Bellwether | By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General Views: 4549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
Bellwether Chapter Nine
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… It’s too hot to
dance. Moof. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and
Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: So… yeah.
Light… Morgan: Sorry! I missed
you the other day! *sad * Readers/Reviewers: This week I’ll be taking a day or
two off to work on some other projects but I’ll be updating regularly other
than that! Thanks for reading and reviewing as you can!
“Oh,
God, my head absolutely aches!” Moira MacTaggert
pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and inhaled shakily. “It feels like my brain is going to leak out
me bleedin’ ears!”
She sank down heavily into her desk chair, a padded number with wheels
that seemed to have a mind of their own most days, sending her rolling whenever
she so much as shifted her weight.
Venting a harsh breath, she glanced at her “research assistant” and
frowned. “You don’t have to wait up, you
know.”
Juggernaut
shrugged his massive shoulders and offered a smile of graveyard teeth. “I’m not tired.”
Moira
muttered something under her breath regarding his parentage and bent back over
her keyboard, tapping in line after line of code, making the simulated DNA
strands hovering in mid-air over the holographic projector start a slow dance
to unheard music. They twined, they
split, they recombined and all the while her fingers kept moving. “Did you find the cause of the earlier alarm?”
“Mouse
chewed through some wires,” he replied flatly, inviting no further
comment. In truth, he had not been able
to find anything. No one had. They had searched the place high and low,
finding not even an errant speck of dust in the facility. Moira had never emerged from the lab.
The
geneticist barely flicked a lash at this explanation, not letting her annoyance
show. Juggernaut had been foisted on her
by Black Tom, calling in an old marker, one so old she had considered it
forgotten. The man did not let her so
much as breathe without demanding to know why, Moira thought irritably. He was not so much a research assistant as a
spy, she added to herself, making the DNA strands pause mid-twirl. “How is Theresa? Is she feeling better?” She did not believe
for one moment that the girl was ill nor did she believe that she came to Muir Island
under her own power or will, as Juggernaut had claimed. “And is the number six camera on the hangar
doors fixed?”
Juggernaut
shrugged again. “Seems
fine.” He did not clarify which
he meant. The hangar door camera was
hanging loosely by several wires, he knew for a fact as he had made it do
so. Moira could not climb up to the top
of the rafters to inspect the security device herself but she had ordered one
of the few trusted workers on Muir
Island to check for
her. Juggernaut made a mental note to
check on the man before the night was over, just to make sure he was still
breathing. “Where’s Tom at?”
“I have no
clue,” Moira sighed, her fingers hovering, indecisive, over the keyboard. “Juggernaut, would you be a dear and fetch me
the first aid kit? I’ve got some painkillers in there and I desperately need
one for this headache…” She smiled
sweetly at him, sincerely doubting such things would work on him. No feminine wiles to get past his defenses,
she thought with a trace of annoyance.
Not that her wiles were particularly feminine, came the amendment from
some inner voice she had grown to loathe.
She held her smile until the large man grunted his assent and lumbered
towards the far wall where the green and white medical kit hung on it’s straps. She
stood slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and incite a reason for
him to backhand her or worse; with measured steps, she walked towards the
emergency exit for her office, a narrow door set into the paneling between
bookshelves. Press the spot, she thought
to herself, trying to keep calm, and the door slides
open. Don’t move quickly until the door
is open. Run,
hit the button, run faster. She was at
the panel, fingers uncurling from the fists she had at her sides, when
Juggernaut’s voice stopped her cold in her tracks.
“You’re out
of aspirin. Tylenol okay?”
“Um…
fine. Just wonderful.” She reached for one of the books on the shelf
and carried it back to her desk, heart hammering in her chest. She could not run while he watched. She could not use the phone, could not send a
message… She had to wait. Did the man
ever sleep, she thought bitterly.
Flipping through the pages blindly, she ran a finger along a line of
text, hoping Juggernaut did not suspect anything as he dropped the packet of
Tylenol onto the open pages. “Thank you,”
she murmured, ripping it open and dry swallowing the coated caplets. “Oh, drat… I need to run to the
bathroom. Keep an eye on this while I’m
gone, would you?” she asked in a rush, pointing to the simulation. “These pills are just making me sick, with no
water to take them!” She went as quickly as she could towards the small
interoffice bathroom, knowing Juggernaut’s eyes were on her back. The door would not shut all the way, no doubt
thanks to some machination of his, she realized. Running water covered the
sound of her swearing fluently under her breath until she regained some control
over herself. Stepping out into the main
office again, she sighed, smiling. “Now,
about these samples you found…”
“What about
them?” Juggernaut straightened, scowl lines marring his already stony
face. “They’re all good.”
“I know! I
was just wondering what the labels said. I can’t read your handwriting.” She had a sick feeling that none of the
samples had been given voluntarily. The
labels were slapdash and the vials had varying levels of blood, as if they had
been procured hastily by someone who did not know how to work a hypodermic
needle. A few vials held simple strips
of treated paper with a few spots of blood on them, a simple DNA test her lab
had developed. These, she felt, had been
the hardest to procure. These were just
a check, to see if there was truly an errant mutant gene in the subjects.
“Just test
it,” Juggernaut snarled, forgetting for a moment his alleged ruse as
assistant. “Names don’t matter. Just the DNA.”
Moira
nodded slowly, sinking back down into her chair. “Right. They’re not people. They’re blood.”
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