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Entry tags:
Deal part 3a
Title: Deal
Fandom: SV
Pairing:
Rating: 3
parts of Deal
Lex woke up to a splitting headache. The pain was enormous, nauseating, throbbed in his eyes, his nose, made his eye sockets ache. Any movement made his stomach rebel, lurching into his throat—any movement, including the opening of his eyes. He did that slowly as he could, hoping his stomach wouldn’t notice. He laid still, wincing at the light, and found himself staring at a beige ceiling, looked down to beige walls and on to a beige tiled floor. He looked to one wall, broken by a door and a large mirror…no, one-way glass. The other walls were solid, and bare. He could hear steady beeping, a sound like a muted alarm and then, the door opened.
He looked up to see Dr. Hartnett, the man he’d arranged to see in Metropolis, standing in the open doorway with a group of frightened looking assistants in a circle around him and behind them, Lex could see a large man dressed in what looked vaguely like a MetPD uniform. Hartnett glanced down on him with the expression of a man looking at a lab rat.
“As you can see, he’s almost completely recovered from the effects of the tranquilizer darts. The amount of tranquilizer was three times normal amount. He’s quickly recovering also from abrasions and contusions—even drugged, he was rather difficult to subdue. What is most interesting about this particular subject is that he is the only one of our test subjects to show true rapid healing. Other subjects have been able to function despite physical trauma, or illness, but no individuals have exhibited actual healing--before this one.” The group of young men and women around Hartnett took notes and murmured to each other. They looked fresh faced--wide eyed and innocent and Lex knew that meant not a damn thing.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he shouted and lunged at the closest person and discovered he was strapped to the table he lay on. He instantly stiffened—it reminded him of a horrible and thankfully damn short period he’d spent in a mental hospital, when Dad had somehow come to the conclusion that his youthful rebellion was actually a mental disorder. Luckily none of his doctors had come to the same conclusion and he was out before any remedy had been applied—but he remembered being with people who truly belonged there and pathetic souls who had no business being in there, any more than he did. It had been the most frightening few weeks of his life and it had certainly been one of the factors that led to a change in his lifestyle….
He dropped back against the table, stomach clenching and his heart pounding. All right. Some how, his dad was involved, probably the author of this setup. He better cooperate with them if he expected to get free. He looked over the group around him, trying to get some clue as to what was happening, and how to approach them. Dr. Hartnett watched with interest as Lex settled back and was still.
“All right, fine. Now, we know that the subject is capable of rapid healing, and that’s something we intend to explore fully and hopefully apply to our research. And, as we hope, to the Cadmus Research project. In the past, the most common method of producing the super-soldier had been a combination of various psychotropics and inhibitors, and some surgery,” he shrugged, and went on, “but we’re out to produce a non-chemical change, a genetic change. The K-SV subjects have shown many promising results. Once we learn to direct the applications for the result we want to produce, I believe we can satisfy our patron.”
Lex listened in stupefied horror. What the fuck was Dad up to? Cadmus…Hartnett wasn’t associated with Cadmus—he’d be a damn fool to contact anyone in Dad’s organization….
Dr. Hartnett stepped up to the table, and still in lecture mode, described what he was doing as he took a thin blade from a tray set up next to the table. “This is the ability that we’re hoping to implant in our future soldiers. Watch carefully.” He sliced a thin red line down Lex’s arm, ignoring his startled shout of pain and outrage. “The incision will begin to close in a minute, in ten, it will look a few hours old, and by tomorrow, I’m certain that it will be fully healed.”
The little crowd broke out in murmurs and jockeyed around each other to get a better view of the miracle in the making. Lex ground his teeth. This ability was one of the things he’d hinted at in his correspondence with Hartnett—that and where he believed the ability sprang from—God damn it—fuck--he’d done this to himself. He wondered just who it was that was funding a super-soldier project at Cadmus. It just didn’t sound like something Dad would be involved in—there didn’t seem to be the kind of profit there that could be made in the private sector.
Hartnett was still droning on. “Our plan is to see if the healing can be enhanced—we’d like to see something like that,” he indicated Lex’s arm, “heal in minutes instead of hours. We’ve worked with some subjects, experimented to see if the original mutagen can enhance mutations or perhaps give rise to new, useful mutations. A problem associated with the mutations seems to be mental instability, brought on or exacerbated by the mutagen but this particular subject seems to have escaped that side-effect--” He smiled to alert his crew he was about to be amusing, “At least as far as we can tell.”
Dutiful chuckles swept the room, and they walked out at Dr. Hartnett’s direction.
The man dressed in the vaguely military uniform waited a beat until the others cleared the doorway, leaned over Lex and whispered, “You cooperate with us fully and I’ll see that you’re treated as well as possible. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll destroy you, and start with someone new. It’s up to you.”
A hot dry palm stroked over the red line on his arm and Lex tried to jerk away. The hand closed possessively around his bicep, and a finger prodded the muscle.
“The skin *is* closed. Fascinating. I wonder how deep I can go before it stops healing?”
Lex froze in the straps. Shit, shit…he recognized the look in that one’s eyes---he’d seen it before in the eyes of some of the johns on the street. Lex knew damn well how long it took to heal from a deep cut—say one like a gash from a broken bottle. Fuck, fuck…he was going to hurt in this place, and hurt bad. Fine—he was prepared, eventually, he’d be missed, he’d get out. Someone would come looking for him….
continued in 3b
Fandom: SV
Pairing:
Rating: 3
parts of Deal
Lex woke up to a splitting headache. The pain was enormous, nauseating, throbbed in his eyes, his nose, made his eye sockets ache. Any movement made his stomach rebel, lurching into his throat—any movement, including the opening of his eyes. He did that slowly as he could, hoping his stomach wouldn’t notice. He laid still, wincing at the light, and found himself staring at a beige ceiling, looked down to beige walls and on to a beige tiled floor. He looked to one wall, broken by a door and a large mirror…no, one-way glass. The other walls were solid, and bare. He could hear steady beeping, a sound like a muted alarm and then, the door opened.
He looked up to see Dr. Hartnett, the man he’d arranged to see in Metropolis, standing in the open doorway with a group of frightened looking assistants in a circle around him and behind them, Lex could see a large man dressed in what looked vaguely like a MetPD uniform. Hartnett glanced down on him with the expression of a man looking at a lab rat.
“As you can see, he’s almost completely recovered from the effects of the tranquilizer darts. The amount of tranquilizer was three times normal amount. He’s quickly recovering also from abrasions and contusions—even drugged, he was rather difficult to subdue. What is most interesting about this particular subject is that he is the only one of our test subjects to show true rapid healing. Other subjects have been able to function despite physical trauma, or illness, but no individuals have exhibited actual healing--before this one.” The group of young men and women around Hartnett took notes and murmured to each other. They looked fresh faced--wide eyed and innocent and Lex knew that meant not a damn thing.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he shouted and lunged at the closest person and discovered he was strapped to the table he lay on. He instantly stiffened—it reminded him of a horrible and thankfully damn short period he’d spent in a mental hospital, when Dad had somehow come to the conclusion that his youthful rebellion was actually a mental disorder. Luckily none of his doctors had come to the same conclusion and he was out before any remedy had been applied—but he remembered being with people who truly belonged there and pathetic souls who had no business being in there, any more than he did. It had been the most frightening few weeks of his life and it had certainly been one of the factors that led to a change in his lifestyle….
He dropped back against the table, stomach clenching and his heart pounding. All right. Some how, his dad was involved, probably the author of this setup. He better cooperate with them if he expected to get free. He looked over the group around him, trying to get some clue as to what was happening, and how to approach them. Dr. Hartnett watched with interest as Lex settled back and was still.
“All right, fine. Now, we know that the subject is capable of rapid healing, and that’s something we intend to explore fully and hopefully apply to our research. And, as we hope, to the Cadmus Research project. In the past, the most common method of producing the super-soldier had been a combination of various psychotropics and inhibitors, and some surgery,” he shrugged, and went on, “but we’re out to produce a non-chemical change, a genetic change. The K-SV subjects have shown many promising results. Once we learn to direct the applications for the result we want to produce, I believe we can satisfy our patron.”
Lex listened in stupefied horror. What the fuck was Dad up to? Cadmus…Hartnett wasn’t associated with Cadmus—he’d be a damn fool to contact anyone in Dad’s organization….
Dr. Hartnett stepped up to the table, and still in lecture mode, described what he was doing as he took a thin blade from a tray set up next to the table. “This is the ability that we’re hoping to implant in our future soldiers. Watch carefully.” He sliced a thin red line down Lex’s arm, ignoring his startled shout of pain and outrage. “The incision will begin to close in a minute, in ten, it will look a few hours old, and by tomorrow, I’m certain that it will be fully healed.”
The little crowd broke out in murmurs and jockeyed around each other to get a better view of the miracle in the making. Lex ground his teeth. This ability was one of the things he’d hinted at in his correspondence with Hartnett—that and where he believed the ability sprang from—God damn it—fuck--he’d done this to himself. He wondered just who it was that was funding a super-soldier project at Cadmus. It just didn’t sound like something Dad would be involved in—there didn’t seem to be the kind of profit there that could be made in the private sector.
Hartnett was still droning on. “Our plan is to see if the healing can be enhanced—we’d like to see something like that,” he indicated Lex’s arm, “heal in minutes instead of hours. We’ve worked with some subjects, experimented to see if the original mutagen can enhance mutations or perhaps give rise to new, useful mutations. A problem associated with the mutations seems to be mental instability, brought on or exacerbated by the mutagen but this particular subject seems to have escaped that side-effect--” He smiled to alert his crew he was about to be amusing, “At least as far as we can tell.”
Dutiful chuckles swept the room, and they walked out at Dr. Hartnett’s direction.
The man dressed in the vaguely military uniform waited a beat until the others cleared the doorway, leaned over Lex and whispered, “You cooperate with us fully and I’ll see that you’re treated as well as possible. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll destroy you, and start with someone new. It’s up to you.”
A hot dry palm stroked over the red line on his arm and Lex tried to jerk away. The hand closed possessively around his bicep, and a finger prodded the muscle.
“The skin *is* closed. Fascinating. I wonder how deep I can go before it stops healing?”
Lex froze in the straps. Shit, shit…he recognized the look in that one’s eyes---he’d seen it before in the eyes of some of the johns on the street. Lex knew damn well how long it took to heal from a deep cut—say one like a gash from a broken bottle. Fuck, fuck…he was going to hurt in this place, and hurt bad. Fine—he was prepared, eventually, he’d be missed, he’d get out. Someone would come looking for him….
continued in 3b
no subject
no subject
*pets the poor boy*