[sheba also lunges for the sword - not to wield it herself but to try to get it out of reach of the prisoners - but between the tackle from one of them and luke also going for it, she doesn't manage to swipe it or even knock it away.
if anything, she just knocks heads with luke. oopsie.]
Ow, ow--!
[this is a nightmare. she's grateful piers didn't have to deal with this, but she's simultaneously annoyed that she has to. perhaps if she makes it out of here she'll ask for two slices of cake instead.
(it's funny, the sort of nonsensical thoughts that cross your mind when people are literally trying to kill you.)
anyway, she is combat trained, so although she's taken some hits and is bleeding (there is a nasty bite mark on one arm. thanks, prisoner.) she gets back to her feet, readjusts her hold on her mace, and puts herself between the prisoners and luke and dahut.]
[if you run, you'll alert more guards. if you run, you're witnesses. if you run, you're the enemy. (you already are the enemy, you always were. everyone's an enemy in this godforsaken island.)
neither sheba nor luke are able to get the sword, but one of the prisoners is. are they combat trained? what was their life before this? it's hard to say for sure the details, but they move like a murderer. that's why they were here in the first place, after all. the true dregs of society, those who get a thrill from hurting others or have lost the ability to feel remorse for it. with wild slashes, there is the full intent to get right past sheba and cut down both luke and dahut. the other prisoners in the chain get caught up, stumbling and not quite able to make it easy—but the attempt is still there. take your injuries as you like.
the others are still aiming to take sheba's mace right from her, through whatever means necessary. jenna takes the lead, dauntless. sheba will have to bash her brains in and wonder what was the point of all this was. was she trying to save them? because they sure have no interest in saving her.
it's hard to hear amidst the chaos but maybe if you have extremely good ears, there is the sound of footsteps drawing closer. calm, measured, closer still.]
[If they run, they're the enemy--and maybe, if things were just a little calmer, Luke would consider staying. He would notice those footsteps, and he would grow vicious in trying to turn the tide in their favor, formulating lies and excuses to get Dahut out of this, if nothing else. Dahut isn't like Luke, whose time is almost out already, who has yet to decide if survival is worth the loss of his love. Luke would be smart about saving him, if he could.
But the prisoner doesn't know any of this, and why would they? Even if they did know, why would they care? They slash, and Luke doesn't have the skills to avoid it. He staggers as the blade bites into his thigh.
He can't be smart about this--he can only listen to his instincts, and right now, the immediate best course of action is to get the hell away from this chaos. It's only Sheba who breaks through the panic in his mind, and he freezes, looking at her for just a second--wondering why she did this, why she's risking herself for two complete strangers. MAYBE SHE HATES STEVE THAT MUCH? Incredible. Steve, you did this.
In another life, Luke would never let her stand alone. But in this one, all he can do is struggle to stay on his feet, nodding at Dahut so they can try and book it outta here.]
Thank you-- be careful--
[He doesn't know her, but he knows what she's done for them, in this; he won't forget that.]
Anyway very funny because in another life Dahut would have dipped from this fight so fast and gone to find a vent to escape through, but he hesitates, because he's never had to leave a kind hand unthanked before.]
Wait—! Come with us!!
[Yelling at Sheba but like WHAT'S HIS ASS GOING TO DO ABOUT IT he can barely keep himself upright, especially after taking a nasty slash to the thigh that's bleeding generously. He's dimly aware of the fact that they're causing such a ruckus and in his panic, he can only really think to try dragging Luke and this girl to some side room before more guards show up, but they're broken and half-formed thoughts that take a backseat to the primary desire to get the hell away from the big tangle of dangerous people.]
Go, dummy! They'll catch up to us if someone doesn't stay to hold them off!
[and whether she likes it or not, that's her job, isn't it? she's a part of the corps. she's supposed to protect people who need protecting, since the royal guards clearly can't be trusted to do it. she may detest the institute's researchers on principle, but they're people just like the others she's sworn to protect.
so no, she will not be going with them.
the prisoners are trying to overpower her, and she can't let that happen. she wants to live. she doesn't necessarily want to live at the expense of someone else, but -
she has no intention of laying down and dying, either. she brings down her mace on anyone who gets close, not striking with enough force to kill at first. but as they keep coming, she finds she doesn't have a choice.
they won't stay down. it's kill or be killed. she knows that. she knows that, she has trained to fight if needed, and she will defend herself and the two behind her -
but without fully understanding why, she finds herself choking on a sob when jenna crumbles, and her blood stains the ground. she fights through her tears and through her injuries - even with their movements hampered as they are by the chains, the prisoners are able to land blows on her - with a single-minded determination to live, even as her heart breaks and she can't understand why.
who is this prisoner to her? why should her death hurt like this?]
the prisoner holding the sword knows that he's probably next—but he doesn't want to go down alone. he charges for both dahut and luke, arm raised high.
but someone's hand around his ankle stops him. aaron grabs onto this crazed man's ankle, holding on. he seems confused at his own actions. he's not sure why. and yet when he seeks out luke's gaze, the only word that leaves his lips is: "Go." save yourself. live on.
it is his final word before the prisoner holding the sword sinks the blade between his eyes.
it is carnage and disaster. a well-intentioned attempt at saving people who were never meant to be saved. are some perhaps fated to meet their end here? it's question to ponder as two canisters suddenly drop and roll toward the whole group, emitting a noxious gas. it fills the space, obscuring the figure that rolled it toward them. the gas rolls in their lungs, clogging their pathways uncomfortably. it's not a gentle sleep, but rather a very aggressive dragging under the veil of unconsciousness.
[THE HILARITY OF REAL 15-YEAR-OLD DAHUT TRYING TO RESCUE A TRAINED CORPS FIGHTER FROM THE MOB WHILE GERIATRIC 22-YEAR-OLD LUKE IS LIKE "THANKS BYE" IS REALLY GETTING ME
And it's not like Luke wants to leave her either, but quite frankly, he thinks her job will be easier if they're out of the damn way. But it doesn't matter much anyway, because the prisoner with the sword charges, and Luke has a split second of intense fear, his body tensing up because he may not have the same hero complex he once did but he will throw himself in front of Dahut here--but it doesn't matter, because another stranger intervenes. ...Or...?
Their eyes meet--and then, only then, does Luke get hit with that flicker of memory. Very suddenly, Luke realizes that this man once saved him. That he's important. But when? How? Who?
He doesn't have time to wonder, or to process the anguish that cuts through him just as deeply as the sword would have, watching this man die in front of him. The gas fills the hall, and Luke only has time to yell Dahut's name before the darkness ruthlessly pulls him under.]
Now they're all idiots passing out in the hall together because he's too fuckin disoriented by everything happening to even recognize what those canisters are at first, let alone react to them properly. It truly feels like a blur where he's facing a blade and then watching bodies fall and there's so much blood everywhere that all he can really think to do is turn and blindly grasp out for Luke--
But just as his fingers find purchase, the gas spews out, and he's losing what's left of his coherent thought in a matter of seconds. He bonks his head on the ground again as he falls. HIS CONCUSSIONS. Goodnight moon.]
it's hard to say how long passed while you were unconscious. when you awake, surprise surprise, now you're the ones in chains. steve and the other prisoners are long gone.
you are in... a laboratory? perhaps. perhaps it can be called that. it is dark, dreary, and filled with the stench of death. long gone are the clean tiles of the institute, replaced only with blood-stained stone and instruments that have certainly seen better days. the drug is beginning to wear off, although there is probably still this uncomfortable clogging feeling in your throat, like some residue left behind. the three of you are strapped to examination tables next to one another, all in a row. luke, dahut, sheba in order, and if you turn your heads, you might be able to catch a glance. the memories in your brain become more jumbled, foggy, and recognition might come easier.
someone in a white coat stands nearby, though their face is obscured in shadow. their voice is unfamiliar to you as they speak, something haughty and deranged about it.]
[Imagine if I suddenly grabbed the wheel and made this a hatoful CYOA
But no, they are still here on this shitty island. And. Well. Waking up strapped to a table, groggy and in pain, has never really been a good sign of anything? I DON'T THINK THEY HAVE MOVIES HERE but they don't need them for Luke to know this is bad.
At least, he'll probably know that in a second--right now he's struggling to get his bearings, his head lolling to the side. All he can really see is Dahut from this angle, but it doesn't take geniuses like them to figure out that Sheba's probably not far, either.
[IT'S JUST HATOFUL BOYFRIEND NOW. THAT'S THE WRONG OTOME.
Well, this is terrible. THEY DON'T HAVE HOLLYWOOD BLOCKBUSTER HITS LIKE SAW HERE BUT IT'S EASY TO TELL THIS ISN'T GOOD!! Through the haze and grogginess in his mind, things are a little clearer now, somehow, despite the mild brain injury he probably has. He blinks and squints, glancing over toward Luke and then toward Sheba, and then glancing around the room itself before paling just a little.
Despite his terrible physical state, he seems quick to snap awake after that surveying glance, immediately trying to pull at his restraints. BINCH.]
It doesn't matter where, or what happened. Let's live in the present. What matters is that I'd like to see what your brain chemicals have to offer me. I'm taking a bit of a departure from my research on genes, however temporary...
[as you slowly awake to greater consciousness - perhaps you'll realize then that there's also something strapped to each of your heads. a mess of wires and cables. nothing uncomfortable, no, but definitely a foreign addition to your wardrobe ensemble. what do your brainwaves have to share with the class?]
I'd like to offer you all a barter. I intend to take a look at you all as highly sought after specimens. However, I only have so many slots and space to spare. So why don't you see who you'd like to trade with?
[a flick of the switch. a few lights further down the way turn on, revealing a few sets of bodies. they're in assorted states of consciousness and unconsciousness—but even those who aren't with us in the waking world have their faces crumpled in pain.
do you remember them? do you? perhaps the flickers come in and out, of the way these people were introduced in your lives in this island, or what they meant to you before, among the stars or in distant universes. don't they mean something to you?
how much do they mean? prove it.]
Pick one person you'd like to take the place of. I'll let them go.
Or if you'd like to keep your life, so be it... though I might take you on as my assistant first.
Sometimes there is one person who means more to you than the whole entire world, someone whose memory brought you back from the brink of death in another life, because you couldn't stand the idea of never seeing her again, of never getting to tell her of your love, a love written so deeply into your soul that it transcends lives, memories, and whatever the fuck is going on here,,,
His eyes drift over the figures, and there are flickers, more and more, and it makes his head hurt, and his heart ache for reasons he can't place--or can he? He thinks there are names there, names he's spoken recently, hands he's held and the sound of laughter and the smell of corn (that's weird), but he opens his mouth to tell this freak to go to Hades because he feels a little bit like a feral, cornered animal--
--But then his eyes land on her, and this flash of memory--that's different. It feels different. Enough that his focus immediately hones in on it at the expense of everything else, and he tries hard to concentrate, to remember, to know her.
But really? He doesn't need to remember. He won't play along with this so easily.
He doesn't answer this insane question, he just starts thrashing, as if he can break free of this table through sheer, wild rage.]
[This is so funny because Dahut truly does care for both Viktor and Eunhyuk, and seeing them there makes his throat constrict in reflexive panicky fear that cuts through the lingering haze of confusion (who the hell are these other people damn), but...
Well! That's before his darting gaze lands on the familiar face and figure of his mother, clothing blood-soaked, so close and in such immediate and obvious danger. There's the woman who took him in, who gave him all the love he could ever want for, who held him through his childhood nightmares and never once let go of his hand. The mother that he would do anything for.
Luke's out here thrashing like a maniac and so is Dahut, except he's also screaming like a maniac, since he's just fifteen, but he also isn't, and there's as much fury in him as there is fear. Once again, his small and weak body is such a fucking obstacle.]
Mother! Mother—!! Let her live!!
[Not just "let her go" because he doesn't trust a bitch in this chili's which is why he's still wildly trying to worm his way out of the restraints like a man possessed. He knows better than to expect an equal, fair exchange, even though he'd be perfectly willing to trade his life for hers.]
[sheba doesn't recognize all of these people, but - she recognizes enough of them to immediately be filled with fury, and she tries to lurch forward, out of her bonds. this does not work. she only accomplishes hurting herself as she strains against them.]
You - how dare you?! Let them go!
[shouxue - she's been through enough already, hasn't she? she shouldn't be here, subject to this person's whims. and felix... he saved her life. she can't clearly remember how, but she did; she knows that to be true. she has to try to save his.]
Do whatever you want to me and my brain, I don't care! But let them go!
One each. You can only barter that much—I'd recommend making your choice sooner rather than later.
[because everyone's conditions are bound to take a turn for the worse.
luke's thrashing around like a madman—but he doesn't seem to indicate who exactly he wishes to save. him? her? another of them? rosa seems to suddenly jolt awake, as if shocked by something. she gasps. screams in pain. in her restraints she's not able to actually do anything to alleviate it, but tears well at the corners of her eyes. eunhyuk's expression twists, his own eyes flashing dark—and then rolling to the back of his head as he can only make an inhuman, garbled sound. oh.
dahut at least seems to be slightly more decisive. the shadowed scientist just tests his certainty:] Oh? Are you certain?
[some of the restraints on viktor begin to tighten. stretch. pull his limbs taut and then some, as if he's about to get ripped apart. he gasps - but only gibberish comes out. in the midst of the long string of nonsense, there are pleas. please and more time and want to live.
sheba also doesn't seem to be making a choice, and so both of the people whose lives are in her hands are waiting to suffer. shouxue's shivering increases, her teeth chattering as her lips turn blue. when she exhales, her breath shows frost and her words form in the little clouds. no, no, no... felix coughs blood suddenly—so much of it dripping down his chest and pooling on the floor. he convulses, body reacting to some unseen horror that lies beneath his skin.]
[Well if his thrashing was bad before, it's absolutely feral now--as if he's willing to break his wrist just to try and claw these restraints off, or like he might be able to wrench the table over if he struggles hard enough.
It hurts his heart beyond belief to hear those terrible sounds, to see Eunhyuk's blackened eyes, and Viktor's bent limbs, and Shouxue's frightening pallor. He knows these people. He cares about them, so deeply--there's so much he would do to save them, even if he can't quite grasp why. But none of it compares to the way Rosa's scream ignites him.]
Rosa!
[It's not exactly an answer--but it is, isn't it? It's clear from the animalistic fury what his choice is.]
[i really forgot shouxue. WELL IT'S FINE. Dahut also is hardly focused on any of the rest of these people, even though it does hurt to know his choice is condemning others, and maybe hurts even worse to have to confront this about himself time and time again. But isn't that the truth behind every choice, anyway? One path opens, another one closes. One death paves the way for another life.
Dahut is nothing if not resolute in making his choices, even as he continues to thrash.]
Yes!! [Despite the agony everyone around them is going through, his answer is swift and without hesitation, the decisive strike of a hammer.] Yes, I'm certain—! Free her and let her return to the orphanage!! No strings, no tricks—!
[OR WHAT MAN HE'S A LIL TEEN STRAPPED TO A TABLE.]
there is one brief instant where sheba can't do anything but stare in horror - but even before she's fully processed what she's seeing, she cries - ]
Felix!
[...because, in the end, he had saved her life. she had sworn to him that she wouldn't forget that, and she'd sworn to herself that someday, she would repay that debt. (even if he would tell her that there was nothing to repay.)
but it's not just that. there's - his sister, her mind is so muddled that she can't quite place her name right now, but he has a sister who has already lost so much, and she'll be devastated if he doesn't come home. (there's a brief flash of memory - of a young girl in the institute in chains, lunging at her, not stopping until her head was cracked open and her blood spilled out on the ground, and sheba briefly feels ill.) she can't take felix away from her.
and... hadn't shouxue told her, once?
how many times must i survive at the cost of someone else?!
the words echo in her mind. if she saves shouxue's life here, won't she just have to live with that guilt forever? they can die together - like they did once before.
...once before...?]
Just - just set Felix free! Let him go home safe, and healthy, and whole!
[ you've made your choices. now, will you be able to survive them?
regardless of whether you trust this faceless individual to keep their word about what will become of the people you've chosen to save—you at least know that you've done everything for them. one by one, they're released from their confines—but the ones you've forsaken continue to writhe in agony and call out in their despair, begging for a salvation that won't come.
rosa stumbles to her feet, weakened and discombobulated. she looks around for some way to fight this, to still not yet give up—but then she sees luke. and oh, she knows him. something deep in her heart, her soul, that shatters across any space or time that might keep them apart. she runs for him, calling out for him.
"Luke! Luke! I'm here, I'm—"
but it's not long before another figure cloaked in white seeks to take her away. their arms circle around her middle and she fights, she struggles because if there's anything worth resisting for than it's this. they seem to whisper something to her, sharing his choice, and the tears at the corners of her eyes spill over. from sadness? rage?
"No... No! Luke, don't do this! Don't leave me...!" sobs tear from her now, the reality of it sinking in as she will face a life without him. "I don't want to be without you....!"
similar protests spill from her lips even as she's taken away, reaching out to him—but she can't make contact. her wrist ends in a stump, and falls just short.
salome nearly collapses on the floor, but some white cloaked figures murmur softly in her ear. this is a mistake. hades hath no fury like a mother scorned. crimson stains her lips, her dress, but she spills more still by clawing at the figure closest to her and then making a mad dash for where dahut is restrained.
no matter the carnage on her, the bright blue of her irises shine with panic.
"My son! No, you can't take my son from me—Dahut! Dahut, just wait! Mother's going to come get you, Mother is...!"
but there is still more helpers, and salome is carried out by two of them. she fights and struggles and protests the whole way, crazed and causing damage to both of her keepers as she goes. her shrill shrieks carry, in symphony with rosa's.
"Again... again... you can't take everything from me again!!"
they learn, by the time they get to felix. more cloaked figures in white come to restrain him, even as he's dizzy from blood loss as he's released from his shackles. yet when he lifts his head and his eyes fall upon sheba, he still struggles against his captors.
"Sheba.... Sheba!! What are you—Sheba, why have you done this...?!"
his roar of despair fills the room, his eyes pinned on her even as he's forced steps back and out of the room.
"Just hold on—I'll find a way! I'll protect you! I'll find a way to save you, just wait...!"
but there's no time to wait, is there? science waits for no one. each of you are wheeled toward the very same places that they once were. and from there, the experiments begin. it's hard to say how much time passes. is it hours, days, weeks? all you know is that the person who's kept you there is very insane, and so very thorough. your skin peeled apart from your limbs, your craniums opened, your every organ taken apart and put back together again. for what purpose?
those you chose to neglect are there with you through it all. you watch their bodies given in first—but not before they fix each of you with those looks of betrayal. of pain. you let this happen, you chose this. you couldn't save them.
the final aches that you feel are distant and phantom-like as all the pain blends together. your limbs, being so carefully cleaned and washed, before they are sawed off one by one... what precious parts you are.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
if anything, she just knocks heads with luke. oopsie.]
Ow, ow--!
[this is a nightmare. she's grateful piers didn't have to deal with this, but she's simultaneously annoyed that she has to. perhaps if she makes it out of here she'll ask for two slices of cake instead.
(it's funny, the sort of nonsensical thoughts that cross your mind when people are literally trying to kill you.)
anyway, she is combat trained, so although she's taken some hits and is bleeding (there is a nasty bite mark on one arm. thanks, prisoner.) she gets back to her feet, readjusts her hold on her mace, and puts herself between the prisoners and luke and dahut.]
Run!
no subject
neither sheba nor luke are able to get the sword, but one of the prisoners is. are they combat trained? what was their life before this? it's hard to say for sure the details, but they move like a murderer. that's why they were here in the first place, after all. the true dregs of society, those who get a thrill from hurting others or have lost the ability to feel remorse for it. with wild slashes, there is the full intent to get right past sheba and cut down both luke and dahut. the other prisoners in the chain get caught up, stumbling and not quite able to make it easy—but the attempt is still there. take your injuries as you like.
the others are still aiming to take sheba's mace right from her, through whatever means necessary. jenna takes the lead, dauntless. sheba will have to bash her brains in and wonder what was the point of all this was. was she trying to save them? because they sure have no interest in saving her.
it's hard to hear amidst the chaos but maybe if you have extremely good ears, there is the sound of footsteps drawing closer. calm, measured, closer still.]
no subject
But the prisoner doesn't know any of this, and why would they? Even if they did know, why would they care? They slash, and Luke doesn't have the skills to avoid it. He staggers as the blade bites into his thigh.
He can't be smart about this--he can only listen to his instincts, and right now, the immediate best course of action is to get the hell away from this chaos. It's only Sheba who breaks through the panic in his mind, and he freezes, looking at her for just a second--wondering why she did this, why she's risking herself for two complete strangers. MAYBE SHE HATES STEVE THAT MUCH? Incredible. Steve, you did this.
In another life, Luke would never let her stand alone. But in this one, all he can do is struggle to stay on his feet, nodding at Dahut so they can try and book it outta here.]
Thank you-- be careful--
[He doesn't know her, but he knows what she's done for them, in this; he won't forget that.]
no subject
Anyway very funny because in another life Dahut would have dipped from this fight so fast and gone to find a vent to escape through, but he hesitates, because he's never had to leave a kind hand unthanked before.]
Wait—! Come with us!!
[Yelling at Sheba but like WHAT'S HIS ASS GOING TO DO ABOUT IT he can barely keep himself upright, especially after taking a nasty slash to the thigh that's bleeding generously. He's dimly aware of the fact that they're causing such a ruckus and in his panic, he can only really think to try dragging Luke and this girl to some side room before more guards show up, but they're broken and half-formed thoughts that take a backseat to the primary desire to get the hell away from the big tangle of dangerous people.]
no subject
[and whether she likes it or not, that's her job, isn't it? she's a part of the corps. she's supposed to protect people who need protecting, since the royal guards clearly can't be trusted to do it. she may detest the institute's researchers on principle, but they're people just like the others she's sworn to protect.
so no, she will not be going with them.
the prisoners are trying to overpower her, and she can't let that happen. she wants to live. she doesn't necessarily want to live at the expense of someone else, but -
she has no intention of laying down and dying, either. she brings down her mace on anyone who gets close, not striking with enough force to kill at first. but as they keep coming, she finds she doesn't have a choice.
they won't stay down. it's kill or be killed. she knows that. she knows that, she has trained to fight if needed, and she will defend herself and the two behind her -
but without fully understanding why, she finds herself choking on a sob when jenna crumbles, and her blood stains the ground. she fights through her tears and through her injuries - even with their movements hampered as they are by the chains, the prisoners are able to land blows on her - with a single-minded determination to live, even as her heart breaks and she can't understand why.
who is this prisoner to her? why should her death hurt like this?]
no subject
the prisoner holding the sword knows that he's probably next—but he doesn't want to go down alone. he charges for both dahut and luke, arm raised high.
but someone's hand around his ankle stops him. aaron grabs onto this crazed man's ankle, holding on. he seems confused at his own actions. he's not sure why. and yet when he seeks out luke's gaze, the only word that leaves his lips is: "Go." save yourself. live on.
it is his final word before the prisoner holding the sword sinks the blade between his eyes.
it is carnage and disaster. a well-intentioned attempt at saving people who were never meant to be saved. are some perhaps fated to meet their end here? it's question to ponder as two canisters suddenly drop and roll toward the whole group, emitting a noxious gas. it fills the space, obscuring the figure that rolled it toward them. the gas rolls in their lungs, clogging their pathways uncomfortably. it's not a gentle sleep, but rather a very aggressive dragging under the veil of unconsciousness.
maybe this'll dry your tears.]
no subject
And it's not like Luke wants to leave her either, but quite frankly, he thinks her job will be easier if they're out of the damn way. But it doesn't matter much anyway, because the prisoner with the sword charges, and Luke has a split second of intense fear, his body tensing up because he may not have the same hero complex he once did but he will throw himself in front of Dahut here--but it doesn't matter, because another stranger intervenes. ...Or...?
Their eyes meet--and then, only then, does Luke get hit with that flicker of memory. Very suddenly, Luke realizes that this man once saved him. That he's important. But when? How? Who?
He doesn't have time to wonder, or to process the anguish that cuts through him just as deeply as the sword would have, watching this man die in front of him. The gas fills the hall, and Luke only has time to yell Dahut's name before the darkness ruthlessly pulls him under.]
no subject
Now they're all idiots passing out in the hall together because he's too fuckin disoriented by everything happening to even recognize what those canisters are at first, let alone react to them properly. It truly feels like a blur where he's facing a blade and then watching bodies fall and there's so much blood everywhere that all he can really think to do is turn and blindly grasp out for Luke--
But just as his fingers find purchase, the gas spews out, and he's losing what's left of his coherent thought in a matter of seconds. He bonks his head on the ground again as he falls. HIS CONCUSSIONS. Goodnight moon.]
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no subject
it's hard to say how long passed while you were unconscious. when you awake, surprise surprise, now you're the ones in chains. steve and the other prisoners are long gone.
you are in... a laboratory? perhaps. perhaps it can be called that. it is dark, dreary, and filled with the stench of death. long gone are the clean tiles of the institute, replaced only with blood-stained stone and instruments that have certainly seen better days. the drug is beginning to wear off, although there is probably still this uncomfortable clogging feeling in your throat, like some residue left behind. the three of you are strapped to examination tables next to one another, all in a row. luke, dahut, sheba in order, and if you turn your heads, you might be able to catch a glance. the memories in your brain become more jumbled, foggy, and recognition might come easier.
someone in a white coat stands nearby, though their face is obscured in shadow. their voice is unfamiliar to you as they speak, something haughty and deranged about it.]
Coming to? Wake up, or you'll have to be woken.
no subject
But no, they are still here on this shitty island. And. Well. Waking up strapped to a table, groggy and in pain, has never really been a good sign of anything? I DON'T THINK THEY HAVE MOVIES HERE but they don't need them for Luke to know this is bad.
At least, he'll probably know that in a second--right now he's struggling to get his bearings, his head lolling to the side. All he can really see is Dahut from this angle, but it doesn't take geniuses like them to figure out that Sheba's probably not far, either.
Raspy:]
Where...?
no subject
Well, this is terrible. THEY DON'T HAVE HOLLYWOOD BLOCKBUSTER HITS LIKE SAW HERE BUT IT'S EASY TO TELL THIS ISN'T GOOD!! Through the haze and grogginess in his mind, things are a little clearer now, somehow, despite the mild brain injury he probably has. He blinks and squints, glancing over toward Luke and then toward Sheba, and then glancing around the room itself before paling just a little.
Despite his terrible physical state, he seems quick to snap awake after that surveying glance, immediately trying to pull at his restraints. BINCH.]
Are you two okay—?
[FOR NOW...]
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[well this is absolutely not great. she tries to move, and finds that she can't - which immediately fills her with panic that manifests as anger.]
What... what happened?!
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[as you slowly awake to greater consciousness - perhaps you'll realize then that there's also something strapped to each of your heads. a mess of wires and cables. nothing uncomfortable, no, but definitely a foreign addition to your wardrobe ensemble. what do your brainwaves have to share with the class?]
I'd like to offer you all a barter. I intend to take a look at you all as highly sought after specimens. However, I only have so many slots and space to spare. So why don't you see who you'd like to trade with?
[a flick of the switch. a few lights further down the way turn on, revealing a few sets of bodies. they're in assorted states of consciousness and unconsciousness—but even those who aren't with us in the waking world have their faces crumpled in pain.
one darling girl with one hand already severed. a young man whose face can't hide the pain he's in.
someone's (or everyone's?) kind mother, her holy clothes soaked in blood. a man with an already broken body, his incoherent babbling indicating a broken mind.
another young girl, shaking furiously no matter the temperature of the room. the final young man, blood already running down his forehead.
do you remember them? do you? perhaps the flickers come in and out, of the way these people were introduced in your lives in this island, or what they meant to you before, among the stars or in distant universes. don't they mean something to you?
how much do they mean? prove it.]
Pick one person you'd like to take the place of. I'll let them go.
Or if you'd like to keep your life, so be it... though I might take you on as my assistant first.
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Sometimes there is one person who means more to you than the whole entire world, someone whose memory brought you back from the brink of death in another life, because you couldn't stand the idea of never seeing her again, of never getting to tell her of your love, a love written so deeply into your soul that it transcends lives, memories, and whatever the fuck is going on here,,,
His eyes drift over the figures, and there are flickers, more and more, and it makes his head hurt, and his heart ache for reasons he can't place--or can he? He thinks there are names there, names he's spoken recently, hands he's held and the sound of laughter and the smell of corn (that's weird), but he opens his mouth to tell this freak to go to Hades because he feels a little bit like a feral, cornered animal--
--But then his eyes land on her, and this flash of memory--that's different. It feels different. Enough that his focus immediately hones in on it at the expense of everything else, and he tries hard to concentrate, to remember, to know her.
But really? He doesn't need to remember. He won't play along with this so easily.
He doesn't answer this insane question, he just starts thrashing, as if he can break free of this table through sheer, wild rage.]
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Well! That's before his darting gaze lands on the familiar face and figure of his mother, clothing blood-soaked, so close and in such immediate and obvious danger. There's the woman who took him in, who gave him all the love he could ever want for, who held him through his childhood nightmares and never once let go of his hand. The mother that he would do anything for.
Luke's out here thrashing like a maniac and so is Dahut, except he's also screaming like a maniac, since he's just fifteen, but he also isn't, and there's as much fury in him as there is fear. Once again, his small and weak body is such a fucking obstacle.]
Mother! Mother—!! Let her live!!
[Not just "let her go" because he doesn't trust a bitch in this chili's which is why he's still wildly trying to worm his way out of the restraints like a man possessed. He knows better than to expect an equal, fair exchange, even though he'd be perfectly willing to trade his life for hers.]
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You - how dare you?! Let them go!
[shouxue - she's been through enough already, hasn't she? she shouldn't be here, subject to this person's whims. and felix... he saved her life. she can't clearly remember how, but she did; she knows that to be true. she has to try to save his.]
Do whatever you want to me and my brain, I don't care! But let them go!
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One each. You can only barter that much—I'd recommend making your choice sooner rather than later.
[because everyone's conditions are bound to take a turn for the worse.
luke's thrashing around like a madman—but he doesn't seem to indicate who exactly he wishes to save. him? her? another of them? rosa seems to suddenly jolt awake, as if shocked by something. she gasps. screams in pain. in her restraints she's not able to actually do anything to alleviate it, but tears well at the corners of her eyes. eunhyuk's expression twists, his own eyes flashing dark—and then rolling to the back of his head as he can only make an inhuman, garbled sound. oh.
dahut at least seems to be slightly more decisive. the shadowed scientist just tests his certainty:] Oh? Are you certain?
[some of the restraints on viktor begin to tighten. stretch. pull his limbs taut and then some, as if he's about to get ripped apart. he gasps - but only gibberish comes out. in the midst of the long string of nonsense, there are pleas. please and more time and want to live.
sheba also doesn't seem to be making a choice, and so both of the people whose lives are in her hands are waiting to suffer. shouxue's shivering increases, her teeth chattering as her lips turn blue. when she exhales, her breath shows frost and her words form in the little clouds. no, no, no... felix coughs blood suddenly—so much of it dripping down his chest and pooling on the floor. he convulses, body reacting to some unseen horror that lies beneath his skin.]
What shall it be?
Or will you all go out together?
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It hurts his heart beyond belief to hear those terrible sounds, to see Eunhyuk's blackened eyes, and Viktor's bent limbs, and Shouxue's frightening pallor. He knows these people. He cares about them, so deeply--there's so much he would do to save them, even if he can't quite grasp why. But none of it compares to the way Rosa's scream ignites him.]
Rosa!
[It's not exactly an answer--but it is, isn't it? It's clear from the animalistic fury what his choice is.]
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Dahut is nothing if not resolute in making his choices, even as he continues to thrash.]
Yes!! [Despite the agony everyone around them is going through, his answer is swift and without hesitation, the decisive strike of a hammer.] Yes, I'm certain—! Free her and let her return to the orphanage!! No strings, no tricks—!
[OR WHAT MAN HE'S A LIL TEEN STRAPPED TO A TABLE.]
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there is one brief instant where sheba can't do anything but stare in horror - but even before she's fully processed what she's seeing, she cries - ]
Felix!
[...because, in the end, he had saved her life. she had sworn to him that she wouldn't forget that, and she'd sworn to herself that someday, she would repay that debt. (even if he would tell her that there was nothing to repay.)
but it's not just that. there's - his sister, her mind is so muddled that she can't quite place her name right now, but he has a sister who has already lost so much, and she'll be devastated if he doesn't come home. (there's a brief flash of memory - of a young girl in the institute in chains, lunging at her, not stopping until her head was cracked open and her blood spilled out on the ground, and sheba briefly feels ill.) she can't take felix away from her.
and... hadn't shouxue told her, once?
how many times must i survive at the cost of someone else?!
the words echo in her mind. if she saves shouxue's life here, won't she just have to live with that guilt forever? they can die together - like they did once before.
...once before...?]
Just - just set Felix free! Let him go home safe, and healthy, and whole!
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regardless of whether you trust this faceless individual to keep their word about what will become of the people you've chosen to save—you at least know that you've done everything for them. one by one, they're released from their confines—but the ones you've forsaken continue to writhe in agony and call out in their despair, begging for a salvation that won't come.
rosa stumbles to her feet, weakened and discombobulated. she looks around for some way to fight this, to still not yet give up—but then she sees luke. and oh, she knows him. something deep in her heart, her soul, that shatters across any space or time that might keep them apart. she runs for him, calling out for him.
"Luke! Luke! I'm here, I'm—"
but it's not long before another figure cloaked in white seeks to take her away. their arms circle around her middle and she fights, she struggles because if there's anything worth resisting for than it's this. they seem to whisper something to her, sharing his choice, and the tears at the corners of her eyes spill over. from sadness? rage?
"No... No! Luke, don't do this! Don't leave me...!" sobs tear from her now, the reality of it sinking in as she will face a life without him. "I don't want to be without you....!"
similar protests spill from her lips even as she's taken away, reaching out to him—but she can't make contact. her wrist ends in a stump, and falls just short.
salome nearly collapses on the floor, but some white cloaked figures murmur softly in her ear. this is a mistake. hades hath no fury like a mother scorned. crimson stains her lips, her dress, but she spills more still by clawing at the figure closest to her and then making a mad dash for where dahut is restrained.
no matter the carnage on her, the bright blue of her irises shine with panic.
"My son! No, you can't take my son from me—Dahut! Dahut, just wait! Mother's going to come get you, Mother is...!"
but there is still more helpers, and salome is carried out by two of them. she fights and struggles and protests the whole way, crazed and causing damage to both of her keepers as she goes. her shrill shrieks carry, in symphony with rosa's.
"Again... again... you can't take everything from me again!!"
they learn, by the time they get to felix. more cloaked figures in white come to restrain him, even as he's dizzy from blood loss as he's released from his shackles. yet when he lifts his head and his eyes fall upon sheba, he still struggles against his captors.
"Sheba.... Sheba!! What are you—Sheba, why have you done this...?!"
his roar of despair fills the room, his eyes pinned on her even as he's forced steps back and out of the room.
"Just hold on—I'll find a way! I'll protect you! I'll find a way to save you, just wait...!"
but there's no time to wait, is there? science waits for no one. each of you are wheeled toward the very same places that they once were. and from there, the experiments begin. it's hard to say how much time passes. is it hours, days, weeks? all you know is that the person who's kept you there is very insane, and so very thorough. your skin peeled apart from your limbs, your craniums opened, your every organ taken apart and put back together again. for what purpose?
those you chose to neglect are there with you through it all. you watch their bodies given in first—but not before they fix each of you with those looks of betrayal. of pain. you let this happen, you chose this. you couldn't save them.
the final aches that you feel are distant and phantom-like as all the pain blends together. your limbs, being so carefully cleaned and washed, before they are sawed off one by one... what precious parts you are.
maybe the next life will be kinder. or not. ]