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

[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.]