damned_institute | Night 67: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Kratos Aurion]

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Night 67: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Kratos Aurion]

Despite all their efforts, magic was still something unattainable. Technology was something that the doctors here understood, but magic was mystical and strange and always worthy of further study. Landel, of course, understood it all, but Landel was another matter entirely, wasn't he? Not even his staff knew everything about him, or even close to it.

The point was, Kratos here contained an item that was of great use. Something that could be installed on a person (with enough skill, that is) and used to boost their strength and give them access to all sorts of wonderful abilities. Built right into the man's hand was a way to breed a whole team of soldiers.

Really, it was a shock that they hadn't brought him up here before now, but the time had finally come, and the doctor in charge of his case watched with a smile on his lips as Kratos laid there on the exam table, breathing nice and even after he'd been sedated and dragged up here.

It should be fairly simple, to remove Kratos' Cruxis Crystal and replace it with a replica. The doctor knew the whole story, though, of how that sort of thing could have unwanted consequences. He didn't want to completely destroy Kratos, just alter him. One small donation to their cause, and they'd even put him back together in the end. It wasn't such a bad deal, compared to some.

With the light set up to shine over Kratos' prone body, the doctor waited in the shadows for him to awaken.

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Even though Kratos had submitted without a fight to the orderlies, they'd drugged him anyway, forcing him to fight the sluggish, uphill battle to pull himself out of the depths of unconsciousness. If he'd been able to do so while cognizant and aware of what possibly awaited him in the waking world, he might have actually thrown the fight and attempted to stay within the safe confines of his drug-induced stupor, but awakening was instinctual and automatic; it was not until he felt the heat from the light on his face and opened his eyes just a tad against the glare that the reality of his situation dawned.

And yet, it was not enough to stir him to panic (--not yet, at least, but that threshold was high). No, he had never awoken to find himself strapped down on an operating table before, but Kratos had found himself in enough compromising situations to know how to keep a level head without forcing himself to extraordinary levels of mental discipline.

The first step was to keep his imagination in check and his mind relatively empty - to relax, as difficult as that was. To be unyielding, stubborn - defiant - was to eventually give them the satisfaction of watching him break. It was better to just absorb things, accept and resign himself to whatever came, no matter how horrible, and spare the doctor the need to also crush his spirit in the process.

"Hm." There was no one around that he could see, but Kratos could sense the doctor's eyes on him and feel the aura of almost gleeful anticipation hanging in the air. "I did wonder when you'd bother."

As he spoke, he discretely tested the restraints, although it was more of a token gesture than anything. The doctors here were cut from the same cloth as Kvar, and as Kvar had paid especial attention to the details of keeping his subjects helpless and entirely at his disposal, so the same was expected here--and they had not failed to rise to the occasion.

It wasn't much of a reaction, but the doctor realized he couldn't expect much from a patient who had been here as long as Kratos. He'd probably heard countless horror stories from his fellow patients by now, must have realized that eventually his time had to come.

"We like to keep you all on your toes." If they followed a pattern, then the patients would be able to predict when they'd be taken, so what would the fun in that be? While they'd failed to surprise Kratos, there were plenty of other patients they'd succeeded with. The doctor wasn't going to take this unexciting awakening too hard. There was work to be done, after all.

He walked toward the middle of the room, took in the signs of sedation on Kratos' face. "So, I can't help but ask, Kratos... what do you think you're here for tonight?" There was nothing wrong with a little bit of chitchat before they got started, right?

He might have laughed darkly at the doctor's question if his brain weren't still so fogged. "I could think of a few reasons." Kratos had become keenly aware of his scientific potential once he'd learned of the random experimentation that happened at night, for, on his hand--running through his veins, even, if he counted the Aionis in his bloodstream--was an exotic technology so powerful that it allowed mere mortals to ascend to god-like heights. He would have been honestly surprised if that had failed to capture at least one person's attention, especially since the Institute seemed to have military connections. After all, Exspheres were at their core living weapons, their hosts merely conduits through which they could reveal their power.

And if the Institute were to study the effects of such a device, why, it had acquired perhaps the best possible specimen: him, the only testament left to the scientific genius of Tethe'alla's magitechnology department, a man whose body had long since acclimated to the strain of accommodating an Exsphere.

--Or, someone just wanted to see him squirm. That was probably a valid reason.

"If I were to hazard a guess, though, I would say that you want something from me." It would hardly be a loss. Although Kratos had counted on the Crystal for thousands of years, he was ready to regain the rest of his mortality - welcomed it, even.

"You're better at this than some," the doctor said with a smile as he drew even closer, getting within range, though his face remained hidden. It was no surprise that Kratos was capable of handling this sort of situation, though, seeing how he was thousands of years old. Some of the people brought up here were mere children, after all. Age was really no consideration when it came to who made it on the table.

The doctor reached out and grabbed Kratos' wrist, lifting it up as far as he could considering the restraints. It brought the crystal into the light, and the doctor rotated Kratos' hand to catch the gleam of it.

"I'm sure you know full well what makes you valuable. But don't worry, we won't leave you out in the cold." He released Kratos' wrist then, stepping back to cross his arms over his chest. "There are some factors we can't quite predict, though, so you'll need to be prepared for anything."

He could have been much crueler about this, but with someone like Kratos it seemed far easier to simply get down to business.

The last person to suddenly grab his wrist had nearly earned a fork in her throat for her efforts, but this time, Kratos's other hand could only twitch in vain as it reached, by instinct, for the weapon that wasn't there. Without him meaning to, his breath caught briefly in his throat; his whole body tensed in anticipation of a swift retaliation as the doctor hauled the Crystal into the light. Restrained as he was, though, all he could do was lie there and wait.

It was not until his wrist was allowed to fall back to the cold table that he felt himself relax. "How kind of you, giving me forewarning."

The doctor's words and actions only served to confirm what he'd expected: they wanted to remove the Cruxis Crystal and take it for themselves. What he hadn't counted on was this possibility of a replacement, and frankly, that was the more concerning part, because, as the doctor had hinted, "anything" could happen. Short of death, though, it would likely be nothing new: he and pain were old friends--or so he could continue to tell himself.

Kratos paused and then asked, "What are you going to do with it?" The "it" was not specified, but they both knew perfectly well what he'd meant.

Edited 2012-12-08 10:18 (UTC)

The way that Kratos' body seized up the moment that the doctor grabbed his wrist was definitely interesting, and the man couldn't help but take a sick enjoyment out of it. It was like Kratos couldn't help himself, and if that was his reaction simply to having his wrist gripped, how would he respond when the crystal was sawed out of him? Thankfully, he wouldn't have to wait long before he found out.

As for the question, it wasn't as if the doctor was obligated to answer it. He wasn't obligated to do anything that one of the patients demanded, but he didn't mind letting a few tidbits come out here and there. Just to make things more interesting.

"We'll study it, of course. If we can learn how to replicate it, then even better." A few poor saps would probably have to give their lives for the testing they would need to do to perfect it all, but there wasn't much that could be done about that.

The doctor shrugged and then moved over to the cart of his medical tools, reaching out for his scalpel. "But that's enough chat for now, don't you think? Let's get started."

If we can learn how to replicate it, then even better. Of course they wanted to replicate it; what good was one Exsphere user when you could have more than ten? From there, it wasn't a stretch for Kratos to imagine the subsequent experiments; he'd already been the primary subject of a few of them, after all, during the war. None of them were things he would ever wish other people to experience, especially since his success had been preceded by a long string of messy failures.

At this point, though, he couldn't even refuse to give them what they wanted--well, he could, but only if he wanted to make the doctor laugh. Kratos reminded himself of his previous advice: just accept. There was nothing he could do now, and wishful thinking would only make things worse.

He sighed, closed his eyes against the harshness of the light, and tried not to think of the lives that would shortly be claimed by the rock soon to be cut out of his hand, Key Crest and all. "Very well."

It was true that Kratos' acceptance of all of this took a lot of the fun out of it, but the doctor hardly ever had willing subjects. Of course, Kratos was only so willing, only behaving this way before he knew from experience that there was no way out. There had never been a recorded incident of any patient being rescued from one of these kidnappings, after all.

With the sterilized scalpel in hand, the doctor wheeled a chair over and then sat next to the exam table. He turned Kratos' wrist in his hand again until the crystal was revealed for him to operate on.

Getting the actual crystal itself out was a simple job. Just a few cuts into the skin around it, and it should pop out easily. Of course, the doctor didn't bother with any local anesthetic, but just made quick, deliberate slices into Kratos' skin. "I heard that your son is here now," he said conversationally. "He has one of these too, doesn't he?"

Kratos winced as the doctor began his work, and with each cut, he could feel the Key Crest coming free as the skin holding it in place gave way. The pain of that, though, paled in comparison to the dagger that came in the form of eight little words: He has one of these too, doesn't he?

The doctor said them as if he were merely commenting on the weather, but the threat was real, and worst of all, it spoke directly to the thing that Kratos feared most. He could be crushed, broken, ruined beyond repair--there was no depth he would not plunge to, no friend, life, title, value--nothing that he would hesitate to sacrifice, so long as Lloyd was safe. And if he failed in that small yet life-consuming task, then he might as well consider himself dead.

Naturally, that fear, thus provoked, was enough to shatter his previous determination to remain unaffected. "You--" Kratos's head jerked toward the doctor, his eyes filled with a rare, cold fury. The urge to uselessly struggle against the restraints bubbled up, and he noticed for the first time that he could not keep a firm grasp on his mana: they'd sealed it away, damn them--

This is what he wants, you idiot; you're giving him exactly what he wants.

That realization was enough to shock him back to his senses, and as the anger began to drain from his face, Kratos seemed to go limp, his energy spent. He looked away, back up at the light.

"He does."

The doctor had known exactly what he was doing, of course. The odd relationship between Kratos and Lloyd was no secret to them, and it would have been remiss of him to not bring it up during a session like this. From what he understood, Lloyd didn't even know the truth. What a tragic little tale... It was exactly the sort of thing that they liked to play with.

Not that they had any plans to bring Lloyd up here yet, but that could change at a moment's notice, especially if Kratos' session went well. That had partly inspired their decision to finally bring Kratos up here, in fact.

Either way, the doctor took a moment to relish in Kratos' sudden, sharp reaction -- a large change from how composed he'd been so far. It didn't take him long to recover that strong guard, but the damage had already been done.

The doctor made a few more exacting cuts with the knife, digging it down under the key crest to make sure that it all came free, and then finally the crystal and the crest came off and fell into his other hand. It was covered in blood, but it was in one piece, which was all that mattered.

"I wonder what they'll want with him," he remarked as he turned away to put the crystal into some cool storage so that they could examine it later. "On one hand, they might want his crystal too. But then again, if this session goes well, we won't even need his anymore. There might be some other use we can get out of him..."

It was all musing, of course, but that would probably be enough to set Kratos further on edge.

Kratos barely registered the Key Crest finally popping free from his hand, far too occupied with, despite his best efforts, turning over each of the doctor's words in his mind. It was no surprise that the doctor would try to exploit their relationship - familial bonds were easy targets - but somehow, he had found himself unprepared for the blow. Normally, he could anticipate what might be used against him and steel himself. This time, though, he'd known quite well what would be coming, and it still hadn't taken much at all for the doctor to worm his way under his skin and dent his carefully constructed shield of indifferent resignation.

The obvious conclusion was that he still cared too much--but wasn't that how a father was meant to be? Funny how he never consciously tried to mold himself into a parent, yet always seemed to so naturally act like one anyway...ridiculous.

"You might as well just make the most of your current opportunity." --in other words, "use me instead". It was humiliating to have to even suggest that, but Kratos said it without a hint of shame, even though the chances of the doctor honoring his unspoken request were slim to none, and all he'd done was probably amuse the man. He would leave no possibility untouched, not when it came to Lloyd.

The words Kratos spoke in return were definitely pointed. But even if the doctor could honor his request, it wasn't as if it was up to him in the first place. Not that he felt much pity for the man on the exam table; he didn't have the luxury for to feel something like that. Nor did he wish for it. Sadistic tendencies were more or less a job requirement here.

"I'm definitely not going to let this chance go to waste," he said as he went in search of the replacement crystal. "You know," he said as he grabbed for it, turning back to face Kratos and let him catch a glimpse of it, "you should feel honored. It took hours and hours of work to create this crystal, and I think it's going to work very nicely."

Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe there would be horrible consequences, but that frankly wasn't the doctor's problem. After a few seconds spent standing there with the crystal in hand, letting the anticipation build up slightly, the doctor stepped forward and fitted the crystal into the open wound on Kratos' hand. He'd need to either stitch it to the skin or burn it into place, but he was willing to experiment there.

Yes, what an honor. They'd told him that the first time he'd received an Exsphere as well: It is quite an honor, Sir Aurion. Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth.

The instant the pseudo-Exsphere touched his hand, Kratos felt a familiar chill shoot up his arm: like the original, it was already sinking roots into its new host, carefully working its way into his mana. Offhandedly, he wondered if they'd really managed to even replicate the Exsphere's parasitic nature, but that was hardly the most concerning thing at the moment.

"And yet you've installed it improperly." At least, he was hoping that was all it was. For one, an Exsphere without a Key Crest was a time bomb; even if this one wouldn't suck his mana dry, it was certainly already interfering with his mana. For another, his fingers were starting to tingle, something that had never happened when he'd first been equipped with his previous Crystal--actually, it wouldn't have normally been so alarming were the tingling sensation not rapidly intensifying.

It was fascinating to watch how the crystal burrowed its way into Kratos' skin, almost as if it was alive. In reality, it was more of a reaction than anything else, something scientific with a perfectly understandable explanation behind it. (For anyone who was smart enough to follow along, at least.)

"Improperly?" The doctor peered down for a few seconds and shrugged, as it seemed to be going smoothly so far. When Kratos' fingers started twitching, he didn't even behave as if he was that alarmed. And he wasn't -- this had been expected, after all.

"I told you that this might have some consequences," he reminded Kratos. "But let's see how your body manages this before we take any drastic measures." They had prepared a few drug cocktails to use in the event that things went wrong, and while the doctor could have just injected Kratos with them from the start, wasn't it more fun this way?

By now, it felt as if his entire arm were on fire. Kratos had come to the conclusion that it was the result of nerve damage, but that was where the questions began. The crystal hadn't been forced in hard enough to cause actual trauma...

He managed to raise his head ever so slightly to get a look at his hand and, as he watched his skin begin to bubble, darken, and contort before his eyes, realized what was going on.

Oh.

That was all the warning he managed to give himself before the world erupted into a bright hot mass of pain. Kratos gasped as all the air was knocked out of his lungs and his head slammed back against the table. His arm, meanwhile, exploded out of its restraint as it grew, swelling up into a grotesque, mottled mass of flesh, while his fingers melded and then split into claws, pale white under the light. The limb shuddered and writhed as if possessed, one part of the monster slowly consuming him from the inside out having finally emerged from its human shell.

If he were fully cognizant, he might have seized the opportunity to try to escape since one arm was now free, but the mana was burning through his consciousness as well, picking up his thoughts and tossing them carelessly aside, until all that remained was the knowledge that he was in an unbearable amount of pain, that it was not ending, and that he was going to die. For some stupid reason, though, his body was refusing to allow him the luxury of accepting the inevitable by simply passing out and collapsing under the weight of the Exsphere; for some pointless reason, he was struggling anyway to hold on to the scraps of his humanity despite the pain, to fight the battle against the searing caress of his own mana turning against him.

Of course, his bizarre willingness to put up a fight did not make the battle any less useless: having found a foothold, the transformation had begun to tear relentlessly through the rest of his body, shredding his shirt as it began working across his chest and slowly up his neck. Kratos twisted and squirmed, his head jerking from side to side in some useless attempt to escape the little tendrils of mottled brown now tracing their way up his cheek, burning through flesh and blood in their wake, scorching them dry and then melting them down into something vaguely crystalline.

Dimly, it occurred to him that he was making that strangled, wheezing noise, the one made by those who ought to have died, and yet, by some cruel twist of fate, had been left with just enough life to be denied.

Edited 2012-12-19 09:32 (UTC)

It happened much, much faster than the doctor could have anticipated. He'd heard all of the reports about what took place when someone was given a fake Exsphere, but reading about it was different from seeing it. What he'd expected to be gradual took over Kratos' body like a wildfire. It happened so quickly that he could barely track it with his own eyes, and trying to take notes on it would be completely impossible.

No, instead the doctor was going to have to react. One restraint had already blown free due to the sheer girth of Kratos' transformed arm, and that would only continue if he let this proceed any further. There wasn't time to play around.

Quickly, he dashed over to the closest counter and grabbed for one of the stabilizing injections, holding it tight in his hand as he popped the cap off and moved back toward Kratos. At least the patient seemed too overwhelmed by the pain and shock of changing to actually try to lash out with his newfound strength.

It made it simple enough for the doctor to move around the table and then jab the syringe into Kratos' unchanged arm.

He could feel his tenuous grasp on his mind slipping, and as the darkness began to descend, Kratos gathered the last of his strength to plead for his death: far better that than a murderous rampage. He inhaled, a long, shaky, distorted breath that was probably one of his last--and then nearly choked as the contents of the syringe plunged into his other arm began to circulate.

The pain did not immediately begin to subside: the monster in his flesh, faced with extinction, fought back, the mana intensifying in its flow in an attempt to overcome the new obstacle now halting its progress - so much, even, that he did nearly pass out - but eventually, it surrendered, and slowly, far more slowly than the original transformation, the drug began to beat his body back into its original form.

His left arm was still free and now probably back under his control, but the world was still a hazy mess of white light, and regardless, Kratos was too exhausted to do much more than lie on the table and stare mindlessly upward while his mind tried to reassemble itself into something resembling functional.

The drug took some time to get going, but that at least gave the doctor a chance to record what he'd just seen. It was hard for him to even believe that something like that could happen at such an alarming rate. On the other hand, Landel clearly had the ability to change patients into monsters (and to cure it, as he'd just done with that syringe)... The real point of all this was obtaining that crystal.

The doctor continued to watch as the monstrous changes to Kratos' body reverted, though the sight of that human arm laying there without any restraint spurred him into action. He grabbed for a set of handcuffs from one of the room's drawers and then moved over to cuff Kratos to the table. It was a crude restraint method compared to what they usually used, but after what Kratos had been through, the doctor doubted he'd be able to break through.

A few more moments passed by, and eventually Kratos' breathing started to slow. The doctor smiled and drew close again. "I told you we wouldn't leave you to rot. I imagine you could have used that drug a few times yourself." The doctor knew exactly what sort of horrors Kratos had seen, and saw no reason to step around them.

And then, just like that, it was done. His entire left side was still tingling, as if he were being jabbed with a series of tiny needles - nerve damage, he reminded himself; the human body wasn't built to effortlessly accommodate a sudden evolution into a giant monster - but the debilitating, blinding pain was gone, having drained away seemingly through the crystal still sitting innocently in his hand.

Kratos barely flinched when the doctor handcuffed him to the table, still too worn out to even bother with a protest, not that he would have made one even if he did have some strength left. That a restraint was still needed, though, suggested that more was in store, as if an encore was needed after the magnificent performance he'd just put on. That possibility was just a bit frightening--no, actually, it was incredibly frightening. Now that lucidity was returning, he remembered that, as much as he had been thoroughly looking forward to it not more than a few seconds ago, he did not actually want to die. He had given up on that desire, convinced himself (or, been convinced, more like) that it was more worthwhile to battle through all the mess he'd made of his life over the past four thousand years than to just give up.

The problem now was that he had no idea how much more he could endure; what he did know was he was hanging on to life by a single thread, and sanity by a considerably thinner one.

The doctor drew close, close enough that Kratos could feel his breath on his face, and then decided it was time to bring down the figurative hammer on the other weak spot in his shield. This one, at least, he'd grown slightly less sensitive toward, since it had been brought up so often in the past month. Regardless, the allusion, no matter how slight, to Anna and her manner of death was still toxic enough to elicit a reaction: "Go...to hell," Kratos rasped as he met the doctor's eyes with about as much steel as he could muster. It was a totally pointless and unhelpful thing to say, but somehow, it felt very satisfying. He could, occasionally, surprise himself.

What a typical response. Though coming from someone like Kratos, it could be seen as a victory of sorts. The doctor only smiled, though that was hidden by the shadows that consumed most of the room. He sighed and spun on his heel, stretching up into the air as he realized that tonight would count as a job well done. The crystal had been retrieved and Kratos had been preserved, which meant that he'd met all of Landel's requirements.

"Don't you think we might already be there?" he teased. "But no, it's good to see that the drug to suppress those monstrous tendencies of yours works as expected." Otherwise he would have had to call in a team to deal with the raging beast in the exam room, which would have more or less ruined his week.

"We'll have to keep an eye on you, of course, and observe just what kind of long-term effect that crystal has." The doctor couldn't assume that Kratos was completely off the hook now, but that was what made this all so interesting, wasn't it?

Long-term effect...? Well, there was always the effect of eventual death to consider; that would be - Kratos laughed inwardly - enlightening--and wouldn't it be well-deserved, a painful, drawn out death by Exsphere? It would certainly match his life.

There was another name on the tip of his tongue, a murky demon from the far past that had recently come to light, but its full identity was cleverly eluding him. Perhaps he was better off for it: he could save the dread for later, when his brain wasn't so utterly preoccupied with trying to comprehend what had just happened to him in the past ten minutes or so.

"...'m sure you'll find it" - Kratos didn't know why he was bothering to talk at this point, but his mouth was still moving, however slowly, the words coming without much thought; it had to be instinct, a last-ditch attempt to keep up some kind of appearance - "...fascinating."

Well, there was no doubt about that, was there? The doctor smirked and nodded, the action pronounced enough that Kratos might be able to make it out if he was paying enough attention. Which wasn't likely, seeing what he'd just been through.

With the doctor's job all done, and in a neatly and timely manner, he had to wonder if he should set Kratos loose, let him stumble out to see if he had any friends (or family members) coming to find him.

On the other hand, he might want to keep him for just a little bit longer to make sure that nothing went immediately wrong...

"Well, it's certainly something you should remain aware of yourself," he said at a delay. "You can tell Lloyd all about it."

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Night 67: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Kratos Aurion]

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