He couldn't really tell how long it had been dark for. See, as far as Delsin was concerned, it had been way longer than just an hour or so, but honestly, he thought snidely, it was little hard to tell since he couldn't, well, see. Just after he'd struck the deal, and the concrete consumed him, there was only the vague sense, from where he could tell, that there'd been movement of some kind. Of course, that had to be the case (because why would they just stay there, obviously), but also, because he could feel it...at least, in the loosest sense. There was no real way to gauge how far they'd gone, or how long they'd been gone for, but each bump, each nick, each twist and turn from the vehicles he'd been into to the sensation of being carried all culminated to tell him one thing.
He was going a far way from Seattle.
That, or they were just trying to deliberately confuse him.
He figured it was probably a combination both of those things if he knew Augustine and the rest of her lot well enough.
Always with the fuckin' misdirection and all of that.
Regardless, he had to admit that all of this moving and not knowing where it was that they were going, not to mention not having a single, fucking clue which direction they were going, or for how long they were going in that direction, or whether they'd flipped and gone the other way was...really disorienting.
Maybe even a little scary, too.
In the heat of the moment, he thought, looking back to...however long it's been since he last saw Reggie and the others, it never really occurred to him that by doing this...he might never see them again.
Weird, right? Delsin thought, back before there were life and death scenarios to consider, that he'd be just a bit more careful before signing over his life and freedom to some basket case he'd just met less than a month ago. Maybe it never occurred to him that he would even be in a situation like that to have to make a choice like that, or even more, that whackjobs like Augustine even existed to give him ultimatums like that.
If you asked him, he thought having shit like that pulled on him was just that: bullshit. Yet, looking back, and thinking on it, never in the midst of this reflection did he ever consider doing anything differently.
Though, he thought with a line of empty humor, he was sure when his brother woke up, he'd probably feel differently. He was certain that Reggie would probably tell him something like "Delsin, you should have just let me go!, or "Delsin, I'm so mad at you!, things like that. Whatever it was, he didn't need to hear any of it to know that Reggie wasn't happy with his decision, though, the young man thought with a smile, when was he ever happy with his decisions?
Like, ever?
Despite his dire situation, the irony in that was at least a bit uplifting, though, in that same breath, there was an understanding that this all felt really...bittersweet. He'd be able to remember his brother...but to never speak with him again? Just the thought of it was...a lot. And that isn't even considering Fetch and Eugene, and what would happen to them.
He wasn't that worried about Reggie. A stick-in-the-mud like him had a job, had a future, but Fetch and Eugene? He was still stuck on whether he could believe that Augustine would even let up and allow the two of them go and live regular lives, but what would they do afterwards? Did they have lives to go back to? Could they lead regular lives as conduits? He wasn't concerned that it wasn't him there leading them...but he just felt sick to his stomach knowing that...he couldn't be there to protect them. That he just had to have faith that...they'd be okay.
God, just having to resign to an answer like that was torture on its own.
He'd never get confirmation, he could never check-in, nothing.
So if they were dead, he wouldn't even know -
'No, shut the fuck up, me. Shit is bad enough without all of these sad thoughts, so cut it out!' He chastised himself, closing eyes again his own doubt. He had to think positive; if he didn't, and he believed they wouldn't, and he couldn't do that because that would be a clusterfuck.
No, they were fine.
They didn't need him to be okay.
If anything...they might be better without him there, making things harder for them then they already had been. Besides, Fetch was great at graffiti and Eugene was great a playing video games; he was sure they could make that work for them.
They would be just fine.
He just hoped they all wouldn't be too mad at him if they figured out what he did.
Sighing, or, what he thought was sighing (it was kind of hard to breathe that heavily inside of the concrete) he felt whatever he was in come to a stop, the vibrations from the vehicle changing to footsteps as things (what he was assuming were people) moved around him. In that moment, he felt himself lifted up, and for a second, he thought maybe, finally, they had arrived at Curdun Cay, that he could finally take a breath that didn't taste like stone, but he'd gotten his hopes up too soon. After a minute or so of silence and stillness, he felt himself be lifted again, but this time, instead of being stood up, something changed. Before, where he had been stood up and secured wherever they had been before, this time, he felt his captors rotate him, turning him as if they were going to lay him on his back, and onto a surface he couldn't identify. There was the vague feeling of agitation stirring within him (how long did they think that he wanted to hang around in this thing; his muscles were beginning to cramp up) as they moved around him, and he could sort of tell that straps were pinning him to something as he could just hear the clicks of something, but really, he wasn't sure.
Hell, he wasn't sure of much at the moment.
Well, except that maybe he was FUCKIN' TIRED OF THIS SHIT.
Regardless, it wasn't as though he could put up too much of a fight anyway, and after a few minutes, he could tell that they were off yet again.
'How many times are we gonna change hands here? Getting real sick of all this suspense here, guys. I might just die of boredom before we even get there.' He said in his mind, realizing quickly that it wasn't as though anyone but himself could hear him, but that didn't bother him too much. The DUPs were never much for conversation out in the wild anyway, though, he had to admit that it was weird, only having his thoughts to keep him occupied, even for just the right to the compound.
He wasn't sure he was a fan of that part.
The...silence.
Just him and his own mind, turning over questions he couldn't answer, and no one to speak to... it felt...odd. Then again, he chuckled to himself, he was a bit of a chatterbox, so maybe that didn't help.
Yeah, it was just that. He was sure they would get there soon, and honestly, he reminded himself tensely, it wasn't as though he was really in a rush to get there anyway.
He had to remember: once he crossed that threshold into Curdun Cay...that would the entry into the rest of his life. So he might as well enjoy the sensation of traveling while he could.
- (Same place, same time) -
There are few moments of Augustine's life that she could really say that she'd secured real victories. For the better part of it, she'd say, she hadn't many to call her own. Be it the conceding of her efforts in the service, the little girl she'd...failed...all of those years ago...she had to admit that maybe the only one that she could really call a victory was the creation of Curdun Cay. Her safe haven, her hunting grounds, her nursery, it was whatever she wanted it to be and when, and more than that, it was her domain.
No one could tell her how to handle her inmates. No one could swoop in and tell her how things were supposed to work. This was her life's purpose, to provide what she could for the monsters society thought they were.
However, it some cases, some victories were more...notable than others, and looking to her left, where a stony, concreate cocoon rested, she couldn't think of anything that encompassed such thoughts than that which she looked upon right then and there. That was right, the woman gleaned with a smile as her hand grazed the upright casket of her greatest adversary: Delsin Rowe. The biggest thorn in her side that she'd finally managed to best.
Of course, by her own admission, she hadn't exactly fought fair either, not that that bothered her too much. If she'd learned anything, using any means necessary when dealing with Bio-terrorists was simply a means of ensuring the best possible results, and with subjects as...unpredictable as Delsin, nor as powerful. The very notion of it, a conduit with the capacity to absorb and then utilize the powers of other conduits was nothing short of extraordinary, not to mention his propensity for using core relays to bolster that power...she was sure that if he'd remained unchecked, he surely would have posed a problem further down the road. It was just convenient that he just...handed himself over like he did, what, with Hank's assistance and everything.
'It almost makes not killing him outright worth it.' She mused darkly as she took her hand from Delsin's shell, and turned towards the front of the helicopter that had been transporting them; in the distance, she could see grand, spiraling towers of Curdun Cay Station at last. Closing her eyes, she had to stop herself from smiling as the sense of triumph washed over her, full, encompassing, overwhelming, even, in the midst of the mess that this one person could...and yet, none of that mattered.
Not anymore.
Touching down upon the ground, landing at long last, the feeling didn't fade, growing to become surreal as a burgeoning excitement rose in her chest, and, departing first before they unloaded Delsin, she watched with every bit of self-control as her most interesting subject was moved from the cockpit of the aircraft, and out onto the snow-covered strips of the entry point of the station. She made strides to keep paces with the gurney that he was strapped to, and in her timed steps, each of her soldiers, locked in position on either side of the strip, saluted to her as she and her attendees entered the opening gates of the compound. Augustine didn't need to squint as great columns of air brushed over them at the opening of the grand maw of entrance, the vacuumed-sealed tunnel working to pull them in from just the pressure alone.
Nothing that she wasn't already used to.
Gesturing forward, her attendees went forward, pushing ahead into a concealed area of the main hall of the station as they were greeted by the massive overhead lights of the entry area, an apex of activity and dark, slate, industrial metal rooted along curved pathways and rooves higher than one could see. From the common onlooker, it was a clandestine maze, wrought with turning entrances, twisting exits, and every manner of precaution to keep the dissatisfied inmate from getting any ideas about leaving.
It was the perfect holding place for superhumans who, from her personal experience, were particularly difficult to contain.
And by any metric, the perfect place to hold the most powerful of them all.
Turning into a pathway further in from the entrance, she could hear the heavy door come down once more, a painfully slow process, but a certain one, as each lock, click, and securement meant nothing would leave. Turning back just once more before following them into the decontamination wing, she allowed herself to smile, a much earned one as the rest of her soldiers fanned out, taking up their typical posts as the next bell rang.
How pleasant.
He was right on time for lunch.
Pointing to one of her soldiers, she gestured for him to come to her, and her followed with question, rushing to her side and saluting her in kind. Disregarding the act, she turned to him, her typical, stoic expression returning to her features.
"Ensure that the designation 'Rowe, Delsin' is granted a meal. Place it in the reserve cell as his registration is handled. Is that clear?" She ordered, and at once, they nodded in compliance.
"Yes, Director Augustine." They exclaimed obediently, rushing off to the eating hall to handle that, she assumed. Regardless, it would be handled, and now, turn her attention back to the task at hand. Traversing the brightly lit corridor, embedded lights on either side within the walls stagnant and unyielding, she was met by several guards who, at her appearance, parted from the entrance of the decontamination unit, allowing her entry. Within, the gurney had been pulled to a stop, left in the care and attention of each of her attendees and each of her guards, numbering twelve, if she counted correctly.
Sure, it seemed excessive, but with this one, you never knew what to expect.
Though, she thought coyly, she didn't think he'd resort to doing anything stupid, what with his tribe and friends on the line. It was nothing to remove the concrete from each of them...and it would be nothing to put it back, either. So whilst she would keep the guards and her attendees...something told her that she wouldn't have to worry about him trying to run.
He knew just as well as he did that anywhere he went...she'd be there to follow with the full force of the DUP.
Walking up to the gurney, she gave it just one last look-over with her eyes before turning to her attendees, waving for them to unstrap him and place him, finally, back upon the ground. Standing full and center, Augustine reached out her hand, and from within her, a natural part of her called back, the power of concrete manifested as the first cracks in his stony tomb appeared.
It was time for the fun to begin.
- (Same time, same place) -
When the first beads of light erupted from his concrete casing, Delsin almost felt himself shout with excitement, and he probably would have, if he weren't gasping for air. In fact, it felt as though he couldn't get enough air fast enough as the young man, feeling his incasement crumble away, struggled to pull himself free of its hold as he fell haplessly to the ground, gripping his chest. He hadn't realized just how little air he'd been getting all that time; just the notion of breathing hurt itself once he'd managed to stop gasping, settling for taking deep, drawing breaths, all the while, grimacing at the way his joints whined at the sudden movements. In short, he thought, everything was fucking hurting and all at once, it seemed, the youth squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to get himself together.
'Breathe...breathe...you're alive, just a little sore, that's all...'sides, we've been in jail cells worst than that...' He tried to joke with himself, but his body seemed to disagree, radiating with displeasure and discomfort at having been kept in the same position for so long. When he felt his panic and achiness subside a bit, he managed to crack his eyes open just a bit, only to be met with steel boots and a room full of faces he didn't recognize (or more like masks)...accept for one.
Augustine's.
Even in this over-lit hellscape, he could read the smug lines in her stoic face, clear as day. It was the face of someone that really believed that they'd bested him
Not that that assumption wasn't technically right.
Looking away from her, if the million or so guards and fancy big wigs wasn't enough of a tell, he figured out pretty quickly that he was here.
He was in Curdun Cay Station.
Parting from them, his eyes scanned the blank, white room with confusion, eyeing shower heads, hoses, and other little things that didn't necessarily give him positive feelings, if he had to simplify what he was thinking at the time. If he had to guess, this looked like a sort of cleaning area or something, like a shower for the conduits, but, it was way too small to hold as many as he was sure were here, so it wasn't that, or at least, he thought it wasn't. Regardless, looking back at the soldiers and Augustine, he had to admit that he felt a bit freaked out, having all of them staring at him like that at once.
It was weird enough where, despite feeling pretty shitty, it would feel better to break up the awkward tension with a bit of humor, he figured. Smiling weakly, he turned to Augustine, gesturing to the rest of the room as he spoke.
"So...is this your idea of a welcome? Gotta say, I was expecting a bit more when I knew I was coming to Curdun Cay, though, I guess having a stick up your ass makes you a little shit at planning out a welcoming party, right? Heh - " The reaction time of the guard to Augustine's right was unreal as, quicker than he could react, he'd smashed the end of his rifle into Delsin's face, sending the young man into the sterile, tile floor in one, swift movement. In fact, it was fast enough that Delsin hadn't even realized that he was bleeding until he looked down, only to see a small puddle of blood collecting where is face had planted on the floor. A breath passed before he turned back over, using one arm to lean on as he used the other to wipe his nose, which he was sure was broken by now.
'Ah, right...so they don't like jokes, either. Got it." He noted, and stranger, still, no one seemed to flinch when the guard did that. In fact, Augustine didn't seem as though she'd noticed it at all when it had happened, and instead, decided to continue on as if he hadn't said anything at all.
This was fucking weird.
"Welcome to Curdun Cay, Inmate Number RD-7821-SC. It is wonderful to have you here, and we hope that you enjoy your stay here at your new home. Now, before we begin - " Before she could finish, Delsin cut in, waving her away dismissively, and whilst the other soldiers reacted to his perceived disrespect, he ignored them, clenching his nose as he spoke.
"You know, you can skip past all of this formality bullshit. I only need to know one thing, then you can do what you want: are my folks and my friends okay?" He demanded to know, his cutting eyes unyielding. Smiling gingerly at him, she leaned down, crouching just in-front of him without breaking her line of sight.
"Oh, I can assure you. I always hold up my end of the bargain...can you say the same?" She asked, and without giving him time to answer, she continued, leaving him with more questions than answers, standing once again.
What did that mean? Why was everything with this lady vague and more confusing than simply not asking at all? Why couldn't she just give him straight answers? Why was she so goddamn infuriating?!
"Look, can you just tell it to me straight?! I'm not in the mood for your vague bullshi - " She was back in-front of him before he could finish, her taut, gloved hand was ripping off his beanie and tossing it to the ground before she took in a handful of his dark locks, gripping them so tightly that he feared she might yank them out. However, she never kneeled, almost at full standing height even when he struggled to meet her where she stood. All the while she didn't look at him, struggling and cursing all the while, but with each profane word he uttered, he felt her grip intensify.
It became bad enough where he couldn't find the words at all to speak, the pain too much to talk.
Why...what was she...doing...why was she -
"Here at Curdun Cay Station, we do not tolerate profane or obscene language. It goes against our principles of self-discipline and respect for the establishment you have been so graciously accepted into to. Is that clear, RD-7821-SC?" She espoused, seemingly unmoved by his struggling.
Getting the sense that this wouldn't stop unless he complied, Delsin didn't hesitate to do just that.
"Yeah, yeah! OKAY, FINE, I'LL - " However, this didn't work, her grip becoming tight enough where he felt tears begin to brim in the corners of his eyes. Delsin was confused; what had he done wrong? He said yes, so why wasn't she -
A yank up from her hand choked the thoughts from his mind, and despite this display, none of the soldiers moved or spoke at all.
They were just as still before any of this went down.
"Answers that deviate from the accepted 'Yes, Director Augustine' will not be tolerated. Is that clear, RD-7821-SC?" She responded again, yanking up again at his lagging time between his answers. Quickly, he scrambled to grip her gloved hand, bleeding nose flinging the red substance over his clothes and the tiled floor as he rushed to answer.
"Y-yes! YES, I - " It didn't relent still.
He was still doing it wrong.
"Unacceptable answer. That will be 'Yes, Director Augustine'. Is that clear?" She asked him calmly, and when he felt his scalp growing wet, he answered, desperate to say the right thing.
"Y-yes, Director Augustine!" He shouted over the pain, and after a moment, nodding her head in satisfaction, she released him, the young adult thudding to the floor as he gripped his head in agony, cradling himself as the woman stepped away, turning towards a small cart that, in the midst of the all of that, must have been pushed in at some point. However, he didn't care about any of that, minding only the terrible, crushing throb of his head.
'What...WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HER?!' He cursed out in his mind, biting the urge to call her all manner of name that came to his mind, and if he wasn't already feeling like shit, he probably would have. He was already getting the impression that he really wasn't going to like it here, but he wouldn't exactly have the chance to rescind his choice as he noticed Augustine pick up a sort of collar from the cart that he'd seen before. His reddened, tired eyes could make out its coursing, electric design from his vantage of the floor, and with her same, gloved hands, she pressed a small button on the outside as the binding hummed to life. He had enough of a mind to wonder about it, opening his mind to ask what it was, though just as quickly, a guard had come over to him, pulling him up by his sore arms, something that really didn't please Delsin as, despite knowing he probably shouldn't have, he could feel himself struggling against their grip.
Yet despite his meager efforts, they'd managed to get him back over to Augustine, and stranger, still...he found his body oddly adverse to being near her. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but he felt...sick being near her, his head throbbing to match this newfound sensation. He wasn't sure what to name it, but it didn't feel good, not when he was met, face-to-face, with the same person who'd nearly scalped him about ten seconds ago. Despite this, he was forced to his knees, and in one fluid motion, they'd peeled off his jacket, tossing it aside carelessly even when he fought against it.
He seemed to be doing that a lot.
Fighting as hard as he could...only for them to do what they wanted to anyway.
He didn't like that all. He didn't like feeling...powerless. Like something they could pick up, toss around, or do whatever they wanted, and he couldn't do anything about it.
It made him feel...weak.
Really...fucking...weak.
And Delsin Rowe wasn't weak.
But that didn't mean he would stop trying, though. He sure as hell wasn't going to make this process easy for them, and even if that meant he had to get smacked around a little bit to make them work for it, he was okay with that.
Because being here, for the short time he had been, he could confidently and whole-heartedly say...fuck Curdun Cay.
Gritting his teeth, he did everything he could to pull away from the closing teeth of the collar that Augustine wavered near his neck, with the guard making an effort to hold his head (something that Delsin wasn't really pleased about, mind you), it was a struggle that only lasted a moment since, as soon as that collar closed around his neck, and he felt its whirring breath against his skin, all at once he felt himself grow weak. In that same breath, they let him go, again allowing him to fall to floor, doing little, if anything, to halt his fall, the conduit barely catching himself before meeting the floor with his face once more. This thing...the collar...felt as though it was sapping just about every bit of energy from him, as if the very act of thinking was more than he thought he could handle. Grasping at it weakly, he almost seemed to pull at it, but his waning, sluggish strength made it impossible for him to make it budge even slightly.
"W-what...what's going...on? What...w-what did you do to me?" He spat weakly, finding that even just keeping his eyes open was a chore. But Augustine likely anticipated this question, eying his slightly as she turned to her attendee, dismissively addressing him as if the question was all too obvious.
"Well, we can't have you waltzing around here unchecked, now can we? That, RD-7821-SC, is just a precaution. Think of it...as a much needed leash on a very, unruly dog, if you would. Right now, it might be a bit much for you, but we can make adjustments later when you earn them. For now, I'm sure you'll fair just fine like that, won't you?" At her words, he paled. He would like this...for how long? How long would it take to earn it being "adjusted"? Struggling against his own fatigue, he opened his mouth to protest...but found only whispers int the place of words. It was hard, even thinking of the words, much less speak them as he had to force the air from his lungs to form them, but still, they wouldn't come. Taking his silence as compliance, she watches him for a moment more, a long, drawn out meeting out their eyes, before she smiled, that same, cold, grin that made him want to do something, anything, to wipe it off her face.
It really pissed him off, seeing her look smug.
However, he wouldn't get to act on that, with the woman calling to the guards.
"Alright, begin the decontamination process. Don't let an inch of him go uncleaned, understand?" The older woman ordered, her, ton strange.
But Delsin didn't get the chance to dwell on this.
As always, they followed suit, and just as she'd left, she gave him one, last look...then disappeared down the hall once more.
And soon after, the masses descended upon him.
He felt them pull him from the ground, forceful in their grips as a set of guards secured his arms, another set his legs, and all at once, much to Delsin's distaste, began to undress him.
"W-why...stop...I said stop it - " Of course, they didn't listen to him, peeling off his shirt and just about each and every layer of clothing he had left to spare. They didn't care how hard he fought (which, by his own admission, wasn't very hard, but he was trying), how much he struggled, how many times he told them to stop...none of them listened. That sick, cold feeling rose in his chest as, with little care, they stripped him bare, leaving him just in his briefs on the cold, hard tile. Curled up there, he fought tooth and nail to catch every guard and attendant with the hardest glare he could muster, though he figured it must not have been very threatening, what, with him being nearly nude at this point. Despite this, he tried, watching with tired, but angry, eyes as the agents spoke amongst themselves.
"You, prepare Bay 002 for primary decontamination process. And you, remove his undergarments; they are to be taken to Chute A-12 and disposed. Move promptly." One of the Attendants, a lighter, effeminate voice, ordered, and akin to how they responded to Augustine, they moved as a single, uninterrupted mass.
But their words only, then, struck him.
It was only as they fell upon him, grasping at the helm of his briefs, that a spark of lost strength awakened in him. Maybe it was the realization that he was about to be stripped nude in-front of a room full of strangers, or that his clothes were about to be thrown away, or that they were going to "decontaminate" him. What the fuck did that mean? He didn't want to find out, honestly, not when he was already having this shitty of a day.
"N-no! Get...get off - STOP - " It didn't matter, though. With six people on top of him, it was only a matter of time before they'd wrestled them off of him (not that they'd had a particularly difficult time), taking the white garment from his body, and dropping it into a red, sealed bag before that, along with the rest of his clothes, were shuttled away down a different hall, one across the decontamination unit and into a hallway he couldn't make out. But worse than that, he felt, was the sheer, violent humiliation of his nudity, and the immediate sense that everyone, every, last one of those assholes, were laughing at him. He did his best to cover himself, cupping himself and curling away from them as he did his best to protect what little dignity he had left.
Part of him just wanted to think that maybe all of this was just one, terrible dream, and eventually, he would wake up, back home, in his bed, with Betty nagging him or Reggie telling him to stop spray-painting stuff, anything would be fine, really. Anything that took him far, far away from these faceless masks, the cold tile, the collars, the hurting, would be nice...and he'd only been here, for what? An hour?
How did Fetch, Eugene, and Hank do this for as long as they had?
God, no wonder they were itching to get out of this place.
"RD-7821-SC has been primed for decontamination; we are clear to continue." The guard that had been the one to pull them from his body exclaimed, though, after reporting it, they looked back at Delsin. He wasn't sure, and perhaps it was just his imagination or his paranoia, but...he didn't like the feeling of him...staring at him. Sure, he had his mask on, and he couldn't see his face, but there was an odd...discomfort in the way that they just...stood there, saying...nothing.
He was almost glad when someone else came to pick him up, rushing him from the floor, each groggy, heavy step taking far more effort than it would have if he'd been without the collar, but he got there nonetheless...for better or for worse. When they had him in the position that they wanted him in, there was a passing moment of confirmation between each of the guards, and then, to the attendant who gave them the clear.
"Proceed." They said.
And just like that, he wished they hadn't.
From the head above him, trickles of hellishly cold water doused him through and through, a terrible sensation to pair with the dull-throbbing that was left behind from Augustine's hand.
'Fuck, that's cold! God, can't these guys just give me a break?' He thought tiredly, shuddering violently with each second that passed, all the while, just at to make sure he wasn't deviating (he'd have to make sure to thank them when he got the chance), two guards on either side of him poked and prodded at him when he "waned" a bit too much for their liking. He couldn't tell how long he'd actually been standing there for, but it felt long enough that when they did finally shut off the shower, his joints screamed from having locked...again.
It was becoming hard to keep up as he was pulled somewhere else, another corner of the chamber, then directed to stand with his hands to the wall. At this point, he noticed, he was really only following their instructions with the hopes that it would allow them to just get it over with; he'd figured out that fighting them would only prolong the process, but god, his body was really taking a toll with all of this, but he tried anyway to maintain his balance bracing himself for whatever came next. Yet, even with any level of preparation, he knew he'd never be ready for what they'd decided to do next, matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.
"Priming the second portion of the decontamination process: rinsing now." Another guard rang out, one that sounded more feminine, as far as he could tell. It made it easier to tell (or at least he thought it did) who was doing what if maybe he could recognize their voices, though frankly, he was having a hard time differentiating them at the moment. No matter how hard he tried, they all just blended together into one, faceless hoard.
Besides, who could think of all that stuff when this was happening, too.
Not to mention whilst being sprayed down with a hose to boot.
The stream was daunting, painful against his skin with each run the guard did over every inch of his body, and when they would tell him to rotate, allowing them to get everything. What matched the shower in temperature, it surpassed it in sheer brutality, enough to make him slip up, one of those forbidden words tumbling from his lips. At the time, it had been reflex, and when he realized he'd said it, he'd hoped that the stream of virulent water would be enough to mask him fucking up not even ten minutes after Augustine left (which he couldn't have been happier for since he didn't think his scalp could take much more from her), but the guards, and especially the attendee, weren't kinder in that way.
"Refrain from objectionable language RD-7821-SC!" They called out, the effeminate attendant taking out a small switch, and striking him across the back with it in the midst of his wash. The contact made him jump, more from surprise than pain, thought that wasn't to suggest that it didn't hurt, because it definitely did. Then it struck him: why the hell do they keep calling him that?
Of course, he figured that, with it being a jail and all, it was probably too much for him to hope for his name to be used, but instead, they'd likely give him some weird designation or something like that. But RD-7821-SC? God, could they get more uptight about this?
He considered fighting them on that, too, maybe ask for them to call him by his name, or at the very least, find something that doesn't belong on a barcode. Literally anything would be better than that., but by the time he mustered even a bit of the courage to ask, they pulled him over to another area, leaving him little time to really getting his footing, stumbling the entire way over there.
"Jesus, what now - " Delsin felt his skin sting from the tongue of the switch, effectively silencing him though his eyes flared with protest. What, he couldn't even speak now?! His question would be answered in kind, a stately response from the second attendant this time, a more masculine voice that contrasted with the others more feminine one.
"Do not speak unless you are referred to, RD-7821-SC." They stated, their tone calm, droning...robotic, pulling the switch away only to reveal a red mark where it had struck him. He had to say, those hurt more when his skin was wet, but more than that, something about them not calling him by his name was particularly irritating. Bristling, the young man turned around, and though subconsciously he knew this was absolutely the stupidest thing he could have chosen to do, his mind just wouldn't let it rest, fury rising in his tone as he turned around to meet where their eyes would have been beneath the helmets.
"My name is FUCKING DELSIN! Stop CALLING me that - " This time, a single, lashing reminder wouldn't be all that he received. Delsin tensed as both of the attendants came forth, bearing their switches in unison. Of course, he sort of knew what was coming, you know, because why else would they have them up and the ready, but he hadn't expected...both of them.
They remained there for a moment, two looming bodies over his...strangely smaller one, despite him being rather tall, but here, he thought quietly, he felt far...smaller.
Too small...too little. Especially with their dark masks, bearing down upon him with unmoved, silent visages of displeasure he didn't need to see their faces to understand, and to be honest, he thought irritably...this shit was getting old.
"Do not speak out of turn to your superiors, RD-7821-SC!"
One switch from each hand.
"Do not object to the whims of your superiors, RD-7821-SC!"
Another strike.
"Respect your superiors through your silence, RD-7821-SC!"
A third strike.
"Behave, RD-7821-SC!"
Then another.
"Behave, RD-7821-SC! Behave, RD-7821-SC! Behave, RD-7821-SC - " At some point, they'd stopped speaking, resorting only the striking him, again, and again, and again, and again, until even Delsin couldn't tell how many times they had. Sure, at first he'd tried to keep count of them, getting somewhere in the twenties before it began to hurt too much to focus, then it became numb, enough where when he realized that they'd finally stopped, he couldn't even tell that he'd been bleeding, until, as he was pulled into another spot, he caught a glimpse of the red droplets that had dripped onto the once pristine tile floor.
He couldn't help it, thinking that he was making a mess on the floor, and that one of these assholes would have to clean it up.
At least in that way, he was still being a nuisance, in a sort of tangential way.
But even stranger? Even though moving hurt (especially after something like that)...he felt his desire to defy them again become definitively...smaller. Between the fatigue, the lashes, the eyes on him, the coldness and pain from the shower and hose, and the trip here, his energy to be spent on making a fuss was...less than he'd have hoped. Delsin didn't want to make this easy from him; he'd already handed himself over to them, to Augustine...but that was only because he had a reason to.
That Reggie, Fetch, Eugene, and the tribe were worth doing this for.
But it wasn't in the agreement that he had to be an obedient, little bitch, too. So he'd resolved himself to making their jobs as hard as he could, to making each step in the process and his time here as dreadful (or at least somewhat dreadful) for them as it he was getting the sense that it would be for him...but he had to admit. They had a way of wearing you down, fighting, and criticizing until you just...wanted to do what they said, and he'd been here, what? An hour, maybe?
But how? He couldn't just...lay down and let them do what they wanted, or, he sort of had to, he understood that, but surely this wasn't all the fight he had in him.
'Fuck no! FUCK THESE GUYS! WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?!' He reminded himself furiously, a sense of reinvigorated defiance rushing through him. His name wasn't RD...ABC...1 2 3, or whatever they wanted to call it; he was Delsin...Fucking...ROWE, and his best quality was that he was an asshole! He wouldn't just bend over and take this from them, not without a fight first.
Yeah!
He was the Banner Man, The Smoketasic Man, he was, he was... (a title he gave himself, but it still counted); and it didn't matter how many times they yelled at him.
It didn't matter how many times they hit him.
He didn't care.
He was still him, still Delsin, and he would take whatever they threw at them, and more than that, whatever Augustine's bitch ass could cook up in that cunt head of hers.
Because he knew...that he could take it.
This seemed to be the final station, seeing as the room led out into what looked like a corridor, matching the one that had been on the other side that Augustine had left out of. Of course, each of the guards and attendants followed suit, standing at varying points on the last portion of the unit, and from a far, he could hear, was another cart, rolling in from the end hallway that led into, from what he assumed, the rest of Curdun Cay. Upon it, he was able to glean...clothes! He felt himself grow excited at the notion of not being naked anymore, even gracing himself with a small, tired smile as that had to mean this whole shit-show would be coming to an end pretty soon.
'Thank god! I can finally get these guys off my back for a while! Then I can think and rest...or try to, I guess. I don't care, just as long as I get the hell out of here!' The young man thought with relief, looking expectantly toward the cart, waiting for one of them to direct him over to it, or to bring it to him, whatever it was that they were going to do.
But at the time, he noticed, it was strangely silent, save for another cart that was rolled up beside it.
And on it...was a pair of gloves, a hypodermic needle, a strange, clear fluid in a bottle, and a long, singular, cotton swab, much to his confusion.
'What is all of that for?' He wondered, giving them all a strange look as the same guard, the one that had been staring at him before, accompanied a doctor or scientist (probably a doctor), as far as he could tell, if his white coat and black scrubs were any indication. The man stopped short of Delsin, eying him absently before regarding the guard to his left, their blank, shaded look never leaving their face.
"Direct him to the purging area. Secure him." The man stated, a monotone voice echoing the command that was, as always, followed without hesitation, but the conduit couldn't name it, the strange, foreboding feeling that filled his gut at his words.
Purging area?
He...didn't like the sound of that at all, but noticing his own apprehension, he redirected his focus, assuring himself that he would be fine.
'Whatever these asshats have planned, it can't be any worse than they've already done. I've got this, I've got this, I've - ' In the middle of his mantra, he could feel the guard snatch his hands from where he'd been covering himself, exposing his soft flesh to the rest of the room as, just like he had before, Delsin was positioned, spread eagle, and with his backside pushed out, as if he were doing a sort of squat, along its cold surface. This did, in some sense, confuse him as, with each limb the guard positioned, each arm was clasped down by metal bindings, closing around his wrists. He didn't spare the man the trouble of having him struggle with each motion, and though the conduit knew he wouldn't be able to fight him off, he sure as hell tried to.
He would always try, no matter what happened.
But he'd be lying if he didn't feel his stomach turn as he heard the clap of gloves behind him.
What the fuck were the doing?
"Has RD-7821-SC been secured as per protocol?" The doctor asked solemnly, though, he noted his tone was one of...knowing, as if he'd known the answer before it was even said as, even before the guard who strapped him spoke, low, dark tones, raspy and grating against Delsin's sensitive ears, the man was already striding towards him. Each careful, daunting step made his blood run cold, until finally, he was just behind him, and Delsin could hear it, the man's careful breaths as he kneeled, the current of air from his movements strangely still despite knowing that he had.
In another motion, he felt the man grazing the skin of his buttock, parting them as if looking for something, and at this touch, even in knowing that he would surely be punished for it, he couldn't help the indignant, shocked bite of his words at the man.
"WHAT THE HELL?! STO - " Again, the switch came down, but from which of them, he didn't know, and honestly, he didn't care.
"You are in violation of several the established expectations for your behavior, RD-7821-SC, many of which include - " Thrashing against his bindings, even with his diminished strength, he made it very clear that he didn't want to hear whatever bullshit they had to say. But that didn't seem to stop the doctor from continuing, and even worse, he could feel something tease the edge of his anus, breaching just a bit for he pulled away again, or rather, tried to.
"I DON'T CARE! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I SAID STOP - " Before the attendants could strike him again, Delsin felt the doctor move behind him, coming to a stand before turning to the attendants himself.
"I cannot work in these conditions. Unruly subjects are too difficult to work with, you understand this, yes?" He remarked to them in that same strange, calm voice that made him want to punch him in the face.
Unruly? UNRULY?! He was unruly because he didn't want people reaching up his ass? Hell, he could take it if it were a prostate exam or something since at least he understood why it had to be done, but doing it just because they said so?
Yeah, fuck that.
He wasn't a dog that you could just reach up the ass of and not have him pitch a fight about it.
Delsin wasn't sure if they knew this, but they didn't own him. He'd...come there of his volition, sure, but he wasn't about to just let them do whatever they wanted just because.
Fuck these guys. Seriously...FUCK. THEM.
He didn't hear anyone speak for a moment or two before the attendants did.
"Yes, we understand. We are advised by Director Augustine to only adjust his inhibitor by one level if he is being...uncooperative. We can do it for a minute, but any longer and he will lapse in consciousness. It is only because he has adjusted to his collar in this time that we are clearing this. Do you understand, ?" The two attendants spoke in unison, waiting for his bated reply, and as such, he agree with a single word.
"Yes." The man responded. And at that moment, Delsin strained to make sense of all of it.
So that was what this was called? An 'inhibitor'? That makes sense, all things considered, since, now that he was paying attention to it, he couldn't even feel the shimmer of his power at his fingertips as he could before. In fact, he noted with sudden clarity, he felt...human again.
It was strange.
He'd felt so...strong with his powers in his hands, with the power to ignite smoke, to fire neon, to summon hordes of electric beasts at his behest, but now? He was just...him again.
No, he was even less than that what he'd been at the start of all of this.
At least, to them, he was.
But then something else came to mind.
, huh? So that was this creepy motherfucker's name. At least now he could put a face to the name, or try to.
He'd only really gotten a glimpse of him before, and all that he could really pick out were the thick, rounded frames that rested on his face...and the odd, bulging, grey eyes that didn't seem to blink at all. But he wouldn't really get the chance to think on his features from them on.
Or rather, he wouldn't get the chance to think at all, as, all at once, he felt every once of energy leave him, even worse than before. In a breath, Delsin's body went limp, his head lolling forward with weight and exhaustion as, in that moment, too, breathing itself became a task.
'W-what...I...y-you...' He struggled to think, fighting as hard as he could to tense against his binds, sore, tired arms stretched out from the weight of his drifting body. It was horrible, the lolling, fading sensation of his mind doing whatever it could to just keep him awake. It was at this moment that, in his weakened state, he could feel something move behind him, and he knew immediately that it was the doctor. That was the thing, he could still hear what was happening, and still think (somewhat), and feel, it was just...impossible to act of what he wanted. It was as if his bones had been reduced to jelly, his muscles made of stone; he hated this, every...single...second of it.
He could feel it again, the doctor's fingers slipping quietly into him, though this time, he couldn't really fight. Delsin felt his mouth open, his mind pushing out slow, meandering thoughts that never manifested into words, and all the same, he thought with a cold chill that filled his every, waking muscle...would they have cared if he had? Would they care if he wanted them to stop?
The doctor surely didn't.
Not when he could feel him reaching further and further in, fingernails within the gloves scraping his insides, a pain he couldn't describe.
Raking again, and again, until finally, he felt them leave him, a sensation he couldn't describe as anything better than amazing. He yearned for that to never happen again, to never have anyone...touch him like that. Words couldn't describe the disgust...the humiliation...no, he didn't want to think about it.
All he wanted to do was get dressed and be done with today already.
Was that really so much to ask?
Or...he supposed it was, as he could hear him saying something else.
IT WASN'T OVER YET?
"Administering...stimulant...clear...area..." He heard Brantley say through the noise of his own rushing blood. He couldn't really make sense of what it meant (his thoughts were becoming really fuzzy), but he felt him part his cheeks around and...something stick into him. There was a brief, sharp pain, a rush of cold, then it was pulled out of him, with Brantley stepping back.
Then it came.
Part of him was glad his head was starting to get groggy as a dull, pulsing throb was beginning to fill him, migrating low and lower until it reached his backside, a burning, searing ache as something seemed to push down...and down, until -
"Purging...in...progress...subject...expelled...stool...collection..." He heard someone say, but it was beginning to become hard to distinguish what was what anymore. In fact, he could feel himself growing...faint, the sensation of his own waste dropping to the floor, and splashing up on his legs something that, in this state, even he couldn't really place.
His body felt...cold.
He...was so tired.
He didn't even flinch when he felt something long enter him again, swirling around for a bit before being pulled out, and then, no one moved for a bit.
Or maybe they had? He wasn't entirely sure anymore, his vision wavering and squeezing with each pulse of his slowing heart. It was only after a minute that he realized that he hadn't even been breathing, the young man drawing in a short gasp, the first in what felt like ages.
'So this is what they meant, huh...' His mind pondered, sudden clarity gleaning from the depths of his mind as he began to understand why it was that they didn't want to lower his inhibitor. He felt like...he was dying. Or, what he imagined dying would feel like; thankfully, that wasn't something he knew, or really wanted to, either.
But if dying felt like anything, it probably felt like this.
Maybe.
...
...
...
Then, just as soon as he'd almost closed his eyes, he felt his heart thrum unevenly, distant patter growing in intensity...rushing blood pumping ceaselessly in his ears as he felt his body buzz quietly back to what it had been before, and with a desperate, long breath, Delsin felt his sense hit him all at once.
So quickly that it actually hurt.
"Readjusting inhibitor to base levels." Each attendant stated in a matter-of-factly tone, their typical, droning words, echoing throughout the decontamination unit, filling his head as tried to get his bearings, panic setting fully in his mind.
What did they do to him? What was that pain? Why did it feel like he had -
A squelching beneath his foot gave him pause.
If there was anything that he knew he certainly didn't need right now, he was sure it wasn't stepping in his own shit. His mood had already taken a nose dive from the moment he'd entered this shit hole, so the last thing he really needed was another reason to feel more like crap than he already did. But that was just his luck, right? Because, Delsin thought with an embittered laugh, why couldn't it get worse? It was almost comedic, the conduit looking down at his foot, only to see puddles of his own stool beneath the soles of his feet. He didn't even move as he stared at it, nor the the dripping waste that trickled down his thighs.
To say he was disgusted would be criminally simplifying what he felt at that point.
No, he wasn't even sure there was a word for what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He could only remain still, silent, as behind him, he heard them unclip something, dragging it over to him, and disregarding his stunned silence.
And even more, he couldn't even understand what any of this was for. Would it have hurt them to just...explain any of this? Even just what they intended to do?
Maybe it wouldn't feel so jarring if it didn't feel like every moment was going to be a new, and even more dreadful, experience from the last. Perhaps he wouldn't feel so utterly, fucking confused if they didn't treat him like a goddamn idiot. But he knew asking was not in his best interest, and to be completely honest, the man figured without even mentioning it to them, he was almost certain that they'd probably punish him for doing so...then not even answer the question after he went through the trouble of asking. It was all the same, no matter what he did, so why would he even bother even trying to figure out what making him shit himself and...them touching him was for? He got the feeling that that was what they'd meant by purging, but purging WHAT?! HIS SHIT?! HIS FUCKING DIGNITY?!
Nothing that anything these guys did made any sense at all, and that was what bothered him most.
He didn't know what to expect.
"Cleaning area. Stand by." Again, he was sprayed down, the area around his feet, his bottom, and his thighs blasted clear with water that washed away the mess that he'd made. As nice as if felt to be clean again (despite it feeling rather unpleasant to be sprayed with a hose), he thought it was worth not being covered in...nevermind. It was bad enough that he had all this guys staring him down the entire time like an animal, and he found just...trying to ignore it, to just move on, was easier than dwelling on any of it.
He was just...over all of it.
"Decontamination process complete. Get these stool samples down to the main lab. Run under the designation RD-7821, Special Class." One of the attendants ordered, and the doctor, seeming completely disinterested in Delsin now, removed his gloves and idled over to the sink that, somehow, the conduit had missed in all of this confusion, though he managed to get a clear visage of it once he'd been released from the cuffs around each ankle and wrist. It took him a second to pull himself to a stand, legs locked in a mocking-squat that, since coming to, made his thighs burn. Slowly, he managed to place his weight on the wall, doing what he could to ease the aching of his muscles, but as with anything else, they were determined to not let him get comfortable.
Because god forbid they let him not feel like shit for a second.
"Incorrect posture qualifies as a violation, RD-7821-SC! Stand up straight, now!" Just as they had before, the switch came down on him, but it only worked to sully his mood further. It took every bit of self-control not to snatch that thing from their hands and snap them in two, but he knew that wasn't a battle he was going to win. Instead, begrudgingly, he stood up, slowly, carefully, until he was upright again, giving each of them a sullen, bitter look before, unexpectantly, he was whacked again.
"Do not attempt eye contact with your superiors, RD-7821-SC. That is also a violation!" Delsin was given pause.
Don't make eye contact? SERIOUSLY?! That's a violation?!
"Oh, what?! Next you're going to tell me that breathing is a violation, too?! FUCK YOU - " The feeling of the switch being dragged across his face was almost as shocking as the pain that followed, the tip of the weapon just narrowly missing his eye, and a sharp sting nipped at his features. There was a stark silence that followed, the taller of the two attendants drawing back his hand as if threatening another strike.
Delsin couldn't find the words to say.
"You have been warned several times, RD-7821-SC, and our patience runs thin. You are ordered to remain silent, you are ordered to not question the whims of your superiors, and you have repeatedly used unacceptable language, and these infarctions will not be tolerated. You will adhere to these tenants, is that understood?" The man barked, his own flat, robotic voice taking up a volume he didn't think possible for them. Through the frog in his throat, he weighed his options.
He was all for making their lives more difficult, but, right now...he was thoroughly over this whole process. Sure, he knew that this would look like him conceding, and as much as it stung his pride to do so, he wasn't exactly in a position to really do much fighting back right now. If anything, he was really only hurting himself, and if you asked him, he was sort of tired of being hit. Perhaps it would be best if he just...put a pin in this for a bit whilst he got his bearings, recovered his strength, but this...this wasn't over.
They hadn't won, he was just...take a rain check...for now.
That was all.
"Yes..." He answered, pulling his eyes away from them and to the door, where the doctor was now leaving, down, down into the rest of Curdun Cay, and presumably, back to wherever he'd came from.
Good.
He hoped he'd never have to see him again.
Ever.
With that issue resolved. the attendant lowered his arm, putting the switch back at his hip, then ushering the guards and the guard bearing his uniform over to them. Delsin could guess that they wanted him to get dressed, but when he reflexively reached for it, he didn't get the chance to even pick up any of the garments before, just as quickly, his hand was smacked away.
"What now - " Quickly, he corrected himself, feeling the full force of the disparaging eyes of the guards and attendants, even though he couldn't see them, but he didn't need to.
It was enough just knowing that he'd almost fucked up.
Simply, he retracted his hand, pulling it to his side, and that seemed to satisfy them as they turned back to each other, something that made Delsin's blood boil.
'Cunts...' He uttered in the back of his mind as the attendants began to speak.
"Dress him, and take him Cell Block IS-Q201. He will be relocated to special containment in a few days, but I was instructed by Director Augustine that that would be his holding for now." Before leaving, the attendant waved a small device over his inhibitor, and stranger, it hummed, glowing a shade of white, then yellow, then orange until it blinked a few times...then lost its glow. He was curious about that, too, what they had done, but he knew better than to push his luck.
Besides, fiddling with this thing could be a pastime for him when he finally got to be alone.
With that, the two attendants saluted to the room of the remaining ten guards, with eight others leaving behind the attendants, and presumably, out to their normal duties around the station. That left only two guards and Delsin himself, and with a sigh, he felt his body relax just a bit.
These were just the lackeys, so he was less worried about them making a stink all the rules and bullshit they had in this place. Again, without fear of repercussion, he reached up to take the clothes from the tray, and he'd managed to get the shirt in hand when one of the guards grasped his wrist, and it was readily apparent from the sound of the man's voice that this was the same guard that had strapped him before.
The same, strange one that had ogled him when he had first been undressed.
And it was the same one that he was now alone with.
And he wasn't usually wrong about this sort of thing, but something about him, just his general...everything...made Delsin crawl in his skin (it didn't help that he was still nude), and paying little mind to the rules, he was quick to try and tear his arm away from him, but he was not going to let him see that he was nervous.
He wouldn't give this freak the satisfaction.
"Let go, you fuckin' weirdo." Yet still, the man's grip didn't budge, though it certainly had to do with the effects of his inhibitor, much of his once superhuman strength thoroughly sapped from him with it on. But that didn't stop him from trying, the conduit pulling harder against his hold.
He didn't like this.
Didn't you hear me?! Let go - " The man's hand snapped from his wrist and to his cheeks where he clamped down...hard, pushing into his face and forcing him against the wall where the cuffs his arms had been secured in earlier idled. Delsin felt what breath he'd managed to scrounge to get blown from his lungs as the cold, reflective material showed him his own, scared expression, a look he tried to wipe from his face as even giving this guy that much satisfaction was more than he was willing to bargain. But his feigned efforts to project his lack of fear wasn't enough to stop the man, his hulking, taller body seeming so much bigger when Delsin...didn't have his power.
Slowly, painfully so, the face of the helmet leaned in closer, stopping at his ear as the conduit felt his other hand snake across his chest, and his eyes opened wide with realization.
No.
No, this was not happening right now.
"You know, I could almost take you running your fuckin' mouth as much as you do since you're suck a pretty little thing. Almost...though I can think of a couple of ways of making you shut up..." In agonizing circles, he drew with his gloved finger, running them along the sides of his body, a motion that made the young adult recoil from his touch as panic rose in his voice, despite his attempts to keep a cool head.
"Hey, hey, stop. This isn't funny, so back off..." His voice, coming out smaller than he would have hoped. That was supposed to sound threatening, he was supposed to have shouted, so why...couldn't he speak? Why was his heart beating so fast? This...this wasn't what he had in mind at all when he thought about the shit they would try to pull, but...what was he meant to do with this?
What...was happening?
The man didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard him, palming his lower back and caressing his bottom roughly, a crude motion that seemed to jar Delsin from his thoughts.
"I said no! NO! GET OFF OF ME! I DON'T WANT TO - " His head throbbed as the man used the full force of his strength to push in his cheeks more, Delsin wincing as he was sure that his jaw would snap under the pressure, but somehow, it didn't, but it didn't hurt any less as the guard pushed into his body even more, crushing him against the wall.
"I bet I could you to scream while I fucked you, couldn't I? Cry my name like the little bitch you are. All that tough guy bullshit doesn't mean anything here, freak. Not a goddamn thing...besides, all you bio-terrorists are good for is a good fuck, so why don't you just be quiet and let it happen, huh?" He pressured, and reaching down, down until he reached the edges of pelvis, and he felt him touching him, stroking his soft length as it remained limp in his grip.
Delsin's mind reeled at the contact, the sickening, nauseating sensation that made him want to gag.
What he would do to blast this guy's fucking head off right here, right now, to run right out of this place, to get away from the other guard that just stood there, watching it happen. In fact, his dark eyes wavered over to them, an unreadable expression twisting and churning within them as he felt his mind scream out to the other. He hated this, feeling helpless, as if he needed some asshole who didn't give a shit to be gracious enough to help him, but he could deal with a hit to his pride if it meant he could just...get away.
He couldn't fight.
He couldn't...breathe.
Oh, god. He didn't...he didn't want this, he -
He felt the man turn him around, his stomach pressing against the tiled wall, and all at once, the reality of it (if it hadn't already) really smacked into him, a bag of bricks to his mind as he listened to the man begin to un-fasten his gear, rustling fabric a lock and stone to what going to happen. Inside, there was a sense of guilt, of responsibility; had he not fought enough? Was he just...going to let this happen? Could he do something? What had he done wrong? Why?
Why was this happening?
"Don't worry, you'll be begging for it, so just relax and - " Just as he'd pressed his flesh against his back, and made a motion to push it in, a whirring buzz of an overhead alarm rang through the facility, and with it, a voice, a feminine cadence, called to all personnel, "All available overseers and personnel, please report to the Eating Hall immediately, a disturbance has occurred. I repeat, all overseers and personnel, please report to the Eating Hall. Thank you.".
Once the intercom hung up, Delsin wasn't sure what would happen next, but when he heard the guard groan indignantly behind him, and the pressure from his weight subsided, his breath hitched with relief he couldn't even process as he was left standing there, unsure of whether he should move...or to just stay right there.
But he didn't dare look, eyes fixed squarely on the wall as even chancing a glance at that guy might make him lose his composure.
Even more, he was afraid he'd be sick right then and there.
The man's anger was clear as he rushed to re-dress, stuffing himself back into his thick trousers, and readjusting his clothes until he looked just as he had before he'd tried to -
'No. Just...drop it, Delsin. Just...focus on something else. Literally anything else.' The conduit asserted, unable to even look at the guards as they spoke amongst each other, though he did manage to turn back around, covering himself again with his hands a bit more vigorously this time.
"FUCK! It's always fucking something!" Picking up his gun, the first guard, his assailant, nearly rushed from the room, but looking back, he turned to the other, the bystander, opening his mouth to speak.
He had completely disregarded Delsin at this point.
"Oh, right, can you get it up to its cell, Terry? Can't afford to have them think I'm slackin' off or something; already on thin ice." He asked, and with little thought to the question, Terry looked to Delsin, shrugged, and nodded to his partner, giving him the clear to leave.
"Yeah, I got 'em. Would hate to see you fired this soon, so I'll catch you later, Port." And with that, the first guard voiced out a sort of thanks, but his eyes lingered on Delsin for a moment, then a breath, and just a quickly, he disappeared down the corridor. Then...it was just the two of them, and to say the air was awkward and tense would be an understatement. But no one said anything as his attention was pulled back to the cart, his awaiting clothes idle, right where they had been before...all of that happened. However, he wouldn't get the chance to try at it again, the guard at his right, pulling the pants first and gesturing to Delsin.
Was he...going to dress him? What, he couldn't even DRESS HIMSELF?!
Having not moved, the guard sighed tiredly, aa if frustrated.
"Come on, put your leg through. Let's go, I don't have all day." He exclaimed; Delsin could almost hear him roll his eyes, and though he was sure the guard would have no issue taking out his annoyance on him, he didn't move.
It was odd.
He...didn't really know if he wanted to be...touched right now. He'd never felt like that before, and by all accounts, he was just...a little on edge. In the back of his mind, he knew that what just happened wasn't...normal, but he was determined to just...push from his mind.
He really didn't want to have to think about the fact that he'd almost been...no, he couldn't even finish the thought. This had to have been the worst possible first day he could have had, and all he wanted right now was the chance to just...do something himself, to maintain what little dignity he could, and that meant just...being able to put on his own clothes.
Was that too much to ask?
"L-look...I won't tell anyone that you helped me or you broke the rules, or whatever, just...can I do this one thing?...P-please?" He added at the end, doing his best to control his voice, but he couldn't help as it shook a bit, trembling from the strain of him trying to keep it together. He didn't look at the man, unable to fathom how he might look under the mask.
Did he look smug? Was he smiling, amused to see him practically begging him for just a little decency? Would he laugh at him? Did he think this was funny? Would he punish him for breaking the rules? Report him?
Loosing a shaky breath, he prepared himself for the worst.
'Might as well just eat it, might be easier with one guy than having the whole horde on me...' He thought sullenly, resigning himself to whatever the guy had in store...but he was even more surprised to find that the punishment that he anticipated never came. All heard was a sigh, rasped from the guard as he stood up.
"Yeah, whatever. Just...make it quick. Don't need anyone down my back about why I'm not doing it." Tossing it the conduit, Delsin almost didn't believe it was true, but when the man turned back, his tone just a bit more, irritable, said ,"Well? What are you waiting for? Get dressed already; you think I like staring at your bare ass?", it spurned him into action.
But his comment stuck with him.
He didn't want to see his bare ass? What the fuck made his think he wanted to be naked in the first place?!
"What, you think I like struttin' around in my birthday suit - " However, he didn't have the chance to stop himself, clamping his mouth shut when he realized the guard could hear him.
"What did you say?" The guard spat, gripping his gun harder as he stalked closer to Delsin, causing him to drop his pants into the puddles beneath his feet as he backed away, losing the words to say to ease the situation.
Why couldn't he just keep his mouth closed? Delsin had always been the type to make trouble for himself, but now wasn't the time for making shit harder than it had to be!
"Okay, look, s-sorry. I'm just...having a shitty day, and I'm tired, and...and..." Unable to think of anything else, he braced himself for impact.
'If you're gonna hit me, you might as well get it over with. Come on, give me your best shot.' He uttered in his mind, eying the man's helmet with equal parts intensity, with more fearlessness than he felt.
But he had to at least look like he could put up a fight.
The guard faced him down a moment longer before relenting, groaning as he turned away from him.
"Ugh, look. I have to enforce the rules around here, and not everyone is going to be as nice as me, so could you cut the back-talk and just put your clothes on already? Jesus, you act like I personally did something to you." Terry groaned, exasperated.
Did something to him?
DID SOMETHING TO HIM?
How about standing idly by whilst his friend tried to rape him? How about watching as they reached up his ass? What about when they turned up his inhibitor so high that he nearly lost consciousness? Oh, don't let him forget about being forced to SHIT HIMSELF. Delsin took every bit of willpower he had to not say all of this to him, biting his tongue as he let the issue go. Despite disagreeing about him not being at least complicit in all of that, he had to admit that having a guard be willing to talk to him like he was kind of a person wasn't the worst thing in the world, all things considered.
He by no means liked this guy, but it might help to have a DUP that wasn't a complete and utter asshole 100% of the time.
Grumbling, he picked up his pants, using the wall as a support to ease each leg over his own, remaining mindful of the fresh throb that pulsed in his lower back. He wasn't exactly fond of the lack of underwear allowing his junk to swing all over the place, but it was better than nothing, Next was his shirt, and in the midst of everything else, he'd nearly forgotten about the welts that cris-crossed the length of his back, the young adult hissing as the fabric rubbed against them.
'Right, that's gonna be a pain to deal with...' He thought tiredly as he pulled it over his head, doing his best to look as though it didn't hurt.
Even if this guy was playing nice, he didn't want to overstay his welcome by looking "whiny". He had enough to deal without this guy getting sick of him. When he finished, he looked to the guy who'd, by this point, had turned around, eying the other end of the decontamination unit whilst he got dressed, but his attention was called when Delsin cleared his throat, finding his mood had improved from something as simple as having clothes again.
"I'm done..." He said, and the guard, Terry, looked him over. There was subtle feeling of discomfort with having him look at him, but he didn't think it was anything that Terry did...Delsin just felt...different for some reason.
Maybe just a bit...paranoid.
"Come on, we're going to your cell." Terry ordered, and in kind, Delsin nodded, following him down the corridor and out into the rest of Curdun Cay, and despite him not being happy being in the station, he was ecstatic to get out of the decontamination unit; he hoped he never have to go there again.
Ever.
Further out from decontamination unit, he could hear the general hum of the rest of the station, buzzing, ever-present, overhead, an apex of metal and concrete that radiated no color, bar for the crossing lines of electricity and imbedded fixtures that pulsed with power and transported said power around the facility. Lattice works of this material weaved deeper into the complex, pyramids of tech doubling as balconies for sentries and employees of Curdun Cay, some doing suits for the guards, and others, like the doctors, bearing coats of white and regular clothes he hadn't expected to see, each on their own assignments and missions around the station.
He wasn't sure why, but before coming here, he thought that maybe all of them would be...soldiers? Like the ones that he'd seen out on the streets of Seattle, but seeing so many different people, different types, and the like...it was distracting enough from his own thoughts that, if just for a second, he was able to put all of what happened behind him...at least for the time being.
Not that he was complaining at all, either.
He'd followed Terry through the halls, passing over cells for the first time once they'd crossed the threshold of the atrium, and he had to admit that this wasn't at all what he was expecting. Adjacent rooms lined each side of the hallway as they walked through, thick locks and what looked like a million scanners and screens covered the doors leading within what he assumed were the holding cells of other conduits.
It was strange, knowing that they were other conduits right behind those doors, and despite being in this powered down state, he could almost...feel it, the vibrating power that rested just behind them, in every person that remained confined to their rooms, just waiting to get out.
It was...nauseating.
He didn't have to wonder about what wing this was, reading off great, bold letter of "Electric Wing - B", which, he assumed, were for conduits with...electric powers? So maybe...Eugene's wing, since they all might have powers linked to...televisions. Well, that one might need some working out (where would Eugene go?). It occurred to him that they must sort the conduits into wings that suit their abilities, which was...convenient, he guessed. Must made it easy to keep them all organized, that sort of thing, and in passing through his section they entered another, this time for ones with power over plants, and the next? Ones with an affinity for chemicals and elements.
'I wonder if Fetch would have been in this unit since she has, like, neon powers...' His thought trailed off as he tried to get a glance inside, to see if there were others that had powers similar to hers.
It had only just occurred to him that he really missed seeing the violent, magenta glow of her power, the rush of heat and beauty that engulfed her in every step...but just thinking about it made something inside hurt. There just didn't seem to be a way of escaping the constant reminder of the fact that now, and into the foreseeable future, he'd be...alone.
Completely, and utterly, alone.
The feeling didn't leave him even after they boarded a lift, Terry eying him to make sure that he was onboard, and then, with a tap upon the console, they began their descent. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts for the first few minutes that they'd been on the lift, he hadn't even thought to wonder why it was that they were going do deep into the station, but by the time that he realized that the temperature had dropped, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to notice it, and the sounds and hum of the level above faded away, they had already made it to the bottom. Looking around, he noted the low lighting, the dim, siding lights a soft, white glow that led further into the corridor.
'Where...are we? Why didn't they put me with the others up there? They must be super eager to put me away, huh?' He thought, a dull, dry chuckle gracing his thoughts as he followed behind Terry. Down here, he saw only a few cells, the windows inside tinted dark, so much so that he couldn't really see inside. However, there weren't notes on signs telling him what sort of conduits were being held within, nothing to indicate who was on the other side. It was sort of unsettling how...quiet it was here, with nothing but the residual thrum of machines whirring in places he couldn't see. Terry stepped up to what seemed to be the next available room, and, typing in a code into the keypad that he didn't get the chance to remember, the seal on this door (which by all accounts was much more intricate than the ones on the upper levels) turned and rotated in complex patterns before it clicked, letting loose a rush of air from the chamber within. With a turn of his gun, the guard gestured Delsin inside, sparing him a quick look that bordered on expectation, but he didn't need to be told with to do next.
It was sort of obvious that he wanted him to go inside.
"Yeah, I think I get the picture." He mumbled under his breath, sighing as he stepped into the room, eying the small cot, toilet, sink, and four grey, solid walls with a disillusioned glance before he heard Terry speak.
"I hope you do. 'Cause you're gonna be in here for a while." He said ominously, and without another word, he shut the door, leaving Delsin alone in his cell.
Yeah, he wasn't sure what to think of that guy.
Regardless, he did feel his body finally demand rest, and for once, the young man didn't fight this time, dragging himself over to his cot (which, if he had to be honest, was about as comfortable as a bed of nails, but it was better than the cold, tile floor of the decontamination unit), and flopped down on it, hissing as he'd just remembered that his head was still pretty sore. But doing that, he'd only just made it begin throbbing again.
"Fuck...god, this day just keeps getting better and better..." He rasped, shutting his eyes against the harsh light of the fluorescent light above, doing what he could to urge himself to at least try to get some sleep. In some odd way, he hoped that doing this would allow him to wake up again, back in his own bed where the Akomish were, with Fetch, and Eugene, and...not here. It was then that he felt his eyes grow wet, a strange sensation as he didn't often see himself crying, and just quickly, he felt ridiculous.
"God, Del. Seriously?! It's not like their dead or anything, get a grip!" He shouted at himself, wiping furiously at his eyes, though...the feeling still lingered.
As he laid there, hoping to sleep, hoping to just...wipe this day from his memory, he had a strange thought.
Sure, they weren't dead, he mused to himself as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but think that...maybe it was him that had died.
That they would go on living, dreaming...and that the Delsin they knew would never be seen again.
And in a way...he couldn't have known just how right he would be.