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clickerflight · 6 months

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Fallen: Part 5 - The Box and the Jar

Booiiiiiii, this one was fun to write. Shout out to Ivan who is living his worst life.

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Masterlist

Part 4

Content: Weapon whumpee in training, isolation, sleep deprivation, non-sexual nudity hinted at, blood infusions, shock collar, sensory deprivation, sound whump, dehumanization, reprogramming

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Ivan stared at the empty wall opposite him. It might as well have been a gnat, or a piece of lint under a table for all he paid attention to it.

His fingers were so cold, the blood having a harder and harder time reaching them by the hour. He didn’t wiggle against the wall he was sitting against, knowing all he would get for his trouble was his goosebump ridden flesh meeting with cold stone where he hadn’t warmed it up.

His eyes burned, but he tried to keep them open, taking a deep breath to try and increase his heartbeat. He tried to focus on the cold numbness creeping down his hands, the pain in his empty stomach, the pain in his veins that still coursed through him even though it had to have been days since the last infusion of that blood substance.

He flexed his hands in the metal cuffs bolted directly into the wall sending pins and needles through all his fingers. He welcomed the feeling. Anything to keep from falling asleep.

He dared to blink and was somewhat relieved to find his eyelids opened again when he called to them. He took another deep breath, sighing it out and shivering as the air came back out of his nose fast enough to spin cold air past his exposed chest. A chest where you could easily count his ribs and see where every single one of his blood vessels were, spreading from his heart. The veins in his arm where he got his transfusions every time were just as clear as well.

Ivan didn’t notice his eyes closing. It wasn’t like he was using them to see anyway.

He didn’t notice himself slipping, didn’t notice the pain and the cold slipping away. Sleep reached for him, offering soft arms for him to rest in.

And then the pain seared through his body and he woke with a hoarse scream, twitching and convulsing until the collar around his neck had released its full charge into him.

He hung his head, the collar digging into his jaw as he gasped for air, new goosebumps forming on the ones he already had as his back met cold stone behind him and the sweat induced by the adrenaline immediately started to cool, only barely fought back by the speed at which his heart was beating.

He leaned back against the wall, staring blankly at his bruise mottled legs, ignoring the tremors that picked up as his shivering reached a fever pitch.

Ivan didn’t know how long he’d been in this freezing room, his vein conversely on fire while he wasn’t allowed to sleep. He didn’t know what it was for. He didn’t know what that stupid scientist wanted from him.

And he was beginning to not care.

He had sworn up and down for the first portion of his stay down here, cursing everything and everyone and coming up with insults so creative they would have been pillars of literature for ages if they had been written down.

That was, until the exhaustion really hit. Then all Ivan could do was glower at the door, as if someone could see him through the solid metal. That period lasted for a long time, but not forever.

Then came the crying. Ivan hated crying, especially now. When the tears dried it left his eyes even more heavy and itchy, his headache even worse than before, but he couldn’t help it. Everytime he was shocked, everytime his body calmed down from thinking he was being killed in his sleep, there was nothing he could do but cry, trying to loosen the fear that was still wrapping itself tighter in his chest.

After a while, he was too exhausted to cry, staring at the plain walls, tracking the way each shiver made his muscles twitch, and wait for the next inevitable moment where he would fall asleep and wake up in pain.

His eyes were so heavy. He hurt so much everywhere. But he wouldn’t give in. There was a small seed of hope in his mind that the scientists would do this for so long that he would be on the verge of insanity and then they would be forced to treat him well for at least a couple of days. He didn’t care if he was strapped down into the bed again if he could be warm. If he could sleep. If he wasn’t covered in his own filth.

And in those few days he could build himself back up again mentally and he would be fine. He would be alright and he could handle whatever they threw at him next. He wasn’t going to break. He wasn’t going to be their weapon. Eventually, whatever they were doing to him would make him strong enough to escape and he’d make it out of here with a few of their heads, a superpower, and a dark backstory to tell in bars to guys he wanted to scare.

He just needed a couple of days. That was a-

Ivan screamed as the collar went off, sending lighting through his body that seemed to aggravate whatever was causing so much burning inside of him.

He gasped for air, trying to understand.

“Nno,” he rasped, his throat hurting with the word, but he needed to get it out. “No.. I din’t sleep. I din’t-” The collar went off again, and Ivan released a guttural scream, pain besides lighting tearing through his throat.

There were tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t care, his breath hitching with fear and anticipation as he waited for the next one. The next one that would come out of nowhere for no good reason.

It didn’t come.

Well. It didn’t come until he fell asleep again.

……………………………..

Ivan only got one day to recover, and he spent all of it asleep, pumped full of nutrients and water as the scientists milled about, deep red liquid steadily trickling down the line and into his arm, his skin reddening as a new burning lit into his flesh.

………………………………

Ivan woke up, heart racing and veins burning. He struggled, an overwhelming sense of dread taking him, but he found himself unable to feel anything as he did. He opened his eyes, struggling and was startled by the greenish glow that lit the room around him.

No, not a room. A huge test tube. He was suspended in a thick liquid, a mask over his face and his arms restrained to the sides by bindings made out of materials that were see-through and nearly impossible to feel.

He saw the scientists outside the tube as a mechanical arm with a needle disappeared completely above him, taking a needle with it.

Dr. LeAnn stood there, smiling to herself and giving instructions that Ivan couldn’t hear. Two mechanical arms came down, and despite his struggling, one grabbed him by the throat to hold him still while the other locked a visor around his head. The arms left again and Ivan tried to shake it off, but the visor wouldn’t come off, especially not with the way the liquid around him was starting to set and gel, making it hard to move at all.

He looked out through the visor at the room, saw Dr. LeAnn nod, and then his visor blacked out, obscuring his vision completely.

Ivan froze, staring wide eyed at the complete nothingness. He just wished he knew what to expect. He wished he knew what was happening.

A soft sound broke through the quiet as the gel solidified fully around him, letting him wiggle and breath, but not much else.

He strained to hear the sound coming from the part of the visor that covered his ears and flinched as a loud sound of static took its place instead. He squirmed as the volume rose, his ears beginning to ache with it and hurt with the pulses of sound that started next.

Just as the loud chatter, the radio noises, the sounds of voices that were just too muffled to hear, the static, and the loud chirps began to make Ivan want to beg for it to stop, it changed, slowly quieting down until a voice that had been buried behind everything else came forward.

“Hello, Project 5901.”

Ivan growled into his mask, and even if he couldn’t hear it, he knew that the sound came out wrong with the way his voice box shuddered.

“Did you enjoy your time in the box?”

Ivan made no reply, but Dr. LeAnn didn’t seem to mind, her voice continuing to needle his brain.

“Be aware, if you ever disobey me to the point of needing discipline, you will spend three days in the box. If correction is all you need, you will either take other punishments, or spend time here, in the jar. This depends on the severity of the correction being taken. You might even enjoy it here.”

Ivan swore, ignoring the pain that it caused.

“Hmm,” Dr. LeAnn said, amused. “Well, back to your regularly scheduled program.”

Ivan winced and swore louder as the horrible layering of terrible noises came back, this time including loud cracks of gunfire and what sounded like people scratching nails down chalkboards.

He was suspended in the jar with nothing to focus on but the sound in the blackness, shuddering and flinching at unexpected noises. His exhaustion came back, and with it the burning in his veins ramped up. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t block out the sounds. They were so unpredictable and changed enough that anytime he started to even slightly get used to it he would be sent violently back to square one again.

He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes so he could pretend the darkness was his own choosing. He’d just have to endure. He’d be fine. It would be terrible, but he could endure. It was just torture. He’d make it out of here, no matter the consequences. He’d go eat terrible chocolate pickles with Kolt and everything would be fine. He’d be powerful enough that neither him nor Kolt would ever be kidnapped again. They could find a different city and live there for the rest of their lives and lay low.

A man’s sobbing broke through the deafening sounds, and Ivan cried out, trying to escape the gel when he recognized the tone.

The other voices faded back and the sobbing rose to the front.

“No, please, please, please. I’ll be good. Please. Don’t put me in the box, p-please.”

“Good weapons don’t beg when they know they need to be disciplined.”

The man wailed and Ivan sobbed along with him as Kolt begged for mercy, soon drowned out by condescending laughter, cat calling, and the sound of a jackhammer, the last Ivan hearing of Kolt being a drawn out scream that faded like he was falling.

Ivan sobbed outright now, dizzy as he started to breathe harder and faster into the small mask. Kolt had been through all of this. All of this! And more! He’d been tested on to make that blood substance and then thrown in a cage to be beaten every day. He’d been damaged beyond reasoning, beyond repair and there had been no one there for them. Ivan hadn’t found him. Ivan at least had the knowledge that when he got out of here he and Kolt would be able to share this and work it out together. There was a sick sort of comfort in knowing someone had gone through all this before.

Kolt had none of that. All he had was a friend who had dragged his feet about making sure that Kolt was really dead for certain who got there too late. A friend that would take his place.

And Kolt wasn’t even safe. Deal or no deal, Dr. LeAnn could have Kolt back here at any point.

Ivan trembled as the sounds of screams pierced his eardrums, dogs barking and the sounds of tearing flesh ricocheting off of the inside of his scrambled mind.

The sounds softened again and a robotic voice began speaking.

‘You are project 5901, Alpha-2. You have no other name. You have no agency. You are a weapon. You are project 5901, Alpha-2. You have no other name. You have no agency. You are a weapon.’

The message repeated over and over again, occasionally changing tone, inflection, or accent, but the same thing over and over again until Ivan fell asleep, cradled by the gel with the nightmarish lullaby of his future ringing in his ears.

Part 6

Fallen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

#whump #fallen #weapon whumpee #isolation #sleep deprivation #non-sexual nudity #blood infusions #shock collar #sensory deprivation #sound whump #dehumanization #reprogramming #my boy is going through it #He's going to be in so so much trouble here in a minute #It's going to be so so fun watching him crumble #>:3

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nocasdatsgay · 8 months

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From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 2: Heir and High Lord

This can be read as a standalone

Word Count: 2938

CW: Blood mentions, Emotional Distress

Chapter Summary: Beron was dead. Beron was dead, and Eris… Eris was not High Lord.