002 | Jet Link (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fallenstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2013-06-11 11:29 pm
fallenstar) wrote in makinglies2013-06-11 11:29 pm
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He couldn't remember what day it was anymore. He'd tried to keep track at first but, after his 3rd Tuesday he'd started to doubt and that led to loosing track and now he just didn't see what the point was. It wasn't like there was a date he had to look forward to. No, the only thing he had to look forward to was whether or not they were going to make him do their tests again.
He knew he probably ought to have tried harder to escape or something...but there just didn't seem to be a point. He didn't know where he was or what the place looked like outside the compound...and he didn't have anything to escape for. Jet hated being cooped up, but he'd been turned into a freak and he didn't have a home or a friend in the world left for him. What was the point? He was alone.
Jet buried his face in his knees, wincing when he felt the mechanics that had replaced bone shift. Even the skin under his pants wasn't real anymore. A surge of frustration and anger he had nothing to direct at overtook him and he grit his teeth as the side of his fist connected with the floor. As sick as those tests were by all rights, it was his only outlet and he'd learned to look forward to them if only for that reason. Of course...there was also the reason that he was actually good at them and the way thise scientists looked pleased made him feel useful for once in his life...which just made him disgusted with himself.
He lifted his hand to hit the floor again but his momentum died as soon as his fist was in the air. There was no point to that either. After a couple seconds, he finally uncurled himself and stood up. The room he was in was more like a cell with it's white-washed walls and single, tiny, uncomfortable, bed. And it felt more suffocating now than ever before.
He took the single step that brought him to the room's door and tested the handle. He gave a small smile to hear the click of freedom it offered him and slipped out of the confining room. The one good thing about being a good little test subject was that they didn't bother to guard the door. Not that it mattered, he knew the doors leading out of this hallway were guarded, so it wasn't like he'd actually get very far.
The hallway was as sparse and empty as he'd always seen it be whenever he was led out of the wing and he half wondered if there was any point to the rooms that were also in this hallway. Well, one way to find out. A quick exploration that involved peaking in the window of the doors and listening for any activity before looking inside, told him that the literally wasn't anything else in the rooms immediately around him.
It wasn't until he was almost at the end of the hall that he found anything of interest. At first, he'd thought there wasn't anything in that room either, it wasn't until he actually stepped inside that he heard the quiet beeping of a heart monitor. And the heart monitor wasn't the only machine in the room, there seemed to be a good half-dozen all surrounding one bed at the other end from where the teen stood. The room was dark, but his eyes adjusted enough to allow him to see the outline of a person in the bed who was, assumedly, connected to all of those machines.
Jet stood there staring, torn between moving further in to take a better look and leaving so he wasn't caught wandering around. What if the guy was conscious and tattled on him? What if he was conscious and just as lonely as Jet? He hesitated a moment longer before finally taking another step further into the room...and that was when he ran out of time.
There was a slightly panicked tone in the voice of the scientist who'd caught him and informed him he shouldn't be there. Jet had half a mind to give a sarcastic retort, but he bit it back. He was too curious about the guy in the bed and, besides, he was in enough trouble. Guards led him back to his room and he heard the door lock behind him. That was probably going to be his punishment for wandering. Just one more layer of freedom he had to watch get stripped away. Now it was just him and his thoughts again. Probably the worst company in the world, in his opinion.
He knew he probably ought to have tried harder to escape or something...but there just didn't seem to be a point. He didn't know where he was or what the place looked like outside the compound...and he didn't have anything to escape for. Jet hated being cooped up, but he'd been turned into a freak and he didn't have a home or a friend in the world left for him. What was the point? He was alone.
Jet buried his face in his knees, wincing when he felt the mechanics that had replaced bone shift. Even the skin under his pants wasn't real anymore. A surge of frustration and anger he had nothing to direct at overtook him and he grit his teeth as the side of his fist connected with the floor. As sick as those tests were by all rights, it was his only outlet and he'd learned to look forward to them if only for that reason. Of course...there was also the reason that he was actually good at them and the way thise scientists looked pleased made him feel useful for once in his life...which just made him disgusted with himself.
He lifted his hand to hit the floor again but his momentum died as soon as his fist was in the air. There was no point to that either. After a couple seconds, he finally uncurled himself and stood up. The room he was in was more like a cell with it's white-washed walls and single, tiny, uncomfortable, bed. And it felt more suffocating now than ever before.
He took the single step that brought him to the room's door and tested the handle. He gave a small smile to hear the click of freedom it offered him and slipped out of the confining room. The one good thing about being a good little test subject was that they didn't bother to guard the door. Not that it mattered, he knew the doors leading out of this hallway were guarded, so it wasn't like he'd actually get very far.
The hallway was as sparse and empty as he'd always seen it be whenever he was led out of the wing and he half wondered if there was any point to the rooms that were also in this hallway. Well, one way to find out. A quick exploration that involved peaking in the window of the doors and listening for any activity before looking inside, told him that the literally wasn't anything else in the rooms immediately around him.
It wasn't until he was almost at the end of the hall that he found anything of interest. At first, he'd thought there wasn't anything in that room either, it wasn't until he actually stepped inside that he heard the quiet beeping of a heart monitor. And the heart monitor wasn't the only machine in the room, there seemed to be a good half-dozen all surrounding one bed at the other end from where the teen stood. The room was dark, but his eyes adjusted enough to allow him to see the outline of a person in the bed who was, assumedly, connected to all of those machines.
Jet stood there staring, torn between moving further in to take a better look and leaving so he wasn't caught wandering around. What if the guy was conscious and tattled on him? What if he was conscious and just as lonely as Jet? He hesitated a moment longer before finally taking another step further into the room...and that was when he ran out of time.
There was a slightly panicked tone in the voice of the scientist who'd caught him and informed him he shouldn't be there. Jet had half a mind to give a sarcastic retort, but he bit it back. He was too curious about the guy in the bed and, besides, he was in enough trouble. Guards led him back to his room and he heard the door lock behind him. That was probably going to be his punishment for wandering. Just one more layer of freedom he had to watch get stripped away. Now it was just him and his thoughts again. Probably the worst company in the world, in his opinion.
no subject
And then he'd been shown there is a hell.
Hazy memories of bight lights, needles and tubes, wires and plugs and electric shocks assail the German as the sedation continues to wear off and he regains feeling. But it's all wrong. It's heavy and hard and every joint aches, every nerve, one after the other, begins to scream as the man floats closer to awareness, mouth tasting of cotton and copper and limbs still leaden even as his mind finally reminds him of what had happened.
He had died there, in the wreckage, collapsed over Hilda as if to shield her body from any other harm, but he'd awoken in a lab, a tube down his throat, strapped and unable to feel anything but pain. Blinding, searing pain. Men in white coats bustled about the room, like flurries of snow, clipboards and scalpels and needles all around, all poking and prodding. A bag of fluid in an IV was changed out and he'd lost consciousness again just as a saw was lowered, waiting for the moment when he was again gone from the world.
He'd hoped to not come back, yet here he is.
It's an extreme effort, but the man in the bed manages to raise his head. What he sees is ghastly. He had thought he couldn't feel his limbs correctly because of the still-fading drugs in his system but instead he finds his right arm completely missing. Gone. It doesn't feel gone, it feels to his addled mind that it should still be attached, that it is still attached and he can feel it full of pins and needles. But his eyes see only a stump, covered in clean white bandages. He can't reconcile it and the monitors start to beep and buzz and even ring a klaxon of panic as he does just that, eyes wide in shock and heart racing to a thrum.
That feels wrong too, his heart, and he brings his other hand up - gratefully still attached - to clutch at his chest only to hear a metallic clang sound through the room as his hand contacts his chest. Metal on metal. Slowly, horrified, Albert raises his hand to see. It looks like flesh, he can feel with it, but it's all wrong. There's no warmth, no life in it, just as he feels none in his chest either. What he had taken for his racing heart has no beat, only the whirring akin to a motor, barely audible over the screeching medical monitors.
The scientists and assistants that come in quell the noise find him hysterical, tugging chords and tubes from his body, tearing out the IV and pulling off sensors. He screams in German, hearing the tone of insane panic in his own voice as he wails aloud. Was hast du getan?! Was hast du mit mir gemacht?!
It takes five guards worth of reinforcements to hold him down long enough to stick him with a tranquilizer, even with only the one arm. They give him enough to knock out a bull, commenting on such as they leave him strapped to the bed, monitors reaffixed, but he remains conscious, if hazy. One doctor, short and prematurely greying, pats his shoulder in a paternal manner even as they tighten the restraints. "Keep calm, 004. We'll have you up and working soon. You were nearly dead when you were brought to me."
The tone is proud and almost familial but to the man on the bed it sounds like a threat. Only it's one he can do nothing about. And what's the point? He should be dead. He wants to be dead. He can't even work up the nerve to spit in the scientist's face. He just lets his head loll to the side and is soon once again left in darkness with only the wheezing machines for company.
He stares groggily at the arm attached to his body. He can't think of it as his. It's 004's, not Albert Heinrich's. But then, neither is most of him between neck and waist. He continues to stare, breathing slowly, mechanically, too drugged to do much else then wish the whirring motor that had replaced his heart would simply stop and grant him release.
no subject
He didn't have long to think it over though, soon scientists and guards were at his door to lead him to another one of their tests. At least he'd have something to do again. He went as boisterously as he usually did, trying to get information about the tests and their intentions in casual conversation like he usually did. He'd prefer to just threaten it out of them, but he really wasn't in a position to do so at the moment.
He soon forgot about the man in the other room as the test turned hard and he very nearly lost to the machines they'd sent at him. Close, but Jet did pull through, as always, just a little worse for wear and they threw him back in his cell with the promise that they'd fix him up later. Like usual. At least it wasn't as bad this time, he was mostly just banged up, incredibly sore, and alone once again.
The teen leaned back against the wall he'd been sitting against before, his eyes closed, when something suddenly reminded him that there was someone else nearby, someone Jet could maybe talk to. Well, if he wasn't too drugged anyway.
Then again...did it really matter if he was? It might be incredibly insane to talk to someone who couldn't hear you and by all rights didn't care, but Jet was starting to think he might be going a little insane, so why not? It was better than nothing at all.
"Hey....Can you hear me over there? Sorry I wandered into your room. Maybe I should've knocked first." He smiled a bit to himself at the stupidity of his words, but it really did feel better than sitting around in silence.
no subject
He can hear a faint voice breaking through the white expanse of his mind, empty save for the various noises of monitors, machines, and now that little voice. Asking a question. Should he bother to answer? Is there a point?
Albert turns his head to the wall from behind which he can hear the voice but says nothing.
no subject
"Look, to be honest, I don't even know if you can hear me, but I figure it's worth a shot; you're the only other person sticking around long enough to even talk to. I'm gonna guess you're a prisoner here too, another of their science experiments like me." Though, not completely like him if he was still hooked up to machines like that. Maybe they were doing something different with him.
"My name's Jet, by the way...you got one?"
no subject
But he's asking the impossible. He has no name, not anymore. What had the graying doctor called him?
"004."
His tongue feels thick in his mouth and it's hard to form the words, but he manages, despite the sounds coming out raspy and coarse. It hurts to speak, hurts to swallow, still hurts in all the places he'd expect after a crash as severe as his. It even hurts in the heart he no longer has.
Hilda...
Why couldn't he have died with her?
no subject
The name offered gives him pause and he pulls a face he knows won't be seen. "004? Huh...didn't even know there was a three. That's not the name I'm talking about, don't let them take that away too. I mean, by that thought process I'm zero zero o-er...two." It had been a recent change, one he still didn't fully understand, but he didn't really care either. He wasn't a number, so it didn't matter which number they wanted to give him. Hell, he hadn't even seen this new 001 or any of the others.
"I wonder where the other two are being held. I've never seen them taking the tests that I do, but maybe they're taking their own kind of tests somewhere else. Dunno." Now he was definitely rambling. This guy probably couldn't care less, especially if he'd given up so completely that he didn't even think of himself with his own name.
no subject
He stays quiet, not through any fear of sounding crazy but simply because he has nothing to say to a figment of his imagination.
no subject
He was silent a moment longer, just trying to think of what he should say or if he should continue talking. Well, what the hell, he was feeling a little better from it, no reason to stop really.
"I wonder if they'll make you do some sort of test too. Probably, they want to see if we can do what we're supposed to do. They'll shoot at you and see if you can fight back or even just hold your own and then they'll fix you up when they're done. At least, that's what they've been doing to me." He paused and a bitter smile twisted his lips. "At least they say they'll fix you up, really I think they look over the results they get from me and see if it's worth it. My guess is, the minute it's not worth it, that's it for me."
He winced and pulled his knees to his chest like he had earlier. "I'll admit...sometimes I wonder if that'd just be better...but I guess I'm just stubborn cause I know some of them don't think I can do the tests, so I don't want to prove them right."
no subject
He sucks in a harsh breath as he attempts to curl his hand into a fist and finds he can't quite do it, not all the way. There's something preventing it, grinding under the tendons that make up his hand. The moment he begins to wonder what it is, a knife blade pops from the side of his hand, causing him to utter a startled noise. He turns his hand over as well as he can to see in spite of the restraints.
"What are they doing here...?" He sounds disturbed and broken amidst his confusion.
no subject
His hands idly traced along his legs and back before settling on his cybernetic knees. /he knew some of that was still real and most of it was machine, but he didn't know what. "I don't know. Kidnapping people and turning them into half-robots. Cyborgs, they said. I don't know where they took you from, but I'm from New York. I guess they thought I could go missing and no one would be the wiser." Or wouldn't care like his gang. The people who he'd thought of as family. What a pipe dream. He smirked to himself, glad '004' couldn't see just how fake it was. "Guess I can't say they were wrong."
He sighed and tilted his head back against the wall, trying to think of anything else he could share about what he'd seen that could offer them some answer. "This place's got a lot of fire power available to it, some of the weapons they've thrown at me I swear I didn't even know existed. If I had to guess, I'd say this whole thing's about future wars or whatever." Like the last one wasn't bad enough or anything.
no subject
The silence stretches on again, 004 still staring at the knife protruding from his hand. If he had been working up to saying something he doesn't get to. The next sounds Jet could hear would be the cadre of medical staff re-entering the room. The same voice as before, the one who had called him 004, tells him in the same kindly voice that they'll be taking him to surgery again now, that after they're through he'll be better able to protect himself and makes some tasteless pun about arms though the laughter is mirthless.
Albert stays utterly silent as he's rolled from the room on the gurney, hoping his misery simply ends on the operating table. It would be so much simpler.
no subject
Well, at least that meant they weren't going to scrap him just yet.
He was led back to his cell and wasn't all that surprised to find an empty silence waiting for him. He laid back on the bed he barely fit on and closed his eyes. He didn't know whether to hope 004 would be back soon or to hope that some complication came up and he didn't make it, for his sake. He knew that was probably what the guy was hoping for as well and...really, he couldn't blame him.
He didn't know if it made him brave or a coward for the fact he couldn't wish for that himself, couldn't fail the tests on purpose so they'd end it for him. He'd heard both arguments and he'd switched back and forth on the matter himself. Most of the time, he would say suicide was the coward's way out...but laying there, not certain what parts of him were real and which were fake, wondering what the hell he even was anymore cause it sure wasn't human, wondering what the point of keeping it all up was, he wondered if maybe he was just too scared to do what he should've done the second he woke up here.
no subject
no subject
He listened for the scientists to leave and then some before speaking up and it was his close listening that made him catch something from the other side. He couldn't make out what it was, but he hoped it meant the guy was awake. "Hey...are you okay?" That was a dumb question, of course not, they were in this place. "What'd they do?"
no subject
"Mich töten... gefallen... lassen Sie mich..." The words are muffled, thick with anguish, but the translator works regardless.
"Kill me. Please, let me die."