"You are interesting. Your pain threshold for one is truly...something."

"Pain is a state of mind."

For Bolivar Trask, each encounter that he had with someone from mutantkind was interesting, curious and always bringing up more questions than answers. Each one he crossed paths with were catalogued, as such. Some in similar categories, it was surprising how many seemed to relate, or be an offshoot branch of a similar power. For that, there had to be something similar to link it all together; as such, he had come up short. He couldn't find the missing link. No matter how many times he tried, no matter how many mutants he spoke to, or put through the unnecessary act of surgery, he just came up short.

Those which were like the current one interested him the most. Someone can't be so strong, without being equally as fragile. It was just depending what and where that fragility laid. As much as she was knocked out, it didn't last long. He didn't quite know what her metabolism, or resilience for sedation was, or that it existed, but he did now. And while she was awake, thrashing and screaming to begin with through her examination, she laid calm and quiet unless spoken too.

All the read outs from her were so stable, it was intriguing. She had regarded her cut open arms with a look of disgust. Considering the skin had been pulled back to inspect within, Trask was certainly surprised with how casual she was being.

Considering people who were involved within her getting obtained, he had already been alerted to her power, and the type of it. He had come across other energy based mutants, none who had woken up mid-surgery and started answering back and watching everyone's movements; but he was wanting to see if there was something linking her, and the others, together; as in: because their powers came through their hands, was there something different anatomy wise? Was their skin a different makeup? Muscle mass different to that of regular humans? So far, like everything else, Trask hadn't got to his answer. If anything, he had only just about managed to lock onto the mutant gene as it was, how or why it mutated further in many other forms was something else entirely.

He supposed really, it was no different than the life on Earth. Fundamentally everything is made of the same stuff, yet everyone, and everything, is different. Maybe, like animals, it was a defensive mechanism? Trask wouldn't be surprised, after all, the world was a dangerous place. But then, for someone to have such powers and be left unchecked and expected not to use them, was something a bit too farfetched, even for him.

He was sceptical. Always had been when it came to mutantkind. There was an ability, no pun intended there, for them to group and revolt. If that was the case, people honestly wouldn't stand a chance. Some of the mutants he had come across would easily render some of their weapons moot and pointless.

This here was the crossroads he found himself in; to protect himself and his kind, he had the abilities, and the resources to do so. But the ethical thing was: should he? Glancing up at the brightly orange haired teen, Trask just sighed. She frowned at him before licking her bottom lip in an almost bored fashion. Something about this all just wasn't adding up. Others had been inconsolable before and after, sure, before waking and finding herself here she wasn't the best. But now?

Trask pushed his stool to sit up near her eye line. "You've been through this before, haven't you?" He was a smart man. He could put two and two together and come up with four for the answer. Different variables just led to the same answer: this wasn't her first rodeo, she had been in a similar situation before. Now this was curious, not that Trask expected himself to be the forerunner of such a thing, but who were the previous surgeons? Also, did they manage to find what they were looking for? Whatever it was they were looking for, or hoping to achieve. Both were a mystery. This girl was a mystery, like most mutants, more questions than answers appearing.

She gave a small fidget, a small twinge of pain etched across her face as she clearly felt herself being stitched up. Her arms had been numbed, but Trask was really uncertain how numb she was. "You are, you all are, just one group...out of many. You do nothing new. Whatever answers you are looking for, I am under no illusion, you won't find it. Or, if you do, you won't be satisfied." She said in a heavy voice, having to pause every so often to stop herself gritting her teeth, or shouting out as the needles stitched away at her skin. Having both arms lifted for the sake of bandaging just caused her to squeeze her eyes shut tightly. Whatever drugs were in her system were truly wearing thin now, she seemed to be feeling more and more by each moment. "And, when you have exhausted all avenues, you'll get rid." She blinked and looked up at the ceiling, the bright lights above caused her to squint a little. "I am a hard person to kill. Cut up arms and hands or not." She turned her face and looked at Trask, she smiled simply. "You must hear this a lot: but I have people who will probably come looking for me."

Trask sighed, "Unwavering hope in others can often lead to a downfall."

Her smile slipped, "And if it does...then I have only myself to rely on. And that, that could be truly interesting to see." Seems interesting was his favourite word of the hour, she thought to use it too. She stared at him with hard ochre eyes, "We're at an impasse. For now."

Trask stared at her, there was something in her eyes which led him to think that she really did believe in what she was saying. But then how many others had said people were looking for them? So far he had lost count, and so far no one had appeared to get whomever out of here. Mainly because the outside world didn't know what 'here' really did. By all means, on the outside it looked like a science facility. No one knew what scientific things actually happened.

"Take her back to her cell." Trask decided then and there to try and have as minimum contact as possible. There was something rather unnerving about the blatant unblinking stare which she looked at him with. There wasn't really any fear there, lurking behind the burning amber eyes. She seemed acceptant with this, even more resolute that there was a likelihood of her dying at the end. He hadn't met someone who was ready for death, most wished to avoid, having a natural fear of the unknown, but no. Here she laid, before being wheeled away with that same blank look on her face. She wasn't afraid, and Trask didn't have to be a genius to know that it was the people who were without fear, who were often the most dangerous.

Finding herself soon within the darkened room which was hers, Valeryia looked up at the ceiling. She tilted her head, there were gouge marks on the ceiling. Her eyes followed the deep groves down the wall, most seem to be centred around the door. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled slowly, someone had been in this room before. Shutting her eyes, she didn't need to be told what happened to the previous occupant. Opening her eyes again, she looked down, the stark white bandages on her arms seemed to almost glow in the low light of the room. She tried to move a finger, only to grimace. She wasn't going to be using her hands for a while, which was relatively awkward considering.

Tilting her head she looked properly around the room, she wasn't strapped down. But that didn't mean she had the ability to walk. She felt numb still, exhausted through that which had been forced on her. She was clutching at straws, not literally considering, she didn't know if anyone was actively looking for her. Nor did she have the means right now to try and break out. Most of all she had no clue what the next day would bring. At this thought she shut her eyes, Bolivar Trask seemed a little unnerved, and surprised by her general being. Unless he was like that each time with someone. At least he had the decency to introduce himself after she woke and calmed down.

Inhaling again, Valeryia sunk into the mattress of this reasonably uncomfortable stretcher bed. "Pain is a state of mind." She concentrated on her breathing as she felt her body growing heavy, her mind was numbing and she felt herself slowly passing out again, only this time because of lingering drugs and genuinely being tired, but then who wouldn't be? This whole ordeal was tiring, and hellish.