A Test
Part two of my contribution to @zineofgid for 2024
Contains: demon whumpee and whumper, familial whump, multiple whumpers, hurt/no comfort, medical equipment, strapped to a table, mind control whump
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Ian wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t… He was just shaky for other reasons. He had been told Father had another test for him today. He hoped this one turned out better than the last.
He followed Reigns, his mentor, down the labyrinthian hallways of the laboratory. “Did he say what kind of test?” he asked.
Reigns sighed, “He didn’t. But even if he did, you know I can’t give you any hints beforehand.” He briefly shot back a sympathetic smile.
“I know…” Ian sighed in turn before continuing, “Still…sometimes I wish you wouldn’t listen to what he tells you to do. Certainly, someone of your abilities could stand up to him! You could-” He was cut short by a sharp glare from the older demon.
Reigns stopped walking and turned to a door, placing his hand on a panel next to it. “We’re here.” The door swished open and he gestured for Ian to enter first. He did.
The room was fairly small. There was a metal table with trays of equipment scattered around. It was a sight very familiar to him. Instinctively he walked to the table and hopped up, seated on the edge. He lifted off his shirt and tossed it to Reigns, who caught it swiftly. It was a very comfy shirt, which was a rarity, and he didn’t want it to get ruined by whatever was about to happen. He looked into the large mirrored glass separating him from the observation room.
The intercom crackled to life, “Ian, if you would lay down? Reigns will secure you in place. Do not resist.” It was his father’s voice. King Richard, ruler over all Hell. Ian did as he was told and lay down on the cold metal table, letting his arms and legs get into position as Reigns walked over. He secured thick leather straps around Ian’s wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. Again, nothing unfamiliar to him. When he finished, the intercom sounded again. “Thank you. Now, if Reigns would join me in the observation room, I will explain this experiment.”
Reigns nodded to the glass before briefly putting a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead kid.” He smiled softly and winked down at him before leaving through the door they had entered. Ian took a deep breath and steeled himself.
It took only a few moments for the intercom to buzz again. “Ian, this will be a test of your ability to rely solely on your abilities to ward off attacks, rather than being able to use them and your physical strength. There will be three people who enter your room. Each has been given an incentive that they will only get after significantly harming you. You are not to kill them, but you are to force them to disengage. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Father.” Ian nodded as best he could with the leather biting into him.
“Good boy. Then let’s begin.” The intercom clicked off. As soon as it did, Ian heard the door swish open behind him. Instinctively he went to shift to see the person who entered, but was held back by the restraints. He had to wait for them to come into view. He heard them come closer, picking up a piece of metal equipment he couldn’t see from one of the trays. Then they came over towards his head.
Standing in front of him was a stout woman in a green turtleneck and a bright white lab coat, her hair draped around her face flawlessly. If not for the scalpel in her left hand, he might’ve asked her out on a date. She had a deadpan expression as she said, “I hope you know this isn’t personal.”
“It almost never is.” He shrugged as best he could. And that was all the warning he got before she lurched forward and stabbed the scalpel into his shoulder. He bit his lip to stop the cry of pain and shock that threatened to escape. Without thinking, he jerked his arms before mentally kicking himself. She twisted the scalpel as she pulled it out. She shifted closer towards his chest, readying to make a real cut. Showtime…
A jet-black hand shot up from the floor and grabbed her wrist, wrenching it back in a crushing grip. She winced and reached with her other hand to grab the scalpel and stabbed down into Ian’s side, slicing downwards with as much force as she could manage. Ian’s dark gray blood began blooming to the surface. The shadowy hand still holding her snapped her wrist, breaking it.
The woman cried out in pain and let go of the scalpel in surprise. It clattered to the floor. In another instant several more jet-black and shadowy hands reached out from the wall and grabbed her, yanking her back against the wall. Then, a black spike pierced through her shoulder and, while curving upwards, rendered her immobile and unable to continue attacking.
With a clearly strained and angry voice, she called out, “I’m out! Next…”
Ian’s shadow hands and hook melted back into the wall, releasing her, and she quickly left the room.
Ian was breathing hard. The pain in his shoulder and his side was making it hard for him to focus, especially on so many shadows at once. He blinked a few times against the harsh white light above him making his skin tingle with pins and needles. He tried to steady his breathing.
He needed to be on top of his game.
He couldn’t fail.
Finally, the door swung open again. This time they didn’t waste any time, trying to take Ian by storm. It was a man this time, a man who rushed in and grabbed the heaviest piece of equipment he could and brought it crashing down against Ian’s leg.
This time Ian couldn’t prevent the gasp of pain that left him. The piece of metal came crashing down again, making him jerk against the restraints. If he took even just a few hits more, he’d have a broken leg for sure.
Ian gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Then, he focused and pried his way into the new assailant’s mind. The man paused at the sensation of his mind being invaded, but quickly lifted the metal again. In response, Ian quickly flooded the man’s mind, causing him to freeze mid-swing, hands trembling. Ian took deep breaths.
For several minutes they remained like that, Ian doing his best to hold his will over the man’s own, and the man fighting with everything he had. Eventually, though, the stalemate broke. The man dropped the equipment. He stiffly and slowly, as though being puppeted by invisible strings, walked over to the door and left in silence. Only being released from Ian’s influence once he was outside the room.
Ian took some deep breaths, focusing on the pain from the previous attacks grounding him back in his body. Puppeting others always took a lot of energy and made his body feel like static, but it was an incredibly useful skill. A skill only he and his father had.
Just when he was beginning to wonder when the next person would enter, there was suddenly an intense pressure in his head. It was dizzying and all consuming. His vision went in and out for a moment before the door opened. Now he knew who the third person was.
His father stepped into the room nonchalantly, as though he didn’t have his own son strapped down to a cold, metal examination table. Richard casually closed the door and turned his way towards the table, his cape swishing behind him. He strode forward, and with every step, Ian’s head pounded in agony.
He reached down and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Ian’s ear. “Impress me.”
Ian growled and snapped his head to the side trying to bite his hand. Richard frowned and jerked his hand away.
Ian focused on his breathing and pushed back against his father in his mind. Fighting for every inch of intangible ground. Eventually he pressed out of his own skull and pierced into Richard’s mind. There was a brief moment of relief until all he could perceive was a cheery children’s rhyme being repeated over and over. Richard started humming the tune as he picked up the scalpel.
Ian finally started to panic. He tried to push further into his father’s mind. Tried to force his own will. But the damned nursery rhyme was keeping him quite solidly blocked out.
He decided to change tactics. He pulled out of his father's head and instead went to create shadows to stop him. But, just as he did, an all consuming and piercing pain flooded his mind. Almost completely drowning out the pain of the first plunge of the scalpel to his chest. He waited for it to subside, before trying again. But the same thing happened. Through the pain he couldn't focus. He tried. He tried so, so hard. Tears welled in his eyes. Over and over he pushed past his limits. Until his father finally stopped carving into him.
He pulled back and called for Reigns to enter the room. Ian was holding back sobs, but when Reigns did enter, he heard his father command Reigns, “Treat everything but my carving. I want it to scar,” before he left without another word.
Reigns quickly began undoing Ian's restraints. “What does it say?” Ian asked meekly. Reigns remained silent and wouldn't meet his eyes. “What does it say!?” He flared. Reigns remained silent and simply helped Ian sat up.
In the mirror Ian saw his reflection.
“Failure” was written across his chest in his own black blood.
