Status: Updated on random occasions
Invictus
Division X
I silently thanked Charles for the change of subject and for the stoplight to be put back on Coulson, not me. My boss cleared his throat before starting a very long narrative. “Right. As I said before Richter has been with the CIA for over 15 years now. She was actually what prompted the creation of Division X, even though Gabrielle herself is not a formal member. No one outside of the Division knows of her mutation, which is surprisingly easily due to the lack of personal contact between special agents and their commanders.“
I made myself more comfortable by slouching in the metal chair and folding my arms across my chest as I prepared for Coulson’s usual long-winded speech. “I want to ask each of you, all of you, to officially join Division X. Long-term.” My boss looked around the table.
“Why?” My voice was matched by that of the other man; whose name I had finally learned was Erik Lensherr.
“What do you mean ‘why’?” Coulson asked to me specifically. In all the years Phil Coulson had been my boss, I had never asked ‘why’ in regard to a mission. In reality, I didn’t need to ask him. Everything was in the large manila folder he would give me before each assignment. But this request apparently did not come with a manila folder.
“I mean ‘why me’?” I said while correcting my posture. I don’t like teams or teamwork. I don’t even really like people in general. Coulson knew that. Why would he force me into something I didn’t want to do? I was probably being a childish about the whole thing, but I didn’t care.
“Why not you? You’re the first mutant to ever work with and for the United States of America. You are the most qualified and experienced agent the CIA has. You’ve never failed a mission. You’ve bought down numerous dictators and warlords and you’ve saved countless of lives in the process. You’re the best of what you do. Why shouldn’t you be involved in the first-ever mutant team organized by the U.S?” Coulson said with a small hint of sarcasm.
His adulation still didn’t convince me but I remained silent and returned to my lounged state. Everything Coulson said was true but I wasn’t exactly worried about my competence. I attributed my anti-social behavior mostly to my mutations. Though, I believe some of it could be blamed on my childhood, or lack of. When you can’t touch people without causing them severe pain, you tend to avoid personal contact and people altogether.
Coulson completely ignored Erik’s objection and focused only on the woman’s. He then berated her with what was practically adoration. Clearly the two had history together. Coulson was confused as to why Gabriele would refused a position she had evidently deserved. Erik wasn’t sure if he wanted a part in the whole things either. He had been dragged into this by Charles.
“What exactly would be the point of our involvement?” Richter said avoiding the previous question.
Coulson seemed happy that she appeared to have changed her mind about the whole thing. “At the moment, our main object to is find Sebastian Shaw and prevent whatever it is he’s planning.
Division X was located just north of Richmond, Virginia. The large secret base was surrounded by dense forest and was only accessible by a long winding single line road which was in great need of repair. The complex was full of countless offices and laboratories. It even had its own airbase. I rarely visited the base even though I had entire office reserved just for me. When I wasn’t on assignment for the CIA, I lived and spent the majority of my time in a small apartment in north Seattle.
A day had pasted since the incident in Miami and I had barely spoken to anyone, including Coulson. I was still a bit upset at him for involving in his little organization. I was in so much distress that I was late for the tour. I found the group just as they were walking into one of the research laboratories. “So nice of you to show up, Richter.” Coulson said with sarcasm as I walked next to him, ignoring the others behind me.
“You’re lucky I’m even here. I could think of a thousand more ways I would prefer to spend my morning.” I said with my own hint of sarcasm. “Brazil plays Argentina in an hour.”
“Speaking of Argentina, did he hear about Eichmann?” It took every inch of my self-control to keep from striking Coulson for his insensitive change of subject. Instead, I simply nodded my head yes. “I figured you would be more concerned?” Even without looking, I knew the others were listening. While they had limited knowledge of what Coulson and I were talking about, I disliked discussing the subject in front of other people.
When I spoke, my tone was noticeably incensed and rude. I was intent on ending this certain conversation topic. “Why should I be? Just because Adolf Eichmann practically saved my life doesn’t mean he shouldn’t pay for the millions of lives he did destroy. After all, it was me who caught him.”
“I thought the Mossad caught Eichmann?” Erik asked from his spot behind Charles and Raven.
“It was actually a joint-operation between Israel and the U.S. But America let Israel take all the credit. Especially after Argentina threw a fit. It took a week after we captured him to return to Israel because the Mossad agents weren’t sure it was Eichmann even though I kept telling them it was. So they put an SS cap on him and compared him to a twenty-year old picture of Eichmann in his SS uniform.” I said, matter-of-factly. My mission with the Mossad last year was the first time I ever work with other people. I hoped it would be my last.
“But I thought you believe his defense?” Coulson asked a minute my explanation. This whole conversation had gone on much too long.
“I believed his defense because I lived it. The entire time I was at Mauthausen, all Eichmann did was complain about death-camp quotas not being fulfilled, about the problems of getting all French Jews to the camps, and about the intermittent failure of the Italians to cooperate. The man was following orders on everything he did, except for, probably, his actions in regard to me. But following orders does not relieve one of guilt.” I said, wishing desperately for a change of subject. At this point, I might as well had gone ahead and reveal all my secrets (which weren’t really secrets, just sensitive areas in my past.)
But my wish for a change of topic was delayed when Erik asked another question. “How exactly did Adolf Eichmann, one of the major organizers of the Holocaust, save your life?” He voice held what seemed to be his typical amount of disdain and cynicism.
The answer to his question was one that needed a preamble, another thing I did not wish to divulge. But I was too far in to not answer his question. “When the Nazis at Dachau learned of my inability to die in the gas chambers, they sent me to Mauthausen in Austria. The doctors, at the order of higher ranks, ran numerous experiments on me. Everything from harmless blood work to torture. When higher officials felt they had learned all they could from me, they insisted that I be disposed of by any means necessary. I was standing in front of a firing guard when Eichmann suggested that I be kept alive until the Nazi’s were able to grow and replicate my cells. They never did figure how to get my cells grow.”
In order to cut off any more questions, I added, “But I didn’t wake up this early to answer question about myself.” My tone, which was probably a rude one, caused the conversation to digress back to Division X.
I made myself more comfortable by slouching in the metal chair and folding my arms across my chest as I prepared for Coulson’s usual long-winded speech. “I want to ask each of you, all of you, to officially join Division X. Long-term.” My boss looked around the table.
“Why?” My voice was matched by that of the other man; whose name I had finally learned was Erik Lensherr.
“What do you mean ‘why’?” Coulson asked to me specifically. In all the years Phil Coulson had been my boss, I had never asked ‘why’ in regard to a mission. In reality, I didn’t need to ask him. Everything was in the large manila folder he would give me before each assignment. But this request apparently did not come with a manila folder.
“I mean ‘why me’?” I said while correcting my posture. I don’t like teams or teamwork. I don’t even really like people in general. Coulson knew that. Why would he force me into something I didn’t want to do? I was probably being a childish about the whole thing, but I didn’t care.
“Why not you? You’re the first mutant to ever work with and for the United States of America. You are the most qualified and experienced agent the CIA has. You’ve never failed a mission. You’ve bought down numerous dictators and warlords and you’ve saved countless of lives in the process. You’re the best of what you do. Why shouldn’t you be involved in the first-ever mutant team organized by the U.S?” Coulson said with a small hint of sarcasm.
His adulation still didn’t convince me but I remained silent and returned to my lounged state. Everything Coulson said was true but I wasn’t exactly worried about my competence. I attributed my anti-social behavior mostly to my mutations. Though, I believe some of it could be blamed on my childhood, or lack of. When you can’t touch people without causing them severe pain, you tend to avoid personal contact and people altogether.
Coulson completely ignored Erik’s objection and focused only on the woman’s. He then berated her with what was practically adoration. Clearly the two had history together. Coulson was confused as to why Gabriele would refused a position she had evidently deserved. Erik wasn’t sure if he wanted a part in the whole things either. He had been dragged into this by Charles.
“What exactly would be the point of our involvement?” Richter said avoiding the previous question.
Coulson seemed happy that she appeared to have changed her mind about the whole thing. “At the moment, our main object to is find Sebastian Shaw and prevent whatever it is he’s planning.
*
Division X was located just north of Richmond, Virginia. The large secret base was surrounded by dense forest and was only accessible by a long winding single line road which was in great need of repair. The complex was full of countless offices and laboratories. It even had its own airbase. I rarely visited the base even though I had entire office reserved just for me. When I wasn’t on assignment for the CIA, I lived and spent the majority of my time in a small apartment in north Seattle.
A day had pasted since the incident in Miami and I had barely spoken to anyone, including Coulson. I was still a bit upset at him for involving in his little organization. I was in so much distress that I was late for the tour. I found the group just as they were walking into one of the research laboratories. “So nice of you to show up, Richter.” Coulson said with sarcasm as I walked next to him, ignoring the others behind me.
“You’re lucky I’m even here. I could think of a thousand more ways I would prefer to spend my morning.” I said with my own hint of sarcasm. “Brazil plays Argentina in an hour.”
“Speaking of Argentina, did he hear about Eichmann?” It took every inch of my self-control to keep from striking Coulson for his insensitive change of subject. Instead, I simply nodded my head yes. “I figured you would be more concerned?” Even without looking, I knew the others were listening. While they had limited knowledge of what Coulson and I were talking about, I disliked discussing the subject in front of other people.
When I spoke, my tone was noticeably incensed and rude. I was intent on ending this certain conversation topic. “Why should I be? Just because Adolf Eichmann practically saved my life doesn’t mean he shouldn’t pay for the millions of lives he did destroy. After all, it was me who caught him.”
“I thought the Mossad caught Eichmann?” Erik asked from his spot behind Charles and Raven.
“It was actually a joint-operation between Israel and the U.S. But America let Israel take all the credit. Especially after Argentina threw a fit. It took a week after we captured him to return to Israel because the Mossad agents weren’t sure it was Eichmann even though I kept telling them it was. So they put an SS cap on him and compared him to a twenty-year old picture of Eichmann in his SS uniform.” I said, matter-of-factly. My mission with the Mossad last year was the first time I ever work with other people. I hoped it would be my last.
“But I thought you believe his defense?” Coulson asked a minute my explanation. This whole conversation had gone on much too long.
“I believed his defense because I lived it. The entire time I was at Mauthausen, all Eichmann did was complain about death-camp quotas not being fulfilled, about the problems of getting all French Jews to the camps, and about the intermittent failure of the Italians to cooperate. The man was following orders on everything he did, except for, probably, his actions in regard to me. But following orders does not relieve one of guilt.” I said, wishing desperately for a change of subject. At this point, I might as well had gone ahead and reveal all my secrets (which weren’t really secrets, just sensitive areas in my past.)
But my wish for a change of topic was delayed when Erik asked another question. “How exactly did Adolf Eichmann, one of the major organizers of the Holocaust, save your life?” He voice held what seemed to be his typical amount of disdain and cynicism.
The answer to his question was one that needed a preamble, another thing I did not wish to divulge. But I was too far in to not answer his question. “When the Nazis at Dachau learned of my inability to die in the gas chambers, they sent me to Mauthausen in Austria. The doctors, at the order of higher ranks, ran numerous experiments on me. Everything from harmless blood work to torture. When higher officials felt they had learned all they could from me, they insisted that I be disposed of by any means necessary. I was standing in front of a firing guard when Eichmann suggested that I be kept alive until the Nazi’s were able to grow and replicate my cells. They never did figure how to get my cells grow.”
In order to cut off any more questions, I added, “But I didn’t wake up this early to answer question about myself.” My tone, which was probably a rude one, caused the conversation to digress back to Division X.