He had a name.
That was all he knew now, aside from the pain, aside from the fear, aside from the anger, all he knew was that he had a name.
It was the only thing keeping him sane. the only thing keeping him from being swallowed completely by the animal within. But it was hard not to give in. When all you had was a memory, one memory, and that only a name. Yet, it seemed to have worked. to the most part. He was still more of an animal than anything though.
.He had a name. And he would be damned if they took it away from him. That was something they could never take away from him. No matter how many times they pierced him, how many times they brought in those shock sticks that sent him reeling because of his adantanium he now knew nothing about, they could not, Would Not take his name. It was all he had left, his name. All he had left to grasp from his past life. He wouldn't give it up! They would have to kill him first.
He paced around his cell like a prowling cat, growling low and offensive whenever he turned. Occasionally, he would look out that Plexiglas wall for any intruders. for any of the bad people. They would come in threes now. after they had learned the hard way that he was still. an animal. And he had grown accustomed to the isolation, the pain of that searing hot shocking capability. what had they called it? Electricity? He didn't know anymore. He didn't care anymore. For all he knew he had been there all his life, and the pain was a natural part of life.
One of them passed, dragging a drugged mutant behind him by their collar, the mutant being an old one that had conveniently survived for the bad people's study. The collars were used to suppress their mutation, whatever it might have been; it was something he had on as well, and seeing it on another, made him want to tear it off his own neck because it made him feel like he was owned. Made him feel enclosed, but then again, that's exactly what he was, he was imprisoned here, but he didn't care anymore. He was too much of a savage animal to notice. What he did notice was that the guard was now outside of the Plexiglas and in his territory.
The guard had passed heading back to where he had come from, when his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He now was standing in front of the Plexiglas looking at the naked form, which was pacing like some sort of thing preparing for an attack. His eye line diverted to the heap of tattered cloth of the smock that had once covered this specimen. "So. you're the one they call Wolverine," he said as he rapped on the Plexiglas, and was slightly amused when the naked "animal" in the cell looked in his direction and snarled. In fact, he rapped on the transparent wall again, like a child would an animal they had never seen before, like a fish in an aquarium. "I've heard about you. Got away all those years ago, and here you are once again. You should've realized there was no way in hell you could escape us."
To that, the Wolverine blinked blankly, not knowing what the man had just said since he had no recollection of English anymore, not after being drugged, drained, and his mutation suppressed so he could not heal. Hell, he didn't even know he could heal; that was how bad they had erased his memory. even if it before had nothing much in it. Finally, he snarled, shaking his head as he went back to pacing the room with a darker, offensive mood; as if knowing he was supposed to understand what the bad one was saying, and he tried to ignore it, tried to ignore him; however, it was hard when that awful and strong smell of mingled arrogance and hatred was all over the man, and as it flared and circulated through his nostrils.
Seeing this, the guard only grinned maliciously once again, and rapped the Plexiglas like before. When he saw the control panel however, and the clipboard underneath it, hanging there, after the scientists had done their observations a week ago, he decided to check it out. Walking over there, he picked the clipboard off the wall and scanned the papers.
.Seems to be adjusting better than the first few weeks of being confined again. Now only paces back and forth in cell, using the hole for his facilities as he should and eats what we give him like that of an animal.
"Hmm. looks like you like to do that pacing a lot don't you mutie?" the guard breathed as he went back to reading the reports of the study with the mighty, animalistic Wolverine.
.the last few surgeries have been successful in removing a kidney every few months. Indeed, the profits of the organs have helped in heightening the suppression on his collar, after the first couple of days the sedatives would wear off. Next surgery shall be on.
"Oh. so we are the organ donor aren't we?" the guard mused over as he speculated it. Seemed sense enough; this mutie seemed to have the healing factor then. Wonder what would happen if he just shocked him a couple of times; since the mutant wasn't paying attention anymore, just giving more of a warning growl. He decided he should, besides, who really cared what happened to these mutants in Core 4? They were just not that hospitable or sedated as the others on the higher levels. In no way were they sedated enough on this level. This level belonged to the dangerous mutants, but that didn't mean he couldn't show this wretch of an animal where his place was.
Looking up at the control panel from the clipboard, John decided to do it how the others had done it to sedate him, to watch the mutant writhe and twist with agony because of what he had done. And it excited him to no end. Pressing a combination of controls only experienced personnel knew, he watched as metallic poles came at Wolverine from all sides. He watched how the mutant tried desperately to dodge them all, knowing full well what this meant, but no matter how much he tried, they all came at him again. And finally, they connected.
Hearing the howl of agony as the electricity was sent through his body, as it vibrated through his adantanium-laced bones, as the mutant fell to his knees in pain, gave John pleasure. Sick and twisted as it was, it was pleasure, ecstasy as the climax of a night making love, yet demented as the agony as some souls put themselves through as they slid the razor over their arms. It was sick. it was twisted. but John didn't give a damn. In no way in hell did he give a damn; for this was the best thing to watch. To watch whom he hated most, mutants, writhe and kneel down on the line between life and death, and took pleasure out of the fact this mutant was close enough to fall over on the side of permanent sleep.
The man within the cell could only let it happen. Let his adantanium-laced bones scream and sing in agony as the electrical currents raced through him. And without even knowing, let the howl escape his lips as he fell to his knees in pain. Let the whimpers echo in his throat as every muscle gave way and made him fall flat faced on the floor. Instinctively, he curled into the ball, wanting to will the pain away. Wolverine lied there not moving, falling on his chest after the electricity was gone, but the aftershock was not. He tried to catch his breath as the last few tremors shook his body violently. He could sense the guard's malice-filled pupils upon him, but his faint hearing caught the maniacal laughter that the best outside of the Plexiglas as he could only lie there. and be the victim of this life-style. But he knew; he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. No, he knew that this man, the animal outside of this cell would do again.. Maybe not again tonight, tomorrow night, or perhaps not even the night after that, but he knew that he would come back and do it again.
John chuckled evilly once more as he saw the movements of the Wolverine. He flipped the control panel's case back down and hung the clipboard where it was previously. With that taken care of, (not like anyone would care if this one had had anything done to him anyway) he rapped on the glass harder. And laughed whole-heartedly when the Wolverine only let a faint growl escape his throat as John walked away.
But what was worse, was that John did it again and again, almost every- other night, just to see the almighty Wolverine fall to his knees, watch him curl in on himself, and whimper as the pain slowly and with the torment beyond torment feelings receded.
However, unknown to John, Wolverine knew he had a name. He had this name, and no matter what these people did to him, he could never forget it. Unfortunately, now he remembered pain as well. All he had to do was remember he had a name. He had a name.
That was all he knew now, aside from the pain, aside from the fear, aside from the anger, all he knew was that he had a name.
It was the only thing keeping him sane. the only thing keeping him from being swallowed completely by the animal within. But it was hard not to give in. When all you had was a memory, one memory, and that only a name. Yet, it seemed to have worked. to the most part. He was still more of an animal than anything though.
.He had a name. And he would be damned if they took it away from him. That was something they could never take away from him. No matter how many times they pierced him, how many times they brought in those shock sticks that sent him reeling because of his adantanium he now knew nothing about, they could not, Would Not take his name. It was all he had left, his name. All he had left to grasp from his past life. He wouldn't give it up! They would have to kill him first.
He paced around his cell like a prowling cat, growling low and offensive whenever he turned. Occasionally, he would look out that Plexiglas wall for any intruders. for any of the bad people. They would come in threes now. after they had learned the hard way that he was still. an animal. And he had grown accustomed to the isolation, the pain of that searing hot shocking capability. what had they called it? Electricity? He didn't know anymore. He didn't care anymore. For all he knew he had been there all his life, and the pain was a natural part of life.
One of them passed, dragging a drugged mutant behind him by their collar, the mutant being an old one that had conveniently survived for the bad people's study. The collars were used to suppress their mutation, whatever it might have been; it was something he had on as well, and seeing it on another, made him want to tear it off his own neck because it made him feel like he was owned. Made him feel enclosed, but then again, that's exactly what he was, he was imprisoned here, but he didn't care anymore. He was too much of a savage animal to notice. What he did notice was that the guard was now outside of the Plexiglas and in his territory.
The guard had passed heading back to where he had come from, when his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He now was standing in front of the Plexiglas looking at the naked form, which was pacing like some sort of thing preparing for an attack. His eye line diverted to the heap of tattered cloth of the smock that had once covered this specimen. "So. you're the one they call Wolverine," he said as he rapped on the Plexiglas, and was slightly amused when the naked "animal" in the cell looked in his direction and snarled. In fact, he rapped on the transparent wall again, like a child would an animal they had never seen before, like a fish in an aquarium. "I've heard about you. Got away all those years ago, and here you are once again. You should've realized there was no way in hell you could escape us."
To that, the Wolverine blinked blankly, not knowing what the man had just said since he had no recollection of English anymore, not after being drugged, drained, and his mutation suppressed so he could not heal. Hell, he didn't even know he could heal; that was how bad they had erased his memory. even if it before had nothing much in it. Finally, he snarled, shaking his head as he went back to pacing the room with a darker, offensive mood; as if knowing he was supposed to understand what the bad one was saying, and he tried to ignore it, tried to ignore him; however, it was hard when that awful and strong smell of mingled arrogance and hatred was all over the man, and as it flared and circulated through his nostrils.
Seeing this, the guard only grinned maliciously once again, and rapped the Plexiglas like before. When he saw the control panel however, and the clipboard underneath it, hanging there, after the scientists had done their observations a week ago, he decided to check it out. Walking over there, he picked the clipboard off the wall and scanned the papers.
.Seems to be adjusting better than the first few weeks of being confined again. Now only paces back and forth in cell, using the hole for his facilities as he should and eats what we give him like that of an animal.
"Hmm. looks like you like to do that pacing a lot don't you mutie?" the guard breathed as he went back to reading the reports of the study with the mighty, animalistic Wolverine.
.the last few surgeries have been successful in removing a kidney every few months. Indeed, the profits of the organs have helped in heightening the suppression on his collar, after the first couple of days the sedatives would wear off. Next surgery shall be on.
"Oh. so we are the organ donor aren't we?" the guard mused over as he speculated it. Seemed sense enough; this mutie seemed to have the healing factor then. Wonder what would happen if he just shocked him a couple of times; since the mutant wasn't paying attention anymore, just giving more of a warning growl. He decided he should, besides, who really cared what happened to these mutants in Core 4? They were just not that hospitable or sedated as the others on the higher levels. In no way were they sedated enough on this level. This level belonged to the dangerous mutants, but that didn't mean he couldn't show this wretch of an animal where his place was.
Looking up at the control panel from the clipboard, John decided to do it how the others had done it to sedate him, to watch the mutant writhe and twist with agony because of what he had done. And it excited him to no end. Pressing a combination of controls only experienced personnel knew, he watched as metallic poles came at Wolverine from all sides. He watched how the mutant tried desperately to dodge them all, knowing full well what this meant, but no matter how much he tried, they all came at him again. And finally, they connected.
Hearing the howl of agony as the electricity was sent through his body, as it vibrated through his adantanium-laced bones, as the mutant fell to his knees in pain, gave John pleasure. Sick and twisted as it was, it was pleasure, ecstasy as the climax of a night making love, yet demented as the agony as some souls put themselves through as they slid the razor over their arms. It was sick. it was twisted. but John didn't give a damn. In no way in hell did he give a damn; for this was the best thing to watch. To watch whom he hated most, mutants, writhe and kneel down on the line between life and death, and took pleasure out of the fact this mutant was close enough to fall over on the side of permanent sleep.
The man within the cell could only let it happen. Let his adantanium-laced bones scream and sing in agony as the electrical currents raced through him. And without even knowing, let the howl escape his lips as he fell to his knees in pain. Let the whimpers echo in his throat as every muscle gave way and made him fall flat faced on the floor. Instinctively, he curled into the ball, wanting to will the pain away. Wolverine lied there not moving, falling on his chest after the electricity was gone, but the aftershock was not. He tried to catch his breath as the last few tremors shook his body violently. He could sense the guard's malice-filled pupils upon him, but his faint hearing caught the maniacal laughter that the best outside of the Plexiglas as he could only lie there. and be the victim of this life-style. But he knew; he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. No, he knew that this man, the animal outside of this cell would do again.. Maybe not again tonight, tomorrow night, or perhaps not even the night after that, but he knew that he would come back and do it again.
John chuckled evilly once more as he saw the movements of the Wolverine. He flipped the control panel's case back down and hung the clipboard where it was previously. With that taken care of, (not like anyone would care if this one had had anything done to him anyway) he rapped on the glass harder. And laughed whole-heartedly when the Wolverine only let a faint growl escape his throat as John walked away.
But what was worse, was that John did it again and again, almost every- other night, just to see the almighty Wolverine fall to his knees, watch him curl in on himself, and whimper as the pain slowly and with the torment beyond torment feelings receded.
However, unknown to John, Wolverine knew he had a name. He had this name, and no matter what these people did to him, he could never forget it. Unfortunately, now he remembered pain as well. All he had to do was remember he had a name. He had a name.