Sorry this took a while, I had midterms. hope you enjoy!
warnings for this chapter: unwilling blood-draw, blood, mild body horror, violence, threats of starvation.
Chapter twelve
Barry focused on the cool air around him, trying to match it. It was harder starting from a still, sitting position, and phazing through restrains wasn't like going through a truck or a wall, but he didn't exactly have a lot of options. As soon as he pushed against the restraints, he regretted it, pain shooting through his arms and he realized his mistake. The wire vibrating with him, and it wasn't as fine a mesh as he'd assumed; instead of being nearly solid, each strand was separate enough to dig into his skin.
No, not dig. Cut.
Barry stopped, gasping to breath through the stinging pain in his wrists where the wire pressed into dozens of still shallow cuts. He'd managed not to scream, but he'd yelped. He doubted that his being awake had gone unnoticed. Knowing from experience that it wouldn't take long for the cuts to heal, he pressed down as well as he could manage against the arms of the chairs, trying not to let the wire of the mesh scrape against the irritated skin.
"So you're the Flash," a voice he recognized distantly said from the doorway. Barry twisted to look, and the mesh bit into the cuts again. Keeping that cry of pain down was no easier the first. The man came closer, another IV bag in hand, but he did not make any move to set it up. "Five IV bags and just shy of an hour. Dr. Snow's calculations were correct after all."
"Caitlin?" Barry demanded, still trying to place the man's voice. The memory it belonged to didn't fit with this brightly lit place, the white lab coat he wore. "What did you do to her, where is she? Where's Cisco?"
"As if I know," the man shook his head. "Or care. You and Firestorm are all I'm interested in, not a pair of disgraced scientists the General only needs for leverage."
Barry flinched back as he approached, hampered by the restraints and the solid chair. "Firestorm?" No. They'll kill them. they'll-That's our last hope, Ronnie and Martin, they can't be caught, too.
"What, you thought you were our only little lab rat?" the man scoffed.
That phrase jarred something loose in Barry's mind, a frightened, angry woman with stubborn eyes and red hair, a dark room, a green laser sight and the shattering of glass.
"You," Barry said, his right wrist brushing against the wire and burning as the doctor turned his arm to get to the veins in the crook of his elbow better. "You're him, the one who-Bette. You tortured Bette San Souci."
Dr. Hadley let out an exaggerated sigh. "The sergeant. What fascinating abilities. Such a shame the General had to put her down before we were able to finish, but at least she led us to you. I have the feeling you'll be far more useful to our endeavors, won't you, Mr. Allen?"
Barry had certainly gotten more used to having his blood drawn since Caitlin took over as his only doctor and he started going out and getting himself injured on a weekly basis, but she always gave him warning and something else to focus on. Hadley practically stabbed the needle in, and only his vinyl-gloved hands and the restraints prevented him from jerking away. He still tried, growling low in his throat. "She was a person."
"Don't make this harder on yourself," the man advised, "or your friends."
"Leave them alone," Barry rasped. Despite the new energy from the IV bags, his throat was still dry.
"That depends on how well you and Firestorm behave. After the stunt the General says you pulled with the treadmill, you should be grateful they're still alive."
Barry wanted to protest, but latched on instead to the fact that Cisco and Caitlin were at least alive.
"I want to see them. All of my friends, I want to know they're safe."
"And I want the secret behind your powers. We don't always get what we want right away, Flash. The difference is, I know I'll get what I want." Doctor Hadley took the vials, the blood too red against the stark white of his coat and the surrounding room, and left, leaving the last IV bag limp on the counter, forgotten.
Barry looked at the cuts on his arm, turning white under the blood as they scarred over and healed, and tried not to cry.
Ronnie tapped at the clear barrier between them again. Sound was still blocked, but as long as they watched, keeping their hands low, Stein had gotten across that they could manage a modified form of morse code. Of course, Eiling would be watching, or one of his lackies would, but sitting in isolated silence was too much for both men. Ronnie wished bitterly that the Firestorm bond extended to telepathy.
Someone had brought what barely passed as a meal, though it was better than the scraps they'd filched from trash cans and restaurant dumpsters last winter. Or at least, there was more of it, which counted for something, even if it was only room temperature water that taste metallic and stale and and some tan goop that might have been mashed potatoes or might have been over cooked oatmeal. Either way, it was bland and, like the water, hovered around room temperature. He'd still scraped every bit of it off the plate with his fingers-god forbid someone give them plastic sporks.
Martin tapped back, answering the question Ronnie had hoped to get across, C-A-I-T, with N-O-S-E-E and a sad shake of his head. Fear burned in the younger man's gut, and his hands itched to do something. What if they'd hurt her, or killed her? They had Martin, they had him. It wouldn't be long before Eiling decided to hurry up and finish what he'd started in March. Before he could tap anything else, question or comfort or plan, both doors opened at once. Ronnie scrambled to his feet, but the door to the hallway-to freedom-was blocked, and the soldiers that had entered, two in each cell, had already taken hold of Martin. Ronnie swallowed hard. If they were being taken somewhere together, they might have a chance to merge. To find Caitlin and Cisco, to escape. Or… this might be it. They're going to kill us.
From the other end of the bond, he felt a faint attempt at warmth, mentally, as if Martin were trying to reassure him. Ronnie swallowed. They were held more than arm's length apart all the way down the hall and into yet another new room, this one a severe contrast to the small cell. The ceiling was high, and the open feel of it was closer to the basketball courts at Hudson University than a hidden military base. He shivered.
Eiling was already there, flanked by men Ronnie now recognized, and a woman he was certain he'd never seen before, but that the Professor had. A memory of pain sparked across the bond, and Ronnie winced.
Eiling smirked, coming closer to inspect them one at a time. Ronnie pulled his lips back in a snarl, but Eiling just clicked his tongue and moved over to Martin.
"I don't often admit to being wrong," the General said, and his voice echoed a little in the open space.
"Ah, but it suits you so well," Martin said, and the hint of pride Ronnie felt was overwhelmed with concern as he felt the grip on the professor's shoulders tighten.
Eiling ignored him. "You see, strictly speaking, I don't need you alive. I can extract the Firestorm Matrix from your corpses. Your speedster friend may have assumed he stole all the data on the process, all your files back, but he was mistaken. So I have everything I need, technically. It seems your files weren't as thorough as would be best, but since you were too shortsighted to conduct real testing, I suppose we'll just have to do that for you."
"What do you mean?" Martin demanded, again trying to bring the attention more fully on to himself. Perhaps he could still bargain Ronald's freedom, and the others's. He had been honest when he'd told this man before that he would die before he saw his work used for Eiling's own twisted ends, but that was his own life, not Ronald's. Not Caitlin's.
The general nodded sharply, and the soldier at Martin's left pulled a knife from his belt. Before anyone could react, not that either half of Firestorm could have done anything, he slashed through the thin material of Martin's shirtsleeve. As Martin cried out, Ronnie jerked instinctively to cover the place on his own arm, failing to suppress his own short cry. When he looked up, he noticed Eiling's eyes on him, not on Martin or the soldier who'd cut him.
"That's what I mean," he said. "There's something that connects the two of you. The scars on your arms proved as much. I'm not about to send my men into combat without knowing the full extent of the bond the Firestorm Matrix provides. The benefits beyond flight as well as any possible...downsides." The predatory grin was back. "I'm sure you of all people, Professor, understand that we have to go about this scientifically."
"You won't get away with this," Ronnie snarled, face flushed as he understood what Eiling meant. He knew Stein understood what Eiling intended for their fate.
"I already have." Eiling signaled the men holding them. "Take Mr. Raymond below. See how long it takes for the Professor to feel the chill-or the other way around, I suppose. I'd cooperate, if I were you, meta, unless you want your pretty fiance to pay the price."
"You're a monster," Ronnie hissed, too afraid for Caitlin to resist as his captors started dragging him towards a side door.
"And you're a metahuman," Eiling responded lightly. "And now, you're mine."
"You need to eat," Cisco pressed as Caitlin held the remaining half of the granola bar she'd been given, hunger gnawing at her stomach like the hamster her high school biology teacher had kept in the classroom, chewing on the cage bars and wooden blocks. She did, knowing she should probably save it for later, just in case it took a while to be rescued or find a way to escape, but immediate hunger won out.
"How's your head?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Not so bad." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but she'd done the best she could, and the food and water had helped. "Do you think Barry's alright?"
Caitlin nodded, shifting her position on the cold ground. "They said we'd only get a meal if he woke up, and they did give us these-"
"This isn't even a snack," Cisco protested. "They could have given us some red vines at least. Even the generic brand ones."
Caitlin swallowed the laugh, remembering the time Barry had brought Cisco a jumbo pack of generic red licorice and he'd pouted for three days straight because "they're not the same, Barry, you absolute philistine."
"It's all we've got," she said instead. "But they brought them. That means Barry woke up. It must. He has to be ok. Ronnie and Stein, two, or they wouldn't bother keeping us."
Cisco nodded, scooting closer. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Caitlin said, a little more sharply than intended. She was tired and hungry and cold, and it showed.
"If I'd been more careful, though. If I hadn't gotten caught, they wouldn't have gotten Ronnie. We'd have found you before that. And they wouldn't have Barry."
Caitlin dropped the wrapper from her granola bar, then tucked it into a pocket. She doubted it would be of any use, but that was no reason to just leave it. She took Cisco's hand, grateful that at least they weren't chained. He smiled, squeezing back and leaning against her a little.
"We could make a run for it," he said, softly. "The next time one of them comes in. Use the first aid kit as a weapon…You saw where they had Barry. You could get to him…"
Caitlin swallowed. She memorized the path from this cell to where they'd taken her, the observation room with the treadmill and Barry, as best she could, but they might have moved him. Could they afford to wait for a rescue? Could they afford to risk another escape?
"We can't just wait for them to kill us," Cisco pointed out softly, giving voice to her own fears.
Minutely, she nodded. The first aid kit was plastic, not heavy and solid, but it was what they had.
They waited, edgy and nervous, rationing what remained of the water after Caitlin had used a third of it tending to Cisco's wounds. Cisco's throat still felt terrible and dry, but the ache in his head had lessened, and his ribs felt-well, not better, but not worse. He used the wall to help him stand, making sure he could walk. He wasn't sure about running, but walking he could handle, and when it came down to it...Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, wasn't it? Think positive. Think positive.
When the door did open, it wasn't one of the lower ranking grunts they'd expected. Cisco shot to his feet and regretted it. Caitlin stood to support him, glaring at Eiling.
"What do you want now?" she asked.
"I'm not here for you, Doctor," Eiling told her. "Ramon. We have need of your expertise."
Cisco clenched his fists, but stepped forward. "Fine. My hourly freelancing fee is let us all go, plus expenses. And I'll need my lawyer to go over the contract."
"Nice try," Eiling shook his head. "Counteroffer. You do what I want, your friend gets to see her fiance when you finish, and I don't just kill you."
Cisco didn't dare look at Caitlin. His eyes drifted to the door. He couldn't see the guards, and Eiling stood there alone...and Cisco was sure he was bluffing. He couldn't kill them, not yet, anyway. Eiling stared down at him, and Cisco trembled with anger more than fear. How dare this creep threaten Ronnie, threaten Caitlin, threaten any of his family?
Cisco had always been small for his age, and young for his classes. Add to that his love of science and math and figuring out how the world worked, and he'd developed far more than a sense of humor and thick skin.
Like, for example, a strong left hook.
Eiling staggered with the crack as Cisco's punch connected with his nose. It wasn't much, but Cisco hadn't expected to knock him out, or even down. Hoped, yes, expected, no. He and Caitlin made it three steps into the hallway before being surrounded by the soldiers who had been waiting just out of the line of sight. Cisco's triumph died.
"If that's how you want to play this, brat," the general said thickly, sopping up the blood still pouring from his nose, "fine. You build me a treadmill that can fully test the Flash's speed, or you're both useless to me. And if he's useless, I won't waste resources on him. With that metabolism, do you think he'll starve before he dies of thirst? I'm sure we can learn plenty from his corpse." Eiling grinned at their stunned silence, feral with his nose and mouth stained with blood. "Put the good doctor back in her room. Let the brat watch his friend die."
"No!" Cisco burst out, desperation squeezing his lungs as much as his bruised ribs. "I'll do it, I'll build whatever you want." he sagged in the harsh grip of the soldiers. "Please, I'll do it."
"That's more like it. Next time, I won't give you a second chance."
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