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tampered2008-03-27 01:02 am
mildlygenocidal.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-03-27 01:02 am
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When; March 25th or 26th, one of the two.
Rating; R, for surgical, disturbing situations.
Characters; Vash the Stampede and Millions Knives ((![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mildlyreckless and mildlygenocidal))
Summary; After the three day grab bag curse, Knives was inspired to "recharge" his brother, and restore him to having blond hair. Uh. This is that. Poor Vash.
Log;
It was with an ironic tender touch that he removed the false arm from his brother's body, and laid it to the side on a steel surgical equipment tray. The tray rolled a little to the side, thumping against the metal bed that was slightly concave to support his brother like a cradle. He had to be tender with the mechanical arm, as it'd be serving an important purpose later on. Not only would it be a conduit of energy to help fuel and sustain what Millions Knives intended to do with Vash the Stampede, but it would be an enhancement off of the original design set to monitor Vash's vital signs and his location alike. He didn't much trust Conrad's abilities, and Conrad's lack of faith in his personal intelligence was insulting and driving for the Plant. His kind--Vash included--were far, far more intelligent than they cared to behave. Did he think it was something as simple as a photographic memory with which they remembered so much? Typical human, believing only humans possessed the ability of exceptional intelligence. It only bothered them so much because Plants were their way of playing God, and their Eves and their unintentional Adams were, by far, more godlike than they could ever be.
The only thing that spared any of them was the current fixation on the situation with Vash. Knives was growing to believe he had been, for a lack of better words, bullshitted by their independent sister. Which was a shame that she would so readily take to a false mouth to her own family. He told himself he ought to pin her down at some point, to gather more information from her, but he could feel the corruption in her body from human involvement. She couldn't help being a product of her environment. He would teach her at some point, but this was far more important.
Another tray was pulled around, on which several corded devices--their cords dipping below the level of the tray and away towards machines that hummed on the sidelines, in dark shadows. Along with it, a stool was pushed behind him when he nudged the tray over and he sat down on it and reached under the tray holding Vash's arm. What looked to be an oversized scalpel on one end, and something of a crude screwdriver on the other, was brought into the overhead light and he leaned forward to start working on the new plate on the stub that was what remained of Vash's arm. Careful hands worked to jostle the device free, though jostle hardly was the word to be used by the end of the procedure. Whomever had attached it did so with such implicit care that it explained his difficulty in snapping it off when he was fighting with Vash out on the beach when he first arrived. By the time it was free, there were rather crude lacerations slipping down the stub from where he had to dig and snap, dig and snap. Vash's natural functions would allow it to heal, but the removal was necessary. He had an entirely different plate that would be connecting there, although he had to take a moment to observe the implanted wirings after toweling away blood. An alteration would need to be made with that side of the plate, but that wouldn't be a problem.
In the meantime, two wires, thin and yellow, were brought from the second tray and connected to the main implanted wiring that laced around the bone and fronted the wiring into his motor system. He was utilizing every important piece of his brother to assure that he would be able to do this successfilly. His other arm was already inserted on each finger with similar wires, embedded under the nails of each finger. The electric pulses were already moving, causing a twitch every ten seconds. Honestly, Knives wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't been for the IV that was actually inserted up at his collar bone twitching in time with the pulses due to the energy channeling through his muscles. It was only a peripheral thought, however. So much more to do.
An attachment came out from the second tray next that held a larger yellow cord to it. It was ended with an awkward clamp that was easily identifiable as an attachment for a mouth, but the device was so large, it was hard to imagine that he was going to insert that into Vash's mouth. It was hooked on each end of the arch that slipped around the teeth perfectly, meant to hold it in tight. Unfortunately, as a consequence to assuring that, in the event Vash woke up, he wouldn't be able to pull it out, that was one of two ways to assure he couldn't. As in, the fit was disgustingly tight and Knives had to throw literal weight into it to snap it around the back molars successfully. It would break apart at the time of "lighting", as he called the final procedure, but in the meantime, it was just going to sit in there. There was a blue tube on the left to allow for air, of course.
The second assurance came in form of a specific grating that was at the very edge of Vash's mouth that was laced carefully with straps that were then bound around his head and strapped in the back. It'd take a miracle to undo the straps themselves without two hands. Of course, he wouldn't put it past his brother to manage. He was kind of annoying like that, and just didn't appreciate what Knives was doing for him. He never did. Such was the agonies of being considered the elder twin. And he even took the time to use a small tube used for dental procedures to suck the blood out of Vash's mouth that was starting to pool around his cheeks on ocassion to assure he wouldn't suffocate.
Vash's eyebrow twitched slightly as his mind slowly began to regain consciousness. What the hell happened? He'd gone to bed, turned off the light... But there was something else, wasn't there? What was it...
Knives.
He came in and--
...What was that sound...?
Vash groggily opened one eye and tried to focus. He couldn't figure out what was going on yet, but it hurt. Blotches of yellow caught his eye and he stared at it, waiting for his vision to clear. When it did, both of Vash's eyes shot open wide. Memories of Tessla and all his dead and dying sisters flashed all too vividly in his mind and he was slammed with the realization that his worst nightmare - the worst thing he could ever imagine happening to him personally - was happening right that second.
He tried to scream, but there was something in his mouth and something in his THROAT. A surge of adrenalin fired through his system as he began to panic further and took in several things at once. First, there were tubes everywhere, going into him - including an IV near his shoulder. Second, his false arm was off and too far away. Third, he could feel energy being pulsed into him. Fourth, he had no gun. Fifth, he had no way of calling for help. Sixth, and most terrifying and infuriating, Knives was sitting at what remained of his left arm.
His mind connected situation and potential together in a flash. And as a result, Vash found himself ripping out the IV and stabbing towards Knives's eye without hesitation. Residual grogginess be damned, he wouldn't become an experiment.
Well, that was a bit unexpected. Knives had since taken to working on the false arm--more specifically, the plate he would be reattaching to Vash's arm--when Vash was on the move. But if Vash believed he was moving at any substantial speed against his brother, he was wrong. Certainly had Knives been a normal human, that needle would have met his body in some form or fashion.
Unfortunately, Vash chose to do that against his brother, of all people. Who slipped to the side the moment he realize Vash's target, and his hand snapped out and around Vash's wrist. He clenched down, and clenched tight, glaring at Vash while his lips pursed for a moment. Stupid brother.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, in a rather crass tone. It was something like a parent catching his child drawing on the wall. ...the sort of parent that then locks said child in a closet for seven hours without food or water or light.
Vash's wrist writhed painfully, trying to get away from his brother's grip. He strained to say something, but nearly choked in the process of jumbling his breathing tube. What the fuck did Knives think he was doing?!
Vash's muscles twitched with another pulse and then slacked slightly before he began writhing again. He tried to get up, but he was strapped down around the waist.
Frustrated, terrified out of his mind, and desperate, Vash began to cry. What was Knives doing? Why did he need all this stuff? What was going to happen to him?
...What was happening to the others?! What if they needed him?! Was Meryl still in her room?!
Blinded again, this time by tears, Vash attempted a lunge in the hopes of overturning the damn TABLE. He had to get out of here. He had to get home!
Vash's arm snapped free from him during the writhing and Knives snarled visibly and recoiled as he took in the sight of his brother bobbing around like that. He'd torn himself free of the cords pushed through his fingers on that hand, and that was what started to take priority until Vash began to move like he was. The tears were bad, but the fact that he was still bleeding, no doubt, inside his mouth was another thing altogether.
Didn't he taste the copper bite of the blood? Or was he so medicated that he didn't feel it at all? Surely Vash wasn't that stupid. That foolish. Knives deviated from rounding around to reattach the wires to shove his hand against Vash's chest, to push him into the concave table. "Stop moving. I swear to God, I will make you stop."
And tighter he pushed, right on Vash's sternum, as a preemptive warning that he'd make good on it. "I will hurt you and I will make you hurt."
Vash wished he had the ability to spit some of the blood in his mouth on Knives, he really did. He continued to strain and writhe for a while before suddenly going limp and tipping his head so he could get the blood out of his mouth faster. And let his tears drain easier. If he fought much more, Knives might bring Legato in to keep him in place anyway.
His body began to wind down and Vash tried to scream again - this time in pain. He clawed at Knives wildly, eyes begging him to MAKE IT STOP.
"This is for your own good," Knives barked as he held him still. Despite the weak clawing, despite the tears, Knives pushed on him and moved around to lean down over his face, his other hand latching on to Vash's jaw and squeezing tight. Squeezing and forcing Vash to face upwards. It would hurt, considering the device clenched in his brother's mouth, and that was the goddamn point. "Vash. Stop it. If you would just cooperate, this would be over soon."
He didn't appreciate what he was doing. The last thing on Knives's mind was the fact that maybe, just maybe, Vash had no idea what Knives was doing. "You are pathetic. Look at you. How can you justify this lack of dignity? Sobbing like a child. Tch."
The hand released Vash's jaw, and swung around to grab the IV needle again, to go attach it back in him while he was slowly his squirming. However, if Vash picked up again, he'd drug him again. "This could be over soon if you behave yourself."
Vash behaved. Until he saw Knives coming at him with that needle again. His eyes widened and he ripped the needle away from Knives by its tube attachment before swinging his fist towards his head. If he was going to do anymore of this shit, he'd have to drug him. There was no way in hell Vash wanted to be awake for anymore of this. If he could just fall asleep and wake up to find that it was all over... That'd be okay. He just didn't want Knives to make him watch.
And Knives was going to do this whether Vash was awake or not. The needle was snapped in his hand just so when the tube was pulled taut, and then free, and ripped a line across Knives's palm before it went. Knives snarled at this, and released Vash entirely, his body swinging around towards the tray on which the false arm was balanced. Underneathe the first tray was that secondary, where a needle and syringe laid. It was a particularly strong anesthetic that he learned long ago was good for disabling their kind for an excessively long time. Finding the right concoction in the City was more than trying, but he'd managed.
Knives swung around and the needle was quickly dug right into Vash's neck with absolutely no ceremony and pause. He dispensed half and ripped it free again, before pacing around to grab the wires that belonged in Vash's fingers. The syringe was placed to the side so one hand could grab Vash's hand, and the other the wires, so he could begin reinserting them. "Appreciate the gift I'm about to give you, Vash."
Vash's body slammed tense as the needle plunged into his neck, but then quickly fell limp on the bed as everything went black. He stared towards the ceiling with dead eyes and his mind struggled to stay awake, but Vash was determined to override that instinct even if it killed him.
He was vaguely aware of things being pushed into his fingers, and he knew it hurt, but it was almost like it was happening in the distance.
His system balked as he began to really fall asleep, and his brain started racing through the faces of those who were most likely looking for him by now. If he died here on this table, they might not ever know what happened. And God knew what Knives would do to them at that point. What he would let his minions do.
...Oh, God. What if they tried to come after him? What if--
He lost his train of thought and it took him a while to realize that he must've blacked out for a while. And he still couldn't move or see anything.
...He was in trouble.
After the wires were slipped back in place firmly, Knives stood back and cocked his head to the side. Observing carefully, and after a moment, he went to take up the suction tube to reach around the sides of Vash's mouth to suck up the blood that had pooled again. He assured the breathing tube was straight after that, and then went to pressing against the flesh of Vash's chest to assure he was hydrated. Unfortunately for Vash, the IV was containing a special fluid that would be needed to also successfully complete what he was looking to do.
The elements were all good, and the drugs shouldn't have any adverse affect to the lighting. After a few more tender pokes, Knives disappeared from the halo of light flooding down from the overhead light, and towards the humming machines hidden in darkness.
The lighting was an event that was caused by genetic manipulation that acted upon the theory that Plants were like batteries, and Knives figured that in that same vein, they could be recharged. After reading the logs left by prior incarnations about the aspect of cointegration, Knives was able to perfect a (hopefully) solid platform on which to simulate cointegration, in the vein that it would restore Vash to prior strength. It wasn't like he was trying to empower him beyond what he has ever been, after all.
A couple of devices were lit as he pushed their buttons to light controls on the master device. "If you're still listening, Vash... I hope you're ready for this. No pain, no glory, after all."
And with that, the final button was struck to increase the electrical pulses up to full capacity.
Vash had about two seconds to process what Knives had just said before the blackness flashed into white. Hot and painful didn't even begin to cover it. It felt like he was being forced apart from the inside. Pain seared through his body and mind, leaving Vash's brain unable to even wonder if his muscles were tearing away. He felt himself attempt another scream before he lost consciousness entirely.
Some hours later, Vash blearily opened his eyes and slowly went through the process of getting his eyes and brain to focus all over again. The pain in his mouth was the first thing he could really focus on. While it still hurt like hell, he found that the device that was there before had been removed. Including the breathing tube. His eyes roved around blindly for a while before he was able to see enough to realize that his false arm had been reattached. He groggily flexed the fingers and then looked down at his other arm. The tubes in his fingers were still there. And upon further inspection, Vash found that the IV was still in-place as well.
He wanted to start fighting again, but just moving his fingers was...difficult. And tiring. Vash started to try and say something, but a figure sitting nearby made him stop short. So he merely watched Knives in drowsy silence. Wishing he had his gun.
Knives was sitting with an arrogant calmness, his eyes focused on something in his hands. He was perched on his stool from before, waiting like a diligent brother would at the bedside of his brother, who just underwent a very life-altering experience. It was only right for him to stay there. His presence wasn't there to rub anything in, or to get pissed at anything going awry. That wasn't what the entire situation was about at all. This was, in Knives's own way, an honest attempt to rectify a serious wrong.
Of course, if it had failed, that wouldn't have stopped Knives at all. If at once you don't succeed, and all that.
And when he noticed his brother moving into a conscious plane again, he simply sat and waited until that stop short of Vash noticing him, for him to look up to Vash. It was with an oddly bright smile that Knives held up his hand to wave, exposing the apparatus in his hand to be a mirror. "Good morning, sunshine, did you sleep well?" His eyebrow slanted upwards, and the slight snarl to his lip showed how sardonically he meant it. Sadly, that in conjunction to his brightening eyes were hardly mismatched for the situation.
"No," Vash whimpered, making a weak attempt to drag himself away; not in response to Knives's question (which he honestly didn't really hear), but as a plea for no more of...whatever the HELL Knives had done to him. He gave up after a couple of lethargic tugs to try and get up, and then flopped back down and stayed still, panting and watching Knives for a while.
"I don't..." Vash slurred, suddenly aware that he didn't know what he didn't. His eyes rolled a bit as he forced himself to stay awake and then narrowed as he tried to focus on what Knives was holding. "What's that."
"Oh, this?" Knives asked, putting on quite the showw os surprise at the mirrior in hand. He even pulled it down to observe it, tapping at his lips with his other hand. After a couple of taps, he started to scooch towards Vash on the stool. "Why, it's a mirror."
He crossed the floor on the stool by use of the stool's wheels, to come to settle beside the table bed, right by Vash's head. His hands fumbled with the mirror meekly. Honestly, if one didn't know exactly what Knives was capable of, the way he conducted himself right then was very unsuspecting. Like any normal creature concerned and waiting for his brother.
"It's pretty neat," he remarked innocently.
Vash's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed intently as the mirror got closer, as if he'd never seen one before. It took him a while to absorb what he was seeing. It was him. But his hair color was all wrong. It wasn't black anymore. It was--
Vash's eyes shot open wide again and he slapped the mirror away, startled.
"N-No!" he said, trying to get away again. "What did you do?! What--"
He jostled the cords in his fingers and froze in response to the pain, staring fearfully. Blond again. Vash felt like he should've been relieved, but it...couldn't be right. It shouldn't be possible. What the hell did Knives do?
His face fell as Knives cocked his head to the side at Vash's reaction, although he kept the mirror right up there for Vash to continue to look at. He looked so confused; puzzled, really...
Until his face twisted angrily and he snapped, "Are you seriously screaming about the fact that I just assured you would live longer?!" The mirror was ripped from the space above Vash's head as he whipped around and cast it out into a random direction rather violently, before bringing his hand to his face and breathing. 'Little' brothers were so unappreciative, weren't they? He worked so long and hard to figure a way to make it happen, with the right genetic-binding solutions and...
Knives swung back and grabbed hold of the table bed, and started pulling Vash from spot. He ignored the fact that Vash was still corded up under his fingernails on his true arm, and that the IV tree used for the no hydrating bag dripping into his body was actually stationary, and that both would rip from Vash being pulled away. One hand reached out and grabbed the half-full syringe from the table, in case Vash got too noisy.
"Fine," he growled at his brother, "have your tempertantrum. Things are what they are, and you just better get used to that."
This time, Vash did scream. But any edge he might've had was lost thanks to the drug his body was still trying to filter out of his system. Didn't Knives understand that this could KILL him?! The experiments and the procedure and whatever else he did... Everything had to end eventually, why couldn't he just ACCEPT that?
At first Vash tried shoving his brother away, but he quickly found the pain and the fact that he was definitely going to fall without someone helping him wasn't worth it, so he found himself actually clinging to the bastard, praying he wasn't going to do anything else.
"What are you doing?!" he half-screeched instead.
"We're going," he explained. He dragged Vash past a table that was viewable after they left the overhead light's halo. There, Vash's pajamas from before his abduction laid in neat folds. It was during a wait that Knives found himself fumbling the clothes together perfectly, something he wasn't habitual with but it just was a way to ease his mind. It wasn't like he had any instruments or anything in the immediate area to keep him preoccupied after the lighting, after all.
And he didn't bother to grab them, either, dragging his very drugged, very blond brother out the door, but not before pausing and ramming him up against the mechanical frame. He glowered at him, leaning his face close to Vash's. "I'm returning to the pets their owner. Are you just that ungrateful, that you don't even appreciate this?"
Vash yelped as he was slammed against the frame and stared dazedly at his brother's face, struggling to stay awake.
"N-No," he managed, hoping to God that all that meant Knives was going to let him go home.
Knives's eyes narrowed as he shoved at him again, purposely wiggling to attempt to nestle Vash's spine against the doorway. His hand was wiggling the syringe angrily at his side as he shouldered Vash in place and glared harshly.
"No? No? Then what do you call this?" he snapped. It was beyond him, how unappreciative Vash always was to his clear attempts to help him. Better him. And he was very close to just sedating him for the rest of the trip, so to speak.
"Gn," was the only response Vash got out as Knives handled him. He winced painfully and made a weak attempt to push his twin away from him. Then he caught a glance of the syringe.
"NO!" he wailed, beginning to fail wildly in another escape attempt. If he was going to let him go, why couldn't he just DO SO already?!
The flailing was enough for him to spin around the syringe just so, to nestle the push against his thumb as he fisted the tube tightly. While watching Vash panic, Knives quirked the edge of his lip as though he was enjoying this just a little. Perhaps he was. But it was only because, at that point, Vash deserved it. Deserved it.
"Pathetic." And then the syringe was plunged into Vash's opposing shoulder from where the IV was inserted, roughly and with absolutely no ceremony of injection. "It's time for you to be quiet now."
It didn't take long for the drug to kick in and Vash's eyes went dead as he slumped. His vision blurred and he made a weak grab for Knives's shirt as he began to black out.
"Need a phone or somethin'," he slurred just before he lost consciousness. If that asshole was going to dump him in the middle of nowhere, he'd better at least give him the means to call for help.
Rating; R, for surgical, disturbing situations.
Characters; Vash the Stampede and Millions Knives ((
mildlyreckless and mildlygenocidal))Summary; After the three day grab bag curse, Knives was inspired to "recharge" his brother, and restore him to having blond hair. Uh. This is that. Poor Vash.
Log;
It was with an ironic tender touch that he removed the false arm from his brother's body, and laid it to the side on a steel surgical equipment tray. The tray rolled a little to the side, thumping against the metal bed that was slightly concave to support his brother like a cradle. He had to be tender with the mechanical arm, as it'd be serving an important purpose later on. Not only would it be a conduit of energy to help fuel and sustain what Millions Knives intended to do with Vash the Stampede, but it would be an enhancement off of the original design set to monitor Vash's vital signs and his location alike. He didn't much trust Conrad's abilities, and Conrad's lack of faith in his personal intelligence was insulting and driving for the Plant. His kind--Vash included--were far, far more intelligent than they cared to behave. Did he think it was something as simple as a photographic memory with which they remembered so much? Typical human, believing only humans possessed the ability of exceptional intelligence. It only bothered them so much because Plants were their way of playing God, and their Eves and their unintentional Adams were, by far, more godlike than they could ever be.
The only thing that spared any of them was the current fixation on the situation with Vash. Knives was growing to believe he had been, for a lack of better words, bullshitted by their independent sister. Which was a shame that she would so readily take to a false mouth to her own family. He told himself he ought to pin her down at some point, to gather more information from her, but he could feel the corruption in her body from human involvement. She couldn't help being a product of her environment. He would teach her at some point, but this was far more important.
Another tray was pulled around, on which several corded devices--their cords dipping below the level of the tray and away towards machines that hummed on the sidelines, in dark shadows. Along with it, a stool was pushed behind him when he nudged the tray over and he sat down on it and reached under the tray holding Vash's arm. What looked to be an oversized scalpel on one end, and something of a crude screwdriver on the other, was brought into the overhead light and he leaned forward to start working on the new plate on the stub that was what remained of Vash's arm. Careful hands worked to jostle the device free, though jostle hardly was the word to be used by the end of the procedure. Whomever had attached it did so with such implicit care that it explained his difficulty in snapping it off when he was fighting with Vash out on the beach when he first arrived. By the time it was free, there were rather crude lacerations slipping down the stub from where he had to dig and snap, dig and snap. Vash's natural functions would allow it to heal, but the removal was necessary. He had an entirely different plate that would be connecting there, although he had to take a moment to observe the implanted wirings after toweling away blood. An alteration would need to be made with that side of the plate, but that wouldn't be a problem.
In the meantime, two wires, thin and yellow, were brought from the second tray and connected to the main implanted wiring that laced around the bone and fronted the wiring into his motor system. He was utilizing every important piece of his brother to assure that he would be able to do this successfilly. His other arm was already inserted on each finger with similar wires, embedded under the nails of each finger. The electric pulses were already moving, causing a twitch every ten seconds. Honestly, Knives wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't been for the IV that was actually inserted up at his collar bone twitching in time with the pulses due to the energy channeling through his muscles. It was only a peripheral thought, however. So much more to do.
An attachment came out from the second tray next that held a larger yellow cord to it. It was ended with an awkward clamp that was easily identifiable as an attachment for a mouth, but the device was so large, it was hard to imagine that he was going to insert that into Vash's mouth. It was hooked on each end of the arch that slipped around the teeth perfectly, meant to hold it in tight. Unfortunately, as a consequence to assuring that, in the event Vash woke up, he wouldn't be able to pull it out, that was one of two ways to assure he couldn't. As in, the fit was disgustingly tight and Knives had to throw literal weight into it to snap it around the back molars successfully. It would break apart at the time of "lighting", as he called the final procedure, but in the meantime, it was just going to sit in there. There was a blue tube on the left to allow for air, of course.
The second assurance came in form of a specific grating that was at the very edge of Vash's mouth that was laced carefully with straps that were then bound around his head and strapped in the back. It'd take a miracle to undo the straps themselves without two hands. Of course, he wouldn't put it past his brother to manage. He was kind of annoying like that, and just didn't appreciate what Knives was doing for him. He never did. Such was the agonies of being considered the elder twin. And he even took the time to use a small tube used for dental procedures to suck the blood out of Vash's mouth that was starting to pool around his cheeks on ocassion to assure he wouldn't suffocate.
Vash's eyebrow twitched slightly as his mind slowly began to regain consciousness. What the hell happened? He'd gone to bed, turned off the light... But there was something else, wasn't there? What was it...
Knives.
He came in and--
...What was that sound...?
Vash groggily opened one eye and tried to focus. He couldn't figure out what was going on yet, but it hurt. Blotches of yellow caught his eye and he stared at it, waiting for his vision to clear. When it did, both of Vash's eyes shot open wide. Memories of Tessla and all his dead and dying sisters flashed all too vividly in his mind and he was slammed with the realization that his worst nightmare - the worst thing he could ever imagine happening to him personally - was happening right that second.
He tried to scream, but there was something in his mouth and something in his THROAT. A surge of adrenalin fired through his system as he began to panic further and took in several things at once. First, there were tubes everywhere, going into him - including an IV near his shoulder. Second, his false arm was off and too far away. Third, he could feel energy being pulsed into him. Fourth, he had no gun. Fifth, he had no way of calling for help. Sixth, and most terrifying and infuriating, Knives was sitting at what remained of his left arm.
His mind connected situation and potential together in a flash. And as a result, Vash found himself ripping out the IV and stabbing towards Knives's eye without hesitation. Residual grogginess be damned, he wouldn't become an experiment.
Well, that was a bit unexpected. Knives had since taken to working on the false arm--more specifically, the plate he would be reattaching to Vash's arm--when Vash was on the move. But if Vash believed he was moving at any substantial speed against his brother, he was wrong. Certainly had Knives been a normal human, that needle would have met his body in some form or fashion.
Unfortunately, Vash chose to do that against his brother, of all people. Who slipped to the side the moment he realize Vash's target, and his hand snapped out and around Vash's wrist. He clenched down, and clenched tight, glaring at Vash while his lips pursed for a moment. Stupid brother.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, in a rather crass tone. It was something like a parent catching his child drawing on the wall. ...the sort of parent that then locks said child in a closet for seven hours without food or water or light.
Vash's wrist writhed painfully, trying to get away from his brother's grip. He strained to say something, but nearly choked in the process of jumbling his breathing tube. What the fuck did Knives think he was doing?!
Vash's muscles twitched with another pulse and then slacked slightly before he began writhing again. He tried to get up, but he was strapped down around the waist.
Frustrated, terrified out of his mind, and desperate, Vash began to cry. What was Knives doing? Why did he need all this stuff? What was going to happen to him?
...What was happening to the others?! What if they needed him?! Was Meryl still in her room?!
Blinded again, this time by tears, Vash attempted a lunge in the hopes of overturning the damn TABLE. He had to get out of here. He had to get home!
Vash's arm snapped free from him during the writhing and Knives snarled visibly and recoiled as he took in the sight of his brother bobbing around like that. He'd torn himself free of the cords pushed through his fingers on that hand, and that was what started to take priority until Vash began to move like he was. The tears were bad, but the fact that he was still bleeding, no doubt, inside his mouth was another thing altogether.
Didn't he taste the copper bite of the blood? Or was he so medicated that he didn't feel it at all? Surely Vash wasn't that stupid. That foolish. Knives deviated from rounding around to reattach the wires to shove his hand against Vash's chest, to push him into the concave table. "Stop moving. I swear to God, I will make you stop."
And tighter he pushed, right on Vash's sternum, as a preemptive warning that he'd make good on it. "I will hurt you and I will make you hurt."
Vash wished he had the ability to spit some of the blood in his mouth on Knives, he really did. He continued to strain and writhe for a while before suddenly going limp and tipping his head so he could get the blood out of his mouth faster. And let his tears drain easier. If he fought much more, Knives might bring Legato in to keep him in place anyway.
His body began to wind down and Vash tried to scream again - this time in pain. He clawed at Knives wildly, eyes begging him to MAKE IT STOP.
"This is for your own good," Knives barked as he held him still. Despite the weak clawing, despite the tears, Knives pushed on him and moved around to lean down over his face, his other hand latching on to Vash's jaw and squeezing tight. Squeezing and forcing Vash to face upwards. It would hurt, considering the device clenched in his brother's mouth, and that was the goddamn point. "Vash. Stop it. If you would just cooperate, this would be over soon."
He didn't appreciate what he was doing. The last thing on Knives's mind was the fact that maybe, just maybe, Vash had no idea what Knives was doing. "You are pathetic. Look at you. How can you justify this lack of dignity? Sobbing like a child. Tch."
The hand released Vash's jaw, and swung around to grab the IV needle again, to go attach it back in him while he was slowly his squirming. However, if Vash picked up again, he'd drug him again. "This could be over soon if you behave yourself."
Vash behaved. Until he saw Knives coming at him with that needle again. His eyes widened and he ripped the needle away from Knives by its tube attachment before swinging his fist towards his head. If he was going to do anymore of this shit, he'd have to drug him. There was no way in hell Vash wanted to be awake for anymore of this. If he could just fall asleep and wake up to find that it was all over... That'd be okay. He just didn't want Knives to make him watch.
And Knives was going to do this whether Vash was awake or not. The needle was snapped in his hand just so when the tube was pulled taut, and then free, and ripped a line across Knives's palm before it went. Knives snarled at this, and released Vash entirely, his body swinging around towards the tray on which the false arm was balanced. Underneathe the first tray was that secondary, where a needle and syringe laid. It was a particularly strong anesthetic that he learned long ago was good for disabling their kind for an excessively long time. Finding the right concoction in the City was more than trying, but he'd managed.
Knives swung around and the needle was quickly dug right into Vash's neck with absolutely no ceremony and pause. He dispensed half and ripped it free again, before pacing around to grab the wires that belonged in Vash's fingers. The syringe was placed to the side so one hand could grab Vash's hand, and the other the wires, so he could begin reinserting them. "Appreciate the gift I'm about to give you, Vash."
Vash's body slammed tense as the needle plunged into his neck, but then quickly fell limp on the bed as everything went black. He stared towards the ceiling with dead eyes and his mind struggled to stay awake, but Vash was determined to override that instinct even if it killed him.
He was vaguely aware of things being pushed into his fingers, and he knew it hurt, but it was almost like it was happening in the distance.
His system balked as he began to really fall asleep, and his brain started racing through the faces of those who were most likely looking for him by now. If he died here on this table, they might not ever know what happened. And God knew what Knives would do to them at that point. What he would let his minions do.
...Oh, God. What if they tried to come after him? What if--
He lost his train of thought and it took him a while to realize that he must've blacked out for a while. And he still couldn't move or see anything.
...He was in trouble.
After the wires were slipped back in place firmly, Knives stood back and cocked his head to the side. Observing carefully, and after a moment, he went to take up the suction tube to reach around the sides of Vash's mouth to suck up the blood that had pooled again. He assured the breathing tube was straight after that, and then went to pressing against the flesh of Vash's chest to assure he was hydrated. Unfortunately for Vash, the IV was containing a special fluid that would be needed to also successfully complete what he was looking to do.
The elements were all good, and the drugs shouldn't have any adverse affect to the lighting. After a few more tender pokes, Knives disappeared from the halo of light flooding down from the overhead light, and towards the humming machines hidden in darkness.
The lighting was an event that was caused by genetic manipulation that acted upon the theory that Plants were like batteries, and Knives figured that in that same vein, they could be recharged. After reading the logs left by prior incarnations about the aspect of cointegration, Knives was able to perfect a (hopefully) solid platform on which to simulate cointegration, in the vein that it would restore Vash to prior strength. It wasn't like he was trying to empower him beyond what he has ever been, after all.
A couple of devices were lit as he pushed their buttons to light controls on the master device. "If you're still listening, Vash... I hope you're ready for this. No pain, no glory, after all."
And with that, the final button was struck to increase the electrical pulses up to full capacity.
Vash had about two seconds to process what Knives had just said before the blackness flashed into white. Hot and painful didn't even begin to cover it. It felt like he was being forced apart from the inside. Pain seared through his body and mind, leaving Vash's brain unable to even wonder if his muscles were tearing away. He felt himself attempt another scream before he lost consciousness entirely.
Some hours later, Vash blearily opened his eyes and slowly went through the process of getting his eyes and brain to focus all over again. The pain in his mouth was the first thing he could really focus on. While it still hurt like hell, he found that the device that was there before had been removed. Including the breathing tube. His eyes roved around blindly for a while before he was able to see enough to realize that his false arm had been reattached. He groggily flexed the fingers and then looked down at his other arm. The tubes in his fingers were still there. And upon further inspection, Vash found that the IV was still in-place as well.
He wanted to start fighting again, but just moving his fingers was...difficult. And tiring. Vash started to try and say something, but a figure sitting nearby made him stop short. So he merely watched Knives in drowsy silence. Wishing he had his gun.
Knives was sitting with an arrogant calmness, his eyes focused on something in his hands. He was perched on his stool from before, waiting like a diligent brother would at the bedside of his brother, who just underwent a very life-altering experience. It was only right for him to stay there. His presence wasn't there to rub anything in, or to get pissed at anything going awry. That wasn't what the entire situation was about at all. This was, in Knives's own way, an honest attempt to rectify a serious wrong.
Of course, if it had failed, that wouldn't have stopped Knives at all. If at once you don't succeed, and all that.
And when he noticed his brother moving into a conscious plane again, he simply sat and waited until that stop short of Vash noticing him, for him to look up to Vash. It was with an oddly bright smile that Knives held up his hand to wave, exposing the apparatus in his hand to be a mirror. "Good morning, sunshine, did you sleep well?" His eyebrow slanted upwards, and the slight snarl to his lip showed how sardonically he meant it. Sadly, that in conjunction to his brightening eyes were hardly mismatched for the situation.
"No," Vash whimpered, making a weak attempt to drag himself away; not in response to Knives's question (which he honestly didn't really hear), but as a plea for no more of...whatever the HELL Knives had done to him. He gave up after a couple of lethargic tugs to try and get up, and then flopped back down and stayed still, panting and watching Knives for a while.
"I don't..." Vash slurred, suddenly aware that he didn't know what he didn't. His eyes rolled a bit as he forced himself to stay awake and then narrowed as he tried to focus on what Knives was holding. "What's that."
"Oh, this?" Knives asked, putting on quite the showw os surprise at the mirrior in hand. He even pulled it down to observe it, tapping at his lips with his other hand. After a couple of taps, he started to scooch towards Vash on the stool. "Why, it's a mirror."
He crossed the floor on the stool by use of the stool's wheels, to come to settle beside the table bed, right by Vash's head. His hands fumbled with the mirror meekly. Honestly, if one didn't know exactly what Knives was capable of, the way he conducted himself right then was very unsuspecting. Like any normal creature concerned and waiting for his brother.
"It's pretty neat," he remarked innocently.
Vash's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed intently as the mirror got closer, as if he'd never seen one before. It took him a while to absorb what he was seeing. It was him. But his hair color was all wrong. It wasn't black anymore. It was--
Vash's eyes shot open wide again and he slapped the mirror away, startled.
"N-No!" he said, trying to get away again. "What did you do?! What--"
He jostled the cords in his fingers and froze in response to the pain, staring fearfully. Blond again. Vash felt like he should've been relieved, but it...couldn't be right. It shouldn't be possible. What the hell did Knives do?
His face fell as Knives cocked his head to the side at Vash's reaction, although he kept the mirror right up there for Vash to continue to look at. He looked so confused; puzzled, really...
Until his face twisted angrily and he snapped, "Are you seriously screaming about the fact that I just assured you would live longer?!" The mirror was ripped from the space above Vash's head as he whipped around and cast it out into a random direction rather violently, before bringing his hand to his face and breathing. 'Little' brothers were so unappreciative, weren't they? He worked so long and hard to figure a way to make it happen, with the right genetic-binding solutions and...
Knives swung back and grabbed hold of the table bed, and started pulling Vash from spot. He ignored the fact that Vash was still corded up under his fingernails on his true arm, and that the IV tree used for the no hydrating bag dripping into his body was actually stationary, and that both would rip from Vash being pulled away. One hand reached out and grabbed the half-full syringe from the table, in case Vash got too noisy.
"Fine," he growled at his brother, "have your tempertantrum. Things are what they are, and you just better get used to that."
This time, Vash did scream. But any edge he might've had was lost thanks to the drug his body was still trying to filter out of his system. Didn't Knives understand that this could KILL him?! The experiments and the procedure and whatever else he did... Everything had to end eventually, why couldn't he just ACCEPT that?
At first Vash tried shoving his brother away, but he quickly found the pain and the fact that he was definitely going to fall without someone helping him wasn't worth it, so he found himself actually clinging to the bastard, praying he wasn't going to do anything else.
"What are you doing?!" he half-screeched instead.
"We're going," he explained. He dragged Vash past a table that was viewable after they left the overhead light's halo. There, Vash's pajamas from before his abduction laid in neat folds. It was during a wait that Knives found himself fumbling the clothes together perfectly, something he wasn't habitual with but it just was a way to ease his mind. It wasn't like he had any instruments or anything in the immediate area to keep him preoccupied after the lighting, after all.
And he didn't bother to grab them, either, dragging his very drugged, very blond brother out the door, but not before pausing and ramming him up against the mechanical frame. He glowered at him, leaning his face close to Vash's. "I'm returning to the pets their owner. Are you just that ungrateful, that you don't even appreciate this?"
Vash yelped as he was slammed against the frame and stared dazedly at his brother's face, struggling to stay awake.
"N-No," he managed, hoping to God that all that meant Knives was going to let him go home.
Knives's eyes narrowed as he shoved at him again, purposely wiggling to attempt to nestle Vash's spine against the doorway. His hand was wiggling the syringe angrily at his side as he shouldered Vash in place and glared harshly.
"No? No? Then what do you call this?" he snapped. It was beyond him, how unappreciative Vash always was to his clear attempts to help him. Better him. And he was very close to just sedating him for the rest of the trip, so to speak.
"Gn," was the only response Vash got out as Knives handled him. He winced painfully and made a weak attempt to push his twin away from him. Then he caught a glance of the syringe.
"NO!" he wailed, beginning to fail wildly in another escape attempt. If he was going to let him go, why couldn't he just DO SO already?!
The flailing was enough for him to spin around the syringe just so, to nestle the push against his thumb as he fisted the tube tightly. While watching Vash panic, Knives quirked the edge of his lip as though he was enjoying this just a little. Perhaps he was. But it was only because, at that point, Vash deserved it. Deserved it.
"Pathetic." And then the syringe was plunged into Vash's opposing shoulder from where the IV was inserted, roughly and with absolutely no ceremony of injection. "It's time for you to be quiet now."
It didn't take long for the drug to kick in and Vash's eyes went dead as he slumped. His vision blurred and he made a weak grab for Knives's shirt as he began to black out.
"Need a phone or somethin'," he slurred just before he lost consciousness. If that asshole was going to dump him in the middle of nowhere, he'd better at least give him the means to call for help.
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