Imagine our world if a single line of DNA marked a fraction of our population as different? Imagine if we could stop fighting amongst ourselves to face this common threat? Now imagine if they really are a danger to your family? How would our world be altered? And more importantly: how would they respond to our hatred?
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Note: Some language and or concepts may be offensive.
A young woman opens her eyes to see steel walls all around her, the room is seven feet wide and circular, the ceiling above is ten feet high with blinding lights hanging down from it. Her name is Sharon Marx, and her genetic code makes her an outcast.
For the first couple of minutes she covers her eyes to block the light. She only somewhat remembers being knocked out by a tranquillizer dart. She stands up; short perfect crimson hair sets her apart from her black jumpsuit that was ideal for her line of work. She paces around the room glowering at the walls before finally saying
"I know the law, where the fuck is my lawyer?" as she says this she notices the complete lack of any door leading into the room, and wonders why it's all made of metal.
"Indeed you do," says a male voice seeming to come from all around her "Mutant code chapter five, subsection eight, quote: 'any mutant who has failed to follow any and all local registrations for his or her special abilities, may be detained without privileges for as long as the local and or international authorities deem necessary.' I believe that answers your question." A clear statement, not intended to be a question.
"I'm not a-" she starts to say in a near panic.
"I don't have a great deal of time on my hands, maybe I would be tempted to believe you if less than half the scanning equipment going into that room didn't suggest otherwise... No comment? Thatís very good; seeing how your energy field is matured I assume you have known about your condition for a very long time, now if you do as instructed you will be granted some measure of freedom; so long as you don't cross paths with this agency ever again. We'll let you go back to your life of crime, and I would like you to briefly consider the fact that only four of your kind has ever been offered this freedom from us. Do you have any questions?"
"Yeah, why me?"
Seattle, the night has fallen: A drug dealer waits faithfully on his corner, working steadily to be able to buy his next hit of a new drug called Meta. He is currently crawling picking up change someone dropped. The memory of his last hit is burned into his mind; he had to steal a man's gold plated teeth to afford that.
"Got any of the new stuff?" a stranger asks.
The drug dealer looks him up and down. Pale skin, un-kept brown hair; he is dressed in a gray suit that might have once been black. The thing that stands out is his eyes; they are more faded than his suit, where there should be color there is just emptiness.
"You a cop?" the drug dealer replies slowly with pain from a bad headache.
"No, but I would like to know where you get your diluted Meta?" says the stranger.
"How do you know about that?" a flash of pain goes through his brain almost enough to make him fall.
"Everything about you makes it blatant... Now if you tell me what I want to know I'll give you something better than Meta." He kneels down as if to look the drug dealer in the eyes, but doesn't actually make eye contact; he just points his face in the right direction while his eyes' point forward not focusing on anything.
"B-b-better?" he asks as another rush of pain takes him travels down his spine. "What are you doing to me?"
"Tell me now and the pain will end!" the man shouts in a strangely comforting way.
"I-I just got a new source for it, the last one stopped turning up, the new one l-lives in this apartment building behind me, room three-thirty-four... I've told you what you want, now make it end!"
A wide smile goes across the strangers face, "It's not me that causes the pain..." he starts while pointing his head over to the broken front door of the building, "You took two different kinds of Meta before the first one cleared your system, you should be dead in a few hours." He walks carelessly into the building.
"But m-my reward?" says the drug dealer as he tries crawling after the strange man. He turns to the ground feeling it begin to melt unnaturally under his hands.
The stranger's name is Reaver; he is a vampire like mutant with limited telepathic abilities residing in his sight. His primary power is the draining of life's essence from living beings. However his secondary power is in many ways more useful, through his dead eyes he can see emotional traces clinging to all things.
By the time he reaches the third floor, he hates the building he's in: it was once a nice place, but it's been many years since any real happiness lived inside its walls. The door to the room he's looking for has been kicked open; there's a man sitting on a recliner with a phone in one hand, he is in a state of frozen shock, he didn't even have time to drop the phone before being killed.
Reaver puts an ear to the phone to hear a woman on the other end faking an orgasm; obviously a phone sex hotline. He doesn't bother hanging up the phone, he walks through the apartment touching nothing as if doing so would somehow disturb the mess left behind by whom ever tore it apart in search of drugs. For Reaver the need to do that is meaningless, a brief flash of people searching doesn't outweigh that of a person living there for the last four months.
He lifts a chair off the ground and slides it over to one wall in the exact same manner of the previous owner. He lifts part of the ceiling and reaches for a small leather bag; he opens it immediately to find a mere half vile of screaming anguish. Happy to have his drug he drops a sleeping pill inside it then closes it again seeing a wave of fear coming up through the floors like smoke.
When the fire alarms start to go off he just ignores it all and looks through the room any phone numbers written down. He finds a spot on the carpet that's been lifted frequently, upon lifting it he finds the emotional traces of what ever was there to be burning and fading from his sight into pure darkness. As he's about to leave the fire pores into the front of the apartment, he ducks out to see the walls being pursed of emotional traces in the unmistakable pattern of being burnt. His breathing picks up as he goes through stolen energies to remain unaffected by the smoke.
The drug dealer from the street is glorified by the destruction he is now able to cause, not even realizing that all his skin has been burnt off, a cruel smile goes across his disgusting face as he sees Reaver and the vile of Meta being slid into a jacket packet. However, all Reaver sees in a diseased animal with no past, the fire burns off the drug dealers emotional traces almost as fast as they leak out in his blood.
Reaver understands what has happened: Meta has ability to trigger dormant mutant genes, in most cases they would have remained inactive for the rest of the personís life, just waiting to be passed down to the next generation where the child's body might be able to handle the changes that take place. Reaver is addicted to Meta himself, but his reasons for taking it is far from the normal ones.
No words are exchanged. Reaver jumps across the room kicking the man flat in the chest knocking him back into the hallway. The man lets out a garbled scream and runs back into the room straight at Reaver, with blood running over his oddly intact eyes he is barely able to see. Reaver kicks his legs out acting with skill instead of force; the brief contact makes one of his pant legs catch fire. The fire coming off the man quickly spreads across the floor; Reaver dives for the window and rolls over part of the floor quickly to come up crashing himself through the window not caring about the broken class digging in.
He ducks as a rush of fire goes past him from the back draft. He then starts desperately climbing down the fire escape only to feel a couple drops of flaming liquid hit his face as he circles to get to the next flight of stairs, his face burns from the heat as he looks up. Waves of heat rain down, the fire escape burns Reaver's hands from touching it, Reaver's only response is to dive off towards a moving car putting his arms up in the air to let the wind deal with his burning jacket. His jacket is pulled off by the wind as planned, and he crashes into the back of the old car causing the roof of it to dent inward while the back windshield cracks beyond repair.
Reaver's eyes remain open; he's in too much pain to actually close them. Without focusing he sees the darkness left by the fire finish taking the building he escaped from, and the animal on the fire escape is still there even if the can't see the bastard. Instead of trying to run he merely waves a hand smiling at the fire powered mutant above. The fire escape comes out from the side of the building, it falls over with great speed, the driver of the car Reaver is on top of slams his foot on the gas peddle to avoid being crushed by the melting fire escape. A small explosion happens when the mutant collides with the ground.
Reaver pulls the vile out of his pocket finding it lightly cracked. Meta drips out on his hands; he opens it and takes it in one small gulp then licks his hands to get the rest off just before he fades into a trance caused by the drug. By the time the paramedics arrive, all that is left of the other mutant is ash.
Australia, a snake quickly slithers along the ground only to change course when it feels something unusual coming from beside a power line. A burst of light from an electrical wave appears for a brief second, it disappear as fast as it came leaving a man behind, his name is Archon. Currently in his late thirties, he runs his fingers through his dusty blond hair to straighten it while looking across the street to see the ruins of a nightclub.
Police stand posted at the ends of the block keeping people away while they wait for investigators from the U.N., Archon looks at the ground to see broken glass from the windows, bits of blood are mixed in with them. Archon doesn't bother pondering how it was thrown over thirty feet; he just crosses the street waving a fake U.N. badge. People shout questions in the local language, but even if he was interested in what they have to say, he's grown tired of English. He steps over chalk markings on the ground in the shape of two bodies. The doors to go inside are shattered along with their frames. He steps through smelling countless victims, the walls covered in dry blood. He notices an area of floor without any bodies; a slight circular indent is in the center combined by cracks going out in all directions from it. This is where it happened he thinks while bending down to look finding not a single drop of blood in a five-foot radius.
A rush of wind comes in as a high-speed helicopter slows down to land outside. A very short time later two armored enforcers step in pointing over sized rifles, Archon holds up the same badge he used outside making them walk past him without so much as a whisper. A young Japanese woman wearing some type of spandex uniform littered with equipment hanging from different parts of it steps in, a light helmet with tinted glass coming down over her eyes is probably the only real piece of protection on her.
"Have we met before?" She says in clear as day English... English, as tiring as it is to him he answers in kind.
"These days your guess is as good as mine. I'm agent-Granger, and you are?" his voice is marked strongly by a Germanic ascent, yet it's thicker than it is when he's speaking his native dialect.
"Agent-Takami, you can call me by my codename 'Flying-Bird'. Now what are you doing at my crime scene?" Archon knows the codename to be a lie; rare mutants who can fly tend to arrive long before helicopters.
"Investigating; something you mutants are lacking at. And if you must know I vas taking a vacation near here, I figured I should lend a hand to make sure justice is done."
"Your name, the vacation, and of course wanting justice... All lies. I have no quarrel with you terrorist, but I have to know why you're really here?" she inquires. The terrorist reference could mean anything: including the truth.
"The same reason you are 'Jade'," he says her real codename, as if they had met a dozen times before. "A flash of energy vas detected by some satellites," he points one finger in the air "it's an exact match to one that hasn't been seen in eleven years. If it really belongs to him, than both our causes are in jeopardy."
"I'm sure you know your history Mr. Granger, but I'm here because a lot of people are dead, not because of the mutant energy signature associated with it. Now give me one reason not to bring you in for questioning?"
"You've been lied to; it's no mutant you're going after. It's something much vorse. Give a message to your bosses for me: If they dare try harvesting this, I'll kill them all if needed to put an end to the destruction." As he says the last line, his body turns into energy and sinks into the ground looking like a bolt of thunder.
Sharon Marx looks closely at her new tattoo, the exact lines and curves look almost fake, it's a knife on the inside of her left wrist, small and yet so finely done it looks unreal, the tint of color in the ink flows perfectly. She glances in the mirror and sees that her hair is now very long from what would normally have been years of growth. She notices something else wrong. She stands up and walks close to the mirror; there is scar starting on the bottom of her chin, it flows down her neck and across the top of her right breast before going under her armpit. She feels like someone else, and her muscles ache from enhancements.
She opens her mouth as if to scream but no sound comes out, as the chair falls over it doesn't make any sound from slamming into the ground. Every bit of noise is pulled inside of her, and a light reflective blur comes off her fist, which she brings forward into the mirror. Her weapon is a blade formed from hardened sound, it goes wide cutting the entire mirror in half from one side to the other at an angle, the top half of the mirror slides down to the floor, the only flaw in the cut is that it goes wide near the center. She looks at it hit the ground realizing that the mirror was made of thick metal, she's done small things with her powers, a few windows, but a steel mirror is a lot more resistant than anything else she's used her abilities on, and it didn't take any noticeable effort.
She puts on a set of clothing that was left in the room for her, and while getting dressed, she finds what must be a hundred new scars across her body. She leaves and heads straight towards the command room. The long hallway has more people walking back and forth than normal, she looks at the ground, it looks to be made of cement, and then coated in glass as some kind of double precaution. She sees a forklift being used to transport a containment tube full of a strange thick pale-blue liquid; a woman floats inside of it unaware of her surroundings. The woman looks so much like her; only the hair is short like hers was before. She's even seen videotapes of this stranger fighting, no one seems to know why they look alike, and they even have the same powers. All she is sure about is that she doesn't want to end up the same: being trapped in a space no bigger than a coffin with only dreams for company.
She looks over at the door to a meeting room; it's closed which means that a meeting is in session. It's on the far end of the passage after it turns into an open room; she walks over looking at everything for the first time being free to wonder. On one side of the room a wall is covered in large video monitors, on the largest one of them there's currently an overhead image of some town with strange red tinting covering nine blocks spreading out from one point where it's so intense nothing can be seen under it. Four other screens seem to show the same location but only the very center of it, two of them show white in two pinpoint sized spots probably the size of a person. She looks up at a clock and goes to wait directly beside the meeting room. She presses a hand against the wall beside the door as if leaning, but through it, she overhears the end of a conversation,
"...Far too risky, even with safety measures inside her-" said a British sounding voice.
"The psychic that was sent to investigate encountered Archon." Says a voice so weak that it would be hard to tell if it's from a man or a woman, "He practically told her what we're hunting. The time when he was an acceptable risk has long passed; he threatened to kill us, all we need to know is how he monitors us so tightly. Once that is done we neutralize him." A heavy breathing follows that sentence.
"I still think this is an unacceptable risk, have you all forgotten about the Harii? I think they might retaliate if we kill their leader." A male voice with an American ascent: probably the youngest of them.
"I doubt they'll be a threat if we succeed... Mr. Mallory, what are your thoughts on this?" the British voice again.
"You're wasting your time, within a month I could have a unit of humans ready to take them. If you choose to ignore my advice I have no doubt one of you will manage to let it slip that you have an infiltrator who looks like one of those freaks, and then just pray that he goes through with killing us."
"I still don't understand why Archon is so important, just because the Seer said-" even as the man inhales deeply for betraying a secret a weapon upholstered and a split second later a gunshot fills the room. For Sharon it's as if she was right next to it.
Sharon pulls away, no longer wishing to know so much about her mission. She thinks to herself; the security in the building is over rated; they still hadn't figured out all my powers. She wonders if her double has the same ability to hear through walls, and more importantly, once the mission is over will these people keep their promise and allow her to return to her normal life?
A transport moves through the city of Seattle, it is currently stopped at a red light. It could almost pass for an ambulance if not for the level of armor and gun-slots on all the windows. On the inside, it provides two-raised harness for any persons, and a decent about of medical supplies to keep them alive and drugged.
There are two men are in the front compartment, one drives while the other stays on the lookout for any signs of trouble. There's only one prisoner being transported right now; Reaver lies in the back with an oxygen mask over his face supplying him with sleeping gas, muscle relaxants are mixed into the I.V. fluid injected into his arm. He is fortunate that no one identified him as a telepath; otherwise, it would be a high security air transport carrying him. Psychics are fought over between governments; people who find out about how they're treated have a bad habit of forgetting about the existence of psychics, and normal mutants as well from time to time.
"Get away from there!" the driver shouts out the window as a very dirty homeless man starts cleaning the front window with an old rag and some blue glass cleaner.
"I'm only trying to make an honest living." The homeless man retorts getting out from in front of the vehicle, he chooses to ignore the other stopped cars. Once on the sidewalk he turns to look at the transport as it speeds forward, he lowers his hood, well kept dusty blond hair is seen. The transport comes to a sudden stop as its engine fails due to battery drain. The car behind it hits the brakes too late and collides.
The driver of the damaged car gets out, and upon seeing one of two enforcers emerge he yells, "Look at you did to my car!"
"You'll be reimbursed for the damage done to your property, just get back into your car and wait."
"I know the law, we need to trade insurance information before anything else happens, I'm not going to just let you drive off..." he stops talking when the enforcer pulls a handgun to his head. Before the enforcer can yell the man faints leaving a puddle of yellow liquid in his wake.
The light seems to dim around them, the enforcer turns around to see dark purple scales spread over a tall feminine body; her massive wings are still extended to either side blocking much of the light. A tail whips around in the background breaking the neck of the other enforcer.
One of her hands goes around his neck before he can do anything; short one finger from the human normal she lifts him off the ground with ease and throws him backwards like a rag doll. The last thing he sees before fading out is her face, with its three lines of spikes flowing backward in the place of hair; and deep reptilian eyes glowing like an animals. Her name is Hybrid; being one of the mutants who cannot blend in with humanity she has relied on strength to stay alive. Always hindered by her lack of ability to talk it's no surprise that she works for Archon who at least shows her respect.
Archon steps forward still dressed as a homeless man, he puts a hand against the back door of the transport and nods to her, and she digs her fingers into it and rips it open as if it was a tin can despite the armor. After removing Reaver from the transport, the three of them disappear in a flash of energy.