lealte: (thinking)
lealte ([personal profile] lealte) wrote in [community profile] ravenrock2020-05-16 12:26 am

(no subject)

TIME AND LOCATION: pre-Fallout 3, Washington D.C.
WHAT: A) Enclave mad science. B) Babby's first wasteland mission.
WARNINGS: Enclave being Enclave (human experiments, violence, etc)


Research & Development

Subject 51-0572
Experiment H-03


Nathan glanced at the clipboard and the array of tests scheduled for today. After a week of pumping the subject full of chems, time to see if it improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Time for Nathan to see if the chems improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Occasionally he felt flashes of resentment. The Principal Investigator on the project gets all the glory while the technician does all the work. But any resentment he felt passed quickly once he started running tests.

"Wakey wakey, mutie." He rattled the clipboard along the cage. "Shake off the tranq. We have work to do."


***

Capital Wasteland Slavers

The wasteland was worse than Lieutenant Lone could have possibly imagined. Every day he found himself more and more appalled by the conditions he saw around him, and more and more convinced that Colonel Autumn was right. The wasteland needed the Enclave. The chaos and suffering would never end until someone brought order by any means necessary. Today, they had a business arrangement to negotiate with the slavers at Paradise Falls, but he looked forward to a day when they could come back here and shred the place.

"Where did they get those slave collars? That tech looks well beyond anything wastelanders could come up with."

Research & Development

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-19 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Mitch groaned as he drifted into consciousness, struggling to open his eyes against the fluorescent lights in the hallway. His head pounded with every movement. He'd been dreaming--something about the old world, some vague concept of patriotism and obedience. Sick motherfuckers couldn't even let him escape this hell in his sleep.

"M'awake," he slurred, painfully peeling himself off the metal floor into a hunched sitting position. It felt like he'd been trampled by Brahmin. He squinted up at Dr. Lone--God that face looked punchable--and scowled. "Fuck you want from me now?"

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-19 05:05 am (UTC)(link)
That smug fuck was begging for a kick in the balls, but Mitch’s legs refused to cooperate as he was dragged into the corridor. By the time he managed to find his footing, they’d already reached their apparent destination. An operating room, he realized, with a sick twist of his stomach.

So far, as painful and degrading as the experiments were, they’d been limited to questionable injections and the occasional blood draw. This was something different. He silently begged his useless limbs to struggle, but he was tied down before he could even manage a twitch. The orderlies retreated, leaving him alone with the doctor.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, trying—and failing—to keep a tremor out of his voice. “If you’re gonna kill me, there’s gotta be a better way than...this. Just-just shoot me or something.”

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-20 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Seeing the tray of surgical tools cranked up Mitch's panic several more notches, but he couldn't show it. Couldn't give that asshole the satisfaction. Instead, he twisted his head as far towards Lone as he could and spit in his face.

"My name is Mitch Sawyer," he announced, as he always did whenever they turned that fucking camera on him. Hopefully they wouldn't notice how much his voice trembled this time. "I'm not your fuckin' subject. I'm a human being. And if this shit keeps up, you're gonna wish you shot me instead." An empty threat, but sometimes empty threats were all he had.

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-23 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
Distracted as he was by Lone's disgust, Mitch couldn't hide his sudden flinch as the doctor touched his leg. Just like that, the facade of bravado he'd been putting on was broken. He growled quietly in frustration and clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut. Part of him had still been hoping for some kind of miracle, some kind of escape from the reality of being sliced up like a piece of meat. Stupid of him. Miracles didn't happen down here.

"Fine," he relented through gritted teeth. "Just get it over with, dickhole."

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-25 04:22 am (UTC)(link)
Mitch tensed as he heard the clatter of scalpels on the tray beside him. What would it feel like to be cut open? Just weeks ago that thought would be unimaginable, but a lot had changed since then. Maybe he’d pass out—that would be good. He was so wrapped up in the horrible anticipation, he almost didn’t notice that the noise had stopped.

Cautiously opening one eye, Mitch watched the doctor stroll casually across the room, taking his sweet fucking time checking on things. Taunting him. He felt a surge of anger rising up, but pressed it back down. Maybe he could use this.

Checking to make sure Lone’s back was turned, he began to twist his arm in the cuff, reaching as far as he could towards the tray of tools.

[personal profile] remnantrecruit 2020-05-30 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Lone reached the tray just as Mitch made contact. A scalpel, clenched between the very tips of his fingers. He let it roll into his hand and closed his fist around it. Wouldn't do him much good strapped to a table, but it was something, and that scrawny little shit would have a hell of a time getting it away from him. At the very least it would hold off the surgery for a bit. Or force them to sedate him for it, which was just as good.