Search and Rescue: Things Overheard While Brainwashed

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Scott finally finds out what this is all about. Unfortunately, knowing is not half the battle.


His head felt very strange. Not just because there was something locked around it. He'd woken up not able to see, and the feel of whatever they'd put over his eyes reminded him instantly of the ruby quartz-lined restraint Stryker had used to hold back his optic blasts at Alkali Lake. Which made sense... right? If Lyman had worked with Stryker, he would know. Logic.

He only wished the rest of the situation made as much sense. Scott tried very hard to think through the fog, take stock of his situation as much as he was able. Detail by detail. He was sitting upright, couldn't move his hands. Couldn't use his optic blasts. They'd put some thought into restraining him, obviously. There was the low murmur of voices around him, and they echoed a little, in a very specific way - stone, or concrete walls. He had spent enough time blind to be able to recognize slight differences in sounds. There was water dripping somewhere, too. It seemed louder than the voices. Which was definitely odd.

"Lyman?" Might as well risk it. His voice sounded slurred, though. Not a good sign. It matched the inside of his head.

"I'm here, Mr. Summers," Lyman's voice had an odd echo to it -curved walls? The sound of footsteps on concrete - damp concrete by the slide and scrape - stopped behind and to the left of Scott. An old, yet effective psychological ploy - even unable to see, having the interrogator on Scott's 'blind side' put him at more of a disadvantage.

"I'm going to ask you to recall some things from Alkali Lake, Mr. Summers," Lyman continued, the cadence of his voice almost hypnotic. "While you were under the effects of Jason Stryker's chemical influence, you observed a meeting between two men. One was Colonel Stryker, and one was a scientific researcher whose name you do not need to know. I need to know the structure and details of this conversation, and I believe those details lie within your subconscious. You are going to recall them for me."

Scott caught himself thinking of Stryker's bearded, smiling face before he could stop himself; Lyman's tone was that leading. He shook his head a little, wincing as dizziness washed over him in waves. This wasn't just the residue of the sedative, they'd given him something else. He could tell, and felt a brief flicker of panic at the realization. Like most energy-projectors, his metabolism didn't react very well to anything stronger than tylenol.

"I don't remember anything from Alkali Lake..." Not quite the truth. But he didn't remember this meeting, whatever it had been about.

A hand on Scott's head, gentle yet firm, adjusting his neck slightly so that he could feel the telltale thin probe of an IV catheter. Lyman patted Scott on the shoulder softly, almost a show of camaraderie. In reality, Scott understood, it was a calculated gesture, designed to engender trust.

"Sodium pentathol and amyl nitrate, Mr. Summers. Not all of us have the wonderful abilities of Charles Xavier or Jason Stryker, to reach into a mind and simply pluck out what we wish. So the old-fashioned chemical inducements must suffice." Lyman's voice circled around Scott, the echoes making it almost impossible to judge his location. "Your subconscious records everything you see or hear, Mr. Summers, even while under hypnosis or chemical restraint. You may remember key incidents, triggered through words, sounds, phrases, smells..."

The smell was what had been the most subtle. Wet concrete, the almost-buried scent of lime and old metal - but new plastic, the crackle of computer monitors, the crisp snap of a military uniform. Almost perfectly designed to mimic the sensations of being inside the dam complex at Alkali Lake.

"The word I am interested in is adamantium, Mr. Summers. Tell me what that means to you."

Adamantium, Scott thought dimly. What the hell did I see... "Logan," he muttered. Focus on the here-and-now. On what was already known. "Logan's skeleton is adamantium."

"Precisely the subject we need to know, Mr. Summers," Lyman continued, the tap-tap-slide of his boots on the concrete almost hypnotic in their rhythm. "This researcher happens to be the one man left alive who knows the process by which adamantium, that unbreakable metal, can be bonded to biological tissue. In Logan's case, his skeleton. In others... well, you don't need to know that. He discussed this process with Colonel Stryker, Mr. Summers. You were present, your mind remembers."

Was Lyman beginning to sound... angry? Definitely more tense. Pressed for time, perhaps? Thoughts were interrupted by the uncomfortable sensation of the IV being removed, and the sharp tang of alcohol being rubbed over the insertion point, as well as other parts of Scott's arms and shoulders.

Playing dumb was possibly not a very good idea. Even if it wasn't an act.

"I ask you again, Mr. Summers. Try and recall everything that you heard, everything you saw. Cooperation is much less painful than coercion, I have found. But I am not above pain, Mr. Summers. Cooperate."

He knows Charles will find me. Drugs or no drugs. The drugs just meant it would take him a little longer. Scott supposed that answered the question of whether they were behind any kind of psi-shielding, too.

Time. He needed time. Think. Not about Alkali Lake. Scott concentrated on the mental exercises Charles had taught him years ago, the ones he'd practiced on a daily basis for over a decade until his mind was just as uncrackable as that of any of the highly-trained ex-government types that had lived at the school at one time or another. There was no telepath trying to get at his thoughts here, but the level of control was something he suspected he was going to need.

And the threats and the edge of emotion in Lyman's voice meant they were short on leverage. Meant Alex had gotten away. A tiny, humorless smile tugged at Scott's lips, despite the first stirrings of fear as the seriousness of the situation fully penetrated his drugged haze.

"I don't remember a meeting." Truth, not defiance, but he didn't think Lyman was going to see the distinction.

A tsk-tsk noise behind Scott's ear announced Lyman's position. "Bravado, Mr. Summers. Hubris, arrogant pride. This is not a good choice, you must understand this. I ask for information that is of no use to you, and a great deal of use to me. Understand that if I do not get this information, then you become of no use to me. It's very simple, Mr. Summers. You do not seem to wish to willingly recall this information. I think it's time we tested that will."

Cold metal against the bare skin of Scott's arms. Monitors? No, electrodes. That hum and crackle...

This was going to hurt.