Disclaimer: I do not own Pysch or any of the lovely characters from the show. I only wish I could lay any claim to them! I only claim my own OCs, and nothing else!
This is going to be the first in a long installment of the story "The Darkest Hearts of Men". I cannot thank enough the two people who've helped me in what I've written thus far: silverluna and redwolffclaw. Thank you two so much!
I Hope you enjoy the first chapter, I know I'm loving it!
What the hell happened? And what in God's name is that damned beeping?
Lassiter's head was reeling, and he debated for what felt like hours before he finally decided to open his eyes, an action he immediately regretted, when his line of sight was flooded with blinding light; the beeping inexplicably increased. He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut once more, forcing himself to rely on his other senses for the time being. He cocked his head towards the sound of the beeping, and focused in on the slowing rhythm. He took a deep breath, calming himself, becoming centered. He slowed his breathing, really focusing in on the source of the beeping…which was…slowing down?
He shook his head, clearing his mind. Focus! What else do you know? He began testing each of his muscles individually, and felt satisfied that, at least as far as he could tell, nothing was injured. He tried lifting his hand to his face to access the pounding in his head, and he received awareness that his arm was tied to the arm of the chair he was sitting in. He tried his other arm, and his legs; nothing.
He couldn't move.
His eyes shot open once more, his brain ignoring the pain that the blinding light brought once more. He looked down at himself: his arms and legs were strapped to the arms and legs of a white, metal chair by thick leather bands, and his shirt was open, allowing him to see wires stuck to his chest. He traced the wires to a monitor a few feet from himself-a heart monitor. Panic began its slow creep back into Carlton as he took in the full magnitude of the situation: he was completely restrained in this chair. The stark white light threatening to puncture his retinas illuminated what appeared to be an immaculately clean clinic room. To the left of Carlton, there was a long, white card table that held various trays full of surgical tools, and…maybe a defibrillator?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Immediately in front of him, there was another chair, just like the one he was in, white and metal. Beyond that there was about five feet of shiny, white flooring, and a white wall, with a white door, and above the door, a white security camera. Everything was white, and bright, and immaculate. And Carlton couldn't help the shudder that ran down his spine.
In the midst of taking in the rest of his white surroundings, he picked up footsteps and bickering beyond the white door. The sounds got progressively louder, until it peaked, and it fell silent. He heard the click of a sliding bolt in the door, and two men wearing masks came through the door.
The same pricks from last night. Carlton's jaw clenched, and his lips pressed together as the memory of the previous night washed over him. His lips turned up at the corner when he saw that one of them was struggling to keep his gait normal as he walked. At least I didn't make it easy for them. The memory of his miniature triumph was enough for Carlton to steel his mind, back into the mindset of the cocky, head detective of the SBPD that he was every day. He followed the two men as they came towards him. The uninjured one wavered in his advance; Carlton narrowed his eyes, staring him down. The gaze that met his own was not what he was expecting. They were nervous, scared, and searched his own eyes for forgiveness. With a closer look at what little the mask allowed him to see, he realized he was looking at a kid, barely out of high school, if that. The boy broke eye contact with Carlton to shoot a glance at the other man, before diverting his path to the white card table with the various trays of instruments. The head detective turned his gaze to the second of the two, the one he'd managed to clip the night before. He threw the man a smug half-smile, stopping the man in his advance.
"Somethin' ticklin' you over there?"
Carlton let out a small snort, "Oh, just enjoying the view of a piece of scum in pain." The man lunged at him, covering the few feet of space in one bound. Grabbing Carlton's throat with a large hand, he shoved his face barely an inch away from Carlton's, the hot breath from him eliciting an involuntary shudder from Carlton. The hot, sour breath threatened to choke him, and he could feel his throat trying to gag crushed under the man's grasp.
"You think it's funny? Well, laugh while you can, pig, cause from here on out, I'm the one that's goin' to be havin' all the fun." His voice was deep, pouring from his mouth like thick venom, enveloping Carlton in a sinister fog. The man's expression turned from anger to amusement as he cupped a hand to his ear and turned his head toward the heart monitor, "Hear that, pig? I'm already getting' to you, and the real fun ain't even started yet."
Carlton jerked his head from the man's grip and silently cursed the monitor for betraying his fear. He was going to have to be more careful about controlling his reactions. The man continued to watch him as he steadied himself before lowering down in the chair opposite Carlton. His injury must have flared up after rushing me. Sick fuck. He was inwardly satisfied, but was careful to keep that emotion hidden, as any emotional shift obviously had an effect on the man. The boy now made his way over to Carlton, wires in hand. Carlton broke his glare with the other man to stare at him. Kid or not, he's still a criminal, he reminded himself, pushing down any sympathy he had for the boy. He was hesitant in his approach, pausing before he hooked up the wires onto two probes attached to the middle and lower left of Carlton's chest. They watched each other for a moment, when his partner broke their silence. "Everything ready yet?" The boy jumped slightly, whisking around to face the man, "Yes bro, whenever you're ready."
A sick grin slowly spread over the brother's face, his eyes practically glowing with anticipation, sending more involuntary shivers down Carlton's spine. Carlton immediately felt panic at the forefront of his mind, but decided to mask the feeling by throwing some verbal jabs at the man. While I still can…
"Do you get some sort of sick pleasure out of this? Is that what this is all about?"
The man sat up straight, bending forward slightly. "Why, detective, where are my manners? You are the guest of honor after all!" He bellowed, raising his arms in a mock welcome.
"Let's get the inter-ductions out'the way, hm? You may call me Akhos, and my brother 'ere, Ania. This is my lecture hall, and you-"he emphasized with a pointed gesture straight at Lassiter's chest, "Mr. Head Dee-tehk-tiv Carlton Lassiter, will be out grand com-pan-dium - the chief reference guide for all members of the esteemed SBPD."
Lassiter had unconsciously allowed his expression to fall into one of confused annoyance. Who was this guy? Akhos and Ania? Seriously? He read like a villain straight from a cheesy mystery novel. "What on God's green earth are you talking about? Am I supposed to be taking this seriously?"
Carlton couldn't help a swell of amusement when he saw that his captor's face dropped from his previous grandeur and contorted into one of rage and annoyance. "I assure you, Detective, there ain't no reason t' doubt me." He kept eye contact with the man while doing his best to hide the shivers that were being sent through his body. He was doing his best to try and keep an appearance of nonchalance, throwing around his usual interrogation banter, but one look over to the kid caused him to pause his mockery of the other man. The sheer panic that was on the kid's face, in his very eyes as he ever-so-slightly shook his head at him, eyes pleading with him to stop his attack. But whatever warning Carlton felt, he knew that he could not allow this man gain the edge over him.
Carlton rolled his eyes, "Oh, well, since you've assured me . . ." His gaze settled onto Akhos. "What sad, obscure symbolism am I supposed to be drawing from that name you've given yourself? Hmm? Akhos? Because I'm drawing a blank here. My 'pathetic-over-inflated-ego-psychopath-lingo' is a little rusty." He raised n eyebrow at Akhos, whose face was frozen with rage. But, his face fell, sighing and shaking his head. Carlton's stomach twisted as the man's face drew into a ghoulish sneer, voice returning to a venomous drawl. "Oooh Detective, you've got so much fire in you. That's going to make this much more fun. But alas," Akhos paused for a moment, his whole body stiffening as he shrugged in mock sincerity, "you interrupted my welcome, and that, you'll deeply regret. But all in good time. Everything, in good time." He snickered callously, "And you," he added, "have nothing but time to spare."
The man stood, confidently, making his way around Carlton, with no hint of the injury that previously hindered him. Carlton averted his gaze, steeling his eyes on the white wall in front of him, jaw clenched. When he was behind Carlton, he steadied himself on the back of his chair, leaning over him as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small knife. Carlton emotions were deadlocked in a race between his fear and his rationality as the man's looming physical presence began to overwhelm him. He tried to appear as undisturbed as possible, his steel blue eyes never straying from their fixed position on the wall in front of him, jaw clenched tight.
"Simple things, knives." Carlton could hear him licking his lips as he caressed the sheathed blade. "They've remained more or less unchanged throughout the ages. Become more sophisticated, sure, sure, but the actual utility of them?" He cocked his head and let out a small huff, turning his transfixion onto Lassiter. "Man's been using 'em for thousands of years to hunt down their prey—t' make 'em . . . squeal." He drew out that last word; savored it.
Do not give into him. Do not let him get to you. It's exactly what he wants. Carlton tried desperately to keep his training in the forefront of his mind, to harden and ignore the fear gaining ground inside him. His breathing began to quicken, and he clenched his jaw shut even tighter, feeling his teeth grind together. The man came around to Carlton's side, pushing his body into him, his face right in front of his own, his gaze transferred from the knife, to directly to Carlton's eyes.
"However, only recently, within the past hundred years or so, have we gained the medical knowledge to make these truly effective in the art of information extraction. We now know exactly where to cut, how deep, how long, while still keeping a person alive and conscious." He watched the fire dancing behind Akhos's eyes. No longer able to ward off the internal feelings of dread as he recognized the dark determination behind his captor's eyes.
"You want—information from me?" Carlton couldn't help the slight waver in his voice, and he cursed himself for stammering over his words.
The man turned, directly over him now, slithering his knife to Carlton's belly, the hot breath in his ear making Carlton cringe as he drawled in a low purr— "Oh Detective, you just wish that's what I wanted."
Carlton gasped as he felt the knife pierce his belly.
TBC
I promise in the next chapter, things will begin to make sense! I should be updating every day or so for the next week!
Please leave me a review if you've read this and felt anything about it! I'd really love feedback from you!