IIIII
"Peter... how have you been, man?"
Hearing a voice, one that sounded strangely far in the distance. Peter refocused his attention from his wandering thoughts, which had been becoming more difficult as of late. However, that wasn't important, and he preferred not to dwell on that particular thought. Instead, Peter pushed it away and stared through to the other side of the bulletproof panel. Spotting a much older looking and mature Ned from what he remembered from the last time he saw his friend... Not that he could remember when that last was.
"H-Hey Ned." Peter attempted to smile, shifting in the uncomfortable chair as best he could while strapped inside it. There was something oddly puzzling about seeing his friend after all this time. Ned, Ned looked well. Not sad, depressed, or as if he'd lost weight or anything terrible. In fact, he looked good, unlike how Peter felt or knew how he himself looked.
Of course, the last time he'd gotten the chance to see his reflection felt like months ago. And even then, he'd had overly pale skin, dirty, tangled hair down to his shoulders, and a bone-thin body that looked as if he'd been starved during his time at the prison. Something that, while not totally accurate, wasn't too far from the truth with everything that went on in the building. So Peter could only imagine how bad he looked now.
"You look terrible, Pete. Are they even feeding you in there?" Ned asked, looking troubled. "There has to be some law against starving prisoners. God, you look as if you've shrunk a few inches!"
"...Is that so?" Peter blinked, then shrugged. He wasn't sure how tall he was exactly. But the last time he'd seen his guard, he'd asked the man's height. The guard, while not pleasant, had told Peter he was six foot. So while he was barefoot and close to the same stature. Peter estimated he was at least around that height. Far taller than he had been before being sentenced here.
"Yeah, man. That isn't right. No one else looks like you around here."
"You know how it is, Ned." Peter chuckled at his friend's reaction. "Prison's never fun for anyone. However, it's been better now than it has been previously. Most of the time the guys and the doctors leave me be."
A complete lie that effortlessly slid off Peter's tongue. He'd never seen anyone but a few guards and the doctors, and they most certainly did not leave him alone. Ned didn't need to know that, however. Though it was an interesting bit of information that the other man had seen other prisoners. He'd yet to do so, and he'd been in prison for what felt like forever. Unless, of course, his friend wasn't referring to prisoners, and he was talking about the guards instead. A potential possibility.
"That's great, man. Glad things are looking up after all this time with... With M-May being gone." Ned replied, voice cracking slightly.
"I suppose." Peter nodded. Feeling only the slightest flash of guilt for a second as he realized he hadn't thought of his aunt in a long time. But that feeling vanished as quickly as it came. Leaving Peter momentarily forgetting Ned and instead thinking why he'd forgotten about May until Ned had brought the woman up. It wasn't like him... At least he didn't think so. It was getting hard to remember things like that.
"-P-Peter, Peter? You there, man?"
"Huh?" Hearing Ned's voice raising in volume. Peter lifted his head to look at his friend again, having lowered it while in thought. "I'm fine, Ned. Just fine."
Another lie.
"If you s-"
"Alright, that's enough chatting for today!" A guard ordered, interrupting Ned as he up from behind Peter, two other men on each side silently moving about with practiced ease. Grabbing Peter under each of his arms and lifting him up.
"Hey, Joe. It's been a while. How's Mrs. Joe?" Peter asked, ignoring the flaring pain from his ribs as he was unstrapped and lifted from his chair. His eyes locked on the guard, who was ignoring his question.
"Hey! What's going on!" Ned yelled, which, while muffled from the other side of the glass. Still seemed to pick up in volume the more the man continued. "We still have fifteen minutes! You can't do this!"
"Not anymore. New warden, new rules." The guard shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic. "If it makes you feel better. You can always visit him again next week."
"...Bye, Ned." Peter gave a half-hearted wave as he was carried away. "See you next week."
Idly tracing the floor with his foot as he was dragged through the halls. Peter was about to try and stand, spotting the entrance to his cell, when the guards pulled him to the right down a new hallway. One he'd never seen or been through before.
"A new cell? Or am I scheduled for my next appointment?" Peter asked the guard walking alongside Joe, trying his best to hide his nervousness. Even now, after all this time, he wasn't used to the doctor visits. It didn't help that they were becoming less like visits and more like weekly appointments the more time went on.
Not bothering to struggle, having long given up on such a fruitless effort. Peter watched the guards drag him through a side door into a solid white room. Nothing in it except a luscious recliner-like chair which the guards began carefully strapping him into. A little confused, he tried not to focus on the why and enjoy the luxury treatment while it lasted. Even if it was strange after experiencing what felt like years of hard metal benches and thin cotton mattresses.
Hearing the clicking sound of heels, Peter looked up and felt his stomach go cold. Churning in a way he hadn't felt since he first discovered his aunt's body on their apartment floor. A feeling that wasn't a welcome one. However, Peter couldn't control it as he watched Ms. Viper enter the room. Looking the same as ever, dressed in a slim business suit exactly like the one she'd worn at the trial but this time with a rather pleasant smile on her face.
"Hello, Peter."
Keeping his mouth shut, Peter glared at the woman responsible for his current sentence. He'd never once thought he'd see her again. It had been so long he'd almost forgotten her with everything that had happened. Now, though, the memories of the trial were coming back in full force. Bringing all the unpleasant emotions he'd experienced with it.
"Hmm... I see you're not very chatty today. Is it because of me? From the past recordings I've seen, you used to love to talk. Begging, pleading... screaming... Did I miss anything?" Ms. Viper tapped her lip while asking in an unquestionably mocking way. "Oh yes, apologizing. Though given your aunt is dead, I doubt she's forgiven you for getting her killed. Why-"
"Shut up! Don't you dare talk about my aunt, you murderer!" Peter snapped out as he tried to push against the well-tightened straps holding him in place, a weird sensation beginning to build up beneath his skin. Unfamiliar yet not unwelcoming.
"Excellent, there's that fire. I wondered if my doctors hadn't stomped it out of you yet."
Feeling as if he'd been doused with icy cold water, Peter looked up at the businesswoman. His throat drying as the weird sensation that was building up vanished. "...Your doctors?"
"Yes, didn't you know, Peter? My prison, my guards, my doctors. And I must say, I'm impressed." Ms. Viper smirked, sitting on a chair one of the guards brought in behind them. "The amount of drugs we've been able to test on your body alone has helped kickstart some of our more impressive projects. Yet, unlike your fellow test subjects, you're still alive, standing, and capable of thought. A miracle in comparison to the others. They all became vegetables after the tenth dosage."
"That all isn't important, however, and beside's the point for my visit today. I have one last test for you, Peter. If you pass, then you're free. No more tests, no more experiments, no more pain."
"...What's the catch," Peter asked after a few seconds of silence, knowing by now that nothing came free, especially in this prison.
"There is no catch." Ms. Viper said with an almost disappointed look on her face. As if it wasn't a legitimate question Peter should asking. "I really don't expect you to survive this last experiment. But if you do, you more than deserve your freedom. Think of it as a gift for being such a good little lab rat."
With that, Ms. Viper stood from her chair and began to walk away. Leaving Peter to watch as she left. The first stirrings of hope spreading through him, hope that he desperately tried to suppress the feeling of. Knowing trusting the words of the woman who got him thrown into Rykers was more than a bad idea. But despite that, he couldn't stop it. The chance to possibly be free too good to ignore or try and suppress.
"Experiment 701, begin." A mechanical voice echoed above as the guards quickly left the white-boxed room. Leaving Peter alone to go through Ms. Viper's experiment. A title that sounded worse than therapy, though he still preferred calling the doctor visits the latter versus the former.
Putting his chin down close to his chest, Peter closed his eyes and tried his best to lose all touch with reality. Something he'd quickly learned to do after the first few tests and experiments. Unfortunately, it rarely ever worked, the doctors having easily caught on to his attempts after the first few therapy sessions. So they usually did something new or had a distraction to annoy him and disrupt his thoughts.
BAng bANg bang bang bang BaNG BaNG BANG BANG! BanG BANG Bang baNG BAng bang bang BANG BaNG BANG!
The current session would, of course, be no different.
"Think of a happy place. Think of a happy place. Think of a happy place!" Peter chanted quickly, trying and failing to drown out the constant-sounding clown theme. One he'd pretty much memorized by heart with how much he'd heard it—making it all the harder to drown it out. The tune had been used by many of the doctors throughout different sessions ever since they'd somehow discovered his fear of clowns.
A fear Peter hadn't realized he still had until it had come up. Reminding him of when he was a kid getting jump scared by clowns during a horror house festival his aunt and uncle had taken him to for his birthday.
"Mr. Parker." A mechanically synthesized yet still distinctively male voice echoed from above. Pulling Peter from his thoughts to drown out the music as he groaned. If there was ever someone he hated more than Ms. Viper. It was the person behind the voice. Someone he'd never seen or met. But the guy had, with little effort, managed to accomplish it.
"As this will be our last time together. I've decided to make it a memorable one." Seeming to pause a little dramatically for a few seconds, the voice continued. "I've released a new toxin of mine into the room. By now, it should be entering your bloodstream, allowing us to observe the effects. But I'm sure you're used to that by now."
Looking up into the bright lights above him, Peter stared, then asked the question he knew the man wanted. "...What's your point?"
"I'm so happy you asked Mr. Parker. What makes this experiment special... Is a video. Well, technically speaking, that is. Right now, you are strapped into an electric chair, which, before you ask, no, I don't know the voltage. I was only told it was set to high." A brief chuckle rattled around the room. "During the video, I'll pause and ask a question. You will then answer said question. If you are right, well, good for you. Our drugs haven't totally scrambled your brain yet. However, if you're wrong, I pull up my little lever... Like... So!"
Still processing the reveal that the comfortable recliner was really an electric chair. Peter barely had enough time for his eyes to widen before he jolted, electricity shooting through his body. The pain was worse than anything he'd ever gone through from the previous sessions, the electricity practically cooking him from the inside out.
"Impressive, Mr. Parker. That was setting one. Let's just hope you can survive the other six."
Fingers twitching at the aftershocks running through his body, Peter chose not to reply. Instead, he took a deep breath, not wanting to risk setting the voice off and getting electrocuted any more than he had to. If setting one was already that bad, he couldn't imagine the other settings... Unfortunately, from past experience, Peter knew chances were he'd be finding out before the experiment fully ended.
"Well, if you're ready to start, please focus your attention on the tv in front of you."
Following the mechanical voice's command, Peter looked ahead and watched as a large theater-sized screen was lowered across half the room wall. The image on the screen showed what looked to be security footage of himself coming from a camera in the corner of the room. The Peter on the screen curled on his side on the floor of his cell, rocking back and forth.
"That is you, Mr. Parker, as you've no doubt realized. So, without extending this session any longer than it needs to be. I'm going to cut to the chase and ask you my question. Please answer truthfully... Are you insane? "
"What?" The words slipped out of Peter's mouth without thought. Unable to believe the absurdity of what he was being asked. Here he was, getting experimented on, electrocuted in a chair for some sick test by the doctors and Ms. Viper. Yet the man hiding behind the speakers had the nerve to ask if he was insane? In what world did that even begin to make sense?
"Oh yes, Mr. Parker! Ms. Viper didn't mention that little detail?" Once again, the mechanical chuckling came from the speakers echoing in the little room. "You may be physically healthy, albeit malnourished and in almost dire need of more nutrition. However, your mind? Well, you're one of our more interesting subjects regarding how drugs have affected that aspect... Here, let me give you an example."
Feeling that weird feeling begin to rise beneath his skin again, Peter did his best to shove it down and ignore it. Focusing on the tv as the screen changed, showing him at the visiting center. Peter strapped into the chair, a blank stare in his eyes as he bobbed his head from side to side. Not exactly something he remembered doing, but he was probably bored as he waited for Ned to arrive. That wasn't something that screamed insanity.
"As you can see, Mr. Parker. You're sitting alone. Waiting for your friend Ned to visit. Am I correct?"
"...Yes. What's your point?" Peter asked after a long silence, his scalp beginning to tingle, feeling as if a red warning sign was going off in his mind repeatedly again and again.
"This is you two hours later. Long past visiting hours. But we felt you needed a semblance of comfort to keep you going. So we left you there, something that's become the norm since the accident." Sounding sad in a more mocking than actual empathizing way. A click came through from above, flipping the screen to show Peter talking to himself. Still staring off into space, but this time, with the sound on. Allowing Peter to hear what was being said.
"Peter, how have you been, man?"
"I've been good, Ned, real good."
"Are the tests any better?"
"Tests? What tests? Haha, Ned, you're such a jokester! This is prison. What tests could happen here?"
"...You're right, Peter..."
"HeehehehehahhahaHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!"
Paling, Peter watched as he had a small conversation with himself, using a slightly deeper, but still very obviously, his own voice for Ned, who wasn't there, which was clearly wrong. He had seen Ned not even an hour ago. What was being said on the camera wasn't right. The conversation wasn't even the same, let alone the laugh. The pitch was weird, and it didn't even sound like his laugh... At least from what he could remember. It'd been years since he'd last laughed and not chuckled. The latter was rare enough as it was. Only happening when he tried to get a rise out of the guards.
"Now that you've seen proof. Let me ask you again, Mr. Parker. Are you insane?"
"No," Peter replied instantly. He refused to believe the video was true. The doctors loved messing with his mind. They'd done it in the past, and he had little doubt this was another of their games. Nothing they said could really be trusted. He saw Ned, talked to him, and knew what was shown on screen wasn't real. After all, if the memory was as clear as it was in his head, surely it was real, right?"
"Excellent, Mr. Parker. I'm so very excited to see how you feel about setting number two!"
Eyes widening once more, Peter didn't even have time to scream before he was again shot up with electricity. Spasming in the chair, unable to free himself from the straps, Peter's vision began to go grey, the coloring looking as if it was pulled away from the center of his vision. Every tingle was like a nail digging into his eyes.
"Very good! I must say, I was having second thoughts. But now, I believe you may truly survive this. Though how much is your body's natural healing and immune system, and how much is my new drug is hard to say at this point."
Trying not to panic and gather his breath. Peter roughly coughed and glared up at the ceiling. Beads of sweat covered his face, his now rasping breathing the only other audible sound, every gulp of air practically echoing in the silence.
"W...What happened to the music?"
Of course, Peter wasn't about to start complaining about the silence. He just found it odd not to hear the loud and over-the-top banging clown theme, which at this point had been in the majority of the experiments he was a part of. Thinking back, Peter probably should have noticed it vanishing when he heard the sound from the tv. There was no way he would have been able to listen to that so-called recording of himself otherwise.
"...Why, Mr. Parker. It never stopped."
"Quit playing around. I know you're lying." Peter said, his voice a little shaky as his head swung around the room. Looking at all the speakers built into the walls, trying to listen as best he could for that awful yet familiar banging of drums.
"Why would I do that, Mr. Parker?" Sounding a little amused, the man changed the subject. "Onto the next video. Let's take a look at the outside world for a few moments."
Seeing the screen change to show a car, looking to be leaving the prison, Peter focused on it, knowing it was better to play the game than continue arguing with the voice. What he did not expect, however, was to see Ned. His best friend driving the car, the man looking much younger compared to earlier that morning. He even looked a little slimmer. Not a sight he ever imagined to see when it came to Ned.
"As you can no doubt tell. Your friend Ned is quite young here. So my question to you, Mr. Parker. Is how did your best friend visit you if he died last year?"
"What!" Fist clenching, Peter didn't even have time to demand the voice explain what he meant by that before a loud crash boomed through the speakers. Ned's car was now totaled on screen. Both sides smashed and squished together by the trucks that had hit the vehicle on either side. Practically ensuring whoever was inside wouldn't survive.
"Of course, that question isn't part of the game. It's more my curiosity, so you can choose not to answer. No, my real question is, who do you think killed Ned? That accident was... Well, more than an accident. Your two choices are someone with no connection to Ned or you at all or me and my colleagues."
Feeling sick, Peter looked away from the screen as he heard the options, having no doubt in his mind which was the correct answer, and not for the first time, wishing he could go and kill those doctors. A thought the old him probably would have been shocked to have. Hero's didn't kill. How could he be one if he did?
Now though? After everything he'd been through? Thoughts of ways he could kill the doctors and do to them what they did to him... That was what helped Peter sleep at night. A way to lessen the pain and escape the reality of his situation.
"I'm waiting for an answer, Mr. Parker."
"...You did." Taking a deep and shuddering breath, Peter tried his best to calm his emotions, trying to think of his happy place and not of Ned's death. Something that was made a little more difficult as his usual happy memory was with Ned and his aunt. Talking about some legos they built while eating at the sandwich shop at the very edge of their street. A memory that was now far less happy with both the people in it dead.
"Hmm... Yes. That is correct. I suppose it was a little too obvious." Seeming to sigh, the voice paused, then spoke again, this time sounding annoyed. "Alright, next question. How much do you think Liz was paid to testify against you at your trial?"
Now feeling bewildered and not getting where this new line of questioning was going, Peter answered the question. "She wasn't. Liz wasn't at the trial."
From getting news of Ned's death to finding out he was murdered, and now bringing up an old high school classmate of his, Liz? Peter was starting to get dizzy with the rapid flipping of topics. Not to mention confusion.
"Whoops, looks like I forgot a little detail. Well, no harm in letting you know now. Liz was the main reason why you were sent to prison. Her testimony against you was the ironclad evidence needed to send you here... That and her mother paid a great deal of money to ensure you had a... Comfortable experience."
"...Right," Peter replied after a minute of silence. He wasn't sure what was going on now. He remembered absolutely none of that.
Sighing, the man somehow managed to sound as if he was shaking his head. "Peter, Peter, Peter. That was such a disappointing reaction. Where's the rage? The heartbreak? Why I don't even see a tear."
Leaning his head back against his chair, Peter chose to stay silent. He'd long since learned that the doctors knew everything about his life. So they knew full well he'd only spoken maybe two words to Liz. So whatever the game was, Peter was going to do his best to stay out of it.
"Hmm... I suppose I can let you off the hook for this one. Next question, and please, Mr. Parker, answer this one carefully. I'd hate to hurt you simply because you didn't think enough."
"Now, Mr. Parker, I want to ask you this very precise and possibly confusing question. Are you a good person?"
A little taken aback and unsure of the point the mechanical voice was trying to reach, he decided to just answer the question.
"Yes?"
"No, no, NO. You're not getting it! Are you a good person Mr. Parker? After all, what type of person doesn't even cry after discovering their aunt, the closest thing they have to a mother, has been murdered? What type of person tries to use their aunt's death to escape prison? What type of sick twisted person, instead of grieving for their best friend's death. Plays a game? What type of person... Are you, Mr. Parker?"
"I-I uh, I..." Peter blinked, trying to follow what the mechanical voice was saying, but felt himself beginning to feel overwhelmed—desperately wanting to deny the accusations but unable to find the strength to speak. The words that he hadn't chosen to play the game on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't say them. The memory of finding his aunt's body in their apartment blurring. He had cried then, hadn't he? Why couldn't he seem to remember now? And surely he hadn't tried to use May's death to avoid prison? He'd accused Ms. Viper. That wasn't the same thing... right?
"Oh, is that indecision I hear in your voice? Fascinating, Mr. Parker. However, I regret to inform you that your answer is not accepted. So by default, let's say you're a good person." The mechanical voice paused, then continued sounding excited. "See, I helped you choose the... Oh... I apologize, Mr. Parker. Those aren't your papers. Well, it looks like I chose the wrong answer. Unlucky, but at least we can test setting number three!"
Seeing white this time instead of grey, Peter felt as if his skin was being ripped from his body, every second turning into another, time slowing down to a crawl as he shook in the chair. The leather covering felt like burning coals from the sun itself as it rubbed over and over on his body.
"Awake yet, Mr. Parker?"
Blinking in confusion, Peter opened his eyes to see the white lights shining down from the ceiling on his face. The phantom pain from the electricity caused his fingers to twitch as he tried and failed to control his body. His fingers, arms, and even his head refused to obey his commands. Almost as if they were locked in place.
"Well then, now that your little nap is over. Please focus your attention on the tv in front of you."
Flicking his eyes to the tv, Peter stared as he saw the same frozen image of himself, alone in the visiting center, identical to the one shown before.
"That is you, Mr. Parker, as you've no doubt realized. So, without extending this session any longer than it needs to be. I'm going to ask you a question. Please answer truthfully... Are you insane?"
"...What?" Peter rasped out, a sharp pain shooting through his jaw as he spoke. Ignoring it, he looked at one of the voice's speakers, unsure of what game was being played by the doctors asking the same question once more.
"You heard correctly, Mr. Parker. Though I will admit, we have come to a conclusion on that ourselves. But, we wish to hear what you think."
Feeling annoyed but not wanting to get electrocuted, Peter went with the answer that was 'correct' before. "Yes, I'm insane."
"Hmm... That's quite fascinating. An insane patient who has enough self-awareness to know that they are insane... But, of course. That would be if you actually believed it yourself. According to your heart rate monitor, you don't. So Mr. Parker. Let's test setting number two!"
Peter didn't even have time to question why the doctor went down to a lower setting before he was once again getting electrocuted. The pain somehow felt worse than it had on setting three... And yet even as he spasmed in the chair, Peter couldn't help but think that this session was going to be worse than all the others combined...
And for some odd, inexplicable reason, he couldn't help but smile at that.
IIIII
