Xaviers!

"Hmph. Aren't you a clever girl."

"I have my moments," Tereza says, crossing her arms. "So how many of those 'schools' are the Russians running?"

"Ten thousand." When that earns the only appropriate response of silent contempt she corrects herself. "Three."

"See now you don't know what to think."

"Oh, I know what to think. What I *think* is I'm inclined to agree with your partners that you're an idiot. A show of good faith here might help me make some sort of case for you later, but once we get to where we're going, you'll have to deal with a person who sees things as much more black and white and you can probably guess which color she'll use to categorize your activities."

"Like you have any interest in defending me. Only the strong survive, but you guys are to compassionate to see that through. In that sense those fools drunk on vodka and caviar are right, the West is arrogant and weak."

There's a faint yellow tinge to who irises as she speaks, "Those of us who are strong defend those who are weak because the weak are there to give purpose for our strength. Without that purpose, all we have to do is devour each other and *that* is counterproductive."

"Sounds like a sweet deal for the strong. Not so much for the weak."

"Beats the Russian schools where the weak have no hope of survival."

"They provide what they can. You'd know if you hadn't broken the chamber."

"For the most part, I like me the way I am. I don't want to be some Russian major or Russian soldier."

"Then really, it's your fault for keeping them from doing their part."

"Their part for what?"

"Ah, ah, ah. Almost got me." she says, wagging her finger in Tereza's general direction as much as the restraints allow.

"Now, now. What harm could I possibly do with that information?"

"I might be an idiot, but I'm not stupid."

"Jury's still out on that one. So you've seen the project files on the 227 project?"

"Yup. Pretty boring stuff. There's much better ways of making two of something if you really wanted to."

"Are there any more of us?"

"Who knoooows." she says with a spooky voice as she intentionally slowly shifts into Tereza. It's disturbingly accurate. "But you're not going to fool my friends, they'll see through you in an instant!"

Tereza frowns at the perceived mockery, "I'm not looking to fool them. I owe your friend with the bland face the removal of his limbs. But I'm going to ask again, are there any more 227 project results running around?"

"There sure are and I got myself caught by one like a fool. Bastard strapped in some kinda machine and messed around with my memories!" she grins at Tereza. "The cerebral projector - oh sorry, telepath. She's close to you, no?" Her tone suddenly changes, almost as if she's rehearsing. "Samantha! Sa... Sam! You have to believe me! Please!" she pleads with just enough anger boiling beneath the surface to not be entirely unbelievable.

"Trying to fool her is not a thing you want to try. She won't take kindly to it," Tereza says. "And there's some things you won't be able to replicate." She smirks.

"Oh really? Are you suddenly an expert on the cocktail I hit you with? No powers, no telepathy, jumbled up memories. Are you sure you're you?" she laughs.

That seems to touch a nerve. "Fine. Be insane. I'm sure that will help you convince them that you're me."

"Let me out and I'll show you who's insane!" she growls at Tereza.

Tereza laughs in her face, "Fine. Keep your secrets. Someone will eventually get them out of you anyway and I won't have any reason to ask them to go easy on you." She turns to head back to the pilot's chair.