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Chapter 6: F For Hydra
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Adam stood before the full-length mirror in his new room, the first one he'd ever had that was truly his.
He was dressed in the casual clothes they'd provided; a simple grey t-shirt and dark pants.
The fabric felt alien against his skin, a sensation so mundane it was weird, very different from the same mental patient outfit Hydra put him in.
It's weird how wearing comfy clothes felt so alien.
He eyed his own body with a touch of weirdness.
It's been a good while since he had a good look at it, as weird as that sounds.
His physique was, by any objective measure, perfect.
A decade of captivity had not left him malnourished; his captors needed his body at peak operational capacity to fuel his power usage.
Boredom and a desperate need for control had led to a relentless workout regimen in his cell.
Push-ups, sit-ups, isometric holds; anything to feel the burn of muscle rather than the sear of a probe.
The result was a body carved from marble, a testament to discipline forged in hell.
It was a canvas, however, ruined by the artist's careless hand. Silvery, precise scars crisscrossed his torso and scalp, the permanent records of surgical curiosity.
His head was still bald, the hair only recently allowed to grow.
He leaned closer, his fingers tracing the faint, white stubble covering his scalp.
"Good news," He murmured to his reflection, his voice a low monotone.
"It's growing back. Bad news… It's white." His hair had been jet black, so why did it change so much?
"Chronic stress and trauma. A classic side effect." A dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips.
"Well, look at that. I got the classic anime protagonist look. The silver-haired, traumatized pretty boy. And it only took a decade of unspeakable torture. What a steal."
[Damn, he's not wrong. The aesthetic is on point.]
[Twelve years for a dye job? Talk about a salon from hell.]
[Bro's leveled up his tragic backstory AND his character design. Efficiency.]
A soft knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. "Adam? Are you ready?"
Jean's voice was gentle, a careful counterpoint to the harshness of his internal monologue.
"Yes. I'm done." He opened the door to find her waiting, offering a small, reassuring smile.
"Ready for the grand tour?" She asked.
He simply nodded, falling into step beside her as she led him through the sprawling mansion.
The Xavier Institute was a place of vibrant, chaotic life. The corridors echoed with the laughter of students, the air thrummed with the latent energy of a hundred different mutations.
Jean pointed out classrooms, talked about the Danger Room, "For controlled training, I promise it's safer than it sounds."
She explained with a smile.
And the common areas. She led him around, and he got to see some very interesting scenery, especially the students.
There was a boy who could change the channel on a television just by looking at it, maybe a form of cyberpathy?
Then a girl whose skin momentarily took on the texture of the wall she was leaning against, like a lizard's camouflage.
"This is a lovely place." His tone felt somewhat… rehearsed. Like dialogue from a book on social etiquette.
Jean, with her empathic senses, felt the disconnect. There was a natural charisma lurking beneath the surface, but it was buried under layers of learned behavior.
That's what a decade of no social interactions does to a man.
As they walked away from a group of chatting students, she broached the subject carefully.
"Adam… if you don't mind me asking," She began, her voice soft. "How long were you… there?"
He didn't flinch. He simply shrugged, as if discussing the weather. "About twelve years."
[TWELVE YEARS?! And he's this functional?]
[My guy has a stronger will than my entire bloodline combined.]
[Wait, he mentioned 'imaginary friends' before. What does that mean? Was he hallucinating?]
[Maybe the 'voices' are his real power and he's just playing 4D chess with us.]
[Nah, loneliness can drive one to make friends with a fucking coconut. He doesn't have that there, so maybe he created these 'imaginary friends' to face loneliness?]
Jean's smile vanished, first surprise taking place, then replaced by a pained sympathy. "I… I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine."
And she truly couldn't, not fully. But she could feel a semblance of his emotions.
Behind his calm, placid exterior was a maelstrom of emotion; a swirling vortex of rage, hatred, paranoia, and a strange, sharp-edged joy that felt more dangerous than any despair.
She made a conscious effort to project warmth and safety towards him, a gentle psychic nudge of reassurance.
She led him next to a secure storage locker where his duffel bag and its contents were kept. The various devices and weapons were laid out on a table.
"We scanned everything. They're clean, no trackers," Jean explained. "But I hope you understand, we can't allow you to carry these weapons within the mansion. It's safe here. We protect our own."
"I understand," Adam replied, his gaze sweeping over the tools of his escape. "That makes sense."
Jean felt a pang of sadness at his easy acquiescence. He was far too mature, far too understanding for someone his age.
He had been forced to become an adult in the most brutal way imaginable.
She handed him a sleek, new laptop. "The one you brought with you is still being looked at. This one is top-of-the-line. Should serve you better."
She left him with the Wi-Fi password, giving him the space she knew he needed to process, to adapt, to reconnect with a world that had moved on without him for twelve years.
But as she walked away, a part of her mind remained vigilant, a telepathic sentry keeping a gentle, non-invasive watch.
His extraordinary normality was the most alarming signal of all.
In her experience, those who had already made a final decision to take their own life often exhibited a preternatural calm, a joyful relief at the impending end.
They couldn't take any chances.
Jean entered Professor Xavier's office, the heavy oak door closing behind her with a soft click.
The Professor was at his desk, his fingers steepled, "How did it go, Jean?"
"Not good, Professor," She said, sinking into a chair. "There's an extreme, foundational distrust. But no fear. None at all. And there's… joy."
"But it's all so chaotic, like a radio picking up a dozen stations at once. I can't get a clear read. I'm not sure if he's suicidal, but his emotional state is… unsettling."
Professor Xavier's expression was grave but unsurprised. He slid a thin file across the desk to her.
"His emotional state is a perfectly rational response to his lived experience. His real name is Adam Walson."
Jean opened the file. Inside was a birth certificate and a missing person's report from over a decade ago.
"He manifested his powers at the age of eight," Xavier continued, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"A minor supernatural event, according to the report. His parents, terrified, turned him over to the authorities. He was funneled into the system and disappeared, becoming a subject of... Well, Hydra."
"He was betrayed by the two people in the world who should have protected him above all else. That level of trauma… his distrust is not just warranted; it is a survival mechanism."
"His choice of the surname 'Cypher' is telling. It derives from the Arabic 'Sifr,' meaning void, empty, or zero. He is trying to erase what came before. He wants to start from zero. So let's give him that."
[Aww, damn. My heart actually hurts for him.]
[Wasn't there another mutant by the codename Cypher?]
[Okay, but hear me out: Cypher doesn't just mean zero. It can mean a code. Or someone who reduces others to nothing. His Envy power... I think it refers to his power to bring everyone down.]
[^^^ This guy gets it. I think he's a villain origin story in the making.]
[Well, there aren't many villain shows, but I don't know if this is actually one]
It was this information, this confirmation of his horrific past, that finally sealed Adam's place within the mansion.
The last vestiges of suspicion; that he might be a plant, a Hydra mole; evaporated.
He was a victim, and he was now under their protection.
After all, it's not the first time an organization of that scale targeted mutants in a similar manner.
Speak of the devil, a soft knock came at the door. "Enter," Xavier called.
Adam stepped inside.
He took a seat, having spent the last few hours voraciously consuming current events and technological trends, closing the twelve-year gap.
"I trust you are settling in?"
"Adequately," Adam replied. He then got straight to the point. "I have more information for you. I'm unsure of its utility, but I believe you should have it."
Xavier leaned forward, his attention fully captured. "Any information you can provide is valuable, Adam."
"The man who oversaw my… conditioning," Adam began, his tone flat. "Dr. Pryce. He was… talkative. Full of ideological fervor. A few things he said stuck with me."
"He often ranted about an organization he called S.H.I.E.L.D. He spoke of destroying it 'from the inside out.' He seemed obsessed with global-scale destruction."
"This is merely hearsay, and I don't know how correct this information is, but from his words, it seems like the organization is world domination after destruction, building anew after destroying the world... Something like that."
Professor Xavier's face scrunched up. The calm, unflappable leader of the X-Men was visibly stunned. "Are you certain of this, Adam?"
"As certain as I can be, given the source," Adam said with a slight, apologetic tilt of his head. "I thought you should know."
"This is… profoundly alarming. Thank you, Adam. This could very well save countless lives."
"Was that really so surprising?" Adam would show surprise, "Is Hydra so secretive?"
Professor X would nod. "All I managed to dig up were secrets from the last World War, but the word Shield... I think I know what to do, I will contact an old friend."
Adam gave a short, respectful nod and excused himself, leaving a deeply troubled Charles Xavier behind.
The truth, known only to Adam and the silent audience in his mind, was a masterpiece of half-truths.
Dr. Pryce had never let such a specific, damning secret slip. Pryce was a fanatic, but he was not a fool.
Adam, however, possessed meta-knowledge, a ghost of a memory from a world of comics and movies. Why not use it?
A carefully placed lie, wrapped in a kernel of truth; Hydra was inside S.H.I.E.L.D., and they did want to destroy the world with Project Insight.
By pointing the formidable resources of the X-Men and, by extension, Charles's friend Nick Fury, in Hydra's direction, he was creating a big target on Hydra's back.
Let them fight each other. Let Hydra be famous. Let them be the focus of the show so they can't target him too much.
He, moreover, has many more plans for Hydra. He feels as if he's about to make them the most hated organization in the world... With time.
[OH MY GOD HE'S PLAYING 4D CHESS! He just sicced the X-Men on Hydra!]
[Hey, don't exaggerate so much. Anyone with average intelligence would do the same]
[Dude, it's about the potential. He's on his way to be a manipulative little genius.]
[F in the chat for Hydra. They have no idea what's coming.]
[F...]