Post by x on Nov 3, 2014 4:35:27 GMT
Charles glanced over his notes and records, leg bouncing impatiently as he waited for the arrival of their latest subject. A new mutant to add to their little test group. A woman this time, around Charles’s age, who apparently had a way with technology—if the preliminary reports were to be believed. They’d already assigned her a tag—POL-D-0000781—and the plan was to run a few basic tests before integrating her into the group. Perhaps the presence of the younger mutants would trigger a maternal instinct in the new subject and increase her inclination to cooperation.
(That hadn’t worked well with DEU-M-0000019; the man had become incredibly protective of the children but that protective instinct had manifested in violent reactions that had led to sedation and isolation. But Charles was nothing if not an optimist.)
He tracked the movements of the transport vehicle and all of the minds there in—from the young MP wondering about his six-year-old daughter to the terrified wreck of a woman who could only be his new test subject—from the moment they entered his range. His time at the facility had allowed him to strengthen his mutation and his improve his control, which had become invaluable as he’d decided to take over and run it in his own way.
The woman was who he was most interested in: she was older than him by a handful of years and had manifested in the aftermath of World War II. Either she was a late bloomer or she’d manifested earlier and never noticed it, but either way, Charles was fascinated. The implications of what he could learn from her mutation were staggering; could mutations occur at any time in one’s life? Or was it truly only during adolescence? Not to mention the fact that his superiors were starting to drop hints about breeding programs again; Charles had had to nip that in the bud more times than he bothered to count, even if he was just as curious to see how mutations were passed on—if they were at all.
With a deep breath, Charles put his pen down and rubbed his eyes a bit as he felt the escort and his new subject approaching his office. He had strict orders that every new subject be brought to him immediately upon arrival; it made it easier for him to ascertain just how much security was needed and he could create a better plan of integration into the main group.
“Dr. Xavier? The new subject is here, sir.”
“Thank you very much,” he replied, sending a small suggestion for the MP to bugger off. “Let her in.”
(That hadn’t worked well with DEU-M-0000019; the man had become incredibly protective of the children but that protective instinct had manifested in violent reactions that had led to sedation and isolation. But Charles was nothing if not an optimist.)
He tracked the movements of the transport vehicle and all of the minds there in—from the young MP wondering about his six-year-old daughter to the terrified wreck of a woman who could only be his new test subject—from the moment they entered his range. His time at the facility had allowed him to strengthen his mutation and his improve his control, which had become invaluable as he’d decided to take over and run it in his own way.
The woman was who he was most interested in: she was older than him by a handful of years and had manifested in the aftermath of World War II. Either she was a late bloomer or she’d manifested earlier and never noticed it, but either way, Charles was fascinated. The implications of what he could learn from her mutation were staggering; could mutations occur at any time in one’s life? Or was it truly only during adolescence? Not to mention the fact that his superiors were starting to drop hints about breeding programs again; Charles had had to nip that in the bud more times than he bothered to count, even if he was just as curious to see how mutations were passed on—if they were at all.
With a deep breath, Charles put his pen down and rubbed his eyes a bit as he felt the escort and his new subject approaching his office. He had strict orders that every new subject be brought to him immediately upon arrival; it made it easier for him to ascertain just how much security was needed and he could create a better plan of integration into the main group.
“Dr. Xavier? The new subject is here, sir.”
“Thank you very much,” he replied, sending a small suggestion for the MP to bugger off. “Let her in.”