Project Atlas [Inactive]

Corporal Tyler donned a thin but understanding smile at Xavier’s stammering apology. He took her hint to heart; that was sufficient. Her son wasn’t that much younger than Xavier, although she tried not to let that color her perspective. “You can call me ‘Corporal’, or ‘Tyler’ or ‘Ma’am’, or simply greet me with a respectful hello. I suspect the other women on your new team will appreciate the same.


“And for the record: when I’m mad, you’ll know it.” She motioned toward the disk with a nod. “Your appointment is at 1400. I can probably have the results by then.”

~ * ^ * ~

​



Even when attempting an open conversation, Carter’s posture remained immaculate, starting with his squared shoulders. It didn’t matter that he was open-minded (or thought he was): he couldn’t make that seep into his musculature. Years of attempting it had proven that over and over again.


Dolos’ anger started out more subdued than Carter had expected. Then again, he didn’t know much about the man aside from what was in his file. Dolos’ mutter was on par with what he had seen so far. The direct and somewhat surly questions were more revealing. Unfortunately, Carter didn’t have a lot of answers for the man. He hadn’t been part of selecting the team. The assignment had been handed to him, with Dolos as a late addition. And although he had a general idea of the kinds of missions Project Atlas undertook, the first mission was still yet to be revealed to him; a point he intended to discuss with the Colonel later.


With no good answers to provide, he took a different approach. “I won’t bullshit you. This is a cell, just one where the work program is more… creative. But I can tell you that the offer is legitimate. Atlas was founded in the belief that metahumans are capable of good as much as evil. Someone is betting you’ll choose good, and I’m backing their play.


“As for what I expect of you, you’re doing it. Be straight with me, work with the team. Make yourself useful. Yes, you may be asked to serve as a Trojan Horse. Personally, I don’t think that’s all your good for. Idiots don’t survive as con men as long as you have.” He paused briefly before motioning to the badge in Dolos’ hand. “The badge and the restriction against accessing systems are relatively invisible.” He didn’t elaborate; Dolos would be treated fairly and have a chance to move from being odd-man-out to a contributor. If he so chose. And he was smart enough to recognize that, whether he was stating it aloud or not. “Show me that you’re willing to make an effort. Or are you serious about wanting to go back to prison? If so, tell me now. I don’t have time to waste on someone who’s going to hurt my team.”
 
"I would really enjoy if they had a garden of some sort. Even if it was a few plants then I would be fine with it. I would rather it be a whole mess of trees, though so I can spread out. I wonder if they would at least let us make one. The closed space thing is one of the reasons why I live in a loft apartment. It's much more open," Danny replied to Janice. "If they were willing, I would be cool with supplying the trees. I have way to many trees around my apartment."





Danny couldn't help but laugh at her monkey comment and how she looked at Mark when she was talking about monkeys. She hoped that he wouldn't mind the joke and just brush it off or go along with it.


She finished her second sandwich and began to speak again, "I began to realize I was agrokinetic when I was younger. Maybe nine or ten. It was only three years after Hercules that my powers started showing up. I would go to the garden and simply touch a plant. In the next few seconds they would be all throughout the flowerbed. It was cool and everything until I realized that it wasn't normal and had to hide it from other people like my parents. And then I went to a garden shop - that was my first mistake - and decided it would be a great idea for me to be around a garden store. I lost control of my powers around so many plants. I thought I could control it but..." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. It wasn't harmful to anyone. It just scared the living shit out of me when I realized my powers were getting out of hand," Danny chuckled. "They caught me on surveillance freaking out." She paused for a moment to take a drink of water. "So yeah. That's how I got here." She scratched her head and finished another water bottle.


Danny hoped that if she said something it might start a conversation. It was at least a try.
 
Janice nodded. “As you can imagine, I knew I was different my whole life. I grew up in a family of chimps in the wild. That was actually pretty lucky as usually an alpha chimp won’t tolerate a stranger in his family unit and just kill it. They are very aggressive like that. The doctors say I wasn’t born from a chimp - that I had human parents. So that is a clue to what sort of a person my human mother must have been like.”


For a moment Janice’s eyes unfocused as if remembering. Then she blinked and a mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Father Matthew discovered me by the fact that food kept disappearing.” She grinned. “It was tasty too. And it was more fun to sneak it than it was to go and just pick it off trees. Now that might have gone on a while, but I had another weakness - music. That drew me in too. I loved to sing - even though I didn’t know any of the words. And pipe organs didn’t grow on trees. He combined the two to bait me in and it worked


“My first conversation with Father Matthew was singing, not words. I would just hum and voice the sounds of the tunes. Then he tried and I covered up my ears. It was a joke - and he took it as such. We laughed … and I was hooked. My first written words were musical notes. I learned in in a few weeks. English came within a couple months of that. within a couple years I mastered several languages available in the area and devoured their library, including memorizing the bible - in English and Latin.





“In many ways I am like the X Man character Hank McCoy. He’s sort of a favorite of mine. They say my IQ is really high, but I’m not quite the genius he was. I just have a head for languages. You could try to stick a book on physics in front of me and I would finally catch a few Z’s. I don’t know. I could probably learn the stuff. I’m smart enough. I just never had much use for it in Africa. If I started talking physics to one of the militant groups that came around to raid the missions for food I would likely have been shot.”


Janice thought about going into the part of her life when she had been taken by poachers, but decided the group was having enough trouble functioning. They didn’t need to be depressed any further.





“You know, this Mess hall makes a MUCH better meeting place than the conference room. These are delicious.” She held up another fruit. “I suppose it’s too much trouble to ship fruit all the way around the world just for me.” She mock pouted, but her eyes were clearly humored. Then she looked over at where Xavier sat away from the group.





“That is not going to work. I hope you don’t mind, but I am at least going to try to get him back over here. He’s just nervous. I can smell it. You make him especially nervous.” Janice grinned broadly her voice dropping conspiratorially. “That goofy hello he gave us this morning was because of you.” She stood up and stepped away, ambling over to where Xavier sat.





“So … you going to sit over and be a butthead? Or are you come over and join the team? If we are going to become a team - especially if we only have days, we need to work together. Your words - sort of. That means we do everything together. And if Carter is going to be on missions with us, that is going to include him as well. I’ll make sure of that. Dolos too. Deal with it. Otherwise, put in for a transfer. But my money is on the fact that we have a better chance with you than without. But you are going to have to learn to adjust your schedule to work at our speed.”


She didn’t wait for an answer. She merely turned and ambled back to her seat.
 
Butthead? Xavier had to fight back a smile. Janice didn’t pull her punches. He supposed there was no point in pointing out that he had arrived first. But then he has started without them. She was right about him needing to adjust his schedule. He was actually a little fatigued. That was half the sergeant’s fault. The man should have set an agenda. But then Xavier couldn’t blame the man. Carter was used to men who lived life in the usual three dimensions.


Xavier looked down at his 3rd empty plate. Butthead huh? Maybe. He picked his tray up, walked over and deposited it with the rest of the dirty dishes. Then he walked over to where the rest were sitting and tried to decide where to sit. Finally he pulled over a chair and sat down - clearly still a little distant.





“Sorry everyone. Having one of those days. I already have a full afternoon of b -- .. uhm … meetings scheduled.” He glanced over at Mark. “And evening. I normally nap a little during the day. I’ve been up almost 18 hours already - my time. For you guys it’s been about 6 hours. For me it’s been about three times that. That’s an average day for me. I just have a lot to do. And I’m not done yet. I’m going to work on a few more things for which I’ll probably get chewed out as well. Odds are I am re-inventing the wheel. But I don’t mind being chewed out for doing something right.”


“Anyways ...I guess that’s too much shop talk. It’s lunch time for you guys and I need to give it a rest.” He gave a wry smile.
 
Mark paid attention to the conversation, however, not paying as close detail as he normally would have been. He was zoned out, sitting there in the group, but in his own thoughts. He absently ate his fried chicken. There wasn't a particular subject of his thoughts as much he was aimlessly drifting through the regions of his mind. He eventually came out of his thoughts as Janice rose to invite Xavier over.


He had noticed Xavier's distance from the group. Which, Mark thought, was unsurprising. Xavier had certainly been the largest disappointment so far. Mark had been thinking for some time about what to do with Xavier, when suddenly a new idea struck him. His eyes light up like Edison discovering light, suddenly beholden to the genius of his brain. He pulled out his phone, hastily sending Carter an email that read: "I have an idea to deal with some of Xavier's attitude recently. Could we speak tonight at 19:00 in your office?"


As Xavier sat "closer" the group, he let forth half of an apology. It was clear that he still didn't consider himself to be wrong about the other issues that had happened this morning, still not apologizing for reading Mark's files, sharing personal notes, and other such things, but apologizing for his distance from the rest of the team. As Xavier said finished his thoughts, Mark said bluntly, "And I wouldn't mind you being chewed either, if you were right." He made sure to place emphasis on the if. Let Xavier know that he didn't approve and see what affect that had on him.


Turning attention back to Danny and Janice, Mark stated, "If you ladies are looking for some nature, Central Park is only a few minute drive from here. It's one of the few places that I stroll during the night. I wouldn't mind taking you both out there tonight. There's trees and plants aplenty. You can meet me at my quarters around 23:00 if you want to come." While Mark wasn't the largest fan of nature in general, Central Park at night provided a serene experience and way for him to often reflect on his thoughts and actions of the previous day in preparation for the next. He hadn't planned on going tonight, but the ladies had expressed interest in getting some time with the outdoors. The more comfortable they were in their new environment, the quicker they would adept to change and begin to work together as a team, Mark reasoned. Of course, that was his logical reason. Personally, he wouldn't mind getting to spend some time with them.
 
Janice shook her head. “2300? I plan to be asleep. And besides, we have a full day ahead of us tomorrow. Don’t you military types start your days at oh dark thirty? And you can stop being a butthead too. Chew him out later in an office - not here at lunch ruining my appetite. Manners.


“Now I don’t know what it was that Xavier did wrong. It sounds like he took matters of security into his own hands - beyond his pay grade. Personally I have no problem with that. I don’t mind having a teammate looking out for me - especially when I’m a little under the weather. And seeing as the big mess is over Dolos - I especially am grateful. The whole thing was handled pretty sloppy. My guess is that you better leave some of your own schedule open for the Colonel to chew all three of you out - you, Xaver and Carter.”


“Anyways, Danny, sorry, but I travelled all the way from the southern end of Africa and came straight into a meeting wasted. And I was looking forward to basketball in the morning. I think we all need more time as a team.”
 
Xavier stood up to leave, smiling. “He’s right about the Park. And contrary to popular belief it is one of the safest areas in New York City. Vanburen, please let the Sergeant know I am going to skip the tour. I have a 1400 with the Colonel - and I’ve already had the tours. I’m going to swing by the infirmary.”


“Ma’ams … my apologies, but it would have helped if I had been given a heads up on the surprises of the day. My routine is a bit different than what you guys go through - and today was a bit of an eye opener. Vanburen, I may be out tomorrow as well. Sorry, but this is a security issue way above your pay grade. The Colonel or General will have to make a decision on this one. I’m not sure which. But these recent changes they’ve made should have been run past me.


“Yes, I know how that sounds. But none of you have to live with an ability quite as dangerous as mine and ultimately it isn’t the responsibility of this Project or the UN to ensure its security. It’s mine. And THAT … sir … is why what I did was right. Imagine half a dozen of me as terrorists - the damage they could wreak. I have to live with that - not you.”
 
Danny could feel her cheeks heat up when Janice told her that the reason for Xavier's goofy smile and hi was because of me. She wasn't necessarily flattered, but she found it sort of weird. She decided to ignore it for now. She didn't want to be the center of attention and hoped that it was just the drunken part of Janice that saw how Xavier reacted wasn't because of her.


She thought about Vanburen's offer to go to Central Park at 2300. Danny really didn't mind seeing Central Park, it might be relaxing. She understood why Janice declined, but Danny didn't want that to stop her from going. "Yeah, I'd like to go. And I understand if you want to sleep, Janice. I'd be exhausted if I traveled across the world and immediately went to a meeting."





Danny thought about what Xavier had said about how "none of you have to live with an ability quite as dangerous as mine" and then how he told Vanburen that he didn't have to live with knowing how much damage he caused. "Sure we don't have to live with an ability like yours - whatever that's supposed to mean. But that doesn't mean that we don't have an ability that is "dangerous". When I was in that garden shop and my powers got out of hand, I could have harmed someone. I realize that we don't have to ensure the security of the UN and that your ability is oh so powerful. I get that you don't trust Dolos, but you barely even gave him a chance." Danny leaned back into her chair and let out a puff of air. "But thanks for making sure our security was safe. I'll give you props for that."


She leaned over to Janice and mumbled, "You're right; he is a butthead."
 
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Mark slammed down his tray against the table and rose to his feet. He had tried to remain clear-headed, even level-headed, but Xavier had pushed too far. He turned to face Xavier, his face showing his rage. Mark was pissed. He would have kept his mouth shut, but damn if he was going to let anyone talk down to him like that. He walked over to Xavier, and said "A word, Xavier. Now," and escorted him to into one of the empty meeting rooms connected to the mess hall. As soon as the door was shut, he turned to face Xavier. Letting his anger come to a boil he said, "You forget your place!" If he had been in the mess hall, the entire hall would have heard him. As it was, no one in the mess hall could hear anything from the meeting rooms. They were designed that way. "You think that you're special? You think your powers entitle you to a different life from everyone else? Well, let me be first to give you a goddamn wake up call Xavier. You're a nobody! A loser thief off the streets before we found you. We took you in, tried to make you something more than yourself. You're placed in your first unit out of training and you think, what? That suddenly the rules don't apply to you? Why? Because your power is "powerful" that you have to ensure it's security? Your ability is nothing special Xavier. You're nothing special. I've worked and fought with metahumans who make your powers look like jokes. And you know what? Did they moan and groan about the security of their ability when we brought in people with colorful backgrounds? No! They kept trucking on and did their goddamn jobs following the rules because they were real people with integrity who were willing to give others a chance." Mark paused for a moment then let out a soft laugh.


"The best part, Xavier, is that you don't realize the irony of the situation. You think Dolos is a security risk? Look at yourself. You don't think it was a risk bringing someone like you? You don't think that I went through the same thought process you did? You don't think that others in building have gone through the same issues you think you know about Dolos? Hell, you should have seen the shitstorm that was stared when we brought in Vivienne Cote the “Silhouette." She can become like a shadow, and her expert is in sabotage. Dolos looks like a tame kitten compared to her background. But you know what? We gave her a chance. And she's proved herself valuable. Dolos may, too, and I am willing to give him that chance." Mark shook his head in disapproval at Xavier.


"But you, Xavier, have shown yourself to be the true security issue today. Reading my files behind my back? Telling my written notes to other members of the team? Going straight to Colonel Drexler when you have a problem? How do you think that looks on Carter? It looks like he can't control his goddamn troops is what it looks like. And you? You're out of control. I can't even stand to look at you right now. Get your act together." With that, Mark turned and opened the door, shutting it behind him leaving Xavier in the room. He calmly walked back towards the table, the anger gone from him. He re-assumed his seat at the table, nodding to both of them.


"Sorry about that, Xavier and I needed to have a quick conversation in private." Looking at Danny he commented, "Come by my quarters around 23:00. It's room A12. I'd bring a coat, I hear it's going to be a bit cold tonight."
 
Xavier watched Mark leave. The man did NOT know how to be a supervisor. The thought that HE might be wrong never entered the man’s mind. But that was a character flaw Xavier had spotted long ago. Xavier had wanted to go through and point out the list of fallacies in Mark’s rant. But he didn’t. Mark WAS right about one thing. He had read the files - well, glanced them over. And really only Dolos. The rest he’d picked up on name, pic, codename, power and whether there was a lot of red in the files.


The handwritten codename for Janice had jumped out of the page at him. But he had never mention it to Janice. It was Janice who had brought the subject up - after others had mentioned their codenames. And upon hearing her talk about being a little sensitive to names like Monkey Girl, he had offered her some good advice. The funny thing was Xavier had been trying to save Mark a trip to the Colonel office with a furious Janice. Sure it was a cool codename - but not everyone might think so.


The rest? Clearly Mark’s notion of power was brute force. That was a little disappointing. As much as Xavier respected the man he realized Mark was a low level talent in terms of leadership. He lacked the imagination to see the potential harm of powers like time travel. Oh the man was smart enough if he ever stopped to think about it. But he thought in 3D terms. He was a Flatlander.


Xavier sighed, got up and walked out. He had planned on going to the infirmary. But he had a about an hour and a half before his meeting with the Colonel. She he decided to head straight to the Colonel’s office. When he arrived he nodded to Tyler.





“Ma’am, Corporal, I’ve pushed myself a little past my limits. If I try to sit down anywhere else, I’ll oversleep my appointment. If I crash, please wake me before I miss my appointment.” He sat down in the waiting area, hands and knees shaking a little. The reverse time walking had taken a lot more out of him than he’d realized. It was new. And it was catching up to him. He exhaled almost painfully and took a few deep breaths from a Boost O2 bottle. It helped his headache a little. Then he leaned back.


There was a thump as his head hit the wall behind him gently. Then he stopped moving as blackness closed in...
 
“Mark’s a butthead too - and so are you. How old are you and Mark? Thirty something? You’re almost old enough to be our mom. It sounds like Xavier screwed up about something. But by the same token he’s my age - but walking around with a power that could ignite WW III so fast we wouldn’t have time to realize it had already started.


“Mark? His power can affect what he touches. Right. Limits of damage ..” she gestured about. “You or me. Oh he could shoot one of us, grab the other. Not exactly a world shaking ability. Useful yes. Important yes. Potentially able to save the world? Definitely.


“You? You grow stuff. Sounds harmless enough. Okay … you can crush dummies. Go a step further. Roots can burrow. You could cause infrastructural damage to a building. Take the potential threat further. Could you take out the supports of this building and collapse it on us? Given time, maybe.


“Me. I am as harmless as any of us gets. At best I am an enhanced soldier waiting to get trained.


“But Xavier? He wouldn’t even need time. He isn’t worried about himself causing trouble - but his abilities falling into the hands of others - probably through some advanced form of gene therapy. A lot of militaries and terrorist cells would give a lot of money for an ability like his. They would probably care less about you and I. But imagine two Xaviers. They could walk onto a nuclear submarine, kill everyone in under a minute and launch a dozen nukes before anyone could stop them. Casualties in the millions, property damage in the billions. And that is only if whomever they hit doesn’t retaliate.


“That’s a lot of responsibility for any kid to shoulder. And that is something you are all forgetting. They are metahuman, but human nonetheless. Moira Rand 2010.” The corner of Janice’s lip turned upwards as she quoted. “Mom.”
 
Diana, who'd been quietly preoccupied with her meal at a nearby table, couldn't quite help having overheard the bulk of conversation from the others. She'd continued to remind herself that it wasn't her place to butt in, no need in getting involved in the current tension. However, it was after Janice made her little speech in Xavier's defense that Diana couldn't help herself.


"Oh don't give us that crap." She turned in her seat so that she was facing the others. "You just put Xavier's power in an entirely different light than your other examples. So he can run through time, that's great. And I agree that if someone with the right technology were to get a hold of his DNA, we'd have a nation-shattering problem on our hands, but that's true with any of us. If any of our genetic codes were to fall into the right, or should I say the wrong, hands we'd all be toast. Think about if there were two Dannys on that submarine, or two Ivans, or with the right training, two of me or you. The end result would be the same, and it would happen just as easily." Janice's quotation hadn't seemed to phase Diana or quite hit home with her as she continued, her voice firm and clearly fed up but still containing some level of calm and composure.


"Just because he's hung around the operation longer than us doesn't mean he gets to be 'Mr. High and Mighty'. Each and every one of us were chosen to be here. If we weren't useful or someone with some kind of influence didn't think we had potential, we wouldn't be sitting here having this discussion.


"And as for his age, that's a very good point, Janice. In fact, I was wondering why we are trusting a bunch of teenagers with this kind of operation myself. You guys are hardly out of high school. That is, if you'd gone to school.


"If Xavier really is as well trained and advanced as he'd like the rest of us to think, mistakes should be unacceptable coming from him."
 
The New York Atlas facility made good use of its somewhat limited space, and the designers had clearly attempted to provide a sense of aesthetics. The mess hall was a perfect example: it utilized both subterranean floors claimed by the program, providing one of the most open spaces in the complex. The food stations had a standard 9-foot ceiling, but two story the dining area felt open and utilized a series of trick lighting to make the space even more open and inviting. This made it a popular congregating place for all. At meal time, one could get a good sense of how many Atlas personnel were in the building by its occupancy.


Today was no exception to that rule as the new project members gathered for lunch. There were approximately seventy people present including those serving food. Most donned a military look and attitude, although a few stood out as being distinctly different. Among them was a tall, sinewy man with shoulder-length blond hair wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt, jeans, and black combat boots that Vanburen would know as Derek Swift, a metahuman the Project used on a consultative basis. He sat at a table with four soldiers who wore black uniforms and animated expressions. He discussed something quietly with them making quick gestures, earning grumbles, quiet arguments, and a couple of eye rolls in return.


A few tables over, the barrel-chested man Vanburen had seen leaving the Colonel’s office sat across from a brunette wearing sunglasses and a man with a military crew-cut wearing fatigues. He still wore his cheap suit and too-short tie. Occasionally, his New Jersey accent would carry to the surrounding tables - something about wood paneling and his former boss.


When the new group arrived, a few people had openly appraised the newcomers. Some whispers had been exchanged, but mostly they had been ignored. However, now when Vanburen slammed his tray down, almost everyone’s eyes turned their way. The suited man’s thick New Jersey accent could be heard in the brief silence that followed while Vanburen was escorting Xavier from the hall. “Geez. Is everyone here so uptight? It’s not in the food is it?” He sounded genuinely concerned until a smile spread across his face.


Derek Swift laughed loudly at that, with the soldiers at his table following suit, and the room began to fill with the buzz of conversation again. The brunette across from the comedian responded tersely in a French accent, “Let’s find out. Try the pudding.” She motioned to the two sizable helpings of brown goop on the man’s tray.


“What? I like chocolate, okay?” He grinned. “You’re French. Ain’t you supposed to love chocolate? Or is it just cheese and frog’s legs?”


The brunette glared at him as she stood, then she turned to address the other man at their table. “You finish the tour. I’ll see you at our 1300.” The soldier nodded, obviously fighting a grin. With that, she took her tray and left the room, glancing briefly at the table of newcomers on the way out.


When she had left, the pudding-lover turned to his remaining tablemate and asked, “Was it something I said?” before starting in on his dessert.
 
Mark quickly put up his hands and arms in a stop position, signaling no one else to begin speaking. While he had his differences with Xavier presently, there was no point in having the rest of the people getting into a fight. It would only serve to weaken any bonds of friendship that had been developing. "Ladies, ladies. Please. I don't have a problem with arguing the validity of Xavier's statements, but please, let's keep it civil." He cast glances at both Diana and Janice to indicate who he was referring to. "His attitude was uncalled for, period. You simply don't speak that way to anyone, regardless of experience. I know you're all new around here, but if anyone talks down to you like that let me know."


Pausing for a moment, Mark took a gulp of water from his water bottle. The yelling had left his throat rather rough and dry. He made a mental note to stop by the infirmary after training and get some medicine. The last thing he wanted to do was lose his voice.


"As far as age goes, I have some insight on that. Thanks to my skill-set, I'm the one that usually provides first contact with metahumans we're going to bring into Project Atlas. Hence, I'll sometimes be absent on alternate assignment. In fact," he said, recalling on past memories, "I was there when you, Danny, were recruited. I was running security. Thankfully, your recruitment was a peaceful and uneventful. Anyways, it seems like whoever's in charge of selecting recruits keeps picking them younger and younger. Rarely do I ever see a recruit over the age of thirty. Maybe it's because young men and women are easier to train than those already set in their ways. No offense," he shrugged at Danny. "It'd follow the pattern the United States military has been doing for years. It seems to have worked out for them. In the end, though, it all comes down to whatever policy brass wants to follow for bringing in new recruits."
 
"Yeah, I can be a butthead. I've been called worse, though," Danny laughed when Janice called her mom. "If I'm your mom, I guess that makes me have some major power over you or something... daughter."


"I don't see why we should still be discussing this when we are supposed to be bonding, not arguing about Xavier and everything. It's stupid, to be honest." Danny thought about what Janice had said about Xavier. She did make a good case, but that wouldn't change her mind about him. From the last few hours she had been here, all she could see in Xavier was an arrogant fool that wanted to be recognized as the top of them all.


Danny thought back to the day when she was at the garden shop. She could vaguely remember being escorted out by a security man and how when he touched her arm the vines stopped growing up the walls. Mark did look slightly familiar, and now that he mentioned he was a security guard, she could mentally envision their physical similarities.


"No, no offense taken. I can't really take offense for my age. It is easier to train people younger than thirty. I guess it makes sense. I'm older and less fit than the younger ones here. So it makes sense if they were to get people in their twenties. Who knows, my age may be a liability," She smiled to show it was a joke, but there was always some truth behind jokes. Danny didn't mind that the rest of the ground were throwing comments around about her age, it just came with getting older. And plus, she wasn't that old. Only thirty five. It still was old for beginning to go into the military. Danny didn't mind though; it just meant she would have to work harder.
 
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Dolos calmed down almost immediately as the words came out of his mouth, and the fact that Sergeant Carter reacted calmly had him slightly uncomfortable. It was eating at him, having to lie here, deceive these people. Dolos was quirky like that, able to lead a life of deception and conning people, but he detested it in anyone's personal life. He wrote off his thieving as business and sometimes, business and personal lives could be two different things.


When Carter finished, waiting for an answer, there was a long silence. Dolos mentally was on the edge, so close to coming clean, telling them about his predicament. Perhaps they could help him. Obviously this parent organization had resources all over the world and the assembled team, even in its infancy, showed the potential of the organization. Maybe they could track Brent down, get him and his mother back and to safety.


Or, maybe telling them could alert the kidnappers and have his son killed.


Then something hit him, a potential way for him to solve both issues at once. "I can do this. I don't think you'd understand, your life has probably been fairly well laid out, perhaps even predicable. My life, not so much. But the things I did have, my routines and supports, those are gone. My whole life," he made put both hands in front of him, put his fingers together and touched both hands together in front of his face. Then he blow, embellishing the sound as his hands and fingers opened up and moves away. "Gone. So I have one request. If you can do this one thing for me, I'm all in."


He looked at Carter who nodded and said, "I cannot make a guarantee, but tell me and if it's feasible," he ended with a shrug.


"My son. I am not sure what's in the file, but I have a son. I don't want him here, or. Whatever. I just want you to find him and let me know he's safe. That's it. His mother and I parted ways in light of my...abilities being made known to her."


He still found it ironic. She fell in love with him for who he was personally, but the fact that he could change himself physically, that was freakish. So he lost her because he could be part of exactly what she wanted, and change the parts to match.


"I haven't been able to find them, granted, I haven't really looked. All I have is his name, and his mother's, and a bank account I gave her--them."


He wasn't sure if the account was known to them, he'd gone to great lengths to avoid being the one to deposit money into the account. He'd either completely change his form and DNA, or approach homeless people, give them a significant sum of cash if they'd simply deposit money into the account. Sure, banks found it odd when a homeless man walked in and deposited 10,000 dollars cash into some account, but hey. 10 g's is 10 g's. And it wasn't illegal. And in the end, Dolos wasn't identifiable or connected either way. As to Brent or his mother ever being questioned, he didn't know.


He waiting for an answer, hoping that this would solve his problems all at once, and then if they found his son, he could come clean and ask them to take him and explain why he did what he did. Even better would be if they found Brent, terminated the entity responsible and over looked this, allowing him to stay in light of the circumstances.


Worst case, he go to a pit somewhere, but at least he could be happy that Brent was safe.


Win-win, right?
 
Carter said nothing in the silence that stretched after his question. Nor when Dolos assumed that Carter’s life had been simple and planned, although one corner of his mouth twitched upward at that. But he listened. The idea that Dolos wanted another concession after joining was irritating, but he knew that offering a get-out-of-jail card only lasted as long as one’s memory of the surrounding cinderblock walls.


He would consider it. And the request was reasonable, if a little odd. Dolos was anything but stupid. He’d mentioned his family when he confessed, so he probably knew it was in the file. And given that he could literally look like anyone, it was hard to imagine that he couldn’t track down and keep an eye on his son. Then again, a pissed off mother could do some serious damage. Carter knew a little about that.


Was Dolos attempting to play a sympathy card? Did he really not know where his son was? Or was there something more making the man worry for his child? The circumstances of his arrest had been suspicious. After staying under the radar for so long, Dolos had made a severe miscalculation. Of course, he had been cleared by their specialized psych evals, which implied he was sincere in his willingness to join the team.


And the bank account was news - at least to Carter. Dolos was freely providing information that would help them keep track of him. Carter nodded. "Give me the information. I'll see what I can do."


He turned toward the door and paused. "There's one thing you can do in good faith for your team. Wear gloves. I'm not saying you're looking at each of your new team members as a new identity to leverage. But taking a step to demonstrate that - in a way they can see - will go a long way to ease tensions."


He motioned toward the door. "It's not an order." The "yet" lay unspoken as he opened the door. "We'll stop by my office. Then get lunch and meet up with the others."
 
Dolos could almost hear the wheels turning in Carter's head as he mulled over what he'd just been asked to do. He wasn't sure exactly what thoughts were going through the man's head, but he could imagine several different ones. To be honest, he didn't care--he was desperate. So long as something happened, it would be better. Part of him hoped that the sergeant would catch on, interrogate him further and he could be free of the entire burden.


But, Dolos was not that lucky.


The moment "give me the information" came from his mouth, Dolos moved and grabbed a pen and paper from the desk, so relieved that he'd forgotten to even attempt to grab DNA or prints that may have been on the items. BRENT URIQUEZ was written down neatly, followed by his ex's name, ARIETA URIQUEZ, followed by the bank account number and last known address.


He handed the paper to Sergeant Carter just as the man made the request about gloves. Immediately, Dolos was put back, but not because of the lack of access to things. He just hated wearing gloves, hats, and glasses. It felt odd and somewhat constricting. While he was in no place to argue, he wouldn't have anyway. He saw the logic and benefit of this simple request, and truth be told, he'd be able to gather the things anyway if he so desired, just having to be a bit more on the sly.


But he was not trying to go that route anymore. Today was a new day, and this day would start a new way of Dolos doing things. Starting with the gloves.


"Yeah, sure. If you find Brent, I'll wear a goddamn body condom or whatever. And look. I know you're thinking, why didn't I just find them. Why didn't I look, and you know I could have found them. I could have, it's true. I'm just... Scared. When I told Ari--Brent's mom about, me. The look on her face. The way she went from love to detesting me like" *SNAP*.


"I can live with my son not knowing me, maybe attempting to get in the picture later. I do what I can, when I can. After she left though, I couldn't have lived if he'd have looked at me like that. I'd never be able to get the image out of my head. I'd take a life in the pit over that."


He took a deep breath and walked past the Sergeant, stopping just outside of the door. With his back to the sergeant, he forced something he'd never said to anyone, and never probably admitted to himself before this moment. "I'm over 80 years old. I've lived a dozen different lives. I've experiences a lot. World Wars, depressions, poverty. Orphanages, halfway homes, gang life. Then, life in haciendas, money, getting educations at universities. But I've never had a family. 80 years, of life and I don't really have anything to show for it. I don't even know if I loved his mother, I've never been around it and I sure as shit know I've never been in love prior. Nothing to show for it, except Brent. And I don't even really have that." He opened his mouth to say something else, but simply sighed.


"Which way is your office?"
 
Carter took the paper and listened to Dolos’ explanation. While the sergeant wasn’t prone to fits of mushy language, he tried to give people a fair chance and listen. Half the time, that was all that people needed to course correct. (The other half, brute force in one form or another was likely required.) Dolos’ eagerness showed how important this was to him: this wasn’t just a sympathy play. Besides, every meta knew that look, or something like it. If you were lucky, it didn’t come from someone you cared about.


He still took this in silent stride, though. Dolos was a con man, and it was possible this was a long-term play. But the words at the door sounded different, and by the way Dolos changed the subject, he was fairly certain they were sincere. Or extra embellishment of the story he was playing out. The age, though. Eighty? It made Carter blink once out of Dolos’ vision.


He said nothing until they neared his office. The room was small but functional and had nothing personal in it yet aside from a few papers on the Sergeant’s desk that resembled the equivalent of office junk mail. It could have been an open office - and it had been, until a day ago. He spoke casually as he stepped to his computer, keying in his password. When he saw his email, he frowned, but quickly changed tracks, speaking casually to Dolos. “Each person here has a history. Some of us have family, some don’t. Some wish we didn’t.” He paused to look up and meet the other man’s gaze. “But those who stay with Atlas… we’ve chosen a family. Dysfunctional as it might be.”


He pulled up a new window and authored an email, referencing Dolos’ hand-written notes on the names and account numbers. When he was finished, he shut the system down. “Now… let’s get you some gloves.”


~ * ^ * ~


He and Dolos arrived at the training room promptly at 1300 to find the others waiting. Snapshot’s absence was obvious, and Vanburen confirmed what Carter suspected: he wouldn’t be seeing Snapshot for a while, except possibly when he got called into the Colonel’s office. Drexler speaking with him was inevitable, it was just a question of whether Xavier would be present or not when he did. When Vanburen pulled him aside, Mark also provided an update on the “conversation” the two had had at lunch. Carter’s outward expression remained neutral. “I got your email as well. After the tour, you and I will chat. For right now, let’s focus on the team.”


Then he turned to the others, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention and projecting to fill the room. “All right! You’ve seen the mess hall. We’re going to take a little tour of the rest of the facility.” He handed out badges to each of them, thin cards with their photo on the front. Each had a small alligator clip on it. “Keep these with you at all times. They’ll serve as ID and your access throughout the facility. If you get stuck somewhere inside the facility without it, you may have to wait for someone to come get you.“ He paused when he handed Janice - Lady Jane, he corrected himself internally - her badge. Someone had brought her wheelchair in. He motioned to it. “You’re welcome to ride if you want. Ivan, will… one of you … push her if she so chooses?”


He left it to Janice to decide whether she wanted to ride or walk. As it was, the poor woman looked like her eyelids were lead-weighted. He could only imagine how much she was going to be hurting tomorrow.


As he walked, he explained the layout, leading them through the facility and pointing out minor things like break rooms, closest bathrooms, and the paths back to the major hallways and landmarks as they went. “Most find it confusing at first because the building’s narrow, which forced some weird hallway configurations. But the gist is main floor - the one you came in on, has offices, conference rooms, and the basic training areas like this one. The Mess hall bridges both floors. Below us are quarters and some specialized training rooms. We’ll be visiting one of those tomorrow. Note that some of those are off limits, as is a section furthest away from the elevator. They’re clearly labeled as ‘authorized personnel only’.”


The tour covered the facility, including pointing out their individually assigned quarters, and eventually brought them full circle to the training area. “Now. I know this is the first day, and we could run drills, or swim laps, or start with firearms training. We could do the goddamn ‘fall and catch each other’ exercise. But here’s the thing: you’re not teenagers joining varsity softball, and although many of you can use physical training, I want to see what you can do - together.


“So tomorrow you’ll be facing a simulated battle scenario. As a team. Your task today is to prepare. You can prepare individually if you so choose, but I’d advise against it. Learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Make recommendations. Help each other learn the basics, practice working together. Choose weapons suited for a fight - because you’ll be in one tomorrow.”


Feeling his phone buzz, he pulled it out and looked at the screen for a moment. “I’ll be back in a bit. Marksman - you know where everything is if they have questions. Otherwise, I suggest you get to work.” He nodded to Vanburen and looked at Dolos before heading out the door toward the Colonel’s office.
 
Mark wasn't sure what to make of Carter's reaction to Mark and Xavier's "conversation." Carter's face gave no indication towards his mood on the matter nor did his words. He wasn't sure if he was to expect a reprimand or a high five when they spoke later. However Carter chose to respond to Mark's news would be a good indication for what the future on this team would hod, Mark thought.


As the tour began, Mark placed himself towards the rear of the group in order to make sure that no one got trapped or lost. He had walked the premises hundreds of times prior and would hundreds of times later. The building itself was unimpressive. After all, with limited space the decision was made early on in the Project's life-cycle to focus on utility rather appeasement on the eyes. It was the logical decision to make, but Mark would be lying to himself he wouldn't like to see the place spruced up. Mark zoned out all of Carter's talk while walking on the tour. "This here is the is the blah blah blah and blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah..." It was the same thing Mark had heard when he first joined the Project several years ago. Instead of listening, he found himself watching the other team members. He noted who stayed close to who, who spoke to who, and what others attitudes seemed to be towards each other. It was important to take note of who was bonding with who.


When Carter reached the end of the tour stopping at the training area, Mark zoned back into to Carter's speech. He nodded with what Carter's statements. Working together, not alone, would be the best in this situation. They had spent the morning honing individual skills, now was the time to see them in action together. As Carter finished his remarks, he left with a nod to both Mark and Dolos. Mark made a note of the nod to Dolos. It seemed to be one of respect and...perhaps trust? Mark didn't know what conversation occurred between Dolos and Carter, but it certainly seemed to have changed Carter's attitude towards Dolos.


Looking to the others, Mark stated his current thoughts on their next steps. "Well, I think it would be a good idea to pair up with each other for some hand to hand combat, self-defense and martial arts. I know several of you have a solid foundation in these areas while some of you have yet to begin. We pair up and spare with each other. Those who are not familiar with these fighting techniques can team up with someone who already is experienced, and they can help you get a base foundation. Then, we'll split into two teams and have ourselves a large-scale sparring match. We'll get those unfamiliar with these areas experience and a starting point to grow on, while those of us who have experience will get to maybe spare with someone more advanced than we are used to. Any objections?"
 
(Was in the process of posting this, so a little out of order)


Janice opted for getting wheeled about (by the cute guy) with a smile if Ivan was willing. Every now and then she would take a deep breath and let it out. She was actually well versed in operating under the effects of sleep deprivation. And she was accustomed to long gruelling hours of physical labor. When a region was suffering from a drought and needed a well, complaining and sloth did not speed the digging of a well.


The tour was brief and to the point - a fact for which she was grateful. She still thought the place was built like a tomb. A morbid part of her wondered if that was by design.


As Carter went about describing his ideas for preparation for the next day’s activities she could help but be a little confused. Who were they supposed to be fighting? Was it to be an armed conflict? She was trained mainly in martial arts combat - not guns. Oh she had had PLENTY of exposure to military weaponry of all sorts - far more than she really cared for. And she was hardly the ninja monkey.


Janice’s idea of fighting against armed men was to avoid the conflict. Oh certainly she had gone 1 on 6 with some armed militants - but they had been in immediate proximity and taken by surprise. She took them down before they knew what hit them. The hard part had been preventing a reprisal.


This, she suspected was going to be very different. “Okay, I’ll shoot - no pun intended. Agent Vanderbilt? Can you give us an idea of the sort of scenario you have in mind? I mean … terrain, region, possibly enemy forces - not numbers, just types and ranges of armaments and armors. I am picturing us travelling into some field of desert dunes far from civilization in search of bad guys - or maybe getting ready to do the SWAT thing and storm a building. We’d dress and equip completely differently. At least I would. I am more a melee type, maybe augmented by throwing stars. I don’t normally use guns. However, I could adapt. I DO know how to shoot. And I’ve handled automatic weapons - not by choice mind you.”


“I guess what I am getting at is: are we figuring out what will work .. Okay, I still don’t get the point of what we are supposed to do at this moment. I mean I could try to teach someone a little self defense. But it takes years to get a real skill - not days.”
 
Cedric had been staying in the background and listening for the duration of their lunch, munching on some chips and a sandwich he kept the pepsi he got right in front of him. He listened as the others voiced their own opinions, not saying anything just watching. He was a little perturbed at the way Vanburen pulled Xavier aside, he could tell the poor boy was in for a severe talking to. As they walked away, he tuned in to the other conversations around the room, smirking as he realized this was just like the cafeteria in high school. Everyone sitting with their friends and adding to the tension that made people want to blend in.


After Mark returned from his "conversation" with Xavier, he listened as the group talked about going to central park, at that he perked up central park one a good place to go for a run or even just put on a show. He looked around the group, watching their reactions. Besides that he sat back and waited for a topic he was interested in to pop up, he was a little frustrated with himself because he is nowhere near this shy, but just hadn't gotten out of his shell yet. then again he knew that as much as you have to give others a chance, everything is earned, even speech.


As the group finished up their lunch he silently threw away his trash, and fell in at the back of the group doing his best to remember everything that was being said to them. He made a special note to avoid any areas marked "Authorized personnel only." Next thing he knew they were back in the training room. Cedric scanned the room again listening to the Colonel's orders and summarizied them in his head. "Practice cooperation. Grab a weapon. Got it." He was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to spar with someone with some experience, while he could pull his puinches he always preffered pushing himself. He perked up hearing Janice speak, mostly out of a small bit of surprise.


"But it takes years to get a real skill - not days." Cedric coudln't agree more, in his area of expertise even the most basic skills took at least a month to get down, each. He spoke up, quite aware that he could startle some of the group given that he hasn't spoken for a good while now. "I agree with Janice, not to sound like a jerk or a butthead, but unless you want us to teach a few take-downs, everything else will take more time than we have to master." Cedric met Vanburen's eyes, not really giving off a feeling other than slight curiosity.
 
"It takes years to master a skill, this is correct. People spend decades learning bushido in my homeland." Some may not at this point that bushido is practiced, or predominant, in Japan, while Dolos looked like a run of the mill, long haired, pointy nosed Anglo Saxon.


"Some of those people die doing nothing but living the bushido. But it takes one moment. One comment. A moment like this to show that you do not have the mindset or discipline to follow orders. Sometimes the lesson doesn't lie where you expect it to, nor does it appear in the form you expect it to. Let the leaders lead."


He played with his now-gloved hands, partly to get accustomed to them but also to let anyone who looked now see that he was wearing a thin, almost latex looking material over his hands, with a few vivid blue stripes. He was given pairs of gloves in two forms. The first, these, were for purposes where it was beneficial to have them seen, more for the peace of mind of others than anything. The others were nearly invisible, for real world operations.


When he spoke, he kept his tone measured and calm, he didn't use harsh or aggressive tones, hopefully in a manner that didn't make it sound as if he was chastising anyone. Simply put, generally people led for a reason. You cannot complain about, or attempt to alter someone's way of doing things without even knowing what they are going to do, and why.


Suddenly, he regretted not taking a moment to grab food as his stomach grumbled in annoyance.


 
Moments earlier.


No tampering with security, no messing with control panels and terminals. Those two comments alone probably took half of the fun out of this coffee break for the self-proclaimed computer wunderkind.


Not like he’d have that much fun if he was allowed to tamper with things, though. He’d done his research, he’d read through the information. We will not talk about where he acquired said information, nor what research he did involved. Ivan did his research, and to be honest, there was pathetically little space for anything to be ‘tampered’ or ‘messed with’. Half of it was biological witchcraft which did not belong to Ivan’s territory, and the other half - well, we’d just day just about everything in the other half is Heat-Death-of-the Universe-tier hard to do.


The young man, therefore, spent most of his little lunch break pointlessly wandering about in the Mess Hall, occupying himself with trying to find things to occupy himself with.


As a sidenote, the pizza tasted absolutely terrible.


* * * * *


1300.


Ivan had been standing there for a good while before the time called for all the rest of the team to be gathered at the training area as well - mainly because he had nothing better to do and perhaps decided that he might as well compensate his being late earlier. And a “yes sir” that was almost awkwardly overenthusiasitc was his response when he was asked to push around the wheelchaired teammate, although he did not exactly have knowledge of how precisely that was to be done. Do you always ask before you do something? How fast or slow is an acceptable speed? How do you even stop this thing if it rolls off a slope or something?


His smiled weakly and looked at Janice, who did not seem to notice him much.


* * * * *


Training room.


The tour through the facility was as uneventful as he could imagine, thankfully. Most of the time he was amusing himself by studying the wheelchair silently while the rambles took place. There turned out to be brakes on the handles of the wheelchair, to Ivan’s surprise; and the task of transporting the wheelchaired Lady Jane around the facility was carried out in a fashion that he found to be rather satisfactory.


Returning to the training room, Ivan - along with Janice, on the wheelchair he was pushing, and several other members of the team - were regrouped for a briefing about the upcoming events, what training they were to receive and the sort. It was announced that the training in question was to be hand to hand combat. A sparring match was also scheduled, and a simulated battle scenario to be faced tomorrow.


“several of you have a solid foundation in these areas while some of you have yet to begin," Mark said. Guess which of the two the lanky city boy belonged to, Ivan thought to himself.


The only martial arts training he received was that one semester of boxing back in high school, and that probably didn’t count as combat training. Not like he was actually good at it anyway. And then he was there, listening to three people who he assumed to all be at least rather accomplished if not masters of the trade, disagreeing over mastery and leadership.


This was probably going to be a long day, Ivan thought. He could already feel his back aching.


And what exactly was Bushido, awnyay?
 
It wasn’t so much that Janice was ignoring the cute guy. It was that she kept dozing off, evident by the occasional soft snore. Of course she would awaken almost as quickly stirred to consciousness by her own snore and look around to make sure noone had noticed, trying to nonchalantly check for drool.


The gymnasium was finally reason to stay awake, No more droning of the tour. She had pretty much figure out the layout in a heartbeat. Big hole in the middle for the gym and mess hall. Offices conference rooms on top floor, quarters and special rooms on bottom floor. So someone really had built this place as a form of dungeon.





“What would really help would be some sample situations we might find ourselves in … and set up our training to cover the sorts of skills we’d need to survive those. Maybe some real mission reports - minus all the names and outcomes. I’ve actually had a little experience with multiple metahumans - not fighting them - but seeing them in action. Terrorist group that wanted me to join their cause a few months ago. Of course I was in no shape to answer at the time.


“I think the Sarge’s point is that the bad guys they want us to handle are already out there and causing havoc. So we need to be trained as of yesterday.”
 
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