Surgery

[animusnpcs]

Characters: Romeo, France, Ψiioniic, Germany, Kanaya, Romana, Dean
Setting: surgical suite
Monday: Romeo; Tuesday: France; Thursday: Ψiioniic; Friday: Germany & Kanaya; Saturday: Romana & Dean (and therefore forward-dated as needed)
Format: either
Summary: Special experimentation.
Warnings: extreme descriptive body horror/trauma/general unpleasantness
Note: Use your thread header! It has your character's name on it.

They all start the same. The red-collared retrieval units show up again, whether by force or not you're removed from your cell and brought to the elevator, taken deeper into the tower, emerging into a surgical suite. Wordlessly, they strap you to an operating table and inject you with a liquid the same color as your collar. It will remove pain entirely, although your nerves still work in all other respects.

There are five of them, and they're preparing various tools and machines. It's not like you're going anywhere.

Comments

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[He wanted, more than anything, to take a stroll back to medieval days when he was a bit freer with a sword and a person's throat. He'd been content in his old age (enough, oh how he'd made excuse after excuse to fool even himself) to have others flock to him, to grow soft and accept that the golden days were long gone.

France tried to comfort himself in the thought of heads rolling as he was stitched up. The prayers had died even in his mind a few minutes ago and only violence remained. Hadn't the God he'd come to know been an angry one? Well, he certainly sympathized at the moment, but why pray to someone who had shown little compassion to he and his people in the past?

Damp or not, he turned his face (before it was to be forced, anyway) when another cart was wheeled out, eying the units and the contents of the container warily. It was strange to emotionally feel the spike of duress but have no gut-wrenching, pulse-pounding reaction; which he expected were to happen when his mouth was forced open. Oh, France had contemplated biting those unfeeling fingers - but strapped to the table, numb and hollowed out and unaware of how to escape, he was at their mercy.

A garbled groan was muffled out by the device and that's when it clicked.

There had been a reason they had gutted him. To make room. He started cursing anew, words indeterminable around the contraption holding his tongue back. When that failed he made an attempt at shouting which ended up being a battle not to drown himself on his own saliva. IF ONLY.]

[animusnpcs]

[The tube is hooked to the pump at the top of the container, and the pump is turned on. The sludge is as thick as it looks, and the path from tube to mouth is slow. It bypasses his tongue as it finally reaches his mouth, then begins pumping into his chest cavity, filling it out more properly.]

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[Let it be known that France is not appreciative of the sludge's slow advance along the tube. Let it also be known that while he now had an all-encompassing void within - and oh how great it was (he could genuinely say that he'd never felt quite as he felt now), he did not want that to fill it.

At first he gagged at the pressure on his throat. He would have taken a few steadying breaths to calm himself as best as possible, however...

The sludge settled in like tar, filling and fleshing out his abdomen. France should have found that part pleasing, the concave appearance would have been unsettling. Only it was being filled with a mysterious substance that he could only guess would do to his body.

What was left of it, that is. He wanted to thrash and scream but the funnel of sorts and tube in his throat kept him from doing anything outside of making muted sounds - not words, not moans - just what could be described as noise.]

[animusnpcs]

[The sludge fills his chest little by little, the tube slowly slid back more and more, until it's starting to collect in his neck and finally filling his mouth partway. Some of it spills out onto the table, and proceeds to burn through it, and the floor below.]

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[His throat clenched uncomfortably in panic the moment the thick sludge leveled up. For some unfathomable reason he thought they would have stopped before filling him to the 'brim'. Not that any of this was nice, but it would have been favorable if they had just filled the space they'd so graciously vacated. Mais non, they were truly experts of inflicting hell in whatever way they could.

They hadn't filled his mouth completely, no. He noted that it was enough that he would be stuck with his mouth closed like a damned mime if he wanted to keep the details of his surgery completely unnoticeable.

It was about that time that a bit of the pitch dribbled over and hit the table... and went through it with a noiseless plop. Eyes wide, he lay there in hope to not repeat this in fear of causing himself more damage. If he was being logical France would have noted that his throat was still intact. Better yet, the torso the sludge had emptied in to.

He felt heavy and hopeless, so much that the old adage of 'having a good cry' wouldn't bring relief. For having wanted to fight he now was immobilized by more than the medicine; he was terrified of what he now harbored thanks to the friendly staff of the facility that had supposedly saved him.]