The woman seemed nervous, uncomfortable with 177's questions. Perhaps it was a delicate subject- the doctor seemed to treat it as such. 177 sighed internally. She was going about this all wrong; too directly. Perhaps if the doctor hadn't been there- but he was, and there was no way of getting around it. It wasn't that such thought he was malicious, it was more that... well, he could too easily be a pawn of the enemy to be trusted. There were certain people, and perhaps Havelock was one, whose guilelessness made them easy prey for the predators. No, she would have to be more careful about this. Try to understand by other means...

She took the tea she was offer and smiled gratefully, exposing teeth longer and sharper than a normal person's if Claire cared to look. She sniffed the tea out of force of habit, taking a moment to try and place the flavors and mixtures, then sipped it while she watched Claire. The woman was very thin. Were they feeding her enough? For all that had happened to her there, Laboratory 1 had at least never starved her. If only the doctor wasn't there, so she could ask questions in peace.

Best to start over, perhaps. She tapped at her phone, then pushed it in the middle of the table to be seen.



Nathan Havelock
Claire Elliot

Well, she supposed she should have seen it coming. Jack was making the young American an offer of employment. Typical. Powered or not, everything about the girl- Cory- screamed that she was untested, weak in all the ways that mattered. Well, if Jack chose to accept her despite that, that was Jack's affair. If he wanted to risk her freezing the first time something hard came up- if he wanted her screaming because she couldn't take a bullet through the leg, no matter how minor- well, that wasn't 177's affair. Just as long as Jack didn't expect her to deal with the girl. She didn't have time to change diapers.

Jack spoke, making the offer, wrapping the girl in their spiderweb of words. From all appearances, the girl couldn't even see it. At least 177 had walked into her deal with open eyes. The girl would get burned if she didn't learn better how to watch herself. She was lucky that Jack had gotten to her and not someone worse.

Well. It was what it was. With any luck, she could forget about the girl now, and never have to deal with her again.

Jack Fontaine
Coryelle Wilde

She sat, as she always did, silently listening as people whose throats could bring forth speech went back and forth. Banter. It was a mode of interaction she was forever cut off from.

She rarely devoted much time to thinking about her limitation, but as she listened to Jack and the Lady she felt a strange, distant sense of loss. Despite their antagonism, there was a bond between them that was created by sharing words, a joint world where their minds met and left her outside.

For a moment, she let her mind drift. The worst part about lacking speech wasn't the hinderence to communication- it was the way it made others think of her as a fool. Matsushita's face suddenly loomed large in her mind, a memory rising unbidden: a time one of the men had tried to take her as a woman, and she had bitten him, wounding him deeply in the manhood. The man had been angry. Matsushita had laughed. "It happened because you are a fool," he said, gesturing at the man's injury. "Would you ask a dog for that?"

And he had pointed, pointed at where she slumped chained. She remembered that, the shape of his long finger, the curved nail. The expression behind it, knowing and contemptuous. "Look at it! You look and you see the shape of a woman, a human figure- but an appearance only! Look closer. See the sharpened teeth, the nails like claws, strength like a gorilla! See in the eyes, the incocate rage of the rabid beast! The mouth and throat with no power of speech!" He dropped his arm, and shook his head. "Not a human woman. A creature, no more." He had looked at the injured man, and smiled. "If creatures are to your taste, you may take your pick at the kennels."

For a moment, the memory held her. Then with an effort she pushed it from her mind and brought herself back to the present. She sat still. The only sign of the memory had been a slight increase in her breathing. All else was the same. Jack was mentioning something called RISE. She focused her gaze on the Lady again, searching for signs of threat or malice. There was nothing.

Jack turned to her, exploiting her enhanced hearing for a whispered question. Below the table, 177 rocked her hand back and forth in a "so-so" gesture. She didn't think the Lady had any plans for immediate betrayal, but she had no doubt that the Lady would do so the moment she saw a chance to benefit. Then again, she'd describe Jack in the same way.

Quite a pair, these two, she thought wryly. They were made for each other. If they went on like this long enough, perhaps they'd marry each other. She allowed herself a tiny smile of amusement at the thought.

Jack Fontaine
@josephine

The Lady was angry. There was no doubt of that. 177 took a perverse satisfaction in that; these sort of priviledged people always needed to be knocked down a peg or two. The Lady's eyes simmered; her face had barely contained rage. Still, it seemed unlikely she would try anything physical as long as 177 was there. She wasn't that stupid. 177 steeled her face to impassivity.

Something crossed the Lady's face, perhaps some sign she was using whatever her ability was. 177 didn't like that she might be doing that, but there was no way to stop it without hurting her, and it wasn't time for that yet.

Maybe later.

As the two bantered, 177 idly wondered where she fit into the Greek Mythology scheme. Achilles, maybe? Yes. She rather liked that designation. Not exactly part of their story, but someone with a story of her one, and a potent force for whatever side she threw in for.

Jack Fontaine
@josephine

New York!

It was a city unlike any other, unlike any 177 had ever seen. Not even Moscow had matched it for bustle, for the density and height of buildings. The sheer speed of its movement was almost staggering. She found herself struggling to track faces in the crowd, a difficulty she had never experienced before. It made her edgy, suspicious, and she stuck closer to Jack than she ever had back home. It was to protect him, of course, but it was also because in this strangest of strange places he was the closest thing she had to a sturdy anchor. Another person might have wanted to see the attractions of the city, and perhaps for 177 that desire would come in time. For now, however, she was still reconciling herself to the bustle of the place, and found herself wishing to soon return home.

At least traffic in the restaurant was slower and more manageable. Within a few minutes of entering the restaurant, 177 had memorized the locations of the exits and customers and mentally marked the ones most likely to be dangerous in a fight. They were not here to deal with any of those people, of course. But it paid to be prepared.

Standing near Jack she declined to order anything, feeling it inappropriate while she was working. However unlikely violence was, she took her job seriously, and intended to be at maximum effectiveness at all times while working.

She spotted the woman- their real target- even before Jack waved her over. The woman's body language stood out from everyone else who had entered the restaurant; she wasn't here to eat, she was here for some other purpose. It was easy to guess what. As the woman walked towards them, 177 sized her up, checking for bulges where weapons might be concealed and searching for weak spots to exploit. It was clear to her within moments that the woman was not a melee fighter: her frame was slight, her bones thin, and her muscles unhardened by fighting. A single blow to the ribs would probably be fatal. Whatever power this woman had, it was in a realm other than the physical.

The woman- “Lady”- began to exchange words with Jack, the sort of round-the-tree nonsense that rich people spoke in when they wanted to feel special and intelligent. It was all useless posturing as far as 177 was concerned. Her eyes were on the restaurant. The movement of waiters, the glances of customers, the hands of the Lady across from her. One of the Lady's hands went to her necklace. It was a practiced movement, one intended to look like idle fiddling. But the muscles were all wrong for that; they were too tense, the tightening of the fingers too sure.

Her hand shot out in a flash, fingers closing over the necklace where the Lady clasped it. For a moment she held it, and held the Lady's gaze, face hard as adamant, expression tuned to communicate that the Lady was seen, and understood, and measured and found to be small in 177's sight. Understanding without warmth. Mouth hard as diamond. The slightest twist of contempt at the corners of her eyes.

She twisted her wrist, snapping the cord that held the necklace and pulling back her hand with another twist, trusting in her strength to make the act irresistible. She didn't know what the necklace was for, but that didn't matter. It was too small to be anything fatal other than perhaps poison, and since the Lady was unlikely to expose herself to poison at close range it was, at worst, intended to be added to food or drink. It didn't matter, really. She would present it to Jack and let him- no, them- draw their own conclusions.

Jack Fontaine
@josephine

She stared at Jack for another long moment after they spoke, trying to fit his words into her idea of them. She had always taken Jack to be just another rich person- perhaps not without human emotions, but so totally wrapped up in themselves that those emotions hardly mattered. Under other circumstances she might have dismissed Jack's words now as mere gestures in the direction of human feeling, but something she had not seen before had crept into them. It had began as they had read her description of what had happened to her. Something across Jack's face- a look that said, no matter what else, they were being affected. And something in Jack's voice as well- the way they said that money didn't matter, the way they spoke of not being selfish. Strange words. Words she'd never have expected to come from him. What did the rich know of not being selfish? Surely this was a trick, an utterance of words he didn't believe.

Yet there was a power to those words. A stirring that they raised up, a longing in some part of her she had almost forgotten about. Duty- honor- those were words she had believed in once. Perhaps she still did, even if she now lacked any object to apply to those concepts. Her heart was wrapped around the striving to be a decent woman in a world that dealt indecency, and the way Jack had framed his words- the way he had pulled her with talk of selfishness- it tugged at her, softened her heart.

Her brow furrowed. She moved her mouth, but no sound came out. Suddenly she was gripped with an immense frustration at her inability to speak. How slow it was to type, and how difficult to find the words. To communicate simply by willing it- what a gift! She could write for long minutes and he would be able to answer quickly. Something inside her clenched, something already clenched inside her loosened. A piece fell into place. Her private assessment of Jack's worth rose ever so slightly.

She looked away, suddenly feeling tired, and rubbed at her eyes before picking up her phone again. Her typing was much slower now as she considered her words. Several times she paused and glanced at Jack before continuing. When she was done she handed the phone to him.



Jack Fontaine

She watched the expression on Jack's face shift as Jack read the message she had typed. Having finished the message, she felt bare, like she had torn a scab from a wound. She wondered if it had been wise to let herself write as freely as she had. Still, there was no going back now. She kept her concern off her face.

Jack turned to her. There was something in Jack's expression she couldn't quite place. An emotion she hadn't seen before. Strange. She hadn't thought them capable of such feeling. She had viewed Jack as a cold calculator, concerned with their own goals and pleasure. On Jack's face now she saw something different- a kind of empathy.

Jack began to speak. For a moment, just for a moment, 177's face cracked and a look of immense sorrow crosses her features. But she was shaking her head even before Jack had finished speaking. No. Reaching out, she took her phone.



Jack Fontaine