The specimens tucked away behind the specialized steel bars were completely silent as he walked past. It was definitely a far cry from the ruckus they were making three days ago, when they actually thought they had a chance to escape.
Well, that rambunctiousness wasn’t usually in their nature. In his thirty years of mutant experimentation to find a cure he’d never seen them do anything besides crawl pathetically into a corner. That was until they acquired 6521, a perfect specimen.
Genetically speaking, of course. It would have been a perfect specimen if it’d crawl into its corner like the others. No, it had to fight them at every turn. That in its self wouldn’t have been a problem, except for it convinced the other specimens they could, and should, do they same.
He stopped in front of the heavy bolted door, the only one of its kind in the line. “Open it,” he commanded one of the employees standing behind him.
The employee nodded and adjusted his gun on his shoulder so he could unlatch the key ring from his belt. As soon as he flicked his wrist Hartmen pushed him out of the way and opened the door himself. Inside was a well lit area with a guard, who promptly stood when Hartmen walked in. Further into the space was a set of bars and then complete darkness behind them.
“Sir,” the guard greeted.
“Shut up,” Hartmen sneered and pushed past him. He walked further up to the bars, not getting any closer than a foot from them. “Wakey-wakey time,” he called into the darkness.
A groggy, pained “Fuck you” floated from some where in the dark.
Hartmen smiled, evidently satisfied at the strain in the voice. “It wasn’t that bad, was it? You didn’t really think we were just going to let you go without getting a few more tests did you?”
There was silence in the room before a softer voice came from behind the bars. “....Go?” It asked, confused, hopefully, tired, all at the same time.
“Why, yes,” Hartmen motioned for one of his employees to stop forward. “I have your key right here. As much as it pains me to say it, 6521, you will be leaving us today.”
Again silence stretched on in the tiny cell room. After a minute the sound of someone shifting in the darkness followed by the soft padding of bare feet on the cold cement floor broke it.
Hartmen smiled at her as she emerged from the shadows. “Ah, my dear Rogue.” He took the keys from the employee. “You’ve tried to run away from me for the last time,” he paused to sigh dramatically. “You win.”
Foggy, dazed green eyes shifted from his face to the nine or ten men standing piled up behind him, most of them clutching their guns tightly. She narrowed her eyes at him from under a curtain of stringy white hair.
“...Ya jus’ lettin’ me go?” She asked skeptically with her sand paper voice. “What about tha othas?”
“Ah,” Hartmen said. “Well, I’m afraid the military didn’t want them.” A toothy grin spread onto his face and he shrugged. “Just you.”
“The military?” She echoed.
“Yes, military,” he affirmed with a nod. “They have graciously agreed to buy you and take you off my hands. They said they know just how to reign in rogue units.”
To several of the men’s surprise in the room, a small smile came up on her face. When Hartmen saw it he instantly raised his hand. “Oh, no, my dear. No elaborate escape attempts for you. Appling, tranq it.”
She came to in a green room. It startled her because all the rooms she had ever been in were either white or grey cement. She tried to sit up but for some reason she couldn’t get enough strength in her arms to push her upper body in any sort of general direction.
“Colonel Sie, she’s awake,” a voice behind her said. It wasn’t a voice she recognized and she tried even harder to get some cooperation from her numb limbs.
“Good. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a click, electronic–walkie talkie. She managed to tilt her head to the side. The employees didn’t have walkie talkies, they used phones.
“Don’t move,” the voice behind her warned. It lightened her up a bit, there was a tremble underlying it.
The deep clang of metal moving came a few seconds later, followed by the stomping of heavy boots. Four sets, as far as she could tell. The employees definitely did not wear boots.
“So. You are the rogue.” A man suddenly stepped into her field of vision. He was elder, had a thick white moustache and was bald on top. He was wearing a green and brown printed suit. Military. “I hear you’ve been giving the GenNest Company hell. I like that. Deadly skin; young, attractive body; and piss and vinegar in your blood, just my kind of mutant.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes at the man and instead tried to concentrate on her body. She could feel she was still wearing the wire suit from the labs, which meant naked arms and legs– plenty of toxic skin.
“Now,” the Colonel went on as he paced back and forth in front of her, his hands clasped together behind his back. “I dare say you’ll like it here infinitely more than at GenNest. We find your mutation sufficient. So simply do as we say and I can assure you we will keep you in good health. What say you to that?”
No response came from her, she merely blinked at him. Confused, he looked up from her to the other military personal in the room, they all shrugged. “You do speak, don’t you?”
She proved her abilities by saying, “Fuck off.”
There was a clatter of movement behind her but the Colonel shook his head and then started laughing. “That Mr. Hartmen is a clever man. I think ‘Rogue’ is a very apt name for you, firefly. I think we should get something straight here. I don’t hate mutants. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without them. They make my work much easier.”
Then he kneeled down to her level and took of chuck of white hair in his hand. She tried to pull back away from him, but her body still refused. “You see, firefly?” He asked, holding the hair into her face. “See how much stress those horrible labs put on you? And it was such a beautiful color before...” He dropped the hair in his hand so he could stroke the remaining dark chocolate locks.
“Get tha hell away from me,” she hissed with as much venom as she could muster since she could do nothing with her body.
He stood up again. “I’m saving you. No more experiments, no more pain, you just have to do what we ask of you. You are a very pretty girl, even with those nasty scars. But how many more scars do you think it will take before you a no longer pretty? Not too many more...I’ll ask you again, firefly, what do you say?”
“Ah say...” she started, forcing her chin up as high as she could. “Kiss mah ass. Ah ain’t doin’ shit.”
He nodded, and then motioned to someone behind her. “Very well. Rogue to the end it will be then? Fine, we’ll treat you as hostile if that’s what you wish. Sergeant Alvin, please make sure you get the number tattooed on her from GenNest into the computer, at least we won’t have to waste a set of dog tags on this one.”
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