The Rescue of Richie Ryan (2/7) - HL/SPN - Immortal!Dean 'Verse
Title:The Rescue of Richie Ryan (2/7)
Author: Strangevisitor7
Beta: Thanks to Pen37
Prompt: Prompt #21:Friends for crossovers100. My table is here
The rest of the Immortal!Dean 'Verse is here
Rated: PG
Fandom: HL, SPN but set in a far future that looks remarkably like the Firefly 'verse
Characters: Dean Winchester, Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan; Mentions of Chloe/Dean
Disclaimer: The characters you know and love all belong to their respective creators.
Summary: Richie has been missing for over 6 months. Duncan finally has a lead and needs Dean's help to rescue him.
Chapter Summary: Richie is a prisoner of the Alliance
Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7
Chapter 2: Lab Rat
Richie had tried to keep track of his days in this windowless cell. The faint image of tick marks lined one side of the cell but between the sleep deprivation, the starvation and most Immortals skewed sense of time, it was impossible to know how long he’d really been here. Was it the year that the tick marks suggested or only a few months, maybe it had been only days. In a fit of despair he had rubbed them all out as if he could erase the nightmare that kept him in the cell.
He spent his nights chained to a barren cot in a small room at one end of the torture chamber that others would call a medical lab. He dreaded the arrival of his tormentors. Some days they wouldn’t feed him and some days they took samples but every day they hurt him and most days they killed him. Often it seemed more for their own amusement than any practical test.
He’d lost track of all the ways that they’d killed him: shooting, stabbings, electrocution, drowning... but it was when they started harvesting his internal organs, without benefit of anesthesia, that the pain became unbearable.
In the beginning, he’d had hope. Brand, one of the low level techs, would occasionally slip him some food and offer a kind word. He had treated Richie like a human being and not a lab animal. After a particularly bad round of experimentation where they wanted to see if they could remove several internal organs at once, Brand had offered a rescue plan. If Richie gave him the name of a friend and a way to contact him, Brand would try to set things in motion.
Richie had been too delirious with the pain, and too blind with hope to see the trap. He’d let Duncan’s name slip. That was the last time he saw Brand. He was overwhelmed with despair. He couldn’t stand the thought that Duncan or Dean or any number of his friends might have been captured and even now might be in the neighboring lab.
He never told anyone else about his friends. He maintained that he was a genetic mutation and the only one of his kind. Under endless hours of death and resurrection, he did confess to them that decapitation was the only way to ensure permanent death. He hoped they would avoid challenging his admissions long enough for him to escape or get rescued. Eventually he found himself wishing they would just take his head and end the torture.
He tried to use the meditation techniques that Duncan had taught him to separate himself from the pain. It seemed to help for a little while but eventually the pain of the torture, the loss of hope for a rescue and the thought that he had betrayed his friends became too much to bear. On that day, his mind simply refused to come back.
*********************************
The door to the lab opened. “I don’t think we should tap into its brain yet.” asserted Dr. Green. He was in heated conversation with his shorter, darker companion.
“We have been taking blood and tissues samples for months,” countered Dr. Hayden. “What are we waiting for? You’ve extracted all his other internal organs and they have all grown back. The brain should do the same.” Dr. Hayden indicated the myriad of specimen jars that held all the parts that they had removed. His personal favorites were the two hearts. Forget the government’s project to create invincible soldiers; they had learned so much about general anatomy simply watching these organs re-grow.
“Do you really want to risk doing irreparable damage? There are still aspects of the genetic code that bear scrutiny. We don’t know what aspect of the brain controls the regeneration.”
“If it was telling the truth about decapitation, there might be some risk,” Hayden admitted. “But think of what we could learn if we can actually watch the neural network repair itself.”
“We are not here to improve our knowledge of anatomy per say; the government is funding this project to successfully recreate his mutation.”
“Green, are you so blinded by the dollars that they are waving that you’ve forgotten to be awed by what the specimen can do. Once we recreate the regenerative ability, we loose the opportunity to have a living subject for ourselves.” Hayden begged.
“Unlike some,” Green sent an intimidating look at his partner, “I know where my loyalties lie and it’s with the people paying the rent. Our only concern is to successfully meet the project goals and keep our funding.”
“But there is the promise of so much more.” Hayden sighed. He didn’t know why he tried. Green was a drone with no sense of wonder. Certainly not the risk taker Hayden was. He felt frustration that the Government had taken control of his research.
Green dismissed Hayden’s argument, stating firmly, “This is a one of a kind specimen. We need to keep it regenerating and that means no brain experiments.” Dr. Green had come to stand in front of the cell holding the object of their discussion.
Richie sat unblinking on his cot. He had wasted away and looked more dead than alive.
Hayden was distressed by what he saw not because he was torturing a human being but because their resource was damaged. “Damn it Green, it’s still catatonic. I told you we should feed it more, kill it less and stop with the brainwashing.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Hayden. We had to understand the limits of the mutation. We now know that some aspects of mental illness are not regenerative. Just like we know he can’t grow back appendages.”
Hayden remembered that day months ago when they were set to cut off one of the specimen’s arms. It had begged them to stop; sworn that it wouldn’t grow back. In predictable conservative fashion, Green insisted they cut off the little toe first, just to be sure. While the wound healed the toe did not return. It seemed that some amputations were permanent. They let him keep his arm.
“Still this proves my point,” insisted Hayden. “The mind is shut off but the regeneration is still in tact.” He grabbed a pulse weapon off a nearby table and shot the subject.
Without so much as a whimper, Richie fell off the cot dead but minutes later he was breathing again. “Now will you let me take a sample of his brain?”
“Fine,” Green agreed reluctantly, “But if something permanent happens, I am reporting it as your decision to the director.”
“Cheer up, Green.” Hayden smirked, “Maybe the brain tissue will be the key we’ve been looking for to reconstruct the mutation in others.” Hayden smiled and went to prep the OR.
Author: Strangevisitor7
Beta: Thanks to Pen37
Prompt: Prompt #21:Friends for crossovers100. My table is here
The rest of the Immortal!Dean 'Verse is here
Rated: PG
Fandom: HL, SPN but set in a far future that looks remarkably like the Firefly 'verse
Characters: Dean Winchester, Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan; Mentions of Chloe/Dean
Disclaimer: The characters you know and love all belong to their respective creators.
Summary: Richie has been missing for over 6 months. Duncan finally has a lead and needs Dean's help to rescue him.
Chapter Summary: Richie is a prisoner of the Alliance
Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7
Chapter 2: Lab Rat
Richie had tried to keep track of his days in this windowless cell. The faint image of tick marks lined one side of the cell but between the sleep deprivation, the starvation and most Immortals skewed sense of time, it was impossible to know how long he’d really been here. Was it the year that the tick marks suggested or only a few months, maybe it had been only days. In a fit of despair he had rubbed them all out as if he could erase the nightmare that kept him in the cell.
He spent his nights chained to a barren cot in a small room at one end of the torture chamber that others would call a medical lab. He dreaded the arrival of his tormentors. Some days they wouldn’t feed him and some days they took samples but every day they hurt him and most days they killed him. Often it seemed more for their own amusement than any practical test.
He’d lost track of all the ways that they’d killed him: shooting, stabbings, electrocution, drowning... but it was when they started harvesting his internal organs, without benefit of anesthesia, that the pain became unbearable.
In the beginning, he’d had hope. Brand, one of the low level techs, would occasionally slip him some food and offer a kind word. He had treated Richie like a human being and not a lab animal. After a particularly bad round of experimentation where they wanted to see if they could remove several internal organs at once, Brand had offered a rescue plan. If Richie gave him the name of a friend and a way to contact him, Brand would try to set things in motion.
Richie had been too delirious with the pain, and too blind with hope to see the trap. He’d let Duncan’s name slip. That was the last time he saw Brand. He was overwhelmed with despair. He couldn’t stand the thought that Duncan or Dean or any number of his friends might have been captured and even now might be in the neighboring lab.
He never told anyone else about his friends. He maintained that he was a genetic mutation and the only one of his kind. Under endless hours of death and resurrection, he did confess to them that decapitation was the only way to ensure permanent death. He hoped they would avoid challenging his admissions long enough for him to escape or get rescued. Eventually he found himself wishing they would just take his head and end the torture.
He tried to use the meditation techniques that Duncan had taught him to separate himself from the pain. It seemed to help for a little while but eventually the pain of the torture, the loss of hope for a rescue and the thought that he had betrayed his friends became too much to bear. On that day, his mind simply refused to come back.
*********************************
The door to the lab opened. “I don’t think we should tap into its brain yet.” asserted Dr. Green. He was in heated conversation with his shorter, darker companion.
“We have been taking blood and tissues samples for months,” countered Dr. Hayden. “What are we waiting for? You’ve extracted all his other internal organs and they have all grown back. The brain should do the same.” Dr. Hayden indicated the myriad of specimen jars that held all the parts that they had removed. His personal favorites were the two hearts. Forget the government’s project to create invincible soldiers; they had learned so much about general anatomy simply watching these organs re-grow.
“Do you really want to risk doing irreparable damage? There are still aspects of the genetic code that bear scrutiny. We don’t know what aspect of the brain controls the regeneration.”
“If it was telling the truth about decapitation, there might be some risk,” Hayden admitted. “But think of what we could learn if we can actually watch the neural network repair itself.”
“We are not here to improve our knowledge of anatomy per say; the government is funding this project to successfully recreate his mutation.”
“Green, are you so blinded by the dollars that they are waving that you’ve forgotten to be awed by what the specimen can do. Once we recreate the regenerative ability, we loose the opportunity to have a living subject for ourselves.” Hayden begged.
“Unlike some,” Green sent an intimidating look at his partner, “I know where my loyalties lie and it’s with the people paying the rent. Our only concern is to successfully meet the project goals and keep our funding.”
“But there is the promise of so much more.” Hayden sighed. He didn’t know why he tried. Green was a drone with no sense of wonder. Certainly not the risk taker Hayden was. He felt frustration that the Government had taken control of his research.
Green dismissed Hayden’s argument, stating firmly, “This is a one of a kind specimen. We need to keep it regenerating and that means no brain experiments.” Dr. Green had come to stand in front of the cell holding the object of their discussion.
Richie sat unblinking on his cot. He had wasted away and looked more dead than alive.
Hayden was distressed by what he saw not because he was torturing a human being but because their resource was damaged. “Damn it Green, it’s still catatonic. I told you we should feed it more, kill it less and stop with the brainwashing.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Hayden. We had to understand the limits of the mutation. We now know that some aspects of mental illness are not regenerative. Just like we know he can’t grow back appendages.”
Hayden remembered that day months ago when they were set to cut off one of the specimen’s arms. It had begged them to stop; sworn that it wouldn’t grow back. In predictable conservative fashion, Green insisted they cut off the little toe first, just to be sure. While the wound healed the toe did not return. It seemed that some amputations were permanent. They let him keep his arm.
“Still this proves my point,” insisted Hayden. “The mind is shut off but the regeneration is still in tact.” He grabbed a pulse weapon off a nearby table and shot the subject.
Without so much as a whimper, Richie fell off the cot dead but minutes later he was breathing again. “Now will you let me take a sample of his brain?”
“Fine,” Green agreed reluctantly, “But if something permanent happens, I am reporting it as your decision to the director.”
“Cheer up, Green.” Hayden smirked, “Maybe the brain tissue will be the key we’ve been looking for to reconstruct the mutation in others.” Hayden smiled and went to prep the OR.