She woke abruptly, feeling the walls closing in on her. The first thing she saw was Sabretooth still leaning against the wall, snoring softly. There still wasn’t any real lighting in their small prison, but that didn’t mean much. The soldiers and the scientists told them whether it was night or day. The lights came on and went off no matter what the real world was experiencing. They were told when to sleep and when to get up. There wasn’t much to do during the day unless you were lined up for a new procedure, so you often found yourself alone with your thoughts. She preferred to sleep.
But now, when she needed it most, the one bliss she could usually find in this earthly version of hell eluded her. Instead, she found herself twitching at every noise, waiting for something to happen. She was waiting for a pair of greasy hands to emerge from the shadows and grab her, taking away the small sense of security she had found in the most unlikely company.
Someone coughed in the distance, and she heard herself squeak in reply as her body twitched. Maybe the guards had only decided to wait until her new savior was asleep before they tried to take her again. Maybe they were hiding, shrouded in darkness, waiting for their chance. She was too absorbed in watching the door, waiting for it to open to notice movement coming from her left. She didn’t know what she would do if they tried something now, but, one thing was for sure, she was going to fight. Win or lose, she wasn’t going to go quietly. Not anymore.
She felt his eyes on her before anything else. She hadn’t even heard his snores subside. Turning, she was surprised to find his eyes on her, watching her too closely, openly curious. She didn’t like the way his eyes bored into her, searching for something that she wasn’t sure she still possessed.
“What is it, Frail?” he asked softly. He stood up and walked to her, his movements slow and deliberate. She wondered how she must look, if he was treating her like a skittish animal. “What’s wrong?”
“If they come for me,” she whispered, pausing to swallow her fear as best she could. There was no way she was going to go back into that hell. It didn’t matter if there was any chance of escape from this. “You have to fight. Don’t let them take me. I don’t know what they have planned for me, but - but I can’t go through that again.”
He let his shoulders relax as he sat next to her on the bench. He sighed loudly, obviously agitated by her demand. “I already told you I would help you, Rogue. It’s going to get real fucking annoying to have you keep asking the same shit every half hour.”
“Yeah, I know. But there is one more thing,” she licked her lips, tearing her eyes away from his. Her body shook with the fear of having him so close to her, only millimeters from touching. It wasn’t even so much the threat of what he once was. She shook with the fear of knowing that he was male, and what he could easily do to her if he wanted to. Now that her skin was off, it was pretty much open season on her for anyone. Even with all of her experience in hand-to-hand combat, she hadn’t been training that long. Logan had showed her some things, but even most of her fighting skills were based on the Wolverine in her head, whispering to her what she needed to do. She didn’t have that now. It seemed that whatever technology these people had used to suppress her mutation made the voices and memories of those she touched mere ghosts in her head. Now she found that she could only feel the bare minimum of their emotions. She had memories of memories that, in essence, were useless.
Victor watched her closely as she lost herself in thought. He knew that she was fighting with some inner demons, but he wasn’t sure which side was winning. Part of him wanted to hurry her up. The shifts would change soon and they would have to think of something fast if she was really willing to stay.
Finally she spoke again, and later, he would admit to himself that he wasn’t really that surprised by her words.
“If it looks like we aren’t going to win, like they are going to be able to get their damn hands on me and take me away again…” her voice trailed off, and again, he found himself waiting with more patience than he had ever thought he could have. “I need you to kill me. I know you can do it. I know what you are capable of. Do not let them have me. They have something planned for me. Something big. I can’t let them do whatever it is they need to do.”
“Alright,” he agreed with a shrug. She was shocked by his nonchalant reaction. But then, why shouldn’t she be? This was Sabretooth, after all. “How ever you want to go.”
She was going to have to thank him, as hard as that would be right now. How did you thank someone for promising to kill you? But then the lights came on and she knew it was time to face whatever was going to be thrown at them next.
It was the first time he had really seen her fully, and he flinched at the sight. She wasn’t sickly thin yet, but close enough. There were bruises marring her skin, old yellow marks kissing the pale skin in odd places on her face. Fresher bruises of dark blue, black and purple ran along her arms and legs. He had known what they were doing to her, but he hadn’t realized the extent of it all until now, looking at her closely. Her hair was matted and dirty from weeks of sweat and filth build-up. But it was her eyes that were worse than anything else. Large eyes that were too big for her face but somehow made her beautiful. Brown pools that were far older than her years. She had lived through lifetimes of pain and torture at the hands of others. She was no more than 19 or 20 now, but the pain in her eyes spoke of centuries.
“They’re coming,” he growled softly, watching her body stiffen. He knew why she wanted him to kill her and it had nothing to do with these people’s big plans. But, if that was what she wanted him to think, he wasn’t going to argue.
He listened closely as the footsteps echoed closer to their cell. There were at least seven people. The sound of military-issue boots alerted him to the presence of guards, but at least one pair had the squeaky sound of office shoes.
A face appeared in the small barred hole in his door. He was much older than those around him, the creases around his eyes and mouth telling his age. His eyes were old, not as old as the kid’s, but old enough. And his skin had the pink, healthy glow of one who worked in the safe cool air of an office or lab; no outside work for this man.
“And how the hell are we supposed to pull her out of there, pray tell?” the doctor asked, looking skeptically at someone just beyond the window.
The voice was unmistakable, and he sensed Rogue stiffen even further at the sound. Wayland: her own personal demon. “I told them that it was a bad idea, Dr. Saunders. But the guys, you have to understand, they’re under a lot of stress. And we just found out that no one’s getting the raise we were all hoping for. They just needed to let off some steam.”
“Well,” the big boss replied with a sickly sweet smile as he turned his attention back to those within the cage, “if you need to let off some steam, I guess the best way would be to put you to work. Your crew is now on probation. The entire crew, Mr. Romas. You will be in charge of cleaning the cells when our specimens are in for testing and procedures. You will also dispose of any waste we may handle during these procedures. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Wayland replied quickly, though, judging by his tone, he was not happy with his punishment.
“Now, when you and your friends were abusing your privileges,” Dr. Saunders continued slowly, his voice tolerant and devoid of any real emotion, “did you use any protection or am I going to have a pregnant mutant to take care of?”
“Of course we did, Doctor. We all did. We were careful about that. All of us.” At Wayland’s words, Victor felt Rogue relax considerably.
“Very good. Just a few more things and then you are dismissed for tonight,” Dr. Saunders continued quickly. “First off, you and your entire crew are suspended with pay for the next week. Go home to your wives and children. Face them with the knowledge of what you did to this girl. Regardless of her mutation, she is still a human being and little more than a child. I believe you have a daughter her age. Look at your daughter and understand how you would feel knowing that someone did to her just once what you have been doing to this child nightly for the last few weeks.”
“Yes, Sir.” The distinct sound of boots turning and walking away was clear as Victor held his breath, waiting for what was to happen next.
“One more thing, Mr. Romas, if you please.” The retreating footsteps stopped, but did not return. “If you or any member of your crew so much as breathe on another of our specimens, I will personally see that your employment is terminated. And I know you already have an idea of what that means, correct?”
“Yes, Sir.” And Wayland was gone. After a few moments of watching the way Victor interacted with the kid, the good doctor signaled the others to retreat.
“What do we do now, Doctor?”
Dr. Saunders looked up from the files he had open on his desk. One was marked ‘Victor Creed AKA Sabretooth’, the other simply said ‘Rogue’. “We let them keep each other. It says here that the girl was given a depo shot upon entry. She has a little over two months for that to work its way out of her system. Once it has, they should be procreating nicely. I believe that any offspring these two conceive will be quite powerful. A nice weapon, if I say so myself. This child and the mother, well, if we are able to train them both correct, they will both be a wonderful contribution to our nation’s military.”
“And Creed?” the head of security asked suspiciously. He had a feeling he already knew what the good doctor was going to say.
Dr. Saunders smiled slowly, his eyes twinkling with unholy glee. “Victor Creed has been a thorn in my side for the last three years. No more. Once he has done his part, he shall be destroyed.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Props to biohelixx for going through two chapters in a swift amount of time.
Chapter End Notes:
Got two chapters done at the same time. Yeah Me!!!!