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xp_logs2004-06-15 12:52 am
x-marrow.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2004-06-15 12:52 am
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Sarah gets the break she was hoping for.
Thanks to Alan for the socking help. :)
Sarah spent the last few minutes of her time in the training room pulling the bones back in as best she could, wiping a mixture of blood and sweat off of her with a little black towel. Leaving her horns just for the hell of it, she threw the towel into her bag and headed out, bag hanging on her shoulder while she fought with her hair to pull it back up and out of her face.
A furtive, ragged man uncurled from a corner as she came out into the hall; filthy hair and a straggly beard framed a sagging, once-plump face, and dull eyes peered out from behind cracked glasses. He wore a coat that, long ago, might have been white. "You're--" He cleared his throat. "You're Marrow. I found you. I need--need to confess." He closed his eyes and cringed, anticipating a blow. "I know why your family died."
Sarah's hands fell to her side, hair falling in clumps around her horns and into her face. She whipped a bone out from her hip, holding the sharp edge dangerously close to him, backing him up against the wall. "You'd better explain yourself fast," she growled, "Before I leave you dead right here in the fucking hallway. I can find another place to fight."
He collapsed, head bowed, hands shielding his neck. "When I was a person," he gasped frantically, "when I was who I was, I worked for the government. I was just a lab technician, nobody important, but the work we were doing--I thought that was everything--and my name, my name, my name was . . . it was Eberts. Edward Eberts. There was a project. Very secret. Needed to be tested."
She remained standing, boned hand clenching into a fist as he talked. Stupid fucker wasn't getting to the point. "And what does this have to do with the Morlocks? You're this close to making me want to take out a vital organ for every second I spend waiting for you to get to the fucking point!"
He peered up at her. "That is the point. The testing was the point. Mutant DNA . . . he took mutant DNA, grafted it onto soldiers, and they changed, but they needed to find out how much. Needed to test their new model army. On people no one would miss. So they sent them. And I went, I went along, I didn't know. Just stay in the truck, Eberts, monitor the telemetry. But I saw--I saw--I saw--" He broke off, shuddering. "Horrible. Horrible. What they did. Even the children." He smiled slightly, bitterly. "Not all the children. I disobeyed orders, left the truck. I hid. I couldn't save them all, but I saved two, got them to the best homes I could. Two little boys. They're still out there, I hope. And there was you, I saw you come back, but I couldn't do anything else then. And they were looking for me, by then. I hid again, and ran and ran. Then I saw you again on a magazine, and found you here, and I hoped--the two little boys, you see. Your family's not all dead. I thought you should know."
"...No one would miss," she repeated, slowly, each word harsher than the one before, sounding nearly hysteric as she rammed her hand hard into the wall beside him. The sound of bone cracking echoed through the hallway, and blood started dripping down her arm. "A test. They died because you needed -labrats-?" No way was she telling him about Artie and Leech, not now with them looking for him. It was bad enough that he knew they -survived-.
"I tried to stop it as soon as I knew. But it was too important. Too many people looking over too many shoulders, looking at the future, nobody listening to test-tube washers. And the unit. The soldiers." His face twisted, horror and revulsion. "They wanted to. They joked about it. Punching bags that bled."
"It's better when it fights back," she mumbled, never more sure of her own monstrosity than right then. She was just like them. And it made her feel sick. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and gave him a dark, determined look. "Who are they? Where are they?"
"I only know some. Haven't, you know, been able to keep track, where they are now, not all of them." He pulled a very grubby file out of his jacket pocket. "Names, though, I have their names. And what they can do. Some are still with the miltary, some may have retired." He looked up at Sarah, eyes suddenly clear. "You're going to go after them?"
Her expression didn't change. "You don't fuck with the Morlocks and walk away breathing." She took the file from him, and started flipping through it, keeping one eye on him, and the bone in her hand still at the ready.
He nodded, head drooping again. "Be careful of the leader. Grey Crow, but they called him Scalphunter. I've never seen anyone kill like that."
Sarah stopped flipping through the file, her finger tucked inside the file as she closed it. She pulled the bag from her shoulder, and tucked the file inside. She had work to do. Maybe then she could worry about what the fuck she'd been doing -training- with the asshole. Looking back up again, she growled, "Yeah. I've seen him."
Sarah spent the last few minutes of her time in the training room pulling the bones back in as best she could, wiping a mixture of blood and sweat off of her with a little black towel. Leaving her horns just for the hell of it, she threw the towel into her bag and headed out, bag hanging on her shoulder while she fought with her hair to pull it back up and out of her face.
A furtive, ragged man uncurled from a corner as she came out into the hall; filthy hair and a straggly beard framed a sagging, once-plump face, and dull eyes peered out from behind cracked glasses. He wore a coat that, long ago, might have been white. "You're--" He cleared his throat. "You're Marrow. I found you. I need--need to confess." He closed his eyes and cringed, anticipating a blow. "I know why your family died."
Sarah's hands fell to her side, hair falling in clumps around her horns and into her face. She whipped a bone out from her hip, holding the sharp edge dangerously close to him, backing him up against the wall. "You'd better explain yourself fast," she growled, "Before I leave you dead right here in the fucking hallway. I can find another place to fight."
He collapsed, head bowed, hands shielding his neck. "When I was a person," he gasped frantically, "when I was who I was, I worked for the government. I was just a lab technician, nobody important, but the work we were doing--I thought that was everything--and my name, my name, my name was . . . it was Eberts. Edward Eberts. There was a project. Very secret. Needed to be tested."
She remained standing, boned hand clenching into a fist as he talked. Stupid fucker wasn't getting to the point. "And what does this have to do with the Morlocks? You're this close to making me want to take out a vital organ for every second I spend waiting for you to get to the fucking point!"
He peered up at her. "That is the point. The testing was the point. Mutant DNA . . . he took mutant DNA, grafted it onto soldiers, and they changed, but they needed to find out how much. Needed to test their new model army. On people no one would miss. So they sent them. And I went, I went along, I didn't know. Just stay in the truck, Eberts, monitor the telemetry. But I saw--I saw--I saw--" He broke off, shuddering. "Horrible. Horrible. What they did. Even the children." He smiled slightly, bitterly. "Not all the children. I disobeyed orders, left the truck. I hid. I couldn't save them all, but I saved two, got them to the best homes I could. Two little boys. They're still out there, I hope. And there was you, I saw you come back, but I couldn't do anything else then. And they were looking for me, by then. I hid again, and ran and ran. Then I saw you again on a magazine, and found you here, and I hoped--the two little boys, you see. Your family's not all dead. I thought you should know."
"...No one would miss," she repeated, slowly, each word harsher than the one before, sounding nearly hysteric as she rammed her hand hard into the wall beside him. The sound of bone cracking echoed through the hallway, and blood started dripping down her arm. "A test. They died because you needed -labrats-?" No way was she telling him about Artie and Leech, not now with them looking for him. It was bad enough that he knew they -survived-.
"I tried to stop it as soon as I knew. But it was too important. Too many people looking over too many shoulders, looking at the future, nobody listening to test-tube washers. And the unit. The soldiers." His face twisted, horror and revulsion. "They wanted to. They joked about it. Punching bags that bled."
"It's better when it fights back," she mumbled, never more sure of her own monstrosity than right then. She was just like them. And it made her feel sick. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and gave him a dark, determined look. "Who are they? Where are they?"
"I only know some. Haven't, you know, been able to keep track, where they are now, not all of them." He pulled a very grubby file out of his jacket pocket. "Names, though, I have their names. And what they can do. Some are still with the miltary, some may have retired." He looked up at Sarah, eyes suddenly clear. "You're going to go after them?"
Her expression didn't change. "You don't fuck with the Morlocks and walk away breathing." She took the file from him, and started flipping through it, keeping one eye on him, and the bone in her hand still at the ready.
He nodded, head drooping again. "Be careful of the leader. Grey Crow, but they called him Scalphunter. I've never seen anyone kill like that."
Sarah stopped flipping through the file, her finger tucked inside the file as she closed it. She pulled the bag from her shoulder, and tucked the file inside. She had work to do. Maybe then she could worry about what the fuck she'd been doing -training- with the asshole. Looking back up again, she growled, "Yeah. I've seen him."