Say, say, my platemate, come out and play with me.... (Complete)

[dollsy_npcs]

Characters: Red and his pokémon, the phantasms
Setting: In a SUPER-SECRET LOCATION beneath the kitchen.
Time: Night 004, turning into Day 005
Summary: Red is taken for his turn in the night's "festivities".
Warnings: HOLY SHIT, MAN, THERE'S PLOT IN THIS THAR THREAD. Also, violence done to a restrained, helpless little boy and his treasured

Comments

[adventurous_red]

He knew they were coming for him, and in the back of his mind, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Yet this knowledge still didn't stop the trainer from backing up into the far corner of the cage in a desperate attempt to avoid the phantasms. He put his Pokeballs behind him, praying that it was only he they were after.

As the creatures came closer, Red couldn't stop tears from welling up in his eyes. When they were in front of him, the tears began to fall. For the first time, he felt utterly and truly defeated.

[dollsy_npcs]

The phantasms seemed unmoved by his tears, if they even noticed them. Rather, the first simply seized him, carrying him towards the door, where a second reinforced its grip on the young boy. The one remaining in the cage gathered up all six pokéballs, and they departed, allowing the last of the four to close the door behind them.

It was a short trip to an operating room, and there they began their work. The pokéballs were all placed in a tray on the cart holding a range of surgical tools, freeing up the one phantasm to depart for the moment, returning with a pair of syringes. The other three industriously strapped Red down onto the table. It was a snug fit, with plenty of straps to restrain his movement; shins, thighs and wrists, waist and elbows, chest and upper arms, neck.... There was no head strap, however, leaving Red free to look around as he pleased.

As the phantasm bearing the syringes reappeared, another left; the first one was slid into his neck, drawing a full sample of blood from the young trainer.

[adventurous_red]

There was no struggling, only total submission. Only the occasional whimper stood as evidence that Red realized something was happening to him. When he heard his Pokeballs being collected, however, the boy's eyes grew wide with fear.

Red could only wait and see what was in store for him as he was strapped down. The restraints themselves weren't the worst he had been in - after all, the trainer had endured being frozen in ice by Team Rocket. With the straps, Red still had a bit of movement.

Though, if given a choice, the champion would have taken Team Rocket any day. At least he knew they were human.

The drawing of blood was an ordeal in itself. Red usually didn't come into contact with needles, and this one was especially intimidating. There was no preparation, just concentrated pain as the syringe pierced his neck. The procedure seemed to last excruciatingly long, and Red let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when it was over.

[dollsy_npcs]

The phantasms moved smoothly, efficiently getting down to business with their experiments; that Red offered no struggle meant he was dealt with surprisingly gently, treated with the sort of professional care one might find at a high-quality hospital or pokécenter. A cold alcohol-dipped cottonball was produced to disinfect the syringe mark as Red's blood was drawn, then put aside as a fresh syringe was pressed into the other side of Red's neck--this one, an anesthetic. The numbing solution would take effect quickly, sweeping away the pain while still allowing him some sense of touch.

That too was disinfected, and the phantasm that had gone reappeared, holding a squirming, insect-like machine in its hands. Another moved his clothing out of the way, pushing it up to expose his stomach--what they intended was probably at least partially obvious, considering that a third phantasm was readying a scalpel.

[adventurous_red]

"A--are you going to put that in my stomach?" Red asked cautiously. He already knew the answer, really; the point of the question was just to see if the phantasms would respond. The care with which they treated him surprised the young trainer--he hadn't expected them to use antiseptics and anesthetics. It almost bordered on comforting, but it wasn't enough. No, if the phantasms could talk, that would be comforting. In some way. Red didn't exactly know how, but he knew he would feel better if the creatures communicated with him. They would have some sort of connection, something the ten-year-old could hold on to.