CHAPTER 25 - Labels
The blindfold was ripped off her head by unknown hands. After so long in the dark, the bright lights were glaringly painful. Marie squinted to see the people around her.
They’d led her into a cinder block room, that’s the first thing she was able to discern. There were, three -- no, four men crowded around, all of them in head-to-toe coverings. Her hands were in shackles behind her back. They were painfully uncomfortable with no links leaving room for her shoulder muscles to relax.
When the room finally came into focus, she tried to stay calm. One of the men, a younger guy in a lab coat, came up and grabbed her chin with a gloved hand. She pulled away angrily. He didn’t seem to care. He grabbed her again and wrenched her face to the side, looking over her scrapes and bruises.
“Some abrasions, contusions. Nothing too serious.” He flashed a light over her eyes. “Pupils a bit dilated. Maybe a minor concussion. Nothing to be worried about.” He clicked the light off. “Get her cleaned up and labeled.”
She grunted in pain as one of them lifted her by the arm, straining her muscles even more.
“Easy there, tiger,” she said. “That how you treat a lady?”
He smirked and leaned in slightly. “You’re not a lady. You’re nothing but an animal. A dirty, filthy animal.”
She snapped at him, just to watch him flinch. He did, and she smiled wickedly. “Maybe I’m rabid too. Wanna get close enough to find out?”
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Get moving,” he said as he shoved her forward.
She tried to calm her nerves. She tried to reassure herself that the bounty on her head, her ‘living’ head, was higher than her dead one. It gave her some leeway. They wouldn’t outright kill her if they didn’t have too. She had time to come up with a way out, then.
How long had it been since they’d picked her up? At least a day and night. She was exhausted, but hadn’t dared fall asleep in the SUV they’d packed her in for fear that she’d miss something she needed to know.
Two of them dragged her to large bare room -- it looked like a locker room, with various showers heads and drains. A few bars of soap lay around, looking like they might leave someone dirtier than before. One of the men shoved her in, while the other stood guard by the door. The man who seemed to be enjoying pushing her around uncuffed her hands and pointed the gun at her head.
“Towels and clothing on the bench. Get showered and changed.”
She looked at the pile. A white towel was tossed unceremoniously along with some clothing that didn’t include socks or shoes. She looked at them, waiting.
“Go on...get showered,” he said again.
She stared at him with a level look. “You gonna give a girl some privacy?”
He snorted. “Nothing I ain’t seen before, baby.”
“Now, I’m baby?” she sneered. “What happened to me bein’ a filthy animal? Or do I suddenly become human when you wanna get off bein’ a voyeuristic freak.”
He reached out and shoved her into the stall. “I said get fucking showered!”
She set her jaw. “I’d rather stay filthy, thanks.”
He cocked his gun. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“All that effort to catch me and you’re gonna kill me now?” She asked in an amused voice.
“Five seconds,” he counted. “Four.”
She turned and grabbed the towel.
“You’ve made your damn point.”
She walked over to the shower and pulled at her shirt. It stuck to her skin where blood had dried. She hissed when some of her scabs peeled off. She could see him staring avidly at her. She rolled her eyes in disgust. Damn pervert.
She stripped her shoes and pants off, feeling his roving eyes on her skin.
She turned the water on, pushing her hand under the spray, and waited. She sighed. It wasn’t going to warm up.
“Fuck,” she muttered. She peeled off her bra and panties. She heard his intake of breath.
She turned and stared at him. “Beastiality a real turn-on for ya, sugah?” she drawled icily.
She brought her eyes down to the bulge in his pants and raised her brows. “Seems so.”
He cursed and struggled for words. “Just get going.”
She glared daggers at him and rinsed herself as best as she could, shivering violently from the icy water. She looked at the floor as red water pooled down the drain. Blood. Hers, Jubes’s, that man she’d killed in the fight...? Impossible to tell at this point.
She used her hands to scrub and scrape away the filth of dirty snow and asphalt, refusing to use the soap that looked like it might give her some sort of flesh-eating bacteria.
When the water ran clean, she shut it off and grabbed the towel, trying to dry herself off gently. Her bruises and scrapes stung madly.
She yanked at the clothing on the bench as she watched the two men gaping at her. She felt the need to push her luck and called up someone she never thought she’d want to hear from again. He gave her what she needed.
“Why don’t you needle-dick assholes shove it in each others’ ears?”
The guard at the door snorted and leered. “I can think of a better place to put it.”
“Your mom’s not here right now, sugah,” she spat.
He tensed. “That’s a load of shit to be falling from such a pretty mouth.”
Big Sam didn’t fail her. “And you’re one load your mama should’a swallowed.”
He started in her direction, fury rippling through his face. “You fucking cunt!”
She smiled secretly. A little closer.
The man closer to her jerked his hand out in warning. “Hey, man. Remember what Doc said about her skin? Don’t get too close!”
Marie’s heart sank. Damn. She could have gotten a hold of that gun.
She pulled at the clothing they’d supplied her with. A pair of worn scrubs and a white shirt. No underwear, no socks, no shoes, no bra....
“Stylish,” she said sarcastically.
XXX
She walked with both guards behind her down the passageway. They hadn’t put the shackles back on, so she kept her arms crossed in front of her, rubbing them for heat. Her bare feet were numb from the icy floor beneath her.
“Turn here,” one of them said. “To the right.”
She stepped through a set of doors and stopped, staring around her.
Three men dressed head to toe. Two men in lab coats. All waiting for her. An exam table with restraints sat at the ready, while other tables with trays of instruments were scattered around the room. Oh, God.
And suddenly, Logan’s voice came roaring to life. It was so sudden, so shocking, she wasn’t prepared. He’d never said more than two words to her before. Now...
RUN! he snarled. Fight and get out!
She turned and threw herself back towards the door. Covered arms grabbed her and dragged her back. She screamed.
“Nooo!”
Old memories of being cut, being sliced open bombarded her mind. Her body jerked violently against the hands, throwing herself as hard as she could. More hands grabbed and she was picked up.
His voice was so loud in her head, she wasn’t sure it was even her screaming.
“No! No! Let go!”
She was on the table, being strapped down. She wanted to cry, to hysterically break down. The guards were moving back now, as the doctors moved in.
“Worthington Lab wants a few tissue samples ready for when they arrive for pick-up,” one of them said.
The other nodded and grabbed some Betadine. He pulled up her shirt sleeve and began swabbing her skin. His eyes caught the glint of metal on her skin. He reached out and picked up her pendant, looking closely at it. He snorted and yanked savagely, breaking it off and turning to throw it in the trash. He went back to rubbing the solution onto her skin.
Logan’s voice changed. A gentle whisper in her ear.
Close your eyes, darlin’. She obeyed, her breath coming in shaky pants. Don’t look.
She felt the tears run down into her hair as she jerked her head away from the arm the doctor was marking with a blue pen. “Don’t leave me alone,” she begged.
Never.
XXX
She was sweating and shaking as they pulled her up. Her eyes were red and raw from the tears she hadn’t even attempted to hold back. Her body wouldn’t stop convulsing and she felt like she might throw up...again. Her shirt was already stained from the bile that had erupted in the middle of them peeling four-inch squares off her arms. She wasn’t sure how many.
One of the doctors moved to a cart and pulled open a drawer. “Class Four, Dr. Sanders?”
The other one checked his notes. “Yes. Class Four.” He looked down at her. “We might want to do some of our own tests before her pick up in the morning. Not too often we get one this strong.”
She clenched her eyes against the panic overtaking her.
He looked at his watch. “It’s early. Let’s get her labeled and registered. We can take more samples this evening.”
The doctor by the drawers pulled out some red cloth and walked back over. He hooked it up to a snap she hadn’t noticed on her sleeve. She stared at it, realization sinking in.
“Arm band,” she said.
The doctor snorted. “Yes, arm band. Good girl.” He looked up and jokingly said to the others, “We might actually have a smart one here.” The room filled with laughter.
Marie brought her eyes up to the man snapping a label on her. This was them. These were the people who had tossed so many people into a pit and left them to rot.
“There were children...” she said in disbelief.
He finished snapping the armband into place with a confused expression on his face. He smiled at the others. “Maybe not.” More laughs.
Dr. Sanders spoke up. “Enough.” He finished making notes on his clipboard and pushed the pen into the hole at the top. “Take her to the containment cell.”
XXX
She had expected to be in a small room, isolated from the world. She had actually looked forward to being left in peace so she could quickly and quietly fall apart. But the process of being registered took a painfully long time.
They marked her band with numbers and actually spent time getting her physical information: height, weight, a complete physical. She cringed and flinched back as they touched her.
They all had gloves on, and she started to wonder if they even knew she had control. She wasn’t going to give them that piece of the puzzle if they didn’t already have it. From the way they flinched at her every move, she was pretty sure they didn’t know. That suited her just fine.
A new guard came and grabbed her by the arms to drag her along the corridor. His fingers gripped the bandages over her torn skin.
He punched in some codes on the wall and they walked through yet another set of mysterious doors. They closed and the loud click of the lock sliding into place made her heart sink even more than it already had.
He pushed her down onto a bench. While he smiled disgustingly at her, another guard walked in with a clipboard, making some notes, not bothering to look up.
The guard next to her, heavier-set and smelling of fish, suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked. She yelped and felt some of her hair actually detach from her head.
He leaned down close and leered. “You’re kind of hot,” he breathed.
She stiffened.
The taller, leaner, guard filling out paperwork growled warningly. “Phillips.”
Phillips pulled her to her feet and was suddenly trying to lift her shirt.
“Let’s get a look at that fine rack, girl.” She jerked back violently.
The slimmer man stopped his writing and stared at him. After a second he said in a strained voice. “We’re not supposed to do that, Phillips.”
Phillips laughed. “Learn to have a little fun, Carver.” He pulled at her shirt again, this time pulling her in close.
She slammed his hand away defensively. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
“Ohhh, feisty.” He yanked her around. “You should give this one a go Carter. Might loosen you up some.”
Carter froze and looked up. He truly looked at her then for the first time, his eyes appraising. For a second a look flashed across those eyes. She could hardly see his face for the full body suit they were wearing around her. But his eyes. Something registered.
“What an intriguing idea,” he finally said, hanging the clipboard back up on the wall.
Phillips laughed. “Take her into cell D, man. You can restrain her on the table.”
And once again panic shot through every last vein. She jumped away and ran back to the door, but they grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back, pinning her hands painfully behind her back.
She kicked and struggled as they pushed her into a room with a table, Carter walking in after her. He called back to Phillips. “You got something I can use?”
Phillips laughed and pulled out a latex foil packet from his pocket, slipping it into the other man’s hand.
Marie felt blood rush into her head. Thoughts of Trip slammed into her, bringing her panic to its absolute limits.
Carter mumbled a thanks and closed the door, locking it behind him. She took a step back. “Unless you want a swift kick to the balls, I suggest you keep the hell away from me.” The threat was shaky, at best.
He was still staring at the door, listening for something. She waited, frozen in place. He finally turned to face her and her heart stopped.
He stared hard at her for moment, that look crossing his eyes again. And this time she could place it.
He recognized her.
He reached up and pulled the mask away. Dusty brown hair frazzled with friction stuck out in various directions. His beard was a bit long, but well-kept otherwise. Brown eyes stared in disbelief at her.
“Rogue, what are you doing here?”
She blinked as she recognized his face. “Detective Rogers?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was a chapter I had in my head for a while and FINALLY got to put it down on paper(so, to speak). Hope you enjoy. Thanks as always to my fantastic BETA, doctorg - Always great to have a sounding board for good insults! : )
Chapter End Notes:
What? WHAT? That's right. I set that one up a while ago! Tee hee! Review or I'll keep Rogue int that Lab FOREVER! Bwahaahaa! :-)