Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 62 5/28/22 (WIP)

Post by dreamon »

Really missing this!!!
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 62 5/28/22 (WIP)

Post by behrinthecity »

dreamon- I am so sorry for how much time has past! I am mostly recuperated from my hospitalization (long story short-- anemia is way more debilitating than I expected, but dietary changes are helping to reduce body weakness/dizzy spells). Anyway, your message is good timing-- I am currently reviewing what I HAD written and fixing the pacing. Meaning look out for it towards the end of this week.

Thank you for your earlier messages as well. <3

- Thank you for your message as well. Your 'fix' is coming!! :lol:
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 62 5/28/22 (WIP)

Post by dreamon »

Nice to hear from you and see that you are doing better! Looking forward to the new part as well 😀
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 62 5/28/22 (WIP)

Post by keepsmiling7 »

This is good news that something might be coming soon.

We're sorry for all of the problems you have endured.
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Part 63

Post by behrinthecity »

Thank you dreamon and keepsmiling7! Apologies for the extra delay-- had added more to Michael and Max's conversation. So Liz and Cal are in the next part!

By the way, one sentence of dialogue is supposed to be in smaller font, but I don't see a difference in the preview. Do let me know if you see anything that looks smaller.


[From Part 22]
“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes.” The first time it had stunned Max into silence, bringing tears to his eyes as he remembered all the horrible things he had done to his friends and family before coming in here. Being here was his punishment. Now he answered automatically with a masked face hiding any emotion he may have felt.

“Do you understand your rights in being here?”

“I have none.” The first time he had been momentarily confused, but once he understood what was being asked of him, his voice broke at the question. Now it remained flat and dead.

The doctor would nod, taking down his last notes. Then patting Max on the knee, he would signal to the agents in the back of the room.

[From Part 32]
“Do you have the equipment?” The general did not bother with pleasantries, being out there was risk enough.

The agent calmly turned his head and glanced down at an insulated briefcase by his side. “It should be more than adequate.”

Nodding sternly, the general motioned towards his car. “Let’s take a look, then.”

The two men settled into the car, casually glancing over their shoulders for any possible lurkers. Handing over the case, Felding finally broached the true subject of their meeting. “Are you sure you won’t require any further samples?”

The general’s lips lifted slightly in a satisfied smile. “We’ve achieved our first goal. This should tide us over until we can cultivate more from the new specimens. Let him rest in peace.”

[From Part 47]
“No!!! Liz is NOT… NOT EVER going to find out what happened to me!!”

Isabel leaned back, taken aback at the vehemence in Max’s voice, and how he was able to gather the strength in his voice to shout. “But Max—”

“NO! She already saw too much the first time, because I couldn’t control it.” Shaking his head, he pushed against the bed to stand up. His whole body wavered, partially from physical weakness, partially from fear and anger. Isabel stood up too. But before she could speak again, Max cried out, “I WON’T LET HER!”

[From Part 61]
Unable to withstand the burning trails in his veins Max fell to his knees, crying out. Teal coloured energy shot from his hands. Glass from the lamps beside him exploded— raining shattered shards in sparkling arcs. The nearest bench awkwardly flipped away—the loud thunk with each revolution revealing the weight of the bench.

A crackle resounded in the air.

Kneeling on the garden path, body taut and beginning to shake, Max was unaware that someone was approaching him.

Michael commented, “I found a basketball court while I was looking for you.” In a slightly goading tone, he asked, “You ready to lose again?”

Though them horsing around on the basketball court felt like a lifetime ago, Max’s competitive side instantly surfaced as he retorted with a smirk, “I believe that was you. But… we can start afresh…” Max magnanimously offered before adding “…it won’t take me long to prove that I’m the undisputed champ.”

[From Part 62]
Liz saw an executive summary detailing the testing done on specimen A5.

“Oh my God…” she breathed out.

Skimming through the text she saw lines remarking on A5’s… on Max’s capacity to withstand extreme temperatures, hold his breath under water, subsist on minimal food and sleep, and that he would be a great asset in the field with his powers of telekinesis, forming an energy shield, and healing.

She raised both hands to cover her gasp. They had begun to shape their perfect soldier in Max.

The last paragraph discussed a control mechanism to wield the powers as needed, and that test-runs on A5 yielded promising results.

Max was right. This chip was meant to turn him into a weapon.

But the way the Unit had physically abused Max it didn’t seem like they were grooming him to be the ultimate super soldier…

Her eyes widened as she remembered her vision of the Max clones. Finding Max, helping him, and the events of the past week had made her forget about them.

“What is it?” Max’s eyebrows were furrowed in confused apprehension over Liz’s reaction.

“The chip wasn’t meant to control you, Max.”

Max regarded Liz warily.

Liz took a deep breath bracing herself for what she had to tell Max.

“They cloned you. And when those clones are old enough, they’ll be a super soldier army.”

Liz knew the Special Unit was despicable. Just moments ago, they discovered this chip could control Max’s power. But to actually see how they did it… Liz could never have fathomed the utter horror the Unit inflicted on Max.

She screwed up her face trying desperately to stop the tears. After shaking her head a few times, she gave in and let the dam break.

Burrowing her head into Max’s chest, her tears flowed freely.

“I’m sorry, Max. I’m so, so sorry.”

She felt the warmth of Max’s arms as they wrapped around her.

Soothing murmurs from Max only made her cry harder.

After all he endured… and what he was still suffering… he still looked out for her. In between her sobs, she gasped out, “It’s not right… how could they…it’s not…” Her cries swallowed her protesting words.

She didn’t know how long she cried into Max’s chest.


Once more the chip was in her mind’s eye, nestled in the brainstem.

She felt Max direct their energy towards it. The energy bathed the chip in white light. As the light dissipated, she saw the chip no longer had its raised components. It was now a dull matte square.

Liz asked in a hush voice, “Did it work?”

His voice rough and weary, Max answered, “It can’t be activated now.




The curved leather of the basketball was smooth against Max’s palm as he steadily dribbled. He initially had found it odd to not feel the pockmarked texture that the ones he used to play with back in Roswell had. But at the physical feedback of the ball bouncing back against his hand, he slipped into an almost meditative state.


For once he did not think of anything, the slow rhythm of the ball quieted his usually crowded thoughts. There were no haunting and bittersweet memories nor any malicious taunts. There was no sharp metal or stiff rubber chafing his skin. It was just him, the ball, and the court…


“You going to throw the ball any time soon?”

Michael’s impatient voice broke Max out of his daze.

“Just getting my bearings,” Max muttered before he easily tossed the ball through the net.

“Nothing but net.” Max’s self-congratulatory statement was hardly celebratory in his tired, monotone voice.

Taking control of the ball as it bounced back onto the court, Michael held it and faced Max. His eyes carefully studied Max, concern bleeding into his tone, “You okay?”

Max’s eyes narrowed with indignance. Grabbing the ball out of Michael’s arms, Max responded in a short voice, “I’m fine.” Another three pointer.

This time Max collected the ball as it fell through the net. He didn’t want this game to become a rehash of his past year. He wanted to lose himself in the adrenaline of scoring and winning. Every throw at the net felt like he was reaching out to his stolen youth. As the ball bounced triumphantly back to him from the net, he could almost believe that he was a normal boy and not a scarred lab rat. He bounced the ball with extra force to squash that thought.

Contrite, he shot a glance at Michael noticing his eyebrows had shot up. Fortunately for Max, Michael stayed silent. Instead, Michael got into position looking for his opening.

However, Max’s anger hadn’t cooled in the silence. Rather it fueled his competitiveness leading Max to plow roughly into Michael before he completed a layup.

Once more retrieving the ball, Max shoved it towards Michael.

Though Michael easily caught it, Max noticed him rubbing his chest at the impact. Guilt began to build within Max but was quickly quashed when Michael began dribbling. An almost sinister smile twitched at Max’s lips as he caught Michael’s wary gaze. He was a snake poised to strike.

Just as Michael jumped to toss the ball in, Max leapt up to grab the ball.

But Michael had faked him out causing Max to land hard on the ground; his chin grazing the concrete.

Michael instantly came to his side, but Max angrily rebuffed the help. “I’m fine,” he bit out once again.

“Clearly,” Michael remarked caustically.

Pushing himself up, Max ignored the knowing expression on Michael’s face.

Seeing Michael pointedly gesture to his own chin, Max mirrored the action waving his hand to heal the scraped skin. With the stinging pain of his skin gone, Max felt his adrenaline begin to wane.

Attempting a conciliatory tone, Max asked, “What’s the score?” Though he had softened his tone, his frustration could still be easily heard.

“Didn’t think we were keeping score,” Michael drolly commented.

Max rolled his eyes, before going to the bench to drink some water.

Michael followed, sitting beside him. As soon as the water touched his lips, Michael spoke, “Something happen last night?”

Max almost choked on the water but managed to swallow it. “It’s been taken care of,” Max announced with regal finality.

“Anything I should know?” There was a tinge of sharpness to Michael’s question. Max could sense Michael’s protective instincts had kicked in, but he was determined to not think about what he and Liz had discovered.

“Yeah, we’re keeping score now,” he deflected. He quickly strode to scoop up the ball, which had idly rolled to the entrance in the wake of his fall. Bouncing the ball twice as he stepped towards Michael and the net, he decided to shoot from that distance.

Hitting the rim at an angle the ball almost rolled out, but ultimately gravity was in Max’s favour and it dropped through the net.

Lifting a hand up in celebration, Max offered a tired smile and exclaimed, “Three points!”

The ball rolled by Michael’s feet. He scooped it up. Staring at the ball, he appeared lost in thought. Finally, he lifted his head resolute.

“Bet you can’t do it again,” he goaded Max.

A grateful smile flitted on Max’s face. In the back of his mind he acknowledged, if anyone would understand the need to just focus on anything else, it would be Michael.

Their talk at the quarry bay sprang to mind. Fix it.

Michael’s request back then had been plaintively spoken.

But, Max wondered, was he already too far gone… too broken to be ‘fixed’?

A sudden blow to Max’s chest made him stagger a few steps backward.

His hand automatically lifted to his chest, but instead of registering his black basketball jersey, his mind expected the synthetic red robe for West Roswell High's graduating class becoming increasingly crimson from a gunshot wound.

Bending his knees, his arms reached out to the side as he tried to regain his balance. But he did not realize his eyes were closed. To him, he was surrounded by hazy darkness bordering a solitary spotlight beam. He did not register Michael’s expletive and rushed apology. All he heard were the fading sounds of panicked screams.

As he began to lose the fight for balance, he felt a steady hand catch his elbow and tug him forward.

Eyes snapping open, he blinked at Michael in confusion.

“You came back,” Max murmured. It was spoken as a half question, half statement. Max felt relief and gratitude that his brother hadn’t left after all. Placing his other hand on Michael’s shoulder, he registered he no longer sported long hair. Casting his gaze past Michael, he saw a concrete court with a basketball lazily rolling across it.

Shaking his head slightly, Max roughly rubbed at his eyes. With each scrub of his hand his mind reminded him that graduation was a year ago and that after being taken… experimented on… he had been rescued and was now playing basketball with Michael at Cal’s estate. Hand pushing against his eyes, his shoulders briefly raised as he suppressed a bitter laugh at the supposed normalcy of playing basketball.

Lowering his hand, he glanced at Michael before looking to the side in embarrassment. “Thanks,” he uttered.

Michael looked at Max for an extended moment, his face not giving away his thoughts. Finally, he gave a curt nod and remarked, “Still not sleeping?”

Max gave a non-committal shrug.

Michael remained silent and went to collect the wayward ball.

“First to five baskets and then we get breakfast,” he stated as he offered the ball.

With a spike of adrenaline at Michael’s words, Max quickly grabbed the ball and headed to the basket. As he let the ball fly, he turned back towards Michael with a smirk.

Michael only gestured with his chin towards the basket where the ball ended up skimming the rim and falling to the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Max collected the ball and shot again.

The ball banged against the board ricocheting into the bleachers.

Huffing out in frustration, Max went after the ball. After retrieving the ball from under the bleachers, Max saw that Michael had already sat down by him and was handing him a bottle of water.

Max hesitated for a moment, his mind still urging him to keep playing. But when he swallowed, he realized how parched his throat was. He took the proffered bottle with gratitude.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, his throat eagerly chugged half the bottle. Inwardly, he cringed at himself. He was still acting as if he was in there… as if this was his only chance for water.

The burn of humiliation began to creep up his neck.

He forced himself to recap the bottle. But instead of picking up the ball to continue the game, he stared at the bottle ruminating.

His nostrils flared slightly at how the Unit… well, the whole government saw him and believed how he should be treated: as an expendable lab rat.

Like vermin in the wild, he was first targeted as something to stop and exterminate. But once captured… once he gave them full control…

He closed his eyes to suppress the nausea as images of white clad men filled his mind.

Learning the reason for them taking all those samples had pulled the proverbial rug from under him.

Except he hadn’t landed yet. Mentally, he was falling, arms flailing uselessly for something to grasp… for someone to hold onto.

During the night he had curled into Liz, relishing the closeness. But as the dawning beams of morning had roused him from his sleep, a chill, reminiscent of his cell, filled his body.

He tried to shake the thought that he was back there. But he soon became overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation and hopelessness.

When Michael had told him what had happened to him, his mind had spun with what the Unit may have done to him. But he hadn’t expected they had the capability to control his powers beyond suppressing them and that they intended to use it on his clones. If successful, they would have a destructive puppet army with his face.

If it came to fruition, they would have made the weapon they all feared him to be. His gut clenched as he realized that all they wanted was to control him.

And he had let them.

He knew they were prepared to treat everyone he loved as the enemy, which is why he had made that deal. His hand clenched as he mentally replayed all the revelations of how the Unit had hurt his family and friends. He expected their disregard of the deal, but that general made him think… at least hope that they would leave his family and friends alone.

And so, he had willingly become their prisoner… their property. He bit his tongue and bent his head. Fury mixed with shame as his cheeks flamed in remembered humiliation.

Worse was Liz seeing what they did to him.

The bottle rolling in his hands, Max refused to look at Michael as he finally admitted, “Liz saw how they… tested my abilities.” His self-loathing was in full force, castigating himself for making her cry.

As the silence grew, he dared a sideways glance to see Michael’s face.

It was unreadable and appeared to be watching him carefully.

Ire rose in his chest, but quickly dissipated as he accepted the scrutiny in defeat. What else was a lab rat for?

Stiffly, he moved his fingers to ease up on the bottle that had started to crunch under his clenched hand.

Max was peripherally aware of Michael taking a swig of water while continuing to observe him. Lowering his own bottle, Michael spoke, his head turning carefully to each side as if checking for anyone who may be coming up the path. “The videos?”

Max winced at the reminder of the surveillance videos. His voice was low as he confessed, “No, she got a flash from me.”

Surprised, Michael bodily turned to face Max. “I thought you weren’t letting her connect when you kiss,” a slight accusatory tone slipped into Michael’s statement. It was almost reminiscent of a few years ago when Michael disapproved of how much Max was revealing to Liz.

“There was a cut on my neck. Liz was helping to blot it out when she saw…” Max lapsed into silence, his mind protesting the existence of the chip.

Michael asked apprehensively, “saw what?”

Max forced out a breath and continued with his confession. “They put… they can… control-my-powers.” His words came out in a rush.

Michael leaned forward to catch what Max said. The confusion on his face gradually morphed into fear.

Before Michael spoke a word, Max placed the water bottle down and moved to pick up the ball. Turning it around in his hands, he assured Michael, “it doesn’t work anymore. Liz and I made sure.”

Facing Michael, he could see the thousands of questions fighting to be said.

“They did it to control my…” Max started in a clipped tone but faltered at confiding the last word.

He squeezed the ball as he remembered the constant fear and helplessness he felt as they took whatever they wanted from him. Even before the capture, they had taken his sense of safety. The tail-end of his childhood was fraught with peril, not to just himself but to his loved ones. He couldn’t even experience the celebratory milestone of graduation.

All because he was different.

And now he knew that they planned to use what made him different to hurt people.


The sound broke through Max’s haze of fury. Blinking, he glanced down to see the ball deflated within his hands.

Max heavily sat back down his whole being as deflated as the ball. So much for the game…

Looking up at the sky, Max completed his confession. “They cloned me. And the chip is meant to control them.”

Michael remained silent.

In the silence, Max continued to think out loud. “I don’t know what to think about those clones. I mean… are they going to be like the dupes? Are they… my kids?” Despairingly, he added, “Either way, we have to destroy them…”

“Hmm…” Michael intoned.

“What is it?” Max bit out his question in a tired voice.

“Having an army of… you might be helpful against Kivar. We just got to make sure the government isn’t still in control.”

There’s the military strategist I know

Max paused at his alien side’s comment.

While his stomach still twisted at the knowledge of what the government did with his samples and their plan for his clones, Michael’s idea actually did make sense. Kivar was coming with a whole army. Even with training they still would be outnumbered. They could use all the help they could get.

“Good point,” Max conceded. He looked off to the side as his insides continued to twist over the fate of his clones. No matter what, they were to be sent to war… to death.

Would they even have the capacity of free will?

He lowered his head as he thought about how Cal was programmed to follow his orders.

Max’s hand clenched around the remains of the ball. In the white room, he had no choice in whatever they did to and commanded of him. Like the leather in his hands, he was a broken shell of what he once was. How could he lead them all in a war? How could he protect them when he was just a magnet for pain and destruction? He threw the flattened ball away from him in frustration.

After an extended silence, he heard Michael’s voice.

“For the longest time, I thought it was my fault I had Hank.”

Max turned to Michael but stayed silent, unsure where Michael was going with this. Knowing Michael never really opened up about Hank, he didn’t dare interrupt.

“I was angry at myself that I had run away from you and Isabel. That because of that I ended up with him. I saw how you were treated and so I fought back… or at least I tried. But no matter what I did, I was just a freak whose only purpose was to give him a monthly check.”

A look of regret appeared on Max’s face. He remembered how he used to criticize Michael for always blaming Hank and his situation. Max was about to apologize but held his tongue as Michael continued in a soft voice.

“The way he talked to Isabel though made me want to hurt him like how he hurt me... maybe even kill him. But… I left instead. When Valenti told me he had left town—it was good riddance. But sometimes I still remember what he would call me, and the anger comes back. I just wanted him to feel how I did.”

Michael looked directly at Max.

Max was surprised at how astute Michael was to how he was feeling. He hadn’t even figured it out himself yet, but what Michael described sounded close. There was just one major difference.

“I agreed to all that they did. I am angry at what…” Max swallowed still unable to fully verbalize it. “But I let them do it. I didn’t fight.”

Michael gruffed out, “you didn’t have a choice.”

Max was ready to refute Michael’s statement but was disarmed by the serious and sincere look Michael was giving.

“Whatever they said about you isn’t true. They clearly coerced you to making that deal so no you didn’t ask for them to do what they did. And these clones… I mean we technically were cloned in the first place. So, they may not just be mindless brutes. But if they are we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Though, the biggest challenge will probably be if they have your stubborn streak.”

Max’s eyes stung, A self-deprecating smile twitched at his lips. He was overwhelmed with gratitude at Michael’s words. The fact that he shared something so personal to help comfort him deeply touched him. He whispered, “thank you.”

Michael clapped a hand on Max’s back.

Max turned into Michael to embrace him.

His arms around Michael, Max apologized directly speaking into his ear. “I’m sorry that I didn’t help you get away from Hank sooner.”

Michael responded with a rough voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

The two brothers released their hold, both mired in their respective guilt.

Michael’s stomach rumbled. “Looks like the game has been called off for now, how about we get some food?”

Glancing at the deflated ball, Max thought to return it to its former state. “Yeah, one sec.” Max trotted over to the ball remnants. Holding it in his hands, he concentrated and soon returned it to its spherical glory. He smiled at it and then Michael shyly.

Lazily, he spun the ball on his index finger. He stopped after a few revolutions, tossing it to Michael.

Glancing around them for any possible lurkers, Michael cautioned, “We need to be careful where we use our powers here.”

A sardonic look took over Max’s face at hearing his usual warning spoken back to him. But then the implication of the statement finally sunk in.

Max asked, “Are you saying this place isn’t safe?”

Turning the ball in his hands, Michael answered, “Maybe. I need to talk to Cal to confirm if the grounds staff here are trustworthy. Yesterday, one of them caught your little show. I talked to that guy— his answers didn’t make it clear if he really saw anything.”

Max tried to go through his memories to place who Michael was talking about. A shadowy man helped him to a bench. Soothing words were asked, “Are you all right? Is there anything I can get for you?”

Max placed a hand over his eyes berating himself for his loss of control.

He started at a sudden weight on his shoulder. Breathing raggedly, he registered it was Michael’s hand.

“I know I’m the last person who should criticize about losing control,” Michael began in a slightly indignant tone. “Just giving you a heads up on what I plan to talk to Cal about.”

Max was able to release his next breath more easily as he nodded.

He wondered just how much he should let Cal know regarding the chip and his potential clones. He chided himself for not discussing that with Liz first. When he woke up, he had instead quietly left the room to get Michael for their early morning basketball game.

Hoping he’d have a moment to check-in with Liz, he suggested, “Let’s get something to eat first and then we’ll go find Cal.”

*Line taken from Independence Day
Last edited by behrinthecity on Sat Sep 10, 2022 2:55 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

Post by dreamon »

So happy to have you back! And thank you for another fantastic part!!! Also, the following line was in blue: There’s the military strategist I know.

Not sure if this was the line you were trying to alter or not.
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

Post by behrinthecity »

dreamon wrote: Fri Sep 09, 2022 9:27 pm So happy to have you back! And thank you for another fantastic part!!! Also, the following line was in blue: There’s the military strategist I know.

Not sure if this was the line you were trying to alter or not.

Thank you for your comment :D and answering my question-- the small font size was meant for when Max murmurs"You came back" to Michael as visual emphasis for how soft he spoke. I saw it works in my phone browser, so I guess PC doesn't show it.
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

Post by keepsmiling7 »

"super soldier" I like that idea.
Max is having lots of regrets........but who wouldn't?
Thanks for coming back!
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

Post by clueless »

You have no idea how happy I am to have you back!!! Can’t wait to see what happens next and I hope you continue to have a successful journey to being back to 100%!!!
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Re: Scars of White (AA, CC, MATURE) Part 63 9/9/22 (WIP)

Post by MP »

Loved the last 2 parts. I hope you post more soon!
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