InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "you love riding it"

Vas Captio Mods (vas_captio_mod) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-11 12:04:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 15, dean winchester, experiment, leonard mccoy

Experiment: Dean Winchester and Leonard McCoy
Who: Dean Winchester and Bones McCoy
What: Enjoying the scenery
Where: An undisclosed location
When: Day 15, 8:00 AM
Rating: R. Explicit violence

Status: Complete

Good morning, subjects!

As Dean Winchester and Doctor McCoy wake up this morning they will find themselves strapped naked to metal exam tables. Above them, a blinding set of surgical lights prevents them from seeing directly above them. When Dean looks left he will be able to see Bones; as Bones will be able to see Dean.

No talking! Neither subject will be able to speak. You may grunt, you may groan, you may scream; but, you may not speak anything intelligible.

Hold tight, the doctor will be in shortly.

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hellsboy
2009-07-11 06:54 pm UTC (link)

The dream was one of the best he'd had since landing here in Vas Captio. No words could describe the montage of sights and sounds and sensations. He could have happily stayed in this dream for a good long time. Dean sighed with a smile and rolled over on his side. Wait. Why wasn't he rolling? His eyes didn't open immediately because he wanted to stay partially submerged in slumber in case it was possible to just go back to sleep and pick up where he left off.

Except there was a very strong something holding him down and now that he was rising to the surface of sleep, he could feel that he was also very naked. No morning wood, thank god. Damned red-eyed demon must've tied him down so he could steal all the food for himself.

Dean's eyes fluttered open and he attempted to shout a few obscenities but nothing more than a loud growl came out. He didn't have time to wonder at that as he was met with the sight of what? He could hardly see in the brightness. Artificial brightness. But Vas didn't have electricity. He tugged at his arms and legs, trying to find a way to free himself as his eyes became accustomed to the lights enough to see the man to his left, also naked and strapped to a table.

"Ugh! Arrrrrbuhhh!" he called to the man. What the fuck? "Ohhhhherrrrk." The Cajun obviously had nothing to do with this. This was what happened to him the last time, wasn't it? They'd taken him. Fucked with him and sent him back in with no memories and a tattoo. He hadn't thought they'd do it again after the reset but they had. Fuckers.

Except something was wrong. He shouldn't be conscious, should he? And who was that other poor man.

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justmybones
2009-07-11 07:15 pm UTC (link)

Doctor McCoy was dreaming of his first comparative anatomy class where they did their first dissection of a Klingon heart. The heart, replicated from Klingon DNA had never known what it meant to beat inside a chest or be corroded by plaque and fat, making it a perfect specimen; one never tainted by abuse. Bones lifted his scalpel and started on the right ventricle, separating the tissue carefully. "Look at that," he mumbled, his sleeping self wanting to echo but only managing "Lmmphsh-k."

Innately, the subconscious mind of McCoy perceived something was not right in the waking world. His eyes snapped open to be flooded by a painful, white light. He winched "Ugh?" He asked, more mutters to follow. With horror he realized he could not form any words.

He tilted his head right and then left, spying the poor naked bastard tied to the other table. Bones' eyes, bright green in the harsh light widened. There was someone behind the other man. "Ugh!" Bones cried. There was a man in a white surgeon's gown. The gown was streaked in red at the front. McCoy couldn't tell what the white clad man was doing, but he could hear the metallic twang of something on metal trays. "Argggggh!" He flexed against the restraints.

This couldn't be good.

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hellsboy
2009-07-11 07:27 pm UTC (link)

Maybe this is what it had been like last time. Maybe he had been fully aware through the entirety of whatever process they had done to him and then they'd just wiped his brain afterward? Dean swallowed hard and felt a pang of fear flutter in his chest. What was that sound? He hadn't noticed it before because he'd been struggling and trying to cuss and talk to the man on the other table. Now he heard it. Metallic scrapes and clatters of oh fuck.

Dean's eyes went wide in spite of the brilliant light. His pupils dilating painfully as he pulled and shrugged his arms and legs again, trying to free himself. He could see the man in white. The man who looked like a doctor. The man who was messing with surgical instruments over to the side.

But I'm awake! Dean thought. Right? I'm awake, yes. And they won't do surgery while I'm awake. That was only logical because no one did that kind of thing except in the movies, right? He breathed a bit more calmly now but he was still pissed at having been taken again. He wasn't about to let them screw around with his insides or whatever even if they did anesthetize him first. There had to be a way out and he would find it.

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justmybones
2009-07-11 07:42 pm UTC (link)

Dean was flailing, though, Bone's didn't understand why. He hadn't even looked in the direction of that white clad form. Maybe that other dude just didn't like being restrained. Maybe he just was reacting to the look on Bones' face. That could be it. Bones worked hard to calm down. He could feel his heart and it was practically beating out of his chest. The Surgeon stayed quite still on the other side of Dean, writing something in a chart.

With his eyes alone, trying not to make any vocal noises (what good were they, anyway?) McCoy tried to get his fellow subject to look over his shoulder, to see the surgeon and what he was doing. LOOK! the doctor's eyes said.

Clenching his fists he again tried to rally against the cuffs holding his hands at his side, the strap across his shoulders and waist, the restraint around his ankles. All he managed to do was grunt and breathe and heave. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. And all he could see was white light and a barbarian.

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hellsboy
2009-07-11 07:54 pm UTC (link)

Dean wondered if the other guy was thinking as clearly as he thought he was right now. They were in danger, sure, but there was always a way out. He'd find it and he'd get that dude out too. There must be somewhere in the straps that was weak enough to exploit until one or more of them gave way. The dude with the lab coat wasn't even paying attention no matter how much noise they made so it wasn't like he needed to be sneaky about what he was doing. How anyone naked, strapped to a table under intense light could be sneaky was beyond Dean anyway.

No, you had to get a sense of humor about all of this. Probably this was all just scare tactics anyway. Dean was slowly talking himself out of the fluttering of fear that continued to jump in his chest periodically as he felt the near complete immobility he'd been rendered into by the restraints he was under. Slowly calming himself in a way he wished he could do for the other guy too consider the dude was like wide-eyed and insistent about something. His eyes seemed to be warning or pleading and Dean couldn't see any immediate reason to be so frantic other than the guy had never been through being held captive before.

Not that it was old meme to Dean either but the doctor or whatever he was just wasn't doing a whole lot in the way of being threatening. Probably the jerks running this place wanted to study their response to this situation and that would be that. So he merely furrowed his brows at the other guy and made a demonstrative move to work at his bonds as though telling the dude that's what he ought to be worried about right now.

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justmybones
2009-07-12 02:03 am UTC (link)

Where Bones came from they didn't need to use straps. They used invisible fields of energy or paralyzing sedatives. Straps? Barbarism. Something told McCoy that barbarism was the precisely the point. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He couldn't speak, the bonds were tight, and it appeared like he was going to have to watch this stranger be tortured. He took a deep breath and shuddered.

There was a grinding of old wheels as a table was pushed from the wall to collide with Dean's table eliciting a clang that made the southerner jump a little. He didn't like thinking about this. Bones squeezed his eyes shut. Take me out first, don't make me watch... he thought, balling his hands into fists. Again his eyes popped open with just enough time to see the bloody doctor pulling on his gloves and readying his scalpel.

"Nuuuunguuuh!" He groaned, to no avail.

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hellsboy
2009-07-12 03:43 am UTC (link)

The other guy was really getting to Dean. There were just some things that you didn't panic about. Not being paid any attention to while being held captive for so long, even if you were naked! Well none of it was that big of a deal, really. Common sense told Dean that he was fine. He was going to get out of this one way or another because he'd either McGyver himself a way out or they weren't planning on a whole lot of anything other than psychological torture. Either way, he could handle it.

He thought he saw a crack in the strap holding his arms to the table. He started to work at his wrist in a certain way as to make the crack bigger and pull his wrist free. But something stopped him with a slow intake of breath. It felt like someone was close by now that hadn't been there before. He could feel the electricity that every body gave off unconsciously and the hairs on his arm began to stand up straight.

Except no one was there. That was just stupid. Dean pulled at the wrist cuff again for a breath and then suddenly he knew there was something hanging over him. His breath was coming back as though reflected and his heart pumped hard and fast with anticipation. His body knew something wasn't right even if he couldn't see it. Dean sucked in a deep breath and held it, waiting for something. Waiting for what? What the fuck was going on here?

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vas_captio_mod
2009-07-12 02:12 pm UTC (link)

From Dean's vantage he could see a surgeon, garbed in white with a mask that hid everything save the man's eyes, and heavily rimmed glasses took care of obscuring those. He was moving slowly, almost in a flickering manner from the wall behind Bones to the right up against the table that he was lying on. This surgeon tugged at his gloves then, making sure they were in place.

Taking a deep breath he locked eyes with Dean. The mask moved, and the surgeon's brow raised and fell. Dean could be certain that was a smile. Leaning over with his scalpel, the surgeon carefully dragged it over the bare flesh of McCoy's shoulder, a brilliantly red trail left in it's wake. Another slow cut, this time down McCoy's left side. It wasn't deep, the blood that seeped oozed, meaning it had only been a gentle touch to the capillaries.

Fun part, Dean, was that everything you just saw? You felt it, too. Well, you didn't just feel it... Look at your shoulder. See that cut there? If you could look at your side you'd see that slow, rolling trickle of blood there, too. Trust us, it's there.

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justmybones
2009-07-14 02:18 am UTC (link)

"Unnnnnggggguuuuuuhhhh!"

The sound was gutteral as it came from the Starfleet officer. He couldn't help it. It was the only thing he could do. Bones couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't see right, and now he couldn't even scream properly as the scalpel was dragged down his bicep and then over his ribs. He didn't know how deep it was, but he knew it was painful.

The physician twitched, spasming as he looked left and right, contorting on the table as he tried to find sight of what was cutting him, what was dragging what into his flesh. There came another slice, this time he saw it as it happned, a thick trail of blood running down his calf. HOW? he thought.

With instinct the doctor forced his attention to the stranger on the table beside him watched as the physician pressed the scalpel again. Another scream from bones. How was this even possible?

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hellsboy
2009-07-14 05:19 pm UTC (link)

Dean watched as the fucker walked toward the other man and smiled! What the hell was the guy playing at? The other dude wasn't under, wasn't - oh shit! The scalpel sliced the other man and Dean's shoulder had a momentary empathy pain. No, not momentary. It hurt like a bitch and when his eyes fell to his own shoulder there was a clean slice oozing a little bit of blood. How the fuck?

He tugged at his bonds and shouted garbled obscenities at the doctor. This couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare, wasn't it? It wasn't like Dean not to believe something was real but how else was he supposed to cope with this? Nothing in his life before had prepared him for anything remotely similar to this.

He wanted to get free and put an end to this but even that crack he'd thought he'd seen in his bonds had been illusion. With the pain in his shoulder he was focused enough to see clearly now that what held him back was impenetrable. For a brief moment he felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him but he shoved it away hard and fast as the next flick of the scalpel against the other man drew a sharp red line over his bicep and then his ribs.

He was caught so off guard by the deeper cut that he screamed. His voice sounded high and scared in his own ears as it was wrenched from him. Out of control. He had to rein himself in but his ribs burned white hot with pain. That fucker somehow managed to cut him while cutting the other man. This had to be a dream. One of those sick dream realities cooked up by the twisted mind of some demonic entity. He was supposed to break and give up, right? Not going to happen. Wake the fuck up, Winchester!

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justmybones
2009-07-15 01:16 am UTC (link)

Bones couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was watching as a surgeon pressed a scalpel into the unanesthetized flesh of a living being. Not only that, but the surgeon was smiling and moving carefully; as if relishing the pain he was causing. Though, this observation of Leonard's only lasted a few minutes as he realized the feeling in his shoulder and his side and his calf.

Bones heard the anguished scream from the stranger and he tried to bite back his own. Another round, another press of the blade. This time it was across his belly. The closest thing his scream sounded like was 'No.' Bones knew what a slice like this could do to a person. It could kill them. Quickly.

The Surgeon was pausing a moment, inspecting his cuts, pulling at the flesh and trying to get a better look at the world beneath the skin. It was like he was exploring. How? Why?

Bones found himself wishing he could pass out. His head listed to the left as he looked at Dean, his eyes fixated on the surgeon and not on his own skin that seemed to be victimized of it's own accord.

'It's all in your head,' he tried to convince himself. It had to all be in his head.

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hellsboy
2009-07-15 03:33 am UTC (link)

Dean felt his head grow light and his thought fuzzy. It was like he'd had too much to drink which hadn't happened in years. Winchesters held their liquor. But watching the dude in the white lab coat root around in the other man's abdomen made him want to vomit. That wasn't right. He wasn't squeamish. Why? Oh fuck.

Looking down at his own body, Dean could see the skin parting and the cuts rippling as though the psycho were looking into his anatomy. The sensation was beyond nauseating and the idea that someone would actually do something like that was worse than actually seeing it happen to someone else. Not worse than it happening to him. No, the skin had ceased to feel the pain and was now throbbing and sending grotesque signals to his brain.

Bile rose in Dean's throat and he gurgled, his eyes pleading with the other man. To do what? The other dude was being brutalized beside him! Did he think that was some sort of illusion too? Was that guy just a mirage of the pain being inflicted on Dean meant to give false hope of something? None of it made sense and all he could think of was wanting to get out of there and not knowing how.

Tears trickled into the corners of Dean's eyes before he could stop them and without his hands to wipe them away they forced him to blink, magnifying the light in his eyes. He screamed, this time a feral scream of frustration and anger, trying to kick his feet to no avail and suddenly his thigh slit open, tendons and muscles laid bare. There was no sound to the scream from his throat.

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justmybones
2009-07-15 02:38 pm UTC (link)

There was blood rolling over the edges of the cut, it was pulsing stream that was collecting on the table and rapidly cooling against the metal. There were holes in the tabletop, and the blood was flowing through it, down to drip to the floor beneath them where it collected in a drain and siphoned off elsewhere. Not that Bones really cared where his blood was going.

Hazel eyes slammed shut and squeezed painfully. Unfortunately, no amount of self inflicted pain could make the searing, burning, pulsing, ripping pain of the cuts that were striping his form go away. His shoulder, his arm, his cut, his leg; the cuts were crowing in number and frequency. Bones dared to peak at Dean, seeing the man was writhing in the similar fashion that he was. They were dead men, weren't they?

Leonard's hands clenched, digging his nails into his palms, drawing blood. He didn't think it was really possible, for a person to bring themselves to the point that they could squeeze blood from their own palm. It was something they did in movies; something that they made up. Yet, he'd one it. It didn't help.

Bones heaved, looking away from his fellow captive, the vomit coming up quickly and fiercely as it tore at his throat. The doctor sputtered, trying to breathe, feeling the slice across his middle split more. Another cut, this time up the bottom of his foot. Bones couldn't scream any more. He just laid there, limp. his spirit had been broken.

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hellsboy
2009-07-15 10:19 pm UTC (link)

There were latex encased fingers in his thigh. They moved around, pulling and rearranging. It felt wrong. Like something distant in the back of his mind. There was very little pain at this point. His body had either anesthetized itself in preparation for passing out or his mind had just stopped accepting the pain impulses. It was however freshly aware of the nauseating sensation of things that were never supposed to happen to any living human being while awake.

Whatever he'd eaten, the beans he'd had with Gambit this morning, seemed to curdle in his stomach and fought their way back up his esophagus. Dean coughed and spluttered. He could smell the warm, metallic scent of blood and taste its coppery sweetness in the back of his throat. That was the final straw. His silent screams became wet, frothy heaves ending in fits of coughs. He could feel his open skin rub against itself and his organs seemed to slosh around more freely.

He was going to die. Not because the asshole was cutting him and he was losing blood. No Dean Winchester, Captain Fantastic who ran around to save everyone, defending the innocent. He was going to drown to death in his own vomit.

No. Fuck this shit. He was not going down without some kind of fight. Eyes opening wider, Dean lifted his head as far as he could and spat out whatever he could get out of his throat and mouth. His eyes ablaze with renewed fury, he looked down his body to where fresh cuts were tracing lines above his kneecaps. Intending to holler the words, "When I die, I'm coming the fuck back to haunt your ass and drag you straight to hell, motherfucker!" he was only able a long garbled bray not unlike imitations of a gobbling turkey adults made for kids at Thanksgiving to amuse them. Whatever. The fucker knew exactly what Dean meant, Dean was sure of it.

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justmybones
2009-07-16 03:45 pm UTC (link)

Bones was thinking of medical school. He was thinking of the course they taught in basic anesthetics. The way the instructor had taught them about the proper use of anesthesia and how to avoid having a conscious patient. How, in that doctor's humble opinion, the greatest torture a surgeon could inflict upon someone would be to violate their bodies while they were fully comprending what was happening. At this moment, McCoy concurred.

Those probling fingers pushed skin and muscle and tissue aside and rammed themselves in where nothing but flesh was ever supposed to go. It took every single bone in the physician's body to make his head turn, just in time to see the other patient vomit there on the table beside him. "Unnngh," he moaned, trying to get the other's attention, just in time to hear the unintelligable groan from him. Bones could only imagine.

Another cut, this time up his foot again, between his toes, over the top. The incision was careful. Then came an odd slice around his bicep, a square. On Dean, the square would be around the 'expired' tattoo, the flesh picked off and removed. The doctor hissed. He was still feeling, he was still conscious. There was something keeping him awake because every bit of medical knowhow he had told him that he should have passed out long ago with that slit across his belly.

Good God in heaven... McCoy was starting to pray for death.

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hellsboy
2009-07-16 05:23 pm UTC (link)

Dean heard the other guy hiss and saw the fucker cutting his feet. Of all things that seemed like the worst thing possible. For some reason that was worse than anything in his mind. It made his own toes curl and he wanted to vomit again but he swallowed hard, forcing his eyes away to the face of the other man. The poor bastard. They had to get out of here. He couldn't stand anymore of this.

He was so intently focused on struggling his way free, the adrenaline flooding his system as though injected rather than natural, that the sensation of his tattoo being cut from his arm was merely a scratch and a pinch to him. He snarled loudly at the sight of it, momentarily frightening himself with how feral and animalistic it sounded. He was not completely human anymore, was he? Something had pushed him within a breath of that place where men go insane.

When the slice of the blade found the soft skin below his right eye in a superficial nick of the flesh, the fight suddenly left Dean's body entirely. He held so still, his breath caught in his chest, nostrils flaring with a sudden renewal of the fear he hadn't allowed to surface before. It was flooding him now.

In his mind's eye he saw himself naked and strapped to another table, this time face down as unseen hands did one spinal tap and lumbar puncture after another in between multiple slashes into his spine with a scalpel, severing and separating and filling him with the dread of knowing that if he didn't die from the amazing amount of pain and loss of blood, he would be completely paralyzed for the rest of his life.

Except they'd patched him up good as knew, stamped him expired and sent him back into the game for more horror. Dean's eyes filled with tears again. The tears mingling with the blood beneath both eyes as the skin beneath his left eye was nicked with the unseen scalpel. Right then the only thing he wanted was to die. But there was nothing he could do but endure. He could hear himself, as though he were outside of his body at some distance. Gurgled sobs wrenched from his throat and if he could have, Dean would have given up.

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vas_captio_mod
2009-07-31 02:44 pm UTC (link)

The surgeon gave pause, turning away from his subjects for the first time. He'd turn to a tray and pull up a large, long blade. With care, he'd push it into his subject's chests, cracking bones and tearing at all those necessary tissues. Lungs, heart, spine it'd rip through them all.

Finally the pair found themselves enveloped in darkness as consciousness was allowed to fade.

Goodnight, children.

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