Just a dime store poet, keeping pace, talking his face blue. Walk passed the dance floor.
Two dollar store tramps, to get a glance, a new chance at you.
It's always been a dear friend of mine.
Cut calls and concubines.
Dancing in four four time.
Everything was quiet, even the ticking of the clock seemed to be muted. It was dark, no light in the room besides the blinding lamp that washed him in light, giving him a headache as he strained to listen to the sounds in the otherwise empty room. The marine's jaw worked as he pulled against his bonds, feeling the strength drain from his limbs he panted and laid back on the cold table. Tank closed his eyes in thought, where the hell was he? He wasn't anywhere he knew he was supposed to be, the place reeked of medicine and blood and his gut told him he needed to run as far away from here as possible. Was he afraid? Hell no, he was a hardened marine who had gone through much worse things, he was a hero, and heroes didn't get scared. They were tough, tough like him. He continued this inner banter for a while to calm himself, boosting his own ego until he was sure he could manage to escape. Twenty minutes later and nothing. He was alone, he knew no one else was in the room and it bothered him to no end. "Hey…..HEY!" He called out. "Anyone there?" Suddenly he heard muffled speaking, it sounded foreign. He groaned and gently hit his head against the table several times. FuckingNazis… He clenched his jaw and hardened his gaze as he heard the door open, he was approached and shuddered as a gloved hand came to rest against his abdomen, and the only thing covering his lower region was a white sheet. Tank felt violated and exposed, and very uncomfortable being able to feel the man's gaze on him. He kept quiet, silently daring the other to speak first. Finally, words spilled from the other man who was still encased in darkness and unable to be seen. He sighed and fiddled with a small table next to Tank, he squinted his eyes as a glint blinded him momentarily. He felt his stomach clench, it was a scalpel, and the sadistic grin of the doctor in front of him was suddenly all too visible. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" Tank shouted in an effort to keep up the intimidation factor. The man in front of him didn't seem too muscled, he was tall and rather scrawny. Two haunting green eyes gazed out at him with morbid curiosity and vicious intent.
"Hey Mr.", The bellman says, "I can only recall this nice hotel I said."
So he replies, "Then how do you manage?"
I dodge the blast, and apologize for collateral damage.
"You can't remember a thing can you?" The mocking tone of the doctor rang out, Tank nearly snorted from how high-pitched he sounded. He kept himself cool and collected, trying the doctor's patience by keeping silent. Much to his dissatisfaction the doctor didn't seem to care either way. He moved closer and bent down, a sneer on his face as the scalpel ebbed closer to Tank's face. Tank flinched as the cold metal touched his warm skin and flinched more feeling warm liquid run down the side of his face. The doctor seemed fascinated and glanced at the door, which was locked. "Vould you like to know my name?" He teased lightly as his finger slowly swiped up the blood dripping down the marine's face. Tank scowled and spit in the doctor's face. With a deep scowl the doctor wiped off his face in disgust. "Mein name ist Edward Richtofen. That vay you know vhat name to scream out vhen you are vrithing in agony." A content sigh escaped the clearly crazed mans lips. Tank snarled and struggled against his bonds, eying the doctor as he hovered over the marine. Tank didn't like the hungry look in Richtofen's eyes, it freaked him out to no end and his mind was screaming at him to escape. Richtofen grabbed his throat, squeezing hard enough so Tank became light headed, and his vision swam viciously.
In love, I've always been a mercenary, But I never leave my post when the cash runs out
I want to make you quiver
Make your backbone shiver
Hey kid, take the stage and deliver
"Hey mister" the bellman says "I can only recall this nice hotel I said."
So he replies "Then how do you manage"
I dodge the blast, and apologize for collateral damage
It seemed to drag on forever, a combination of sharp blows from the doctor's fists and slices from the scalpel, all the blood licked up by a pink tongue that after a while began to feel like heaven. Tank was tired, his muscles screamed as his wrists and ankles ached from trying to viciously break free. What was he supposed to do? He was a marine for Christ's sake! He couldn't give up now, but even as that spark of rebellion flamed in his eyes the doctor merely grinned and turned up the torture. Eventually the doctor seemed to tire of the foreplay and straddled Tank, grinning madly and covered in Tank's blood. A needle was in his hand, and a vicious glowing liquid drew Tank's attention. He was injected rather carelessly, Tank gritted his teeth as his arm ached. His vision swam and the liquid burned in his veins. Hissing and shuddering he was suddenly forced into sharp focus, making his head swim again. He could feel every sensation now, the weight of the doctor on his hips and the clear arousal that he was feeling. Sneering in disgust he spat out insult after insult, which only seemed to make Richtofen more excited. "FAGGOT! YOU'RE A FUCKING HOMO!"
Richtofen's grin widened, he shivered gently. He spoke with heat and arousal, but also spoke out of torment to further mock his victim.
"How does it feel to lay on this table covered in your own blood?
Do you feel sad? Full of rage? Or does that outfit help you bury your feelings?
I hate to hear your true self.
You're truly an extraordinary specimen; I look forward to breaking you!"