🌊Slave to Hero🌊

                ❝ Charles. He’s a great man but his faith in humanity blinds him.                  He is either willfully blind to what the humans are willing to do                  us for their own gain or he only cares about the world for his own                   mutants. ❞

A single foot down, each step methodical, every note a gentle pluck at the strings of life; and the cane clanked beside him. You could not help to admire the inventory Doctor McCoy kept here, he himself taking mental note of all the items the scientist had procured; and the cane clanked beside him.

What truly interested him was a subject already strapped to the table, ready for processing; and the cane clanked beside him. There was serenity in her voice, such an earnest calmness for what was to come for her; and the cane clanked beside him.

A full stop over the computer desk displayed scattered documentation and discarded notes. Of course, nothing useful could be found here. “Doctor McCoy has no knowledge of my presence,” words finally spoken, affability dripping from every letter, “it true form, I was looking for him…”

No matter, the presence of Doctor McCoy was no longer required. But her? He would be lying if he did not take a curious approach to the woman.

Female, estimate twenties-to-thirties, negroid by assumption. Homo mutare. Both hands perched on the red-tipped cane while he hovered beside her, assessing the specimen. Straps became loose, slipping of the woman waiting for her tests. “I find conversation in shackles to be… Boring. Sit up, my dear child, tell me your name.”

She certainly wasn’t stupid enough to disobey him, even if he was an intruder. he was one of Apocalypses top men. Using her hands she propped herself up as ordered.

“Don’t see why it matters... Montella. Montella Carver.”

She looked him over. What was his game? Whatever his plan for her, she wouldn’t resist. Resistance was tantamount with a death sentence. Even though life barely seemed worth living as a resident of the pens, she was on her way to being useful to Apocalypse. She just had to bide her time now. Suffer through all the pain to get to her sweet reward at the end. And damn it, the end was in reach. Just a little longer... she’d make it. She had to.

Her scream would have killed those weaker than her…..if she had skill. But even in the raw, purest expression of her new abilities….she had potential. Her call brought several of the clones of the one formerly named Multiple Man to their knees, bodies convulsing as her soundwaves distorted their very culls.

She had survived the good Doctor’s experiments with interesting results; evidently he had been right to appoint McCoy as his new geneticist, after Sinister had fled for parts unknown. She would be a key asset….with her voice, she could fell an army before they knew what was coming.

The X-Men would never stand a chance.

“ Impressive, Montella. There is much work to be done to increase your power….but in the initial stages, you felled soldiers that have fought years to be included into my ranks.

You have strength, child. Your voice alone speaks of it…”

“It is an honor to be praised by you.”

In truth she was more relieved than honored. His approval meant that she was not soon for the chopping block. Far from it. As much as she had cursed his name, his very words could be her salvation.

“I know I am indeed capable of more… Perhaps if Dr. Mccoy refrained from doing harm for the sake of harm, I would be at a higher level already. The time it takes to recover is only increased due to his unnecessary cruelty, my lord. If it helped me improve, I would not mention it. But he slows my progress, and in turn does harm to you.”

“Surprising to see Dr. Mccoy let you take a peek at his work.”

Quentin juts out his chin and glares at the newcomer. ❛ and what exactly made it so terrible, pray-tell, the lack of humans trying to kill us ? or the equal rights ? ❜ they seethed, returning the spray paint to the pocket of their jacket.

“Actually, It was more the being kept as genetic live stock, a slave, and the constant threat of being melted down to my base genetic material if I wasn’t useful.” 

The kid had talent, but the whole, I know it all thing had to stop. They might be a telepath, but they hadn’t even bothered to peek in her head before making their snappy response. Big mistake. Time for the art instructor to teach a little humility for a change.

She was so tired from the Beast’s experiments but her siren shriek had been enough to make every man who he’d thrown at her fall to their knees, completely out cold. Montella had even shown off her vocal suggestion, causing several of her would be attackers to simply kill themselves without question. God, it was horrible, but this was the reality of the world in which they lived. She was there to prove that she was worthy to serve Apocalypse. If she failed, she would be melted down, used for more of the Beast’s experiments, even in death. As she lay on the floor, propped up by her arms, she looked down in submission to her master.

“Not to put a damper on your mutant supremacy, but as someone who came from a universe where a mutant was our overlord, not all it’s cracked up to be.”