damned_institute | Nightshift 46: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Dist the Reaper]

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Nightshift 46: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Dist the Reaper]

Fonons did not usually thrive in this world. It was that very fact that had made certain that those from the planet of Auldrant did not tear the institute apart the moment they arrived here. (Though the regular brand of power limiting would have worked just as well, had fonons had been more plentiful.)

The battle at the coliseum just a few nights ago had been a special exception, however. Both of the participants had responded wonderfully, and that had been enough reason to inspire the Landel's doctors to perform some more research into the subject.

With enough time and careful study, they would probably be able to accomplish more than any native of that planet had managed. And wasn't one very such scientist the perfect pick for the first attempt? There had been that one other case, weeks ago, but a "hyperresonance" was a whole other field, completely out of the league of normal fonon usage.

So, how to give someone skill when there wasn't already blueprints written into his biological makeup? It all started with a few cuts here, a few injections there. The doctor smiled to himself as he looked down at the prone form of Dist, who was clamped down into a chair, his head properly exposed for the upcoming surgery.

As always, the light left the doctor's features a mystery, with only his lower body and part of his white-coated torso visible. One hand to his chin, he waited for his subject to awaken.

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The world came back into focus slowly. Dist couldn't remember much; he apparently had a new roommate, but he couldn't really recall anything else[he wasn't even sure why he knew that; they'd never spoken]. He was slumped forward a bit and as he came around he arched his back slightly; he posture was uncomfortable, and his spine popped in a couple places.

Halfway through the motion he realized that this was not a typical position to wake up in. He blinked his eyes open and looked around, testing his mobility and finding it significantly reduced.

This did not make for a happy Dist.

He glared when he spotted the doctor, pulling against his restraints a bit. "Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" And why couldn't he see the man's face?

Edited 2010-01-07 07:43 (UTC)

Whether it was just a lighting trick or something more out of the ordinary that made the doctor's features impossible to see didn't matter in the end. The effect was still creepy enough to unnerve most people, but this so-called God-General should have been an exception, shouldn't he? He'd done enough despicable things in his life that he hardly should have been panicking now.

Shouldn't this setup have been familiar? Though the doctor realized that Dist was used to it being the other way around.

"You can't guess?" he asked, and the smile could be heard in his voice. "This is practically your life, after all." Most likely because the man had nothing else. When no one cared about you, what else could you do but find something else to do with yourself? Immoral science wasn't always a person's first choice, but it was one thing they shared in common.

Well, Dist was also just now coming out of a drugged unconsciousness, so he was not exactly at his most observant. He tugged against his restraints again, giving the doctor his very best Intimidating Dist Glare, though it wasn't quite as effective as he'd have liked, given that he had to crane his neck slightly to look up from his position in the chair and that he man's face was shadowed. "Don't you dare touch me, you wretched savage!"

It was almost entertaining, how quickly some people would fall into screaming and threatening despite the fact that they were caught. As if their words would somehow delay the inevitable. In fact, the doctor actually enjoyed dragging things out, since it often made things more excruciating that way -- so a bit of talking before they got to the meat of this whole thing didn't bother him.

"Do you really think you have the right to say something like that, when you've toyed with someone's life yourself? Besides, there's nothing you can do to stop me," the man pointed out, his tone cool and calm, indicating that nothing about this situation bothered him. Certainly not the ethical problems, in any case. One hand lifted up from the pocket of his coat to point out the restraints that would keep Dist in that chair no matter what. Shouldn't he like that? What with his fondness for chairs and all.

Dist still stoutly refused to give up on the straps binding him to the chair; in fact, their refusal to budge just made him more impatient. "That's different," he spat, tone sour. "They weren't important."

Honestly, did he really think he had the right to just tie up Dist the Rose and do whatever he pleased?

This time the doctor actually did laugh out loud, without any effort made to suppress the peals of it. Why should he? What Dist had just said was downright ridiculous, and the man shouldn't be given any reason to doubt that.

"Neither are you," he said bluntly. "Haven't you figured that out by now? Or did you think that people ignored you because you smelled too strongly of roses?" The man's body -- or what could be seen of it, at least -- was shuddering with laughter that he was actually trying to hold back now that he was in the middle of talking.

"No," he continued more seriously. "It's because you're just as insignificant, if not more so, than anyone you've played with." And it was as simple as that.

"That's a lie!" Dist didn't even bother to modulate his voice, not that he ever did. He was too angry to do a silly thing like 'control himself.' "I'm a genius, and people know that. They needed my genius! Don't you dare laugh at me!" Even if the Commandant's plan was sort of insane and wholly separate from Dist's own goals, they had needed him there to make it work. If not, then why even bother keeping him around?

The fact that Dist was reacting so strongly only made it more obvious that the doctor's words had been ringing true. Maybe the man refused to admit it even to himself, but the doctor could tell as clearly as if it was written on Dist's forehead.

"But no one needs you anymore," he said, and his voice left no opening for argument. He wouldn't be surprised if the patient tried to fight back (verbally, that is) nonetheless, but he wasn't going to bother listening anymore.

"There's still hope for you," he continued, even if he had to speak over Dist's ramblings. "We've found a way to make you useful." Provided it worked, but he was confident. Not many of their experiments failed, what with the resources they had.

Being somewhat out of shape[getting around in either a flying chair or a battle mech wasn't particularly good exercise], Dist was inevitably starting to wear himself out from all the fighting against the straps holding him down. The doctor's last statement made him pause, and for the first time that night he started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. "You... you can't do anything to me," he said, somewhat less loudly. "Jade won't let you. You can't do anything to me!"

It had only been a matter of time before Jade's name popped up. The doctor had studied up on Dist extensively before tonight, and reading about Dist meant learning most of Jade's story as well. The two were connected, though it was through Dist's tenaciousness more than anything else.

Of course, their greatest sin had been committed together. And yet one had searched for some sort of redemption, while the other had only spiraled further down. It was no mistake that Dist was the one sitting here, rather than his so-called friend.

"You think he matters here? No, he's just like everyone else -- another specimen to be studied." Would Dist enjoy his own words being tossed back at him? The doctor doubted it.

He started to walk out of the man's line of vision to go retrieve his materials from where he'd arranged them to the side of the room. "And I'll do whatever I like to you," he stated firmly.

Dist twisted a bit in an attempt to watch the doctor, but he moved too far and the chair only allowed him a certain measure of free movement. "Wh-- where are you going? What are you doing?!"

It was almost impossible for Dist to picture Jade in his position. Of course, it would have been hard for him to imagine Jade being trapped in a mental hospital two weeks ago, and here they were. He wasn't sure if Jade even noticed that he was gone, or if he did whether he considered it a good thing or not. Hopefully he had noticed; if Jade really wanted to find him, Dist was confident that he'd be able to, creepy doctor be damned.

There was little point in responding to the patient's questions when he would be able to see for himself soon enough, and so the doctor silently pushed over the cart that had all the implements necessary for the procedure. A head-vice, a scalpel, a shining shard of some sort of stone (that Dist was very likely to recognize), and an arrangement of syringes, all loaded up with whatever mystery chemicals were required for this particular experiment.

Stopping it right in front of the chair that Dist was strapped to, the doctor decided to give the man a few seconds to try and guess what was in store for him. He crossed his arms over his chest in a satisfied manner, waiting.

For a few moments, Dist wasn't sure what to make of the sadistic-looking collection in front of him. He gave the doctor a slight glare before turning his attention back to the cart, glancing over the various tools. Was that a fonstone...?

And suddenly he realized what was about to happen to him. He looked back up at the doctor again, though this time his expression was slightly more panicked. "I've done this experiment," he said, somewhat carefully. "I can just tell you what happens; there's no reason to do it again."

At least the man was sharp when it came to one thing. He was able to piece it all together rhater quickly, though the fonstone did make it fairly obvious. It was almost unfortunate, though -- how easily he gave openings for the doctor to rub salt into the wound.

"Yes, but there'll be one difference. I'm going to succeed where you failed." It would be enough of a success, anyway. If there were some complications, then that was just something Dist would have to get used to. The doctor grabbed up the head vice and then circled around behind the chair in order to start fixing it onto the back of it.

That was certainly enough to get Dist pulling on his restraints again. "How do you expect to succeed? What are you going to do differently?" He was twisted around in his chair as far as he could, which unfortunately wasn't enough to actually watch what the doctor was doing. "I mean, mine succeeded just fine; there were just... you know, complications. Are you saying you can avoid the side-effects?"

If that were true, then maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

What point was there in asking what he was going to do when he was about to do it? Dist would see for himself in a few moments. Shaking his head, the doctor finished strapping the vice to the top-back of the chair and then grabbed Dist by the neck in order to pull him into it so that he could screw it all into place.

"There may be some side effects, but they won't be nearly as severe as in your attempt," the man explained as he worked. The man wasn't going to have to be sealed away somewhere just to make sure he didn't destroy anything in sight, at the very least.

Dist made a short gnk noise as his neck was grabbed, and he immediately started to put up one hell of a struggle about it. "Get your hands off me, you wretched savage!" he ~~all but~~ shouted, twisting as well as he could and jerking away as far as the restraints would allow.

Not that it really mattered, in the end, but there was no way in hell Dist would be submitting to this without a fight.

The doctor really should have been expecting this. Letting out an audible sigh, he pulled his hands away and held them in the air to show that he wasn't touching Dist for now. (He got the feeling the man would keep flailing despite that, however...)

"Do you really think that's wise?" he said, raising his tone so that Dist would be able to hear even over his own screeching. "If your head held steady while I work, I might slip and jam my scalpel somewhere it shouldn't go." Seeing how his target area was right beneath the man's skull, it wouldn't be difficult to accidentally kill him. And, contrary to Dist's belief, that wasn't the point here.

"I don't care!" Dist twisted, glaring over his shoulder as well as he was able. "I don't care about your work or your results or your stupid experiment; I want you to let me go and stay away from me!"

What? It worked once.

Dist clearly wasn't the sort of person who could see reason. No wonder he'd been a failure as a scientist. Seeing that he would have to make his point more clearly, the doctor walked back around and snatched the scalpel off of the cart. Even when he drew close enough to put the scalpel against the patient's neck, somehow his face was still not visible.

"I can end it right now, simple as that," he said, adding some pressure so that the small blade cut into the man's skin just slightly. "Or you can let me do the experiment and actually live through tonight. It's your choice."

Landel probably wouldn't be pleased if he spilled this man's blood all over the floor, but the doctor wasn't in the mood for hysterics anymore.

Well, that was unnerving. Just how was this person keeping his face hidden?

Of course, the more pressing issue was the blade at his throat. He scowled and tilted his head to the side, away from the knife, but he didn't struggle any more. He really, really wanted to spit in the man's face, but at this point Dist wasn't sure the doctor even had one.

And, of course, there was the knife. Dammit.

While Dist hadn't verbally conceded, his lack of protest made it clear enough that he realized he was cornered. Keeping the scalpel held to the man's throat, the doctor carefully worked his way around the chair once again so that he could get back to his original task of tightening the head vice around his patient's skull.

It was difficult to do it with one hand, which meant it was taking longer than usual, but any sudden movements from Dist would only end badly for him. At least they were finally getting down to business.

Dist wasn't really content to quietly seethe, but it was his only option at the moment so he had to put up with it. He didn't exactly cooperate, either; the doctor still had to move him manually. It was a petty revenge, but something was better than nothing.

"So how is this going to work?" he asked finally. He might as well make conversation; maybe he could pretend he was getting a haircut or something.

"You're extremely impatient to learn about something you were fighting to not have done to you," the doctor pointed out as he finally got Dist's head screwed into place. Now the patient wouldn't be able to move even a centimeter, which meant that the man's incision would be precise.

First, though, were the injections. He needed to prime Dist's body for accepting the implant, after all. Now that the man was properly restrained, the doctor moved around to pick up the first syringe and then shoved up the sleeve on Dist's left arm. "This is the simple part," he said as he slowly injected the man with the fluid, whatever it might be.

The tightening if the vice seemed to stir up Dist's panic slightly; he jerked a couple of times, testing the new restraint and confirming that he really couldn't move his head any more. He tugged on his arms again, though he didn't really expect it to help at all.

The injection burned slightly as it traveled down his arms and he hissed a bit. "You can't blame me for being curious," he said, though his tone was less curious and more extremely displeased.

Pulling out the syringe with a professional's carefulness once the first shot was done, the doctor set the needle down to be sterilized once this was all over. There was only one more injection left before they got to the fun part of this whole thing, and so the doctor quickly moved to grab up the second syringe from the table.

He uncapped it and turned his body to show that he was regarding Dist, even if his face remained shrouded. Completely ignoring Dist's comment, the doctor asked his own question. "Would you like it in the same arm or the opposite one?" Opinions differed, and seeing how it wouldn't effect the outcome in any way, he might as well ask.

Dist would have given the doctor a baffled look if he'd been able to turn his head. He settled for making a somewhat incredulous face at the air in front of him. "I don't know; same, I guess. Does it matter?"

"Not if you don't mind a particularly sore arm," the doctor replied with a shrug, leaning forward once again to prick the patient in what was almost the exact same spot as before. The fluid flowed into Dist's veins steadily, and once it was all out of the needle, the doctor extracted it.

Straightening, he set it down, picking up the scalpel he'd discarded earlier in place of it. There was the smallest bit of blood on it, which he wiped off on his latex glove.

Circling around for what should be the last time, until he was facing the back of Dist's head, the doctor bent his knees until he was level with where he'd be cutting. "I'd suggest you brace yourself," he said as a courtesy.

Sore was right; Dist winced, squeezing his hand and tightening his arm a couple times in an attempt to dissipate it, though it didn't really work. He promptly forgot about the pain when the doctor picked the scalpel up again, though.

"Wh-- stop it, what are you doing back there?" His voice was starting to rise again, unsurprisingly. Hopefully the doctor wasn't expecting his ears to be spared for the rest of the procedure.

"That fonstone needs to go somewhere," the doctor finally revealed. Bracing his left hand against the top of the chair, he carefully ran the blunt side of the scalpel against the back of Dist's neck, searching for the place where he'd need to cut.

Being able to find it just by feel, he then slowly flipped the instrument around and started to slice through the patient's skin with an impressive deftness. While this bit hurt, it was putting the implant in place that would really be the excruciating part. Hopefully Dist was ready to take what he'd in the past dished out.

Dist was absolutely not prepared to deal with this sort of treatment.

He yelped rather loudly and jerked against his restraints, though his head remained firmly immobilized. "Stop it!" he demanded, pulling a bit frantically at the straps holding his arms down. "I'm... I'm just going to tear it out when you let me go!"

So long as the man's head couldn't move, the doctor didn't really care what else he did. Even the screaming was something he could handle, though he really should have thought to bring earplugs.

"Even if it's stitched up? I'd like to see you try," he commented, tone still calm. The scalpel continued to work at opening up the back of the man's neck; the doctor forced the gash wide enough that the shard of the fonstone would be able to fit neatly into place. Blood was dripping down the man's shirt and even onto the back of the chair, but the doctor didn't seem to notice. That's what bleach was for, after all.

"It wouldn't be hard to pick the stitches out! And once they're gone it'll open up by itself!" It wasn't an ideal situation, but nothing about his current predicament was ideal. He was starting to bruise his arms with his struggling, though he frankly didn't notice yet. Oddly enough, he did notice how sticky his hair was getting, and there was a nagging at the back of his mind that told him that the blood would be really annoying to clean out once it dried.

Edited 2010-01-09 06:25 (UTC)

"You seem to have forgotten what I said at the start of all this," the doctor responded as he made his final slice. Tendons were exposed, which meant he needed to act fast and get the implant in place before the bleeding became too severe. He quickly rounded the chair to retrieve the fonstone and then returned to his place behind the patient.

"This very well might make you useful," he continued as he edged the shard toward the gaping wound. "For some reason, I imagine you won't be able to resist the curiosity of finding out whether or not that's true."

Dist tried and failed to shake his head. "I don't care," he said, sounding miserable but at least not screaming. "I'm plenty useful already. And I don't want to turn into a weird monster and go insane and die."

...Well, having seventh fonon powers would be interesting. But the side-effects seemed too dramatic for it to be worth it.

"Like I said before" -- and there might have been a sliver of irritation seeping into the doctor's tone now -- "it isn't going to be like that." There wouldn't be any changing into a monster or dying, at the very least.

The sanity thing he couldn't account for as well. Not that anyone would be able to tell the difference in an institution.

Lips curling into a smile, the doctor braced two of his fingers against the side of Dist's neck so that he could start slowly pushing the shard into the wound with his thumb. If all went well, it would nestle between two of the tendons in the man's neck.

Dist screamed.

It wasn't just the shard of glass being pushed into an open wound. There were hardly any fonons in the place to produce much of a reaction, but what few there were coupled with the chemicals he'd been injected with made the transfer all the more excruciating.

Where was Jade? Didn't he know something was wrong? Dist was planning on meeting up with him again that night; surely Jade had noticed his absence. It was just a matter of time, then.

...Right?

The doctor didn't judge the man for screaming. Anyone would have. He would have, especially since he hadn't had the common courtesy to use any sort of anesthetic. It just wasn't as interesting when the patients were out cold through the whole procedure, though.

He could have used a local, but that would have just taken up more time. It hadn't been worth it in the end.

Ignoring the hoarse yelling, he gave the shard one last push that shoved it in the final inch or two. It wasn't long before the blood flow covered up whatever last bit of the fonstone was left visible. Frowning, the man grabbed a sterilized cloth from his pocket and started to wipe Dist's neck clean so that he could sew him back up.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "That was the worst of it." He forgot how much the presence of that shard in the man's body would continue to ache. Still, it should eventually integrate and become one with him, and then the pain would subside.

Dist continued to make short little whimpers once the screaming subsided, panting slightly from the pain and the struggling against the chair. The pain hadn't really dulled, but it wasn't as sharp and piercing as it had been; more like an aggressive ache.

"Jade..." It wasn't a response to what the doctor was saying; truthfully, he barely even heard it. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Jade hadn't shown up. It hadn't been a realistic thing to hold out for, and he should have known that.

Now that the man was only making pathetic sounds and muttering the name of a friend (though from what the doctor could tell, the two could hardly be called "friends"), he was much less interested. The screaming was far more entertaining than this sulking, that was for certain.

Moving to the side of the room in order to get what he needed for the stitching (and a chair so that he could sit down to properly work at it), the doctor then returned, set up the chair, and got to stitching once seated. Strange, how a needle and thread was still used to put people back together.

Dist jerked again as the needle pierced his skin; it was a relatively minor pain compared to the implantation earlier, but now that the skin was open and inflamed it hurt more than it might have otherwise.

"Is this all?" he asked eventually, sounding tired. He didn't know what was going to happen to him after this; frankly, he didn't really want to know. It could be even worse than his current treatment, somehow. It was a frightening thought.

Edited 2010-01-10 18:30 (UTC)

With the blood continuing to get in the way, the doctor had to pause a few times in order to wipe the patient's neck clean before he kept on with his work. It was definitely a messy business, being an experimental scientist, but he wouldn't have taken the job here if he didn't like that sort of thing.

He was faintly amused by Dist's question. "Would you rather I do more?" he asked, wondering why the fool would tempt fate like that. Shaking his head to himself, he continued to thread the needle through the man's skin, back and forth.

"That isn't what I mean," Dist muttered. Really, wasn't that obvious? What sort of idiot would want more of this treatment?

The stitching, at least under all the pain, was nothing if not odd. He'd never actually gotten stitches before; coming from a universe with healing powers made them almost entirely unnecessary.

He wondered briefly how the doctor expected to release him from the chair without getting attacked. Dist was in a lot of pain, but he was certainly still capable of clawing at some jackass's eyeballs once he had the use of his arms again. That would be incredibly satisfying.

If the patient wasn't going to specify what he meant, then the doctor wasn't going to go out of his way to ask about it. Dist could clarify if he really felt the need to, but right now the man was more interested in getting the wound sewed up all the way.

It took some time, but the gash was only as large as it had to be to fit the fonstone in. Eventually the skin had been mended back together, though it would be a few days (by Landels' standards of healing, at least) until Dist was completely back to normal.

Or, well, normal as he would be after this.

Wiping the man down one more time, the doctor then stood from the chair and pulled his gloves off. It had been a successful night, as usual.

After a moment or two of waiting, Dist started lightly tugging on his restraints again. "You're done; let me up." After all, he couldn't just leave him there, tied down all night. That would be pointless.

"In due time," the doctor replied curtly. Now that he'd finished, all he wanted to do was get out of this place -- there was no point in listening to that annoying voice any longer.

"I'd give yourself a few days before ripping that thing out," he instructed, standing masked in front of the patient with his arms crossed over his chest. "You may find that it's worth keeping it."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out the door, disappearing to who-knew-where.

A minute or so later, the restraints keeping Dist held in place slackened and the neck-vice loosened, just like that.

At this point the restraints were all that were holding Dist straight-backed, and he slumped forward when they loosened, half-stumbling out of the chair and over to the door after the doctor... but he was gone, and Dist had been cruelly denied his revenge. It just wasn't fair.

Naturally the next thing he thought to do was reach back and finger the wound, wincing a bit at the contact. The whole area had this weird tingle to it under all the blood and pain, sort of like someone had spread menthol over it, and his hair was starting to get spiked and sticky. Tch.

Nothing could be done about it here; he'd have to find a bathroom or someplace with a sink to clean his hair out[it was a petty annoyance, all things considered, but Dist had been helpless enough for one day and he at least wanted to be able to compose himself as well as he could]. He straightened up slowly, belatedly testing his limbs and finding that, while the operation and everything made him somewhat weak and dizzy, he could at least stand upright. He walked rather deliberately back over to the chair, picking up and pocketing the scalpel the doctor had used on him. It was always a good idea to have a knife, especially in an unfamiliar place.

There was nothing else to do in here. He had no flashlight, and the lighting in the little room was completely insufficient to light up the hallway outside, so Dist made his way out slowly, keeping one hand on the wall beside him, half for comfort and half to keep him from swaying too much.

Edited 2010-01-11 08:22 (UTC)

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Nightshift 46: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Dist the Reaper]

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