dead before he hit the ground.
"HE WAS JUST A KID YOU ASSHOLE…JUST A KID, JUST A KID, JUST A KID!" Conrad lost it after watching the young man fall. Back when the whole thing started, he'd taken Chase under his wing and showed him the ropes. The sight of his young protégé dead was the last straw. The machine gun was wielded like a club and Conrad didn't felt the claws that tore into his guts while he attempted to bash the mutant's brains in, adamantium or no.
Conrad's madness was the single stroke of luck the guards needed, and while the beast was distracted by disemboweling the shouting man, Erdman and Hill were able to get a solid grip on its arms. They, with Cutler still on its back, rode the beast to the ground. The eight remaining guards who'd survived the initial attack piled onto Weapon X until he couldn't be seen under the living chains that bound him.
The Professor sagged in his ergonomic chair with relief when the small mountain of men didn't erupt into a fountain of gore, signifying the weapon hadn't broken free of their hold. He would never admit the terror he'd felt watching X breach three zones of the complex. Tempered steel was no match for those savage claws, and every guard that fell was one less man standing between him and the monster.
Slate grey eyes flicked to another monitor, this one showing a certain worthless Major who would soon find himself unemployed, and if the Professor had any say about it, unemployable. Incompetent ass, completely worthless in an emergency. If Cutler survives, he'll make a fine replacement. The Professor wasn't a man who handed out praise lightly, nor was he one to acknowledged those he deemed so utterly beneath him, but he would give credit where credit was due. There's no doubt that without Cutler's quick thinking, we wouldn't have survived. And that truth was what had the Professor's heart beating at three times the normal rate. Death had been breathing down the back of his neck, and it had been held off by a mad plan that shouldn't have worked, but somehow did.
With a hand that shook more than a little, the Professor pressed the intercom button. "Is the Subject secure?" His voice boomed through the corridor. The mound of bodies heaved as X thrashed at the noise, but it held.
"He is secure for the moment, hold time estimated fifteen minutes, twenty max." Cutler's pain rough voice called out as he held on for dear life.
"I'll send Hines now."
With a few quick taps, the Professor activated the intercom and camera in the woman's room. While some might think it was unethical, the Professor deemed it appropriate. He refused to have any area of the complex outside of his total control. Dr. Hines paced back and forth across the non-descript grey carpet, at a loss for what to do. "Dr. Hines, bring the cybernetic helmet to corridor B as fast as humanly possible," the Professor commanded.
"Me?!" Dr. Hines squeaked, terrified by the thought of coming face to face with the renegade weapon.
"Yes you, woman! It's your technology isn't it? Now get down there this instant! Don't worry, Weapon X is perfectly secure. All you need to do is re-activate the RMI and get that helmet on him." Well, not precisely the truth, but as long as she hustles it will be true enough. Still, she just stood there wringing her hands. "Damn it! MOVE!" his voice boomed over the loud speaker, startling her so much she jumped and fled the room at a dead run. Much better. He hated using such vulgar language, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Each stitch was placed with precision while Dr. Hendry ignored the alarms. Weapon X would be subdued or he wouldn't, and if he wasn't then they'd all be dead soon anyway. But, if he was, then the doctor would have a massive influx of patients. Then again, maybe not. X doesn't often leave its prey on the alive side.
He knew from observing the numerous tests Weapon X went through that running would be a worthless venture. No, if he abandoned his Subject now, the boy would die. And if we do survive this, letting IX die because I was afraid for my life would be the last job decision I ever make. Even though this job was at times Hell on Earth, it was still cutting edge, Ha! Cutting edge indeed, Dr. Hendry thought with a bitter laugh as he pictured those adamantium claws beheading a grizzly.
A shudder caressed his insides, but his surgeon's hands remained steady even while he pictured himself in the bear's place. "We'll see soon enough," the doctor whispered to his catatonic patient. Another gash had been sutured with his accustomed precision, all the glass was removed, and the wounds were cleaned and sterilized.
Time had become a curious thing for the doctor. So much had been accomplished, yet he wasn't sure if any time had passed. Where was Weapon X now? Had it been killed? If such a thing was even possible, if that thing isn't immortal I doubt anything is. Was it headed this way now? Were he and IX the only ones left alive? Pointless questions, but he couldn't stop them from invading his mind while he worked on his patient and strained his ears for any sound besides the near deafening blare of the alarms.
Carol Hines never fancied herself a brave person, and she didn't think it was bravery that motivated her now. The Professor's voice still rang in her ears, overlapped with the booming snarl of her father when he'd been at the bottle. It was a tone that had ingrained obedience into her from an early age. Obedience that sent her fleeing into the arms of certain death. The thought of disobeying an order given in that tone hadn't even crossed her mind.
The control helmet felt like it weighed as much as a bowling ball, and her breath came in desperate gasps as she ran. One corner, another…and a third. Her frantic pace came to a careening halt when she stumbled over a mutilated corpse. A scream echoed and bounced off the walls, and it took her a moment to realize the sound was coming from her.
The shriek caused a wave of desperate movement from the man pile. Weapon X snarled and fought harder to escape, driven wild by the sound. A masculine bellow of pain made an interesting counterpoint to the shrill noise when one of the guards shifted too close. Blunt human teeth tore with predatory abandon into the exposed throat. Flesh shredded, and a fountain hot blood joined the now congealing mess covering him from head to toe. Dead weight settled in the pile, and it wasn't the only corpse that helped hold the beast down. "Bloody Hell! Hey chit, get yer ass over here and turn it the fuck off," a half muffled voice shouted.
The accusing voice jerked Dr. Hines out of her terror induced stupor, and she stumbled forward. Her mind could hardly process the carnage that littered the corridor. She choked back a whimper when she was forced to step over an arm that had lost its owner sometime during the battle.
"Hurry UP! We can't hold him forever," another voice, her frightened green eyes darted over the mound of guards, some of which were clearly dead. Hysteria threatened to overwhelm her as she wondered if the voice came from one of the corpses.
Her shoe slid in a pile of something she refused to identify, and Dr. Hines slipped, landing hard on her right knee. Agony jolted up her leg like lightning, and the physical pain gave her mind something solid to grab hold of. The mindless terror was shoved back, and her normal analytical mind reasserted itself. Weapon X is secure, all I need is access to its head, and the crisis will be averted, she thought. Regaining her feet, she strode forward with her head held high. Her bottle green eyes crawling over the mass of bodies in an attempt to determine where the weapon's head was located.
"You and you," her foot tapped two of the bodies, and one of them moved in a disconcertingly dead sort of way, I'll have to move that one myself, she realized "Er, you need to shift over to the right." Dr. Hines directed the guard who was still breathing. With a low grunt, he managed to shift over just enough to partially expose Weapon X's head. "Right." Taking a deep steadying breath, Dr. Hines kneeled on the gore soaked floor, and did her very best to ignore the feeling of cold blood soaking the knees of her pants.
Before she could give in to the fear that nibbled rat-like at her resolve, Dr. Hines reached out and twisted her fingers into the dead guard's dark hair. It was difficult to pull the lulling head out of the way, but the difficulty was more psychological than physical. He's dead for God's sake, I'm not going to hurt him. She held tightly to that thought and gave the lulling head a rough yank. It was hard not to gag at the gaping mouth shaped hole in the man's throat that was revealed when she'd moved the head.
A deep snarl flashed bloody teeth, and Carol's resolve nearly shattered when the beast lunged up, and nearly broke free from the exhausted guards. HIs teeth snapped a hair's length from her nose before she grabbed the last of her courage by its fleeing coattails and jammed the helmet onto Weapon X's raised head. She shook so badly that she almost couldn't flip the switch. Finally the soft hum of energy thrummed, and the mind numbing waves of the machine took effect. Instantly, muscles that had been straining with terrible force against the combined effort of the guards went slack, and a collective groan of relief echoed down the corridor as men began to release their grip.
Cutler hissed when the full, dead weight of Weapon X settled on him. The pile of men on top of X started to detangle, and with each weight removed Cutler was able to breathe a little easier. Lucky I didn't suffocate, wouldn't that have been a bitch? Killed by being the bottom of the god-damn dog pile, he thought with wary amusement. His vision began to fade, devoured by an increasing number of black dots. A soft chuckle bubbled on his lips; spiked with the bitter tang of blood.
Every step sent pain jolting up his legs, and Dr. Hendry considered the merits of laying down on the floor instead of competing the endless journey to his room. Step after exhausted, plodding step ate the distance between him and his room. Sleep sounded like a small piece of heaven after the past nine and a half hours of intense surgery. Good lord, I don't remember ever being this tired. Out of the seven men who'd made it to his table alive, only four left still breathing. And two of those were touch and go. If they made it through the night, they'd have a fighting chance. Hill was paralyzed, and the ex-military man would probably have preferred death.
"Not my call," he grunted, struggling to operate the door. His fatigue riddled mind, crashing from the lack of adrenalin, was nearly beaten by the complex workings of a door knob. Finally the tricky mechanism yielded to the power of opposable thumbs, and the doctor stumbled to his bed. I really should take a showe-
-Three Days Later-
A headache pounded behind the Professor's eyes, thudding in time with his heart by the time the call ended. He didn't know what was worse, the condescending tone of the Director when the man questioned everything from his hiring practices, to the exact nature of the emergency procedures at the Hive, or the sickening praise he'd received for creating such an effective weapon.
Anger still lingered like an after image on the back of his eyelids. The man's accusation of him lying infuriated the Professor when he'd informed the Director of how X was brought back under control. Yes, it was completely and utterly ridiculous, but that wasn't something to lie about. The Professor had to let the Director uplink to the system and view the security footage for himself before he would believe it.
"Well, I doubt anyone else will come up with such an unorthodox counter attack," the Director mused after watching the video for a third time. Weapon X was an impressive feat of random nature enhanced by precise engineering. Another groan escaped the Professor when he attempted to put all thoughts of the meddlesome man out of his mind. Two hours, two hours wasted in the verbal conference that spanned all aspects of the Weapon X project, as well as a detailed report on subject IX, who had started the whole fiasco.
A brisk tap on the door interrupted his troubled thoughts. The Professor straightened, his gaze darting to the clock. Time had gotten away from him and some long overdue business needed to be resolved. "Enter." The word was cold and didn't bode well for whoever was on the other side of the door.
Major Deavers stepped smartly into the room, his uniform pressed and his stance spoke of long years in the military. "Sir, you wished to see me?" He asked, his voice held no hint of the worry he felt.
"Yes, come in and shut the door behind you."
The door swished shut behind him after Deavers entered. He stood at attention in front of the Professor's massive oak desk and silently cursed the entire Weapon X program. Heads were going to roll, and it didn't take a genius to know whose neck was in the noose on this one.
"I'm not going to dance around the issue Deavers, your performance under pressure left much to be desired. If it wasn't for the actions of one of your subordinates, this facility would have been lost. I don't have to spell it out for you, do I?" Stone flat eyes pinned the man where he stood, and Deavers couldn't help the small shiver of fear that marched down his spine. Those were the eyes of a true scientist, and Deavers didn't feel quite as badly about being let go. The Professor would meticulously cut a man to pieces just to see how he worked, and never flinch as his blade pealed back the fine layers of still living flesh.
"I understand, sir."
"Good, your clearance will be revoked at 0600 tomorrow. If you're still here after that time you will be arrested for trespassing."
"Yes sir, good day." Deavers said before turning on his heel and stalked out of the room. Stuck up prig, it isn't like he did anything of note during the disaster. His thoughts darkened while he walked. Thirty years, he'd given thirty years of his life to the military. His career didn't have a single blemish on it, and that sniveling brain thought he had the right to judge him? This is all that upstart Cutler's fault. That bastard always thought he was too good to fall in line.
Without deciding to do so, Deavers feet took him not towards his room, but straight ahead to the medical wing. His aged, but still strong hands clenched into fists as his common sense was blinded by fury. Stupid brat, he wouldn't be anything without me. That pompous ass will give the puppy my position. The poisonous thoughts fed on each other, growing to mind consuming proportions.
By the time he'd opened the door to the medical wing, Deavers mind was set.
"Hey what are you—" a fist to the side of the head silenced the male nurse's question without the Major having to break stride. The young man crumpled to the floor at the deranged Major's feet. A snarl curled Deavers lip, and he kicked the stunned man's body out of the way. Bright vengeful eyes landed on the three beds that held occupants. He grinned viciously when he saw Cutler in the center bed.
The younger man was ghostly pale from the amount of blood he'd lost from X's last attack, but overall he would make a full recovery sans a few bits of rib bone that had been removed. Deavers stalked forward, his heart beat heavy in his chest. The almost forgotten surge adrenalin associated with having a man in his sights on the battle field flooded his veins. It had been a long time since he'd killed a man, but Deavers could still remember the near Godly moment of deliberately taking a life.
Cutler's pale blue eyes snapped open when his air supply was abruptly cut off. The angry red face of the Major loomed over him, and Cut's oxygen starved brain urged his still weak body to react, but it was too late, the Major's grip was precise and darkness blurred Cutler's vision. His arms felt like they weighed a ton, and he had barely lifted them before everything went black.
A husky, not all together sane laugh rang through the room. "Not so tough now, are you Cut?" He mocked while the younger man tried, and failed, to break his hold. "So you thought you were so much better than me didn't y-" he gasped. The mad rant was cut off by a sharp point of agony in his lower back. Twisting around, Deavers stumbled over the man half crumpled on the floor.
"I…always thought…you were an...ass," Hill gasped when Deavers fell over him. The ex-marine's legs were twisted in a way that would have been excruciating if he had any feeling below the waist. When he'd woken up to the Major's deranged laughter and saw the bastard attempting to kill the man who'd saved all their asses, Hill grabbed the pen by his bed side and flung himself rather foolishly off the bed. He could feel stitches and staples tear under the sudden exertion, but that didn't matter now. Deavers sat up, and his fist crashed with brutal effectiveness into Hill's nose, sending shards of bone deep into the man's brain. Deavers hesitated at the small satisfied smirk that lingered on the dead man's lips before dismissing it.
With a grunt, the Major staggered to his feet. "Now, where were we?" He asked as he reached around and jerked the pen out of his back. Hot liquid soaked his hand in an instant, and he swayed. "Shit." The cork the pen had made in his ruptured abdominal aorta was released, and his life's blood gushed from the wound. One wobbly step, two, and he tripped over the dead man's bent leg and fell. Hill's last gift to Cutler was simply being in the right place at the right time. The Major bled out before he could continue his assault.
Agent Franks was dazed and confused. Last Monday, he had been the bottom man, the newest recruit and now, somehow, he was the second banana. Not only that, but right now, he was the First Banana since Cut was still out of commission. He couldn't believe it, out of fifty men only two survived, and he, newbie extraordinaire, had got off with only a few bruises, and a dislocated shoulder.
Shaking his head, he continued scrubbing the floor. "Stupid green slime," he sighed while the scrub brush hissed over the cement and its thick layer of nearly as hard, dry slime. The one plus to being first banana was the ability to pick the job he wanted. With so many guards dead, there hadn't been anyone left to clean up the mess. So, three days later, the new recruits finally arrived. It had been difficult, even for the Director, to replace so many men on such short notice, and cleaning up the dead fell to their bottom of the totem pole asses. But, even he had to help out, and he chose cleaning up the Lab. At the time he'd believed the green fluid would come up easily, and at least it wasn't the semi-rotten corpses of people he'd known. He'd been wrong, the damn stuff was stuck fast, and if he was lucky he might be done by the time he was eighty-five. Still, it was better than dealing with the dead.
Another bonus of Franks new status was the fact that, as the only able body guard left, he finally received the highest clearance a guard could. Warm brown eyes strayed to the large bio-chamber that now housed Weapon IX. It was roughly seven times larger than the capsulea that had broken, and the twitching, squirming body in the green fluid made his stomach quiver.
Yesterday, the doctors and scientists spent several hours working on the small, emaciated form. As the only guard, he was present just in case. In case what, I have no idea. That little kid probably can't even stand up, let alone attack someone, he thought, trying to forget the sight of the men systematically inserting thousands of wires into the boy's emaciated form. Most of the words the scientists used were far beyond the young guard's comprehension, but he was able to glean a bit of what was going on. Apparently the boy didn't have any memory of ever existing, like clones. Though he wasn't sure what happened or why they were comparing him to clones, and didn't they stop cloning after the sheep died? He wondered. Basically, the boy didn't know squat, including rather important stuff like how to walk or talk. So, the wires were hooked into all his muscles and through muscle memory, and the use of a computer program he was being taught at a crazy rate by electricity stimulating his muscles.
Again he shook his head. It was far beyond his understanding, and in the end it was probably best to leave the science experiments to the scientists. Except when they get out of hand, and we need to put them back in their place. He smirked a bit, and his chest puffed out at the thought. The Hive was perfectly secure with him and Cutler in charge.
He was hiding again. Not hiding, I'm doing research, Dr. Cornelius scolded himself, but it rang false even in his own mind. They all knew, he was sure, and they were laughing behind his back. That was the reason he was sequestered in his personal lab, and had barely ventured out in the past three days. He'd helped with the procedures done on IX but every glance in his direction felt hot with scorn, and he knew they knew.
Cornelius distracted himself from his paranoid thoughts by reviewing the brain scans again. "Astonishing," he murmured while he reviewed the scan from just prior to the event, then the one during the event, and the one after. When they'd first wired IX up, he hadn't understood why the Professor insisted on continual brain scans, now he knew there was far more to IX than he'd been led to believe. And I will prefect him.
The scans showed a massive increase of activity in the brain stem, the eldest part of the brain and prior to now, believed to be involved exclusively with involuntary functions such as breathing and heart rate. The boy's power, a mutation, he'd been informed, was centered in the brain stem making it a function that was outside of his conscious control. That wouldn't do, so Cornelius was tasked with finding a way to rewire the subject's brain so that he could control the power consciously. It was tricky, very tricky, but a good friend may have already given him the key.
Three years ago, his best friend Sam lost his sight in a lab explosion. One of the risks of accepting interns was dealing with the stupid mistakes young people made when they learned. Unfortunately, this particular mistake killed the intern, and left his friend both scarred and blind. He hadn't been able to do anything about the scarring. That wasn't his area of expertise, but he had managed to create a form of nano-technology that was of great use to his friend. Cornelius, after nearly six months of theory and testing, found a way to bridge the gap between the visual cortex and the audio. He'd re-wired his friend's brain so that his hearing could use the large, now useless visual cortex, which resulted in a low grade version of echo location.
The theory of linking two similar areas was one he'd conquered, but linking two vastly different parts of the brain was the trick. He had three weeks to figure it out, according to Dr. Hendry. By then the subject, who was now being fed a complex mixture of nutrients to correct the damage caused by malnutrition now that the growth plates had fused, would be healthy as a horse. The first stage of programming will be completed as well. Even someone as educated as himself couldn't help but be amazed by the advancements made in the name of research at this facility. Just as infants would be impractical for the cloning program resulted in the development of the accelerated growth process, adults with the minds of infants would be equally worthless. To overcome the difficulty, a program was developed that uploaded information directly into the subject's brain, language, fighting styles, tactics, weapons functionality, and most importantly, obedience.
Now that stage one was complete, he had all of stage two to develop the next procedure that would be used on the subject. I'll achieve what they never could, and then they'll all forget about how I hid under the bed when X went on his rampage.
Thank you to my reviewers and those who alerted this story, and added it to their favorites. I'm glad everyone likes it so far.