Silence.

Not another sound than the distant beeping that starts to grow louder gradually. He feels himself awaken from his unconscious.

Blinded by the white light overhead, he squints his eyes and reaches to cover his face-

A metallic rattling follows his failed attempt to shield his eyes. His hands are to his sides, restrained down to the examination table itself.

VROOOOM!

A loud hum lifts the top half of the examination table up, turning the flat surface into a now close-to-seat-like object.

Charles tries to move his head around but the wires with which the electrodes are connected with limit his movement. He resorts to darting his eyes around and trying to figure out what this place is.

He lay completely still, in a pristine white room that is complete bliss for someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Three of the four walls were concrete, painted white so finely that it seemed like panels of light surrounding him. However, on his right side was a translucent glass pan that covered the entire wall and parted the room from what he assumed was a hallway and other rooms on the outside.

The room is filled with machines that continuously scan Charles' body functions with the electrodes on his chest, arms and forehead. He sinks his head into the pillow, feeling his body start to ache. He stares at the ceiling of the room.

But he notices something... The room in fact has no ceiling. It's a room that has been created in a much larger room. If only he could-

BUZZZ!

The room door creaks open after a loud buzz and a man in a white lab coat enters with a wooden clipboard in his hands.

"Ah Professor, you're awake," He states then walks over to the machine monitoring his vitals and takes notes of the numbers on the screen, "How are you feeling?"

Charles glares at him, refraining from giving a response. "Today is going to be an interesting day for you Professor," He comments and Charles rolls his eyes, hoping this individual would stop talking soon. Charles is in no mood for socialisation.

"THEY, with the needles and the knives, poking into our skin and taking out D-DNA for their testing."

Charles freezes, clenching his jaw at the voice that echoes in his head. It sounded so clear as if the speaker was standing right beside him.

"D-Don't let them t-take me, Charles. They'll do everything they can to get their way but please... save me."

He realises immediately that the voice is from Lillian. He swallows hard, feeling his palms start to sweat and his muscles tense. The heart-rate monitor starts to beep faster, the sound coming from a distant perspective.

Lillian! Are you there? Please respo-

Charles yells in his mind but is unsuccessful, only to be gifted with a shock of pain in return throughout his body. It is as if his powers were turned off, and something was stopping him from using them.

Charles becomes aware of the fact that Lillian's voice didn't come from somewhere in this unknown building... and they were actually statements from the past.

A low hum of silence fills Charles' sense of hearing and a wave of fear floods his sanity all of a-

P-P-P-Professor...

A voice echoes once again in his mind, which stirs him out of his thoughts a little.

PROFESSOR.

The voice loudens and-

"Professor Xavier?" A man asks and Charles shakes his head in fright suddenly. The man towers over him with a toothy smile on his lips. He has kind eyes but behind the stubble growing on his face, a cunning demeanour is held. With a black trenchcoat, he looks a lot like a bodyguard.

"What's going on?" Charles questions then he realises that no sound had come out of his mouth. He is unable to talk but can complete the cognitive process of speech.

"Right yes, you can't um, talk," He explains then nods his head at the scientist standing by the machine.

The scientist presses a button then turns a dial anti-clockwise, causing a weight of pressure to be put on his mind. Abruptly, the pressure stops and Charles gasps.

"H-How... did y-you do... that?" Charles infers and the man looks to his scientist co-worker blankly.

"I have no idea. I don't do the technical-"

"You see, it actually interacts with the part of your brain that allows you to-" The scientist starts to elaborate but the man in the trenchcoat glares at him, causing him to stop his conversation.

Charles clears his throat and shifts his position, intervening into the conversation, "Wait h-how long was I-I-I out for?"

The man does not acknowledge Charles' question and continues to explain the situation, "Right now, all you need to know is that you can call me 'Mr B.'-"

Charles clenches his jaw and glares at him, repeating rather stiffly, "How long was I out for?"

BZZZRRKK!

A wave of electric shocks zaps through his body, making his back arch a little and his eyes squeeze shut.

Mr B. scrambles to the scientist with fury and slams his fist down on the power button on the machine to turn it off.

An argument breaks out; Charles is in too much discomfort to comprehend any words between the two men but soon the scientist makes an exit for the door.

With only Mr B. still in the room, he pours out the situation for Charles, who does not dare to interfere out of being hopeless in the situation.

The rest of the conversation is a blur for the Professor, an overload of information he is, in actuality, not ready to fathom.

Mr B. kindly dresses the situation with great honour and favour for the country. The military of the US has discussed and come to the fine conclusion that the mutant community and the non-mutant community can join arms and help each other. With the on-going Vietnam conflicts, the government and secret services have devised a solution that might shorten the estimated duration of the war. The plans are to use the mutations from mutants and create hybrids that can aid the US in the war, helping them gain a defence and attack advantage.

After much research, the elite team working on the 'project' have concocted an injected formula that can super-enhance the powers of a mutant and also aid with the process of hybrid creation. 'It is the key to saving humanity from destruction', or so Mr B. claims.

"You're part of a good thing, Professor," Mr B. comments and Charles looks at the translucent glass plane with fascination, as shadows of people walk by in the hallway outside the room he is trapped in.

After the entire relay of information, Charles can only think of one question that he wants an answer for. "Where are we?" He asks and Mr B. chuckles.

"I told you all that and you have nothing to-"

Charles rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Do I really need to repeat myself twice for everything?"

Mr B. places his hands in his formal pant pockets and sucks in a sharp breath, "We're in France, in a place called Hénonville."

Charles shuts his eyes from exhaustion and no will to carry on forward, mumbling, "Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why me... for all this?"

Mr B. steps closer towards Charles, fidgeting with the buttons on one of the machines' panels. "Because you're probably the most brilliant of mutants alive right now. Why wouldn't we want your powers on our side in the war?" He shakes his head, "No, the real question is 'why not you?'."

BEEP BEEP!

Mr B. checks the time on his watch, switching off the alarm, and as if on cue, two women who seem to be nurses enter into the room and start detaching machines and placing them on movable trollies.

"Time for today's testing phase," Mr B. informs with a grin.

Charles watches every action with his senses heightened, making sure he does not miss any crucial movements and that they don't catch him off his guard.

A nurse unhinges the examination platform on which Charles lay from the harness on the wall that keeps it stable and starts to push the bed towards the door. Mr B. follows close behind, hands still in his pockets and a smoulder on his face-

A shrill scream breaks out, causing everyone to stop moving. Charles grimaces in pain, digging his head into the pillow to somehow stop the pain from intensifying. As people in lab coats run passed him, he widens his eyes with the realisation.

 "Continue the testing, no matter what. The 'TCH' phase is next!" Mr B. instructs his subordinate, who nods obediently.

"LILLIAN!" Charles yells and flails in hopes to loosen the restraints on his hands, "SHE'S HERE, LET HER GO!"

"Control him, don't let him see or hear anything!" Mr B. commands and jogs off to the other side of the hallway, "Take him to the boss."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER?!" Charles continues to scream, "Yeah you take me to your BOSS! I want to speak to someone superior!"

As he screams, nurses hold his arms and legs down to stop his outburst. He is wheeled to the other end of the hall, away from where Lillian's voice had erupted. Charles tries to look back but the wires attached to him stop him from it.

THUD!

Two large white, wooden doors swing open with the edge of the bed pushing at them, and Charles is moved towards the middle.

"Get me some answers! I will not rest until you tell me that..."

His dialogue dissolves into silence and he remains speechless at the sight inside the large examination room.

Screens handing across all four walls of the room, wires tucked away neatly and trailing across the ceiling, and a speaker at each corner of the room. In the centre of the room is a panel filled with multi-coloured buttons and a trackball for interaction.

"W-W-What is this place..." He mumbles, feeling oddly intimidated by the equipment set before him, "What's going on here?"

A screeching sound fills the room, a microphone turns on and someone taps the windshield foam placed on top. The bed is pushed forward slowly to a gradual halt and Charles' gaze remains on the two-way window and the man that stood straight with solitude right in the middle, a grin plastered on his face.

From inside the control room, he presses a button on the intercom and bends forward to speak into the microphone, "Good Afternoon Professor. My name is Ennis and I'll be conducting the tests today, preparing you for 'TCH'."