Night 57: Disciplinary Room 1 (M-U for America)
All the power, all the grandeur of a nation could not compete with the absolute power of science. The strongest nation in the world was nothing more than a mortal man when clapped in the chains of science. At his peak, he could pull doors off their hinges, heft bulls like they were feather pillows, end raging wars in the matter of a few years, and yet here he was, strapped to a chair like any other of the Institute’s lab rats. Like the others, he was restrained - head, upper arms, wrists, waist, chest, upper and lower legs, ankles - by thick metal straps of the sort one would think to find in a James Bond film. The doctor thought his guest would like that so it was a sign of professional courtesy.
Unlike the other lab rats (and unlike most Bond villains), however, tonight would be a pleasant conversation rather than the usual sadistic torture to which the doctor had become accustomed. It was a welcome change of pace to sit at a table sipping tea rather than spend the evening up to his elbows in blood. This would serve as a vacation of sorts to refresh him and make the return to the blood soaked work he did all the more rewarding.
With a soft click the doctor opened the pocket watch at his side, checked the time, and glanced at his guest for the evening. Time to begin. With a decisive snap, he closed the watch and stood, reaching up to turn on the fluorescent circle lamp that hung over the table. It bathed the area in harsh white light, illuminating his guest, but not the doctor himself. Well, not all of him. The most important parts - his face and any identifying features were well concealed in darkness and the doctor smiled, sitting and leaning back in his chair with his tea as he waited for Alfred F. Jones to come about.
Unlike the other lab rats (and unlike most Bond villains), however, tonight would be a pleasant conversation rather than the usual sadistic torture to which the doctor had become accustomed. It was a welcome change of pace to sit at a table sipping tea rather than spend the evening up to his elbows in blood. This would serve as a vacation of sorts to refresh him and make the return to the blood soaked work he did all the more rewarding.
With a soft click the doctor opened the pocket watch at his side, checked the time, and glanced at his guest for the evening. Time to begin. With a decisive snap, he closed the watch and stood, reaching up to turn on the fluorescent circle lamp that hung over the table. It bathed the area in harsh white light, illuminating his guest, but not the doctor himself. Well, not all of him. The most important parts - his face and any identifying features were well concealed in darkness and the doctor smiled, sitting and leaning back in his chair with his tea as he waited for Alfred F. Jones to come about.