Summary: Ivan's friend and boss was taken by an unknown entity, forcing Ivan to take on a new identity and go undercover looking for Kolt. When he finds him, Kolt is in rough shape and the escape isn't as clean as either of them could have hoped for. Now, with Kolt free, and Ivan captured, Kolt can only try to recover in time to rescue his friend and keep him from being turned into a living weapon in his place.
Fallen Masterlist - Part 39
Content: living weapon whumpee, mentioned facial wound, referenced scarring, creepy whumper, whumpee afraid of being replaced, vigilante whumpee, bound and blindfolded, beginning of torture session.
Dr. LeAnne sauntered into the briefing room where her lovely weapon was still bound up in his harness and blindfold. He sat straight and tall, unlike last time she had come to meet him in this room. He was proud of himself. How cute!
"Alpha-2," Dr. LeAnne crooned.
The weapon straightened in his seat and he turned his head in her direction, almost squirming in his seat.
She approached, gently pulling off the blindfold and headset device so she could see his deep brown eyes. "You did so good," she cooed, caressing his cheek.
He looked up in awe and relief at her, his eyelashes fluttering as she touched him. She still had control over him. Total control, not matter what Harry had done.
Her heart flinched within her every time she looked at the cut in her weapon's face. It was so deep and it was stitched almost carelessly. He was supposed to scar.
"When this is over," she said, leaning over him to unbind him from the harness, "I will have someone remove the scar. It will be like nothing every happened. You are mine, not Harry's."
He gave a soft sigh of satisfaction and nodded.
"Mistress," he murmured. "May this weapon speak?"
"Yes, my weapon may speak," she said, glad that she had disabled the cameras in the briefing room before entering so they could have an open conversation.
"You will not replace this weapon, will you?" he asked.
"Oh, no," Dr. LeAnne said earnestly. "You will always be my favorite. My love. My pet."
At least, as long as he continued to act like her weapon and her pet. She could work with him about accepting other weapons into her care, maybe acting as an example for them, but that could happen later.
He relaxed, relieved as she undid the bands around his arms, pulling the harness over his head and setting it on the floor beside his chair.
"That asset is meant to be Harry's weapon and pet?" Alpha-2 asked.
Dr. LeAnne nodded, stroking her hand over his sweat soaked hair. "That is the plan... though Harry would not treat a pet well, would he?"
"He would be like Dr. Anderson," Alpha-2 agreed.
"Perhaps that isn't fair to our new friend. He will need my attention and guidance. He will need kindness like you needed kindness, remember?"
Alpha-2's eyes shone a little, tears threatening to make an appearance. How lovely was that?
He nodded and Dr. LeAnne continued, "We don't want him to suffer without someone there to help him. He will be lucky. He will have you and me there to help him. Can you do that for me, my pet? I promise, he will never replace you, but he deserves my love, don't you think?"
Alpha-2 nodded eagerly. He hesitated before he said, "Harry intends for this weapon to keep that asset in check, and vice versa. If he orders this weapon to kill the other...?"
Dr. LeAnne hummed softly. "That is a very important question, my love. If our new friend doesn't respond to my care, then he will be a waste of space. If he wants to be with me, with us, then we will care for him. And the two of you could kill Harry together. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Alpha-2 nodded eagerly. "That would be very nice," he said hoarsely.
"Good. Now, I've brought a few things for you to eat," she said, turning to a lunch bag she had brought with her. "You did so good. I watched the footage. You captured him with so few injuries. I can't help but be amazed."
Alpha-2 smiled and looked down bashfully. "Thank you, mistress. I wanted to be good for you."
She allowed the first person pronoun to slide and she hummed, "That you did. Now, how about you move to the floor so I can sit there and help you eat?"
Alpha-2, as always, did as he told without a moment's hesitation, eagerly watching her as she got settled in the chair.
Powell didn't know how long he was left hanging from the harness after he had woken up and been pulled from the van they had transported him in, but it felt like forever in the darkness.
Every time panic started to set in, he forced himself to breathe deeply and think.
He was a member of the Eastern Vigilante Union. You didn't mess with the EVU without consequences. Especially not when it came to Powell. He wasn't the strongest person in the union, but he had connections. He had friends. He knew a few assassins that would claim to be very protective of him.
He swallowed hard, remembering one assassin in particular he hoped was already on the way to rescue him. Powell wasn't really sure what he and Obsidian were to each other, but Powell wished suddenly that he had told the assassin how much he liked them. How he couldn't stop thinking about how nice it might be to kiss Obsidian.
Powell squirmed again, uncomfortable as he was forced to stand on his toes to keep from swinging back and forth as the harness put pressure on his chest. He needed to focus if he wanted to get out of this situation and away from these freaks. They would try to break him and reshape him. He couldn't allow that. He couldn't let anything they did get to him or make him forget how much he had to go back to.
He had to go back and tell Obsidian that he wanted to take them on a proper date. He had been waiting for them to ask since they were so sure of themself, but maybe that had been a mistake.
And then there were his friends. Wassail, Vista, and Seren. They would be coming after him. They had to. They would. And they would probably bring their mentors.
And Powell's mentor, Jade, would be coming too.
These people messed with the wrong person.
He smiled a little to himself, imagining the damage his friends, mentor, and Obsidian would cause when they came to get him. It would be fine. He could put up with a little torture before then.
He heard something in the hall and he waited, the power dampener cuff burning into his wrist as if to remind him how powerless he was here.
"Well, Dr. LeAnne. This is what we're working with."
That was the voice from before. The guy who was in charge.
"Take a good long look," Powell said. "I'm not going to be here long. You have no idea who you just pissed off."
The man laughed, joined by a woman's chuckle. "He reminds me of Alpha-2 before we broke him in," the woman said, presumably Dr. LeAnne.
"I think you'll find I'm made of sterner stuff," Powell retorted. "So, you're Dr. LeAnne. Who else am I dealing with here? I didn't catch your name before."
"Harry," the man said.
Powell chewed over that. Harry. The current CEO of Harry and Co Labs, then. That didn't bode well for Powell.
"Gotcha. Any last name?"
"Not anymore," Harry replied. "The business is cutthroat and we've found that identifiers like that can be somewhat distracting when it comes to our true goal."
"Oh, sure," Powell said in his 'talking reasonably to a client' tone. "I know how that is. That's why we all pick our vigilante names in the union. The EVU, you know. The people who are going to notice I am gone here in a minute."
"Chatty, aren't we?" Dr. LeAnne said, and Powell flinched back as he felt her hand glide back along his jaw toward his ear. There was something very claiming to that touch. It made Powell want to scream about getting out of there.
"Afraid so," Powell said, controlling his tone. He shouldn't have flinched. He couldn't show weakness here and it also made it hard to keep his balance when he did so. "Should have chosen someone else, sorry."
Dr. LeAnne chuckled. "I'm not worried. Your kind are so tough and prickly when you're able to get out your quips every so often. We have tools to train that out of you."
"You would not be the first to try and shut me up," Powell said. "I'm loquacious. Everyone from my grandmother to my EVU mentors have tried to train it out of me. They would warn you that it is a waste of time an effort."
"I don't think they were doing it right," Dr. LeAnne said brightly.
She ran her hand up his face and pulled the blindfold/headset contraption off.
Powell squinted, getting used to the light and looking between Harry and Dr. LeAnne.
Harry was a painfully normal looking businessman. His dark brown hair combed back, his pale skin without blemish beyond his calculating eyes and thin lips.
Dr. LeAnne was pretty in the way that a cougar was pretty. There was something predatory in her expression and they way that the curls of her reddish-brown hair fell perfectly from the tail she had them pulled back in.
"Well, well, well. Aren't you a pair," Powell said. "Good to see what I'm working with here."
Dr. LeAnne gave him a piercing stare, like she was examining the health of his organs through his skin.
He leaned toward her, despite the danger of losing his footing. "Take a picture. It will last longer. Especially with my friends coming for me."
"Bold of you to assume your friends will be finding you," Harry said with a short laugh. "This is a new set of labs. Secretly purchased just for our plans involving you. We know you don't have any trackers on you, so you aren't going to be found that way, and we were not followed in the least. We have ways of ensuring that."
Powell just smiled. They had no idea he was friends with Seren, then. Seren's ability with finding people and objects was wildly impressive, and had been kept carefully under wraps.
"We'll see," Powell said, enjoying the slight consternation that crossed Harry's face.
Dr. LeAnne glanced at Harry and said, "The first part of training is rather intensive and hands on. Do you want to handle it."
"Why, yes. I think I do," Harry said. He only had eyes for Powell stung up from the rafters, so he didn't see the glee in Dr. LeAnne's face. Harry had played into her hands, somehow. Powell wasn't sure how yet, but he was certain he would be able to figure out what that was about and play them off of one another soon enough.
Powell smiled at Harry. "Bring it on."
Dr. LeAnne left and Harry called in some people who rearranged the room, setting up a chair and then unhooking Powell from the ceiling. They didn't undo the harness, instead hooking it into the chair.
Smart. Powell had no doubt he could have made a run for it if they had just taken the harness off.
Once in the chair, there was a lot of hustle and bustle as machines were brought in and arranged along the walls as well as tables and cabinets. It felt as though they were trying to build a doctor's office around him, which would have been more entertaining if he hasn't been mentally prepping for what was about to happen.
Finally, a machine was lined up next to his chair, complete with wires, cords, electrodes, and dials.
"Mm, fun," he said, looking it over and trying to guess its purpose. "This all for me?"
"That it is, Powell. That it is."
"Let's do this," Powell said, cracking his neck.
Harry watched as a scientist of some kind approached, applying sensors to his body. The nice thing about the harness was that they couldn't get to much of his torso. The bad thing about it was how much focus that put on his neck and face.
And scalp, it seemed.
"Oi," Powell barked when another worker approached with a set of clippers. "Torture is fine, but shaving my head bald is a low blow. Do you even know how slow my hair grows?"
"We don't need to worry about things like that, anymore, Powell," Harry said as the worker started shaving, "And remember, it doesn't always have to be this way. I want you to understand what will happen to you should you disobey me from here on out."
Powell snorted. "I suppose now is the time to indulge in my masochistic tendencies, then."
Harry gave him a tight smile and signaled to the worker by the machine as the last diode was applied to his bare scalp.
The girl standing by the machine turned the dial up without a moment's hesitation, her eyes hungry as pain lanced through Powell's neck and head.
He threw his head back in a silent scream, the pain seeming to last for hours before it was turned off. He gasped for air until he caught his breathe and looked up to see Harry watching him for his reaction.
"That all you got?" Powell asked despite himself.
That was not, in fact, all Harry had in store for the vigilante.
Part 41
A.N. - Broskies, I cannot wait for you to meet Obsidian!! And for Alpha-2 and Powell to properly interact. This is going to be so vibes! And of course, how long is it going to take for Powell's friends to actually find him? Hopefully it's not too late >:)
Leave a comment of reblog if you are so inclined :3
In Rowan’s dream the Erinyes clawed at his face. He could feel blood pouring over him, obscuring his vision. Head wounds bleed a lot. Rowan tells himself because its easier to focus on that than what this is. Hands press over the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Rowan tries to blink up at the face but its blurry and so hard to focus. Its Atticus helping him, though, Rowan knows that. “Don’t, kitten. Don’t. You don’t want the blood on your hands.” He tries to push Atticus away and cover the wound himself, but then the dream begins again.
Rowan wakes, breathing heavy. He’s hot and sweating. The sheets feel restraining around him. He tries throwing them off when something drips down his face. He sits up, staring at the black drops that starts to pool and soak through the sheets. Not black, Rowan realises. Dark red. Blood.
Fuck. Rowan presses a hand over his face, only now registering the pain. Fuck. He isn’t sure how bad the cut is. Not as bad as in his dream, not as bad as it would have been for Zane, but its still there and bleeding. Fuck. Rowan turns his back on Atticus, hoping his boyfriend is still sleeping and hasn’t noticed him wake. He doesn’t want Atticus to see this. Zane either. Hopefully Celia Rae is around and can heal it soon.
Private Charles Ritter, Private, Company B, 107th Pennsylvania volunteers, who received a gunshot wound to his head at the battle of Southside Railroad, Virginia on March 31st, 1865. He developed an infection that caused severe inflammation. Patient recovered with an altered mental state. Attended by Dr. J.C. McKee. Caption reads: “Gunshot fract. of inf. maxilla. Erysipelas ensuing. Pvt. Chas. Ritter Co. B. 107th Pa.”
colorized photo of a World War One soldier healed from facial injuries. He likely received plastic surgery, which was a new medical technique at the time.
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