Christian
Christian kept his eyes shut as hard as he could, trying to block everything out.
Think of Chloe. Think of Tanya. No wait, don't think of Tanya. Think of Taylor's face when he held the gun on Blakesley. Hehe, that's it...
He cringed a little, and pulled on his wrists that were being held up by chains. His feet hardly touched the floor - much like when Blakesley had him in the lab.
Blakesley opened the door and entered the room. He ignored Christian for the time being and headed straight for the instruments. He wasn't in the mood for cutting today...nor for the whip. He was in the mood for...flame.
He picked up a lighter and flicked it on. Blue eyes strangely distanced, he held the flame under the bottom of Christian's arm, flame barely licking at the skin.
Christian let out a groan that sounded like a cross between a yawn, a sigh, and a shaky breath. He turned his head away, not bothering to open his eyes.
Blakesley's father heard Kaleb going into the room, but settled to watching the broken TV again.
Blakesley.
Blakesley pursed his lips slightly, then raised the flame so it bathed Christian's arm. The scent of burning hair and skin filled the room. Huge blisters started to form on the alien's arms.
Blakesley watched dispassionately.
Christian took a deep breath as he tried to keep his arms relaxed, keeping his face buried into his opposite shoulder. He let out what seemed to be a cross between a soft whimper and a barely audible cry between breaths.
He tried to pull his feet up, but shackles were holding them to the ground.
Blakesley.
"You know...one good scream would make me less irritated," Blakesley murmured.
He raised the lighter so that the metal part branded Christian's skin, right where a blister was forming.
"I'm not screaming for you," Christian choked out definatly.
He closed his eyes and cringed again. He tilted his head to the side, still resting it against his shoulder. He was used to getting minial sleep, but some reason he felt more tired than usual.
This was probably taking more out of him than he'd thought.
Blakesley.
"Really?" Blakesley raised an eyebrow slightly.
"But you will."
The scientist was sure about that.
"The task before me then is to find the correct stimulus."
He flicked the flame off and ran his fingers over the blisters, pressing down on the sensitive skin. Not quite making them burst, but nearing it. Perhaps... He turned to the cupboards and picked up a box, which had an opening big enough for a hand to be inserted into. He went over to Christian and jerked the needles out of his hand that he had placed there the first day. The hand was red and angry looking, especially around the middle hole where Blakesley had driven a needle through to the wood behind.
"Flesh eating bugs, they devour flesh very...slowly," Blakesley explained, giving the box a shake. A dry rustling sound came from inside as Blakesley opened the hole in the side, then slid Christian's injured hand inside. He drew the strings tight around Christian's wrist, in order to keep the bugs contained.
Christian
Christian gulped and closed his eyes. He could feel some of the bugs crawling over his hand, and pausing at the wounds. Since most of the area was still numb, he could only feel the creatures eating when they got to his raw flesh.
He cringed a little at first, then stopped and concentrated on his breathing. He cringed again soon after, stopping himself from crying out.
Blakesley.
Blakesley lifted an eyebrow slightly.
"Well, you're doing better then most. Scream, and I'll think about removing them before they strip your hand bare to the bone. That will take about ten days or so..."
He shrugged slightly.
<"However, it's not a problem if you don't."Christian
"You know... once they start hitting the veins... I'm gonna bleed to death," Christian said between breaths.
He was currently deciding whether that would be a good or a bad thing.
Blakesley.
Blakesley smiled faintly and lifted Christian's chin slightly with the blade of the knife.
"So you hope. I have done this before. You won't die. Not yet. Not for a very, very long time..."
Christian
Christian blinked, trying to move the hair in his eyes unsuccessfully.
"If I want to die, I will," he half groaned, flinching again as he felt something bite into his hand.
"You may have done something like this before, but not with someone like me."
Blakesley.
"And what, exactly, makes you so different, hmmm?"
Blakesley lifted an eyebrow slightly as he traced the knife up the edge of Christian's face. He put the point of the knife directly over Christian's eyeball.
"I'm dying to hear it."
If Christian blinked, he'd cut his eyelid open.
Christian
Christian breathed unevenly as he stared straight ahead.
"Because I don't lose," he stated simply.
Blakesley.
"I'd get used to it," Blakesley said silkily.
The hand holding the knife didn't so much as quiver as he stared into Christian's eyes.
Christian
Christian's arm flinched again, but he kept his head still.
"I don't think so. It's hereditary."
Blakesley.
"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?" Blakesley lifted his eyebrow slightly in question.
Christian
Christian hesitated, feeling his eyes start to dry, then water.
"To be a doctor you normally have to pass Literature," he cringed slightly, "my father-figure never gave... or never gives up on anything he sets his sights on. And I learnt from him."
Blakesley.
"Oh yes...this almost legendary Spider...or was it the Eye?" Blakesley sneered in derision.
"Why you people feel this need to hide behind ridicolous nicknames...almost like something out of a comic book."
He traced the blade down Christian's face, drawing blood this time to mingle with the single tear that slipped down from the alien's watering eyes.
Christian
"Well I don't know, because I don't."
He blinked as soon as he could, and licked his dry lips. He flinched again as he felt something bite into his hand again.
"But we're not the only ones. Humans have that fault too."
Blakesley.
"That's true. There is that..."
Blakesley regarded Christian thoughtfully.
"So, how are you finding the parasites?"
Christian
"They seem a little hungry actually," Christian looked to the side, then back again.
He flinched again.
"Kinda ticklish too."
Blakesley.
Blakesley smiled slightly.
"I do hope you still think that when they reach the bone and start nesting in your hand. A singularily unpleasant sensation."
Christian
Christian frowned a little in concentration as he managed to pin one to the side of the box with his index finger.
"And how would you know if it's never happened to you?" Christian gave him a sideways glance.
Blakesley.
"My father believes one can learn best by experiencing."
Blakesley moved over to the cupboards and got out an eyedropper and a small bottle. He opened it and filled the eyedropper.
"Let's continue, shall we?"
He squeezed a clear stream of slightly diluted sulfuric acid down Christian's side.
Christian
Christian cringed again and squeezed his eyes shut, his hand searching for another bug to squash.
"Well as to that, Chris is a liar," he said between breaths, "acid doesn't hurt as much a bullet being cut out."
Blakesley.
Blakesley looked mildly interested, before he dripped droplets down onto the healing skin of Christian's chest.
"Really? What did Christina have to say about it all?"
Christian
"And why would you give a $#!+ about what she said?" Christian demanded, "you don't care about anything else."
He shook the hair out of his eyes and cringed again, the muscles in his back tightening for a moment before he forced them to relax.
Blakesley.
"It's true, I really don't care, but it is something to talk about. I doubt that you're that highly educated."
Blakesley considered Christian for a moment, before flicking the acid towards his face.
Christian
"I was only educated in one subject after I was taken," Christian said between his teeth, having turned his head so the acid only hit his cheek and neck.
"At least I know what hereditary means."
Blakesley.
"Hereditary means inherited, passed on, something, usually genetic that is passed down through the generations," Blakesley said.
"Forgive me for wondering how it could be properly applied to you."
He pulled the waistband of Christian's pants out slightly, and poured about a quarter of the bottle in.
Christian
"$#!+!" Christian cussed, throwing his head back a sthe acid burnt down his leg.
He hissed through his teeth for a moment, before dropping his head again.
"You just said it yourself. It's not necessarily generic," he raised his eyebrows, "but it was passed on."
Blakesley.
"The old argument between the influences of nature and nurture and its role in establishing an individual as a personality," Blakesley said thoughtfully.
"In yours and Taylor's cases, I must say that nurture would be the primary influence."
Christian
"And thank $#!+ing God for that," Christian's eyes darted to the side, before he cringed at another bite.
He quickly squashed another bug he had pinned.
"If I could tear the $#!+ing weak runt away from his family for a while I'd teach him a lesson or two about his powers and how to use 'em."
Blakesley.
"You said his power of Tongue was basically useless as either a defensive or an offensive maneuveur."
Blakesley lifted an eyebrow slightly as he lit a candle and waited for some wax to melt.
"Or are you referring to his atom manipulation, which he doesn't use?"
Christian
"Atom manipulation," Christian let out a sound that was half groan, half sigh.
He could see what Blakesley was doing.
He flinched again at the pain in his hand, and managed to squash a third bug.
Blakesley.
"Of course...Jane doesn't quite know the full capabilities of her own powers either," Blakesley said.
"Do your...noble intentions extend to her as well, or merely Taylor?"
He really had to get a hold of Taylor and torture him in front of Christian, Blakesley thought. He hadn't planned to recapture Mouse yet but...if Christian showed an emtional attachment to her, that could be easily done.
Blakesley raised the candle and let the hot wax drip onto Christian's eyes.
Christian
Christian kept his eyes squeezed shut as he violently shook his head.
"Jane means $#!+ to me. The only reason I helped rescue her from Quantico was because I owed a guy a favour."
Keeping his eyes shut, he stopped to catch his breath.
"And they're not noble intentions. He's pissing me off."
Blakesley.
"Quite the pragmatist then, I would conjecture?" Blakesley said as the wax dripped onto Christian's face.
"So, if I brought Taylor in here...you would do what, exactly?"
Christian
"$#!+," Christian cussed, as he felt his face burning.
"Well that depends if you're in the room at the time."
He took a chaky breath, pulling on the chains on his wrists again.
Blakesley.
"One would suppose that I would be," Blakesley said softly.
"I wonder...what would you do if I whipped him raw? All. The. Way. To. The. Bone."
Blakesley punctuated each word with a flick of his knife, reopening the wound on Christian's chest.
Christian
"You're not gonna get the change to find out," Christian sneered, flinching a little as he was cut.
He managed to squash another bug, then groaned slightly.
Blakesley.
"I think you're wrong," Blakesley said as he sliced up Christian's chest with broad flicks of his knife.
"I think there is every chance...almost a certainty, in fact."
Christian
"Well like I'd give a $#!+ about what you think anyway."
Christian tilted his head back again. Both his arms and legs were tingling with pins and needles, and his healthy foot had gone numb.
He squashed another bug.
Blakesley.
"So rude, so uncouth," Blakesley chided.
He dropped the knife onto the table and considered the state of Christian.
"I don't want you to die yet..."
He started to make preperations to give Christian a blood tranfusion.
Christian
Christian closed his eyes, then dropped his head again.
"You don't give a $#!+ about what I say, so why should I give a $#! + about what you say?" he murmured.
He cringed a little as another big bit in.
Blakesley.
"When you have something intelligent to say, I will listen."
Blakesley smoothly inserted a needle into Christian's vein, and started the flow of blood.
Christian
Christian groaned again, leaning his head against his arm and closing his eyes tiredly.
"You wouldn't know something intelligent if you sat in a high school and listened to Einstein," he said between a sigh.
Blakesley.
"And once more you astound me with the depths of your ignorance and wilful stupidity," Blakesley murmured, eyes on the IV tube.
"What would you know of ars gratia artis?" (Art for art's sake)
Christian
Christian frowned a little as his body swayed.
"Taylor is the one with Tongue, not me," he raised an eyebrow, "don't expect me to understand jibberish."
He flinched visibly.
Blakesley.
"It's Latin, and it means art for art's sake," Blakesley said condescendingly.
"Oderint dum metuant." (Let them hate provided they fear.)He ran a thoughtful hand down Christian's back.
Christian
Christian shivered, as he felt the goosebumps showing up to his neck.
"This isn't art," Christian kept his head down, but looked up toward the door, "this is the result of a sick $#!+ing obsession that people get thrown into mental institutes for."
Blakesley.
"Just because an art is underappreciated...makes it no less an art."
Blakesley noticed Christian's physical reactions and smiled slightly, running a finger down the curve of Christian's spine. If this was what provoked a reaction...
"But you don't understand the beauty that is pain. Children, they don't either. They don't have enough understanding. Animals are too stupid. But you *could*...that is the difference."
Christian
Christian shivered again at his touch.
"I do appreciate it actually, but I am no masochist."
He shook the hair out of his eyes, took a shaky breath and squashed another bug. He smiled slightly.
"The look in Rebekah's eyes when she knew she was going to die a slow death was soemthing to behold."
Blakesley.
"I have no use for masochists. They appreciate it, but...an unwilling participant is the better challenge."
Blakesley took a scalpel and trailed it down Christian's spine, not cutting the skin.
"And Rebekah always was weak."
Christian
"Now you're being cryptic," Christian's voice shivered with his upper body.
"Key word: unwilling. Why the $#!+ would they appreciate it if they don't want it? It's like giving a little boy barbie socks for Christmas."
Blakesley.
"But it's more fun that way..."
Blakesley was feeling contemplative as he trailed the blade aimlessly over Christian's back, unwilling yet to cut.
"The fear and horror is raised to heights a masochist would be unable to contemplate. They enjoy the pain. There is the fundamental difference..."
Christian
"Then you have to admit..." Christian breathed in, annoyed that he couldn't stop himself shivering.
"You can't expect them to appreciate it. You need to feel those things yourself for once to actually realize how helpless you become."
Blakesley.
"And what makes you think I haven't, hmmm?"
Blakesley lifted an eyebrow slightly.
"My father is a most effective teacher. In order to fully know what pain is, you must experience it for yourself."
With a flick of his wrist, he cut along the bottom of Christian's shoulderblade, the cut barely visible due to the keenness of the blade before it started to drip red.
Christian
Christian flinched at the cut, before squashing another bug.
"Then you'd know that feeling those things, you don't think of anything else. There's only one way to focus. The only reason you're so warped is because you were brought up that way."
He shook some hair out of his eyes, and twisted one of his wrists.
"But the point stands that you can't expect people to appreciate it when they're too busy freaking out. That, or they don't want it."
Blakesley.
"Most people do learn to..."
Blakesley slid the flat of the blade against Christian's back.
"Eventually."
Christian
Christian took a deep breath, lifting his body slightly as he glanced up at his wrists.
He flinched as another bug bit into his hand.
"I won't be one of those people."
Blakesley.
Blakesley chuckled.
"Oh, really? I didn't think so either..."
He leant the blade against the back of Christian's ear, barely cutting the skin.
Christian
"You were young, and easy manipulatable," Christian cringed a little as he felt the sting.
"I've completely passed that stage. Sorry to dissapoint you. Actually, I take that back again."
Blakesley.
"Eventually...everyone breaks. Again, it's merely the matter of the correct stimulus. Taylor...it was the threat of damage to his hands. So precious to a musician. Jane, being blindfolded and unable to move while I caused pain to Taylor. I believe that particular phobia comes from Christina. For you..."
Blakesley dug the point of the scalpel into the curve of bone behind Christian's ear.
"I haven't found it yet, but rest assured that I will."
Christian
"That's most likely because Taylor wasn't thinking clearly, or he wasn't thinking of the long-term."
Christian turned his head a little and closed his eyes, the muscles in his arm moving a little as he squashed another bug. He hesitated for a moment,t hinking of how many there might actually be in there.
Blakesley.
"For a person like Taylor, his hands are his long term."
Blakesley dragged the point of the scalpel down the side of Christian's throat, then turned to the cupboards. He picked up a cat of nine tails, the metal tips clinking against each other gently.
"And I don't think you'll be able to kill all the bugs before they start to nest."
Christian
"That's not what I meant," Christian shook his head slightly, hearing the sound of the whip.
"In the long-term, Taylor wouldn't have to worry about any damage done to his hands. Just like I'm thinking of long-term right now, and I am not worried."
Blakesley.
"Oh yes, that's right. You're going to get out of here and kill me slowly and painfully."
Blakesley smirked.
"And how many times have I heard that before?"
He brought the whip cracking down on Christian's back.
Christian
Christian cringed as the whip hit, pulling on his wrists again though the chains on his ankles held him down.
"I meant that once I get out of here I have easy access to a healer. And so does he. But if you want to look at it that way, you can."
Blakesley.
"Whatever you meant, it is slightly irrevalent seeing as the only way you're going to leave this room is in pieces for easy disposal."
Blakesley studied the lines of red and torn flesh running the length of Christian's back.
Christian
"As you so often like to say... If it makes you feel better to think that, go ahead and do so."
Christian looked up again, then towards the door as he squashed another bug.
"If someone as weak as Taylor can escape you, then I'd consider my chances damn good."
Blakesley.
"But Taylor wasn't wearing one of my suppressor collars, and there were actually people out looking for him."
Blakesly put his fingernail in the edge of one of the whipcuts and lifted the skin slightly.
"With Tanya in space, there is actually little chance that you will leave alive."
Christian
"Tanya is not the only one who gives a damn about me. I've told you before about the amount of contacts I actually have."
He shook the hair out of his eyes again.
"You don't know about Steel, you don't know about Chloe, you don't know about Dustin, you don't know about Lucious, you don't know about Owen. And you couldn't have a clue of their contacts alone."
Blakesley.
"Possibly the only alien organization I would be cautious of, is the YIRAAS. I don't think you were seen coming in, and my father and I are the only ones who know you are here. And we won't be telling anyone about you."
Blakesley fitted his fingernails of one hand to the edge of the cut, and ripped downwards.
Christian
Christian let out a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a gasp for breath, careful not to cry out.
"That's beacause the YIRAAS are the only organization that you know about. You don't know about all the underground operations that even thy don't."
He hissed a little through his teeth, as he pulled on his wrists again.
"That's my world. Ever seen the movie 'Enemy of the State'? I've been told it's like that."
Blakesley.
"Movies never did anything for me..."
Blakesley kept dragging his nails down Christian's back, skin almost shredded already clinging to his nails."Except for possibly Silence of the Lambs."
Christian
"They never did much for me either, that's why I haven't seen it."
Christian felt his leg jolt for a moment, and looked down at it. Christ, don't set the nerves off now...
"I've heard talk about the lambs movie.
Blakesley.
"I think you would come under Hannibal's grouping of people it was best to eat...the free range rude."
Blakesley raised his hand and looked at the shreds of skin that were caught underneath his fingernails. He tsked slightly, then went to wash his hands in the small sink.
Christian
Christian groaned and rolled his head, the blood transfusion starting to send him off balance.
"I've heard of Hannibal. Never really cared," he hung his head, blinking as he started to feel dizzy.
He looked up at the door, then leant his head against his arm.
Blakesley.
"You don't seem to care about much," Blakesley commented as he rinsed his hands clean of blood and fragments of skin.
Perhaps it was best that he finished for today...
Christian
"Oh gee, when did you figure that out?" Christian scorned.
"But why should I? Logically, there is no reason."
Blakesley.
"But is it true logic or spurious logic?" Blakesley said as he wiped his hands dry on a handtowel.
"But once again...our philosophies coincide. There is truly very little I care about...except my Art."
Christian
"It's what I see it as, nothing more, no less."
Christian looked up at the door, then down again.
"I don't have anything to obsess over like you do... apart from maybe killing aliens."
Blakesley.
"Dedication is close to obsession...it's not surprising you see it that way," Blakesley said as he started to clean up.
"Why do you kill your own kind? Just out of curiousity."
Christian
"Why do humans kill humans?" Christian asked rhetorically.
"Spite, revenge, something to do when you're bored. It's what I was brought up to do, I can't exactly drop it."
Blakesley.
"Then you would understand why I do this..."
Blakesley studied one of the knives he'd used for a moment, then started to clean the bloody instruments. Sterilizing them and making sure the whip was clean, then oiled so it was kept flexible.
Christian
"Of course I do," Christians corned, closing his eyes as the dizziness took over for a moment.
He raised his eyebrows and opened them again.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it or understand it. Or let you do it to the people I'm supposed to be looking out for."
Blakesley.
"We can only be as our nature makes us...or as we have been taught."
Blakesley studied the gleaming scalpel for a moment, then packed it away with the other knives. He stood and then walked over to the door.
"Good night, Christian."
He left, turning off the lights.
Christian & Blakesley Snr
Christian groaned, as he hung his head, not letting his eyes well up. It just... hurt. His whole body practically stung, even when ti was numb.
He took in a shaky breath as he tried to twist his wrists again, then pulled on the shackles on his ankles.
He had to find a way out of there sometime.