A/N: Sorry for not updating! Lost inspiration mid-inspiration, was awks and stuff. But here we are, me tucked in with the strongest cup of Earl Grey I could get from a single teabag in my TARDIS mug, you on your laptop or mobile, probably tucked in to your bed as well. This will be quite a sad, earnest chapter. Really long too! If 'experimental' violence frightens you this fic is perhaps not your cup of tea. (No pun intended, wow, I only just realised this after finishing the whole chapter). Another reminder of Tek's ability to make an exciting life moment duller than ancient Chinese history (I can totally say that, I'm Asian, don't hit me). I'm building Tek as a steady, sarcastic, but caring man of science and family. We'll discover his personal journey as the chapter progresses. I imagine his voice would sound something like Joel's, from The Last Of Us, maybe without the accent. But I like Joel's accent. He's sho badass ^_^ But here we go, a long overdue update with wayyy too long of an A/N.
Well you are my accuser, now look in my face.
Your oppression reeks of your greed and disgrace.
So one man has and another has not,
How can you love what it is you have got
When you took it all from the weak hands of the poor?
Liars and thieves, you know not what is in store.
There will come a time I will look in your eye,
You will pray to the God that you've always denied.
Then I'll go out back and I'll get my gun,
I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son."
Mumford & Sons – Dust Bowl Dance
In enemy custody, location unknown
I awoke and shot up straight as a beam, immediately noticing I was chained to the floor with a long length of metal links. The room itself seemed rather like an Earth barn, hay strewn over the dirty stone floor, wooden trough on my left sitting right up against the brick wall. I could see that I had enough chain to reach through the bars, but not so much as to move past them. I would find that quite inconvenient afterwards when I tried to slip the keys out of the snoring cell guard's pocket. As you imagine, cue dramatic jail-escaping movie scene music, they jangled so much I accidentally woke him up, which resulted in my face being smashed repeatedly against the iron bars. That put me off attempting to escape for a little while.
I quite clearly remember sitting in my little cell, reflecting on my training and finding nothing to help me. It seems that they had not anticipated nor accommodated for any error. A travesty of science, I thought. But that is Kahler-Mas for you. I spotted a small, slightly rusted mirror by the sink at the wall to my right and dragged my heavy, clunky body over to it. Blood coated my defining-mark and armoury in a thick winter coat of burgundy, and my nose was dribbling blood. I splashed my face ten times to clear up most of the gunk and sat back down. If I was going to die soon, I would sure as hell be clean about it.
Kahler Jex's POV
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, standing awkwardly in the middle of the east wing's oldest lab. Wasn't much of a lab anymore, we used it for surveillance and collecting data. Dust had long before settled on the unused off-white benches, old Bunsen burners crying their own silent neglect beneath mesh-covered tripods. Kahler-Mas was due to meet me fifteen minutes ago, and I felt quite as if I'd been forgotten. Insufferable man, I thought bitterly. He wouldn't know punctuality if it danced in stilettos on his nose. I cleared my throat anxiously as he clopped through the doors, fearing that somehow he had heard my thoughts as Cuban-heeled patent leather dress shoes from Earth protested against the sterile tarkett. "Well?" I asked expectantly, rolling between the ball and the toes of my feet as he took his place watching the surveillance footage taken from the eyes of all the soldiers. He didn't even look up from the monitor. I pursed my lips and immediately relaxed my face. That was a nasty habit of mine that my co-workers had found patronising in the past. Definitely didn't want to do that around Mas.
"Listen Mas, if we're going to work together in harmony, you need to start communica-"
"Nothing to report, only one subject with concerning brain waves. I suspect it is Tek."
His voice was so dry and monotonous I almost didn't listen to what he said. I watched him, careful to keep my face deadpan as he swept the mouse to precise parts of the mousepad, clicking twice, then once, then presumably typing out Kahler-Tek's ID number. A routine check-up on the wellbeing of one of the most recently captured soldiers. They would be replaced within the next week at optimal speed.
Mas made a little 'hmm' sound at the data on the screen, and swivelled towards me sharply. "I think we have cause for some concern, Jex," he began, adjusting his position in the wheelie chair with great difficulty. Poor guy couldn't even reach the floor with his toes. As amusing as it was to watch my pretentious colleague struggle with a chair, the simplified pie graph results from Tek's last report left me frowning deeply. All soldiers sent a report giving their personal views on their physical and emotional state in the form of percentages to see how they compared to the brain wave stats.
Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report
63% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance.
*12% emotion – breakdown as follows: 8% resentment, 3% sadness, 1% hope.
10% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 6% violent force, 4% waiting for execution.
*11% suicidal thoughts.
All prohibited matter has been marked with a *
Click here for Detailed Report...
Mas clicked through without so much as blinking.
Detailed Report: I'm sick of this, Mas and Jex. I'm sick of not being able to be sick of anything in any other way than simply mental. You took away what made us sentient creatures. I'm sure the others in the battalion will agree. I will get out of here soon, and I will kill you both. What an occasion to look forward to.
I let out a shaky breath. Tek spoke of many things in only a few lines, and I prayed to God our Heavenly Father that rebellion was not one of them. That was not a part of the agreement. I suppose that's just what happens when you skim-read contracts that binds you for life.
Kahler-Tek's POV
Not for the first time, I try to remember when I loved my son. My wife. My life. They were all the same, back then. But who was I to blame? I'd volunteered. All I knew was that if I got out of here (which I strongly doubted after a proper analysis of all independent, dependent and controllable variables) that I would kill Kahler-Mas and Kahler-Jex; the men that brought half our population into the darkness as mere subjects with a smile on their goddamn faces.
After that, even my anger diminished. The hormone blockers had been upgraded in all of us, and it seems they had found the right model. This was good news for the Kahler Empire; not that we could get excited about that or anything. I would've rolled my eyes had I the attitude to do so as I filled out and sent another mental report.
Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report
40% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance.
*3% emotion – breakdown as follows: 2% resentment, 1% despair.
17% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 15% waiting for execution, 2% violent force.
40% suicidal thoughts.
All prohibited matter has been marked with a *
Detailed Report: I have noticed a distinct increase in the number and intensity of thoughts surrounding the topic of ending my life, and how easy that would be. Amusing, almost. I am ready to be taken.
I stabbed myself in thigh again that day, and as per usual, I felt no pain. It was equally strange and fascinating to watch the vitality seep out of my limb with no pain or sensation to accompany it. Death held no power over me anymore. I watched with a blank expression as the night shift cell guard's lips screamed at me in slow motion, but I heard no words, just irrelevance. My face remained still as he slid the door open and lunged for my throat, shouting something about what the hell was wrong with me and bloody aliens don't know what the hell they're doing. I might have found that amusing had I not the complete inability to react emotionally.
I continued to stab myself and the guard, mostly out of boredom. What else was there to do? And I rather enjoyed the sound of his gurgling on his own blood. Well, I was close to appreciating it. Once again, the inability to feel getting the better of my livelihood. How depressing. No pun intended. I clung to my dying morale with whatever strength I had left, but soon enough that disappeared too.
The consequent reports continued in the same fashion.
Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report
24% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance.
*1% emotion – breakdown as follows: 1% frustration.
10% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 9.5% waiting for execution, 0.5% force.
*65% suicidal thoughts.
All prohibited matter has been marked with a *
Detailed Report: I will try to kill myself tonight, as I'd rather die by my own hand than those judgemental humans the aliens tried so hard to protect. I am also curious as to whether or not I have the capacity to betray my race like this, although I must add I have had my feelings quite removed by those same people. Therefore I revoke my contract as a soldier and a subject for the Kahler Empire, and thus end my life with the next report.
I decided to ask a human guard to rip my organs out. Unfortunately, as I quote from them, "it is not in (their) contract." I briskly hung myself, which proved ineffective and only wreaked moderate asphyxia. This was a disappointment. The guard refused to harm me, so I tried it myself after sending my final report.
Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report
6% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance.
*94% suicidal thoughts.
All prohibited matter has been marked with a *
No Detailed Report to display.
