This has spoilers for tocs 2 end game

[reanbeanmachine]

[Crow's wounds required immediate treatment, and while he was in the care of Heimdallr's hospital something went... Wrong. Word got out somehow who he was, leader of that terrorist group, the sniper whose bullet set off the war. Some bribes, some shady dealings, and before the intelligence agency or RMP could react, he was home from his room.

Luckily for Crow by the time he's kidnapped he's in stable condition, and his captors want him to recover, so he's been transported carefully. Where he finds himself though, well that's hard to say when he wakes up chained to a bed in a featureless room with no windows, and a drain on the floor. At least his bandages are fresh.]

Comments

[filetofish]

[He's feeling it, but when he realises what's going on he's even more determined not to show weakness. He's flushed, but rather than let himself freak out he just gives the man a withering glare.

At least he's gotten to his feet. That feels better than being on the floor, and he has room to back up as far as the chains will let him.]

Are you sure you're doing this for revenge? Looks to me like it's just for fun.

[reanbeanmachine]

Are they mutually exclusive, I wonder?

[He does nothing, just watched Crow with that slightly mad light of hatred in his eyes.]

[filetofish]

Yeah, kinda.

[What can he do? It hurts enough to make him want to collapse. He's turned on enough to want to squirm, and that makes him feel humiliated enough to run away. But he can't run, and he won't let himself do the rest. He's stuck there, at the end of his chain, angrily trying to rid himself of anything left on his skin, orbment or mark or otherwise. It's gross. He feels gross.]

I can stand here all day, asshole.

[reanbeanmachine]

Go ahead.

[He seems quite content to wait, watching Crow creepily but still not actually doing anything for now. After all, this is part of it, breaking Crow for revenge doesn't always have to involve touching him at all. Though the hands on approach is far more satisfying.]

[filetofish]

Hmph.

[He has no response to that. He's just going to stand there, arms crossed and nails digging into his own skin. He won't whine. He won't fall, even though his legs feel weak and he's dizzy from exhaustion and drugs and fever and pain. It's embarrassing to be stared at this way, but Crow's stubborn enough to avoid making it worse for himself.

He's trying to look bored instead of frazzled, but it's not working.]

[reanbeanmachine]

[The man smiles, leaving Crow to his stubbornness for half an hour before standing and picking up the chain, pulling Crow sharply towards himself.

He picks up another syringe, stabbing it into Crow's arm as soon as he's close.]

[filetofish]

[Crow spends that half hour trying to get a better view of the room. What's within his range? What could he use as a weapon? To free himself? There's no easy answers there, but thinking about it is a good distraction.

He flinches when the man stands. He'd resist being pulled, but he's having a hard enough time just standing, so rather than putting up a good fight he just stumbles right into the man. Of course he immediately tries to shove away, but that does nothing to stop the needle.]

Fuck off already!

[reanbeanmachine]

[He smiles as he injects Crow, setting the needle down and letting him go with a lingering touch along his arm.]

Your pride is pointless, criminal.

[filetofish]

I have a name, jackass.

[He's also backing the hell up again, trying to ignore how that touch makes him shiver. He wishes he could move farther. He wishes he could be literally anywhere else.]

[reanbeanmachine]

[He sits down again, keeping a hand on the chain casually.]

How do you feel?

[filetofish]

Sick.

[True. He's not sure if that was more of the same or something new, but so far he just feels nauseous with stress, waiting for it to kick in.]

Like I want to punch you in the mouth.

[reanbeanmachine]

[It's more of the same, but far more of a dose than one should have at once.]

Still unrepentant.

[filetofish]

I always will be.

[He's feeling it now, though. He's not sure if this hurts less or more than the shocks, but it is easier to think through, so that's a bonus. It's not a big enough bonus to make up for being so aroused it hurts, however, so he'd gladly go back to the shocks.

He's still refusing to whine, or give in to the want. But as it really sets in he can't keep standing no matter how hard he tries. His legs go out from under him, and he lands hard on his knees, unwilling to stop hugging himself in case he does something embarrassing. No, his hands have to stay occupied, so he's got his arms wrapped tight around his middle and his nails digging into his ribs so hard only the thin cloth of his hospital shirt is keeping him from leaving bloody gouges in his own skin.

He won't cry, either, but he is shaking, trembling with pain and desire and the effort to shut them both out. To keep himself under control, he counts his breaths -- four counts in, four counts out, over and over so as not to hyperventilate.]

I'm sorry for whatever happened to tick you guys off in the process, but I... I won't regret what I did. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, so you can just--

[He has to rein in the anger, or it'll become panic. His voice is choked with agony, but he's giving all he's got not to let it be cut through by tears.]

Kill me if you want. I'm not changing my mind.

[reanbeanmachine]

You won't die for a long long time, as I said.

[He watches Crow drop to his knees and lets him stay there trying not to squirm, at least for a while, it's gratifying to watch him suffer but this still isn't enough so he stands and walks over to him, kneeling to brush his fingers over his face to see how he reacts.]

[filetofish]

[He flinches. It's not very cool, but his jerk away from it is more frightened than defiant, now. There's even a tiny, barely audible noise, the cut-off squeaky start of a whimper.

He doesn't want to be touched. He wants to be in another galaxy from touch, rather than confront how much the drug is making him crave it. Worse, it's dawned on him at this point that the more he doesn't want it the more likely it is to happen. He's absolutely, definitely scared. And yet he's still glaring daggers. He's a fighter, maybe to a detrimental extent.]

Get the hell away from me.

[reanbeanmachine]

Mm.

[He slides his fingers down Crow's jaw, and honestly the defiance and fear are what makes this satisfying.]

You don't have power to command anything here, only to grovel.

[filetofish]

Not happening.

[No way. Nope. And to make his point, rather than shrinking away from those fingers he just bites.]

[reanbeanmachine]

[He gets smacked for it, not even angrily, more like a dispassionate but painful slap.]

I suppose this isn't enough for you.

[He's getting up, reaching for another syringe.]

[filetofish]

[The slap doesn't mean much, but just seeing another syringe makes him want to scream. He stops himself from any pathetic pleading, but a distressed whimper does escape him.

It's already too much. But he can't just grovel. He's too freaked out not to panic, though, so even though it's equally weak of him he's scrambling away until he nearly chokes himself on the collar. Frustrated, he yanks at it, even though he knows it won't help.]

[reanbeanmachine]

[It's a nice reaction honestly, the fear. He lets Crow cower, waking forward deliberately and stabbing him with he third syringe without any hesitation, watching curiously to see how this will affect him with the drugs ashtray coursing through his system. It should already be too overwhelming.]

[filetofish]

[It was already overwhelming. A third dose elevates it so much Crow can't even make sense of it. His coherent thoughts just evaporate, leaving him a trembling, hysterical heap on the floor.

He didn't know it was possible to feel this much pain. He didn't know it was possible to want so badly. He didn't know those feelings could mix in such a confusing, mind-numbing way. There isn't a nerve in his body that isn't alight with it. He can't think straight enough to care that he's crying, so hard it's making him choke and cough between hyperventilating. The only reason he's not screaming is because he's being pushed past that point. All he can do is curl in on himself and whine mindlessly, desperate for relief and too far gone to think how to get it.]

S-stop it...

[It's too late to take it back but he's nowhere near rational right now.]

[reanbeanmachine]

Are you beginning to repent?

[The calm voice is right in front of him as the man kneels, reaches forward to brush Crow's hair from his face, fingertips deliberately lingering on his heated skin.]

[filetofish]

No...

[Is that an actual answer or just a general complaint? Even Crow doesn't know. All he knows is it's too much. Even that tiny touch just makes him sob harder and curl up tighter. He's never been so messed up in his life.]

Don't touch me.

[There's no bite to that. It's just a sad protest. It hurts. He wants to be touched more than anything but it hurts.]

[reanbeanmachine]

How does it feel?

[Describe it for the cameras Crow. Not that he's waiting, sliding his fingers into Crow's hair and petting him like he's a trembling cat.]

[filetofish]

Too much.

[He's forgotten about the cameras honestly. He's having a hard time even hearing what's being said to him enough to respond.

There's nowhere to go to avoid that hand, so he just shrinks under it and shudders uncontrollably.]