There was a sudden jolt as something akin to awareness broke through the thick black that was currently muddling Matt's head. His eyes fluttered as his breathing started to speed up; he felt like he was swimming for just a moment before everything came crashing back to him. He remembered starting dinner with Claude, and then soldiers and an orderly grabbing him right from his room - again.
Then nothing.
Now, though... This was something. He blinked his eyes open, but his head was still swimming from whatever they'd used to knock him out during transport upstairs. He didn't move, just sat there and tried to calm himself. It was easy to tell that he was strapped down flat on his back. It was cold and dim, whichever of those dark, sterile rooms he was trapped in down that hallway, and quiet - though there were a few distinct sounds. Metal on metal came to mind, and was that... humming?
Crap, was all he could think as that sunk in. Whoever it was that was going to be experimenting on him tonight was humming. How sick were these people
( ... )
Oho. The young man was good at controlling his rate of breath, but it wasn't just visual checks watching him. The machine to the left of the doctor flashed once, attracting the man's attention. His eyes flitted to it, watching delta waves increase in variation until they hit beta. Yes, so it was: he was happily conscious, it seemed; bright-eyed and wary. Truly superb. The man's patience was limited in waiting
( ... )
He visibly twitched when the man said his name - his real name, not his alias or some stupid moniker the good pricks of Landel's had shoved on him. It didn't feel right anymore to hear it; it was like "Mr. Jeevas" had died a long time ago, or something.
Not last week, like Matt.
He refused to look around; that would only make it harder to keep his cool, and it was obvious that he'd either given himself away somehow or there was a machine nearby monitoring his stressed vitals. Or something like that - it was getting harder and harder to keep his imagination from coming into play. After all, who knew what kind of crazy equipment Landel or Aguilar gave their midnight doctors to play with?
His lips tightened together as his brain started to work properly again, and it dawned on him that he was strapped down too firmly to really move away. Neck, waist, wrists, and ankles, all held down too tightly for me to get away... This can only mean bad things.At least Matt still had his strong sense of stating the obvious. It was similar to humor
( ... )
The man's lips cocked in a smirk. An understatement of the young man's skills was the retort given. He blinked slowly, clucking his tongue. "Now, now, Matthew. That kind of deception is beneath you. Try something more clever if you want your freedom sooner than I'll allow." As if he would provide it a minute sooner than was planned. However, if it gave cause to entertain, the doctor wouldn't argue with the attempts
( ... )
Comments 9
Then nothing.
Now, though... This was something. He blinked his eyes open, but his head was still swimming from whatever they'd used to knock him out during transport upstairs. He didn't move, just sat there and tried to calm himself. It was easy to tell that he was strapped down flat on his back. It was cold and dim, whichever of those dark, sterile rooms he was trapped in down that hallway, and quiet - though there were a few distinct sounds. Metal on metal came to mind, and was that... humming?
Crap, was all he could think as that sunk in. Whoever it was that was going to be experimenting on him tonight was humming. How sick were these people ( ... )
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Not last week, like Matt.
He refused to look around; that would only make it harder to keep his cool, and it was obvious that he'd either given himself away somehow or there was a machine nearby monitoring his stressed vitals. Or something like that - it was getting harder and harder to keep his imagination from coming into play. After all, who knew what kind of crazy equipment Landel or Aguilar gave their midnight doctors to play with?
His lips tightened together as his brain started to work properly again, and it dawned on him that he was strapped down too firmly to really move away. Neck, waist, wrists, and ankles, all held down too tightly for me to get away... This can only mean bad things.At least Matt still had his strong sense of stating the obvious. It was similar to humor ( ... )
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