The MCRT, Morlocks, MGH and Murder

Part 2: Chapter 20

Willa looked up as Marjorie addressed her, her sister and Sara. Her ‘boss’ was standing next to a man who was probably at least fifteen years younger than Marjorie. At first she assumed this was a test for her, Cora and Sara. This man had offered himself to them – what as a sex toy or something? But swallowing the fear that had bubbled up, telling herself not to panic, she forced herself to take a closer look at Marjorie’s guest.

He was very handsome, with thick brown hair that curled up slightly against the collar of his coat; deep, dark brown eyes and a slim yet, athletic build. He could not be identified as either mutant or baseline, though she always suspected that the very attractive as well as the very ugly were somehow mutated. He had the easy confidence of someone who knew he was both attractive and well-liked. She felt the sudden urge to hate him on site, but couldn’t quite manifest it.

They approached the table, Marjorie and the stranger, and Marjorie squeezed the man’s shoulder, a signal Willa read as companionship. Turning to the girls, then, she said, “This is Special Agent Remy LeBeau.” Remy was quite surprised she knew that, considering she always called him ‘detective’. Marjorie continued with, “Treat him as you might anyone who could be your golden ticket out of here.”

As Marjorie left, Remy was hit immediately with forced waves of ‘I fucking hate you’, and chose to sit nearest Cora, whose emotional ‘color’ was bubblegum pink, the gushing, popping, not-quite-an-emotional-response a lot of very young kids had when content. Only the very troubled kids, like Sammy Luc Paré, had emotional responses that were more varied. Cora, despite living in a whore house, had no such issues, which had Remy questioning how much she understood in general about the world around her. The other two girls, on the other hand, seemed to understand a great deal.

He had done the meet-and-greet thing many times, and ran through the motions saying what he needed to so they would see his side of things. Sometimes, it made him feel slimy, to take advantage of people, using his empathetic charm to his benefit. He was certain this was the reason why he’d made one hell of an MCRT Agent, why he had moved up quicker than others had.

After all, these were young girls, and the easiest ploy was to use what was already there. Hormones. And it was tragically easy, probably even for someone who did not have an empathetic charm. Hell, maybe even easier for them. Emma liked to call it ‘easy transference’, referring to the patient-doctor experience a lot of clients went through, except for her, like Remy, that reaction happened a lot more than normal. But Remy preferred to call it what Mattie had always called it: good ol’ fashioned snake charmin’. It didn’t let the mind make excuses for what he was doing to them, and when they had flipped like a switch from ‘I want to hate you’ to ‘you know, he’s really cute’, Remy went in for the kill. The school. The better life they could have. If only they let him make decisions on their behalf.

Willa listened to his proposal, first with feelings of doubt surging through. Why the hell would this man care about her or her sister? Why did he care that they got out of Marjorie’s place and into something better for them? No one else had ever given a damn. But, then, she began to feel warm inside, cared for, and she looked at the stranger with a new fondness. He was a mutant; after all, thus, he understood their plight. Or maybe it was how he was saying it, rather than what he was actually saying. He had the slightest of accents, and with his name, she could assume he was from South Louisiana. And the cadence to his voice, though it caught on itself due to what she assumed must be a cold – poor thing, out in the weather as he was – intrigued her. So much so, that she paid no attention to her little sister. Until, perhaps, the damage was already done.

“Cora, stop it!” she exclaimed and Remy could feel her embarrassment. Something, she undoubtedly felt nearly as often as her responsibility for her younger sister.

Cora looked up at her, those crystalline blue eyes as bright, and yet, as vacant as ever. She hadn’t been really paying attention to what the man beside her said. But had really liked his notebook. With her trademark drippy fingers, she had trailed them across the pages, wrinkling the paper just so. Finger painting without any color.

“I made secret flowers for the nice man, Willa.”

“Well, don’t,” Willa said, somewhat tersely, but much quieter than her outburst had been. Turning to Remy, she said, “I’m really sorry Agent LeBeau. She just can’t help herself.”

“It’s okay,” Remy replied. “It’s only paper.” And turning to Cora, he thanked her for the ‘gift’. She beamed and then made watermarks on the table. Remy noted parts of her body seemed fluid, stretchy in some ways, like the ebb and flow of a river. Her abilities intrigued him, as did her seemingly limited knowledge. He asked Willa, “Has she always been like this?”

“She turned into a mutant at maybe eight. I was twelve and had just turned, too.”

Interesting. “And what about her,” he tried to think of a polite term for her intellect and settled for, “preoccupations.”

Willa blinked, and asked, “With flowers and painting and stuff?”

“Yes. Was she born that way, or did this develop after her abilities manifested?”

“I don’t really know,” Willa answered. “I did the best I could teaching her other things, but none of it stuck.”

“This isn’t your fault, Willa. The most important thing is you’ve managed to not only take care of yourself from the time you were twelve, but also managed the care for your eight year old sister.”

Willa hadn’t told him that they’d been alone since their powers developed, and was amazed at his perception. Ready to take her good luck while it was sitting in front of her, she said, “Look, I’ll give this school a try. But, I’ve got to get some things in order first.”

Remy nodded, “Of course.” In between his two fingers was a card. A business card. “All of my contact information is here. Call anytime when you’re ready.” He handed one to Sara as well, who had sat quietly for almost the entire discussion. That told Remy that she was new to the street-life, and desperately seeking a way out. That, however, was not a guarantee that she would come with him. In fact, she would be harder to convince because she didn’t yet know what rock bottom was.

She took it though, and put it inside the pocket of her pants. Remy met her eyes as she said, “I need to think about it.”

He nodded again, and gave her the courtesy that he didn’t see right through her. “Sure. Take your time. But, know that even if you agree, you can always change your mind if you don’t like it there.”
For some runaways, Xavier’s felt like a prison. For some mutants who had spent their life in a mutant community, Xavier’s was a world they didn’t understand. Remy knew Sara was in the first category, as a runaway, but had a need to be part of the second. She needed to feel as if she belonged to something set apart from humanity, and Remy figured Xavier’s wouldn’t quite cut it at this time.

He stood and said goodbye to all of the girls, and to Marjorie. Then, he gathered his reserves to go outside to deal with Logan, and probably a bloody Dirk.

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