January 12th, 2109

Carter strode through the lobby with purpose, but without his signature sass. He was stiff. Rigid, even. And the mood clenched his jaw so tight that he could hear his teeth grind. Dull eyes studied the files within a vanilla folder. On the tab was written a single name: Nellie King.

It listed all of her information, both personal and professional, alongside a section dedicated to Observational Leverage. It was Pure Blood protocol to gather far beyond the obvious about their targets; days upon weeks of night shifts in a Buick parked outside mutant hovels, all for the sake of pinning down their weaknesses. The true knife to the gut. Did the mutant share familial ties with another? Romantic? Were the setbacks of overexerting its abilities visible? Measured? Predictable? Anything and everything underneath the sun was recorded for optimal elimination.

Carter had managed to fill the space in under an hour.

No one in the Pure Bloods knew Nellie better than him. Loved her more than he did.

But now none of that mattered; his orders from Creed were as clear as day and he'd much rather dismember his own leg before letting a mutant run free.

He forgot how to forgive a long time ago.

"Ah, Car. Just the queen I'm looking for." The new voice pulled Carter from his musings, but not his gaze from Nellie's files. He only allowed himself to slow to a stop and avoid bumping into whoever was distracting him. A disgruntled sigh unraveled, but not from his lips. "Jesus, at least look at me when we're talking..."

Carter snapped the folder shut.

"Make it quick, Sheryl. I've got shit to do."

Sheryl grimaced at the harshness of his tone, but sympathy mellowed out her face quickly after. A cup of coffee warmed her hands, uncomfortably so, but her fingers still tightened around it. "Listen, your dark cloud is hanging over everyone today--which I get." She tagged it on hastily at the sight of Carter's brow furrowing. The last thing she needed was to land a spot on his Shit List. "But we don't have to put in documentation on the Conference until the end of this week."

"Don't worry, honty. I got the memo. I know my schedule."

"We're just worried about you," Sheryl admitted. Her usual bouts of dry sarcasm were absent, switched out for concern and caution. "You usually breeze through twenty different sex jokes by lunch. We haven't heard you crack one today."

Carter didn't fight the roll of his eyes. He shifted weight to one hip and rested a hand on it, deadpanning at his coworker. "Hm. Sure as hell wonder why." The bitterness and salt on his tongue were heavy.

"We all liked Nellie. She was a hard worker and, well, nice. If not a bit too nervous at times." Something about Sheryl using liked rather than like made the man's eye twitch. She failed to notice, though, and offered lightly, "Let us take your mind off her. At least for tonight. A few of us are hitting Mark's after our shift, drowning our embarrassment in vodka, fireballs and pretty pink drinks. Come on; I know those're your favorite." However, to her dismay, Carter was slipping around her before she even finished.

"I'll pass, honty--"

A hand snagged him by the bicep.

"Car. Seriously. Just," Sheryl almost choked on the agitation radiating from him, "Don't let this swallow you up. Shit didn't end well last time you did." When Carter looked back at her, she could've sworn a chunk of her gut was scooped out with a wooden spoon and supplanted by an icy coil. There was no life to be found in his eyes, his demeanor as a whole, and something about the absence of his jubilance shot shivers down her spine.

Gently, he pulled himself free and reached out to fix a stray bang on her forehead. "In our line of work, honty, we can't afford to get sloppy." He flashed a sugary sweet smile dripping of tar. "So don't throw me off my game, kay? Good talk." Tucking the folder under an arm, he ignored Sheryl's speechlessness and turned on his heel, heading for the exit. His pace proved to be faster than before, screaming of finality.

Just as the door was within reach, Sherly snapped out of her reverie and asked, "Where're you even going?"

His response just barely squeezed through the gap of his teeth. "Oops--none of your business."

Carter was gone before Sheryl could protest further.

}:{

"Do you, Carter Yamanashi..."

His Vyxen Steel peeled down the street, pedestrians racing by in his peripherals. There were far less strolling outside than before. Fear drove them inside ever since the Conference.

"Take this man, Lorenzo Vaugn--"

"Prince Vaugn, honty."

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, but cracked a smile all the same. "Take this man... Prince Vaugn to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Carter flopped onto the mattress beside him, his usually well kept locks in bedhead disarray. He beamed. "I do."

Small cafes and shops dwindled in purchase of a bridge carrying him across the highway. On the other end was the expansive parking lot of Trent City Hospital. Carter didn't need to spare a single brain cell in order to weave his way through the maze of vehicles and never-ending buildings. He'd been there far too many times to count.

"So when the real thing rolls around," Something playful glimmered in Lorenzo's charcoal eyes, "Bet twenty, no, forty that you'll faint at the altar or some shit."

A scandalized gasp. Carter slapped his shoulder. "Do not come for Queen C unless he calls for you! I'll handle it just fine." Despite everything, Lorenzo's laughter solidified Carter's smile in place. It always would.

"Darlah, baby. I brought the usual." A nurse manning the reception desk perked up at the familiar voice and she rewarded Carter with a tired yet grateful grin. It didn't quite reach the bags under her eyes.

"You're a lifesaver," she said.

"Oop, careful now." Carter double tapped the lid of his own Starbucks coffee before sliding Darlah's cup closer to her. Hers was twice as big, heavy on the creme. "Keep calling me that and people'll expect me to do your job for you." He could see a shiver course through her after pulling a sip, the heat and caffeine reawakening come clarity in her mind.

"Could you please? Just for today?" she teased.

"Sure, wait on that." Unfortunately, whatever playfulness he saved up in preparation for this conversation ran dry and his response came out more bitter than he intended. Luckily, Darlah didn't seem to mind.

"Damn. Didn't hurt to ask, I guess. Anyway, your timing's good today; he's been fairly stable, extra responsive this morning but then lulled back to his usual."

"But he's awake." Carter tried to smother the hope in his voice, but Darlah was too observant for her own good. Her visage softened.

"That he is. We had him moved to 212 yesterday, right down the hall from his last room. You can't miss it."

Carter wished his wink packed a little more glam, but he just didn't have it in him at the moment. "Thanks, honty. Stay gorgeous." His lavish loafers clacked softly as he disappeared down the corridor. True to Darlah's word, he had little trouble finding Room 212 and noticed the entrance was ajar, if only slightly. He welcomed himself inside, announcing himself with a few taps against the door before peaking a head in.

"Hello? Bad time or nah?"

"Never a bad time, Carter. Come in." Flat yet steadfast; those were the main core of the doctor's tone as he urged Carter in, then went straight back to examining his patient. He waved a tiny flashlight back and forth across their eyes, humming in satisfaction as he watched their pupils dilate and contract. Not much movement or straying, but he expected as much.

Carter seated himself in a chair next to the patient's bed and, for once, remained silent while watching the doctor at work. Baseless silence made his skin buzz and leg jitter. On off days, nail-biting as well. But there were other breeds of quiet that Carter could draw peace from and this visit just so happened to be a prime example of one.

Finally, the doctor pocketed his flashlight and discarded a pair of latex gloves into the trash bin. "Truth or lie," he asked without sparing Carter a single glance.

The Pure Blood quirked an eyebrow. "Don't know why you're still giving me a choice, Heiny. If you lie, I'll damn well notice." And yet, some weakness bubbled to the surface and he couldn't help but cave into the wonders of blissful ignorance. A sigh escaped him, his fingers caressing the back of the patient's hand. They lingered on his naked ring finger. "But my life hasn't been one hundred fab as of recently. I'll take whatever sugar coating I can get."

"It's Dr. Munez." Correcting Carter's inability to address the doctor formally came as second nature by this point. Perhaps even a form of comfort. As far as the emotionally removed Heinrich Munez was concerned, it was the only comfort he could give. That and spoon feeding Carter things he wanted--needed to hear. "In that case, Lorenzo's condition is stable as always. Not a single hiccup in his schedule since your last visit."

"Straight faced and all," Carter cooed, wiggling his fingers at the doctor in mock praise, "Anyone ever told you to join an improv club, honty? You'd kill it."

"Killing's counterintuitive to my job description."

"Not mine."

"I'm aware." Dr. Munez adjusted the incline of the patient's bed, the low whirring of the contraption borderline agitating, but not quite enough to weed a complaint from Carter. Once the patient was in proper sitting position, he snatched up his clipboard and continued dully, "Here's the truth. His motor functions are declining alongside his cognitive. Consciousness is still there, but we're expecting Lorenzo's awareness to leave soon." His gaze momentarily snapped to the patient in question, then back to Carter. "For an estimate? I'd say three to four weeks and I'm speaking generously."

"Fuck," Carter breathed. Contrary to his rule about silence, a thumb flew up to his teeth anyway, gnawing away at the nail as he battled the throbbing in his chest. Behind his ribs. He tried to slap some humor into the conversation, but he lacked the motivation and genuine emotion for it. "A-and here I thought killing wasn't your thing, Heiny. You'd think damn near four years of this would've prepared me to hear that, but..."

"No amount of time does. Just cherish however much Lorenzo has left." A rarity around Trent City Hospital. Receiving words of wisdom from Dr. Munez was the equivalent of spotting a unicorn. Any other time and Carter would've felt honored. Just not this time.

"Thanks for the enlightenment, honty." He barely got the words out around his thumb, but Dr. Munez understood. Both his response and the plea for privacy lurking behind it. The doctor nodded.

"Gladly. I'll leave you two to discuss, then." There could've been something cruel about the image of someone having a one-sided conversation with their loved one who's trapped in a vegetative state. But Carter found it to be the one thing grounding him nowadays. He failed to return a farewell nor cast Dr. Munez a glance as he left.

Silence.

All except for the steady beeping of Lorenzo's heart monitor.

}:{

"Rise and shine."

Frigid water nailed Nellie in the face.

A strained gurgle jumped out of her, then morphed into a series of coughs and sputtering. Goosebumps and trembles coated her flesh, long before she cracked an eye open to take in her surroundings.

What greeted her was grime-dusted concrete. Coal gray and cold to the touch, though it'd be impossible for Nellie to palm it since her hands were bound behind her back with metal cuffs. A fluorescent light illuminated the small space, which was nothing more than a windowless box filled with stagnant air. The lingering musk of past prisoners.

Slowly, she sat up. "What... w-what's going on?"

Nellie nearly jolted out of her skin when a smooth giggle resounded. It was a mystery in itself how she didn't notice the person seated across from her earlier. Midnight locks, full lips, heart-shaped face, but a high contrast against the alert sharpness of her gaze. One of her stilettos was unstrapped and dangling on the curve of her toe, twirling around listlessly.

Leanne cracked a smirk. Lopsided and smug, but calculative all the same. "Wouldn't you like to know," she said while sitting forward. The rickety metal chair creaked underneath her. "But I'll be asking the questions here, darling. Starting with this." Her beautiful eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

"A Pure Blood," Nellie said. She wished beyond everything that she could crank some confidence into her voice. Just an inkling of defiance. And yet, her tone buckled. Weak and pitiful, begetting the fear bubbling up within her. Who was this woman? Where was she to begin with?

"Wrong answer." Like the snapping of a branch, Leanne knocked the empty bucket aside with a swift kick, metal clanging against concrete loudly. Something hard and vicious spread across her face. "I'll give you one more chance. What. Are. You."

"I..." A wheeze coiled around Nellie's lungs like a boa constrictor. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes shifting every which way for a means of escape. Words started tumbling from her lips like vomit. "I-I swear! I swear! I'm Pure Blood! I started a few years back but I don't d-do that much! I just work behind a desk and organize files and um, sometimes help out my coworkers but I'm never ever o-out on the field--"

"Except for the conference," Leanne interrupted, clearly unimpressed. She folded her arms.

"That was my first time!"

"That's one lie already, darling." Nellie could've sworn shadows crawled across the woman's visage, though her expression didn't change. A chill rolled through the room. "Be in your best interest not to chuck anymore of those my way. I mean..." A bitter sigh. "Us mutants are just so violent and temperamental, right?"

Nellie's gut hollowed itself out and dropped through the floor all at once. Her pale skin grew a few shades paler and cold sweat trailed down the back of her neck. No quantitative or qualitative value could measure Nellie's shame as tears pricked the corner of her eyes.

"Are you... g-gonna kill me?" she whispered.

Silence.

Then movement. From Leanne's end.

She stood and snapped the chair shut, tucking it under her arm. "No. Unlike what you Pure Bloods say about us, we're not stupid savages. We see an opportunity, we take it. Hence why you're here."

When she faced Nellie again, the blonde could've sworn the miasma in her gaze had softened, if only slightly. But there was no way. Surely a figment of her imagination. Mutants were incapable of mercy, especially for someone like Nellie. Someone possessing the blood of founders who advocated for mass mutant extermination.

There was something crippling about the exhaustion behind Leanne's smile, but also hard to pinpoint. "You're our trump card, whether you like it or not."

Nellie shook her head, her vision a blurry and wet mess. "I'm no good as a hostage. P-please," her lungs tightened. The panic was coming. Rushing forth like a tsunami. "Let me go. Please!"

Leanne's brow pinched. "I never said hostage." She approached, taking her sweet time. Each clack of her heels was the equivalent of daggers prodding at Nellie's temple. She kneeled at eye level. At first, she reached toward Nellie's face, then hovered near her chin, only to retract altogether and settle for another sigh. "You're our accomplice. Our secret weapon... You either cooperate with us or go back out there, where every Pure Blood is searching high and low for you. Not to rescue, but to kill."

Nellie's head lowered. "They wouldn't."

"They will if we let you go."

"Y-you're lying."

Nellie's heartbeat roared in her ears. Wheezes scraped her throat like a diamond razor. Dry. Her mouth was so dry.

"The longer you're in denial, the longer you're stuck in this room..." A hint of plea entered Leanne's voice. "Don't make this hard on yourself."

"I-I'm not in... in deni..." She couldn't finish her sentence, let alone pull in enough oxygen to clear the spotted lights. This wasn't good--at all. Her anxiety was reaching heights never before touched. If only she could smother it with a few puffs from her-- "Inha... I need my in..."

For the first time in the interrogation, the steel melted from Leanne's face and it dropped with confusion. Concern. "I don't understand. What're you...?"

Nellie crumbled. It was only thanks to Leanne's quick reflexes that she was spared the union of her face to concrete. The hold was tentative, uncertain, but radiating an estranged warmth that was achingly comforting. And yet, the panic refused to die. The rasps squeezing from Nellie's lungs sounded like she'd been gurgling nails for years. "I-in! Inha-," Another violent gasp, "Inhaler!"

Eyes widening with realization, Leanne nodded and shot to her feet. "Wait there. Just keep calm, darling, and just..." However, she faltered when a metallic groan pierced the atmosphere. The metal cuffs around Nellie's wrist bent and stretched, then snapped apart. Leanne stepped forth and raised a cautious hand. "Nellie--"

"Get away!"

With a pained yell, both of Nellie's palms slammed into Leanne's chest and sent her rocketing back. Air and an agonized cough rushed from her lungs. Frantically grasping a shred of composure, a portal opened up on the wall seconds before her spine could shatter against concrete.

Leanne landed harshly, her body rolling a few meters before coming to a stop at Hazel's feet.

"Jesus! Leanne? The hell happened?" He looped his arms under Leanne's and helped her up, but he was shaken off immediately. Cradling her ribs and struggling to catch her breath, she brushed past him towards a table. It was small and cheap. Just a hunk of plastic a fellow mutant had snagged from the previous raid. A small handful of belongings was on it--Nellie's belongings. And sitting atop the pile was the inhaler.

"She's panicking." By some miracle, she was able to speak through the angry throbs in her chest. Just as she snagged the inhaler and set off into a staggering jog, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Hold up! You're not even gonna tell me why you came flopping in here like a dead fish?" Suddenly, Hazel's eyes iced over. "Did that Pure Blood do this to you?"

"Not now, Hazel. Talk later, handle this mess first." She yanked herself free of Hazel's clutch and jumped through the wall, appearing in the chamber once more. Nellie's pathetic cries were the first thing to strike Leanne and comparing it to a timid bolt of lightning racing down her back would've been the understatement of the century. Nellie looked so small. Her prisoner, a Pure Blood, a supposed threat to the survival of mutants, was curled into a ball like some abandoned child. A sweater that was once slightly too big seemed to swallow her whole and promised to never spit her back out again.

Instincts flared up within Leanne.

Before she could blink, the mutant was next to Nellie and resting her head in her lap. The inhaler gingerly prodded her lips, begged, pleaded, until it was finally accepted. One puff. Two puffs. Twice more.

A dull buzz fell over them, neither refusing to speak for what felt like an eternity.

This was wrong. This was so wrong in so many ways. Leanne intended to enjoy this interrogation, to savor the pain and rage of her prisoner, to deal out blows and venomous words that had been boiling under her skin ever since the raid. And yet, it was ripped away from her. Just like that. Without word nor permission, all because this woman turned out to be absolutely nothing like she expected.

Another throb throttled Leanne's ribs and she winced, yet her hold on the inhaler remained steadfast.

"Darling, I gotta ask you again... What in the hell are you?"