My Two Dads
|My Two Dads|
|Date of Cutscene:||06 September 2017|
|Cast of Characters:||Doctor Doom, Madelyne Pryor, Sinister|
Clean. Sterile. Orderly. Bright.
These are the adjectives chosen to best describe the interior of the emergence center, but they aptly fit the man spearheading the efforts within them. The room is trapezoidal, left and right walls leaning in towards the higher than average ceiling, and everything is bordered in a simple, unfussy gray-beige polymer alloy over darker gray walls. It's amazing how fast the facility went up, but when one has machinery and mutant powers, the impossible is possible, and done in a fraction of the time mere humans could ever hope to achieve.
Samples inside glass cases are clearly labelled and line the walls in recessed, back-lit glass enclosures. To the left are flat examination tables, beige metal with pristine white pads. Devices like mechanical spiders hang above them, possession dozens of legs ending in medical tools ranging from syringes to lasers. Cabinets behind contain unknown things behind their beige surfaces, countertops and sink behind white.
To the back, away from the primary entranceway, are glass cylinders big enough to gestate whole individuals ranging from as small as an infant to as large as a Hulk. Control panels and cables are recessed into the walls around. To the right near the walls are tables, chairs and a couch, set up more like that of a therapist's office, or a waiting room for small children. The floors are pristine white tile. Everything is white glove perfection.
The door to the laboratory unlocks and slides open into the walls. Standing behind it is a well-dressed man in black suit and white shirt, leather boots, cummerbund. Slicked back black hair, Riker beard, red diamond on his forehead among milk white skin. "Everything is as you've requested, Doctor. I think you'll be pleased with the results."
Doctor Doom stands in his armor, of course, the green cloak flowing down his shoulders as he looks around the clinical purity of the laboratory. He says simply, "I would hope so. I do not handle disappointments very well." He doesn't sound threatening, rather it's just a statement of fact. Still, he seems somewhat... respectful, of Sinister here, regarding him more as a peer than a minion, of course.
"So far the clone is viable and the gestation has reached a sufficient state for decanting," Sinister explains as he walks over to the single filled tank at the moment. The pseudo-amino compounds in the LCL have functioned in place of a placenta, a clone gestated from zygote without any need for a mother.
Not really the way Sinister likes to do things - nurture is as important as nature in determining the genetic destiny of an individual - but this will have to do.
Doom nods slightly, "Excellent. I realize this is a bit of a rush, Sinister, but I have my reasons. She is the key to something far greater than even the formidable mutant abilities of her predecessor."
He then glances over towards Sinister, "There won't be any difficulties, will there? If more time //is// required, I would rather know now than have to deal with the consequences of failure."
The tank's occupant flows quietly, the child curled into a fetal position as she floats. Soft wisps of crimson hair shift and curl slowly with the currents of the tank, floating free as she floats. At peace, apparently, though she occasionally squirms or twitches, as if having a dream. Her eyes are still closed, however...not aware of the world outside the tank, other than the sounds that Sinister has allowed to reach her.
"She could enter the world in this state now, but she will require the usual care and education that a child requires," Sinister explains, going to the control panel. Entering access codes, he initializes decanting.
"Subject Zero One Beginning Decanting Process Now." chimes an artificial voice from speakers overhead.
"Have you made any decisions as to the nurturing of the subject? Education? Environment? Mothering substitute?" Essex asks plainly. "She will not develop properly unless we give her a female influence, preferably some kind of mother figure." The audience will have to forgive him - he is a Victorian Imperialist after all.
Doom smiles faintly, "I do have some ideas in this regard, as a matter of fact. She would be surprisingly suitable, I believe. Private tutoring and education, as I would not wish her origins to be revealed prematurely." He glances over towards Sinister, "Though, she might be inserted covertly into the school system here, if opportunity allows." Because, well, the nice thing about controlling an authoritarian culture, the law is what you say it is.
There's a ripple in the liquid, bubbles streaming up for a moment from the bottom, before the liquid level begins to lower, slowly. The child stir, growing more agitated as the she's gradually lowered, down and down, as the good inside disappears down small drains. Until the child is left behind, like a seashell on the beach, kicking, then making a gurgling sound as she tries to cough, her tiny lungs trying to clear the oxygenated mixture inside them as she kicks and starts to squirm, distressed by this new, strange feeling of being exposed to the air.
Sinister reaches for a perfectly white towel, pre-warmed, waiting on a table nearby. He opens the tube, invisible seams becoming visible as a door recesses and slides glass off to the right.
Kneeling near the child, he reaches in with the towel, wrapping her with it, swaddling her gently for comfort, picking her up tenderly, holding her in his arms.
He was a father once. Some things become muscle memory no matter how much one's mind changes.
"Ahhh, shhh, there there, little one," he soothes softly. "Welcome to life."
Doom nods slightly, "Impressive." At what, he doesn't exactly clarify, though perhaps he has his own internal thoughts regarding Valeria, as he does have some experience with 'fatherhood', much as he might never admit it.
Doom then looks at Sinister, "I will defer to you in naming the girl." He smiles slightly as it seems to be a success. At least so far.
The small girl has finally cleared her lungs, before announcing her displeasure with this new state of affairs with a strong wail of disapproval, wiggling in Sinister's hands as she's lifted up, squirming then settling a bit as the warmer towel is wrapped around her slightly slimy skin, still dripping with the fluids from the pod. Her eyes squint, then open...beautiful green eyes, emerald in color, as she blinks at the new world around her. The shushing seems to calm her...or perhaps it's just being held.
"My wife and I had decided that should our second child be a girl, we'd name it Madelyn," Sinister explains. "I think it's a fine name to use, and given her incredible potential, I feel secure in bestowing it on her."
"Very well then. Madelyn. A last name can be decided according to strategic facility." He looks down at her and smiles, and telepathically reaches out to her to provide her with reassurance, and psionic support. Like a tiny plant climbing towards the sun, Madelyn's mind is unfolding and developing as it should. Nathaniel provides a 'scaffolding' to support it, much like a mother's heartbeat can steady and regulate a newborn's.
The baby coos, her eyes blinking, then slipping closed again as she calms at the touch in her mind soothing her and soon she's back to sleep, leaving it to her 'parents' to decide what her life will be next.