From The First Page of the Diary Of Crstyal Amaquelin
Date: October 13th, 2000
Don’t Read This Max!
Dear Diary,
I guess I should start at the beginning which would be my birth. It was quite peculiar. That’s one of the first things you should know about me; and my brothers, sister and cousin. We’re a particular bunch, right from conception. Most children are conceived when their parents have intercourse, which I hope to most is common knowledge. I, on the other hand, am a product artificial insemination. Who I was artificially insemination into I am not sure of. I don’t know who my mother is. I know who my father is; Agon Amaquelin, a brilliant Russian born geneticist. From what I’ve read of my father’s files on my insemination to my time in the gestation; she was just a viable candidate he found. He called her ‘Subject M-08’ Mother number eight. My brothers Max and Locke both had different mothers. Max, the eldest, mother was only known as ‘Subject M-04’’,while Locke my younger brtoher was ‘Subject M-10’. My sister Dusa’s mother was ‘Subject M-07’, while my cousin Agar’s mother was ‘Subject M-06’. She was my father’s sister and the only thing I know of Max’s father was he was called ‘Subject F-01’. Each of us have a different mother but each of us did share one genetic trait; our mothers had the W-Gene, the pre X-Gene.
My father was the one who discovered the W-Gene though many in the scientific field doubt it’s validity but I never doubt my father. He’s always right. As I said the W-gene is the pre X-Gene. It is the genetic link between man and mutant. Every mutant has an ancestor which possessed the W-Gene. People with W-Genes are completely ordinary human beings but it’s what they pass on to their children that make them interesting. If a W-Gene woman was to have a child there would be a 4 % chance that the child would become a mutant. The number is greatly decreased if a man is the sole W-Gene carrier, coming at just .25% percent. Now 4% isn’t a high number in the least but the other 96% percent of child born for W-Gene parents are also given a W-Gene but unlike their parents when they have child that child is much more likely to become a mutant. Women under these conditions have a 20% chance of having a mutant child, while father’s have a 3% chance. If both parents are children of W-Gene that’s a 23% chance of a child being a mutant. The numbers rise substantially with each generation.
Now people have only been exhibiting the W-Gene for the last hundred years but eventually most people in the world will either possess the X-Gene or the W-Gene and after that people will only possess the X-Gene. My father’s theory is that eventually the human race will die out completely and be replaced by mutants.
Most doubt my father’s findings. My father always says that most people fear great minds. “Great minds like ours always bring change,” my father would say, “And change is the one thing people fear most.”
It seemed like I’ve digressed but I guess it is necessary to provide an explanation of the W-Gene to understand everything which is about to follow.
According to my father’s files my mother was a first generation W-Gene carrier, my father was third so it was about 10% chance of me being born with the mutant gene. Every Subject-M is a first generation W-Gene carrier. You see my father doesn’t want us to be born with the x-gene; he wants to create one.
From what I’ve read about my brothers and sister gestation my father would ftest for mutation during the beginning of the third trimester. After finding out if they were x-gene negative he would give the mothers different drugs, stimulates and chemicals during pregnancy. From what I understood there were ‘Subjects M-01’ was X-gene positive, so my father aborted the baby, while ‘M-03’, and ‘M-05’ fetuses died during pregnancy due to these drugs they had been given. Facts like this don’t really disturb me too much. Father says death of test subjects is part of science; trial and error.
If the fetus survived gestation obviously birth came next. While most infants are placed in their mothers waiting arms after birth we were placed right away in incubators so my father could monitor our health and progress. What came next was more drugging and chemicals.
At two years old my father would stop the daily doses and do it weekly, by age five it would be monthly. Age five is also when we’d begin our home schooling so besides the monthly doses we’d live a pretty normal life save for the fact that we weren’t ever allowed to travel outside the estate. It was until puberty struck that my father would begin the next stage in making the x-gene. From what I gathered, because these files my father kept hidden even from me, this included a lot of drugging and I am not sure what else. I don’t know. My brother and sister never talk about it and I was never privy to a transformation.
It was after the final stage that the mutation would occur just not in the way my father would expect or want. My father has yet to produce a perfect x-gene, each time it would come out imperfect. Yes my brother, sister and cousin have powers but in many ways they are a hindrance.
My brother Max is a telepath with mind control abilities and above genius intellect. Problem is he is certifiably insane. He hears voices, sees things and gets daily massive headaches. My father doesn’t expect him to live past 35, he is 20 now.
My cousin Agar has a supersonic voice. No not scream, but voice. If he even utters a word it could break the bones in your body. Agar hasn’t said a single word in three years, ever since his powers were forced out at 13
My sister Dusa is lucky. She isn’t insane or unable to speak but her power is relatively weak. She can control her hair. The problem is, if my sister isn’t given her weekly treatment her hair literally becomes uncontrollable.
Max, Agar and Dusa all have to take these weekly treatments of adrug my father called Terrigen Mist. If they didn’t take it they start getting ill. Max and Agar would get it worse, immediately becoming deathly ill. Max once went into a coma because he didn’t take his treatment. Dusa could survive about three weeks without the mist before she get sick, though of course her powers go out of control and week two her hairs fall out and becomes independent of her. It’s rather unnerving.
Only Locke has yet to go through the final stage. He is just eight years old after all.
And then there is me. Well the thing with that is I am not like my brothers, sister and cousin. When I was in my mother’s womb I tested negative for an X-gene but according to my father those test are never fully reliable. There was a ten chance it was wrong just like there was a ten percent chance that I would be born x-gene positive.
I was that ten percent. When my father tested me again after I was born; to his surprise I was x-gene positive. He was not sure if he had actually made a x-gene occur in gestation so he had to make sure. He found someone with a similar genetic code to my mother, Subject M-09. He couldn’t use my mother again as she was made sterile thanks to the drugs. He did the same things with Subject M-09’s fetus that he had done to me but when the baby was born it was born x-gene negative. The baby died a few months later most likely due to the drugs my father had given it.
But the baby being born human and later dying meant one thing. It meant that I was genetically given my x-gene. I was born with it like many other mutants before me. I was the real deal, the perfect x-gene, but to my father though I was a failure. He hadn’t made me anything special. He told he didn’t know what to do with me at first. I was a one year old who would day became a mutant. To him there was nothing that special about it. There was really nothing he could learn from me that he hadn’t learn from other mutants.
It was then he realized what I could be to him. All this time he had spent trying to make an x-gene appear in a person but what if he could do the opposite? What if he could wipe away the x-gene, cure the mutation? That’s what I was going to be used for. I would be his template for a mutant cure.
My father has yet to try and cure me. He takes samples of my blood once a month to perform test. He says he isn’t even close to coming up with a certifiable cure and that it took him almost eighteen years to begin his trails with the X-Gene. He also says he wants my x-gene to activate before he even begins any real experiments on me.
My father is also excited to see what my mutant power would be. I’m only twelve now. I turn thirteen next year. I’m as excited as my father as about it. I don’t want to be cured though because if I do I won’t be special anymore. I know that’s sort of childish to feel but its how I feel. I hope my father could somehow find a cure without curing me. He says he doesn’t want to pick up any mutants from the streets because that can always be easily traced back to him. My father was the only one in the family who actually existed to the rest of the world, legally at least.
I don’t know. I know my father loves me and would never do anything to hurt or upset me. I am his pride and joy, I just know it. Max is of course crazy, Dusa bitchy and Agar understandably withdrawn. So all he has is me and Locke. I love Locke but he acts his age way too much. So that’s why I know my father sees me as his future, as his protégé. I guess if he wants to cure me I have to let him but I know he has to see the risks involved in it. Either way I am going to make my father proud.
I guess that’s it for now…I hope father never sees this diary. If he did he would be so angry that I am writing all these important, confident information in a diary I was never supposed to have but I couldn’t help it. I feel trapped in this mansion. I want to do what my father wants me to do but I also want to have a life.
I feel guilty because I hate being here but I love my father. I feel so conflicted sometimes. It’s why I needed to have a diary. I need to pour my thoughts somewhere or I’ll go crazy. I can’t talk to anyone here about how I’m feeling because my father would just disapprove of such thoughts. But he doesn’t understand. Everyday I sit at my windowsill and look outside at the town beyond and just wonder what people my age are doing, if they’re having fun and living the life they want to live. I’m jealous of them and their freedom.
I have to go now, father is calling me. It is time for our night time study. Everyday at 9 on the dot. Almost everyday here is the same. I just wish father would let me out to met people. But no; outsides influences could prove to be variables in his equation.
He says one day, when he successful creates an x-gene and cures one too, he’ll reveal us to the world as his true greatest accomplishes. I wish that day would come.
End of Entry
April 28th 2004
Outskirts of South Salem, atop a large hill, The Amaquelin Estate
“That’s my diary!” I screamed loudly.
I had just walked into the living room when my eyes immediately fell to a large brown, leather book being held by someone’s hand. I recognized it immediately as one of my secret diaries which I had kept hidden under my floorboards. How someone found it or knew about it was beyond me but there he was. At first I didn’t he even take much notice to the color of his hand or any of his features, as the second I entered the room my eyes traveled to the diary but now I began to realize that there was someone in my house who I didn’t recognize.
He seemed to be wearing a black suit that one would wear to a funeral; from his jacket and pants to his shoes, shirt and silk tie. It truly looked liked he was dressed in morning. He seemed to be tall, lean and fit. As he put my diary on my lap and his face came into view I gasped audibly.
He wrinkleless skin was pure white. He had glowing red white eyes, white lips, and a strange large red diamond shape on his forehead. As he smiled with his white lips I could see his sharp teeth. He looked somewhat dignified but still altogether horrible. As he stood up from the couch, my diary still in his pure white hands, I noticed just tall and powerful looking he was. He had to be almost seven feet tall. I could almost feel his power. There was just something about him that sent chills down my spine.
“Hello Crystal,” he said in posh sounding British accent, “Is your father home? I believe I have a proposal for him,” a horrible smile crossed his face and I stepped back, “And for you.”

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