Marrow

Marrow. Part One.
By BrightEyes
Fandom: Oz/Law and Order: SVU/X-Men. Spoilers through season four of Oz.
Summary: Two new inmates at the Oswald State Penitentiary cause scandal and angst inside and outside the walls.
Warnings: Slash (m/m), Angst, Underage Character, Descriptions of Abuse, Issues of Consent: non-con and rape, Violence, Adult Language and Situations.
Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me. I’m not making money. Don’t sue me, please. This is fantasy adult fiction: rape and sex with minors is NOT OKAY in the real world, got it?
Feedback: Please. To brighteyedjill@yahoo.com.
IMPORTANT NOTE: If the line breaks look funny, click the "Enlarge Font" or "Shrink Font" Buttons on the bar at the top of the page until the format is correct. Happy reading.

“But the effort, the effort! And as the marrow is eaten out of a man's bones and the
soul out of his belly, contending with the strange rapacity of savage life, the lower stage
of creation, he cannot make the effort any more."
-Cicero

SVU Squad Room, New York City
Olivia Benson flipped through the day’s transcript. In the evening, with nothing to
go home to but an empty apartment, she had time. She desperately wanted to know how
Alex had done, how she had handled this particular witness. Even on paper, Olivia could
hear the soft, lilting Cajun accent of the kid, the defendant, Benjamin Landry. She
couldn’t imagine him in a suit, sitting at the defense table. Her only image was of him in
interview room four, beat-up jeans and a t-shirt, ratty tennis shoes and unruly, brown
curls falling into his eyes as Fin put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from getting
up. What had come up at trial that Landry hadn’t said in that room? She flipped to the
second page of the transcript.


Pg. 2 Trial Part 22 State vs. Landry
Honorable Judge Irving Lawrence, presiding
Asst. District Attorney Alexandra Cabbot: prosecuting attorney
Matthew Solomon: counsel for the defense
Benjamin Landry: defendant.

MS: Tell me about your relationship with the Castille family.
BL: I’ve known Henri Castille since I was little. He’d hang out at school to play sports
in the afternoons, and I hung out there cuz I had nowhere else to go. The older boys let
me chase balls and run to the gas station down the street to get ‘em Cokes. Henri was real
nice to me. He would invite me over to his house for dinner sometimes, which I liked
‘cuz it meant I got something good to eat.
MS: And that’s where you met Henri’s father.
BL: Yes, Mr. Castille. Henri’s mom was dead, so he had a nanny, who was Creole.
Mr. Castille asked about my folks, and he found out I was a ward of the state, with no
one looking after me, really. Mr. Castille told me I was free to come over to the house
whenever I wanted. And I did spend a lot of time at the Castille’s house, one of those big
plantation-style houses, in a real nice neighborhood.
MS: What was your relationship to Mr. Castille?
BL: My relationship? Well, when Henri wasn’t home, Mr. Castille would talk to me.
It’s not that he wasn’t nice; I didn’t really know how to act around a grown up, specially
a gentlemen like Mr. Castille. But he was real interested in me. The summer I turned
eleven, Henri went to camp for the summer, but Mr. Castille said I should stay with him
at the house, and he gave me a guest room. That was when I started doing special things
for him.
MS: What do you mean by special things?
BL: Well. Things.
MS: You mean sexual acts.
BL: Yeah.
MS: So you had a sexual relationship with Mr. Remy Castille.
BL: Yeah.
MS: How did Henri Castille react to that?
BL: Well, when Henri came home, I didn’t want him to find out about me and his dad,
but I guess Mr. Castille told him. Anyway, we weren’t really friends no more after that,
but Henri wanted some of the same things his father did.
MS: You mean sex?
BL: Yes, sex.
MS: So you began a sexual relationship with Henri Castille?
BL: I guess.
MS: So you were having sexual relations with both Remy and Henri Castille.
BL: Yes.
MS: That’s all, your honor.
HJIL: Your witness, Ms. Cabbot.
AC: Mr. Landry, where were you officially living while you attended grade school?
BL: That would be St. Vincent’s, ma’am.
AC: St. Vincent’s Home for Boys.
BL: Yes ma’am.
AC: But you say that you were living with the Castilles.
BL: Yes.
AC: When was that?
BL: Well, from the summer of, um, 2003 until we came to New York, I guess.
AC: Which was when?
BL: In May.
AC: Of 2005?
BL: Yes ma’am.
AC: So you lived with the Castilles for three years.
BL: Yes.
AC: And during that time you were being sexually abused by Remy and Henri Castille?
BL: No.
AC: No? No you weren’t having sex with Remy and Henri Castille?
BL: No, I mean, I wasn’t being abused.
AC: I see. Do you know how old Remy Castille was in 2003?
BL: No, not really.
AC: Older than 18?
BL: Well, of course.
AC: Older than 20.
BL: Yes.
AC: Older than 30.
BL: Yes.
AC: Older than 40.
BL: I don’t know, ma’am. Maybe.
AC: Older than 50?
BL: No, no he wasn’t older than 50.
AC: Your honor, let the record show that Remy Castille was 54 years old during the
summer of 2003, the beginning of the alleged abuse. Mr. Landry, how old was Henri
Castille that summer?
BL: I know this for sure. He was going into ninth grade, and he was fourteen.
AC: And how old were you?
BL: Eleven, ma’am.
AC: Okay. Mr. Landry, you said that you didn’t want Henri Castille to find out about
the “special things” you did with his father. Can you tell me why that was?
BL: Well, they were private.
AC: Anything else?
BL: He was my friend, and I just didn’t want him to know.
AC: Because it was wrong, what Mr. Castille was doing to you?
BL: No, ma’am.
AC: Mr. Landry, do you know what statutory rape means?
MS: Objection, your honor.
HJIL: Sustained. You’ve made your point, Ms. Cabbot. Let’s move on.

“Hey.”

Olivia started at the sound of the voice, and turned to see the Assistant DA herself
standing in the door of the squad room, hands wrapped around a Starbuck’s cup. “Hey,
Alex.”

Alex Cabbot nodded to the papers open on Olivia’s desk. “That the transcript?”

Olivia turned the stapled packet over, a bit guiltily. “Yes.”

“So what do you think?”

Olivia sighed, leaning back in her chair and gesturing to Alex to help herself to
Munch’s unoccupied desk. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Alex, frowning, sipped her coffee. “I do what I have to. That kid doesn’t deserve
to be prosecuted in federal court, but that’s not my decision. Besides, with any luck his
testimony will be admissible when we try Remy Castille, even if Landry won’t testify
himself.”

“How is the case against Castille?” Olivia asked.

“Shoddy. Damn shoddy. Circumstantial evidence mostly. If we had Landry’s
testimony maybe, but…” She shrugged, frustrated.

“And Solomon still doesn’t want to deal?”

“No. It’s ridiculous, really. He can’t think he’s going to get an acquittal. He may
be hoping for a hung jury, that based on the kid’s age and circumstances some bleeding
heart jury member will refuse to convict, but aside from that, he’s got no case.”

“Maybe he knows something you don’t.”

“For the kid’s sake, I hope so. Landry could get the death penalty if they convict
on all the charges.”

“Jesus. Isn’t he too young for that?”

“Unfortunately, no. Ordinarily he would be, but since Mississippi is prosecuting
him as an adult, we have to follow suit under our “Once an Adult, Always an Adult”
clause. The same clause that says if you’re being tried as an adult, you’re old enough to
be killed.”

“Alex, that’s not what you’re asking for, is it?”

The ADA glared. “Of course not. I’ll recommend leniency when it comes to
sentencing, but I’d much rather not take the chance. Judge Lawrence is notoriously hard
on repeat violent offenders.”

“So really, if Solomon had Landry’s best interests at heart, he’d cut a deal with
you.”

“Yes. If he’s willing to give up Castille, we’d even give him man one instead of
murder two. Why is he protecting him?”

“Come on, Alex, you’ve never heard of a victim getting attached to his abuser?
Maybe Remy Castille is the only source of affection Landry’s ever known.”

“I just don’t get it, Olivia. You’re the expert on victims. Usually I get to help
make sure the perp gets what he deserves. This time it’s just not so black-and-white.”

“It seldom is,” Olivia observed glumly.

“No. I don’t want this kid to go to the gas chamber. Maybe Solomon will be ready
to deal once we hear the verdict from Mississippi.”

*********************************
Highway 55, Mississippi

Jean pressed the seek button on the Jeep’s consul, looking for a news station.
Country—country—rock—country—there. She turned up the volume.

“—the scene this morning. Benjamin Landry was convicted in absentia today at
the Mississippi State Courthouse. Landry was accused of using his so-called ‘mutant
abilities’ to damage the car in which Hancock county residents Jared and Ellen Davidson
were riding, sending the vehicle crashing off an overpass and killing the couple.

“In a controversial move, the prosecution filed a successful motion to suppress the
fact of Landry’s mutantcy, thereby preventing jurors, the press and the public from
knowing the nature and extent of Landry’s so-called ‘mutant abilities.’ District Attorney
Zachariah Beaumont claimed that his team was following the lead of prosecutors in a
similar New York case, who filed the motion to prevent accusations of discrimination
against the defendant based on his mutantcy.

“Landry could not be present at his trial here in Mississippi because he is facing
murder charges in New York state, where he is being held without bail. He had declined
his right to participate in this trial. Landry will be transferred to the Oswald State
Penitentiary in New York, where he will remain pending the outcome of his trial in that
state.

“This case has stirred up discussion about the future of mutants in our state’s
criminal justice system. We go now to reporter Lance-”

Scott switched off the radio, seething. “That’s four precedents,” he growled, his
knuckles turning white as he gripped the Jeep’s steering wheel.

“Yeah. Four states in which I’m a deadly weapon,” offered Logan from the back
seat. “Thought they’d never catch on.”

“It’s not funny,” Jean said. She turned around to meet Logan’s eyes. “Now a
mutant can be accused of ‘criminal possession of a deadly weapon’ for simply existing.
And any mutant who gets charged with any kind of violent crime will probably face
‘assault with a deadly weapon’ charges, even if they didn’t use their powers. That’s more
jail time, even increased possibility of the death penalty in some states.”

“But this guy did, right? Use his powers to commit a crime?” Logan asked.

“Maybe. He didn’t even get a chance to explain about his mutant powers, since
that aspect of the case was barred from courtroom discussion,” Jean said. “So basically,
the prosecutors didn’t have to prove that he used his powers; all they had to do was
suggest it, then object whenever the defense mentioned it.”

“At least the New York prosecutor hasn’t done the same thing,” said Scott. “We
can only hope that the second trail will be fairer.”

“Yeah. I’m not really in the mood for another farce,” growled Logan. Nodding in
agreement, Scott pushed the accelerator, sending the Jeep speeding north across the
Mississippi line.

**********************************
Oswald State Penitentiary, New York

McManus flopped down in a chair in Warden Glynn’s office, and glared at the
man behind the desk. “May I ask why you feel the need to put every celebrity, problem
child, and ‘special case’ in Em City? They’re supposed to be a group of normal prisoners,
not, well, not this!”

Leo Glynn raised an eyebrow. “So you want me to put a thirteen-year-old in
GenPop?”

“Of course not!” McManus shouted, sitting up.

Glynn shrugged. “Then what, Tim?”

McManus backed down, somewhat at a loss. “I don’t know. I can’t guarantee
he’ll be any safer in Em City.”

“Well, you’ve already got one mutant. Maybe they’ll help each other,” Glynn
suggested, the hint of a smile in his brown eyes.

“Well, there’s that. Or maybe they’ll team up and murder all my COs.”

Now Glynn leaned forward in concern. “I thought you said Finnessey wasn’t
dangerous.”

“I said he didn’t seem dangerous. That’s different. Nowhere in his record does it
say what his abilities are. He could be very dangerous, and just biding his time. I have no
idea,” said McManus, slouching again.

“How does he do on work detail?”

“Work detail? Fine. More than fine. Gloria says that if I move him, she’ll quit. So
I guess he’s making himself useful.”

“I guess his being a mutant doesn’t interfere with his being a doctor.”

“No, but being a doctor also doesn’t make him a good guy, Leo. Remember
The Fugitive?”

“Tim, that doctor was innocent.”
“Yeah, well, still.”

“So you’ll take Benjamin Landry, then?”

“I guess so. I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“No. No you don’t.”

**********************************

Oz: Infirmary

“One-twenty over eighty.” Abel Finnessey pulled the blood pressure cuff off
Kareem Said’s arm and marked something on the chart in his other hand. “Any feelings
of light-headedness, nausea, or chest pains?” Said shook his head, and Finnessey made
another mark. “Still taking your meds?” Said nodded. Finnessey looked him in the eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” replied the Muslim leader. Finnessey marked the chart.

“Okay, then. You’re done. Officer?” A blue-uniformed CO stepped forward to
lead Said back to Em City. Dr. Gloria Nathan came out of her office, taking stock of the
ebb and flow of patients through her sick ward. Seeing Finnessey, she moved to intercept
him. He handed her the chart.

“How’s Said?” she asked as she glanced over the paper and initialed at the
bottom.

“Stable. The Zoltanolin seems to be working. I gave Rebadow his insulin, Guerra
got twenty milligrams of Acetaminophen for a fever, I think it’s going around, Pascow
came in with it earlier, and they have work detail together, and O’Reilly- Ryan- came in
while you were with the Warden. Sprained ankle. I gave him an ice pack and told him
you’d be busy for a while. He’s gone,” said Finnessey with his characteristic efficiency.
He took the chart back from Gloria and set it in a pile for filing.

“Thanks, Abel. Are you done for today?” Gloria asked.

“Almost. They just brought in Robson with some kind of a genital rash. Probably
an STD. I was going to take care of that and then be done,” he said. Then, smiling,
“Unless you want to.”

Gloria smiled back. “No, you can handle the Nazi venereal disease, I think. I’ll do
the paperwork. See you tomorrow, then.” She watched the tall doctor disappear behind a
curtain. Sometimes it was so easy to forget he was a prisoner. He’d made her job much
less stressful since he’d been assigned to work detail in the infirmary. He seemed just like
another colleague. Finnessey was more than capable, he was good. Gloria had gathered
from gossip that on the outside he’d been some hot-shot research doctor in the new and
controversial “mutant medicine” field. With him around, her job seemed almost easy.

Almost. She sighed at that thought, and took the pile of papers needing
filing, Said’s included, into her office. Tim McManus was sitting in front of her desk,
reading some file of his own. Oh McManus. Gloria set the files on top of a
cabinet, knowing they would have to wait. When did Tim McManus ever come with
good news?

“Hey Tim,” she said, sliding into her chair behind the desk. “What’s going on?”

The assistant warden looked up from his file. “Well, nothing too special. Just a
new inmate. Kind of a special case. I thought you might want a heads up.”

I thought you might want an excuse to talk to me, Gloria thought, but she
said, “Well, then. What’s so special?”

Tim gave her his almost-smile in appreciation of her directness. He held up the
file in his hand. “Another mutant. Benjamin Landry. Seen him in the news?”

Gloria shrugged. “No. I don’t really follow the show trials.”

Tim winced, almost imperceptibly. Gloria’s big heart, and probably her own
experiences as a Latina, had made her sympathetic to all kinds of civil rights causes, most
recently, mutants. True, there had been many mutant trials in the news recently due to a
new state law that included mutant powers in the category of “deadly weapon.” Still, it
wasn’t as if the state were on a mutant witch-hunt. They were just adapting laws to deal
with a changing society. In any case, McManus could see that Gloria wasn’t exactly
thrilled with the new surge of anti-mutant public opinion. He gritted his teeth before
formulating a reply. “Mutant or not, Gloria, Benjamin Landry’s a murderer. He’s been
convicted in Mississippi, and they say that his trial here is practically a foregone
conclusion-”

“Big surprise,” Gloria interjected.

McManus soldiered on. “And so he’s going to be starting his sentence at Oz. If
New York convicts, he’ll stay here. If not, he’ll go back to Mississippi.”

“All right,” said Gloria. “So aside from the fact that he’s a mutant, is he anything
special? Anything I need to worry about as a doctor?”

Reminded that he had indeed come here claiming special circumstances, he
struggled to bring the conversation back around to his point. “Not as such. I just… Well,
I want an extra pair of eyes looking out for him. If you don’t mind.”

“Is he dangerous? Is that what you’re saying?” she bristled.

“No, nothing like that,” McManus said. “Gloria, he’s thirteen years old.”

******************

Oz: Processing Room

“Those of you going to Emerald City, listen up. In Emerald City we got rules, got
a lot more rules than anywhere else in Oz. Your cell is your home, keep it clean, spotless.
You are to exercise regularly, attend classes and go to drug and alcohol counseling. You
are to do your work assignment. You are to follow the routine. We tell you when to sleep,
when to eat, when to piss. There is no yelling, no fighting, no fucking. Follow the rules,
and we’ll get along. Questions? These are your sponsors. They’ll help you get adjusted to
life in Oz. Alan Jameson, Augustus Hill. Kevin Irey, Agamemnon Busmalis. Benjamin
Landry, Vernon Schillin-jer.”

“That’s Schillin-ger, lady. Shill-in-ger, okay?”

The CO rolled her eyes. “Grab your stuff, let’s go,” she ordered the new inmates.

Vernon Schillinger turned to his new charge. As Hill and Busmalis filed out with
their new friends, that only left… Well I’ll be damned, Vern thought, looking at
the man- no, the boy- sitting on the bench, big brown eyes fixed on him expectantly. The
kid rose, clutching his pile of sheets and TP; he only came up to Schillinger’s nose.
Now isn’t that cute. The boy’s hair was brown and curly, and as he smiled shyly,
one side of his face dimpled. Schillinger felt a stirring just below his belly.

“I’m Benjamin Landry,” said the kid. His voice was unexpected: soft and a little
husky, with a gentle Southern accent. Yes, that definitely produced a stir. “You mus’ be
Mister Schillinger.”

Kid‘s a quick learner. Even Robson can’t get my fucking name right. Schillinger
spared the kid a friendly smile. “That’s me. Come on, we’ll get you set up.” The two
strode along the corridor behind the other four cons, and got buzzed into Em City.

Schillinger watched his sponser-ee gape at the wonderland of glass and metal as
he steered him up the stairs. McManus must hate this kid. Either that or not know
whose turn it is to sponsor, Schillinger reflected as he ushered his new catch into
their pod. “Home sweet home.”

Landry took in the sparse cell at a glance, and set his pile on the bunk. “Guess I’m
on the bottom,” he said in that fine voice.

“Guess so.” Schillinger allowed himself a grin. He moved in closer to the boy.
“So, Ben, got any tattoos?”

“You Benjamin Landry?”

Damnit. Schillinger jerked his head around to see Officer Sean Murphy
standing at the door of the pod. Just when we were getting started.

“Yes, sir, I’m Landry.”

“McManus wants to see you.” Murphy held the door open and looked expectantly
at Landry. Landry looked confused. “The assistant warden, kid. Come on.” With only a
quick, tense glance at Schillinger, Em City’s newest resident slunk out into the quad
under Murphy’s watchful eye.
*********

SVU Squad Room, New York City

“What do you mean he’s already in Oswald?” Olivia Benson hissed. Her partner,
Elliot Stabler, watched cautiously from his desk, ready to intervene in the event of a
meltdown.

“Solomon says Landry won’t be testifying anymore. Not at his own trial, and not
at Castille’s,” Alex Cabbot explained. She was at least as mad as Benson, Stabler
observed, but hers was a cooler anger, having simmered over hours. She was not, he
decided, any less likely to melt down.

“Then we don’t have a case against Castille. None. The creep won’t talk to us
without his lawyer, he won’t admit anything, one witness is dead, the other witness is
refusing to testify, there’s no physical evidence,” raved Benson. “Could this case possibly
be any worse?”

“How about that the victim of this creep is locked up on charges that are
exaggerated at best, possible unconstitutional, at a maximum security state penitentiary
where he will likely be subjected to the same brutality and abuse perpetrated on him by a
privileged white man we can’t put away?” Munch offered.

Two angry glares pierced him from across the room. “Thank you, John, that’s just
what the conversation needed,” Stabler muttered. He stood and grabbed his jacket from
the back of his chair. “Come on, Olivia. Let’s take a drive.”

“Where?” asked his partner, raising an eyebrow.

“To Oswald. Maybe once he’s seen the place, he’ll be more willing to talk.”

***************

Oz: Emerald City

McManus was digging inside a desk drawer when Sean Murphy knocked on his
office door. “Yeah,” he called absently. “Come on in.” Murphy closed the door gently
behind him, and moved to stand in front of his boss’s desk.

“Tim, this is crazy,” he began.

Tim McManus popped up from behind the desk, earnest face marred by a deeply
furrowed brow. “Huh? What’s crazy?”

Murphy sat down on the edge of a chair. “This kid. Landry. Have you seen him?
Do you know whose pod he’s in?”

McManus frowned. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

“You mean you put him with Vern Schillinger on purpose?”

“Yes. I don’t think Schillinger will hurt him. Really.”

Murphy shook his head skeptically. “The fucking Nazi killed his own son, Tim.
Why wouldn’t he hurt this kid?”

McManus smiled. “Well, I’ll be watching them very closely, and everyone else
will too. There’s such a thing as statutory rape, you know. If Vern Schillinger touches
that boy, there’s no shortage of people that will narc on him.”

Still uncomfortable, Murphy shrugged. “That’s as good a plan as any, I suppose.
Don’t know who else you could put him with. Beecher, maybe.”

“And separate Beecher from Keller again?” McManus laughed without mirth.
“No, thank you. Not that Beecher is a very stable or calming influence anyway.”

“What about the other mutant? Finnessey?”

“If they want to get together and have mutant pride parades in their free time,
that’s fine with me. But we’ve just gotten Finnessey stable. He’s working, he’s doing
okay, he’s a great help to Doctor Nathan. I don’t want to upset that balance. And I don’t
really want them encouraging each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you or any of the other COs want to try your batons against mutant powers?”

Murphy paled. “No, Tim. Not at all.”

“Then Schillinger it is, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” agreed Murphy, rising. “I’ll send in Landry.”

************

Oz: Warden’s Office

“Warden? There’s a Dr. Grey with the Mutant Rights Defense League here to see
you,” Floria’s voice came over the intercom.

Leo Glynn looked at his watch. 4:20. Just what he needed at the end of the day.
An unexpected guest. An unexpected, political guest. But if he saw this doctor now, he
could claim to have another appointment before the end of the day. And besides,
Glynn thought. If I deal with him now, maybe this Mutant Rights guy won’t come
back. He pushed the talkback button. “Send him in, Floria.”

“Yes sir,” replied his secretary; did she sound amused?

Glynn settled himself back in his chair, ready for some verbal sparring. The door
to his office opened, admitting his guest. Oh, was all Glynn could think. Tall, red-
headed, long-legged guest. Who says mutants are all bad?

“I’m Dr. Jean Grey,” said the guest, extending a hand, which Glynn shook
automatically. “Sorry to show up without an appointment. But I just got in from
Mississippi, and it’s urgent that I speak with you.”

“Yes. I’m Warden Glynn. Leo Glynn,” he managed. Business, he
reminded himself. This is prison business. Get it together. “So, how may I help
you, Doctor?”

“Well, I was hoping that I could help you.” Her smile was really quite dazzling.
“Did you know that you’re one of only three state penitentiaries nationwide that house
identified mutants who have been convicted of a violent crime?”

No, I didn’t know that. How did she? “We have two, in fact.”

“Yes, I know. Benjamin Landry and Abel Finnessey.”

She’s done her research. Glynn was impressed, despite himself. It was never good
when the political element had too many facts. It meant they were preparing to make a
point. “That’s correct.”

“You’re the only institution that doesn’t use the so-called ‘Smart Collar’ to
suppress mutant’s natural abilities.”

Glynn frowned at the memories. “No. That device didn’t work with our program.”

Dr. Grey gifted him with a brilliant smile. “You have no idea how glad I am to
hear you say that, Warden. I think that any correctional facility that wishes its prisoners
to have some chance at rehabilitation would necessarily rule out the use of a punishment
which renders a person helpless and catatonic. Don’t you?”

Glynn blinked twice, then nodded. “It did have very… destructive effects on the
inmate we used it on.” Was it his imagination, or did this woman look a little more alert,
as if listening for something very quiet.

“So you discontinued use of the Smart Collar because of the adverse effects on
the health of an inmate?”

“Yes,” Glynn replied slowly, trying to sense if he was walking into a trap.

“Interesting,” Dr. Grey mused before switching gears. “So how do you deal with
your mutant inmates now that you’ve discarded the Smart Collar?”

“Well, our SORT team carries an experimental device,” began Glynn, glad to be
moving on from the reminder of an unpleasant failure. “Like a mutant scanner, it’s able
to detect the different brainwave patterns of mutants and disrupt them.”

The doctor was frowning again. “So you could debilitate all the mutants within
range of this weapon.”

“That’s the idea. If a SORT team couldn’t take out a mutant by normal means,
because of interference from a mutant’s abilities that is, this device serves as a backup
means of control, not to mention a guard on the safety of my correctional officers.”

“Interesting,” she said again. “I came here to propose a deal.”

Where to now? worried Glynn. With this doctor switching from point to
point, it was difficult to see her goal, and that bothered the warden. “What kind of deal
did you have in mind?”

Dr. Grey sat up a little straighter, ready to do business. “I can arrange for teachers
from the Xavier school to provide counseling and training for your mutant inmates to
help them control their powers.”

Glynn sat back in his chair—when had he leaned forward?- and frowned. “I’m not
sure that would be a good thing, Doctor. Isn’t that as good as giving them a weapon?”

“Not at all, Warden. It’s like sex education,” she began as if she’d given this
speech before, which Glynn imagined she had. “If you teach only abstinence, you leave
people open to make mistakes when they inevitably give in to sex drive. If you also teach
safe sex, then when the inevitable occurs, nobody gets hurt. You see, most mutant-
ability-related violence occurs because the mutant isn’t trained and doesn’t know how to
control his or her abilities. The abilities can manifest with anger or fear whether the
mutant wants them to or not. With training, a mutant can learn to separate their abilities
from emotion, so that accidents are less likely to occur. Does that make sense?” Glynn
nodded, beginning to understand. “So training your mutant inmates and offering them
counseling in dealing with their abilities would make them less dangerous, and help them
prepare to re-enter society,” Dr. Grey concluded easily. Glynn had to admire her polish.

“If we did allow this training, what would you ask for in return?”

“Simple.” Dr. Grey leaned forward, sensing a deal was near, ready to close it. “I
would like to talk to some inmates and staff about their experiences with the Smart
Collar. The Mutant Rights Defense League is putting together a law-suit against the
company that makes them. They’re inhumane; I know you’ve seen that.”

Glynn thought for a moment, but he knew he’d made his decision. Now he only
had to figure out how to explain it to his superiors, and the rest of his staff. “All right, Dr.
Grey. Let’s work out the details.”