RP Canon Divergence


It didn’t take long for the man to get off the couch and approach her. She wanted to pull away from him, protect herself, run.

After a few moments of staring at his shoes he bent over her with a damp cloth, pressing it her face. Beatrice tried to turn her face from it, worried it was chloroform, or poison. Even without moving her eyes were struck with fear.

Then, Beatrice realized she was slowly able to move her fingers, then her arms and legs. The man tactfully grabbed her back and shoulder and helped her into a sitting position.

She took a few ragged breaths, not meeting the man’s eyes, trying to gain her bearings and balance. It took a few more moments for her to find her voice, laced with a cold anger, disguising apprehension, “I can’t do what you’re asking…Just, please…”

Don’t do that again.

Stop.

Leave me alone.

She finally found the strength to meet his eyes, “Don’t draw this out.”
 
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“I already told you,” he said, “That I don’t want to hurt you unless I have to, Ms. Waters.”

She was angry, and rightfully so. But Sulphur had a job to do. He couldn’t leave until he was sure he had succeeded at his mission. At least, normally he couldn’t. A company working on a cure was something to be concerned with, that was true, but it wasn’t even in a testing phase. Was all of this… really necessary? He met her eyes again, those soft grey eyes, and he swallowed slightly, reflexively.

What harm would really come of him letting her live? At least for a little while. It was possible this experience would be enough to convince her that she was in danger and that she needed to stop. It was possible he didn’t actually need to hurt her at all. His eyes softened a touch in the face of her anger. Anger was a usual cover up for fear, in his experience. People would rage, rage against dying, rage against the last light. She was no exception.

He pulled his hands away as soon as she had her balance and leaned back on his heels, contemplative. For a long moment, he was quiet. Quiet, and still. Then he sighed, turning his head slightly to look toward the door. He met her eyes again.

“I’m going to leave now. Please reconsider your choices. I would hate to have to visit you again under these circumstances.”​
 
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Waters Pharmaceuticals announced earlier this week that they plan for their cure to enter beta testing by the end of the month. Head of the Board of Directors, Amos Costa, said “We’re please to say we are making steady and significant progress. We don’t have enough research for live testing yet, but thanks to the many metas out there supporting us, and providing DNA, we are drawing closer to having a cure.”

Several metahuman rights groups were quick to decry the development of a cure, taking to social media to organize protests. So far Waters Pharmaceuticals has made no comment toward their opponents.

CEO Beatrice Waters was present at the Montreal Bioethics Conference to present on the development of the cure, but declined to comment. The young heiress- Story Continued Page 5​
 

Sulphur watched as Obsidian folded the paper up neatly and set it on the desk. He could see the press photo of Beatrice Waters standing at a podium at a conference on the front cover, very much alive. He clenched his teeth, his jaw tight as he waited for the questions he knew were going to come. Sure enough, his older brother looked at him over the edge of his reading glasses.

“So are you going to tell me why Ms. Waters is still alive, or do I need to ask you?” There was something tight in the man’s voice, and the shadows that clung to his skin seemed to darken as he restrained himself. If it had been anyone but him, Sulphur imagined, Obsidian would not be quite as contained.

Sulphur straightened his shoulders out, taking a short breath before responding, “Your instructions were to take care of the problem, not to kill her. I thought I had resolved the issue. I see that’s clearly not the case. I’ll handle it.”

“So I don’t need to send Malachite to do this job? Can you handle it? And next time I see Ms. Waters in the news will be her obituary?” He ran a hand through his red curls, pushing them back away from his face. Sulphur met his golden eyes, matched the intensity behind them.

“Yes. I can handle it.”​
 
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Her school was public knowledge. Her dorm room? That had taken a bit of hacking to find, but find it he had. He sat patiently inside the room on a couch, a book in hand. He was reading one of the Waters Pharma papers that had recently been published about some of their findings on metahuman genetics. It was well written, but he found himself questioning a lot of their testing methods. Better to know the science behind what was happening if he was going to have to do something about the lab in the future.

For now, it just provided a good distraction while he waited for Beatrice to show.​
 
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After the incident in her office, Beatrice had taken to utilizing her chauffer more often, and spent her nights at her penthouse apartment, rather than her dorm. She'd even started skipping most of her classes. Between bring a CEO, and spending more and more time at the labs, getting a degree seemed...pointless.

Bea hadn't given up on it completely just yet, forcing her to return to her dorm for her economics textbooks. She scratched her inner elbow mindlessly, where blood had been taken earlier that day. She kept the bandage and bruising covered with a thick sweater that fell a bit over her jeans- a much more casual outfit than she was accustomed to wearing as of late. Bea had even taken to wearing her nose ring again.

She quickly used her card to unlock the door, and stepped into the vacant room, and flipped on the lights, only to find it wasn't so vacant.

Beatrice back away from the blonde man. "How the hell did you get in here?" Stupid question Bea.

"It...it doesn't matter just get out!" She said, raising her voice. There had to be students in the dorm to raise an alarm if she yelled. As she did, the feeling and sensation of immobility- the paralytic feeling from her last encounter with this man, spread through the room.
 

If he hadn't been affected by her powers before, he would have been very concerned about the sudden feeling settling in his skin. Immobility. It wasn't real, he'd learned that in their last encounter. So he took a deep breath in and felt as his chest still moved, as his eyes fluttered shut. Something like this wasn't going to stop him. Something like this would not beat out his self control.

Sulphur sighed and closed the medical journal he had been reading from. He set it down, watching Beatrice as she tried to alert the rest of the dorm hall to her situation. He raised a finger to his lips, silently instructing her to be quiet. “Yelling and telling people I’m here will only get you shot. I’d rather not have to do that.”

He didn’t say that that was why he was there. To put a bullet between her eyes and end this, so that his brother would be at ease. After she was dead, he could activate the virus he’d buried in their systems at the company building he had broken into before. Then, it would be over. That was all that was needed. Sulphur watched Beatrice, to see what she would choose to do.

“Come and sit. Let’s have a conversation.”​
 
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Beatrice knew he had a gun, and was willing to shoot her. More concerningly, was that other people might be put at risk. She shouldn't have yelled, risking their lives. It was selfish. But...she always was a bit of a fuck up. She couldn't even be murdered properly it seemed.

Bea sat down in the desk chair across from him, meeting his eyes. She didn't know it but this time her own weren't grey, but mildly rainbow. Iridescent, almost like bismuth. She steeled herself, glancing down at his waistline, just to double check to see if she could discern the outline of his handgun. Then his eyes again. She remembered the feeling of his hands on her back as he had helped her sit.

"Did you decide to come finish the job. If so, I'd rather not have to endure another conversation." She said bravely. "Just...promise no one else get's hurt."

A worried expression crossed her face. Beatrice hadn't considered they might have gone after her uncle.
 

“I’ve been told to finish the job. But I don’t always do as I’m told.” He smiled slightly. Her eyes caught his and he watched them glitter and swirl with colors, fascinated by their change. “Instead, I’m going to encourage you one more time– stop this. Stop this cure nonsense. I don’t want to see any harm come to you or others over this.”

He broke eye contact to look back down at the medical journal. The hardback version he’d picked up had only recently been published, and contained the interview that Beatrice had done. He sighed under his breath as he looked at it. His gun pressed against his ribs under his arm where it rested in it’s holster. There was a short pause before he looked back up at her and something earnest slipped into his voice.

“Please. Make this easy on both of us. Just stop researching this. It isn’t going to work anyway.”​
 
"Did it ever occur to you that some meta's might want a choice in this? We've only gotten so far in research because of metahumans who want to help develop a cure." Beatrice swallowed comfortably, curling her fingers around the edges of her sleeves, trying to ignore his smile. "...Are you going to kill them too?"

There was something genuine in his tone that gave her pause. Beatrice had only really seen him as a man following orders, someone with no will of his own, but she suspected he might be more persuadable than she initially believed.

"If you want to rid the world of anyone that doesn't fit your perfect idea of what a meta is...I don't think you can claim moral superiority over the people who hate us for not fitting their version of an ideal human."
 
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