For Treason, Act II, Scene x
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xp_logsKyle wakes up from his procedure. The doctor comes in to assess his recovery and how he is adjusting.
And makes sure his mental state is also adjusted accordingly.
TW: Violence, Gore, Medical Experimentation, Indoctrination, Suicidal Ideation
The room that Kyle woke up in was indistinguishable from the one he'd first come to consciousness in after being abducted. Sterile, impersonal, and all too quiet.
The last three times he'd woken up he hadn't been sure if he'd been tased again. Stun baton'd. Maybe a fucking shock collar or something. His hands burned, the nerves in his lower back were on fire, his legs twitched automatically. He'd shift and groan or let out a pathetic whimper and try to push himself up. The last time, he'd gotten a cool, dry hand on the back of his neck and Dr Killebrew's calm voice.
"Easy now, Mister Gibney. You're doing very well. You need to rest, though. Let your body do what it was made to do."
And then relief, muscles relaxed, pain sliding off his bones like snowmelt, and everything would go dark and slippery.
The time, the burning was limited to his fingertips, toes, tongue, the room was silent, he couldn't smell anyone so he rolled on his side, pulled his knees to his chest. Braved the sick feeling in his gut long enough to look down - scrub pants again. There were healing scars everywhere - perfect lines from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, down the backs of his hands, and curved lines over his ribs. Absolutely precise, almost machined and still pink and angry.
It took so much energy just to sit up. His arms, his shoulders, his abdominal muscles fought back. The wall was cool and smooth and he let his head fall back against it with a muffled clank, and slowly brought one hand up to his head. Fuck, again with the buzzcut. Could they just let him fucking keep his hair, no, of course fucking not.
No bite guard, no restraints, no muzzle this time. Kyle rested against the wall, breathing heavily until his heartrate slowed down again, and then tested standing. One long heavy leg down on the floor, the other, push up against the cot, and fight the wave of nausea and vertigo as his sense of balance fought against the extra weight. Up, moving, a few steps to the toilet and sink. The sink worked - and he cupped his hands and drank - and spat blood, and drank again and spat again, until he stopped tasting iron and acid and the water came back out of his mouth clear, and then he just drank until he didn't feel like immediately vomiting.
The door opened and Killebrew walked in. "Excellent, hydration is going to be very important as you recover. Your vitals look good thus far. Let's see how the rest is doing, the things we can't measure with a machine." He snapped his fingers at the open door.
"If you snap your fingers at me again, I will make sure you find a way to lose them." Oh, that could only be one of the Frost siblings. And it was. She did not look happy to be behind him.
"The snap was for the guard, Miss Frost, I would certainly never stoop to something so gauche for you," the doctor replied with an amused smile. "Nevertheless, I would greatly appreciate it if you would ensure that Mister Gibney's mental state is also as expected."
Kyle snorted a wet little scoff of disbelief at the same time the Frost sibling did.
=
Kyle Gibney was not a complex man. His mental landscape reflected this. Rolling fields of grass and more grass and endless grass, the occasional wildflower, the even more occasional tree. In the middle, and always in the middle, regardless of movement or perception, a flattened area, one tree, a hammock and a firepit.
He was leaning against the tree, arms folded, the picture of casual relaxation if you ignored the way every muscle twitched in readiness.
Nothing around Kyle immediately changed, but there was a Shift in the air. It went from clean and warm to... wet. Not like rain, but rather humidity. The tree trunk behind Kyle darkened, the bark softening. The wind blew. The fire flickered.
"Well. That's new. Never been a swamp before." Kyle flicked something out from under his claws. "You know what's weird? The like, six times some psi has brought me here, I always have long hair." He picked through a long tangle. "I had like massive third degree burns one time and no hair, and in here, still this." It was windblown and down to his shoulders. "What do you think that says about my self image?"
There was an absent hum, and the odd feeling of being examined - like someone had stuck Kyle under a microscope.Then a fleeting thought of a red-haired, laughing woman flashed through his mind.
Do you miss her?
"Yeah." He leaned up against the tree, and continued to pick through the long tangle of hair, with no success. "It'd be great if she was here, right? Like. here here, not like out there here." Kyle's smile was a little dopey, until it settled into a resigned sadness. "I don't think I want her out there, but I'm not sure. I don't know what to do with the kids sometimes. "When Laura gets back she'll need somebody not me because she needs somebody she can say no to, and I dunno what's going on with Liam, he's taking so many showers." He waved at the blonde, who had her head down, long straight hair covering her face. "Don't say it, I'd know if it was that. And Jessie is.. spiraling and you..." He pointed directly at her" ... are what you are, and who knows how long I'm gonna be down.":
He let himself slide down to the ground, back still firmly against the tree trunk. "But they'd make her sad here and I'd have to hurt someone for that."
"Never took you as one for soliloquies," 14 said, appearing astrally off his shoulder. "Did nobody ever tell you that talking to yourself was a bad sign?"
Kyle let his head fall back, laughing until he coughed. "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time, and all of our yesterdays have lighted fools.."
He'd paused heavily after each sentence, words growing slower as he spoke, and ended staring off into the distance before he looked over his shoulder at the other Frostling. "I could do the entire thing, but what's the point? It's not like I'm going to get to teach it ever again. Just tell Killebrew that I'm not fucking insane and I'd like to get back to my kids, okay? "
Well, this just would not do. As much as Fourteen hated to admit it, her own skills were not well-suited to keep everyone alive. She had always been better suited to the more subtle side of things, a skillset that she was extremely proud of but also extremely aware had a time and place. (A time and place that was specifically 'before having been already kidnapped' and 'only needing to handle herself rather than a half dozen people').
Kyle was everything she was not, in this situation, and that made him by far the most perfect solution for the group's long-term survival. But not when he was... like this.
Which meant it was time for her to do what she did best... but against an ally rather than an enemy. Marie-Ange will be so disappointed in her. (She wishes that didn't bother her so much...)
"You're depressed," she stated, bluntly but not unkind. "Everyone is going to need you at your best, and this," she said gesturing around them, "isn't it."
Mentally, she reached out and started making adjustments. It wasn't even hard; he'd already let her in after all.
"I have no doubt that you'd be willing to die for anyone already, but that's not good enough. Not now, and especially not when you'd be willing to give it so meaninglessly." The line between making someone want to live and making them want to die was alarmingly narrow, 14 knew. She had danced along it many times in the past. The trick would be finding the proper leverage to activate Kyle's ruthlessness and instinct to survive and protect. They would all need it in the near future.
"If you're going to get out of this, you need to be willing to kill. If that was the only option to keep someone safe, could you kill for them?" The question helped her find the answer in his head.
With some clever tweaks, she ensured the answer would be 'yes'.
He may never forgive her for this, but that was fine. As long as she was alive to not be forgiven, the rest could be worked around.
The image of the red-haired woman flashed again in Kyle's mind. What would you do for her? Would you kill?
"What?" Kyle's astral form lagged behind the dual responses. "What? Say that part again?"
"Could you kill for them? Could you kill for her? What would you do for her? Who would you kill for her? For us?"
The astral landscape bled away, tree and grass sloughing into black and red smears as Kyle forced himself alert with clumsy mental shields that were full of sound and fury and could protect him from nothing. He sat up weighed down by pain and grief and muscle again. Killebrew had stepped outside the door. One of the Frosts had left. The other stood in the doorway of the cell with her hands clasped behind her back, head cocked like a little bird.
Perhaps she'd expected words. Articulate rage, words penned with the direst cruelty. Instead, the blonde was gifted a hoarse croak and claws like keen knives, slashing across her gut. Thick blood welled out of the wound.
and Kyle fell in a clatter, one last time stunned by the shock baton that Dr Killebrew wielded like a sword.
And makes sure his mental state is also adjusted accordingly.
TW: Violence, Gore, Medical Experimentation, Indoctrination, Suicidal Ideation
The room that Kyle woke up in was indistinguishable from the one he'd first come to consciousness in after being abducted. Sterile, impersonal, and all too quiet.
The last three times he'd woken up he hadn't been sure if he'd been tased again. Stun baton'd. Maybe a fucking shock collar or something. His hands burned, the nerves in his lower back were on fire, his legs twitched automatically. He'd shift and groan or let out a pathetic whimper and try to push himself up. The last time, he'd gotten a cool, dry hand on the back of his neck and Dr Killebrew's calm voice.
"Easy now, Mister Gibney. You're doing very well. You need to rest, though. Let your body do what it was made to do."
And then relief, muscles relaxed, pain sliding off his bones like snowmelt, and everything would go dark and slippery.
The time, the burning was limited to his fingertips, toes, tongue, the room was silent, he couldn't smell anyone so he rolled on his side, pulled his knees to his chest. Braved the sick feeling in his gut long enough to look down - scrub pants again. There were healing scars everywhere - perfect lines from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, down the backs of his hands, and curved lines over his ribs. Absolutely precise, almost machined and still pink and angry.
It took so much energy just to sit up. His arms, his shoulders, his abdominal muscles fought back. The wall was cool and smooth and he let his head fall back against it with a muffled clank, and slowly brought one hand up to his head. Fuck, again with the buzzcut. Could they just let him fucking keep his hair, no, of course fucking not.
No bite guard, no restraints, no muzzle this time. Kyle rested against the wall, breathing heavily until his heartrate slowed down again, and then tested standing. One long heavy leg down on the floor, the other, push up against the cot, and fight the wave of nausea and vertigo as his sense of balance fought against the extra weight. Up, moving, a few steps to the toilet and sink. The sink worked - and he cupped his hands and drank - and spat blood, and drank again and spat again, until he stopped tasting iron and acid and the water came back out of his mouth clear, and then he just drank until he didn't feel like immediately vomiting.
The door opened and Killebrew walked in. "Excellent, hydration is going to be very important as you recover. Your vitals look good thus far. Let's see how the rest is doing, the things we can't measure with a machine." He snapped his fingers at the open door.
"If you snap your fingers at me again, I will make sure you find a way to lose them." Oh, that could only be one of the Frost siblings. And it was. She did not look happy to be behind him.
"The snap was for the guard, Miss Frost, I would certainly never stoop to something so gauche for you," the doctor replied with an amused smile. "Nevertheless, I would greatly appreciate it if you would ensure that Mister Gibney's mental state is also as expected."
Kyle snorted a wet little scoff of disbelief at the same time the Frost sibling did.
=
Kyle Gibney was not a complex man. His mental landscape reflected this. Rolling fields of grass and more grass and endless grass, the occasional wildflower, the even more occasional tree. In the middle, and always in the middle, regardless of movement or perception, a flattened area, one tree, a hammock and a firepit.
He was leaning against the tree, arms folded, the picture of casual relaxation if you ignored the way every muscle twitched in readiness.
Nothing around Kyle immediately changed, but there was a Shift in the air. It went from clean and warm to... wet. Not like rain, but rather humidity. The tree trunk behind Kyle darkened, the bark softening. The wind blew. The fire flickered.
"Well. That's new. Never been a swamp before." Kyle flicked something out from under his claws. "You know what's weird? The like, six times some psi has brought me here, I always have long hair." He picked through a long tangle. "I had like massive third degree burns one time and no hair, and in here, still this." It was windblown and down to his shoulders. "What do you think that says about my self image?"
There was an absent hum, and the odd feeling of being examined - like someone had stuck Kyle under a microscope.Then a fleeting thought of a red-haired, laughing woman flashed through his mind.
Do you miss her?
"Yeah." He leaned up against the tree, and continued to pick through the long tangle of hair, with no success. "It'd be great if she was here, right? Like. here here, not like out there here." Kyle's smile was a little dopey, until it settled into a resigned sadness. "I don't think I want her out there, but I'm not sure. I don't know what to do with the kids sometimes. "When Laura gets back she'll need somebody not me because she needs somebody she can say no to, and I dunno what's going on with Liam, he's taking so many showers." He waved at the blonde, who had her head down, long straight hair covering her face. "Don't say it, I'd know if it was that. And Jessie is.. spiraling and you..." He pointed directly at her" ... are what you are, and who knows how long I'm gonna be down.":
He let himself slide down to the ground, back still firmly against the tree trunk. "But they'd make her sad here and I'd have to hurt someone for that."
"Never took you as one for soliloquies," 14 said, appearing astrally off his shoulder. "Did nobody ever tell you that talking to yourself was a bad sign?"
Kyle let his head fall back, laughing until he coughed. "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time, and all of our yesterdays have lighted fools.."
He'd paused heavily after each sentence, words growing slower as he spoke, and ended staring off into the distance before he looked over his shoulder at the other Frostling. "I could do the entire thing, but what's the point? It's not like I'm going to get to teach it ever again. Just tell Killebrew that I'm not fucking insane and I'd like to get back to my kids, okay? "
Well, this just would not do. As much as Fourteen hated to admit it, her own skills were not well-suited to keep everyone alive. She had always been better suited to the more subtle side of things, a skillset that she was extremely proud of but also extremely aware had a time and place. (A time and place that was specifically 'before having been already kidnapped' and 'only needing to handle herself rather than a half dozen people').
Kyle was everything she was not, in this situation, and that made him by far the most perfect solution for the group's long-term survival. But not when he was... like this.
Which meant it was time for her to do what she did best... but against an ally rather than an enemy. Marie-Ange will be so disappointed in her. (She wishes that didn't bother her so much...)
"You're depressed," she stated, bluntly but not unkind. "Everyone is going to need you at your best, and this," she said gesturing around them, "isn't it."
Mentally, she reached out and started making adjustments. It wasn't even hard; he'd already let her in after all.
"I have no doubt that you'd be willing to die for anyone already, but that's not good enough. Not now, and especially not when you'd be willing to give it so meaninglessly." The line between making someone want to live and making them want to die was alarmingly narrow, 14 knew. She had danced along it many times in the past. The trick would be finding the proper leverage to activate Kyle's ruthlessness and instinct to survive and protect. They would all need it in the near future.
"If you're going to get out of this, you need to be willing to kill. If that was the only option to keep someone safe, could you kill for them?" The question helped her find the answer in his head.
With some clever tweaks, she ensured the answer would be 'yes'.
He may never forgive her for this, but that was fine. As long as she was alive to not be forgiven, the rest could be worked around.
The image of the red-haired woman flashed again in Kyle's mind. What would you do for her? Would you kill?
"What?" Kyle's astral form lagged behind the dual responses. "What? Say that part again?"
"Could you kill for them? Could you kill for her? What would you do for her? Who would you kill for her? For us?"
The astral landscape bled away, tree and grass sloughing into black and red smears as Kyle forced himself alert with clumsy mental shields that were full of sound and fury and could protect him from nothing. He sat up weighed down by pain and grief and muscle again. Killebrew had stepped outside the door. One of the Frosts had left. The other stood in the doorway of the cell with her hands clasped behind her back, head cocked like a little bird.
Perhaps she'd expected words. Articulate rage, words penned with the direst cruelty. Instead, the blonde was gifted a hoarse croak and claws like keen knives, slashing across her gut. Thick blood welled out of the wound.
and Kyle fell in a clatter, one last time stunned by the shock baton that Dr Killebrew wielded like a sword.
