The young man gagged as the scientists shoved tubes down his throat, preparing him for an induced coma. He wanted to scream but the thick plastic in his throat was not allowing him to do so. He was gagging badly and his heart was pounding despite the medication flowing through his veins via the IVs.
Hope Estheim would've rather faced crystallization all over again. Anything but this.
"Hold still, director. We need to aim for the heart." The scientist, who was prepping him for the process of deep sleep, spoke.
It was an order, not a suggestion. Despite his rank and influence in the new settlement of Gran Pulse, Hope Estheim was not someone loved.
Everyone remembered the L'cie, the Fal'cie and Hope was notoriously well known for his deeds with the Guardian corps' former sergeant Farron in their quest to complete their focus.
Hope wasn't surprised if the scientist serving him right now was purposely inducing physical pain on him.
Whatever.
When Hope woke up, he knew that the life he knew would be gone. The people who hated him wouldn't be there at all. They would've died. Maybe they wouldn't even exist, including this scientist.
Icy liquid swept over his form, drenching his hair and biting into his clothing.
Despite the order to lie still, Hope found himself trashing against the water. He felt like he was drowning to his death.
The scientist was yelling at him, telling him to breathe the water in. As his make shift coffin was filled to the brim with liquid suspension of some kind, Hope saw the world in a blurry shade of blue.
That shade soon disappeared, replaced by the unmistakable calling of sleep.
He thought he'd heard Lightning calling out to him but he knew it was a dream. It had to be.
His fingers unconsciously clenched around an imaginary knife. He remembered the scent of fire, oil, sweat and gold.
His mind drifted off to thoughts of Lightning, of his younger days with her as sleep forcefully took him.