It's a question that requires a bit of context to properly answer.
"Around... ten years ago, what they called a disease called IAAN started effecting the United States. 98% of children between eight and fourteen died. That... continued as the next wave of children started to turn eight. Those of us who survived... we manifested certain abilities. I - changed before people knew a lot about IAAN. I was brought in for - experiments."
The numbers are like a gut punch, although one she has more basis to both understand and brace for than most. She knows what 98% of a population dying looks like, although Wildfire didn't differentiate by age.
That it was children makes it hurt more, and something in her expression gives subtly. She stares at him, but not as hard as she had been.
"I believe they were given a decent payout by the government. Though that was before a lot of stuff - collapsed."
As she can likely imagine, things hadn't exactly kept going as normal once the death rate started to grow to quickly for anyone to miss. And continued without any cure.
There's no real bitterness in his words. Too much had happened between then and now for him to be able to summon any real emotion. His nightmares about his family had eventually been replaced by his existence. He can't remember his life Before with the same clarity as he remembers what came after, but he knows it hadn't been happy.
She's seen people do terrible things since the Fall - she has, herself, done terrible things - but there's no excuse for that. There's nothing anyone can say to her that would justify selling one's own child to a laboratory.
"You said most of your life. You were younger than eight?"
"I had just turned eight. I was the youngest in the - program." He doesn't have even information to know how unusual that might be. He knows between ten and twelve remained the most common age range to start manifesting. Ten years. Sometimes it feels like the only life he'd lived. He only has fragments of his early childhood, and he doesn't know how much of that is true.
He shakes his head. Whatever else is true, the Admiral hadn't been the one to free him from the labs.
"I'm here to bring back the kids who were killed after. I was the only one who survived the lab. There were only three Oranges who weren't shot. All the kids who died in the camps, or in the special projects, or by adults who were afraid..."
He sometimes thinks his deal should be to bring them all back. All eighty million - if not more - children who hadn't had to die. But the changes that would make are far more extensive. There are too many variables for that to be his deal, not unless he can pin down a way where it might work.
Shot. Well, that sounds more like the world she knows.
A muscle in her jaw jumps and she looks aside, fingers curling into her shirt where they're hidden behind her elbows. It's at least a worthy goal. She hates being here and hates the system, but at least Nico is making the most of it.
It's what matters enough for him to have taken the Admiral's offer. It couldn't be simply to help someone. It certainly couldn't be to escape his world for the chance of a better life. But for all those children - he had chosen to say yes.
She lets the silence linger for a while, for much longer than most people are comfortable with; she's someone who has gone days without speaking, though, and she doesn't notice these days.
Finally, still looking at the wall: "You have trouble with crowds?"
Nico's gone days without speaking. There are times when it's good to have someone around who will break those silences, but he's not uncomfortable - he's not made more uncomfortable by her long silence. He does note it, to add to the rest of the things he's observed, but those observations are automatic.
"Yes. It's not just - the labs." It's all the labs in what he did and didn't learn, but there are other things at play. "The way I changed... I pick up details. I can't stop. When I'm around a lot of people... there's so much and it doesn't stop." The sensory overload can be a lot when he's outside, even when they aren't people around.
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"Around... ten years ago, what they called a disease called IAAN started effecting the United States. 98% of children between eight and fourteen died. That... continued as the next wave of children started to turn eight. Those of us who survived... we manifested certain abilities. I - changed before people knew a lot about IAAN. I was brought in for - experiments."
no subject
That it was children makes it hurt more, and something in her expression gives subtly. She stares at him, but not as hard as she had been.
"Where were your parents?"
no subject
As she can likely imagine, things hadn't exactly kept going as normal once the death rate started to grow to quickly for anyone to miss. And continued without any cure.
There's no real bitterness in his words. Too much had happened between then and now for him to be able to summon any real emotion. His nightmares about his family had eventually been replaced by his existence. He can't remember his life Before with the same clarity as he remembers what came after, but he knows it hadn't been happy.
no subject
She's seen people do terrible things since the Fall - she has, herself, done terrible things - but there's no excuse for that. There's nothing anyone can say to her that would justify selling one's own child to a laboratory.
"You said most of your life. You were younger than eight?"
no subject
"I had just turned eight. I was the youngest in the - program." He doesn't have even information to know how unusual that might be. He knows between ten and twelve remained the most common age range to start manifesting. Ten years. Sometimes it feels like the only life he'd lived. He only has fragments of his early childhood, and he doesn't know how much of that is true.
no subject
no subject
"I'm here to bring back the kids who were killed after. I was the only one who survived the lab. There were only three Oranges who weren't shot. All the kids who died in the camps, or in the special projects, or by adults who were afraid..."
He sometimes thinks his deal should be to bring them all back. All eighty million - if not more - children who hadn't had to die. But the changes that would make are far more extensive. There are too many variables for that to be his deal, not unless he can pin down a way where it might work.
no subject
A muscle in her jaw jumps and she looks aside, fingers curling into her shirt where they're hidden behind her elbows. It's at least a worthy goal. She hates being here and hates the system, but at least Nico is making the most of it.
"It's a good goal."
no subject
It's what matters enough for him to have taken the Admiral's offer. It couldn't be simply to help someone. It certainly couldn't be to escape his world for the chance of a better life. But for all those children - he had chosen to say yes.
He runs a finger along the edge of the table.
no subject
Finally, still looking at the wall: "You have trouble with crowds?"
no subject
"Yes. It's not just - the labs." It's all the labs in what he did and didn't learn, but there are other things at play. "The way I changed... I pick up details. I can't stop. When I'm around a lot of people... there's so much and it doesn't stop." The sensory overload can be a lot when he's outside, even when they aren't people around.