Not the Lab Coats

December 18, 2018:

What happens to Marcos and Lorna while they're captured and being held by the Genoshan Magistrates.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Marcos and Lorna had been separated upon arrival. The room that he'd been taken to was pitch black, without a scrap of light. Not only sensory deprivation, but also to prevent even the slightest chance that the mutant might gain strength from the sun or other light source beyond the collar that blocked him. The room was tiny, no bigger than a closet, smooth floors and tall walls of equal smoothness and one door.

There was a toilet, and sink that worked. A small, thin, cushion that served as a bed completed what little there was in the room. A vent, small and high, echoed the sounds from down the way, however many rooms away. And from it, Marcos could hear his wife. He'd been able to hear her fight against the collar, her screams of rage, and the continued shouts of panic and orders to sedate her.

He'd also heard the questions, questions about where his daughter was. A constant barrage that was aimed at his drugged wife.

Even as the Magistrates left him alone in the cool dark room on his own.

A watery voice came through the vents, choked and raspy sounding. "M-Marcos? Marcos?" It was Lorna's voice. And she sounded only half awake, her speech slurred and slow.


Eclipse had been derived of all of his power. Not even an OUNCE of light was allowed into his room. But that didn't stop him from banging on steel walls when he heard his wife's cries of vengeance and rage at their captors. But, then everything was silent, and Marcos had likely been beaten once or twice if he didn't have answers.

He rests his head on the cold floor, when he hears Lorna's voice through the vents, and he crawls over to one, and he speaks. "Lorna? I hear you…are you okay? did they hurt you?"

he sounds -weak-. Alive, but weak. Exhausted. Angry. But right now, she was all that mattered to him.

"Do you know where we are?"


A long moment of silence fell heavily between them. Lorna herself, in her own room was strapped and bound in plastic strips to a hospital like bed. But everything in her room was plastic. She could see, at least. Even if the IV that they kept plugged into her arm and the various monitors around her beeped and whirled. She was groggy, barely awake, and her eyelids were so heavy that she felt as if going back to sleep was the best option she had..

At least until Marcos' voice echoed through the vents and stirred her sleepy, drugged, mind back into a brief moment of awareness. "Huh?" She mumbled, her eyes stung from the brightness of her room and she shifted, the plastic around her jiggling.

"No.. I dunno. I dunno.." A mumbled response followed.


Marcos tapped on the grate to see if he could keep Lorna awake. "Okay…well…I hope our friends are coming. That they know where we are. Otherwise…we're pretty rightly fucked." Marcos still had a sense of humor. "Stay awake, baby. Stay awake. Do you know what they're pumping you with?"

He asks curiously, knowing full well she probably does't now. "Just…listen to the sound of my voice? okay?"


Another long, drawn pause followed, almost to the point that it seemed reasonable that Lorna had fallen back into her dream-like, drugged state. Yet Marcos' words dragged at her sluggish mind, and she struggled to try to put words together when all she wanted was to ..shut.. her … eyes.. "I dunno.." She slurred again, "..So, tired.. can't move.. S'all plastic." She felt her eyes slipping shut, and despite every logical nerve in her that screamed at her to stay awake. To do what Marcos said and try to talk to him.

Whatever else might be said was drowned out by the sudden opening of Marcos' door. White light from the hallway streaming into his squalid room and illuminating it in a harsh, hospital like florescent way.

A figure stood in the center of the doorway, before it moved, and it became clear as Marcos' eyesight adjusted that it was more than one person in the same military like outfits as he had seen before at his father's house.


Marcos looks up at the man in the doorway, and he seems to narrow his eyes. "Looks like I have company…" he whispers and he sits up to his feet, leaning against the wall. "How can I help you today?" Marcos puts on a colossal face that screams 'fuck you' to the Magistrate that appears to be in the door.

He also seems so look rather amused. yet there was this…killer, in Marcos's eye. like he had a grim expression on his face.


The men didn't even so much as address Marcos as the clomp of their boots echoed through the smooth tiles of the room and made to try to roughly grab Marcos by either arm. Their faces were carefully blank, uncaring expressions. Men that had lived in Genosha and had seen it fall. They'd lived with mutates as slaves and lost them. To these guards, these former Genoshans, Marcos was simply another would be slave.

Should he resist at all, the men would step back, arms held out cautiously before them as they gave him space. Then, out came a remote control from the pocket of one of them. A few taps away on it, and an electric charge swift and powerful emitted from the collar around Marcos' neck. "That should be enough." One of them said, and turned off the current. They stood by, waiting to see what Marcos would do before they'd try again to grab him and drag him from the room.


Marcos looks at the soldiers and oh yes, when they approach him to grab at him? he'll throw a mean right hook at one of them to see if he can't knock one of these magistrate assholes out. But, either way, once someone pushes that button and a shock goes through his collar, he shouts in agony as he falls to the floor. He stil even tries to stand before the shock is too much for him and he collapses.

He's gasping. fervently. but soon enough, he'll be dragged to wherever it is they want to take him.


Down the hall, Marcos was met with the sight of white walls, white floors and ceiling. Florescent lights above that hummed with electrical power. It was silent, save for their foot steps as they dragged Marcos along. As they went down the hall, Marcos would see the state his wife was in. A clear plastic, or maybe glass, door left the view clear through to the room next to his.

The entire room was reinforced with the same clear material, the hospital like bed was made of the same, and plastic straps held Lorna down to it. There were IV and other needles and tubes connected to her. A collar continued to glow at around her neck and she was currently tilting her head from side to side, her lips moving in soundless questions. No doubt trying to figure out what had happened to her husband and calling out to him.

But they never stopped, they continued to drag him onwards down the hall to another room.


Marcos saw his wife and seemed to try to CONTINUE to resist but instead didn't have the strength to. He wondered if his wife could even see him before he's just dragged onward…dragged ever forward. "tell you what…why don't you get this overpriced necklace off of me and we can settle this like real men, motherfucker.." Marcos doesn't know where he's being taken either.

Though his eyes are ever forward. White rooms? well then..looks like his wife got one of the fancy rooms.


Marcos' words, his attempt at struggle earned a sharp jostle from one of the guards. A muttered curse and one of them attempted to smack the weakened mutant up side the head with a harsh crack of gloved hand against his face. The room they brought Marcos to was similar to Lorna's but with more metal. More electronics. It looked less like a hospital room of clear plastics and glass, and more of a laboratory. A large square machine stood in the center, massive tubes and plugs and wires plugged into it from all around the back, leading away to the wall. The front held a seam and large bolts that suggested it was likely a door of some kind.

Several men in white lab coats, goggles, and gloves stood waiting as the guards made to haul Marcos to a hospital bed with straps on it. "Yes, yes, set him down there. Don't jostle him too much. We need him in good health." Grumbled one of the scientists, who looked over a clipboard.

"Apologies Mister Diaz, but if you don't struggle it will be easier for you."


Nightwing heads out to The Sound Stages.


oohhhh shit.

Lab coats. Marcos never did like scientists. But, he never liked assholes either, so…why net let it rain just a little harder, huh? He's put onto the bed and strapped down, but not before taking a gloved backhand to the face. "ow…your wife hit harder." Marcos insults before he looks to the head scientist.

"What do you want? Why us? of all people you could have went and kidnapped?" he wants answers.


The other scientists went about their business and the guards swiftly stepped away to give them work. The man that had actually spoken to Marcos however to tap away on a tablet in front of him, held in place by his clipboard. A brow rose as he nodded to one of his co-workers who muttered something about getting things done already. Said man was reaching for Marcos' arm, and promptly made to inject something into a vein.

"Well, Mister Diaz, you were simply convenient. Your father contacted us, as we were in the neighborhood sort to speak." He muttered under his breath to another man in a lab-coat and nodded to him in passing as he came to the other side of where Marcos lay.

"And now you'll make a nice addition to our attempts to reclaim our heritage. Our rightful place in the world. You'll be the start of something wonderful. It would have been better if we had your daughter, of course. But it's an unfortunate set back that your wife claimed she didn't know where the baby was." He tsk'ed under his breath and stepped back.

The other lab coats made to wheel the bed that Marcos was strapped down to toward the large machine in the center of the room.

"Be thankful, boy. After we're through, you'll be a new man."

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