Early lessons: Adrian and Matt meet in Guantanamo, under duress

Characters: Matt Cavanaugh and Adrian Prewens
Place: Guantanamo Bay, Cuba
Time: February 10th, 2003
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Adrian is doing some distasteful work for the government

It hadn't taken long at all to figure out that the same stone face that caused so many interesting reactions at home worked in this place too, and Matt simply stared, not quite blankly, not quite with focus, at the man who was ushered into the room he'd been sitting in for the last fifteen minutes. It was small, cinderblock walls, steel door, paintless, furnished with a table, two folding chairs, an ashtray, a mirror that he didn't trust at all, and a spider and a gecko.

The doorknob made an ominous click when the door shut behind the man, a civilian, who'd come in. The corporal who'd brought him in simply gestured into the room and left, and Matt wondered if he was imagining the slight look of contempt around the military man's eyes.

He lit a cigarette, leaning back in the chair and relaxing to take up more space, and continued to stare at the newcomer. Rule two in this place was never to volunteer information. Never to offer anything, never to speak unless spoken to, and to only answer the questions that were asked. If the interrogators weren't smart enough to ask the right questions, that was far from being Matt's problem.

"No funny business Prewens," The man had said, one finger poised under his chin threateningly, "We heard about your little slips back on the front, and if you fry this one God help you...you'll be looking forward to a rubber cell and a beating every day for the rest of your life. Do your fucking job and do it right."

Adrian merely nodded, resisting the urge to give the offending finger a shock, and turned to follow the commander's flicked finger, following a younger man down a dreary hallway and then into the cell. He glanced around it, ignoring the man in the chair at first and scanning the room with his electric eye (located in the tip of his nose and front of his forehead) checking for observation devices. Behind the mirror was the faint pulse of a computer and perhaps a recorder. Someone in there had a walkie talkie, or maybe a cell phone.

He fried it silently before taking his seat (little victories) and studying the other man. Dark brown hair with the remnants of dye at the end, pale green eyes, pale, and about as expressive as the brick walls around them. Adrian sighed internally, checking him under the box as one of those types.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," he said softly, "I'm Adrian. I'll be your inquisitor today," he said softly, folding his hands together, "I have to ask you to please cooperate fully and answer my questions honestly to make this process easier."

The door opened for a moment and two men wheeled a trolley with several car batteries on it. Adrian didn't bother to look away from the other men as they wheeled them just inside the door and then closed it again. There was a click as the lock caught, leaving them alone with each other and the eyes behind the mirror.

Matt grinned. "Nope," he said calmly. "You might be specially sent in, but I'm not feeling any more like joining up than I have."

He glanced at the trolley with the batteries on it, but controlled his curiousity. He'd find out quickly enough, but this did look like it was going to be rather more than question and answer, or a harangue, or the other things they'd done to try to convince him to serve willingly.

Since they couldn't use his power if he were unwilling.

Adrian nodded, "No. It never does go that way." he said standing and going over to the batteries. He set a finger on each pole of the first and watched the meter on the top empty slowly as the charge passed effortlessly into his body; drawn by forces he didn't fully understand himself. He sighed, feeling a familiar strength storing throughout his skin and muscles, making him feel more alive; more awake.

"We don't have to do it this way, Mr. Cavanaugh." he said softly, "But you know that. I don't know what they've done to you here but over seas the Geneva Convention's just another rag to shit on. Kinda like the Constitution," he said conversationally, grudgingly, "And its only getting more popular."

He drained the fifth and final battery and turned to face the other man again, his eyes now a much brighter, almost shining green, and took his seat, "So. Should I bother to ask you to please cooperate again?"

It was much harder to remain still and stone-faced when he noted how dramatically the other man's eyes had changed - now they glowed, like the eyes of the deer that he startled sometimes at night in the Wasatch. Or like Pattin's, in the middle of the night when Matt reached out a lazy hand to pet him.

And the assumption he could make, given what Adrian had been doing before he returned to his seat, was more than slightly chilling.

"It's about like that here," he said finally. "Not that we're subject to any kind of law, so it's a bit funny to hear you use words like 'constitution' and 'Geneva Convention'. It's been so long since I heard those that it makes me homesick." He tapped the cigarette in the ashtray, but kept his eyes on the other man, wariness entering his own.

"I'm an E-FASM." Adrian said softly, seeing the slight change in the other man's eyes and feeling a horrified sinking in the pit of his stomach. He pushed it away, "Energy-field sensor and manipulator. Class A...Electric. The men in my unit call me the 'Battery'. Or they do now anyway. Hard to call a man 'Fag' when you've seen what he can do with a couple AA's." he smirked very slightly, then sobered.

"From what I've been told they haven't done much more than give you little slaps on the wrist, Mr. Cavanaugh. Compared to whats going on elsewhere anyway." he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands together as if they were cold, letting little flickers of electricity flash between them with tiny cracks as he did so, "What I'm supposed to do to you." he added softly, "What I would really rather not have to do, anyway."

"Don't try to play nice," Matt said bluntly, his voice cold - angry at the very small flinch the lightning bolts had provoked. "Just...do whatever the hell it is you're going to do, let me say that I'm still not enlisting, and then we can go about our own business. I don't want to be a killer."

Something shifted in his voice as he leaned back and looked at the other man. "Unlike you, apparently," he added, with a smile that was all sharp points. "But I'm not useful as a torturer, so I suppose I get that choice at least. And why did you consent to this? Going to tell me they've got a gun to your head?"

"Yes. Not that I think you'd care." Adrian said softly, "But a gun doesn't begin to cover it. There's a special, rubber room set up for me here with all sorts of toys you can't even begin to imagine. They haven't taken you there yet...you can still sit and walk without flinching."

Adrian glanced at the ,irror, "I'm useful as a torturer because I'm more precise, and don't leave marks. I could pump all five car-batteries worth of electricity into you by just putting my hand on your's. Your muscles would seize and you wouldn't be able to pull away, and in the end you're brain would melt from the force of it and your heart will explode, but not before you chipped your teeth or bit off your tongue and starting smoking at the edges. It doesn't take long though."

He said it all casually, calmly, as if it were something he'd seen happen a million times before; casually holding someone's hand as he gently forced death down their arm. His eyes were distant, as if they were looking in from a long way off and couldn't entirely believe what was being described.

He turned them back on Matt, "I could do that, if you'd like." he whispered, too low to be heard, "They get angry, when I kill people without getting answers first, but if you really don't want to be a murderer...they'll break you eventually, Mr. Cavanaugh. Hell. It might even be me who does it. And I don't want that on my conscience. Your corpse would be easier to bear." he flashed a grimace that might have been mistaken for a smile on a corpse and then glanced at the mirror again, "What is your power, Mr. Cavanaugh? Why do they want you so badly?"

His voice had gone suddenly low, as if considering something that hadn't occurred to him before. His eyes flashed emerald with a sudden bolt of energy.

"I kill people," Matt said, refusing to elaborate. The other man's eyes had startled him even more badly than the first time he'd noted their colour.

But the fear was mixed with sympathy, slight though it was yet.

"That should tell you enough to tell you why they want me," he added, unable to think of cogent things to say, in the thought of what could happen to him if the other man touched him. "Look, what happens if you don't decide to see if you can make my eyes pop out of my skull? I mean, to you."

"We go through the motions. I make you scream, beg a little, and if you break I get a commendation and sent to the next...person." the last word came out more than a little painfully, "Ultimately... nothing. If I do my job they don't do to me what I do to you. I get nothing from this except more time outside the Room."

He frowned, "Its not a question if I can, Mr. Cavanaugh. I can. Its a question of if you ask me to. Some do. I give them what I can." his voice faltered again, "Or...it could depend on whether I think killing you would be worth the beating. What do you mean...kill people?" his eyes narrowed, "I can kill people Mr. Cavanaugh. I have. I'll have to again. But only in my defense...or to help them. Why do you? How?"

"I don't," Matt said, angry enough that his hands slapped down on the table and he leaped away, the chair clattering over. "I don't want to, that's why I won't enlist, you utter idiot. Are you stupid? My power kills, not me. I am not a killer." His voice was fierce as he glared at Adrian.

"If you want sympathy," he said finally, quieter, "you've got it. I don't envy you. I'm glad I'm not you, in fact. But if you're trying to convince me that life is better for you and me both if I just agree to go overseas, save it. I've been in this place too long to give up now. But what I wanted to know was what happens if you don't...discharge, I guess." A very grim smile. "How bad will this be, for me?"

Adrian eyed him, "Bad." he said honestly, "But not as bad as it could be. You don't deserve this...as far as I know. But I can carry this charge in my body indefinitely, as far as I know. Hell. I can hold several lightning strikes for at least a weak. It’s never been a problem. And," he said more calmly, "The angrier to get the faster we'll have to get to this unpleasantness. I don't want your pity. I want to not have to hurt you, Mr. Cavanaugh."

He glanced at the mirror, "You'll give in eventually Mr. Cavanaugh. I promise. For whatever reason you use to justify it. You'll break, Mr. Cavanaugh. If hurting you doesn't work...they'll go after your family, your friends, your loved ones." he said it calmly, but there was a hint of pleading in his voice, "Don't make this happen."

"I'll make it happen if I fucking well want," Matt said in a growl. "I'm not going to stop being me just for you, or them, or anyone else, and I am not going overseas."

Adrian sighed and stood, fingers splayed on the table, "They didn't bind you." he said, coming around the table, "You can resist if you want. It won't really matter. I think there's probably a pool to see if you'll kill me or not. If thats what your power really does."

He slid closer, pulling the energy into his skin, "Are you ready?"

"No," he said shortly. "Does it matter?"

His fingers didn't itch. He didn't want to kill this man, had absolutely no interest in even trying it, and he held his hands at his sides, the cigarette smouldering in his mouth as he watched Adrian get closer.

Backing slowly away. Backing around the small room, hoping that he'd never get trapped in a corner. But he couldn't kill Adrian, didn't want to, wasn't going to enlist - there were no other options.

"No," Adrian said sadly, and when he was in range he struck, sending a wild pulse of energy through the mirror even as he grabbed the cheap metal chair and threw it through the glass. He saw a lap top smoking on the table, next to a dead cell. The man at the computer seeming shocked as he came through the broken glass, feeling one edge catch his arm as he reached through and snatched at him. He felt the brush of skin and delivered a shock: not enough to kill but definitely enough to stun him.

The man behind the first, dressed as if ready for a normal day at the office, tried to call through the walkie-talkie, but it had been fried with the pulse Adrian had shot at them. When it didn't work his slammed on the door. Behind him Adrian could hear the entrance to the room opening, the firing of a gun and the slamming pain of a special stun bullet, slam into his lower back. Soldiers entered the room, swarming in a second. Two dragged him to his feet and he shocked them in panic, and they fell back in panic. The next, however, were prepared, and their rubber gloves clenched hard around his wrist, even as another fist drove into his stomach, doubling him over. A club slammed over the back of his neck, making him see stars a flash of black.

He felt them dragging him out of the room. He glanced up, catching Matt's eye and smiled painfully through the crowd of guards, guns held on them both. "Good lu-" he croaked as they crossed the threshold, another blow cutting his words off and drawing another flash of stars. The commander was waiting outside, arms crossed.

"Stupid, Prewens. Had a feeling you might do something like that. Rubber room." He snapped at the men holding him and he felt himself lifted again and stumbled along, in their insulated grip.

He'd tortured people. Hurt them. Done unspeakable things to them. Killed. But he'd be damned if he was about to give them another soldier to do the same or more.

In the chaos, they'd left the door open, and the only soldier in position to stop him was clearly distracted; it wasn't fancy, when Matt hit him in the face with the heel of his hand, hoping that he hadn't just killed someone - that would be ironic - but not willing to let Adrian disappear for nothing.

His fingers did itch now, as he closed the distance between the soldiers and himself, and he reached, summoning...a coil of wire.

There were times, he thought, that things could have been more explicitly useful. But he wasn't entirely stupid, and he uncoiled enough of it to hopefully do some good.

Dropping the bulk of the wire - it was copper - around the shoulders of the closest soldier who had a grip on Adrian, he reached out with the other end, everything taking only seconds to do though it felt so much longer, and stabbed it at the inquisitor, hoping he had enough charge left to shock the man. If Matt couldn't use his powers to get a weapon, he would by god use someone else's to get one, and he danced away, letting go of the wire and making a grab for the gun in the soldier's holster.

He waited until the hand was safely away before delivering the bolt; a lethal dose. It really didn't take much to overwhelm the human heart, but when the man jerked in suprise the reast of the charge trailed off. Adrian reached up and snatched at the other man, snatching his ear and delivering another bolt, this one to stun.

It didn't stop the ear from burning in his hand, and ripping off as the man fell and Adrian kept a firm grasp on it.

Adrian let out a yell as the third guard slammed his club against his neck again, knocking him to his knees. A knee to the face didn't give enough contact for another shock.

He wasn't a fighter; he was a surprise attacker, and that didn't stop him from grabbing the man between the legs and delivering a stream of energy that made him wail in shock and pain, metal zippers being so wonderfully conductive.

He heard the click of a safety turning off and looked up the barrel of a hand gun the commander had turned to his face, "Stop." he said in frozen tones and Adrian turned to see what he was talking about.

Matt held the gun he'd liberated with equal stillness, and the grip of a man who knew how to shoot, held it aimed at the commander's head.

And somehow it looked casual. Somehow it looked like he was committed to killing this way, even if he wouldn't the other way.

"I think," he said, "you'll be in a lot more trouble than I will if you shoot your pet torturer. You might want to reconsider. Let him go."

"I think," The other man said, pressing the muzzle into his head, "His death could be easily covered, and you have no where to run, Mr. Cavanaugh. And I think..." he said, licking his lips, "You will feel much worse than I if this man dies trying to help you." he smiled, "How about you put down the gun and I don't send him to his special room? And you, Mr. Cavanaugh, won't be tied down, splay-legged, in the showers tomorrow morning?"

Adrian flinched as the muzzle pressed close to the neck. He could send a charge through it, yes, but the danger that it would go off when the current tensed the other man's muscles was too big a risk. He gazed at Matt carefully, surprised at how little he cared all of the sudden.

One bullet to the head, and no more. Either way he might actually win.

Matt grinned, a smile like a rictus. He reversed the grip on the gun and pointed it at his own head.

"Either way," he said softly, "I win. Let him go."

"You're nuts." the commander said softly, and smiled, "But not too bright. You've no where to run, Mr. Cavanaugh. You won't make it out of here." He moved the gun, only to have it replaced by a single red dot in the middle of Adrian's forehead, "Even if we didn't already have you. So please, kill yourself Mr. Cavanaugh. We can afford one dead mutant, but we're going to be keeping Mr. Prewens."

Another two guards appeared at the end of the hall, and guns ready, coming to flank the commander, who smiled like winter, "We're going to keep him a long time. No permanent damage of course, but his kind need to learn. Sorry," his eyes narrowed, "Your kind. Give in Mr. Cavanaugh. Maybe I'll have them go easy on him. And you."

He'd been neatly outmaneuvered, but he could still do one thing - for he would not kill himself, not when it would only guarantee Adrian a beating.

He shifted his aim, and fired into the wall near the approaching guards, a shot clearly designed to miss - and to provoke.

"Fuck you, GI," he said with a grin, as the smoke moved past his face with its distinctive scent. "The next shot doesn't miss. And maybe if you kill both of us, we'll both feel better."

"Stop," The commander said calmly, raising his hand, gazing at Matt, "He wants you to. And we're not in the habit of catering to our guests, now are we?" he said coldly, "So shoot Matthew. But Adrian doesn't want to die, does he?" he pressed the muzzle of the gun into the kneeling man's neck, "How much does Adrian want to die?"

"This much." he whispered, releasing the shock. The commander screamed once, jerked his hand and shot Adrian cleanly in the shoulder, making his screams rise up with his own. The guards opened fire: stunning, rubber bullets meant to put them down and not kill them.

The sniper's dot moved and he shot for Matt's leg, but missed in the sudden move. Another guard jumped Adrian, rubber gloved hands pressing his face into the concrete.

"Don't call me Matthew, motherfucker," Matt snarled as he fired again, hitting the commander in the hip as the other man moved frantically.

He saw Adrian hit the ground; the guards that had him were wearing rubber gloves, which meant he couldn't hurt them, and Matt aimed at them, hoping for a clear shot that wouldn't get Adrian.

And then he was falling backwards as one of the bullets hit him in the chest, the sting of pain sharp and hard, and maybe, he thought, breaking a rib. The gun clattered from his hand as he hit the floor, his fingers jerking involuntarily right before they fell from the guard and a report came, but he had no idea where the gun had fired in the haze of pain that held him.