snowblindrpg | [log] Decoherence [open]

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—”

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."

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!

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.

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?

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.

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.

"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."

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—“

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."

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?“

Edited 2017-11-17 23:24 (UTC)

"This is helping," says Stephen, deliberate and patient. "This is the way forward. For you, for your friends, for all of us. The Prophet has shown us the way, and we...follow."

He ends it a bit lamely, shrugging. He knows Peter isn't ready to accept it yet; he just can't sit here without even chatting.

Peter would have scoffed if he was physically capable of doing so. Instead he finally sits up, defiantly. He thought you were better than that, Stephen. You didn’t seem like someone who’d get taken in by this sick ideology so easily, hell, you can’t even accept that space pirates are better than wizards. As much pain as he was in right now, Peter suddenly felt horribly sorry for Stephen. Either he didn’t want to fight back against this thing...or he couldn’t.

He plays a large part of Another Brick in the Wall.

“We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone
All in all it's just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall—”

"Easy --!"

Peter can sit up if he wants, that's fine, but Stephen automatically reaches out to steady him and make sure he doesn't pull on his cords or his IV. There's a look of surprise on his face for a moment, like the song's made him think of something, but then his expression closes off again.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be part of something bigger than yourself?"

Nope, he doesn't like Stephen touching him, he jerks his shoulder away but fortunately nothing comes loose.

I am part of something bigger than myself, he thinks, sneering. Well, he coudln't really sneer, couldn't move his mouth, but the narrowed eyes, he hoped, got the message across.

In another act of defiance, since Stephen didn't want him unplugging things, he jerks his body to the side and tries to dislodge the plug from the wall.

It doesn't take a lot; if anything it's fortunate that there's nothing locking the cord in at either end. It jars loose from the wall; Peter will feel the power stop flowing.

"Don't be like that," says Stephen, looking at Peter like he's a misbehaving child being difficult for the sake of being difficult. "You know, it'll serve you right if you can't talk to your friends because you've run down your battery."

It hasn't been that long since he's been plugged in, and already he can feel how low the battery is. It's both fascinating and horrifying, all his energy felt like it was draining away, his eyes start to flutter.

If they couldn't fix this, he was screwed.

He'd be stuck here forever, wherever there was power. Else they'd just have to carry his unconscious ass around this whole town.

He gives Stephen a dirty look, trying to pretend he defiantly didn't care, but there was sort of a panicky feeling as his energy dripped away.

Edited 2017-11-25 03:17 (UTC)

"Yeah, I bet you're feeling that now," says Stephen, watching him. He doesn't move to get up and plug Peter back in, seeming to take some kind of vindictive satisfaction in just watching him live with the consequences of his actions. "You need this, Peter. I know you were a big, strong space pirate, but that's over now. Humility and helplessness. You'll get there."

Peter’s livid, he’s glaring at Stephen so much. He tries to ‘speak’, but he doesn’t have enough power to, and the music wails and warbles into nothingness. His eyes flicker, but he’s struggling to fight this, to ‘stick it to the man,’ but his body isn’t cooperating. This shouldn’t even be possible, all things considered, but he here was, with a mostly-dead battery sucking the life out of him.

He weakly tries to kick out at Stephen but it’s the saddest attempt.

He was not going to learn ‘humility’ and ‘helplessness’, even though with each passing second the fear welled in his gut. He was helpless.

Edited 2017-11-25 23:04 (UTC)

"You should have enough charge to think over what just happened before you go down again," says Stephen mildly, reaching over Peter to gently unplug the charge cord from his battery pack, spooling it up and tucking it into a pocket somewhere in his own robes before tending to the finished IV. He hesitates over it for a second, gaze flicking to Peter's face as he considers converting it to a port so he won't have to jab Peter again the next time -- but no. Even with his arms immobilized Stephen can't trust that Peter won't find a way to tear it out. The needle, too, is removed, the site bandaged.

It's all for show, of course. Stephen's not going to let Peter get out of this by simply spending his time unconscious. He'll be back as soon as the power runs down.

No...nononono--he honestly expected that Stephen would plug him back in right away. Yes, getting knocked out was probably a good thing so he wouldn't have to endure...this...but then who knows what would happen to him or even other people if he wasn't conscious for it.

He thrashes slightly, jostling the wires and implants in him painfully, he doesn't even have the energy to get up. He slides over, fully on the ground, gazing up at Stephen. The rage was turning into fear, then pleading. He hated this, he hated being helpless, hated being dependent on anyone, much less Stephen, who'd done this to him. Please, he thought, unable to make any noise, unable to move his hands to gesture. Being unable to communicate was just as horrible, especially for someone who was so talkative. Please don't... He hated himself for begging. This was only going to get worse. They meant to turn him into one of them, to break him...he couldn't...he wouldn't...

He felt the life draining out of him. Like he was nothing more than his Zune. Nothing more than a machine. His eyes fluttered, as he weakly tried to move towards Stephen one more time, but it was nothing more than a feeble spasm as he flops over.

Edited 2017-11-27 22:39 (UTC)

"Yeah, alright, you're fine," says Stephen, muttering meaningless platitudes. Look, he'll be kind enough to adjust Peter's position, make sure that downward slump doesn't leave him lying in a way that could injure or suffocate him when he goes unconscious. The necessary injuries are already in place; it would be stupid to let him die now.

He gives Peter's shoulder one last pat before he gets up. When he's stepped back outside the cell and shut the door behind him, he'll pause long enough to add, "Good talk."

And then he's gone.

[log] Decoherence [open]

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