Morgan Lang ✕ Max Guevara (notacode) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2020-02-09 15:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | cory guevera, morgan lang |
Who: Morgan & Cory
What: Flashbacks to Morgan's time in captivity and the origins of Veritas to the present
Where: The Manticore facility in Seattle, Washington / Cory's apartment in Queens, New York
When: Friday, July 13 2018 / Sunday, February 9 2020
Warnings: Vague mentions of torture and death
It hadn't taken as long as she'd expected to start losing track of the days. After a certain point, she'd stopped trying just to keep herself sane. If she didn't think about how long she'd probably been in here, then there was still a chance that she could get out. That they could all get out.
Rhett had died first. It had been the second week, and she'd started having seizures again. For days they'd done nothing but take the three of them into separate rooms to poke and prod them, push them to their limits over and over again until the exhaustion was overwhelming. X-5's could take a lot. They were engineered that way, but in the end, it didn't matter how built you were to withstand the things an average human would never be able to endure. Everyone has their limits.
When she wasn't being studied under a microscope, Morgan was mostly kept in a six by eight cell where she was given food, water, and not much of anything else. She barely slept, and when she did, her sleep was plagued with the worst kind of nightmares her subconscious could concoct. Someone else might have given into the sweet release of insanity a long time ago, and she might have, if it weren't for the only thing that kept her from ever going over the edge most nights. Cory.
Thinking about him existing somewhere outside of the walls that held her captive was the only thing that got her through the night most days, even focusing on the little things. His smile that was sometimes a little crooked, or the way the back of his hair always stuck up a little bit in every direction. Sometimes if she buried her face in the stale mattress that occupied her small room and concentrated hard enough on a memory, she thought she could actually remember the way he smelled.
Ryan died the night that they were both supposed to get out. Morgan had woken up that night with a start, a familiar face standing over her. Riley was urging her to get up, that Cory had gotten them inside but they had to hurry, the guards wouldn't be unconscious forever. They were being rescued.
The three of them had entered that place. Her, Rhett, and Ryan. Two of her closest friends. As close as family in some ways. In the end, it had only been Morgan who walked out. Some of the guards had come to, and Ryan turned back to keep them busy, allowing Morgan and the rest who'd come to their rescue time to make it to the fence line. Morgan hadn't wanted to leave him behind. She'd fought to stay, but she was weaker. When he never came back and they heard the explosion, she knew what had happened.
"Morgan?" She blinked, his voice sounding too far away from her to be real. It couldn't be. She was still trapped in that hell place, this was just a trick. She was finally going crazy.
Numb with shock and disoriented, it took Morgan a long moment to fully understand where she was. She was no longer in that cell, she was on Cory's couch. In Cory's apartment, where she was finally safe. Morgan looked up into his concerned face, chest swelling with relief in the midst of all the grief that had yet to really flow. Feet tucked under her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Morgan's eyes shone with tears that she refused to let spill.
"We have to get them, Cory. We have to make them all pay."