[NSW-Fic] United We Stand - Divided We Fall

[Grace]

Alright, so I'll be the first to admit that the title is rather cheesy. However, I don't believe the story is. Technically, I suppose this could be considered an X-Men fanfic. On the other hand, as it won't involve more than a brief appearance of any of the X-Men, it could also be considered original fiction... especially if I alter names. We'll see how it goes. But first, here's the prologue.

 

 

Prologue

One year ago...

 

“Absolutely not,” Michael King snapped irritably, closing the folder before him with a sharp snap. “I will not fund something as crudely planned as this.”

 

“As I said before, this is only a preliminary plan,” John Taylor calmly answered. “We’ll want to work with you to come up with something a bit more... acceptable.”

 

The young billionaire shook his head slowly. “Mr. Taylor,” he said, “you are suggesting the capture and scientific experimentation on living beings... sentient beings. I cannot condone that.”

 

“I understand that, sir,” Taylor replied patiently. “But that was an error in the plans. We never intended to take mutants by force. Our intent is to get volunteers.”

 

“Who would volunteer for this... torture?” King wondered, appalled at the thought. Taylor smiled.

 

“It’s not torture,” he said. “Anything we do to them won’t hurt. And they’ll have plenty of room to test their... abilities, to see what they are capable of.”

 

I still don’t like the idea,” King murmured. Taylor nodded. “You can meet some of the volunteers, if you’d like.”

 

King glared. “You’ve already brought up volunteers?”

 

Taylor laughed. “Come on, Mike. After how long we’ve been friends, did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for something I knew you’d eventually agree to?”

 

“I still don’t like it, Jack,” King stalled. Taylor smiled and turned.

 

“Dom, you can come in now,” he said. Turning to King, he said, “Mike, I’d like you to meet the woman who’s been helping me come up with this testing facility, Krista Morrey, the Dominant.”

 

The woman who entered Michael King’s office could not have been more than twenty years old. Her near-black hair was tied back from her face in an efficiently neat ponytail, which fell to the top of her spine; her clear, pale blue eyes radiated confidence, if not condescension as if everyone in the room, even her self-proclaimed ‘co-conspirator’ were beneath her.

 

“Ms. Morrey,” King addressed her, standing to shake her hand. She stared at him for a moment without saying a word. Then, with a dismissive gesture toward his outstretched hand, she spoke.

 

“You will call me Dom,” she commanded in a strangely dual-toned voice. The higher of the two voices was her own and the deeper was mentally suggestive, forcing her target’s mind to agree. “And you will take your seat.”

 

“Of course, Dom,” King responded, taking his seat without again offering his hand for Dom to shake. She shifted, moving herself to stand behind Taylor’s chair. Suddenly, King blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it.

 

“Is that how you’ll get volunteers?” he demanded. “You’ll make them volunteer?”

 

Dom grinned spoke without the underlying suggestive tone. “No, not at all. That was just a show of my gift. In addition to participating in the creation of the test plan, I will be tested by it. I am of the opinion that people will not begin to accept us until they understand us.”

 

“I still don’t know about this...” King hesitated. Taylor rolled his eyes.

 

“You have no reasons to be uncomfortable with the decision, Mike,” he complained. “Just drop the money. From that point on, you’ll have limited or no involvement unless you want it.”

 

“I don’t want to finance it,” King answered. “The idea still doesn’t sit right with me.”

 

Dom shifted to where she could see Taylor’s eyes. He looked up at her and then nodded. Satisfied, she turned. King barely had a chance to gasp in alarm before Dom had him fixed in her unwavering gaze.

 

“Your doubts are forgotten. You are in full support of our project.”

 

At first, King looked as if he were trying to resist the influence of Dom’s second voice, but when she repeated her words, he collapsed backward into his chair.

 

“My doubts are forgotten,” he mumbled. “I am in full support of your project.”

 

Krista Morrey smiled, satisfied. The Dominant had won again.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Four weeks later...

 

 

The facility’s construction was well underway. Scientists oversaw the design and construction of special rooms in which testing would take place. As the facility slowly grew, so did the list of volunteers. Some were persuaded by money, others by the hope of freedom from their ‘curse’. Still others had to be introduced to the Dominant. Soon, they had a volunteer group of nearly thirty people. And the facility’s construction was completed with their aid.

 

For another three months, the facility, dubbed MTC, the Mutant Test Center operated as planned. But then, disaster struck; an explosion of atomic proportions obliterated the facility. John Taylor was the only survivor, as he had not been in the facility, but approaching it from a distance. In a private press conference, he gave a brief speech, but would take no questions.

 

In the speech, he suggested the explosion was caused by one mutant’s ability to generate sun-like heat and energy. This extreme heat could have interacted negatively with some chemicals the facility had for other tests they were running. Michael King, the project’s financier made himself entirely unavailable for comments, and it was speculated that he might have had something to do with the disaster. However, the FBI quickly determined he had nothing to do with it.

 

A week after the accident, Taylor visited King’s home. He was the first to be allowed entrance since the accident occurred, but he did not receive a warm welcome.

 

“You tricked me!” King spat. “You and your little mind-bending friend. You both knew full well something like this could happen, but you kept it from me... had me funding a disaster waiting to happen.”

 

“Don’t be unreasonable, Mike,” Taylor sighed. “No one saw this coming, least of all, me.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” King countered. “Something tells me this is exactly what you wanted... you planned it. Why else would your ‘certain chemicals’ have been needed so near the testing of... what did you call her?”

 

“Nova,” Taylor answered. “And the chemicals were supposed to have been taken out of that test chamber before Nova entered. Scientist error, I’m afraid.”

 

“You’re being far too logical for a man whose brainchild exploded in his face,” King growled. His accusation hit a nerve.

 

“Do you think for a second this hasn’t affected me emotionally?” he hissed. “Krista was in there too, Mr. King. Lost in the explosion. Understand what I’ve gone through and open your eyes to see that the only way I can keep my composure before the press is by forgetting... everything.”

 

“Maybe that’s your mistake,” King muttered. “You’re so cold that you can forget everything. Maybe that’s why I wouldn’t put it past you to have done this on purpose... regardless of your ‘relationship’ with Dom.”

 

“You dare accuse me?” Taylor raged.

 

“Yes, I do!” King shot back. “And I ask you politely now to leave my house at once. And if you do not do so under your own power, you shall find yourself staring at the front door from the outside in a matter of seconds!”

 

Abruptly, John Taylor shut his mouth, spun on one heel, and strode out of the house. The two men, once friends, would not see one another again for nearly a year.

[JoeDoe 2.0]

I liked the title and story.

[JasraLantill]

Great start, Grace! I like how you introduced your characters (especially the Dom), set the background, and then... pow! Disaster strikes! I like it so far. Write more!

[Grace]

Thanks for the positive reviews!

 

Whoa, long chapter! Read away

 

 

Chapter I

 

 

For the greater portion of a year, Michael King would not even visit the site of the demolished Mutant Test Center. But after eleven months, he determined it was time to face one of his greatest mistakes. To his astonishment, the location was nothing at all like the burnt wasteland he’d seen on the news eleven months ago; another company had bought out the land and built low-rise apartment buildings there. His astonishment turned to suspicion when he discovered the apartment complex was called the ‘Taylor Low-Rise Apartment Complex’. Suddenly, a man who had been determined he would never see John Taylor again felt an overpowering urge to confront the man.

 

“You lied to me!” King spat as John Taylor answered the door of his home. Taylor sighed and held the door open.

 

“Are you going to come in or are you intending to rant and rave at me from my front porch?” King entered and Taylor closed the door behind him. “It’s been a while, Mike. What can I do for you?”

 

“You can start by telling me where the mutants are!” King snapped. “And what the hell you’re doing with them.”

 

“Did you hit your head?” Taylor shot back. “They’re dead, or didn’t you catch the recurring news this past year?”

 

”Then why would you buy the very same land from my company less than a month later?” King shot back. “I’m not a mindless money-handler, John. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re still withdrawing money from the joint account I created. The greatest withdrawal was two weeks after the... incident. You bought the land and built your apartments.”

 

“A decent monument for those past, I thought,” Taylor remarked indignantly. “Celebrate the lives of those killed by giving others a place to live.”

 

“And just how many renters do you have?” King retorted. “Last I checked, yesterday, you had three! Three measly renters in a complex that could house a hundred and twenty families.”

 

“There are other apartments filled,” Taylor growled. King laughed.

 

“Oh, I know,” he answered. “But they’re filled with your employees for only God knows what. Well, actually, now I’ve a pretty good idea of what they’re there for too. None of your mutants are dead. The incident with Nova... what’s her real name, by the way?”

 

“Her name was Miranda Mitchell,” Taylor corrected.

 

“The incident with Miranda Mitchell,” King continued, “was not an accident. It was a carefully planned event. Given her powers, Nova would not have been fried in an explosion, chemical or otherwise. Don’t give me that look, John. I’ve done my research... or rather, looked over yours. Nova releases so much heat, such intense heat, anything would be destroyed before it got too close. And as for your others... well, you had Psych, Jordan Elliott, isn’t it?”

 

“Go on,” Taylor urged softly, falling startlingly silent. King didn’t need any further urging.

 

“Psych has the dual abilities of telekinesis and telepathy,” he reminded his old friend. “It would have been easy for her to erect a telekinetic barrier, sealing everyone else in the facility off from the damage Nova was about to cause. Then, you moved underground... and built your apartments up top.”

 

“Fair enough,” Taylor agreed. King was taken aback.

 

“You mean my speculations are accurate?” he gasped. Taylor nodded.

 

“Right down to how Nova and Psych used their powers,” he answered. “However, you still don’t know the full story.”

 

“I should like to hear it,” King snapped. “Especially since it’s still my money financing whatever it is you’ve shifted into doing to these people.”

 

“They are still volunteers,” Taylor answered. “Well paid volunteers at that, thanks to you. Mike, eleven months ago, the Mutant Test Center was still erect, but so was terrible opposition and adamant support on the streets.”

 

“I don’t get your meaning,” King interrupted.

 

“As you may remember, there was a very strong fence that surrounded the grounds of the facility,” Taylor said. “Just outside the fence, crowds gathered. Mutated humans, non-mutants, some in support of the project, some against it. We had a break in or two. It was getting too dangerous. So we did what we thought was best... took the public’s eye off of what we were doing, and forced them to focus on a tragedy. Such things give the community and the country, both humans and mutants something to come together over.”

 

“I want to see the new facility,” King insisted. Taylor raised an inquiring eyebrow and King explained, “If I’m still financing it, I want to know what goes on.”

 

Taylor grinned. “Very well. I’ll take you over there right away.”

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Jordan Elliott was barely conscious when a grating buzz echoed through the small chamber in which she was presently attempting to sleep. Wincing ever so slightly, she opened a single hazel eye and clenched her fist in the general direction of the tiny speaker from which the offensive noise was coming. With a satisfying crunch, the speaker appeared to implode. Then, slowly, she sat up, running a hand through her shoulder-length, dark hair.

 

"Amazing!" a scientist exclaimed from where he sat, observing everything that went on within Jordan's chamber on a bank of monitors beside it. "She's a lot stronger than any of us expected."

 

"The neural inhibitor is in place?" another scientist wondered. The first nodded.

 

"In place and active," he agreed. He flipped the switch on a tiny microphone. "Ms. Elliott, would you mind if we turn your inhibitor up a little?"

 

Jordan glared up at one of the cameras. "Why do you ask when you'll just do it anyway?"

 

"Courtesy, I suppose," the scientist answered. He turned a small dial up a couple of notches and watched as Jordan cringed and fell to her knees. Then, he half turned as John Taylor approached, Michael King in tow.

 

"This is one of the testing chambers," Taylor was explaining. "This one is specifically for Jordan Elliott, Psych."

 

"That's her, then?" King inquired, frowning a little as he observed that Jordan appeared to be in pain. "What's happening in there?"

 

"We're testing the strength of her power," the scientist answered. "That thin band you see around her neck is a neural inhibitor."

 

"That doesn't sound painless," King remarked to Taylor.

 

"It isn't," Taylor replied. "However, the pain dies off after a few seconds. With Psych, we're up to inhibitor level six. At one, she still had full access to her power. At two, it wasn't much weakened. At four, she could still cause serious damage. We'll see what happens at six..."

 

"She's stabilizing, Mr. Taylor," the scientist reported. Inside the chamber, Jordan breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the small cot behind her. "According to the readings, her telepathy is almost fully suppressed. Class six telepath."

 

"Not a six for telekinesis, though?" Taylor inquired. The scientist shook his head.

 

"Not quite," he answered, gesturing to a computer screen. "See? She'll be at least an eight for teke powers."

 

Get out... here comes... The chamber seemed to shake and a couple of the cameras blinked to static. Damn it!

 

Michael King frowned and stared at one of the functioning monitors. What was that? he asked himself. Within the chamber, the girl they called Psych almost seemed to hear him. She peered into one of the cameras. Then, deep within his mind, Michael heard a reply.

 

Who is that? her voice asked him. Michael grinned. It seemed Psych was just a little stronger than Taylor and his scientists supposed.

 

My name is Michael King, he answered. On the camera, Jordan's face screwed up in a near-insane rage.

 

"Heartless jerk!" she screamed. "Get out of my head!"

 

Startled by the hatred evident in her voice and by her insistence that he was in her head, Michael took a step back. The chamber began to rattle and Taylor nodded quickly to the scientist, who turned Jordan's inhibitor up to ten. Her screams and the rattling faded and she slumped over backward on the cot, comatose.

 

"I'm really sorry you had to see that, Mike," Taylor remarked softly. "However, it's been most beneficial. Come with me."

 

"You lied again," Michael snapped. "She's being held against her will. And she thinks I'm involved."

 

Taylor nodded. "Coming into the project, everyone was aware of who financed it."

 

"I want no part of this," Michael growled. "I said from the start that I wanted nothing to do with it if you were going to be holding people against their will."

 

"Let me show you one more," Taylor said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Without a word, Michael followed his former friend to one more chamber. To his surprise, Michael found that this one held a familiar face; Krista Morrey, the Dominant.

 

"We'll put you in here for a few minutes," Taylor said, no longer bothering to veil the hostility in his voice.

 

"No!" Michael shouted, his single voice becoming two. Taylor laughed.

 

"Now that's interesting," he commented. "You're not quite what I thought you were... you're better!"

 

With a well-placed punch, Taylor knocked Michael backward into the wall of Krista's chamber. Then, as Michael attempted to recover, he was launched backward through the door into the chamber. The door slammed shut with a bang, which startled Krista enough to open her eyes.

 

"You!" she snapped, recoiling from Michael. "What the hell are you doing here?"

 

"Observing," Michael answered shortly, rubbing his head and wondering how the confident young woman he'd met nearly a year ago could have been transformed into this quivering, fearful girl. "Or at least, I was... they seem to be past letting me do that, though."

 

Suddenly, Krista gasped. "They turned off my inhibitor..." And just like that, the confident Dominant returned. Fixing an angry glare on her face, she called on her power, saying, "I hate you. Die."

 

Feeling his heart slow in an attempt to obey the Dominant’s command, Michael grimaced and retorted, "No!" His heartbeat returned to normal and the Dominant staggered backward, startled.

 

"What did you say?" she demanded. Michael smirked.

 

"I said 'no'," he answered. "Didn't you hear me?"

 

Frustration flooded Krista's face. "I said, DIE!"

 

Though he was not entirely sure what was happening between them, Michael had an idea of it and knew exactly what to do. "And I said, NO!" he snapped. The Dominant was furious. She knew this would work.

 

"Die, die, die!" she screamed.

 

"No, no, no!" Michael shot back. With each 'no', the Dominant recoiled until she was backed fully into the corner on her cot. Finally abandoning her suggestive voice, she asked meekly, "What do you want?"

 

Michael sighed and shook his head. "Believe it or not, I think I've just become a prisoner here, too."

 

"Well, that's convenient," Krista remarked dryly. "Didn't you want to observe? Now you'll get to experience first-hand what they do to us."

 

"Right..." Michael muttered. Suddenly, Krista leaned forward urgently.

 

"Hey," she said. "You're like CopyCat... only stronger. She takes on the powers of others. Listen carefully... if you're conscious enough when they pull you out of here, you have to feel for Tech. Her powers will get us out of here..."

 

"I don't even know what I'm doing!" Michael protested. Krista rolled her eyes.

 

"You're a mimic," she said. "You do what others do. You have to..."

 

At that moment, guards burst into the chamber, taking hold of Michael, and Krista screamed as her inhibitor was reactivated. “Find... Molly...” She managed to whisper. Then, she lost consciousness.

 

"Release me!" Michael ordered. The guards hesitated. Then, Taylor was beside him and he felt himself begin to loose consciousness as Taylor aggressively stabbed a needle in his neck.

 

"Release..." he mumbled, and then he went limp in the guards' arms. Taylor grinned.

 

"Success," he said. "Fit him with an inhibitor... we'll see how strong he is."

 

And the guards carried Michael away.

[Bee Hoon]

Very nice! An unexpected twist, though I don't see how Taylor could have taken Dom prisoner unless he's somehow immune? And Michael didn't manifest his ability up till now... Necessary, but a tad bit strange.

[Grace]

Don't worry, Beehoon, I've thought through both of those puzzlers. They'll be explained

[Grace]

Well folks, it's been a while since the last chapter, but I haven't given up yet! Hope you haven't either

 

 

 

 

Chapter II

 

 

The first thing Michael noticed as he awoke was the sharp, throbbing headache he had. With a grunt, he opened his eyes and blinked furiously against the florescent lighting of what appeared to be his very own test chamber.

 

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said to him. Forcing his body to comply in sitting up, Michael looked around the room. It seemed empty... or did it? The air seemed to shimmer in a corner by the door, giving way to the form of a woman in her mid to late twenties.

 

"Who are you?" Michael asked her.

 

"CopyCat," she answered. Gesturing to the wall behind him she added, "I was using Void's power. He's next door."

 

"So... am I in your cell or are you in mine?" Michael wondered. Then, he realized she was not wearing an inhibitor and frowned. "You're in mine."

 

CopyCat smiled sweetly. "No, you don't have one." An inhibitor faded into view around her neck. "Illusionist is my other next door neighbor."

 

Michael fell into thoughtful silence as his body tried to combat the remains of the drug in his system. Finally, he said, "Krista said I'm like you."

 

"She wasn't entirely accurate," CopyCat told him. "I'm a mimic in the most basic sense of the power. You are something more. I read about your kind back when we had more freedom here."

 

"So what am I?" Michael asked. CopyCat gave him an odd look.

 

"You mean what can you do," she corrected. "You're an empathic mimic."

 

"Which means absolutely nothing to me," Michael muttered. CopyCat grinned.

 

"You'll learn," she said. "Starting now, actually. Lesson number one. I, being a straight mimic can only use the powers of others when I'm near them. You don't have that limitation. So long as you remember what sort of feelings a person caused in you, you can use their power."

 

Michael's first response was a thoroughly puzzled look. "Um, what?"

 

CopyCat laughed at him. "Think back on your encounter with Psych." Michael frowned. He hadn't actually come face to face with her, but...

 

And now you can hear my thoughts. Michael stared at CopyCat. She grinned. Now you have it. Listen to me very carefully. They can't hear this conversation. Say something about the encounter with Psych.

 

"I didn't really get to talk much," Michael said aloud. What am I doing? "We sort of realized I was in her head and then she threw a fit."

 

You're giving them something to monitor. If we have silence between us too long, they'll become suspicious.

 

"Did it startle you?" CopyCat wondered. They want you to learn your power so they can test you. You have to pretend you haven't learned anything.

 

"A little," Michael replied. "I was more angry than startled, I think." So I'm to pretend we didn't have this conversation...

 

"Try to relive that moment," CopyCat urged. That's right.

 

Michael pretended to concentrate, trying to bring back his exact feelings during his encounter with Psych. Then, he shook his head. "It's not coming."

 

"That's alright," CopyCat offered encouragingly. "It will."

 

"So here's something I haven't quite figured," Michael said. "Why do they want me to know the full extent of my power? Aren't they afraid of what I could do? Release the other captives?"

 

"That's why I'm sure they'll never let you go near Tech," CopyCat answered. "Not after you learn what you can do."

 

Michael nodded. "Then, I guess I'll just have to..." Using Psych's telekinesis, he thrust CopyCat backward. With a startled shriek, she flew through the wall of the chamber. The wall shimmered and fell away, revealing CopyCat and a woman he could only assume was the Illusionist sprawled on the floor together, up against the wall of one of the chambers. Now, he saw how large the room was... and it was full of these boxy cells.

 

"Thought you said you could handle him," Illusionist spat, tossing CopyCat aside. CopyCat glared.

 

"You got too close," she retorted. "He sensed what you were doing."

 

"Where'd he go?" John Taylor demanded, approaching the two women. "You lost him?"

 

"No," Illusionist answered, a touch of awe in her voice. She pointed to a blank wall. "He's standing over there... using my power. I like him."

 

Scrambling to her feet, she reached for the dart gun Taylor held. With the gun in hand, she whirled, aiming it at the wall. But she held back. "He's gone again." With a growl of annoyance, she marched off down the hall, saying, "Leave this to me. I'll find him."

 

And find him, she did, but she was not quite as prepared to deal with him as she'd thought. His mind was in high overdrive, using powers almost by instinct. The dart gun flew out of her hand, through the illusion of a wall Michael had thrown up and into his hand. The wall vanished.

 

"Didn't realize what you had in captivity, did you?" he taunted. "I didn't either... but it turns out, I'm a real nightmare."

 

Holding her hands up in surrender, Illusionist backed slowly away. "I don't want trouble."

 

"Yeah, well you allied yourself with John Taylor," Michael answered. "He's trouble from the start."

 

Calling on her power, Illusionist shimmered out of sight, but Michael laughed darkly. "Did you think that would work with me?" he demanded. "Heed my command. Sleep."

 

Illusionist staggered and her illusion failed completely. Her eyes began to droop and Michael repeated his command. Tiredly, Illusionist dropped to her knees and then curled up on the floor, fast asleep. Backing away, Michael turned and headed off down a new hallway, trying to ‘feel’ for Tech, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

 

“Hello, Michael,” Taylor said softly, interrupting Michael’s thought process as he stepped into view on the opposite end of the hallway. “You’re clever and desperate. That’s why you escaped.”

 

“And what of now?” Michael wondered, taking a step back. Taylor smiled.

 

”Now?” he asked. “Now, you’re tired and fearful... and altogether too focused on me.” At that moment, guards surrounded Michael, taking him captive once more with a shot of some drug.

 

 

 

When he awoke, Michael found that he could not move. An IV was hooked to his arm and in the fog within his mind, he guessed he was connected to some sort of medication to prevent him from gaining full access to his power. The fact that he had absolutely no control over his body seemed to be a side effect.

 

“He’s awake,” Taylor observed. “Sit him up.”

 

Michael felt himself pulled roughly up from the cot he’d been on and shoved into a chair. With no control of himself, he nearly fell off the other side of the chair, but the guards held him in place. John Taylor took a chair and sat directly across from his old friend.

 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he said. “You have your mouth at your disposal. Ask away.”

 

“How young are the others?” Michael mumbled. “The ones you’re testing?”

 

“Healer is the youngest,” Taylor answered. “Fourteen years old. The eldest is... well, you actually. Thirty-one, aren’t you?”

 

Michael ignored the question. “I read something on mutants once... aren’t their powers supposed to start coming out in their preteens and a little older?”

 

“For most,” Taylor agreed. “However, you’re a mimic. An empathic one at that. Without other mutants around long enough for you to get a feeling for them, it’s no surprise your powers waited ‘till now to surface... especially when you saw what really goes on here. Increase of emotion, added stress of experiencing something new.” He chuckled. “You couldn’t help but come out.”

 

Michael strained his mind, trying to access something of his power, but it wouldn’t work. Taylor chuckled. “Oh, Michael, that wouldn’t have worked on me even if it was full strength.”

 

Frowning, Michael asked, “What?”

 

“You just tried to give me a ‘shove’,” Taylor explained. “Use Psych’s power against me. Don’t deny it. I felt the attempt.”

 

Michael strained harder, but the drug restrained him and Taylor laughed. “Now, let’s set about righting some of the mistakes in what CopyCat told you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Michael wondered.

 

“First of all, she told you how to use your power,” Taylor said. “She said you do it by recalling how you felt. But that’s not it. You feel the emotions of others. When they use their powers, you feel how they do it. Then, your genetic code is like a sponge, taking on that memory of how they do it and twisting itself to recreate the effect.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Taylor smirked.

 

“My dear old friend,” he said as if speaking to a young child. “If you do not know how to use your power to the fullest, we cannot use our inhibitors to fully suppress you.”

 

“You don’t fully suppress the others,” Michael pointed out. Taylor shook his head.

 

“We don’t,” he agreed. “But with them, the chambers we hold them in are adequate to keep them contained. With you, that would not be the case. You see, my old friend, you are our greatest threat.”

 

“Because I won’t let you keep this up,” Michael pressed. “You can do whatever you want to me, but I will stop you.”

 

“I’d love to see you try,” Taylor challenged. With a nod, he signaled the guards to carry Michael, char and IV away.

[Bee Hoon]

Nice stuff as usual! Hehe, that is a good explanation:) The grammar, spelling etc and perfect as far as I can see, which is great:) Taunting when he's such dire straits doesn't seem to be a smart thing to do, but boys will be boys, I suppose...

[Grace]

Yes, indeed they will

 

I'm working on the next chapter, in which you will discover just how bad it would be to taunt Mr. Michael King