Remy wakes up but only barely and knows there's something wrong.
He's in pain and he's not in his bed.
There are bright lights over him and something is ticking somewhere he can't see.
There are things plugged into his arms too. Horrible things he can't identify but he can feel.
He whimpers and something to his left moves.
Whatever it is he doesn't like it and he tries to pull at his restraints but they don't give. They don't even rattle.
He doesn't like this and feels for something, anything at his finger tips, his brain thinking wildly of locks and things he know's how to pick. Coming up short and blank.
There's nothing he can touch except the cold steel of the table he's laying on and he whimpers. He doesn't like this at all.
He doesn't understand either.
He was in his bed.
Sinsiter has rooms. . . Baracks for them all. He went to bed in his room so why is he here?
He gasps as the figure moves to his right snd starts doing something that clinks and scrapes softly and makes him want to scream.
"Hmm." He whimpers, mouth terribly dry and unable to work.
"Shh."
He wants to scream, his heart is hammering and the light over him is so bright, sterile and white that his eyes can't adjust.
Something cuts into him, something sharp and slender and he wants to shake but he can't. His body isn't reacting the way he wants. It isn't doing anythng.
He tries to breath and realizes it's a needle entering his flesh.
He doens't want that.
He tries to pull away, isn't even sure if he's moving.
"Nun-" He slurrs.
"Shh." Say's the voice again.
Whatever is being injected into him hurts and he begins to shake more badly this time, body burning as the- fluid- liquid- fire spreads through him.
It hurts so badly and there's nothing he can do.
The figure has moved back to his left and he whimpers, wrists hurting from struggeling against the restraints.
"Ahh." He breaths, pain making his vision even worse.
The lights and the cold table and the awful, acidic burning in his right shoulder.
He wants to see who's doing this to him.
Wants to know who's standing over him but he cna't focus and he feels like he can't breath. His throat and chest are constricting.
The figure is walking around him, he can hear a sharp clacking sound from the ground. It's only muffled by the rushing that's filling his ears.
Remy's scared and he isn't someone that scares easy.
The clacking continues and then stops when the figure does.
The lights above him hurt his eyes but he's too afraid to shut them.
"Curious." He hears the voice say. "You're metabolizing the sedatives more quickly than before. Perhaps I'm being too frequent in their administration."
He doesn't know what that means.
Frequent?
Too frequent?
This has happened before?
"Halp-" He manages to wheez out.
"Oh, shh." The man say's, like he'd forgotten Remy could speak.
He shakes his head and his eyes start to burn, something so intensley painfull seeping into his retinas that he begins to scream only he doens't have a voice and it comes out quiet and harsh and useless.
He can't even scream.
Oh God.
Mon Dieu!
He shakes his head and feels something wet down his face.
He can't tell if it's tears or if it's blood.
He wants it to end. Wants the fire to stop and the burning to leave. . . he wants to hold his face. . . wants his hands free. . .
He wants to roll over and cry and scream but all he can do is lay on his back and feel something forgein and awful course through him.
He's hot now, the table is wet with his sweat and whatever's coming out of his eyes.
He feels like he's melting.
Like he's dying and then another needle glints to his right and he hears the *clack* *clack* *clack* right next to him.
It stops.
His heart is pounding painfully in his chest.
"Nuu-uhn." He tries to scream but there's nothing he can do.
The needle sinks into him and he cringes, helpless and wracked with fire and pain.
He doesn't want this.
He doens't want this.
He doesn't want this.
He shakes his head weakly but the needle is already deeply imbeded into him and he can't get it out.
Something cool and strange and less painful enters his body.
It fights the fire.
He lays still and let's it.
The figure just watches as his body goes to war with itself. The two injections fighting back and forth. One trying to kill him. . . the other possibly trying to save him. Both feeling like agony.
He feels the second win as his body grows weak and exhausted from fear and pain.
There's a hand on his forhead now, gentle and almost calming.
He still can't see who it is but he does kind of know.
Sinister still needs him.
He isn't going to kill him. . . not like this and so Remy just tries to accept that he isn't dying tonight.
"Shh." The figure say's again and he know's who it is.
He nods, body slowly losing it's aches and pains as it turns to jelly.
"This won't happen again. Next time I'll administer a proper dosage."
He feels like he's shrinking up inside at the words.
Next time.
He doesn't want a next time and something wipes at his face, taking away the blood and the tears.
He doesn't want a next time.
"Shh." The figure say's and then there's a small pinch and he know's something else has been injected into him.
He wants to scream but he can't and slowly the lights fade and his eyes close and his last trembling thought is that if he closes his eyes now he'll die.
A last, strangled wave of terror- almost more than he can manage and then the world slips away from him.
Sinister moves around the lab table, looking down at his subject.
He wasn't supposed to have woken up but it really isn't a problem.
He's gotten what he needs out of him tonight and once the man is properly sedated he finishes his notes, takes his blood pressure and temperature, a little bit of blood and sends him back to his room.
This happens every now and then.
Too many nights on his opperating table and they grow resiliant to his drugs.
He'll just have to make sure the dosage is adjusted to LeBeau's system next time.
Curious though. . . he really hadn't been expecting the man to wake up. Usually he's better than this at estimating when to up the sedatives for his patients.
Perhaps in future he'll keep LeBeau awake and see what difference it makes. See how much he can take.
The man might be scared but in the morning he'll remember it all as a bad dream. . . if he remembers anything at all.
He smiles to himself and turns out the lights in his lab, mind turning over the possibilities and planning the next round of tests and trials.
Mutants represent untold potential and if anyone is going to master the X-gene it's going to be him.
Mutants and men like LeBeau have no idea how valuable they are to the future.
He thinks of Scott and feels a slight stab of resentment.
His greatest prize.
His greatest prize gone.
So much potential but the boy had slipped through his fingers.
He wasn't going to let that happen again.
No, not again and for now he has a batch of mostly willing subjects. For one reason or another all of his Marauders owe him something and it keeps them in place. Keeps them from running away and he gives them their freedoms- provided they know when to toe the line and when to come home. . .
So far they always come back.
Maybe one day he'll even get his Scott back.
Wouldn't that be interesting?
Thanks so much for reading! I always thought Sinister was one of the creepiest villains!