[log] Decoherence [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: anyone
Location: In Norfinbury, and yet not.
Date: At all times, and yet not.
Summary: What you remember isn't what happened, probably. A place to play out situations that happened in the test drives or elsewhere. Things that happened and didn't happen.
Warnings: general horror warnings; please include more specific warnings in subject lines as necessary!

Comments

Noisy Black Redux CW: body horror/trauma, medical horror (continued)

[zunesareawesome]

CW's continued: torture, unnecessary surgery, psychological trauma, throat/mouth squick, potential blood/gore, embedded wires/electronics, forced IV's/feeding, brain/spinal/nervous system horror, stitches

A. For Stephen:

[This was the worst place ever.

Peter had arrived only a few days earlier, and okay--maybe he could deal with being randomly kidnapped, the survival situation, trying to find a way home. The weirdness people were talking about, monsters--whatever. Even without his blasters, he could deal.

But this? Whatever this was? This was messed up.

He'd hated doctors for a long time, human doctors anyway, especially once he found out how primitive earth medicine really was. Seeing himself in that hospital gown when he first arrived here had set him off already.

Also he probably shouldn't have goaded Stephen on back on the network, a part of him wondered if the man had snapped and taken some kind of sick revenge. When he'd been strapped on the table, he tried to reassure him that Wizards are way cooler than space pirates! Then again, he couldn't exactly believe he was saying those words. All humor disappeared when he realized what the good doctor was going to actually do to him.

Peter looked up at the cell bars, this was way worse than when he'd been jailed in the Kyln. At least in the Kyln, he didn't have a speaker shoved into his mouth, vocal cords cut, and his Zune embedded in his chest. There were wires poking in and out of his neck and through his chest. Wires from the top of his neck down his back, connected to his spine, and eventually making their way into a large, achingly heavy battery pack of some kind embedded in his lower back. He assumed there might have been more done to his nervous system, spine, or maybe his brain, but he was too busy screaming to really be sure. His hands were sewn flat against the side of his stomach, just above his hips, leaving him as helpless as apparently he was supposed to be.

He was so tired. If he turned his head, he could see a small display on the battery pack? A red battery symbol was blinking. What happened if it went completely out? Somehow he just knew he was shutting down. The battery was running him now, somehow. Peter slowly, achingly moved to a lying position, hating to move because he could feel all the metal and wire and plastic, things where they shouldn't be, ugh, and worst of all, he couldn't make noise. Natural noise, anyway, weirdly enough his Zune seemed to turn randomly. Until he found out that it turned on when he thought about it, music filtering out of the circular speaker in his mouth. He'd attempted to spit the thing out, but it was somehow embedded in a way that he could not. Its size, the way it took up his entire mouth, may have been a factor in that as well--he couldn't move his jaw or tongue.

A thin thread of music warbled and faded as unconsciousness finally took him.]

B. OTA

Any point during the Noisy Black event, including network posts, is open to anyone!

all cw's listed above will be in effect for the full length of this thread

[thewarningafter]

It hadn't been easy. Even with the miraculous gift given to him by the Prophet, the restoration of his hands, Peter's treatment had been long and exacting work. It had been so right, though, a return to his previous life in the most meaningful way possible, and Stephen had been almost joyful at the chance to shine in one of the best ways he knew how. Thanks to Peter, he'd even been able to listen to a little music while he worked.

When Stephen is upstairs, his hands shake again, but it's from the overwhelming anxiety and nausea he feels knowing what he's done to Peter and to his other patient. When he's upstairs he schemes with the others, trying desperately to lay out some plan that won't be undone the instant he leaves the dormitory. He tries and fails to comfort the others 'converts.' To comfort himself. He tries and fails to imagine how things can ever be made right again.

But Stephen is not upstairs right now.

Peter's already run himself down when Stephen arrives at his cell, which isn't surprising. Stephen's touch is gentle, professional, as he crouches beside his patient and turns him over on his front. He's humming a tune, the first one Peter had started playing after Stephen first connected the wires, as he unspools a power cord and plugs Peter's battery in to charge.

[zunesareawesome]

When the battery is plugged in, the little light blinks and Peter stirs. It’s the weirdest feeling—he was waking up, but he could feel the electricity flowing through him, energizing him—it wasn’t pleasant, though, more painful and buzzy. It almost felt like that one time he was fixing the Milano and stuck a spanner in just the wrong spot and got thrown across the docking bay.

His eyes shoot open, and for a second he thought he was on that table. Stephen was here. Peter would have yelled if he had working vocal cords. Instead all that came out was a puff of air through his nose and his Zune turned on. He struggles to lift his arms, forgetting that his hands were now firmly stuck to his sides.

Get the hell away from me was translated into a short clip of a song, filtering through the speaker—

“Hit the road jack, and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more—”

[thewarningafter]

Stephen can't help it; he smiles at that. He knows perfectly well what Peter means by it, but it's alright. He just needs time to adjust, to really learn humility and helplessness, and to be ready for the next part.

"In a way, I should be the one thanking you," he muses, reaching up to unclip the coiled tube from the IV stand, to attach the needle. "It's been a long time since I've heard so much music. I know you're mad at me right now, Petey, but this is just step one. You're going to thank me for this later, when you understand."

[zunesareawesome]

Petey? Stephen may have just done horrific, inhumane things to him, honestly, that was uncalled for.

He plays a clip of I will survive.

"Go on now, go. Walk out the door,
Just turn around now 'cause you're not welcome anymore,
Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me--"

And then after that, a tiny clip of Tragedy.

"Don't know why--"

What was going to happen next? What was he even talking about? When he understood? There was no understanding this!

[thewarningafter]

Stephen shakes his head. "You're going to need your strength...kind of. You need to learn helplessness, but that's not going to happen if you die on me. I suggest you hold still for this next part."

He'll do a good job with the IV, at least, though it'll get messy if Peter struggles.

[zunesareawesome]

Stephen's touch is unbearable, and Peter can't help but flinch, trying to back against the wall, move his arms, try to move his hands stuck to his sides. It's all he can do, really. The plug cord wiggles but doesn't go taut.

A cacophony of different noises squawk out of his speaker, different bits of songs as he loses control of what he wants to say. It would have been a series of whimpers if he'd had his actual vocal cords.

What was that IV even for? Was he going to do something else to him again?

[thewarningafter]

Stephen lets out an annoyed sigh as Peter's wriggling makes the tip of the needle tear at his skin instead of sliding in neatly. "What did I just say?" he asks impatiently, the sitcom dad style of bedside manner wearing thin in the face of resistance. "Now you're bleeding. Good job."

Ignoring Peter's squawking, Stephen shifts position, trying to work out the best way to -- well, there's an idea. Peter might find it a little hard to breathe for a moment or two as Stephen simply sits on him, knee pressing down on his arm to immobilize it so Stephen can get the IV in.

[zunesareawesome]

The sting of the needle tearing is far too much like what happened to him on the table. The rapid huffs of air coming from his nose would have been frantic yelling, if he'd have been able to make any sound from his throat.

Stephen sitting on him made it so much worse. Peter's eyes were wide with primal horror, but he was unable to fight back, too weak from whatever had just happened to him, too weak to fight back against them. Peter was a fighter, he'd always fought--or fought by ignoring a problem, but this was different--what just happened to him, this was fear on a different level.

The squawking grew frantic, the music blending into one blast of unintelligible sound.

Stop it stop it stop it stop it--

--it's enough to get him to hold still long enough, at least. Peter's struggles ceased and he went limp, shoulders shuddering. The music squealed into a single, high-pitched whine, before cutting completely out. Please, just get off.

[thewarningafter]

"Now you're getting it." It's a hard road, Stephen knows, but he's glad Peter's picking up this first lesson so quickly. He doesn't linger longer than it takes to get the job done, not wanting to suffocate his patient. Stephen lays gauze and tape over the needle where it's inserted, making sure it'll stay before he shifts his weight back off, careful not to tug any wires, and careful to get up slowly in case Peter tries to start thrashing.

"Not quite textbook," he admits, simply sitting on the floor beside Peter as he reaches up to twist the valve on the IV and get it flowing. "But we're getting there."

[zunesareawesome]

Peter’s shoulders continue to shake, furious he can’t even wipe the tears that snuck down his face. He can’t help the shudders of revulsion going through him, either. Every part of his aching body screamed for help. Being moved like that jostled his wires, his Zune, he could feel all these horrible artificial things where they weren’t supposed to be. Was this what Gamora’s sister, Nebula, felt like all the time? Some part of him wonders if Rocket remembers the ones who did experiemented on him, too. Despite their banter wars, he’d actually liked Stephen, despite him being a doctor.

He’s silent for a long moment, and then clips from Hello, Goodbye play.

“Why why why why why why...”

“I don’t know why—“

[thewarningafter]

Stephen gives him time to 'speak up,' settling in and getting comfortable as he keeps an eye on the IV, and on his patient. It wouldn't do for Peter to get all squirmy and pull out the needle before he's done getting fed, or tear out his charge cord. He could really hurt himself. He lets out a long, understanding sigh, and there's a brief flicker of hesitation in his movement before he pats Peter on the shoulder.

"Yeah, this must be kind of scary. It's going to get better. You're going to understand, soon, and then you'll be like the rest of us. There'll be an end to this. You've just got to break first. I know that's hard, but I believe in you."

[zunesareawesome]

He flinches when he pats him on the shoulder.

Kind of scary. That gets an angry, wide-eyed glare. Peter thought about trying to somehow undo his IV or unplug himself, but it was near impossible to get any kind of success with Stephen actually here, and he’d just end up sitting on him again or something, and he couldn’t handle that right now.

Break first?

No way, man. A squeal of indignation erupts from his speaker like bad feedback. A more despairing part of himself wondered how could he possibly fight his way out of this one? What if they succeeded? And he ended up like them? It was an awful thought. But Stephen was a genius and they got him. Somehow. He himself certainly wasn’t a genius—what hope did he have?

He couldn’t break. Never.

A clip from Father and Son plays.

“It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it—“

And then from Help!.

“Won't you please, please help me?“

that part at the end where the converts were all confused?

[warriorscribe]

[He couldn't take them out of the cells, or at least not off the floor. And he shouldn't. Should he? He doesn't know. He'd like to give them all the comfort of the wonderful beds up in the dormitory, but he never gets as far as the elevator with anyone before realizing what a superbly stupid idea it is, why undo the Prophet's lesson of humility this way?

He can bring them real food, at least, and so he makes his rounds with his tray of cold cut sandwiches and cookies and hot chocolate.

But this cell, he's dreading. It must be even further torture to poor Peter, the way he should be able to see and smell this food but be unable to eat it...]

I...I'm sorry. I don't suppose there's a way...?

Cool! o7

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter was delirious at this point. Part of him wondered if maybe he wasn't, and that things had always been like this. That he'd always been like this. The Guardians, just a dream. He was tired, even when the cord was plugged in and his battery was charging. Maybe he needed Stephen to come and adjust his settings or something.

He's standing because of the the stupid staticky things in the floor, he had enough static and electricity already in his body, thank you very much. But he looked up blearily when he heard someone approach, he could smell something. Food? He saw Enoch, and then the food.

Aw man.

His stomach turned viciously, threatening to eat him from within.

The Zune on his chest glowed under the cloak, his thoughts causing it to choose a song automatically based on what he wanted to say. Or the closest thing he could say, with this means of communication. A clip of The Chain filtered through his speaker at Enoch:]

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.

[warriorscribe]

They're not lies!

[This is immediate, vehement, and also immediately wrong.]

Wait- no, are they? Isn't- argh, I don't know!

...Can liquid get past that speaker in your mouth, at least?

[Look, he wants to help, genuinely. For real this time.]

[zunesareawesome]

[Weird. He narrows his eyes, but he’s just as confused. What was wrong with him? He focuses on the food, and then looks back up at Enoch.

He shakes his head ‘no.’

The following clips from Bohemian Rhapsody filter out of the speaker.]

No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

—Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

[warriorscribe]

I can't- I don't know-

[Don't know what?]

...When it's time? I don't know, I can't. I'm sorry. Just a little longer, you only need to wait a little longer.

[zunesareawesome]

[This doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. Peter's barely holding it together himself, and instead of playing a clip, he outright plays The Sound of Silence. It was apt anyway, he figured, as he lay there, the song filtering through.]



Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence...

[warriorscribe]

[The song does something to him, stills the confusion, his entire mind, for a time. He lowers his head, eyes closed, listening to the song.]

Your music has been good for them. We...

[He looks up, the confusion in his features milder now.]

It won't be good if we wait, I think. I don't know what's needed, but... I can feel it.

[zunesareawesome]

[Music has been good for them. Well, that's all he was now, wasn't he? Someone, something to play music for people. Maybe that's what he always was, just a music-player. It wasn't so bad, really, if it made people happy, right? He wouldn't mind playing a song for them if it helped.

He points at Enoch and back at himself, towards the Zune under his cloak. Maybe this was what he was meant for. Any requests for a song?]

[warriorscribe]

What? Uh-...

[He doesn't know any songs he'd have.]

...Play, play something to let them know hope is not lost. I should speak with the others, this foreboding, we all feel it. Perhaps we don't understand the Prophet's instructions clearly enough. Are we meant to? I'll feed who I can and then we'll seek guidance from- ....from...

...I don't know.

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter nods and plays the probably inappropriately cheerful and bright Ain't No Mountain High Enough. He can do this, this is what he is now, and he wants to give people hope.

Enoch seemed even more confused than he had felt earlier. At least Peter knew his purpose, he just wished that things could be a bit clearer, but there was something comforting in the knowledge that he had a place in the world.

A part of him, deep inside, was suddenly worried and uncomfortable. He didn't know why. It railed desperately against this. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

But he didn't know what.

Maybe it was just because he was hungry.

He looks up at Enoch and shrugs, he can't smile of course, but he looks a bit more peaceful than before.]

[warriorscribe]

[Well, maybe it would lift spirits here while they figured out what they were even supposed to do.]

Soon - whatever it means, I promise you.

[He has a distinct feeling that's not a good thing if left as is but...that's why he's going straight back to the convert dorms after this.]

We'll find the way to go. We won't let everything go to waste.

[zunesareawesome]

[Whatever it means. Soon.

Why was he worried about it?

Peter shrugs, he’s not sure what Enoch means by letting everything go to waste. Wasn’t he always like this? Maybe he meant them caring for them. How long had it been? Maybe it’s been a long time.

He tugs at his hands, stitched to his sides. He...he remembered not being like this at some point. Some point where having working hands was a good thing and this wasn’t...he frowns, looking up at Enoch.

Was there something bad going on?]