Chapter 6: The Clinic Opens
Adam Stiels walked through the clinic's pristine white halls, the sterile scent of antiseptic a stark contrast to the grimy, mildew-scented warehouse where he'd founded Finex. It was a beautiful lie, a theatrical front in the heart of New York, a beacon of hope and healing in a city that was rapidly becoming a hotbed of mutant-human paranoia. The sign outside was a model of understatement: "The Finex Clinic: A Center for Genetic Well-being." It was a masterpiece of corporate misdirection.
"Yeah, genetic well-being. We'll make sure you're well out of a gene you don't want, and we'll be well on our way to a level-up. Everyone's a winner," Adam thought, a sarcastic grin playing on his lips. He ran a hand over the polished reception desk, the cool marble a pleasing weight against his fingertips. The clinic was his magnum opus, a brilliant, brutal engine for growth.
His new recruits, Sarah, Mark, and Lily, along with the five new members they'd helped him acquire, were now his staff. They wore crisp white coats and had perfected the art of compassionate professionalism. Sarah, the former stockbroker, was now the chief administrator, her natural cynicism and sharp mind perfectly suited for managing the flow of clients and money. Mark, the bouncer, was a towering figure at the door, a silent but intimidating presence. Lily, the IT prodigy, was in the back, running the clinic's digital infrastructure, a web of encryption and firewalls that would make the FBI blush.
Their first patient was a young woman with a constant, low-level static field that fried her electronics. It wasn't a powerful or flashy ability, but it was a miserable existence. She couldn't use a phone, a computer, or even a microwave. She was a technological outcast, a living EMP grenade. She sat on the examination table, her hands trembling, her face a mask of desperate hope.
"So, you're the ones they're talking about," she said, her voice small. "The ones who can... fix this."
Adam sat across from her, his white coat a costume he wore with unnerving ease. "We don't 'fix' anything," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "We simply give you a choice. Your power, as you've experienced, is a curse. We can take it away, permanently, and in exchange, we ask for a small… donation. A thank you, if you will, for a new life. And a few moments of your time for observation, to make sure the process is complete. We need to make sure you're truly cured, after all."
He left out the part about the donation being a large sum of money, and the "observation" being a covert, automated X-gene acquisition. He didn't need to lie. He just needed to be a little bit vague.
"It's not a lie if you don't tell the whole truth. That's a good lawyer's motto, and now it's my mission statement. I'm a good guy, helping people. It's just that my definition of 'helping' is a little more… self-serving," he rationalized, a faint, metallic taste in his mouth.
He activated his domain, the familiar hum filling the air. The system's interface appeared in his mind, and he focused on the woman's genetic signature, a soft, buzzing energy.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: X-GENE DETECTED. ABILITY: MINOR ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELD MANIPULATION. INITIATING ACQUISITION.]
He explained the process to the woman, a calm, reassuring lie about a "genetic realignment" that would simply "un-knit" her mutant gene from her DNA. She believed him, her face a mix of fear and relief. He initiated the process, the energy from his core flowing outward, not to steal, but to acquire and store. The process was fast, and the woman felt a strange, pleasant tingling sensation. When it was over, she picked up her phone, and it didn't spark. She could use it. She started to cry, a flood of relieved tears.
Adam watched her, feeling nothing but a detached sense of satisfaction. His system's interface showed a new line: [X-GENE STORED: MINOR ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELD MANIPULATION.] He had another tool for his arsenal, a new recruit for his X-gene gifting program, and a happy customer. It was a perfect, symbiotic relationship.
The clinic flourished. Word spread like wildfire. Mutants who were tired of being outcasts, of being hunted, came to him, offering their powers and their money for a chance at a normal life. Adam, the benevolent architect, the savior in the white coat, was there to greet them, his hands open, his smile genuine. He was building his library, one donated power at a time. He was getting closer to his goal.
The clinic wasn't just a front; it was a psychological weapon. It gave Adam a plausible, public reason for his presence in New York. It made him a man of the people, not a shadowy supervillain. And it provided a steady stream of money, resources, and most importantly, X-genes.
"The genius of it all is that I'm not even a bad guy here. I'm giving them what they want. They want to be normal. I'm just giving them the choice. The fact that I get stronger and richer from it is just… a happy accident. A win-win. See? I'm a great guy," he thought, a truly genuine, if slightly unhinged, smile on his face.
The clinic was a factory of power, a silent, beautiful machine that was churning out resources and influence for Finex. He could feel the organization growing, the numbers in his system's interface ticking up. He was at eight members, and the money was pouring in. He was getting closer. The upgrade, the next step, was within his reach. And with it, a new era of power and influence.
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