Too Much, Too Fast

Part 4

by D.E. Lewis (Sherlockian221 at
Holmes felt better for some odd reason. His side didn't hurt, and it wasn't bleeding anymore. He slept in the infirmary one more night anyway. The next morning, though, he got an unpleasant surprise. As he opened his eyes, he was having his bandages changed by a black cloak. The black cloak jumped, as did Holmes. Accidentally, Holmes shot a bolt of lightning from his fingertip that shot the cloak back. It, in turn, merged into the shadow on the wall. Holmes felt hot in the face, realizing that this was obviously another mutant.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't realize you were another mutant." The cloak materialized out of the wall. Holmes noticed its white eyes. It looked at him. Then it spoke.
"Think nothing of it. I get that a lot, and sometimes on purpose. I'm Shadow." He held out a black gloved hand and sleeve. His body was obviously completely covered. He had the voice of a young man. Holmes shook his hand. Holmes looked down at his side. It was healed completely.
Shadow spoke again. "Hmm. Better tell Winter her new process worked. You're actually wanted upstairs. I'll take you up."
Holmes followed him down a long hallway, and into an elevator. The elevator took them upstairs, and Shadow led them into a room with a desk, a few large armchairs, and a small girl sitting in the corner, typing on a laptop computer. Shadow excused himself, and Holmes was left in the room with her. He noted the room was unusually cold. Then he turned his attention to the girl. He guessed her no more than eight or nine years old. She had almost completely white skin and curly black hair that fell down to her shoulders. A large white dog sat at her feet. She obviously was busy, because she hadn't noticed him there. Then a man in an old-fashioned motorized wheelchair entered the room. He was completely bald, and older.
"Good morning, Mr. Holmes." He said. "I am Professor Charles Xavier. Welcome to the Institute."
"Good morning. May I ask why I have been brought up here?"
Professor Xavier smiled. "We would like to help you solve this mystery. Firstly, is there any way I can make you more comfortable?"
"Well, I did notice the room was a little cold..."
The Professor chuckled. "That's not the thermostat, no, that's Winter."
The girl in the corner looked up. "Oh! I didn't notice anyone else was here, would you like me to leave, Professor?" Holmes hadn't noticed wirerimmed glasses, or the blue eyes behind them. How on earth was she making the room colder?
The dog looked up at her. Then it did something odd. "I noticed them," he muttered.
Holmes' eyes grew wide. The dog was TALKING?
Winter gave the dog an odd look. "Tamarak, you're scaring people again."
"Winter," the Professor continued, "we might actually need your expertise in something."
"Would you activate your group recognition program?"
"Ooo, I don't know, Professor. It's still in the experimental process. I'll give it a try anyway. It might work. Okay. Mr. Holmes, you'll need to relate your adventure to me, and you need to totally give me every detail. You up to it?"
Holmes smiled, then began his story.


"-and then I woke up here." He had just finished. Winter had been typing in information derived from his account the whole time.
She looked at him. "Is there anything else? Anything out of the ordinary."
Holmes looked thoughtful for a minute. "Yes. There was. One of the men said something odd. Something like 'My father my brother' or something of the sort."
Winter sat up straighter. She deleted the information she had typed in. "I can tell you who these people are without the program. They call themselves Generation Perfection. They were a - believe it or not - botched genetics experiment. The scientists used a lot of in breeding among people to create a perfect human. Project Synthoid Gene, they called it. They created people who could run faster, jump higher, fight longer, and heal faster than normal humans. Unfortunately, they were violent, and thought that they needed to destroy any-" she paused, as if it hurt to say the next words. "-defective people. They will kill any mutant, imperfect person, anyone. And they'll do it in the most painful way possible. They're awful. I promise. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get to dance class." And she and her dog walked out of the room.

On to Part 5!
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