Subject: [OTL]: [Broken Roads] Crossroads, 6/? (PG) Date: Sun, 20 Aug 2000 23:33:05 -0700 From: "Shaianne K. PeriHawk" Disclaimer: I don't own Victor Creed. I make no profit from the use of him. He's being a bastard any way. Dedicated to Luba and Jen. My biggest supporters. Crossroads, 6/? Shai PeriHawk I awoke with tears on my face. I reached up to feel the moisture. Yes, they were tears. I tried to sit up, only to fall right back down when white lances of pain curled up from my abdomen. _Where is my shirt?_ The black one I had on belonged to Creed, I could smell him on it. I curled on to my side and pushed myself up, gritting my teeth. I pulled up the black cotton to look at the claw wounds and found my own plain white t-shirt, now dappled with bloodstains. Apparently Creed had bandaged me up while I was unconscious. He'd even cleaned the wounds. There was almost no light in the closet he'd stuffed me into. There was barely enough room for me to lie down. A row of stiff white coats brushed the top of my head. I reached up and grasped the handle of the door. I peered through a tiny crack. The room outside was empty. I stood slowly. I snagged a lab coat from a hanger and opened the door. I stepped into the room cautiously, pulling the coat on slowly. Gleaming white tile and a strong antiseptic smell greeted me. What looked like giant test tubes lined one wall. Thirty in all. Images through a haze of green bubbles flashed through my mind. I shook my head to clear it. On the other side of the room was what looked like a coroner's table. Bright lights and sharp tools surrounded the metal table. I felt the ghost of cold metal pressed into my back. I'd been here before. Or some place like it. The door on the opposite wall opened, revealing a tall coolly blond woman. Half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked up from her clipboard. "Hello, are you the new assistant they said would come?" Before I could start to answer, she went on. "We'll be getting a new batch of samples, if we're lucky. Hopefully it won't be the mess he turned the last one into." Her voice turned to ice. "I hate a mess. Oh, well, the project must go on." I had trouble finding my voice. "Could you tell me more about the project, Doctor? The details are rather sketchy to me." To say the least. A blond eyebrow rose as she gazed at me over her glasses. "You haven't been briefed, I imagine. Stone is a secretive bastard at best." I shook my head, eyes down. Her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Well, then. Cloning has been possible for quite a few years. Recently there have been steps to age them at an accelerated rate." She made a few more notes on her clipboard and walked over to the table. "My father was the scientific mind in charge of a government experiment to physically enhance human beings beyond their current capabilities. Unfortunately, he was killed by one of his subjects. The project was cancelled, but I still have all of his research." She put the clipboard down on one of the carts. "I've put together the two experiments to create a superior being. Stone funds me, along with several backers. We don't, nor will we ever, know who they are." Her eyes glinted with a steely light. "But I have my lab, and as much experimenting material as I need." Her jaw tightened. "At least I did. In the original round of testing, the prototypes had an extremely high burnout rate. They died within months of hatching. Except for one." Her voice trailed off, cold anger etched in every line of her face. "The clone of the girl who died in group Alpha three. Subject Anne DeLeon She was resistant to the sedatives we used to keep the samples unconscious. "Stone took her when the drugs didn't work at first. He brutalized her quite severely before I could get the sample cells from her." Her teeth ground. She was far from as cool as she looked. "As it is, she died anyway. She was too weak. We were lucky to get the egg cell before it was damaged." I felt light-headed, as if all the blood had drained from my face. "Stone . . . raped her?" "Six ways from Sunday, if you'll pardon my crudity," she replied. She picked up a vial, and a syringe. "Was she cloned successfully?" "In a manner of speaking," she replied absently as she drew some of the liquid from the vial. "The memory and discipline programming was not what you'd call successful. Trying to transplant memories from a dead brain interfered with the discipline programming. The clone is not as strong or fast as the other prototypes, but she doesn't seem to be decaying like the others. I'd like to find out why, but Stone and his associates, mostly his associates, won't allow experimenting to continue until she's brought back." She turned to me, eyes full of satisfaction. "Which is why I'm glad you've come home." She jabbed the needle into my arm and depressed the plunger. I jerked away as quickly as I could. Blood dripped down my arm. Even as I ran for the door, the world started to spin. I stumbled down the hall, heedless of any people I might have passed. Only one thing was important then. I had to get out. The blackness reached up and snatched me down before I could stop it. _Not again . . ._ ~*~ I was getting awfully tired of waking up in strange places. Doing so tied up was just that much more annoying. Not only did my mouth feel like something had decayed in it, my whole body felt like acid burned through my veins. Like the truth burned through my mind. Anne DeLeon. Anne DeLeon. Ana Lyon. I was just a shadow of a person, a child without a past. I had no parents, no relatives. I was nothing more than a poor imitation. I was crying again. I tried to wipe the tears away angrily, but my hands were shackled at my sides. It was then that I realized that I was strapped to the metal table I'd seen before. An experiment laid out for dissection. My stomach churned at the thought. I wondered about Creed, wondered if he knew where I was. I hoped for rescue. I prayed for death. I could never live a life, even without Stone and his crew looking for me. A person my apparent age needed a past. People had birth certificates, job records, social security. Mothers whom called and asked when they were going to get married . . . Hope mocked me. Gone were my dreams of finding my past and returning to a normal life. I had no past. How can a person have a future without one? Yes, death would be so much easier. I closed my eyes, and waited for the oblivion of the soulless. Then there was a loud explosion. My eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling. Jade and Kevin's people must have arrived. I sighed, and wondered if they were too late. "Wake up, girl." My eyes flew open at the graveled sound of Creed's voice. _His face is upside down,_ I thought. Then I realized that he stood over me at the head of the table. "What do you want? Your leverage?" I asked bitterly. His hand reached down and wiped the tears from my cheeks. He stared at the moisture on his hand curiously. "Nope. I'm not after the slavers any more. They're small beans compared to the good doctor." He smiled then. A bloodthirsty and feral smile. Things fell into place in my head. "Her father is the scientist who altered Jack and Jasmine," I whispered. "They ain't the only ones dear old dad messed up." I could barely hear him, and his eyes were closed. "She was her father's assistant, she- Let's just say that me and the good doctor have issues." "What does that have to do with me?" I turned my head aside, trying to focus on something else. I didn't want to see the pain in his eyes. I didn 't want to see him as anything but a monster. I didn't want him to get to me. "Now that she has you, the doc can start her experiments again." He ripped open the manacle on my right wrist. "That is the last thing I want to happen." He ripped out the other manacle. "So you're staying out of her hands if I have to follow you until the end of your days." "Why not just kill her?" I asked as I rolled off of the table. I wiped the tears from my face with the collar of my shirt. "Because that wouldn't be any fun." He sounded like a seven-foot spoiled brat. "Now, come on. Jade's waiting." His hand curled around my upper arm, encouraging me to move faster. I jerked out of his grasp. "I'm not a dog, Creed. I am not your best friend, and I won't do everything you demand, when you demand." He straightened up to his full, intimidating height. "You're coming with me, and you're coming now." He reached toward me with one paw-like hand. I backed away, but not fast enough. He tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He ran down the teeming halls. Jade's crew and slaver mercs fought like madmen. Creed pushed his way through the crowd, to a closed door. Abruptly, he yanked open the door and pitched me inside. "Stay here until I get you." He slammed the door shut behind him. I slammed my open palm against the door in frustration. "Damn you, Creed, I don't need a babysitter." "Oh, but here was the perfect place to put you, pretty." I whirled at the sound of that hated voice. My eyes dilated in fear, enabling me to make out Stone's satisfied features. "Yes, just the perfect place for you." ~end chapter six