★ VOCAL CHORDS !
WORD COUNT: 2,790 CONTENT WARNINGS: medical horror, forced medical procedures, non-consensual experimentation, psychological abuse & manipulation (gaslighting + threats + power imbalance), gore & injury detail (coughing blood + throat damage), loss of bodily autonomy, implied captivity/kidnapping, laboratory setting. CHARACTERS: kara, clare (lab au). PROMPT: vocal chords (from @febuwhump 2025). AUTHOR'S NOTE: super late submission because i can't do anything on time. anyway, i got super attached to this prompt and ended up whittling away at it over my birthday weekend. pretty proud of how it turned out!
Most days, Clare keeps her head down. It’s safer that way.
She knows all too well where senseless defiance will land her—tied up in the depths of the facility, so drugged up that she can hardly think, covered in cuts and bruises and burns, every nerve in her body ablaze with agony.
Not long ago, she would have seen that as a fair exchange for her dignity; better to suffer aloud than to be shunned into silence. To give into the intimidation is to strip herself of her voice. To surrender the final pieces of her individuality to the facility’s greedy hands. She doesn’t want that. She can’t allow that.
She can bear the pain because it’s worth it. She can bear the pain because it means she’s still alive.
But as time drags on and the weeks begin to bleed into each other, she begins to realize that such a mentality is fostered by blissful ignorance. It is not that she hadn’t felt true pain before now. Rather, it is that her pain served a purpose back then—battle-wounds and broken bones, righteous and invigorating, all on her own terms. She had yet to encounter truly senseless violence. Pain for the sake of someone else’s pleasure.
There’s nothing she can do to make them stop. She’s powerless here, as much as she loathes to admit it; resistance only worsens their treatment of her. They don’t want information. They don’t want power. They don’t even want her. Just her suffering, and her well-honed tolerance for it.
She’s unwilling to give them what they want. That part of her remains intact. The quieter she remains, the less amusing she becomes, turning her silence into a deliberate act of rebellion.
Because make no mistake, it is still rebellion. They have not won. Though her anger has been worn down into a quieter, more docile form, it still simmers beneath the surface, white-hot. She swallows it to the best of her ability, but some nights, it becomes too much to stomach.
Tonight is one of those nights.
She was already pissed. The whole day had been a nightmare—bad food, worse treatment, and Kara, as always, was lurking on the edges, just to make it worse.
The Headmaster is in the cell block the moment curfew is called, observing the guards as they settle her favorite specimen in for the night. Her noxious gaze bores into the back of Clare’s skull, making her skin crawl.
She tries to ignore it. It’s all she can do.
When she passes the cell next to hers, she sees the man who shares it sitting by the glass. She’s grown acquainted with him in recent weeks. He’s good-hearted and sensitive, deserving of a far better fate than this. When she catches his gaze, her lips twitch up in a rare, quiet smile. "Night," she mumbles softly.
Whatever brief happiness she had vanished the moment a gruff voice sounded behind her, accompanied by a harsh shove to her shoulder.
"Move it."
A guard. One she unfortunately recognizes. An older, bitter man with a wrinkled face and an unyielding sense of superiority, despite not belonging to any sort of important rank, as far as she can tell.
Don’t give him what he wants. Be quiet. Be quiet.
Clare’s chest burns with indignation.
Suddenly, she whirls around to face him, posture straight, gaze narrow. "I’m not doing anything. I’m just saying goodnight to someone who’s right here!"
She gestures with her organic arm as she speaks. The guard roughly grasps her wrist, gloved fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. "You are standing around and wasting time. Go to your cell."
She barely has time to react before another guard steps forward, grabbing ahold of her arm, attempting to drag her along.
"Hey!" Clare protests, stumbling forward. "Oh my god, I’m going! Just let me fucking walk!"
She tries to pull away, but the grip only tightens.
A swarm of them appears out of nowhere. Over a dozen hands clamber onto her body, pushing, pulling, shoving. Panic rises in her chest.
"Get your damn hands off me—!"
They don’t listen, continuing to force her forward.
She feels it clawing at her throat, an ugly cocktail of terror and rage, ready to spill over and consume her. But before she can snap completely, a sharp voice cuts through the air.
"What’s going on here?"
Oh, no.
Clare freezes up at the sound of Kara’s voice, a deep fear settling in her chest. Her heart stutters, and she begins to breathe hard.
You’re a fucking idiot, Clare. You knew she was here.
"This one was giving us trouble—"
"I wasn’t."
The guards hold Clare firmly in place. She keeps her gaze downcast, refusing to look directly into Kara’s hollowed-out eyes, but she can still see the familiar, towering silhouette in the corner of her vision, creeping forward, head tilted, tail swaying.
She reluctantly, but inevitably, casts a glance in her direction. She expects to find anger there, but instead, she is greeted by a smile, wide and sharp-fanged. As if she was expecting— no, hoping for this.
The demiguardian begins to panic. She loses all restraint, and spews without thinking.
"I- I didn’t do anything wrong!" She repeats, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. "I was just walking!"
Kara saunters closer, her grin mellowing into a sly, knowing smile. Her tail swishes behind her, not unlike that of a playful cat’s. Clare shrinks back instinctively.
"Well, you clearly did a little more than that," she purrs, tone honeyed and overtly patronizing, "because my guards seem very scared…"
Scared? Is she serious? Clare grits her teeth so hard her jaw aches.
"Oh, fuck you," she snaps, the words tumbling out before she can even think about them. She doesn’t know why she’s saying it—why she’s pushing—only that her chest is tight, her breathing is too fast, and her entire body is thrumming with fury. "We both know that’s bullshit!"
Kara’s eyes widen in surprise.
"What, did I breathe too loud? Was I standing aggressively? Oh, yeah, that’s scary! You better lock me up!" She tries to wrench herself free again, but the hands only grip harder, biting into her skin like steel shackles. She’s getting nowhere, but she continues to thrash and writhe. "Maybe I should start crawling everywhere! Would that make you fuckers happy!?"
The sheer absurdity of the statement seems to jolt Kara out of her shock-induced stupor. She tosses her head back and laughs, loud and hyena-like. "HAH! What has gotten into you tonight?"
Clare’s head is spinning and she feels like she might faint. But the anger keeps pushing through the haze, clawing its way up her throat like bile. "You think this is funny!? You think any of this is funny?!"
Kara’s laughter tapers off into a playful titter. "Yeah, kinda!"
She’s shaking. It’s becoming harder and harder to feel her own body.
"God, you are such a loser." She snarls through gritted teeth, her chest heaving with each unsteady breath. "You need to check your fucking ego."
The scientist’s smile begins to look more like a grimace. "Mm. You really need to learn when to shut up, you know."
Clare’s heart slams against her ribs. She should stop. She knows she should stop.
"At least I had a life before all this. The hell’s your excuse?"
One of the guards yanks on Clare’s arm, attempting to pull her away from the confrontation. "Stop." His voice is quiet and hurried, almost slightly afraid. "Stop it now."
She doesn’t listen to him. "You couldn’t hack it up there, so you had to do all this just to feel like you matter? Wow, yeah, keeping a bunch of helpless people under your thumb—real impressive shit! You're amazing, doc."
Clare finally looks Kara in the face, and is instantly taken aback by how still she’s become. Posture stiff, eyes unblinking, expression teetering between confusion and something she can’t quite pin down. Something cold, and distantly angry.
Clare’s heart sinks. Oh, she fucked up. She fucked up real bad.
Suddenly, Kara begins to laugh again. Shrill, maniacal laughter. Clare physically recoils from it.
"Ohoho! Oh, oh wow, you’re so bold!" She beams, grinning ear-to-ear as she leans forward, hovering mere inches from Clare’s face. "You never fail to amaze me." She then pulls back a bit, exhaling dramatically. "But… you really do need to start learning some manners. That mouth of yours is gonna get you into big trouble soon!"
She’s not mad? Clare blinks, visibly puzzled.
She watches as Kara’s grin softens into a smirk, watches as her eyes narrow, her tail swaying mischievously behind her. She shifts her attention to the guards, gesturing openly with a clawed hand as she speaks: "Sedate her."
"Wait, what?!"
The guards react immediately. Two of them twist Clare’s arms behind her back. Another dialogues a tranquilizer from his belt. Her panic explodes from her control. She begins to flail violently, attempting to toss them off her like an angry racehorse, but the moment one hand slips, another clamps down. She watches as Kara disappears amidst a sea of men in uniform, closing in around her. She feels like she’s about to drown.
"Stop!" She shrieks. "Get the fuck off me! Get off–!"
She feels a sharp jab in the side of her neck. She tries to pull an arm free, to swat it away, but her body gives out almost instantly. Her muscles go slack. She would’ve crumpled to the ground had the guards not caught her, supporting her weight. She tries to speak, but only a groan comes out. She’s dizzy, head swimming, seeing double. She can’t move, can’t talk, can’t see…
Before she knows it, she’s passing out.
. . .
She wakes up in pain.
Her throat aches. Not just the usual soreness, either—it feels bruised, raw, like something is scraping against her windpipe. She tries to swallow it down, but that only makes it worse.
The sterile scent of antiseptic burns her nose, and it takes a moment for her vision to adjust to the fluorescent light overhead. She’s in… well, not her cell. Probably the infirmary, or a testing lab. She can’t really tell.
Just then, something shifts in her peripheral.
"Oh, you’re finally up!"
She’s struggling to keep her eyes open, but she knows that voice in her bones.
Kara.
Clare barely has time to register it before Kara is leaning over her. She’s grinning, the harsh, fluorescent lights reflecting off her metallic teeth, her neon eyes alight with unmistakable glee.
"How are we feeling?" She chirps. "Go on, say something!!"
Clare blinks blearily. Her breath shudders as she swallows against the raw, aching tightness in her throat. Slowly, she tries. "...What... the fuck..."
Her voice is barely there, just a suppressed, raspy whisper. A pang of anxiety strikes her heart.
"Yes!" Kara exclaims, clapping her hands together. "It worked, it worked!! Oh, you sound perfect. Keep talking!"
Panic stabs her chest. Her fingers twitch, her breaths growing quick and shallow. She stares up at Kara, wide-eyed, her mind slowly dragging itself out of the thick, drugged fog. This… isn’t normal. Something is really, really wrong.
No, no, this can’t be what she thinks it is. There’s just no way! She sucks in a breath, and tries again.
"Kara, what did y—"
Pain explodes in her throat before she makes it past the first syllable. It’s so much worse this time, immediate and brutal, clamping down on her esophagus, strangling her from the inside. Her body reacts in blind panic—her hands fly up to claw at her neck, blunt nails digging into the stitches there, trying to rip them open. To free herself from the invisible hands are tightening around her throat, ripping into her vocal cords, burning through her flesh—
Oh god, it’s not working. She can't breathe. She can't breathe. She can't—
"Hey!" Large hands seize Clare’s wrists, pinning them at her sides. Kara is shouting in her face, scolding her, disapproving. "You’re going to mess up my handiwork!"
After what feels like an eternity, the pressure releases, and Clare collapses against the bed, wheezing and shaking, vision blurring. The taste of blood tinges the back of her tongue.
She barely registers the feeling of Kara’s hands withdrawing, followed by the sound of her sighing.
"That was too loud, 334." Her identification number. Kara knows—and often uses—her real name, so that feels like an insult. "If you do that again, you’ll hurt yourself! Try again, but softer this time."
The words sink in slowly, worming their way under her skin. Too loud. Hurt herself.
She swallows nervously, staring up at Kara. Very slowly, she tries to whisper. "...Why…"
It comes out weak, but clear. Without pain.
Oh, no.
Her stomach twists violently. The realization crashed down onto her like a frigid wave, suffocating in it’s own right. Whatever this is, this… device, that’s embedded in her throat, it’s restricting her voice. Keeping her quiet.
Her breath shutters as tears well up in her one good eye. Her fingers twitch against the stitches that contour her larynx. What is she supposed to do now?
Her spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a playful snicker from Kara. "See, you can learn!”
"I…" Clare tries to talk again, but she feels a pinch at the front of her throat, and quickly stops herself, terrified.
Kara continues to giggle, tiny and girlish, as she looms over her victim. "Y’know, I was going to just punish you the old-fashioned way," she muses, tapping a clawed finger against her chin, "but that never works on you, does it, 334? So, I thought I’d use this as an opportunity to try something new!"
Her chest is burning with rage and sorrow both. Her entire body is trembling.
"It’s a fun little invention, isn’t it? A vocal suppression implant." Kara makes a gesture with her hands. "Keeps ya nice and polite for me. Hehe!!"
Clare doesn’t believe this. Her mind won’t accept what’s happening, won’t let her understand. There’s just no way!
Her entire body is burning with barely-contained rage by the time she meets Kara’s eyes again. It’s written all over her face, no doubt. The lupine’s grin only widens in response.
She can’t let this happen to her. She refuses.
Clare forces her throat open and tries to yell…
But agony rips through her instantly, worse than before. The implant snaps shut with a force so brutal it sends her body into shock. She’s seizing up, curling over, clawing at her throat, gasping for air. She coughs, violent and involuntary—
And blood sprays past her lips.
It floods her mouth, warm and metallic, splattering down her face with each desperate wretch.
Oh god, it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. She can barely register Kara’s hands catching her face, steadying her.
"Calm down." The scientist’s voice is sharp and serious, having suddenly dropped an octave or two, turning it into a harsh rasp against the shell of the demiguardian’s ear.
Clare’s breath hitches, her body shivering violently. Her entire mouth tastes like blood. It’s dribbling down her chin, staining her skin, her shirt, the bedsheets.
Eventually, she hears Kara sigh. Her grip relaxes, and she begins to stroke a thumb alone Clare’s scarred face, smearing blood along her jaw.
"So fierce…" she coos gently. "I do hope you know I admire that about you. It’s not that I want to silence you, that’d be boring, but… you must learn to behave, especially around me."
Clare can’t answer. She’s too busy sucking in desperate, gasping breaths, trying to stay conscious. Tears are spilling down her face. She barely notices them.
"Hey," Kara whispers, tilting Clare’s face toward her. "Wanna know a little secret?"
Clare stares up at her, vision blurring.
"This?" Kara taps a single, sharp claw against the implant. "This is fixable. I can take it out at any time."
Clare shutters. She isn’t sure if she should feel relieved or not.
"But what I can’t fix is ripped up vocal chords, which is exactly what you’ll be left with if you keep fighting against it." A short pause. Kara glances away. "I mean. I could fix it? But not in a way you’d like. I’d have to like, install a voice box in your throat, and you’d never sound like yourself again. Heh. That’d suck, huh?"
The way she talks about these things is so casual. It’s nauseating. "So…" Both hands are cupping Clare’s face again, tilting it up as her body begins to slump, overwhelmed with pain and misery. Black spots are forming in the corners of her vision, blotting out Kara’s sickly-sweet smile. "Why don’t you behave for me? Just for a little while…"
