<<< Algorithm, Havok

March 1, 2011

Mid-Day

The commute from the Institute into the City was always something of a chore enough so to make him entertain the notion of maybe getting his own apartment in town. Of course this thought was dispersed nearly as soon as it entered Doug's mind. Xaviers was his home and even though he had made strides into equating himself back into the normal world of nine to five jobs, and taxes, and collared shirts with ties the translator considered himself an X-man still above everything else. The school was where he belonged and the fact that Kitty still resided just a few doors down from his own well... that was just icing. Doug Ramsey was starting to debate whether a man could balance two worlds while walking one line. Could he be the successful man of business, gainfully employed with Braddock Industries and on the way up and still be Cypher, still be a useful component to a team and entity, still be relevant and still be himself. Or was someone who tried to live with one foot in two worlds only destined to lose them both if he had to choose right now in this moment could he?

He couldn't imagine his life without the X-men, without Kitty, without Xaviers and all the north Salem school. At the same time he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed his job and especially his boss, Betsy Braddock, she was becoming more than a mentor to him she was becoming a friend and opening his eyes and ears to so many things that had been on shelves out of his reach. The feeling of being important, of being needed, was something like a potent highly addictive drug and Doug was liking the fix. He liked the responsibility and camaraderie, he liked for once being the alpha in a room of people and having people look to him for answers. Was he in danger of becoming a glutton for power? God he hoped not. He felt he had too many people around him to keep him grounded, too much good soil he had deep roots in to let his head get too big for his body. It was a balance act that was all, a job of keeping all the plates spinning on all their poles until the time came when he had to make a choice. Thankfully that day was not today.

He took a taxi through the rain soaked streets and the wipers on the small cab beat out a rhythm of sound against the rain. Betsy had given him the afternoon off when he had told her he had had business in Mutant town, his beautiful boss had been a measure of class, even offering him a car and driver if he wanted which he politely turned down. He didn't want to abuse her generosity and somewhere in his mind he knew he wanted to keep his worlds separate, even if they had started and were probably destined to bleed into one another. It was a dreary rainy New York day, a day that reminded all those that lived in the north East that winter was a far cry from being over no matter what Puxitunney Phil had predicted. Doug was no stranger to the late northeaster blowing in a drooping snow and cold mess even late into early spring. The gray foreboding sky and accompanying showers reminded him of scenes from old Noir movies, and soon he found himself daydreaming the cab ride away with thoughts of himself as some dashing detective like Robert Mitchum with Kitty as some brash fatale like Ava Gardner. He was just at the part where he grabbed her by her shoulders and told her that no one was going to hurt her when the driver called him to attention. They had arrived.

He paid his fare and tipped the driver and then dashed from the inside of the taxi into the offices of X-Factor. It took ten seconds; he was drenched. He stood in the entrance of the agency for a moment dripping, messenger bag saddled to his side. He wondered why he had been called to X-Factor. While the connections between Xaviers and the Factor were vast and even related by DNA it was still a bit odd. Teople tended to show up at the school from here Doug was almost surprised to learn that transportation ran the other way as well. He wasn't kept waiting long, a pretty secretary walked him directly to their directors office, one Alex Summers whom everyone called Havok but whom Scott called brother. Having been an only child Doug wondered what that was like. Having a relation so much like you and trying to do the same kinda good in his own way and still..... Scott Summers cast a large shadow. It was intimidating even to someone like Doug who looked up to the man as a mentor but had no greater ties than that. Being Scott's brother had to have it's perks but it surely had to have it's challenges to.

He opened the door to the man's office and walked in.

"I got word you wanted to see me Alex. Said there was something I could help with?"

Doug suddenly felt small. It was no secret all the work X-Factor had been involved in recently, the working withe SHIELD, the efforts to protect Mutant Town, take down Magneto and Murderworld. With Scott and the rest of the X-men there was something to relate to, they were all students whether past, present, or future of Xaviers, they were all learning to be a part of one cause. Doug didn't have that camaraderie with Alex or the Factor and it was a bit... intimidating.

"I'm a little surprised to be here. I mean I never get asked to do anything. Scott seldom asks me for anything. He doesn't really have to, the guy says more with a glare than most do with words. Of course it's not really a glare per say, cause you know with the visor and glasses and everything. Really there is now way of telling if he is glaring or not. I guess a person might be able to judge if he took them off of course than they'd probably get killed by the incoming blast so it probably wouldn't matter if he was glaring or not cause you know....dead."

Realizing he was rambling Doug tried to stop himself but like a rapid river once going the linguist really didn't have an off switch. People handled their nerves in different ways, some fidgeted, bit their fingernails, Doug he rambled.

"Is this your fiance?"

He asked noticing a picture on Alex's desk. the woman was gorgeous, a beautiful face off set by shocking green hair that only added to her looks instead of shocking away from them.

"She's really pretty. You must feel very lucky, of course your a Summers comes with the territory. You know 'with a name like Summers'... That was a play on the Smuckers jams commercial. They you know have the jingle with a name like Smuckers it has to be good and Smuckers.. Summers... And your a Summers and so is Scott, of course so is Suzanne Summers so that probably kills the joke. I mean nothing against Suzanne Summers, it's just using a thigh master I'm pretty sure isn't a real mutant power then again I've never used a thigh master so..."

Running out of steam and realizing he had thoroughly embarrassed himself Doug finally stopped.

"So....there was something I could help you with."

As the verbal tsunami subsided, Alex found himself smiling at the younger mutant, who really wasn't that much younger than he was. "Doug, calm down, calm down." He stood up and indicated the seat in front of his desk, "Sit, please, and relax. Scotty, as you've pointed out, is the intimidating Summers. Me? I'm many things but I am not Scott. So, just take a breath, relax, and, by the way, if it ever comes out that I am related to Suzanne Summers, you can shoot me in the head. Everyone knows that it was all about Joyce DeWitt. Tell me Jack Tripper wasn't tapping it, amirite?" He looked at the picture of Lorna and smiled, "Yeah, that's my girl, that's Lorna. She'd give Janet a run for her money, I think."

He smirked and shook his head. "Sorry, I thinking your rambling is contagious. Look, you're right, there is something I want you to do for me, and I don't know how to ask you this, but I need you to keep this from Scott for a while. Whatever it is that you find, I need you to tell me first, and I'll figure out how to tell Scott about it, ok?"

Taking a deep breath, he pushed a folder towards Doug, a photo on top of it, of a boy no older than ten, brown hair slightly too long, body too thin, too small for the big white hospital bed he was in. There were deep bruises around his eyes, and in the hollows of his cheeks, and the amount of machinery around him suggested that this little boy was not just sleeping. "That's Scott," Alex said, a note in his voice that was unlike the rest of the joking casual manner of his speech. "Sometime after the accident that killed our parents. He was in a coma for a year. I don't know how much he told you guys about what happened to him, but yeah, he was pretty badly hurt. They told me he was ... well, I was four. I didn't know he was..."

His voice trailed off and he flipped open the folder to reveal another picture of a frightened little blond boy, "That's me. I don't remember this picture being taken, but it was found in a laboratory under an orphanage, with a bunch of dead experiments, animals that someone was trying to turn into to God knows what... and this folder, this folder and hundreds of others, written in some weird indecipherable shorthandy code."

He looked up at Cypher, "I need to know what the hell this says. I need to know if someone messed with Scott and me when we were little, and if so, who was it, and what did they do to us. Because if this guy is still out there, is he still doing this to other kids? If so, I have to stop it. Not just for those kids, as selfish as that might sound, I have to do it for Scott."

It was hard to remain uncomfortable with the ease at which Alex took him into his confidence. Banter went a long way with Doug, communication was his greatest strength and also his Achilles heel. Words were all he had, so much so, that he would use them to cover over all the insecurity and physical things he was lacking in. Hence why he rambled when he was nervous, or when he was excited or at any given point during and feet of almost any emotion be it great or small. He simply was someone who talked too much, except for right now when Alex slid the folder across the desk to him and Doug was struck by the weight of history.

The history of the Summers brothers was Xavier folklore, embellished and established by students over the years to explain the powerhouse strict presence of Scott Summers. If Scott was the accomplished imposing father figure it appeared that Alex was more the easier going Uncle type, someone who probably darted across the lines instead of following them directly from point A to point B. Two sides of one genetic coin, but both men with big hearts and purpose. So much so that the physical evidence of a young, helpless Cyclops threw Doug for a loop. Theoretically it made no sense for the leader of the X-men to arrive fully formed and together like some figure out of Greek mythology and yet just as improbable as that was imagining a Scott Summers unable to fend for himself and be a leader in his own environment seemed equally fantastical. Still it was hard to argue with physical evidence and Doug took the documents in his hand studying the picture first and then the scripted forms.

"Not a lot. I mean we've all heard how you both lost your parents. How the professor found Scott helped him become one of the first X-men, but a lot of that has become grander in the passing. I mean, you know Scott, it's kinda hard to imagine him as anything other than Cyclops, all together all the time. Some people you never, I mean, Scott as a victim it's just...."

His words died off as he looked over the strange papers accompanying the photo. The text was random, a code of symbols and numbers, and to anyone lacking the proper Rosetta stone probably useless, but Doug's mind was his own Rosetta stone and in seconds the strange writing on the paper changed to his eyes reading out like regular English. Reading it would not be the problem he realized two sentences in, understanding it and stomaching it would.

"I can't.. I mean, I can read it. I can sit here and tell you every word that's locked in code but I don't know if you'll understand it anymore than me. It's all in medical text, and Jesus, it goes into pretty graphic detail. People actually did this... to other people...."

His stomach started to knot and as grotesque images invaded his mind, of science used to torture, to take creation out of God's hands and make it something monstrous Doug thought he might become sick.

He pushed the folder away from him.

"I don't know if I can do this Alex. I'm sorry. it's just.... it's all real isn't it? What this stuff is saying? It gives details, stuff that Hannibal Lector would feel squeamish about writing and next to formulas and procedures its all just awful awful details of what happened to these poor people. There are a lot of names here not just Scott's. And the author seems to use a lot of aliases, almost as if each event requires a different persona, or worse, it's all one persona masking under different faces. The Doctor is who he really is the rest is for the public; Robert Windsor, John Pizer, Aaron Kosminski, James Sadler, Nathan Milbury... It just goes on and on but the worst part is it doesn't just read as procedure. This guy, whoever he is, he enjoyed what he did Alex. He enjoyed it a lot."

Doug was floored by the picture of poor young Scott and who wouldn't be? Alex has spent hours staring at that picture of his brother, until his eyes blurred from exhaustion and not tears, not tears really... It was hard to believe that the comatose child on the bed was the man who stood before the end of the world, and did not blink. Alex had known him then, known him before the boy became a hero, and even he had a hard to believing it. But then, Scott had always been Alex's hero, always been his idol and his rolemodel. It didn't matter what he had been though, it mattered what he was now, right?

But how much of what had been done to him had made him the man he was? And, what was done to him? "Those experiments we saw... he was tampering with their genetic code. He was giving raccoons wings and cats lizard tails." Doug couldn't continue but dammit, Alex needed him to, he needed to know, "Cypher, please," he said, desperately, "I know it's hard but this is my life, Scott's life. If you can't say it, I need you to write it, or record it somehow. If my genetic code has been poked at, I need to know it. Both Scott and I have problems controlling our powers, and all these years we've thought it was simply the strength, or the injuries from the accident that caused it. If it's because our abilities are unnatural, or have been enhanced, then there's the possibility that there's a way to reverse it, or at least fix whatever's wrong with us. We both have the x-factor in our blood, so we are natural mutants, but what if we're... damaged because of what he did? Fixing this... Scott might be able to have his vision back properly, without his glasses. He might be able to look his wife in the eyes, don't you want that for him? After all he's done for all of us, don't you want that?"

Doug gave him names, but none of them meant anything except the last one... Nathan Milbury. "No, it can't be... it couldn't have been him... He helped us. He found me a home. He protected Scott. If Milbury is this man... my God... Scott was with him for four years. We've seen him since we were adults..." He passed his gloved hand over his face, "Scott needs to know. If this is all true... we need to stop it before this bastard... Look, just translate as much as you can, at least about Scott and I. It'll be enough and maybe it'll help us figure out what happened so we can fix it."

It would take no pleading from Havok to make Doug realize the necessity of getting the job done. This was what being an X-man was all about, placing yourself outside what you were okay with and helping those that needed it.

There was so much to process especially when factoring in the weight of Alex's history. Doug didn't know who wanted him to be more wrong in that moment; his own self in the hope that such evil did not exist in the world or Alex in that the man that both he and Scott had placed their younger selves' trust in was also possibly the culprit to so much experimental madness. Doug reached back and pulled the folder back to him.

"I can translate this Alex but I can't swear to it's validity. I'm a kid who's great at cracking codes but you'll probably need to get Doctor McCoy or one of the other science geniuses to let you know if whats written in here is real…. or even possible."

Doug reached into the bag stationed on the floor by his side and pulled his laptop from it.

"If you have a wireless printer I can send it over to it page by page, but if it's okay I'd rather do it here. I kinda don't want to take this thing home with me. It's already in my head enough I don't want it going all 'tell tell heart in the middle of the night. And I'm going to need some coffee some of this stuff goes back years so this could take awhile."

As someone who had found a deep love for all things science fiction over the years Doug was surprised at how little excitement he could measure up for the task. As an X-man, he was seldom ever called in to provide help for a mission or problem and he had always imagined that when the day came it would be so much more thrilling than what it now was. Villains and problems always seemed greater when looked at through the other side of the lens. If he accepted one fact he would have to accept them all and that would mean that somewhere out there someone was doing reprehensible things to innocent people. All his life the young X-man had accepted that the measure of what was good and what was evil tended to fold into the valley of perception, even the people like the Brotherhood who he so vastly disagreed with didn't believe they were doing wrong or if they did they believed it was for their cause, but this… this was twisted and deranged, an abuse of science and morality for sick curiosity and the chance to play God. Doug read and typed and tried to reassure Alex even as every word entering his brain and coming back out through his typing fingers started to steer him the other way.

"Maybe it's someone trying to slander, but why go through all this trouble? If you want to hurt someone's credit you make a splash, you drop a tweet or a lawsuit or you pull a Charlie Sheen. You don't write down all your dastardly workings and hide it so that no one can find it and even if they do they won't be able to read it. If this is all misrepresentation it's the oddest case I've ever heard of."

The records were for all their troubling details well recorded, whomever wrote them down considered themselves a true documentary of science and pedigree. It was the degree that they went into their experiments that Doug found so troubling, it was so clinical and detached and with such disregard for any sanctity of life. This person considered himself a creator, killing in the process was just like a baker breaking an egg for a dish, meaningless and devoid of any feeling. This person had no soul, no humanity, Doug Ramsey had never seen a monster before but here one read out before him in page after page. This was the worst kind of science fiction because it just might be real.

"He doesn't spare any details as to why he is doing what he is, it's all in pursuit of his search for the perfect genetic creation, all that playing God, mumbo jumbo, I guess. Though if you think about it..."

He paused for a second the thought in his head now on his lips weighing heavy. It was an uncomfortable theory to share but a plausible one by Doug's thinking.

"Say you are some mad scientist obviously you'd need a lot of space and a lot of patients to do your, god, its sickens me to say it like this but work on. What better place than an orphanage? Who is more trusting than a kid who has no where and no one and who is easier to dispose of then someone that society so conveniently will forget?"

It was after the words were out of his mouth that Doug realized the hurt they might inflict. Alex and Scott were or had been orphans and now possibly they had been victims as well. It made what they were discovering all that more important Doug realized, not only to set the record of their past strait but to reclaim what balance of power they may have lost or still stood to lose

"There are a lot of mentions of Nebraska in here seems he did a lot of what it was that he did in that region. And here is something else, yeah Scott Summers... oh....."

Doug started typing frantically, he didn't want to have to read aloud what he had just translated he'd rather Havok deal with it without his being a second parroting party."

He pushed the Macbook over to Havok his hands giving just the tiniest jerk as the cursor blinked where he had just finished typing.

"You should read this yourself Alex. I don't think our Doctor friend is as out of the picture as we would like to think. The file on Scott, whatever he was trying to do, umm it doesn't say he has ever stopped."

Doug agreed to do it, to record it at least so the Alex could get someone with medical knowledge to say if it was viable medical procedure, even in theoretical experimentation. Alex was trying to distance himself analytically from this, having, before evolving into an explosive and easily manipulated genetic anomaly, been a budding young scientist. Sure, his field was geophysics not biology but he understood the need for experimentation. He had to keep putting that distance between what Doug was telling him or he was going to throw up. If ever Alex wanted a drink, it was now.

Perhaps unthinkingly, Doug mused that an orphanage made perfect sense if you were looking for throwaway subjects, the younger mutant's face coloring slightly when he realized that Alex had been one of those cast asides, and Alex held up a forgiving hand. "I was adopted quickly. I was four. I was little and I was cute... Scott, he had medical issues even after he came out of the coma, and he was eleven. Older kids..." He rubbed at his eyes, the slick black gloves of his containment suit making soft shifting sounds against his skin, "No one wants older kids... God, I had a home I didn't appreciate, and Scott..."

The files spoke of Nebraska, which only made things all the more real. The State Home was in Nebraska. Scott and Alex had been sent there even though they had been orphaned off of Oregon because it was their last state of residence. Alex remembered very clearly being put on a plane to be taken back and being so scared, for obvious reasons, that they had given him a shot to put him to sleep.

Then, came the hardest blow of all. Doug pushed the file towards Alex and suggested that this "Doctor" was still around, that he had not finished with Scott. On the file was a note: "Summers, Alex: Conclusion: Too Volatile for further study." Followed by an equally terse, "Summers, Scott: Conclusion: Promising, study ongoing"

"Jesus," Alex whispered. "Ok, ok, I'll go to Scott with this." He looked up at Doug, "This stays between you and me until I talk to him, ok? You know him, you know how my brother is, he's... he doesn't like being seen as anything other than Cyclops. It's one of the reasons he's so... so Scott."

He stood up, and offered a hand to the young man, "Thank you, Doug, thanks for helping out, and thanks for keeping this quiet."

Doug shrugged as Alex thanked him, undeserved praise as far as the linguist was concerned.

"It's cool Alex, it's no more than anyone would hopefully do for me. Besides I couldn't pay back Scott for all he has done even if I tried. I don't know if any of us could."

He continued typing on splitting his concentration from translating and reproducing the documents to the X-Factor leader who had just had the rug pulled out from under him. The truth was awful like that sometimes, Doug realized, it never really gave you a chance to be complacent, to be okay. They all lived in a world of walls that could crumble down at any moment, if a person's past couldn't even remain solid what did that say about the future?

"You've got nothing to feel guilty about Alex. Not that you are, but... you were a kid. Being young and cute wasn't a character fault and I think Scott would and probably will say the same thing. Even with all this."

He waved his hand over the folder full of the mad doctors workings.

"He would have wanted you safe and looked after. He's that kind, he'd take it on himself if he thought it could spare one person, especially his brother. He deserves to know what happened to him. What could still be.... He deserves the truth Alex and something like that should only come from you. It started with you both that's how it should end."

He turned his eyes back to the computer working through his disgust as he hoped somewhere in all this documentation of the past was the chance to put an end to whomever this guy was.

"This guy, he's hurt a lot of people Alex. I think that's whats the worst at least to me. No one deserves to be treated like this, to be experimented on, these kids, they didn't have anyone and he just... he massacred them Alex. He stole their chose."

"Find him Alex. Find him and kick his ass."