[Sorry! Notifs utterly failed and I didn't know you replied!]
Sechs' protests meant nothing to the doctor. In reality, he cared not one bit about his so-called patient. He was a rat and he was to be tested on. If he died in the process, there were countless others he could drag up here and try the same thing on. Science was, after all, a practiced method of learning from one's failures. He'd killed how many lab rats in preparing this series of serums? Hundreds, no doubt. He'd lost count after the fifth or sixth test batch. Perfecting his work took sacrifices - and Sechs had only to hope to whatever God he believed in that he didn't become one of them.
"And who are you trying to convince with your vehemence, AR-6? Me or yourself?" The doctor walked on by Sechs, passing behind his head, allowing his shadow to cast over the prone man's form. "You're my experiment now, AR-6. The old company is gone, everything you worked for is gone. It's time to face your new mission."
Behind Sechs was a small metal rolling tray with six syringes carefully and perfectly spaced apart from one another. Each syringe had a number on it and a corresponding bottle in which a thick black sludge seemed to rest, clinging to the sides of the bottles like some living creature clawing its way through the glass. Of course, Sechs couldn't see that, but he'd definitely feel them soon enough. Rolling the entire table over, the doctor came around to Sechs' side and held the first bottle up to the light, marveling at how not a single ray was able to pierce the substance inside. He almost seemed to be speaking to himself as he said, "It's like a void. Like a little black hole, greedily eating up every bit of energy it can. Beautiful, in its own right."
Terrible in every other.
The doctor lowered the bottle and stuck the corresponding syringe inside, pulling the plunger back as it struggled to draw the sludge up into the chamber. "You shouldn't wish Hell upon others, Replica. Or you'll find yourself in the shadows of its fires just as soon."
The doctor grinned for once at his own joke and set the bottle down just where he could see it out of the corner of his eye. The liquid collected and began to slide down the glass, clumping together in thick blots like clotted paint. With one finger, the doctor tapped the syringe and nodded at the thick sound that answered him. It was settling within the tube as well, meaning it was time to deploy the first of the injections. Kneeling down, he moved behind the table and pressed two fingers against the base of Sechs' spine. "Do hold still. If you move too much, I might just paralyze you."
He waited just a moment for those words and the pressure of his hand to sink in and then he pushed the needle against Sechs' skin. It bowed and then gave way, the needle sliding in, slicing through muscle and layers of skin and fat until the doctor could feel it sliding past the bones of the spine and into the soft tissue within. His hand was steady from practice and he sighed out slightly as he was finally able to start his experiment, depressing the plunger to release the thick sludge into Sechs' system.
[It's OK! LJ notifs have failed on me before, so I know what that's like! xO]
Sechs tried to scoff at the doctor's words, but it came out as a strained wheeze instead. Who was he trying to convince? Why, the doctor of course! Sechs knew full well who he was! ...Yet, something from a dark and distant corner of Sechs' mind echoed doubt. Unfortunately, it wasn't something he never felt before. Snarling, Sechs quickly scrambled to banish his inner skepticism. "FUCK you! I don't belong to anyone!" he barked back, "I'm not taking any bullshit from you! You better cut this SHIT out now or ELSE!" Sechs glared towards the doctor's blackened form with every ounce of hatred he could muster. If only looks could kill... Forget Will and anyone else who pissed him off, the Replica wanted the doctor dead!
With the first droplets of sweat emerging upon Sechs' skin, he struggled to catch a glimpse of the doctor and whatever tools he may be brandishing, but his darting eyes could only search so much into his limited surroundings. Once the doctor moved out of Sechs' vision, the shadow he cast over the bound Replica brought a foreboding chill into his nerves. Yet it was the telltale sound of a glass syringe being prepared that sent his whole body into a rigid state of alarm. Nearly every muscle and limb tensed up within the chair as his nerves tingled at the mere suggestion of potential pain. He'd been around Desty Nova enough to know when some nasty drug was being readied...
At the doctor's foreboding words, Sechs could only reply with a guttural growl and another brutish wrench against the unrelenting bondage. Dammit! It was no good! He wasn't getting out of this anytime soon! His mind was forced to accept that no matter how much he struggled, something was going to be done to him. Was the cruel doctor planning to leave Sechs with the inability to be dishonest like Armand? Or do some twisted operation like what happened to ZEX? Who knew what other sick things had been done to Landel's prisoners? The Replica could feel his fervid brain spin from all the nightmarish possibilities in store for him; yet what caused his heart to lurch and stumble several beats was what little he could actually do about it!
Suddenly, Sechs felt the doctor's cold fingers touch his lower back, sending the former android's whole body to visibly flinch. Every nerve and muscle that was affected by the doctor's unwanted handling instantly went on high alert, narrowing Sechs' awareness towards the targeted spot on his spine. "What?!" he snapped through gritted teeth, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. Once the doctor's warning sank in, his mind began to spin with panic while his heart hammered against his ribs. "You keep that FUCKING thing away from me--!!" he roared, but his enraged words were cut off by the sharp sting of the needle making its first entry into his skin.
Sechs loudly gave out an afflicted growl. If the Replica hadn't been thrashing enough against his bonds, he certainly was now. He fought to arch his back away from the horrendous needle, but the straps and cuffs proved to play their restrictive parts perfectly against their captive. All he could do was squirm more forcefully against the chair's hold while his pained snarling fluctuated into agonized hollers once the syringe began to burrow into his very spine.
To his horror, Sechs then felt a series of sensations that no organic being or even cyborg should ever feel. The sickening crunch of bone being bored through was awful enough as it is, but what followed the needle's complete insertion into his spine was the stuff of nightmares!
It was like some disgustingly thick fluid was being slowly pumped into his spine. Along with the unbelievable pain of experiencing metal digging into his back, there was the horrific coldness that greedily seeped into his tissue. The panicked Replica had few words to describe the intrusive drug; only that it was a lurid and impossibly icy fluid that seemed laden with darkness. Yet worst of all, it felt almost alive...
"Scream, scream, scream," the doctor muttered, clicking his tongue in disapproval. He pulled the syringe free and stepped back, capping it before disposing of it in the correct receptacle. The others would soon enough join it - ironically one for each number that Sechs claimed as his own. It was strangely appropriate that the process would take six steps. The doctor hadn't planned that at all and yet, he was morbidly satisfied that it came to this.
Turning his head to the side, the doctor called out to the recorder. "First step administered." A cold slide of metal across Sechs' back and the doctor muttered something to himself. "Subject's body is accepting the mixture with little resistance."
Now for the next one. A clink of glass and the quiet sound of the bottle's seal being punctured - not that Sechs was likely to hear all that. He was too busy panicking, screaming about something or another that the doctor merely tuned out. The second syringe was prepped and the doctor knelt, pressing two fingers a bit further up Sechs' spine. "Aren't you curious? What will be happening to you soon? Or do you still think there is something you can do about this, AR-6? Do you really think that fighting against me now will save you?"
Sechs' thrashing form went limp within the chair once the needle was finally retracted from his flesh. Eyes shut tight against the lights; Sechs gasped and heaved with pain while a trail of sweat trickled down his cheek. The spot where the needle exited throbbed while he could feel a hint of blood escape the wound and crawl down his back. Sechs' instinct's told him something terribly wrong and unnatural was brewing within him. The terrible cold did not relent. In fact, it seemed to take shape inside the bones, tissue and nerves that made up his spine. Whatever had been implanted inside was slowly but surely growing, like a monstrous weed choking out its environment...
At first Sechs thought the doctor was speaking to another stranger hiding in the darkness, but the lack of response and the doctor's professional tone left Sechs with the impression that his torturous ordeal was simply being recorded! Just the thought of being some average guinea pig in a routine experiment sent his already spinning mind reeling with rage! DAMN that sick BASTARD! Sechs fought even harder to free himself from the damned chair; this time his struggles against the tight bonds were sure to leave bruises on his limbs, but he didn't care, he wanted nothing else but out of this mess!
Yet once again his struggles were halted by the doctor's callous procedures. Feeling the metal stroke his back (which strangely didn't feel as cold as the unknown liquid settling inside his spine) forced out a shuddering gasp from the Replica. Yet as soon as the shocked release of breath escaped him, Sechs clenched his teeth together as tightly as his jaws allowed him, fighting against the rising terror his organic body was experiencing. He couldn't afford to show any weakness to his captor, not when there was still a chance at escape...! Although the far back of his mind told him that it was already too late...
Then Sechs violently twitched at the sensation of the doctor's fingers pressing farther up into his spine. "No I'm NOT!" he furiously snarled, despite being far more than just a little concerned about the drug that just invaded his body. "When I get outta this DAMN chair, you better hope I won't kill you TOO slowly--!"
Suddenly, something odd flickered in Sechs' vision, causing his threats to trail off into the shadows. For a moment there Sechs could have sworn that the lights glaring down at him had darkened. Did the doctor just adjust the lights for a moment there? Why would he do that though? Sechs blinked as the painful florescent lights returned to their original intensity. What was going on here...?!
He stopped midway through a sentence. The doctor smirked and pressed the second needle into his spine, depositing the thick mixture there. Another shot of life to his creation, his "baby" if he were feeling at all maternal toward the fruits of his labor. He'd worked hard on this; ever so hard to create the perfect combination. So many test subjects, lab rats and guinea pigs, had died when the final stage approached. The pressure of it all, the pure psychological strain often caused their brains to hemorrhage and they died shortly after the final shot.
But Sechs gave him hope. He was strong. He was a fighter.
The second syringe was capped and disposed and the doctor moved around to check Sechs' condition. Clicking on a penlight, the doctor flashed it in front of Sechs' eyes and then nodded slightly. "You won't be able to get to me, AR-6. Maybe the original might have been strong enough, but a mere replica? A replacement? Don't make me laugh."
Moving away, he prepared the third needle and called out his observations to the recorder. "Pupil dilation is slowing; skin tone, heart rate is normal." A rattle of something metallic on the tray. "Body temperature dropping as expected. Administering the third injection."
And on cue, the doctor turned, pressed his fingers further up Sechs' spine and pushed the needle through. "Experiencing some resistance, but nothing major," he said, continuing his dry observation. For science, emotion couldn't be allowed into the official report. He depressed the plunger and removed the needle, frowning slightly as it dragged against the bone. That hadn't been as clean of an injection as he'd wanted. "Slight miss on the third injection." He pressed the cold metal swatch against Sechs' back and sighed in relief. "But no damage to the experiment recorded."
Sechs gave out another cry of pain as the second syringe penetrated his spine. The agony of metal piercing through flesh and into bone was no less painful than the first injection he suffered. Once the terrible needle left its mark upon his body, Sechs found himself back to withering and gasping beneath the stern bondage. He could feel the living liquid grow in strength and form inside as it gained sustenance from the second injection. Its greedy hunger could be sensed throughout his nervous system, sending his body riveting with panic and confusion.
Another trail of sweat emerged on his face. What the hell did the doctor inject him with?! Did he use a batch of nanobots, and if so, what were they programmed to do? Were they made to modify him, to tear him apart molecule by molecule, or invade his mind and control him? Nanotechnology was the greatest blessing and curse of science; anything could be done with such power! Sechs nervously gulped at such thoughts - or at least tried to - it was then he realized that his mouth was as dry as the wastelands surrounding the Scrapyard...
The metallic click and its resulting beam of light jabbing into Sechs' eyes jerked him back out of his fervid thoughts. The Replica growled at the owner of the penlight and viciously bared his teeth at him like a caged tiger. No matter how hard he strained his eyes towards the doctor, Sechs failed to grasp any of his tormentor's facial features. Snarling, the Replica's fingers flexed and clawed the air as though desperate to wrap themselves around the doctor's neck and squeeze until blood gushed out of his twisted mouth...
His helpless state and the doctor's words acted as another blow to Sechs' crumbling fortitude. He could only snarl in response. A hint of distress entered his face as he tried to turn his head away from the loathsome voice. The doctor mentioned Alita again, leaving Sechs with a tinge of anixety... Was the institute trying to capture Alita as well? As much as Sechs hated the little bitch, he couldn't stand the idea of her being trapped here as well. How could such a powerful cyborg warrior like her survive in a human body inside a hell hole like this? ...Then again, maybe the doctor was right... Alita probably would have escaped the institute a long time ago... He himself was just too stupid to figure a way out... A mere replica indeed...
For now, the growing sense of despair lost its grip on Sechs. "Third injection?!" he blurted out with slightly more shock than anger in his voice, "How... How many damn needles do you have back there?!"
So far Sechs knew there were three of them, as another syringe barged its way into his backbone. Yet his pained shouting turned to screaming once the needle haphazardly left his back, messily scraping against his vertebrae in the process. Sechs thrashed desperately away from the agony but was firmly kept in place. If it hadn't been for how his head was held down to the chair, Sechs would have choked himself against the strap wrapped over his neck. Compared to the pain he was experiencing then, death by suffocation would have been a more comfortable way to go...
Released once more from the cruel syringe, Sechs' breaths grew laden with exhaustion as the third spot on his back ached with far more pain than the first two. Suddenly, like a brief solar eclipse, there was another flicker of darkness in Sechs' vision. This time the impossible shadow lasted a few moments longer, along with a faint, incoherent voice that sounded dreadfully familiar... The freezing cold in his back was getting worse, sending a mild tremor throughout his body as it scrambled to fight back the black mass crawling up his spine. What was going on?!
It was then that his fearful words left his mouth before his suffering pride could silence them, "Wh-what the hell are you doing to me?!"
Anger and fear mixing together to create a desperate attempt at logic, at hope, at fueling the rage which would quiet the terror of the unknown. A truly human reaction, the doctor noted, saying so into the recorder. No matter how old human science became, their greatest aim always seemed to come back to recreating something akin to themselves. As God made Man in His image, so too did Man wish to make Machine in theirs. Replicas, clones, androids, all humanoid in some aspect or another. Interesting, but hardly the real aim of this experiment.
"I have enough," the doctor said dismissively, disposing the third needle and beginning the preparations for the fourth. He could hear exhaustion creep in along the edges of Sechs' voice and could see it in his demeanor. The way his struggles seemed to be lessening in intensity, not for lack of trying, but merely because he was tiring. Moving around to the front again, the doctor noticed Sechs' eyes dart to the side and he smiled.
"So you are curious," he noted with a grin. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Just know that, should you survive the meld, even a defective clone like you can serve a higher purpose in the halls of science."
He ducked behind the chair again and pushed the fourth needle through Sechs' skin into his spine. He was more than halfway up to the neck now, and this was likely more painful, but he hardly cared. He was so close to completing his experiment. So close...
The doctor just kept on talking, his tone all the more causal and heartless in the face of Sechs' torment. He growled out curses at the doctor's murky form, snarling at him to stop talking to his damn recorder. He wasn't some mindless, unfeeling creature with no awareness of being used! He may have come into the world by unnatural circumstance, but he deserved just as much acknowledgment and respect as any other person, even his Original! He knew he was entitled to such a right, he needed it! Yet like the shrieks of tortured lab rats, his demands went unheeded by the doctor.
Sechs strained his yellow eyes towards the unnerving smile that hovered within the darkness above him. Despite the agony and humiliation he was experiencing, Sechs' determination to survive managed to flicker through the oppressive darkness. "...You'll never break me...!" he hissed through heavy breaths. "I have my own purpose. One that I chose myself, and I won't let you take it away from me...!"
The doctor retreated back behind the chair once again. Knowing that another injection was sure to come, the Replica's body tensed and trembled in exhausted desperation. He had to hold on! Persevere even when all seemed lost. That was one quality of a true warrior, right?
The fourth needle drove into the upper part of his spinal column; the injections were fast approaching his neck while the freezing substance gained ground inside his struggling system. He couldn't give in to the pain, his body's cries for the agony to stop; a powerful warrior never begged for mercy, even when such relief was far due. Yet the icy tip of the syringe drove out a single word amongst his bestial wails. "NO!!"
The darkness was closing in on Sechs, threatening to choke his vision and even his mind. The faint echoing voice he heard earlier grew to be a harsh whisper whose location was as indistinct as the shadows surrounding him. Ice seemed to envelope most of his back, sending an uncontrollable shiver throughout every limb and sinew of his body. He clamped his jaws together to keep them from loudly chattering, nearly biting his own tongue off in his efforts to repress his weaknesses.
Sechs always wielded near perfect control of his past cyborg bodies, but he was now trapped in an organic one that was under siege by an unknown poison. Everything was spinning out of his control! His mind hopelessly raced in circles for answers. When was this torture going to end? More importantly, how long could Sechs himself last?
"Purpose, choice?" The doctor laughed and discarded the fourth needle the same way as the others. Best to tidy up the tray as well, he thought, and clink clink clink clink the four used glass bottles fell into the waste bin as well. Hazardous waste should be disposed of properly after all. "What purpose do you have here, AR-6? What choices do you have? Nothing but what we've given you."
The doctor felt his own pride swell at that statement and he smirked, preparing the fifth needle. There was no way he couldn't be feeling the effects by now. The way the man's eyes darted to the corners of the room, the shakes and tremors he was experiencing were classic signs that his darling experiment was progressing perfectly. Just as expected, just as intended.
"You're still the same lab rat running circles like always. It's just a different maze now. We don't need to break you, Clone. You're already broken to fit the mould," he said, his voice hissing out the last words with arrogant self-satisfaction. Now all that remained was to see how his experiment ran in a humanoid test subject. "And soon enough, you won't even be unique anymore. Not that you ever were. A copy is a copy and making another print off that is simple. It's like..."
He paused and shoved the needle harshly into Sechs' back, releasing the second to last of the fluid that would sustain his growing child. "...like making a shadow copy of a person. Turn on a light and there they are pressed in black against the wall. So simple."
The syringe was dislodged just as roughly from Sechs' back and the doctor capped it, tossing it into the bin. "Now the hard thing is giving that shadow substance, to make that complete copy real. Or...that's what my colleagues thought. A replica of a replica - I wonder which will win."
Sechs cringed with each strident clatter of the needles being tossed away. He wasn't sure how much he could take of this anymore. The Replica was desperate to block out the scientist's merciless words, to lift his hands and clamp them firmly over his ears. Yet the Replica could do absolutely nothing to stop the physical and mental torture. "NO! Sh-SHUT UP!! You're FULL of it! You hear me?! FULL OF IT!!" he shouted, hoping to drown out the doctor's voice, but the words kept crawling into his skull.
The fifth insertion of the drug (which was now even closer to his neck) dove in with barely a warning or care, making its impact no less agonizing than the first four. The chair's restraints continued to uphold their merciless purpose and the impossibility of escape finally dawned on Sechs' adamant will. Trapped and roaring in pain, the Replica's fingers dug deeply into the chair while his toes tensely curled inside his shoes. He had to hold on! He couldn't give in to the doctor's experiment, he just couldn't...!
Once the syringe withdrew, Sechs opened his eyes to find that his vision was blurred by something watery... Were they tears? He didn't want to know... Blinking the wetness out of his strained eyes, Sechs felt his body's trembling intensify as the heavy liquid inside his spine gorged on its newest batch of substance. The once small weed had now grown to be a massive form of vines that tied and twisted and tangled themselves throughout his back. His organic body violently rejected the drug, but was losing the fight against it. Now it was Sechs' psyche that was under attack by its hungry roots.
"Shut the hell up! I'm not a copy!" he wheezed, hell bent on fighting back despite how terribly drained he was. The doctor's taunting was like a flurry of punches that Sechs had no more energy to dodge or block anymore. As each word struck him down, all he could do was tiredly snap and snarl back while his self-doubts ganged up on him. "I don't give a damn about what you say! I'm my own self! So you can go to hell for all I care! I'm sick and tired of your bull...!"
However, what acted as one of the final punches did not come from the doctor, but from something else. The mysterious voice that seemed to faintly echo from all directions had now attained enough volume and form to be distinguishable. Yet Sechs couldn't believe it once he recognized it... The voice sounded unnervingly like his own! A sinister laugh, akin to the same, low growling tone that Sechs himself used, emerged before him like it had a life of its own.
Then there was the darkness. The creeping shadows that assaulted his vision were now taking on a discernible mass as well. Like the toxic liquid forced into his body, they wormed up from underneath the chair like thick globs of black paint dripping upwards instead of down with gravity. Slowly they grew in mass and fluidity as they surrounded the startled android. While the all too familiar voice's laughter grew louder, terror and bewilderment surged into Sechs' paling face.
If this was what Sechs thought it was... No... It couldn't be... NO! NOT AGAIN...!
"Like the death throes of a fallen beast," the doctor commented, laughing to himself a little. He turned his head toward the recorder and continued spouting off data that would mean little to the panicked clone on his table. Numbers, figures, observations for later; all things necessary if he should ever need to repeat the experiment. Something told him he wouldn't though. The way the replica went silent in the midst of his threats was unnatural and his eyes were focused on something that wasn't there.
The doctor smirked and prepared the final needle. "I see you've met your dark passenger." He tapped the syringe and moved forward, pressing the tip of the needle against the base of Sechs' neck. "Or rather, should I say, your new pilot? We'll see which he becomes soon enough. Deep breath."
And in comparison to the last injection, the doctor pushed the needle through with almost surprising gentleness. This last injection, dark as all the others, was the most important. This would lead his creation to the host's brain, and from there? Well, that would depend upon the will of the subject. "Easy..." The word was said less to the patient and more to the creature in the tube, to the last breath for his child.
The plunger descended slowly and the doctor eased the syringe out, capping it and throwing it away, along with the bottles. It was over. Taking out the metal swatch again, he pressed it against Sechs' neck and for one tense moment, said nothing.
Then, slowly, he began to laugh. "I've done it. I've done it! Now the rest is up to you, AR-6. Prove to me you're not a copy or your own replica will run the show for me. Enjoy fighting yourself for that 'control' you seemed so desperate for!" The laughter grew louder, almost deafening in the room. Moving around, the doctor shined the penlight into Sechs' eyes. He smiled and clicked the light off, including the one overhead. "Enjoy your so called choice, your control, your 'purpose' while you still can. You've at least a minute before the drug takes effect."
Moving away, the doctor picked up the disposal bin and grabbed the rolling tray. The recorder switched off and the doctor's footsteps faded into the darkness, disappearing just as the door unlocked and the straps holding Sechs in place slid away.
The darkness and its disturbing voice swiftly closed in on the Replica. He knew another injection was sure to seal his darkened fate. "No...! St-stop it...!" was all he could moan before the final needle sank into his neck. No shouts or screams left him. While his mouth was gaped with agony, only a hollowed groan escaped him.
At last, the needle withdrew and the experiment was finally over. Drained and defeated, Sechs limply sat against the straps as he listened to the doctor's laughter harmonize with the dark cackles that mimicked his own. He shut his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth in despair. He had lost the fight. Every effort he had ever made was all for nothing. He was doomed to fail from the very beginning. If he was an Original instead of some Replica, would things have worked out differently?
As the doctor made his exit, the lights went off and the binds that held Sechs so tightly finally slipped away. Yet Sechs didn't move. He only wearily slumped to the side, panting heavily as his eyes widened at the disturbing sight brewing around him. The wiggling tendrils grew as the doppelganger voice laughed on, its source followed by a murky face that materialized before him. Sechs could only wearily shake his head as the face took on familiar shapes. The metal plates connected to the cybernetic eye, the long gnashing teeth, a single yellow eye and the bold metal six on the forehead... His "dark side of the moon" had returned...
It was the same shadow that the hypnotist Whophon summoned to torment Sechs not so long ago at the Z.O.T.T. But how could he be seeing that damn... thing again?! Whophon was dead, and Sechs was sure as hell that he and the doctor were not the same man! How could the scientist's drug bring it back like this?!
"So you're still alive and kicking, huh? You little fake freak!" the shadow sneered as two blackened hands appeared above Sechs' bruised wrists. "Didn't I already tell you to do away with yourself before? Or are you just too stupid to know you've far outlived your time?!"
Suddenly the hands clamped down around Sechs' wrists. Sechs let out a gasp from the surprising chill, he tried to wrench away from the ghastly hands but they proved to be as firm as the chair's metal cuffs. Wheezing with panic, Sechs' eyes darted between the impossible apparition and his mirroring face. Was this real?!
"Just give it up already!" the shadow continued, "Let me take ya outta your misery! No one's gonna notice that you're gone!"
"Maybe he's right..." Sechs thought as familiar faces flashed through his mind. Would anyone he knew notice his disappearance? Alita probably would have been glad to be rid of an annoying copy like him. No one else gave much of a damn about him either, not that he ever cared about that before. ...But then what about the people he got to know here at Landel's?
"Forget them! No one here cares about a scumbag like you either!" the dark voice interrupted Sechs' thoughts with a snap. The cruel mask leaned in closer to Sechs while the twisted hands dug deeper into his skin. "Don't bother fighting me! You can't kill a part of yourself without destroying your very being, remember?"
Then it all dawned on him. All of Sechs' efforts to be unique had just been trampled by the doctor's cruelty; he had no more reason to bother with his undeserved life anymore. He was nothing but a weak copy! Sechs wanted out of this agonizing darkness and back into the peaceful unconsciousness he rested in before waking up to this nightmare... He was so tired...
Yet before Sechs gave himself up to his shadow, a new face appeared in his mind. Pale skin, white hair, pointed ears and eyes that glowed with warm compassion. Kibitoshin! "There's no way you're worthless. No way..." echoed the Kaioshin.
Just that small memory was all his warrior spirit needed to fight back. "NO!!" Sechs cried out as he made one last struggle. "I WON'T LET YOU TAKE ME!" With his last ounce of strength, Sechs tore his arms away from his shadow's steely clutches. Once freed, the Replica finally gave in to his exhaustion and passed out on the chair.
Meanwhile, the shadow cackled as it faded off into the darkness, leaving the Replica in peace -- for now...
ZEX felt a chill when he entered the room, glimpses he caught of the equipment inside bringing back all too recent memories. His hallucinations definitely weren't helping, giving him the illusion of motion all around him, and he looked back at Donna, almost so he wouldn't have to look at the room around him anymore. It looked too familiar.
"Do you see anything?" Her eyesight might be better in the dark, and ZEX tried to suppress a shudder. Memories of what had happened to him were rising up quickly and it was difficult to fight them back. His difficulties discerning reality from the lies the Institute constantly fed him weren't making this much easier for him. He could see that shadowy form, feel the restraints, that buzzing as he cut through his skull, and he felt sick and it hurt all over again, like he was there again and trapped, and...
ZEX shut his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, squeezing in an effort to refocus his thoughts. This was not the time... if this was indeed one of those rooms, then that meant that there might be someone inside that needed his help. He had to focus, but his human mind wasn't giving him an easy time of it.
"Just... give me a moment..." A bit labored as he struggled to fight back his flashback. "Go on ahead..."
Donna was surprised when Zex made the first move, but hoped it meant he was feeling more confident now. She followed in after, saying a hushed, "Not yet" to his question since it was pretty dark there, even with the light. She'd been about to flash her torch around for a better view when she noticed Zex acting strangely again. "Hey, you all right?"
His words said otherwise and although he wanted her to continue, concern had Donna staying back with him instead. "I'm not just gunna leave you, silly," she scolded him, giving his back a rub in hopes that it might help.
Weakened and unconscious, the Replica sat limply on the tainted chair for a long time that never seemed enough to quench his fatigue. Yet slowly, a new set of sounds and lights pulled him from the shadows of his mind and back to the pitch black of the room. Some people had arrived, but who? Sechs' mind was too delirious from exhaustion to think of the strangers as anything but good news. He ordered his muscles to move, but every limb, particularly his back, felt as heavy as lead.
Meanwhile, the dark side of Sechs' psyche kept a distance, deciding to take advantage of the situation and toy with its vulnerable host, making itself known only through a faint but powerful thought.
"Well whaddya know? Looks like our good doctor just called in for the garbage disposal team!" the voice chuckled in Sechs' head, "Too bad it had to happen now, the Deckmen back at the Scrapyard factory would have been more than happy to do that job a long time ago!"
Sechs winced at the thought. Was that true? Had Sechs' time finally come? What was left of his adrenaline flashed through his system, but his body just couldn't fight anymore. Groaning, the defeated Replica weakly lifted his head up from his shoulder and peered towards the beam of lights and their unknown users.
"Who... Who's there?!" he called out to the strangers, only to hear his voice croak out as an incoherent grunt instead.
ZEX didn't really want to get into the details of what had happened to him, or why this room bothered him... he needed to support himself in times of duress. Years alone had taught him that that was the only option, and relying on a human didn't seem fair to them.
Although he did like being touched.
"I'm alright." ZEX could make out some kind of motion in the dark, no doubt his mind playing tricks on him again. "I just feel like I've been here before..."
He stiffened when he heard something in the dark, something that definitely hadn't come from one of his hallucinations. Someone, or something, was there!
"Did you hear that?" ZEX took a few steps towards the sound. "Hello? Who's there?" A moment. "Sechs, is that you?" He hoped it wasn't... maybe Sechs had just been otherwise occupied that night and hadn't been horribly tortured, as ZEX had been, but he doubted it. There was not a lot of mercy to be found in this place. "Sechs?"
An examining chair, much like the one he himself had been bound to not long ago, with a human sitting in it. There was nothing holding him there, but, as far as ZEX could tell, he didn't look to be in the best of shape.
Asking if he was alright would have been redundant. Looking at him brought on a cold, sinking feeling, like danger was near. No one had come for ZEX when he had suffered here; the door had not unlocked, his restraints had not gone loose. Which meant there was a reason Sechs' door had opened to let them in, and ZEX could only think of bait. For that reason, he kept his distance for now. "Sechs?"
Sechs' protests meant nothing to the doctor. In reality, he cared not one bit about his so-called patient. He was a rat and he was to be tested on. If he died in the process, there were countless others he could drag up here and try the same thing on. Science was, after all, a practiced method of learning from one's failures. He'd killed how many lab rats in preparing this series of serums? Hundreds, no doubt. He'd lost count after the fifth or sixth test batch. Perfecting his work took sacrifices - and Sechs had only to hope to whatever God he believed in that he didn't become one of them.
"And who are you trying to convince with your vehemence, AR-6? Me or yourself?" The doctor walked on by Sechs, passing behind his head, allowing his shadow to cast over the prone man's form. "You're my experiment now, AR-6. The old company is gone, everything you worked for is gone. It's time to face your new mission."
Behind Sechs was a small metal rolling tray with six syringes carefully and perfectly spaced apart from one another. Each syringe had a number on it and a corresponding bottle in which a thick black sludge seemed to rest, clinging to the sides of the bottles like some living creature clawing its way through the glass. Of course, Sechs couldn't see that, but he'd definitely feel them soon enough. Rolling the entire table over, the doctor came around to Sechs' side and held the first bottle up to the light, marveling at how not a single ray was able to pierce the substance inside. He almost seemed to be speaking to himself as he said, "It's like a void. Like a little black hole, greedily eating up every bit of energy it can. Beautiful, in its own right."
Terrible in every other.
The doctor lowered the bottle and stuck the corresponding syringe inside, pulling the plunger back as it struggled to draw the sludge up into the chamber. "You shouldn't wish Hell upon others, Replica. Or you'll find yourself in the shadows of its fires just as soon."
The doctor grinned for once at his own joke and set the bottle down just where he could see it out of the corner of his eye. The liquid collected and began to slide down the glass, clumping together in thick blots like clotted paint. With one finger, the doctor tapped the syringe and nodded at the thick sound that answered him. It was settling within the tube as well, meaning it was time to deploy the first of the injections. Kneeling down, he moved behind the table and pressed two fingers against the base of Sechs' spine. "Do hold still. If you move too much, I might just paralyze you."
He waited just a moment for those words and the pressure of his hand to sink in and then he pushed the needle against Sechs' skin. It bowed and then gave way, the needle sliding in, slicing through muscle and layers of skin and fat until the doctor could feel it sliding past the bones of the spine and into the soft tissue within. His hand was steady from practice and he sighed out slightly as he was finally able to start his experiment, depressing the plunger to release the thick sludge into Sechs' system.
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Sechs tried to scoff at the doctor's words, but it came out as a strained wheeze instead. Who was he trying to convince? Why, the doctor of course! Sechs knew full well who he was! ...Yet, something from a dark and distant corner of Sechs' mind echoed doubt. Unfortunately, it wasn't something he never felt before. Snarling, Sechs quickly scrambled to banish his inner skepticism. "FUCK you! I don't belong to anyone!" he barked back, "I'm not taking any bullshit from you! You better cut this SHIT out now or ELSE!" Sechs glared towards the doctor's blackened form with every ounce of hatred he could muster. If only looks could kill... Forget Will and anyone else who pissed him off, the Replica wanted the doctor dead!
With the first droplets of sweat emerging upon Sechs' skin, he struggled to catch a glimpse of the doctor and whatever tools he may be brandishing, but his darting eyes could only search so much into his limited surroundings. Once the doctor moved out of Sechs' vision, the shadow he cast over the bound Replica brought a foreboding chill into his nerves. Yet it was the telltale sound of a glass syringe being prepared that sent his whole body into a rigid state of alarm. Nearly every muscle and limb tensed up within the chair as his nerves tingled at the mere suggestion of potential pain. He'd been around Desty Nova enough to know when some nasty drug was being readied...
At the doctor's foreboding words, Sechs could only reply with a guttural growl and another brutish wrench against the unrelenting bondage. Dammit! It was no good! He wasn't getting out of this anytime soon! His mind was forced to accept that no matter how much he struggled, something was going to be done to him. Was the cruel doctor planning to leave Sechs with the inability to be dishonest like Armand? Or do some twisted operation like what happened to ZEX? Who knew what other sick things had been done to Landel's prisoners? The Replica could feel his fervid brain spin from all the nightmarish possibilities in store for him; yet what caused his heart to lurch and stumble several beats was what little he could actually do about it!
Suddenly, Sechs felt the doctor's cold fingers touch his lower back, sending the former android's whole body to visibly flinch. Every nerve and muscle that was affected by the doctor's unwanted handling instantly went on high alert, narrowing Sechs' awareness towards the targeted spot on his spine. "What?!" he snapped through gritted teeth, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. Once the doctor's warning sank in, his mind began to spin with panic while his heart hammered against his ribs. "You keep that FUCKING thing away from me--!!" he roared, but his enraged words were cut off by the sharp sting of the needle making its first entry into his skin.
Sechs loudly gave out an afflicted growl. If the Replica hadn't been thrashing enough against his bonds, he certainly was now. He fought to arch his back away from the horrendous needle, but the straps and cuffs proved to play their restrictive parts perfectly against their captive. All he could do was squirm more forcefully against the chair's hold while his pained snarling fluctuated into agonized hollers once the syringe began to burrow into his very spine.
To his horror, Sechs then felt a series of sensations that no organic being or even cyborg should ever feel. The sickening crunch of bone being bored through was awful enough as it is, but what followed the needle's complete insertion into his spine was the stuff of nightmares!
It was like some disgustingly thick fluid was being slowly pumped into his spine. Along with the unbelievable pain of experiencing metal digging into his back, there was the horrific coldness that greedily seeped into his tissue. The panicked Replica had few words to describe the intrusive drug; only that it was a lurid and impossibly icy fluid that seemed laden with darkness. Yet worst of all, it felt almost alive...
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Turning his head to the side, the doctor called out to the recorder. "First step administered." A cold slide of metal across Sechs' back and the doctor muttered something to himself. "Subject's body is accepting the mixture with little resistance."
Now for the next one. A clink of glass and the quiet sound of the bottle's seal being punctured - not that Sechs was likely to hear all that. He was too busy panicking, screaming about something or another that the doctor merely tuned out. The second syringe was prepped and the doctor knelt, pressing two fingers a bit further up Sechs' spine. "Aren't you curious? What will be happening to you soon? Or do you still think there is something you can do about this, AR-6? Do you really think that fighting against me now will save you?"
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At first Sechs thought the doctor was speaking to another stranger hiding in the darkness, but the lack of response and the doctor's professional tone left Sechs with the impression that his torturous ordeal was simply being recorded! Just the thought of being some average guinea pig in a routine experiment sent his already spinning mind reeling with rage! DAMN that sick BASTARD! Sechs fought even harder to free himself from the damned chair; this time his struggles against the tight bonds were sure to leave bruises on his limbs, but he didn't care, he wanted nothing else but out of this mess!
Yet once again his struggles were halted by the doctor's callous procedures. Feeling the metal stroke his back (which strangely didn't feel as cold as the unknown liquid settling inside his spine) forced out a shuddering gasp from the Replica. Yet as soon as the shocked release of breath escaped him, Sechs clenched his teeth together as tightly as his jaws allowed him, fighting against the rising terror his organic body was experiencing. He couldn't afford to show any weakness to his captor, not when there was still a chance at escape...! Although the far back of his mind told him that it was already too late...
Then Sechs violently twitched at the sensation of the doctor's fingers pressing farther up into his spine. "No I'm NOT!" he furiously snarled, despite being far more than just a little concerned about the drug that just invaded his body. "When I get outta this DAMN chair, you better hope I won't kill you TOO slowly--!"
Suddenly, something odd flickered in Sechs' vision, causing his threats to trail off into the shadows. For a moment there Sechs could have sworn that the lights glaring down at him had darkened. Did the doctor just adjust the lights for a moment there? Why would he do that though? Sechs blinked as the painful florescent lights returned to their original intensity. What was going on here...?!
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But Sechs gave him hope. He was strong. He was a fighter.
The second syringe was capped and disposed and the doctor moved around to check Sechs' condition. Clicking on a penlight, the doctor flashed it in front of Sechs' eyes and then nodded slightly. "You won't be able to get to me, AR-6. Maybe the original might have been strong enough, but a mere replica? A replacement? Don't make me laugh."
Moving away, he prepared the third needle and called out his observations to the recorder. "Pupil dilation is slowing; skin tone, heart rate is normal." A rattle of something metallic on the tray. "Body temperature dropping as expected. Administering the third injection."
And on cue, the doctor turned, pressed his fingers further up Sechs' spine and pushed the needle through. "Experiencing some resistance, but nothing major," he said, continuing his dry observation. For science, emotion couldn't be allowed into the official report. He depressed the plunger and removed the needle, frowning slightly as it dragged against the bone. That hadn't been as clean of an injection as he'd wanted. "Slight miss on the third injection." He pressed the cold metal swatch against Sechs' back and sighed in relief. "But no damage to the experiment recorded."
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Another trail of sweat emerged on his face. What the hell did the doctor inject him with?! Did he use a batch of nanobots, and if so, what were they programmed to do? Were they made to modify him, to tear him apart molecule by molecule, or invade his mind and control him? Nanotechnology was the greatest blessing and curse of science; anything could be done with such power! Sechs nervously gulped at such thoughts - or at least tried to - it was then he realized that his mouth was as dry as the wastelands surrounding the Scrapyard...
The metallic click and its resulting beam of light jabbing into Sechs' eyes jerked him back out of his fervid thoughts. The Replica growled at the owner of the penlight and viciously bared his teeth at him like a caged tiger. No matter how hard he strained his eyes towards the doctor, Sechs failed to grasp any of his tormentor's facial features. Snarling, the Replica's fingers flexed and clawed the air as though desperate to wrap themselves around the doctor's neck and squeeze until blood gushed out of his twisted mouth...
His helpless state and the doctor's words acted as another blow to Sechs' crumbling fortitude. He could only snarl in response. A hint of distress entered his face as he tried to turn his head away from the loathsome voice. The doctor mentioned Alita again, leaving Sechs with a tinge of anixety... Was the institute trying to capture Alita as well? As much as Sechs hated the little bitch, he couldn't stand the idea of her being trapped here as well. How could such a powerful cyborg warrior like her survive in a human body inside a hell hole like this? ...Then again, maybe the doctor was right... Alita probably would have escaped the institute a long time ago... He himself was just too stupid to figure a way out... A mere replica indeed...
For now, the growing sense of despair lost its grip on Sechs. "Third injection?!" he blurted out with slightly more shock than anger in his voice, "How... How many damn needles do you have back there?!"
So far Sechs knew there were three of them, as another syringe barged its way into his backbone. Yet his pained shouting turned to screaming once the needle haphazardly left his back, messily scraping against his vertebrae in the process. Sechs thrashed desperately away from the agony but was firmly kept in place. If it hadn't been for how his head was held down to the chair, Sechs would have choked himself against the strap wrapped over his neck. Compared to the pain he was experiencing then, death by suffocation would have been a more comfortable way to go...
Released once more from the cruel syringe, Sechs' breaths grew laden with exhaustion as the third spot on his back ached with far more pain than the first two. Suddenly, like a brief solar eclipse, there was another flicker of darkness in Sechs' vision. This time the impossible shadow lasted a few moments longer, along with a faint, incoherent voice that sounded dreadfully familiar... The freezing cold in his back was getting worse, sending a mild tremor throughout his body as it scrambled to fight back the black mass crawling up his spine. What was going on?!
It was then that his fearful words left his mouth before his suffering pride could silence them, "Wh-what the hell are you doing to me?!"
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"I have enough," the doctor said dismissively, disposing the third needle and beginning the preparations for the fourth. He could hear exhaustion creep in along the edges of Sechs' voice and could see it in his demeanor. The way his struggles seemed to be lessening in intensity, not for lack of trying, but merely because he was tiring. Moving around to the front again, the doctor noticed Sechs' eyes dart to the side and he smiled.
"So you are curious," he noted with a grin. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Just know that, should you survive the meld, even a defective clone like you can serve a higher purpose in the halls of science."
He ducked behind the chair again and pushed the fourth needle through Sechs' skin into his spine. He was more than halfway up to the neck now, and this was likely more painful, but he hardly cared. He was so close to completing his experiment. So close...
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Sechs strained his yellow eyes towards the unnerving smile that hovered within the darkness above him. Despite the agony and humiliation he was experiencing, Sechs' determination to survive managed to flicker through the oppressive darkness. "...You'll never break me...!" he hissed through heavy breaths. "I have my own purpose. One that I chose myself, and I won't let you take it away from me...!"
The doctor retreated back behind the chair once again. Knowing that another injection was sure to come, the Replica's body tensed and trembled in exhausted desperation. He had to hold on! Persevere even when all seemed lost. That was one quality of a true warrior, right?
The fourth needle drove into the upper part of his spinal column; the injections were fast approaching his neck while the freezing substance gained ground inside his struggling system. He couldn't give in to the pain, his body's cries for the agony to stop; a powerful warrior never begged for mercy, even when such relief was far due. Yet the icy tip of the syringe drove out a single word amongst his bestial wails. "NO!!"
The darkness was closing in on Sechs, threatening to choke his vision and even his mind. The faint echoing voice he heard earlier grew to be a harsh whisper whose location was as indistinct as the shadows surrounding him. Ice seemed to envelope most of his back, sending an uncontrollable shiver throughout every limb and sinew of his body. He clamped his jaws together to keep them from loudly chattering, nearly biting his own tongue off in his efforts to repress his weaknesses.
Sechs always wielded near perfect control of his past cyborg bodies, but he was now trapped in an organic one that was under siege by an unknown poison. Everything was spinning out of his control! His mind hopelessly raced in circles for answers. When was this torture going to end? More importantly, how long could Sechs himself last?
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The doctor felt his own pride swell at that statement and he smirked, preparing the fifth needle. There was no way he couldn't be feeling the effects by now. The way the man's eyes darted to the corners of the room, the shakes and tremors he was experiencing were classic signs that his darling experiment was progressing perfectly. Just as expected, just as intended.
"You're still the same lab rat running circles like always. It's just a different maze now. We don't need to break you, Clone. You're already broken to fit the mould," he said, his voice hissing out the last words with arrogant self-satisfaction. Now all that remained was to see how his experiment ran in a humanoid test subject. "And soon enough, you won't even be unique anymore. Not that you ever were. A copy is a copy and making another print off that is simple. It's like..."
He paused and shoved the needle harshly into Sechs' back, releasing the second to last of the fluid that would sustain his growing child. "...like making a shadow copy of a person. Turn on a light and there they are pressed in black against the wall. So simple."
The syringe was dislodged just as roughly from Sechs' back and the doctor capped it, tossing it into the bin. "Now the hard thing is giving that shadow substance, to make that complete copy real. Or...that's what my colleagues thought. A replica of a replica - I wonder which will win."
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The fifth insertion of the drug (which was now even closer to his neck) dove in with barely a warning or care, making its impact no less agonizing than the first four. The chair's restraints continued to uphold their merciless purpose and the impossibility of escape finally dawned on Sechs' adamant will. Trapped and roaring in pain, the Replica's fingers dug deeply into the chair while his toes tensely curled inside his shoes. He had to hold on! He couldn't give in to the doctor's experiment, he just couldn't...!
Once the syringe withdrew, Sechs opened his eyes to find that his vision was blurred by something watery... Were they tears? He didn't want to know... Blinking the wetness out of his strained eyes, Sechs felt his body's trembling intensify as the heavy liquid inside his spine gorged on its newest batch of substance. The once small weed had now grown to be a massive form of vines that tied and twisted and tangled themselves throughout his back. His organic body violently rejected the drug, but was losing the fight against it. Now it was Sechs' psyche that was under attack by its hungry roots.
"Shut the hell up! I'm not a copy!" he wheezed, hell bent on fighting back despite how terribly drained he was. The doctor's taunting was like a flurry of punches that Sechs had no more energy to dodge or block anymore. As each word struck him down, all he could do was tiredly snap and snarl back while his self-doubts ganged up on him. "I don't give a damn about what you say! I'm my own self! So you can go to hell for all I care! I'm sick and tired of your bull...!"
However, what acted as one of the final punches did not come from the doctor, but from something else. The mysterious voice that seemed to faintly echo from all directions had now attained enough volume and form to be distinguishable. Yet Sechs couldn't believe it once he recognized it... The voice sounded unnervingly like his own! A sinister laugh, akin to the same, low growling tone that Sechs himself used, emerged before him like it had a life of its own.
Then there was the darkness. The creeping shadows that assaulted his vision were now taking on a discernible mass as well. Like the toxic liquid forced into his body, they wormed up from underneath the chair like thick globs of black paint dripping upwards instead of down with gravity. Slowly they grew in mass and fluidity as they surrounded the startled android. While the all too familiar voice's laughter grew louder, terror and bewilderment surged into Sechs' paling face.
If this was what Sechs thought it was... No... It couldn't be... NO! NOT AGAIN...!
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The doctor smirked and prepared the final needle. "I see you've met your dark passenger." He tapped the syringe and moved forward, pressing the tip of the needle against the base of Sechs' neck. "Or rather, should I say, your new pilot? We'll see which he becomes soon enough. Deep breath."
And in comparison to the last injection, the doctor pushed the needle through with almost surprising gentleness. This last injection, dark as all the others, was the most important. This would lead his creation to the host's brain, and from there? Well, that would depend upon the will of the subject. "Easy..." The word was said less to the patient and more to the creature in the tube, to the last breath for his child.
The plunger descended slowly and the doctor eased the syringe out, capping it and throwing it away, along with the bottles. It was over. Taking out the metal swatch again, he pressed it against Sechs' neck and for one tense moment, said nothing.
Then, slowly, he began to laugh. "I've done it. I've done it! Now the rest is up to you, AR-6. Prove to me you're not a copy or your own replica will run the show for me. Enjoy fighting yourself for that 'control' you seemed so desperate for!" The laughter grew louder, almost deafening in the room. Moving around, the doctor shined the penlight into Sechs' eyes. He smiled and clicked the light off, including the one overhead. "Enjoy your so called choice, your control, your 'purpose' while you still can. You've at least a minute before the drug takes effect."
Moving away, the doctor picked up the disposal bin and grabbed the rolling tray. The recorder switched off and the doctor's footsteps faded into the darkness, disappearing just as the door unlocked and the straps holding Sechs in place slid away.
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At last, the needle withdrew and the experiment was finally over. Drained and defeated, Sechs limply sat against the straps as he listened to the doctor's laughter harmonize with the dark cackles that mimicked his own. He shut his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth in despair. He had lost the fight. Every effort he had ever made was all for nothing. He was doomed to fail from the very beginning. If he was an Original instead of some Replica, would things have worked out differently?
As the doctor made his exit, the lights went off and the binds that held Sechs so tightly finally slipped away. Yet Sechs didn't move. He only wearily slumped to the side, panting heavily as his eyes widened at the disturbing sight brewing around him. The wiggling tendrils grew as the doppelganger voice laughed on, its source followed by a murky face that materialized before him. Sechs could only wearily shake his head as the face took on familiar shapes. The metal plates connected to the cybernetic eye, the long gnashing teeth, a single yellow eye and the bold metal six on the forehead... His "dark side of the moon" had returned...
It was the same shadow that the hypnotist Whophon summoned to torment Sechs not so long ago at the Z.O.T.T. But how could he be seeing that damn... thing again?! Whophon was dead, and Sechs was sure as hell that he and the doctor were not the same man! How could the scientist's drug bring it back like this?!
"So you're still alive and kicking, huh? You little fake freak!" the shadow sneered as two blackened hands appeared above Sechs' bruised wrists. "Didn't I already tell you to do away with yourself before? Or are you just too stupid to know you've far outlived your time?!"
Suddenly the hands clamped down around Sechs' wrists. Sechs let out a gasp from the surprising chill, he tried to wrench away from the ghastly hands but they proved to be as firm as the chair's metal cuffs. Wheezing with panic, Sechs' eyes darted between the impossible apparition and his mirroring face. Was this real?!
"Just give it up already!" the shadow continued, "Let me take ya outta your misery! No one's gonna notice that you're gone!"
"Maybe he's right..." Sechs thought as familiar faces flashed through his mind. Would anyone he knew notice his disappearance? Alita probably would have been glad to be rid of an annoying copy like him. No one else gave much of a damn about him either, not that he ever cared about that before. ...But then what about the people he got to know here at Landel's?
"Forget them! No one here cares about a scumbag like you either!" the dark voice interrupted Sechs' thoughts with a snap. The cruel mask leaned in closer to Sechs while the twisted hands dug deeper into his skin. "Don't bother fighting me! You can't kill a part of yourself without destroying your very being, remember?"
Then it all dawned on him. All of Sechs' efforts to be unique had just been trampled by the doctor's cruelty; he had no more reason to bother with his undeserved life anymore. He was nothing but a weak copy! Sechs wanted out of this agonizing darkness and back into the peaceful unconsciousness he rested in before waking up to this nightmare... He was so tired...
Yet before Sechs gave himself up to his shadow, a new face appeared in his mind. Pale skin, white hair, pointed ears and eyes that glowed with warm compassion. Kibitoshin! "There's no way you're worthless. No way..." echoed the Kaioshin.
Just that small memory was all his warrior spirit needed to fight back. "NO!!" Sechs cried out as he made one last struggle. "I WON'T LET YOU TAKE ME!" With his last ounce of strength, Sechs tore his arms away from his shadow's steely clutches. Once freed, the Replica finally gave in to his exhaustion and passed out on the chair.
Meanwhile, the shadow cackled as it faded off into the darkness, leaving the Replica in peace -- for now...
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ZEX felt a chill when he entered the room, glimpses he caught of the equipment inside bringing back all too recent memories. His hallucinations definitely weren't helping, giving him the illusion of motion all around him, and he looked back at Donna, almost so he wouldn't have to look at the room around him anymore. It looked too familiar.
"Do you see anything?" Her eyesight might be better in the dark, and ZEX tried to suppress a shudder. Memories of what had happened to him were rising up quickly and it was difficult to fight them back. His difficulties discerning reality from the lies the Institute constantly fed him weren't making this much easier for him. He could see that shadowy form, feel the restraints, that buzzing as he cut through his skull, and he felt sick and it hurt all over again, like he was there again and trapped, and...
ZEX shut his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, squeezing in an effort to refocus his thoughts. This was not the time... if this was indeed one of those rooms, then that meant that there might be someone inside that needed his help. He had to focus, but his human mind wasn't giving him an easy time of it.
"Just... give me a moment..." A bit labored as he struggled to fight back his flashback. "Go on ahead..."
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His words said otherwise and although he wanted her to continue, concern had Donna staying back with him instead. "I'm not just gunna leave you, silly," she scolded him, giving his back a rub in hopes that it might help.
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Meanwhile, the dark side of Sechs' psyche kept a distance, deciding to take advantage of the situation and toy with its vulnerable host, making itself known only through a faint but powerful thought.
"Well whaddya know? Looks like our good doctor just called in for the garbage disposal team!" the voice chuckled in Sechs' head, "Too bad it had to happen now, the Deckmen back at the Scrapyard factory would have been more than happy to do that job a long time ago!"
Sechs winced at the thought. Was that true? Had Sechs' time finally come? What was left of his adrenaline flashed through his system, but his body just couldn't fight anymore. Groaning, the defeated Replica weakly lifted his head up from his shoulder and peered towards the beam of lights and their unknown users.
"Who... Who's there?!" he called out to the strangers, only to hear his voice croak out as an incoherent grunt instead.
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Although he did like being touched.
"I'm alright." ZEX could make out some kind of motion in the dark, no doubt his mind playing tricks on him again. "I just feel like I've been here before..."
He stiffened when he heard something in the dark, something that definitely hadn't come from one of his hallucinations. Someone, or something, was there!
"Did you hear that?" ZEX took a few steps towards the sound. "Hello? Who's there?" A moment. "Sechs, is that you?" He hoped it wasn't... maybe Sechs had just been otherwise occupied that night and hadn't been horribly tortured, as ZEX had been, but he doubted it. There was not a lot of mercy to be found in this place. "Sechs?"
An examining chair, much like the one he himself had been bound to not long ago, with a human sitting in it. There was nothing holding him there, but, as far as ZEX could tell, he didn't look to be in the best of shape.
Asking if he was alright would have been redundant. Looking at him brought on a cold, sinking feeling, like danger was near. No one had come for ZEX when he had suffered here; the door had not unlocked, his restraints had not gone loose. Which meant there was a reason Sechs' door had opened to let them in, and ZEX could only think of bait. For that reason, he kept his distance for now. "Sechs?"
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