𝒞𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇
the image displayed has nothing to do with the reader's appearance.
Pairing: Ada Wong x bio-weapon gn! reader
Summary: You're an experiment, a piece of government property and it's all you've even known but that changes when Ada wants you and she always gets what she wants.
Tags: living weapon, abuse, brain-washing, grooming, deprivation of liberty, angst, water-boarding,
Day 1
You'd never worked with anyone before, at least no one except your maker, but that had changed as well. Change. You'd come to despise it; some knew change as a part of life and a process that came with good as well as bad. For you, change only brought more suffering. They mocked you, saying you had no spirit and you were weak and broken. But maybe you knew better than to bite the hand that holds your noose.
You hadn't paid much attention to Ada Wong at first, your movements coded but fluid, memorised instead of instinct. It would make sense for her to notice. You acted like a machine.
Instead, what Ada did took you by surprise. She talked to you as opposed to talking at you.
"I'm surprised you haven't at least tried to get this."
She dangled the clicker buttons from its small chain between her fingers, close to your face, lightly taunting you.
The sound of those buttons was so deeply ingrained in you; you flinched at seeing it. You rarely did; the facility that owned you didn't allow you to see the remote, so you couldn't tell if it was the fake button being pressed on the one connected to your shock collar. You lived in complete agony at the sound of clicking, and they preferred you that way. You were obedient.
You stayed silent until told otherwise. She might've been a new face. But she was the same type.
"I thought you'd have a little more spirit, 'KM-02'; you're supposed to be a killing machine, and yet you haven't freed yourself."
"I'm loyal." Your voice came out flat as you tried not to grit your teeth, the remote still in her hand, and even if she wasn't touching it, the pain, the memory of the pain, filled you with nausea.
"No, you're not. You're complacent."
"I'm working."
Ada just smiled. You hated it; you'd rather be mocked and beaten than toyed with.
Day 13
You'd made a mistake.
A target you were supposed to incapacitate, and you'd killed them – out of habit; it's what you had been made for...
The punishment would be severe, and despite yourself, you'd been shaking. Teeth dug into your bottom lip so they wouldn't clatter; your legs were weak. They wouldn't throw you away at least — you were too useful for that; you'd go hungry for a while.
You were so caught up in your overwhelming fear you had completely dissociated from your surroundings until Ada pulled you aside.
"You're a mess." She hissed, and you had assumed she was talking about your trembling until you followed her eyes to a bleeding gash on your side.
"Get down; you're bleeding."
You stumbled onto the ground, and she followed you, kneeling onto the ground and pulling a first aid kit from the heavy backpack you'd been forced to carry around since you were a teenager.
So that's what it was for. Not that you had ever known to use it when you were injured; they'd never told you to use it. So you hadn't. Crawling back to the facility with broken limbs and a snail trail of blood behind you.
"Stop shaking; you'll be fine; it's not that bad." But Ada's jaw was clenched. As if this actually bothered her.
"I'm fi-fi-fine; we n-nnneed to finish the mission."
"You'd just slow me down; we're stopping here. Let me fix you up."
Her voice softened.
Maybe she'd caught on, you hoped. Maybe she would save you. It was a pitiful request, brought on by a lack of blood flow. You expected someone to help you, to save you when throughout your life it had become apparent that you were alone. In that way the two of you were alike.
"You're wasti-ing your t-ttime."
Ada hummed, not arguing with you but not stopping either. The fear began to wear off, and you felt the searing pain of your wound more. You ignored it as you'd been trained to do.
When Ada returned you to the facility, you thought of her in between the slap of the wet towel over your face.
You gripped the sides of the bathtub and pretended it was her porcelain skin.
Day 39
"You fucking idiot." Your general's gun came swinging into your face, smashing your nose, and you stumbled onto your knees, reflex tears welling in your eyes.
"What? Are you going to cry? Why is it always - losing - its - shit."
He kicked you in between enunciating his words, your stomach already tensing on impact out of memory. You were lying on the floor, mouth filled with your own blood and spit, when he suddenly stopped.
The laughter of the other men surrounded you. It didn't matter; it's not like you preferred any other pronouns. It was easier to be 'it'; it was easier to be a weapon and to be a good one than to get stuck on your lack of human rights.
"You're lucky she's here. Ada Wong, your personal little saviour, right?" He sneered with disgust, spitting on your face.
"I see the way you look at her, fucking pathetic. You can't hide KM-02. I'll be waiting for you when you get back. Clean yourself the fuck up."
You ran cold water over your face, using your fingers to wipe the blood off but leaving your face wet. You couldn't bear to use towels to dry your face anymore; the fear of being suffocated again would jolt within you, and you'd sooner rip your own arm off.
Ada gave you a once-over when she saw your dishevelled figure, blood still staining your worn uniform, eyes unwilling to reveal any emotion.
It was until you were waiting for your target, sniper rifle set up, before she spoke, surprising you once more, just like the first day you had met her.
"You're not going to ask me why you're here, K?"
A nickname? You brushed it off.
It made sense for her to try and humanise you. People either tried to convince you to act more human or dehumanised you into an object. You'd come to realise you made me most uncomfortable. With your willingness, your silence, your obedience. They either took advantage of you whole-heartedly or were ashamed for using you. You couldn't figure out which one Ada was, but she had to be one. All humans were the same.
"I do as I'm told. My objective isn't to ask questions; it's to kill."
"Ask me," she said firmly.
"Why am I here, Ms Wong?"
The corner of her lips curved up ever so slightly. Her hand reached out towards your face, and you flinched before her hand grasped your chin, fingers resting over your cheeks.
"Relax. I've never hurt you."
"You could."
"If I wanted to, I would have already, KM-02. Your employers don't care what condition you come back in."
She narrowed her eyes, and you pondered how weird it felt to hear the facility in charge of you called your employers. As if you got a wage, as if this was just a job. You'd prefer captors. Abusers.
"You should escape for your own good, you know. They will kill you eventually. Surely you know that."
You certainly didn't dwell on the fact.
"Maybe I want that." Her fingers traced the dried blood under your nose.
"I could help with that." She said liltingly, her voice blanketed in amusement.
You scoffed, laughing a little. The sound was awkward, as if you'd never done it before, something you'd learnt by mimicking the laughs of men while torturing you.
"After we finish this mission, I need you out of there. That's an order."
Maybe your last, you hoped. You decided that if Ada was telling you to leave, you might as well. You had nothing to lose and everything to gain. You trusted her in a stupid childish way. You trusted her with your life.
She slipped a piece of paper into your palm.
"Duly noted."
Day 40
You dragged your bloody body to the fire exit stairs at the back of the address you'd been given. The blood wasn't yours for once. You'd gone overboard, slaughtering most of the staff. Not that 'overboard' meant they didn't deserve it, but you gave them more of a reason to go after you.
You left a note in sprawling handwriting of words you weren't sure you spelt right; writing wasn't a skill you got to practise. You told them you wouldn't say anything, that you intended to disappear, and so they shouldn't look. That if you ever saw any of them again, you would wipe the corporation off the face of the planet.
They'd likely come looking anyway.
For now you were free: free of the clicker, the shock collar, and of fear. You'd leak onto Ada's back door, hesitating on whether to knock. She wouldn't want to house something as dangerous as you; you would put a huge target on her back. It was impractical. So why did she give you her address? Why did she want you?
You knocked, resting on the door, exhausted. Your breaths came in heaves.
Ada opened the door, dressed in black silk that would have made heat pool in your lower abdomen if you didn't feel so anxious.
"Hey." You said feebly, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at the sight of you with blood splattered across your face and body. She smiled. For real this time.
"Cute. Come in; you're a mess again."
AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER YIPEEEEE
