(I don't have a beta reader, so please point out any mistakes and I will happily fix them.)
Tony woke to all his nerves screaming in pain.
Gasping for breath only seemed to make it worse.
Opening his eyes did not help either, the light seared into his retinas.
Water, he thought, a drink might help.
Squinting against the light, Tony's eyes searched the room. His head was turned to look to the left. The room was rough looking. The walls likely concrete or some other archaic material.
His focus changed to the table beside him. A cup, opaque so unable to see if it contained anything. The bottle next to it had some clear liquid, completely colourless.
Water.
Panting in effort, Tony swung his arm towards it.
Missed.
Rolling onto his side Tony struggled to brace himself and reached with his right arm for the bottle. He managed to knock the cup and some other things off the table but didn't accomplish his goal.
Leaning forward made something at the back of his head tug, causing a surprising bolt of pain to arch down his entire spine.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Unable to really process the words, Tony pushed his body back. Still lacking coordination, shaking with fear and pain, Tony was reluctant to reach back but...
He needed to know.
Using his body as a brace for his right hand, he groped down the back of his head to the base of his skull.
What felt like a wire came out of bandages that he had somehow missed. The self adhesive bandages sealed around the follicles of his hair. If he ripped it off it'd take hair and flesh with it.
Panic seared through his system as he prodded the area under the bandage, feeling the undoubtedly metal object now attached to him.
His vision began to tunnel as his breathing escalated past recommended levels.
Don't pass out, he ordered himself.
"What have you done to me?" the question escaped him without real thought on his part.
"I saved your life," the man from before answered him. "When they pulled you in, your body was in between shapes and seizing. The explosion you managed to live through damaged your brain. Those telepathic bombs have quite a range, they even pierce through most sealed chambers when close enough. I've seen your reaction to them before."
The man was slim, his head was balding, his words were accented but well pronounced. His clothes were refined but looked well worn, even dirty.
He turned and continued speaking, his tone calm even though he looked tense, "Injuries in the brain aren't something that can be repaired, but I have managed to make a—patch, for lack of a better word. It stimulates your brain in a way that keeps its impulses for shape shifting stable. It's powered by the battery behind you. You'll need to adjust it to change shape, but you're alive. It could easily be worse."
Tony met the man's steady brown eyes as he stood over him. Could easily be worse, his mind repeated.
"The other people I have seen with this brain injury die within days of seizures as their minds force them to change shape over and over. They're aware enough to feel it, but unable to voice anything. What I have given you is time. Instead of dying in days, you likely have weeks," the man informed him.
"Weeks," Tony repeated, feeling stupid. He slowly eased himself up into a seated position, careful not to stress the line connecting him to the battery.
"Yes, weeks," the man told him.
"How-?"
His question was interrupted by a loud bang on the door outside, followed by shouting.
"Quickly, do as I do," ordered the man. His tension was far more visible now as he straightened from where he had been leaned over Tony.
Belatedly noting that he had barely had the cognitive ability to notice the other man's actions, Tony's eyes focused on the metal doors.
Obviously sliding doors, likely automated.
"Stand up, stand up!" commanded the stranger.
His urgency finally registered as the words from another language sound over the speakers into the room they are in.
Moving unsteadily to his feet, Tony was careful to keep the cord connected to his head from pulling by edging around the cot he had been laying on.
"Hands on your head! Like me! Do it!" the man said urgently before speaking in what seems to be the same language as the person speaking over the sound system in the room.
Tony raised his arms after the man reinforced his statement by trying to lift Tony's right arm.
The whole situation had Tony numb. There was too much to process.
Perhaps that, and the fact that the telepathic bomb had been his invention, explained his reaction to their demands.
"No," he answered.
No, he would not build the people waving his company's weapons in his face a weapon of mass destruction. No, he would not give them more ammunition to blow up the soldiers his weapons should be protecting.
No, he would not be responsible for more innocents' deaths.
Even when they started the torture, he didn't regret that one word.
No.
He would escape.
He won't let others be hurt because of him.