seekevolution | (no subject)

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If there was one thing that Mohinder Suresh was good at, it was getting into trouble. He did it to himself, falling into patterns that placed him in dangerous situations and in league with dangerous people. Yes, he always meant well, chasing after research that would save mankind from and for itself, but the personal toll to himself and those around him tended to be extremely high. This time was no different. A distraction and a slip of a normally very careful hand left a jab through a double layered glove that had him throwing down his tools and heading to the sink to see if he had gotten through the skin. He had only torn off the latex when the first wave of dizziness hit.

Mohinder woke up over an hour later, sweat soaked and shivering on the floor of the lab. Nothing felt broken and for a little while, he forgot what had happened. He sat up slowly, pushed the hair back from his eyes, and glanced down at one blue hand and one skin-coloured palm. Memory rushed back to him and he leaped to his feet to call the company whose drug it was that he was testing and perfecting. There was just a dial tone and a friendly voice telling him that the number had been disconnected. He glanced up and the little red light that usually signaled he was being taped (standard procedure in this lab) was off. The door was unlocked and he shivered again, feeling something move through him.

He should be dead. The catalyst in the drug was enough to kill a man twice his size, the purest form of the component that would make the medicine work against the virus affecting evolved humans. No, he shouldn’t just be dead. He should have exploded all over these walls…and he did not.

The cell phone in his pocket didn’t have reception until he stepped, shaking, into the loading dock. He called the only person he knew might be able to help him. He hadn’t seen Bruce Banner in years. He’d become a consultant for the Avengers in the time since doing humanitarian work in Calcutta, or so the internet said, a frequent guest of Tony Stark of all people. Mohinder didn’t actually have Bruce’s number so he just called the Stark Relief Foundation, where Banner was supposed to be working. It took an hour for him to track down his old acquaintance from his time volunteering with Banner in the slums of Indian. “Doctor Banner? I don’t know if you remember me… My name is Mohinder Suresh. I interned briefly with you overseas?”

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That was a name he hadn't heard in many years. It wasn't like him to forget a name or a face, and just hearing those smooth tones started to pull at his memory before the name pulled an image out of his mind - young man, handsome, curled hair, dark eyes, Indian. To hear from Mohinder again, so very out of the blue, on the heels of a rushed conversation with a hurried and confused young lady who had no idea who this insistant man on the phone was... it was all incredibly strange.

Still, he had only good memories of Mohinder Suresh. Eager, resourceful, and incredibly intelligent, he had been easy to work with even if it had been awkward on his end with no idea what to do with an intern. Tony had thought the idea of him with an intern was amusing. Maybe it was. So why was he being called now? Thoughts of a job reference floated through his mind, though he wasn't so certain his name would still carry enough weight to matter.

"I do remember you," he replied as he removed his glasses, rubbing his brow. The time difference put him at quite early in the morning, though late enough that the phone call hadn't been completely missed or ignored. "It's been quite some time." He'd assumed the young man was still- interning? Finishing school? There was a momentary guilt as he couldn't remember. So many things had happened to put simple things out of his mind. "I have to admit, long enough that I'm surprised to hear from you again."

Somehow, he doubted this was a call for a friendly chat, given the edge of tone he could hear in Mohinder's voice.

Edited 2016-07-12 17:37 (UTC)

Thank God. Mohinder closed his eyes in relief. “I’m afraid that this isn’t quite a social call,” he said, culture demanding that he be polite even if he was scared out of his mind. It had been five years, perhaps even six now, since he had seen the doctor, but they had once worked on patients dying of all sorts of horrible diseases and had, cleverly, come up with medications cobbled together from the supplies that they had on hand with some easier to obtain local remedies.

It was this reason, mostly, that he had thought to call his old mentor.

That, and he was extremely well connected and funded now, wasn’t he? Mohinder rubbed his eyes, feeling tears stinging them. It was not the time to be emotional. A great deal had happened to him since he left India and came to America, since he had met people with extraordinary abilities and mixed himself up with people that he very likely should not have. This was almost shameful to ask. “I simply, Doctor Banner, I’m not sure what else to do. I’m in Brooklyn, in New York. I was working for a pharmaceutical company specializing in-- This will sound mad, I know, but with aliens and gods running around these days, perhaps it will be less so? I’ve done something terrible to myself while working on a new product to stimulate human evolution and… The company I was working for… There is no trace of them. I’m at a loss for what to do. There is no electricity left in the building my lab was in and I can not even test myself. I was hoping… I was hoping that you might recommend a place that might house me, safely. I… This serum. It’s extremely unstable.”

That... was a lot to take in. Mohinder would hear the slow breath in as Bruce struggled with all of it because each sentence just seemed to make the situation worse. Mohinder had aligned himself with a company doing somewhat questionable things and now they had deserted him entirely. Probably got found out, ran out of money, or any number of horrible things that could be behind why they vanished into a puff of snoke but all of them most likely illegal. He rubbed his brow again, more slowly, as he tried to think what to do. Brooklyn, of all places. He wanted to laugh because oh, he knew a place that Mohinder could go and be very safe, but it would be in a place meant for him.

"Deep breath, Mohinder," he said first, but he wasn't sure if that was more to himself or the younger man on the phone. "I... know somewhere you can go, who will keep things quiet. I will be on the first flight back to the States. I need you to stay calm until then and record everything that has happened and what happens between this phone call and when I arrive. ...I'm going to need... more information, and if you have samples, bring them, please."

Going back inside the desolate building was frightening. Mohinder guided himself by the red glow of emergency lights since the actual power was out. He tread very carefully, unsure what would actually set him off, if anything. He might be collecting slides one moment and explode the next. Or he might trip and that would cause him to fall over the edge and erupt. He didn't know and each movement he made was terrifying.

Into a large brown leather satchel Mohinder scooped up his research and his laptop and samples of everything he could. It was all still there. Likely, when he stuck himself with the needle, the whole building had been evacuated. And no one wanted to see if Mohinder lived. How could he? People died with half the dose in their blood stream, and Mohinder had been moving large quantities into testable injection top tubes.

He took his gear and hailed a taxi and told the driver that it was all right if he took awhile, just drive slow and avoid all bumps if possible. Each pothole felt like a death sentence, but he arrived at Avengers Tower a mess and was shown to a large, glass fishbowl that was supposedly bomb proof by security. He didn't see Stark or any of the Avengers at all.

Mohinder lowered his satchel and himself to the floor. And waited.

Maybe he just needed a panicked goal to be able to get through air travel. The entire trip was spent in trying to work through the minuscule amount of information that Bruce had to go on, to try and figure out what on Earth Mohinder might have done to himself. A high speed connection let him get feed information from the system Stark had set up, but it wasn't enough and more so, he was worried. They may not have seen each other in several years, but the amount of people Bruce could trust in the world was a small number that got smaller with every passing year, and despite what sounded like several foolish life choices (sounded all too familiar), he didn't want something happening to Mohinder.

Thus, not even twenty four hours later, an exhausted Bruce Banner arrived back to his 'home' in New York, wanting to check on Mohinder then get a quick shower, in that order. Thankfully, with Tony's systems in place, he could make his way up the Tower without issue and head for where he was certain Tony would stash Mohinder. It was proven correct, but looking over the other, he wished it wasn't. This looked as bad as he might have guessed, if Mohinder believed himself in danger, or dangerous, enough to let this happen.

"...Mohinder." Quiet, not wanting to startle, as he approached the glass.

Laying on the floor, not even hungry anymore despite not having eaten for just over forty hours now, the jerk of the scientist in the glass cage did not look like either of the two violent epileptic seizures that the camera had recorded roughly twelve and then four hours before arrived back on US soil. Mohinder had been asleep this time. He turned, sitting to brace himself up on an elbow and then a palm. He didn't look too terrible. Crumpled, maybe, but not tired. There was a glow to his eyes, formerly dark brown (a usual hue for a man of his ancestry) was more amber or tawny. Not too strange, not too off the mark, but the light bouncing off of the glass drew attention to it. His eyes shined, like a cat's, as if there was a reflective lens behind the iris.

Mohinder moved to his feet, hands at his aides. He stood directly in the centre of the chamber, head tilted. "Doctor Banner?" He blinked a few times as if coming back to himself and sighed with relief.

"I was truly-- I was truly expecting you to return to a rather gruesome mess." Banner looked as he always had. Maybe a little more gray but otherwise just the same.

That same tired smile came to his lips. Always tired, like he was carrying a burden around with him. "I'm glad I didn't. Stark would have been less than pleased to have to clean it up." Always a little darker in his humor. He approached the cage, studying his once-intern carefully. Time had been good to the other, but then again that wasn't a surprise. Some men just aged better than others. However, those eyes...

The seizures frightened him more than anything else at the moment, though. They could do real harm, down to the core of the brain, and were the biggest of the issues. "Why don't we start from the beginning, Mohinder? ...Why would I be returning to a mess, exactly? What do you expect this to do to you?"

Mohinder moved too, strangely and jiltedly, though that was intentional. The drug should have fully been metabolized by his system by now, he should be perfectly fine and back to normal, barring unknown side effects, but he didn't want to trigger any explosion effect. He stopped just short of the curving glass so he didn't smash his forehead into the curve and crossed his arms protectively around himself.

"I was transferring a catalyst for gene therapy into coagulant solutions. The catalyst itself is a powered and highly concentrated form of a gas catalyst developed prior to my start with the company. It... It causes rapid cellular growth, denies the release of water from dying cells and... And it causes the subject to liquefy internally before gas wastes explode internal contents through the skin."

He pressed his forehead, willfully, against the curving glass. His eyes were hidden under a tangle of curls, but the faint glow of them lingered between the strands.

"I don't feel well, Doctor Banner. I'm not sure what this is doing to me, but it doesn't seem to care to kill me."

Edited 2016-07-13 10:02 (UTC)

That explained the heightened blood pressure, the vastly abnormally low oxygen levels, and the seizures. Mohinder was right; if this was the purpose of this catalyst, then his old friend should have been dead, liquefied on the walls of this containment unit. Bruce took a slow breath, watching Mohinder, trying to figure out where to begin. This was... this was even more than he might have expected.

"I won't ask why you were developing that before," though his tone briefly hinted he didn't believe it was for the betterment of man-kind if it was that destructive, "however, for right now... you're right. This hasn't killed you, for whatever reason, so we're going to start small. We need to figure out if you are still viable for this to occur or if you've passed into some next level." Bruce moved over to the cage where there was a port big enough to pass food into and in turn, receive samples or... whatever else might be needed to deal with. "Over here. Blood sample, to start. We'll move slow and pray that a puncture of the skin won't start any kind of chain reaction." He knew it could, and his expression spoke volumes with a level of deep concern behind it.

The Indian stayed where he was. He tilted his head to follow Banner (because that was totally normal, sure, and pressed his fingertips to the glass before his legs took him to the opening. His fingers dragged on the glass the entire way, thumb nail scratching a path ahead of them. He swallowed and looked at Bruce, dead on, intensely. "You should be in a protective garment before we begin." He wasn't sure if his blood was toxic. He had only been jabbed with the catalyst, not the full serum, and while he was a carrier of the evolved human gene, it was not expressed and without the expressive triggers. But if Bruce did happen to have the gene, or worse, if he did not, the rapid excellerative effect of his blood could be very bad news for his old mentor. "Ten minutes won't matter. And then... I had to be a further bother, but while we wait for the results, do you think we could have lunch?"

Mohinder started to smile before he felt terror grip him and emotion welled up in his eyes. He pressed both palms to the glass, holding himself up.

"I'll tell you everything. They abandoned me. I doubt the NDA still stands."

The sound of that fingernail dragging sent a shudder straight through him, leaving Bruce with the hair along his arms standing on end. Something was happening with Mohinder that was changing on a deeper level, and if his mention of enhancing human evolution had anything to do with it... just what was Mohinder evolving into? Despite Mohinder's thoughts, it was obvious something was happening to his body that was rapidly altering it.

"I won't abandon you." That, if nothing else, Bruce Banner could promise. He knew a few things about being abandoned and he wouldn't do that in someone's hour of need. "We'll go over it, piece by piece, and figure out what's happening... and where it might go from there." He went about getting what he needed to collect the sample, and even went through the effort of putting on protective gloves to mask that he didn't need them.

"As for lunch, tell me what you want to get and I'll have it brought to the Tower. ...I haven't exactly eaten any real food in the last day, since I definitely don't count airline food as real food." It was more chatter than he would bother with when it came to most people, but even in this situation, he had been comfortable with Mohinder back then and it remained. When he had the IV set, he took a breath and readied himself for whatever might come. "Arm through the hole in the inner layer," he said as he pressed the release, using the gloves through the outer layer to access that inner layer.

"A good curry. Were you in India?" Mohinder asked, body pressed firmly to the glass to reach his arm as far as it would go through the hole. He was frightened, but hyper focused. He watched Bruce carefully press the needle into his arm and once his blood started to flow, deep magenta and not the bright red one might expect, he closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. There was a tremor beneath his entire body, leaving him barely standing. "I was... I was shown photographs of the researchers that discovered the catalyst. That colour... That was all over the floor and the walls and the ceiling of their lab. I thought that the photos were initially off. Bad angle, poor lighting, but that's not true. The smallest fraction of a solution of the catalyst, taken alone without the rest of the serum and the bonding agent, is one hundred percent fatal in human beings. With or without the trigger genes. I've done this a thousand times. One grain of the powder dissolved in ten miligrams of iodine and mixed with thirty gallons of potable water. Ten ccs of the catalyst solution to one part bonding agent and one part of the testable gene therapy coctail-- We were getting close, Doctpr Banner. We were getting close to leveling the playing field. Super Soldiers without the side effects. Minds to rival Tony Stark's. Unaided flight. Immortality. We were so close...."

There were tears on the glass. Mohinder sniffled a little.

"All it takes is a little extra adrenaline. This time I would have gotten it. I don't know where everyone went. I would have been contained in my lab. The building was empty."

There was a part of Bruce that was angry, hearing what Mohinder had been doing. He worked in silence as he listened, eyes focused on that dark blood. As he worked, and even as he finished and carefully closed off the tube and worked to make sure not a drop was spilled, he remained silent. Silent through putting a bit of gauze and tape over the crook of Mohinder's elbow, silent as he cleaned up. Only when he was done, his samples in a small metal box that would keep them safe, did he turn back to Mohinder with tired eyes.

"...We aren't gods, Mohinder. We aren't meant to play at them, either. There are always going to be side effects - even if it isn't physical or mental in those who are changed, it'll come as people react to them. Somehow, they will hurt others, even if their intentions are good." But his tone changed as he continued, hinting at 'enough said about that'. "I don't believe you're going to explode, given the lack of reaction to getting blood drawn, but you'll stay here over night until I can confirm that. I can, in the mean time, get you curry from a place nearby that is actually quite acceptable." A smile, but it's almost too sad in his eyes to be one.

"What's done is done, but we'll go where we can from here." And try to deal with the feelings of guilt that this was what Mohinder had ended up doing after his internship.

Mohinder's forehead rolled on the glass until his back was to Bruce. He slid down to the ground and pulled up his knees, speaking low and soft. "I read that dolphins actually use more of their cerebral capacity than humans do because of echolocation. They adapted that, but we...we don't adapt anymore. We use our limited cerebral capacity to better ourselves through invention rather than evolution. We all have the ability to be better people, Doctor Banner. We all have the ability to be immune to disease and allow people to live longer and fuller lives. What I was trying to do was flip the right switches. It's a homeopathic response to the prescription drug wars and technology."

He wasn't playing God. Mohinder was still stoutly an atheist. He was just trying to do some good. He was trying to help everyone, all at once, to achieve their full potential.

He just went about it the wrong way. He got involved with people that did not entirely share his same concerns or beliefs. That was the story of Mohinder Suresh's life.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Banner. I've seen things... I've seen amazing and horrible and wonderful things. It wasn't suppose to happen this way."

"You didn't talk about expanding life times or healing," Bruce said quietly, feeling a certain level of sickness in the pit of his stomach. "I don't know if you wanted to see people with these incredible abilities - flying, strength, whatever you think - or if you're caught up in whatever your once-employer decided they wanted. The young man I said goodbye to at the end of his internship... I wouldn't have imagined would get caught up in this, so I want to believe you wanted the best for people."

It was playing god, in the meaning of what that phrase is supposed to encompass. Bruce believes in gods no more than Mohinder despite meeting two so-called ones, but he spoke what he saw. Right now, though, he wanted to make sure something wasn't going to happen immediately to Mohinder. The social and emotional repercussions of his actions would have to be dealt with after. Why did this all feel like a sequel of his own life?

"...We adapt slowly, as people. Humans are one of the most resilient beings on the planet, even as fragile as we are, but we wouldn't be here now if we didn't evolve and adapt. It's a slow process." He sighed, feeling far older than his years and inside, restless. "Other than lunch-" which he was certain a certain AI already was ordering, "is there something I can do for you? Something to read, or watch? A tablet?"

He sagged, shaking his head, all slumping together in on himself like a half baked flan someone walked too heavily into the kitchen on. "I'd rather sit here and reflect on my stupidity," he said, properly cowed. He would sit there for twenty-five minutes until the order arrived, while Bruce checked in with Tony (who was spending some time 'getting to know himself again' since Pepper broke up with him in Vegas).

While they ate from plastic bowls with plastic spoons, a world apart with the glass between them, Mohinder started from the beginning.

"I went to work at a pharmaceutical company in England. I met a girl there. Mira. We got engaged and found work back in Mumbai working on a cancer suppressant. Too much work and no play-- She called off the wedding and I don't blame her. So I switched to teaching at the university my father also taught at. He was fixated on human evolution-- not a long and drawn out process like you'd imagine, but something happening. Right here. Right now. Chasing his theories got him killed and, dutiful son, I came to America after him to find out what happened, collect his ashes and return home."

He was already finished his meal despite non stop talking.

"I met a man with telekinesis. Another who can fly. One that can copy super hero abilities. A girl that can't die. One who can turn water to ice with a touch... It's all right if you think I'm mad. But the next phase of human existence has already been born and is thriving. Humanity has changed. And those that do not change with it will go the way of the Neanderthal."

"Have you thought maybe that is what is supposed to happen? That this next stage of evolution is what is supposed to come?" No, he wasn't surprised, not with the things he knew existed out there. He had heard stories of mutants and powers and witnessed some for himself. If this company had been chasing making these for themselves, Mohinder's father on the tail of the stories that were true, then it was a perfect storm ready to swallow the young scientist whole.

"Is it right for anyone to tamper with that?" But it was less to Mohinder and more to himself, perhaps his past-self. "I'm sorry about your father, though. He was a good man." Their meeting had been brief, back when Mohinder had started his internship, but he had heard about the man through Mohinder many times over. His fingers played with the plastic spoon, turning it over again and again, his mind filled with images of fire and thunder and flight.

"Humans create when they need adapation, but this... is a whole new level of creation."

"I suppose it's all just a moral debate now," Mohinder said softly, gazing at that empty bowl as if he might snatch it up again and lick it clean. He stood instead and walked to the centre of the cage, eyes trailing the curves of it before he slid both hands into his hair along his scalp and tugged.

Two big black clumps came out in his palms and he gasped in horror, turning to show Bruce the spoils of the itch he had felt moments before on his head.

"I didn't-- I hadn't planned on becoming a new level of creation." His lower jaw trembled. "What could be making me shed my hair...?" It was better to stay on point and on course. "I-- Are we running video and audio? We should record what's happening to me. In case..."

Damn it all. Bruce stared at those clumps before whispering a curse to himself. This was happening so much faster than he might have guessed. "Audio and video has been running since you arrived," he said quietly, moving to toss his trash away and go for the samples. His mind was racing, and as he stared at the blood, his fingers twitched hard. What could make his hair fall out this fast? In such big clumps? The only thing he knew that could do that-

He looked back hard at Mohinder, those glowing eyes, before he let out a breath. "Keep it together, Mohinder. I need to run tests." As fast as possible. He would need to find out what was in Mohinder's body and as of ten minutes ago, so he rushed it as quickly as possible. If he couldn't figure this out... Mohinder might be not even Mohinder shortly, but worse, he could be dead.

There was not much that Mohinder could really do to help other than walk Bruce through logging into his laptop and gong through the unlabeled samples he had brought. He asked for a pen that could write on the glass and in a rather remarkable feat of mirror writing capability, was able to help his old mentor with some of the molecule designs by drawing them out on the cell walls.

His eyes were a bright, unnatural gold by the time the tests were finished, and clumps of hair had fallen out aroun him as he walked. It did not look as if he was going bald, however. His scalp was dense with new follicle growth of black with a green sheened hue to it.

Mohinder's cells were undergoing a rapid regrowth. Instead of just liquifying him, they were dying off and being replaced by hardier, stronger cells. It was remarkable, really. Even Mohinder's skin seemed to be glowing ever so slightly, as if he was full of life and health, as if he radiated internally.

The magenta blood had turned completely purple and Mohinder was no longer breathing. His heart was no longer beating. He didn't need oxygen any more.

It was the machinery that warned them when Mohinder's heart stopped. Bruce was bent over a microscope, studying something that flatly should have been impossible, when there was an alarm that jerked him violently out of that and left him struggling to first know what was going on and second, figure out how to get his heart to stop racing. He stared across the room towards the single machine measuring heartrate, temperature, breathing, that was still giving that piercing alarm as the heartrate line showed flat.

He looked to Mohinder, who looked as surprised as he felt, and looked still very much alive. "...Mohinder?" Quiet, almost desperately needing confirmation that the other was still alive despite what his eyes told him. How could Mohinder still be alive... but if what he read from the blood spoke true, could his heart stop when his blood no longer needed oxygen? No. None of this made sense.

He had to take a breath to be able to speak and so Mohinder filled his lungs as he dropped his marker and wet his lips before exhaling words. "I can no longer feel my heart," he said, though the roaring warning signs of the life signs monitor had already told him that. He pressed his fingers against his neck at a pulse point. Nothing thumped reassuringly against his fingertips. He tried his wrist as well, and all he felt was skin and heat and nothing else.

He should collapse. Perhaps everything was turning to mush inside of him. There was no pain though and he took an experimental step towards Banner, his mouth going dry.

"It's happening," he said in that whisper talk again since he was not aware of how to breathe while focusing so directly upon it. "Doctor Banner, I want to tell you that I am so sorry. I should never have involved you, but whatever this is, you must promise me to destroy it. Destroy the whole facility. I've left access codes on the laptop. I never want anyone else to go through this again and--"

Mohinder paused and glanced down at himself. He wasn't dead. He hadn't collapsed. In fact, he was doing just fine even though the blood was just sitting in his veins, unused now.

"Am I... Am I still alive? I must be, right? I must have some sort of brain function--?"

Frankly, Bruce was utterly stumped. Everything in his medical, logical mind said that Mohinder Suresh was a corpse. No heart beat, yet he was still functioning. Speaking. Thinking. He reached down and dug a nail briefly into his skin - pain. Not a dream or any other foolish notion. He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath and try to reason this out, even if reason was being utterly defied at this time.

"I suppose technically, no, you are no longer alive." As crazy as that sounded, it still wasn't the craziest thing he knew of. "That... also seems to not be a problem for you at the moment, at least physically." He studied Mohinder, trying to process. "If your blood is no longer pumping, I'm not certain how much longer you'll be physically moving, given that you should grow cold, muscles start to freeze... I would imagine you'll go into rigor mortis. However, this... almost correlates with what I was seeing. That your cells were changing and no longer needed as much oxygen, seemed to be thriving in their near-oxygen-less environment."

"Cells either learn to reproduce or become immortal," Mohinder murmured,. "It's basic cellular biology. Some cells divide to create offspring and then die off. Others never do and conceivably carry on until they are deprived of sustainance. My cells...no longer need sustainance? They're no longer replicating, they're just shifting to cells that do not die?" He ran a hand through his hair, gleaming and perfect. The rest, the dead cells that had sprouted from his scalp before this transformation, laid in clumps on the floor.

He sucked in a breath that he did not need and tried jogging in place-- But that did not matter. He didn't feel muscle strain. His lungs didn't seem to have any other ability save to drive air across his larynx so he could speak.

"You need to scan me. You need--". He was hyperventilating through fear, not for any particular physiological disease. His eyebrows knitted together in the centre of his forehead like they were kissing. He started to pace. "This is madness...this is utter madness!"

It was. It was absolute madness. Nothing of what they were currently witnessing with their own two eyes could be true. This was simply not how things worked. A body did not keep functioning when the heart stopped. It didn't keep speaking when the mind no longer told the lungs to keep breathing. It no longer moved when the muscles had no oxygen to supply fuel to the mitochondria. Mohinder's uncertain analyst seemed to be true despite everything science told him should not be real.

Bruce rubbed a hand down his face only to realize it was faintly shaking. This led to him taking a slow, deep breath, making sure he didn't panic more than he already wanted to, and he held up that hand towards Mohinder. "Stop. STOP. Panicking... will get us nowhere, though I wouldn't mind doing the same thing right now."

He walked towards the glass and started typing into the controls. It was easy to lock down the outer room, a second line of defense. "First, I don't think you're going to explode any longer. Second, we need to run completely different tests now, and keeping you in this bubble won't aid in any of that."