☪ - redarmy-xylophone (I'm back from the fucking dead, I'm sorry. This might get Sal movin')
[[ that’s okay my guy !!! Welcome back from the dead lmao ]]
@redarmy-xylophone
Cat had been in a strange room when the other walked in, ominous shadow casting into the room. They couldn’t tell by the silhouette who it was, but as their eyes adjusted to the darkened room they realized who it was they eyes widened in fear. “S… sal…?!”
The other made no acknowledgement of their outcry, only walking over to them, as if he was a robot. He held a large syringe in one hand, the other one forcefully grabbing their arm and pulling them up, turning it over so he could get the crook of the elbow. “Sal, w-wait–” the needle plunged into their skin, making them yelp and try to pull out of the other’s grasp. After the syringe was emptied, he turned and walked out, locking the door. They sat there, shaking as they felt their body crackle and shift, screaming and crying as pain seared through their very being–
They awoke with a start, letting out a small yell as they sat rigidly upright in their bed. They grabbed their arm, looking down and feeling relieved to find that there was no sign of a puncture wound. Running a hand through their hair, they hopped out of bed, throwing on their mask and walking out of their room in their sleepwear–a tank top and shorts. As they walked, they swore they heard other footsteps, but attributed it to being late at night and their paranoia talking.
“Well, this isn’t a very nice story, but, here goes.” They murmur, letting out a breath. “I guess I’ll start it from the beginning, so the reason why I ran from you makes more sense.”
“I first came to the army when I was six years old. My father, a sniper named Demyan, had seen corruption beyond belief in this army, and fled with one of his friends–I don’t remember his name,” they began, trying to keep their voice steady. “One day, my dad’s friend just… ratted him out. Sent the army towards my father so that he could tuck tail and run. They didn’t show any mercy, they… they killed my mom, killed my dad, then decided I would make a good test subject.”
They paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “From that point until I was around 18, it was torture; day in and day out I was tested on,” they showed the insides of their wrists, the long scars making them wince. “Here they inserted some metal rods and other weird mechanical stuff to make my grip stronger and make it so that I could do more with my hands.” They pull down long socks on their legs, revealing the metallic appendages. “These were experiments to see if they could attach a metal arm onto red without trouble. Took a couple tries before I didn’t reject them.”
They hesitated a moment, before hooking their fingers underneath the strings of their mask, pulling it down and revealing extensive scarring, sharp teeth being revealed from behind their lips. “These were just because they wanted to see if they could replace someone’s teeth without using dentures. It worked, I guess; none of them have fallen out,” they murmured, holding the mask in one hand. “Now, the reason why I ran from you was because of a nightmare I had just tonight. I… I was in a room, reminiscent of the one I lived in for 12 years, and you were at the door. You… you weren’t quite you–you didn’t say a word, but you had a syringe in your hand. I don’t know what it was, but I assumed it was another experiment, a-and–” they stopped themselves, realizing that tears were making their way down their cheeks.
“I… I’m sorry. I know that this all is a lot to take in, but… I just–I don’t know. I’m sorry,” they rambled, holding their head in their hand, wincing when their palm presses into their bad eye. “I just… don’t want to go down to that lab. Ever again.”
Sal investigated everything they would point out to him as they continued to talk, and proceeded to pay close attention to the whole dream talk. “It is a lot to take in indeed”, he chuckled.
Sal points all the past operations made in Jojo and says “Those are not only implants made by assholes, but also implants made by twits. These are all really poorly made, that’s why it hurts. I could have some friends of mine fix this for you, but that’s for you to decide.”
Sighing, he continues: “…I don’t have much to say besides ‘just breath for a bit’. You seem to have a long, complicated story that’s been bothering you for a long while now… we can’t dwell in things of our past forever,” he pauses, “but I understand that is a bit harder when your past is crawling your body, rooted with metal nails. What I suggest you to do is, well, breath.” Sal stands up and does some stretching. Then he makes a long inhalation, proceeded by a long exhalation. “See what I did there? First, I aspired the life surrounding me, the stuff that bothers me, my memories into my lungs, and all that effort made my muscles contract and even mr. Diaphragm to come and help my lungs, because there is a lot to take in. Then, my alveoli made all that information turn into experience, and I let all that experience out, to transform my character, my way of being, and the life surrounding me, the stuff that might come and bother me, the memories yet to come, relaxing all the muscular stress.”
He crouches to reach Jojo’s eye level and continues, “You’re probably inhaling for far too long. Soon, you’ll have to inhale again, but until then, relax”, and he emphasizes his exhalation once more.
“About the dream, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. It was just a dream, I’m here.” He sighed, chuckling, “I did have syringes in my hand, but I signed a commitment of cooperativism. I don’t do operations without proper agreement, so… you don’t need to worry about me running around injecting stuff in you or other people.” He sat on the floor again, and exhaled.
He looked up at the ceiling pensively, his smile twiching.
He turned to Jojo and said, “Everyone goes through rough experiences, you must have heard this a lot, I’m sure. So, anyways, make sure to get the better and the worst of the situations, and remember to always use it to become someone better, I guess.”
They shook their head at the thought of getting new implants, letting out a slow breath. “No, the damage has been there for years now. ’S too late to fix that,” they murmured, scratching the back of their neck.
They watch him curiously, tilting their head to the side as he went on about what he was doing. They blink, wondering what this whole convoluted metaphor would turn out to be.
When he mentions the dream, they give a small, tired smile, it disappearing mere moments after it was there. “Good. You’re leagues better than the people who work on others like me,” they admit, bringing their knees to their chest.
They look up at the ceiling, nodding. “I do hear that a lot, but never after hearing something that actually can prove to be helpful,” they hum, looking over to the other for a moment. “Most of the time it’s part of the ‘it gets better’ or 'others have it worse’ talk.”
“If it is too late or not is up to you, but I will respect your decision nevertheless. And, well, if what I said proves to be helpful to you, I'll be more than glad to know, so you can tell me late if it does. Anyway, it's really freaking late already, let us get back to our dorms”, Sal says, following a yawn with a chuckle.
