The Subjects - 1

TITUS

   Titus Arthur Masters was a great many things, lucky, fortuitous? Not so much. He’d been described as apathetic, been called an ass. His high school teachers would tell him he was too smart for his own good, or too sardonic for his health, and didn't they deserve a crisp 5 dollars for that astute observation. Another key trait he lacked, though, was patience. It wasn’t as though he was entirely without, Titus just reserved his patience for what he deemed worthy causes, and often begrudgingly. It was not a long list. 

 

This, in a rather long and drawn out way, explains the irritated migraine Titus was experiencing over being left to wait in a barren room amongst several other, rather loud, personalities. 

 

    Exactly one week ago, Titus received a letter printed on fancy cardstock, and written in elegant scrawl. Well, if he were honest, Titus would say that anything looked ‘elegant’ compared to his nearly unreadable chicken scratch. His teacher would say that it was a smart person thing - his brain was moving too quickly for his hands to keep up. Titus would just tighten his jaw at the compliment and shrug. 

 

    The letter was vague, but the demand was clear: His presence was ‘requested’ at McGreggor Compound in rural Virginia. It was neatly signed at the bottom by one Marian McGreggor. Titus spent nearly three consecutive days investigating this woman who all but ordered him to fly from Washington State. It was less than fruitful. Titus found that she was a published Geneticist, doing extensive research in mutation. That bit of knowledge gave him a sickening unease the moment his eyes read the lines on the computer screen. 

    

    It's not like anyone would know about his 'affinity', he hadn’t been active outside of his own four walls and closed shutters. So how in the fuck did some 56 year old Greek broad know what he could do? 

 

    Titus found himself deeply unnerved. He hardly liked sharing things with people he knew, so having a stranger blackmail him into a meeting was downright loathsome. Titus didn't like probing people poking around in his life. His flight was booked by 11:45 am, with a motel for the night because the damn plane didn’t come in until 2:45am the night before. And now here he was, at 8:30pm sharp with nearly a dozen other people in a plain concrete room with few windows and sparse furniture. 

 

The place was a small upgrade from a prison cell, a far cry from the magnanimous appearance as he walked up. The compound was huge, large enough to hold a few families at least. But it was erie as well, the Virginia plains spread far out until it blended with the blackened sky. The  grounds dark and ominous as he cautiously strode up. His taxi had sped off the minute he was out the door, leaving him to the brisk winds and endless land and whatever lurked about. The stars above gave little light to see as he made his way up the gravel drive to a steel door and pushed it open. 

    Titus situated himself against the wall nearest the door, he could feel the coolness of the cement through his coat. It was an old jean jacket with fur lining he'd found deep in an old closet of his parent trailer. He’d gotten the reel of cigarettes out for the most part, but he couldn't do anything about the matting. It kept warm all the same. Titus kept quiet, observing the wide range of personalities around him, what would bring together such a broad crowd. Seriously, Titus counted at least 5 different accents, some he couldn't place. A few from the UK, one Spanish, he thought, a few American. Every race, gender, appearance. There was no common denominator here, it was bewildering, the circumstance and setting. 

 

There was a set of fraternal triplets at the center of the group, cockney voices loud and grating as they reverberated through the room. They were laughing and waving their arms about, falling over each other and whomever was next to them. There were two women and one man, they all appeared young, mocha skin stretched over just barely ‘too-skinny’ faces, spackled in freckles. They had bleached and colored their hair and eyebrows, looking like they’d stepped out of the pages of a popfashion magazine. The tallest women with orange, the shorter female with bright red, and the male with neon green, all cropped short.The Red haired female burst into another bout of laugher, holding her sides and draping herself dramatically over an asian man to her left. 

 

The man seemed smiled widely alongside them, finding humor at the three. He had stern features and a wide face with a tall slender build and trim hair that had been styled up and back, perhaps in his 20s? To their left was a nervous looking spanish girl with a goth style, a walking teenage stereotype who appeared as uncomfortable as she did eager to join in the revelrie. Her painted on brows managed to disappear into very short black choppy bangs - she probably did them herself, Titus mused. Beside her was a meek black girl with cool skin and sharp features, long natural curls pulled into a half up-half down. She seemed to curl into the small space she’d carved out in the musty couch, hands tucked into the sleeves of a well worn mens button up. 

 

Titus counted at least four more tucked into corners and hiding against the walls like him. An androgynous looking figure with pale transleucent skin and bright ginger hair in a 3 piece suit towered over a much shorter, gaunt and gruff looking woman in scant clothing, stark white hair and eyes contrasting her skin. They leisurely leant in to whisper, judgement casting across their faces as they glanced at the frivolity before them. 

 

Across from him stood an angrily brooding figure, a tall man who stood at near 6’2’’ - a good several inches above himself, and about his age. The man scowled across the room with his   muscluar arms crossed, leaning a daunting figure into the door frame, glower nearly palpable. 

 

“Done memorizing the room, yet?” An accent he couldnt recognize startled Titus out of his focus, attention snapping to the woman at his right. He’d seen her floating around the room earlier, white -gray hair and nearly translucent-pale skin with stark black tattoos all over making her look like a whistful ghost whispering into the ears of the waiting guests. 

 

Titus regarded her with carefully measured disinterest, lazily crossing his arms and turing his attention back around the room, “Memorize? Pfft, there’s too much chaos in this one room to remember my own thoughts. Besides, thats a lot of details and my brain’s not that strong.” The woman leaned in further, as if swapping a secret with an old friend. She was nearly his height, maybe a bit taller with the chunky heels she wore, and Titus pointedly tried to ignore how the action pushed her nearly exposed chest into his peripheral eyesight. 

 

“Can’t fool me, Love.” Her voice was saccharine sweet as it fell from her red painted lips, “I see a pair of big brown calculating eyes in that face of yours, you’re sizing up the crowd. Its smart, truly. Notice anything special?” 

 

Titus chuckled, “Just a full house of misfits, apparently.” He cast a glance over to her made up face, heavy eyeblack surrounded pale green eyes, every piece of her hair, makeup and clothes drawn just-so to give the appearance of a beautiful, grey blond, constrasting, enigma, bombshell, with everything done all at once. This woman dressed to be remembered and recognized, voice seductive and mesmerizing. Titus wondered if she wasn’t some kind of black widow, it would be his luck to be lured into andother state and killed by a woman so far out of his league he couldn’t even imaging her in his wet dreams. 

 

She scoffed lightly and rolled her eyes, clearly bored with his response. Titus quirked a brow, “Care to tell me what I’m missing?”

 

She looked over with a renewed mischief, “Theres 12 of us here, lured in by a piece of shite cardstock with no information, locked up in a giant cement compound in rural virginia.” She turned deadpan and stared straight into his eyes for a brief pause, “Clearly we’ve been lured into a sex cult and were here for the indoctrination and sacrifice.”

 

Surprise overtook Titus’s composure before he could contain it and he let out an exhasperated snicker that he quickly smothered, “You think they’ll let us pick our own lube or do you think its preset?”

The woman maintained a mischevious grin, “Probably just blood for lube, if this is a sacrificial cult.”

 

“Ah”, Titus hummed, “Either way, I hope I dont get caught in front of that dude,”  he pointed to the standing statue of ‘Pissed Of’ across from him. “He’s radiating so much repressed anger, I think he might choke me out before I get to enjoy the mass suicide.” That drew a a lovely laugh from the woman, and she sighed as she settled back beside him and held out a delicate hand, “Veronica Bertray, and you are?”

 

Titus glanced at her hand and then at her face and back again, hesitating before letting out a reluctant sigh of his own and shaking her hand. He really hadn’t wanted to get aquainted with anyone here, so much for that plan, “Titus Masters.” 

 

“Titus, eh? Not a name you hear everyday, thats a name of some great men.” Vernoica turned now to face him, arms crossed and propping her breast up even higher in her low cut shirt as she leant against the wall.

 

“My parents had very high expectations.” He quipped. Titus glanced at her face and back to the crowd at a consistent rate, one of the triplets was up doing an impression now, gangly limbs flailing about with abandon. 

 

“Apparently. You live up to it?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

She burst out in a chuckle again, another wonderful sound, “Thats funny! You’re quite cheeky, I like you.”

 

Titus grimaced, “Thats a highly regrettable choice. I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Veronica squinted as she analyzed his face, “Good to know, even better that you’re not, then.” 

 

Titus spared her a minute glance, “Where the hell is that accent from? Its like a messy conglomeration of every single british accent plus the transatlantic.” 

 

“Oh love, yes, flatter me more! Because an insult is just the way to get an answer.”

Titus shrugged, “I told you it was a mistake to like me.” The far door was opening and his full attantion went with it, as did Veronica’s mild interest. 

 

Through the door stepped a tall, crow looking woman Titus recognized as Marian McGregor. Her dark hair and grey strands was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a plain blue dress that went to her knees with buttons up the front ans short sleeves; matronly, almost. She hardly commanded the room as she entered, but one by one the other guests in the room clopped their mouths shut, looking on with hesitant expectance as she came to stand before them. 

 

“Good morning, my treasured guests. I am so grateful that you have made it through your travels safely to be here with me.” She swallowed thickly, nervously, Titus could see gears turning in her head as if to remember her next line. “I am sure you are very confused as to why you are here, I know I did not offer much information, but I promise it was for good reason.” Marian shifted her weight as she glanced at each face in the room, hands clasped in front of her clenching and unclenching with the seconds. Her eyes were nervous as they flitted over his face. 

 

“I will not waste your time, and I will get right to the point.” There was another edgy glance around the room, “Each of you has a specific secret, a very specific talent… and I know about them.” Another fidget from Marian, and the air in the room dropped 20 degrees and the tension rose until Titus was choking on it. 

 

Before Marian could continue, The Glowering man that had been across from him spoke, voice a deep timbre and seething with rage, “What the fuck is this? Some kinda blackmail? Who the fuck do you think you are?” He threw his arms down, reminding Titus of somewhat of a toddler in a tantrum if it weren’t for his intimidating size. He fired off questions too fast for Marian to answer, and she let out a frazzled sigh as he hands raised a bit in attempt to placate him, though he hardly gave her room to get a word in. 

 

Titus all but groaned, the mans outbrust did little more than prolong the answers he wanted, though he did have good points. But what good were the questions if he didnt actually get answers, “Maybe if you shut the fuck up for half a second, she could tell us.” He did say patience wasn’t his strong suit. 

 

The room all but froze, turning to look at Titus like he’d appeared out of thin air. Nevermid that he’d been there longer than most of them, Titus had inconspicuously blended right into the concrete walls - the way he liked it - and no one had even noticed his before Veronica came over. 

 

The mans glower was focused entirely on Titus now, thick black brows furrowed nearly into one and lips curling into a snarl, “And who the fuck are you talking to?” 

 

Despite recognizing the very high possibility that this dude would take his roid rage out on his face, Titus’ eyebrows shot up in a dumbfounded expression. “Well, I suppose context clues would indicate you, Hothead.” That little nickname seemed to enrage the man more and Titus swore he saw  flash of something white hot in his black eyes for a second. He looked about two seconds away from lunging across the 8 feet and several people to rip Titus’ head off. 

 

“Please! Please! Just take a second to breath, I promise I will answer every question you have if you just give me a moment!”, Marian was shouting with her hands up in a plead, big brown eyes wide in fear. The man directed one final snear at Titus before growling at her to, “hurry the fuck up.” 

 

Vernica leant over into Titus’ eyesight with a surprised, nervous smile, as though she were holding in a laugh, hissing as Marian collected herself, “Well arent you just full of bloody surprises, Titus. You really are aiming to die by the end of this, aren’t ya?” 

 

Titus just rolled his eyes, preoccupied with focusing on the man who now absolutely wants to rip out his guts, and the nervous hostess that seemed to have all the answers. 

 

“I am not here to threaten or blackmail you, I expect nothing from any of you, I promise. I am a Genetic scientist, my father and I have studied genetic mutation for several decades, and I now carry on his research. I believe that to be the source of each of your ‘talents’. I have invited you here so that I may learn more about them and you. You would be compensated, of course, should you - hopefully - decide to stay, free room and board”,  Her wide eyes glanced around the room again to gauge the response, sparing the asshole to her right just a sharp side eye. “... and… an opportunity to meet likeminded individuals, as well I suppose.”

 

“Excuse me”, the asian man from earlier interjected now, voice polite and even. His patience was a breath of relief after the tension had risen so high, “What is it you are really looking to achieve by bringing us all here? By studying us?” 

 

Marian looked down at her hands as they fidgited, “well, I suppose I’d like to develop a cure of sorts, nothing I’d ever impose on you all, but an option of sorts.” She looked back up with a newfound resolution, “These ‘talents’ you all have, they are different across each person I meet. I’ve never met two of the same, complimentary, perhaps, but each indiviually unique. And some are quite detrimental, they are more a curse than anything. These others cannot live normal lives, have relationships, they are in constant  pain and worry. I’ve promised to help them as best I can, and I’m trying to do that, but these talents are simply too intricate to understand from a simple interview and blood sample.” 

 

A slight silence fell across the room, Marian’s voice wavering with emotion as she continued after a moment, “I will be honest, you are not the first I have invited to stay here, the group before you had many individuals who have chosen to leave, and that is they’re right. But I do hope you will stay, even for a bit.” 

 

And then it was quiet, Titus watched as each member seemed to look at one another and back to the door behind Marian. None seemed to want to be the first. 

 

 

cont.