Broken Promises [Book Two | REMASTERED]

Chapter 15: Mad Scientist

        "This creature is extraordinary!" Dr. Bolivar Trask exclaimed as he peered into the microscope on the lab table. Pulling back, he examined the slide with the mutant's blood on it. "Her genes could hold the key to mutation itself." 

        Trask stood up straight, taking in a sharp inhale. "I need more!" 

        Behind Trask stood a military man—Major William Stryker. With his arms crossed over his chest, he respectively looked down at Trask, offering, "That's all they were able to scrape off the pavement in Paris."

        "More than blood," Trask insisted as he carefully switched the microscope slides out. "I need brain tissue, spinal fluid, bone marrow. Imagine," Trask elaborated, "Sentinels that could transform, adapt to any target. If I could just get my hands on her. . ." Trask shook his head before looking into the microscope once more. "This girl could leap the program forward years. Decades into the future." Suddenly, the doctor raised his head up again, placing both hands on the lab table, hunched over. Without looking behind him, he addressed Stryker, "How old is your son now, Major?" 

        "Jason? He's coming up on ten now, if you can believe it."

        "Eight years from fighting age." Trask paused, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "And how many of our sons and brothers did we just ship home in body bags? Maybe fifty, fifty-five thousand? And how many more on the other side?"

        Styker looked down; he was not unaccustomed to the casualties of war by this point. 

        Trask removed his glasses, holding them in his hands before him. As he turned, his eyes looked to the floor, and he shook his head. "Never before . . ." Trask placed his glasses on suddenly, looking at Stryker then. ". . . in all of human history has there been a cause which could unite us as a species. Until now."

        After a moment, Stryker cracked a grin. "You really hate mutants, Doctor, don't you?"

        "On the contrary!" Trask smiled to himself, walking across the lab. "I rather admire them. The things they can do." Trask looked through the large lab windows, observing the dark world outside. Lights from their storage building across the way shined back, and between them, diesel trucks carried cargo crates with Trask's industry logo printed on the sides. Trask continued, "I see mutants as our salvation. A common struggle against the ultimate enemy: extinction." 

        Men outside worked with machines to maneuver and transport the crates. Trask felt pride in his work, sure of the outcome now more than ever. "I believe our new friends are going to help us usher in a new era, Bill. A new era of genuine and long-lasting peace."

        As they stood and watched the many handling tasks of the Sentinels, they could not have seen nor noticed a certain man dressed in uniform, but no worker for Trask. He stood between two crates, watching as Sentinels were placed inside of one after the other.

        A voice sounded over the intercom, blaring out, "ATTENTION. ATTENTION. TRANSPORT DEPARTURE IN TWO HOURS. REPEAT. TRANSPORT DEPARTURE IN TWO HOURS."

        The man remained still, clenching his jaw, unseen from where he remained hidden in the shadows. As the rain drizzled down in the night, the man knew what had to be done.

        Erik Lehnsherr was going to fight back.