tw : human experimentation.
"ahh~" the all too familiar voice of your captor rang out, "good morning, subject 067."
he always wished you good morning; you are always the first test subject of his day. despite being the first subject, you still have no clue what all was being done to you. or why.
you're just aware of the constant routine: wake up, take your morning shot, lay down on the table, undergo your first round of poking and prodding, a short break, then your second round of experiments. only, the second round was always the worst round.
after the second rounds, you always shake in response to the doses, which you felt were borderline lethal, but of course that couldn't be the case. if they were borderline lethal, you would have been dead already, wouldn't you?
you only changed scenery three times a day. the first change was your "chamber", as he put it. it's where you rest between experiments and where he kept you. it's a blank room, with the walls painted completely black. the only object in the room are that of the bare necessity; a toilet. he hadn't given you a bed or rather, anything comfortable to rest upon. it's not as if he cares about your wellbeing.
what he had given you to rest on, is an incredibly thin cot that lies in the furthest corner of the room. during the harsh winters, if he was feeling kind enough, he'd grant you the privilege of having a second blanket. though, it's a gamble with the blankets. one time, you annoyed him, and so he gave you one riddled with bed bugs. your room was infested with them for a multiple of months - until he bug bombed the room.
the second scenery change of your day, and the last new destination, is the experimenting room. it's a large table with machinery resting near it - each machinery holds, at least, a few needles. you were never sure if he cleans the needles, or if he allows for the bacteria to ruin his ... results. this room, unlike your "chamber", is brightly lit. there is even a small glass wall, which is one-way, you figured out, where he would observe your reactions.
then, after the experiments, you would go back to your chamber. that is how your life was laid out for the past few months, since your capture. during the first few months of your stay, you had strong hopes that your family would come for you. but as time went on, it became abundantly clear that ... would not be happening. by any means.
even dottore, himself told you such things. you had pieced together his name from the few times you'd hear it screamed in the experimentation room.
the "experimentation room", or the torture hall, is shared between all of his experiments. and your chamber was right beside it.
everyday, you would hear the loud screams of the other subjects. you're unlucky enough to piece together one of their names; collei. you heard dottore snap at her one day, after, you assume, her pushing his buttons far too much. she was here for some study about her ... rare condition? you believed. you weren't quite honestly too sure why she was here.
between all the screaming and yelling, it's sometimes difficult to piece together other's stories. but it's all the ... "entertainment" you have in this place. you know, deep down, that this isn't entertainment. of course it wasn't, lives are being harmed and damaged for the benefit of another. but you had nothing else to do between sessions. besides rot.
"it's time to take your shot, you know the drill, 067," dottore speaks, holding a clipboard tightly to his side. some days, he would have to help you up due to your body's exhaustions. though, today isn't one of those days. and you're grateful for that.
you were happy on the days your body didn't give out. it allowed for you to move at your own pace, as dottore wouldn't push you too much. sure, he wouldn't wait hours for you just to go room to room, but he allowed for there to be some time.
you place your s/t hand along the cold wall, pushing yourself off of the ground. you stumbled over your feet a few times, as your balance had gotten worse over the months, as you walked your way over to him.
"oh? are we feeling physically well, today, 067?" he asked. he has this ... strange habit of sometimes asking rhetorical questions and then throwing in genuine questions he wanted a response to.
it's odd; you could never quite differentiate the two, as he changed his mannerisms every so often - just to remain unreadable.
"yes," you spoke quietly.
"i see. this is different than yesterday, why is that?"
"no know.."
"you don't know? how do you not know your own body's responses, 067?"
" don't... maybe food was better."
"was it? did you sleep well, too? i did give you a slight upgrade on your bedding arrangements, haven't i? or was that zander [clone #1]?" he has this weird thing for asking questions repeatedly, in the same train of thought. it was as if his brain never shut off.
"maybe. zander."
"hm. you aren't talkative today. how's your mood? is it subpar?" he asked as he held his clipboard in his pale hands, jotting some things down on your chart quickly.
"... on scale of one to ten?"
"that is how we always do it, isn't it, 067?"
"three."
"oh, my. that's better than the last time you spoke ... last week. last time, it was a one. what improved your comfort?"
it wasn't a one last time. the last time he had asked you to "rank how you felt," you told him to eat shit. which, he didn't take... kindly too. and that is how you got the scar on your face, that was still in the healing process. he stabbed a small hole in your face, causing your cheeks to slice apart and reveal your gums and teeth - all because you back talked him then.
"zander."
"i see. you've taken a liking to zander, noted. we'll switch out your primary caregiver while i'm busy, then. zandice [clone #3], will have to do."
you didn't reply as you follow him into the experimentation room. you knew to take a seat on the blood stained metal table, as per routine. and that's what you did. you held out your arm for him to inject the liquid into you.
"hm. you're more... obedient today," dottore noted as he took a syringe of some blue-ish tinted liquid to your arm, "this is your steroid shot. i switched you over, as your body had been weaker the past few days. you're welcome."
now, that he also expects a response for. there were rare times were he would seem like he cared about you, which you knew deep down that he didn't care, but it was the small moments like these. it was when he would switch your booster shot to something your body needs, like strength in this instance, rather than let your body go in with an uneven playing field.
he didn't care for you. you know that. but sometimes, you have just a slimmer of hope that he does when he'd go out of his way for you like this. though, he probably did this with all of his subjects. he has to. it's not like he was experimenting on archons. there was no way he would be able to do that ... right?
"thank you," you almost wanted to say his name then, but he had not given it to you. and you didn't believe it would be in your best interest to go and give him a major hint that you could hear the other ... "test subjects."
"of course, 067." he states simply as he injects the steroid into your blood stream, gesturing for you to lay on the table, "on your back this time, though. i need to see how your back muscles react."
you do as instructed, laying on your stomach on the metal table as you felt his cold hands lift up the one article of clothing he had gifted to you for behaving. the article of clothing, in question, is an incredibly over sized t-shirt, most likely one of his old spares, that covers your knees.
you used to be a much bigger man. used to have muscles, from all that time working in the factories with your father and from the farm work. and now? you are scrawnier than ever. you barely get to eat. if you behaved well and did as told, he would grant access to one meal, only.
though, zander pitied you. he went out of his way to sneak in a few quick snacks for you. a few more booster shots, small gifts. one time, he gifted you a book. which you read about ... forty times now. you managed to keep it a secret from dottore, luckily. if he knew about half of the things zander gifts you, you were sure to go in the ... punishment chambers.
just thinking about those halls lined up with torture devices made your body noticeably shiver. a hum escaped dottore's lips, most likely signaling that he had taken a note of your shivering.
"shivering due to a mental ... thought, or the tests, 067?" he asked.
"thought."
"what kind of thought?" he pries. he didn't have to pry and he's well aware; you would give him the information anyways, because you are his best subject. his favorite. (as you heard from zander.)
"punishment chamber."
"do those thoughts plague your mind, often, 067?"
"no."
"hm."
and that was .. the end of that.
your eyes widen as you feel a sharp, piercing, pain in your lower back. it could be a multitude of things; a knife, a scalpel, the machine's needles - though, you would've heard them turn on, etc. it could be so many different things of what is poking into your back but ...
you could feel a thin stream of a warm liquid fall down your back, down your legs. that, alongside, with the pain, tells you everything you need to know. you're bleeding. not by a lot, but you are.
"hm.. your scars from last session seem to have already healed. how strange."
this you couldn't respond to. you had to stay silent as he spoke about you, or else ...
the punishment chamber.