We Live Forever

Chapter 28: Cigarettes and Snowfall

Crimson's POV:

When I wake up the lights are back on. Hank's still asleep and now so is Charles. My complete and utter boredom makes me consider waking one of them up to talk, but I think we all need the rest right now. 

One thing no one tells you about being held captive is how absolutely mind-numbingly boring it is. Granted, I'd take sitting here trying to spot cameras on these bland ass walls over what happens when things get exciting. 

I'm starting to think one of these soldiers or Trask himself can read minds because they always know the exact wrong time to walk inside. Right now. That moment is right now. 

A soldier approaches me and undoes my chains. Soon his fingers wrap around my bicep and I'm shocked by how freezing cold they are. His hand has got to be numb right now, there's no way that's normal.

As he pulls me down a hallway I'm met with something else that isn't normal. He smells like smoke. I've been around Logan enough to know what cheap cigarettes smell like and this is it. The floor is especially cold today and it's wet. Every once in a while there's a faint crunching sound. 

It's snowy outside. We're in the snow. It is still December last I heard, so snow doesn't narrow things down as much as I'd like. At least I'm comforted by the knowledge that I'm not in Florida.

My new favorite soldier brings me to the familiar interrogation room and this time Trask has already taken control and is sitting down at the table. He looks excited to see me, which is not a fun thought.

I sit down and Trask wastes no time getting started.

"It's wonderful to see you again Ms. McCoy. I hope you realized by now that I really only want what's best."

"What's best for who exactly?"

"Just like your husband, I'm a man of science. I want what is best for the future"

"Who are you to decide what's best for the future, Bolivar?"

"That, dear, is the million-dollar question. Unfortunately, I have no such answer for you. I do, however, have a few questions for you."

Trask set a folder on the table and slowly laid out a series of many, many photos. All of the photos were of me. Some of them were from like a decade ago or were taken in seemingly private places. This guy is a total creep. He's been watching me for years. 

"Ms. McCoy I think what draws me to you. I want you to tell me everything."

"You want me to tell you everything, I want to not be held captive. We don't always get what we want."

"Why are you so opposed to helping me progress our world?"

I pointed to one of the photos on the table.

"That's a picture of me in the shower after a fight, back when I was stuck with Midas. I don't help perverts Bolivar and I certainly don't work with guys with pornstaches."

"I needed to be detailed in my research. The more I know about you the easier is it for me to know what tests to perform on you."

I actually laughed at him.

"Tests? What exactly were you testing when you had them shoot me three times?"

Trask maintained his composure and replied calmly:

"How long it takes you to heal from a gunshot wound."

"So you're a "man of science", but you've never heard of anesthesiology? You've could have performed your tests while I was unconscious and wouldn't have felt the pain."

"It could have affected your results. It could speed the healing process up or slow it down tremendously."

"And why didn't you test that first? There are more humane ways to get the answers you seek Bolivar!"

"Morals aren't everything, sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to secure the brightest future for humanity. Now answer my question. How can you heal like this?"

I sighed and looked at Trask like he was a little kid asking me if Santa was real

"I'm a mutant, it's my mutation."

Bolivar didn't seem very amused. He looked in the eyes for probably the first time and stared me down. 

"I'm aware that your mutation ceased to work for some time and now it is working again, but not the same as it did before. Would you like to explain that to me?"

Oh shit.

"I was sick sir."

I heard something loud in the distance, but it was hard to make out what it was. 

"Mutants with healing abilities don't get sick. Not unless they are actively gaining or losing their abilities."

I tried to think of another excuse, but Trask didn't stop.

"I understand that your husband has a PH.D. in biophysics-"

The door to the room burst open and a soldier came rushing in panting and sweaty. Trask looked like he was about to explode.

"How dare you-"

"Sir we have a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

"Code Blue sir."

"Damn it. See to it that Ms. McCoy is kept both here and safe."

"Sir yes sir."

Trask quickly got up and left the room leaving me with the lone soldier. 

The sound of many, many gunshots echoed through the complex along with screams. 

I looked at the soldier, but he refused to meet my gaze. He wouldn't even look at me.

Author's Note:

Trask knows too damn much. 

Also, wtf is a code blue?

You'll just have to stick around to find out.