And so, our story of horror and revenge begins...
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:34, Sun 30 Sept 2012.

   "I hear this place is loaded. Only rich patients get in here, so it sounds like a good place to get some easy dough. Not like the doctors are gonna shoot at us or anything." There was a group chuckle at Mark's comment.
   Mark was a thin man, in his late twenties, with blonde hair that he kept short and brown eyes. The group that followed him consisted of eight other people, including myself. We were all about the same age, except Katie, who was only sixteen. Our newest 'recruit' however, was Jonathan. He was tall with dark hair, and was my age, nineteen. We found him at Sister Mary's Home in the panhandle of Idaho. I came into the family a year ago, from a different home for wayward souls in Montana.
   We all stood in a place that seemed, out of place. To me anyway, but did everyone else have a reason like me to be nervous? Glancing around at the other faces though, they all seemed fine with the fact that a large hospital was located out in the middle of nowhere near the north Wyoming mountains.
   "I want to keep this a small job, no need for everyone to go rushing in there. Susie and I will go, and we'll play the sick girl-friend bit."
   My stomach dropped. The last thing I wanted, was to do a job with Mark. Alone. I tried to get out of it, "But Anna does the best sick bit." I tried to sound casual, but he didn't buy it.
   Just three days ago, we were in southern Wyoming doing a con job to snake a couple hundred dollars out from under a small business owner. Mark didn't tell us what the business was. He had taken Janel with him to do the front act. She had only been with us for two months. I had followed because Mark had left behind his fake ID. They had already gone inside by the time I got there, and when I looked through the window, they were standing infront of a round man with a cheerful face. The fat man called Janel's attention to something on the wall, and Mark punched her in the head so hard, that she fell out cold. The fat man gave Mark a thick roll of bills, and Mark left Janel there. He saw me peeking through the window, but only caught up with me once we got back to the rest of the family.
   I didn't have a chance to speak a single word. Mark started talking at once, and had my wrist twisted behind my back. He made up a bunch of bull, about how Janel had blown the job, and called the police, and that we needed to get out of here right away. Nobody questioned him, and here we are now. Other members of the family had gone missing like this before, it wasn't new. Mark has not let me out of his sight, and has threatened to kill me if I try to run away.
   "Anna did it last time." Mark replied, his eyes cold and steely, "Besides, when was the last time you did something for this family, Susie?"
   The group fell silent, and my cheeks flushed. Every one of them was looking at me, and I new that they agreed with him. I didn't say anything, my mind was racing on fear and I couldn't stop it.
   "Fine. Everyone meet us back down the road, this shouldn't take long. C'mon, Susie." Mark grabbed my arm and we walked toward the hospital. I looked over my shoulder, the family was gone already, just like we were taught to be.
   There was not another building in sight. No cars, no sound really. Mark's grip was hurting me. He was always telling us how we wouldn't survive without him. That he was the father of this family, and that we needed to make sure that he could do his job and take care of us. For an entire year, I had believed that crap. I was still trying to come out of the mental box he had built on us all, and questioning on whether what I had seen, was what I thought.
   We were coming up to the front doors and I dug my heels in, "I'm not going in there." I said, "Just let me go. I won't-"
   Mark's hand shot out to smack me across the mouth. My head jerked to the side, my cheek stinging with hot pain. Blinking past tears, he hauled me forward again, hissing, "You won't ever get out to tell my secret, Susie." he spat my name out.
   "What secret?" I tried. No go. He hit me again, and I thought my cheek had been flayed off.
   "Shut up." he dragged me in through the front doors. Everything was sterilized white. It was like a regular lobby, a few chairs, clean floors, and a desk with a woman sitting behind it. Big eighties glasses where on her face, and her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her name tag read: E. Jones.
   As we approached, she looked up and flashed a Barbie smile, "And what may I do for you today?" she asked in a sickening sing-song voice.
   Mark jerked me closer to the counter, "She's checking in." he grunted, taking no pains to conceal his intentions. It wasn't needed, "Ms. Susan Black will be staying indefinately."
   E. Jones' face lit up with excitement, "How wonderful!"
   My fear and anger had grown with every second, and I was shaking, "I will not be staying here another minute." I said, yanking my arm from Mark's grasp and punching him in the nose. I was lucky that he didn't expect it. It took him off guard. E. Jones' punched a red button on her desk, the same smile stuck to her face.
   I turned to run for the door, and made it halfway across the lobby when two large doctors burst in from a side office. Their faces where covered by masks, and their hands with gloves. They ran to intercept me, and I lept over a white couch. That slowed them down, but only a little. One lunged and wrapped his arms around my legs, and I went crashing down. Kicking to free myself, and rolled over onto my back. The second doctor came to my side and bent to take hold of me. I bit his ankle.
   Yelling, he took a handful of my long brown hair, and yanked my head up. Screaming, my fist swung up to hit him in the crotch. The man went stiff and toppled over. While I looked to the other doctor who still had a firm grip on my legs, I saw E. Jones on the phone at her desk. Mark was gone.
   Furious now, and determined not to let him get away with his own business, I kicked myself free. Three other doctors burst into the lobby, and ran at me. I had gotten to my feet, and was almost to the door, when they all reached me. I screamed, and fought with all I had. I was tackled down and pinned, where I squirmed and swore. I felt a sharp sting on my thigh, and immediately felt my strength ebb away.
   When I looked down, I saw a lady nurse pull a needle from my leg. My muscles slowly turned to jell-o, and I couldn't move. I was released by panting doctors who stayed on the ground to catch their breath. I could see everything, hear everything, and understand everything.
   Mark wanted to make sure that I would never ruin his game, ruin his living. How could I have been so stupid, and let him get me here in the first place.
   One doctor, who was a bit shorter than the rest, stood and straighted his white coat, "Well," he said in a stringy voice, "take her to the quiet chair. We don't want another episode of violence do we?" he smiled a plastic sort of smile, and I was picked up by the two that came for me in the first place. They took me down so many halls, with so many turns that I lost my way. Finally, my feet still dragging, they opened a door to a small white room.
   In the middle of the room, a strange sort of chair stood. There was a round stool to sit on with no back. Three chains with thick velcro ties hung from the ceiling, and two were attached to the floor. I was sat down on the stool, and one doctor held me up, while the other secured my ankles to the floor chains, and raised my arms to bind my wrists in the tight velco bonds from above.
   In my mind, I was screaming, telling my body to get up and run, to fight back. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't even blink, my eyes just sat half closed like I was about to fall asleep. The doctor behind me grabbed the last middle chain, and wrapped the velco around my throat. I gagged, and was forced to sit up straight in order to breathe.
   Without a word, they turned and left me there, shocked tears running down my cheeks.



   I'm secured to a desk, a pencil nub in my hand, I sit and stare at the white sheet of paper before me. I'm shaking. How long have I been here? Two weeks? Two days? The doctor standing behind me says nothing, his arms folded across his chest, his face covered by an opperating mask. I finally focus enough to read, and realize that I'm taking a test. Ten questions.
   I screw up my face, What? The doctor behind me moves, he has a thin shiny pointer in his hand. It touches my shoulder, and a bolt of electricity blasts through me, "Write." he grunts as I gasp for breath.
   Surprised that my hair isn't smoking, I answer the stupid questions as quickly as I can. Just as I finish writing my last answer, the paper is swept away, and I feel a sting on my shoulder. Looking down, another needle is being drawn out of my arm. I feel dizzy, and I fall into darkness.



   Another room, another stool. My wrists are bound by handcuffs that are chained to a leather belt around my waist. I'm wearing a white hospital shirt, and white shorts. Why is everything so hard to focus on? I'm alone I think. I twist in my seat to look around, just as the door behind me opens. Two men walk in, one has white fabric and scissors in his hand. The other has a syringe.
   One speaks, "If you sit still, we won't cut off your ears." he throws the white fabric around me, a barber's coat. He grabs my chin and forces me to look ahead, my heart pounding. He cuts my hair. All of my beautiful brown hair cut short. I bit my lip while he did this, and when I moaned, he nipped my ear with the scissors.
   He finished, long locks of my hair now on the white floor.  I felt light headed, my hands clenched into fists under the barber coat.
   A sting on my shoulder, then black.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Sun 30 Sept 2012.

Five years.

William sat alone in his cell, a sleepy-eyed, beatific expression on his slack face. It was a carefully engineered facade; he knew they were watching him. He imagined the jumpy, black and white security screen, depicting a young man with dark hair and deep set brown eyes. He wondered if he looked happy enough that they would leave him alone, but he knew that was just wishful thinking.
They'd be coming soon. He hadn't eaten for three days. They would force him to eat, or strap him down and put a nutrient drip in his arm.
He knew they wouldn't do mind tests on him anymore; it had been weeks since the last one. He felt elated. He had convinced them that he was broken.
Now they were only running him through physical tests, like all the others with broken minds. Yesterday they had tested some kind of new adrenaline cocktail on him; he had almost gone into cardiac arrest. Almost. He was exhausted, and it was the perfect opportunity. His body felt weak now, but not weak enough.

They wouldn't let him die.

Patients came to them too far and inbetween to just let one die. Not even one so difficult as him. He chuckled inside, while maintaining his thoughtless-looking exterior.
Actually escaping alive hadn't entered into William's wildest thoughts in years. He had long ago given up on ever, ever getting out. At first he hoped his parents would come for him, with an army of S.W.A.T. special agents to wipe out all the people who were hurting him. Then he found out that they had been told he was dead. He tried escaping himself then, every chance he got. He never even got out of the building. And the punishments were severe. He still had a scar on his neck from when they had put him in the quiet chair the last time he had tried to get out, and he had managed to knock the stool over and nearly hang himself. His first real escape attempt. If only his arms had been longer.

There was a distinctive clacking sound from the door. William closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. The sound of his door unlocking always terrified him, no matter how many times he heard it. Locks were no protection in this place, where everyone but him had a key. A female orderly with a tray of food stepped inside, with hair that was a rank orangish blonde, brown eyes and a pinched face, covered with freckles that were anything but cute.
"Amanda, you absolute dream of a beautiful woman," William said with a gasp of delight. "Your home cooking? How could I refuse?"
He actually had no idea what the orderly's real name was, but in his mind he had taken to calling her Puppis. He swore he saw the constellation's pattern in the freckles on her face. Poop deck.

Puppis looked at the tray she had left that morning at the base of his cot, which remained untouched. She looked back at him, squinting in that way she had. He giggled. "You know, you're awful cute." Puppis huffed and reached back, knocking twice on the door. Two more came in, bouncers by the look of them.
Bouncers were the biggest, surliest people the hospital hired, to help them control the more rowdy patients. They always wore surgical masks, so he couldn't tell them apart. He always felt vaguely surprised when he saw more than one of them at a time. They all looked the same, so he always thought there was just one for some reason.
The bouncers moved him from the cot to the single chair in the room, a hard, bare, spindly thing that had lots of dents in it from the abuse it had gotten over the years from William.
They secured his wrists and ankles to it with wide velcro manacles as Puppis stirred a plastic cup of slimy mashed potates with a spoon. He giggled as the bouncers tugged them cruelly tight. "That tickles!"
Puppis leaned toward him with a spoonful of white goo. William went crosseyed at it. "You can't possibly expect me to eat that filth, Marge. Break into my private stores of caviar."
He sneered with an arrogant air, looking down on her even though he was sitting. Puppis leaned back with restrained fury in her eyes. He guessed she was resisting the compulsion to flick the spoonful of yuck at him.
One of the bouncers left the room while she tried to get William to eat every other thing on the plate. It was simple to refuse and entertaining to watch her frustration grow. He knew the unpleasantness would start soon, so he took his enjoyment while he could.

His heart turned to ice when he saw the doctor the bouncer brought back with him. Dr. Horrible. A tall, gaunt man, he looked like his favorite hobby was reanimating the dead. He was the best at taking a patient to the utmost brink of mortal agony, and then bringing them back alive. His one hope was that the doctor would overestimate his strength, just this once, and he would die.

William allowed his face to smooth into a genial smile. "Ah, Jerry. I am your Captain Hammer." It was a reference only he understood. Dr. Horrible set a case on the cot and pulled a syringe free from its snug foam compartment. He turned to the camera in the upper corner of the cell.
"Time index 1027. Subject W. Blake. Testing chemical agent Durango 5 for refinements needed."
Ah, two birds with one stone. Test out a product and punish him at the same time. This must be something special.
Dr. Horrible turned to him. "Take a bite, or be injected."
"Direct today, aren't we?" William slurred. He lowered his head away from the spoonful of food Puppis held out to him. Dr. Horrible leaned down and pricked the needle into William's thigh, right through his white shorts. He squeezed momentarily and then withdrew the needle. Plenty of yellowish fluid remained in the vial.
Beside the normal discomfort of injection, William felt nothing. "Why, it's a dud!" he exclaimed with mock chagrin. "Really, the nerve of some scie...!"

His leg started to burn like it was actually aflame. He choked on his sentance as his back arched, straining against his bonds, agony spreading from the area of injection.
He didn't scream. He had been at this business for too long to scream. He was vaguely aware of Dr. Horrible talking his notes for the log, but William didn't care to listen until the pain began to fade.
"... desired affect. Side effects," The doctor bent over him, tugging the leg of his shorts up to look at the skin of his thigh. It was mottled yellowish purple, and it ached something feirce. "Chemical bruising," Dr. Horrible said, clucking in dissatisfaction. "Formula must be reworked. W. Blake, please describe the sensation you just experienced."
They were asking for it.
"Well, it felt rather like a pillow fight," he said in a weary, pain-wracked voice that took no effort to create. "Feathers everywhere, you know."
Dr. Horrible rolled his eyes, leaned forward and injected William's chest without a warning.
When the fit had passed, William broke into high-pitched, cackling laughter, deciding he would not say one more word. They offered him food, or pain. Again, he chose pain. And again. And again. Finally they realized that this was only going to get their paitent killed, so they resorted to the easy solution.

Dr. Horrible couldn't resist one last parting guesture. He waved away Puppis and her syringe of sedative. He held the Durango 5 vial up in front of William's face, waiting until his dazed eyes focused on it to speak. There was a little less than half of the liquid left. The sickly light from the florescent strip on the ceiling passed through it and danced erratically on William's sweaty forehead. A crazy half smile distorted the doctor's face, and a speck of foam appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't think we don't know what you're doing. This is a chemical agent that fools your nerves into feeling pain. It doesn't actually do any permanent damage. There's no chance of it killing you," he said, straightening up and running his hand along William's shoulders as he walked around behind him, coming to rest on the knobs of his captive's spine. "Not even in this amount."
William felt a pinch between his shoulder blades as Dr. Horrible injected the rest of the syrum directly into his spinal cord. In the instant before the pain began, William chuckled depreciatively. "What a waste."

His vision fractured as his brain decided that his entire body had burst into flame.
Is this it? he wondered abstractly, thrashing uncontrollably in the chair. Please let this be it. Everything went dark long before the pain ended. He realized his eyes must have rolled up into his head. He only got flashes. The hateful smirk on Dr. Horribles face as he watched his patient writhe. The wide-eyed, almost eager look on Puppis' face. The two impassive bouncers, who waited in parade rest for the doctors to finish up their fun so they could clean up.
It went on and on. He was being slow-roasted, experiencing the agony of blackened, cracked flesh that oozed bubbling, boiling juices. He was being seared down to the bone.
It slowly escalated to the point where his mind couldn't take it anymore.
Up to this point he had stubbornly remained silent. He became aware of a throat-ripping cry that tore from him seconds before everything stopped with the suddeness of a slammed door.

***

William noticed that breathing hurt. He also noticed that the left half of his body was throbbing along with the beating of his heart. The right half also throbbed but it was muted. He opened eyes that felt full of sand and looked around as best he could without moving his head. Getting over the disappointment that he was still alive, he saw that he was strapped to the bed, lying on his side, an IV leading to the inside of his elbow.
He could see the chemical bruise blotching the pale skin of his arms, and judging by the throbbing, it was covering most of his body. He lay there for a few hours, unable to move, staring at the familiar cracks on the opposite wall, blinking slowly now and then.

He heard a comotion outside. He listened since there was nothing much better to do, wondering if a patient had broken free. He didn't bother to wish them luck. No one ever escaped this place. No one ever would. Including him.

   Susan tugged and pulled at the thick velcro that strapped her to the table, she had just woken up, and was alone. The table was in the centre of the room, and there were sensors taped to her temples, her arms, legs, and over her heart under her white shirt. A tall machine stood behind her, but she couldn't see it very well. She tried to wiggle her wrists out, but the straps were too tight. She tried to calm down, breathing deeply and closing her eyes. She shook her head as her thoughts turned to what could happen.
   Suddenly, the door opened, and Susan raised her head to look. Three doctors had entered, along with a beefy assistant. Two women, and one man, tall and gaunt. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the sight of him. The buff nurse stood to one side, arms folded across his chest. The two lady doctors bustled to the machine with slightly bored expressions on thier faces.
   "Time index 985. Subject name, S. Black. Conducting first test for tissue strength, and brain activity during electric shock."
   "What are you talking about?" Susan asked, managing to keep the fear out of her voice as the doctor turned to look down on her, a twisted smile on his face. "I demand to be let out of here!" she shouted, tugging at her bonds again.
   The doctor laughed, leaning down to put his face close to her's, "One thing you will learn quickly; you have no choices, and you will never get out." he straightened back up from Susan's shocked face, and said to the others with excitment in his voice, "Begin at level one, five seconds."
   Without warning, a bolt of electricity blasted through Susan and she gasped in surprise, her body freezing up until the five seconds was up. Coughing, she barely had time to catch her breath before he said, "Level two." Another shock, and Susan shook while she bit her lip. She was feeling hot, and her heart and lungs hurt.
   What seemed like hours later, Susan could barely hear the doctor's voice saying happily, "Level eighteen." The pain was so intense, her muscles felt like they were on fire, her heart felt like it was giving out, and her lungs must have been smoking. Another scream tore from Sue's ripped throat, and her back arched up off the table as she thrashed, tears running down into her hair.
   Finally, it stopped, and she collapsed back onto the table with a sob. Her body was shaking, and she couldn't stop it. Looking through her tears at the grinning face of the doctor, she rasped, "Stop.."
   "Excellent! Level nineteen!"
   Susan's screams echoed down the hallway, until they stopped suddenly.

   She was in bed, she was awake, but her eyes were closed. Her recovery from the electrocution was rushed through several injections to her main muscles. The stuff they put in her made it feel like ice was growing on her bones. She lay alone, shivering and her teeth chattering. Her hair handn't gone back down, and it had been two days since the first test.
   A lady nurse walked into the room, a tray in her hands. Susan didn't open her eyes, but listen as the nurse said in a prepy voice, "Last one, and you'll be right as rain tomorrow."
   A freezing needle sank into her skin, right over her heart.

   Shoes. Something Susan hadn't had since coming to this place. They felt tight on her feet as she was walked down the hallway. Her wrists were cuffed infront of her, and a tall mask covered man walked on either side of her. Could she out run them? With brand new white shoes on, she felt like she could. Her eyes moved down each seperate hallway that they passed, and at last, she saw a window.
   Hope! Acting mostly out of desperation she kicked one muscle man in the shin, and spun to slam both fists into the others abdomen. They stumbled, and Susan took off down the hall with the window at the end. A whistle pierced the air, and thundering footsteps gained on her quickly.
   She went down, bulky arms wrapped around her from behind. The air was forced out of her lungs as the weight of the man squished her to the ground. He get up, and dragged her with him, the cold eyes above the mask showing no emotion, not even annoyance. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her by it back down the hallyway. She kicked and shouted for help, but none of the many white doors opened to her, until they reached the one she was ment for.
   The room was small, and had a tredmill in the middle. But no controls that she could see, just the track. They set her on the track, and tied her hands to the panel before her. A woman doctor was sitting in a chair beside the tredmill, a clip board in her hand, "Time index 992. Subject S. Black. Endurance test."
   Susan felt her stomach twist, and her face blanched, "No." she whispered. The track started to move under her feet, slow at first, but what else could she do but walk, or get dragged. She kept the same pace for a while, then the speed picked up, and she had to jog to keep her feet under her. She was breathing a little heavier now. The doctor scribbled away on her clip board, and Susan hated her for it.
   Faster, faster, faster! Susan was sprinting, lungs straining for breath, sweat covering her whole body. Her legs were beyond burning, and she simply could not feel them anymore. She had been running all day, she was sure of it. Her heart was going to explode! Hands gripping the rails in the attempt to pull herself forward. Her lungs here burning, her vision was darkening.
   Finally, her legs gave out, and she felt her knees hit the track, and smelled burning flesh before she blacked out.

   Was it three weeks later? Susan sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, just like a good girl. She had been on her best behavior all this time. She had eaten the poison food, answered the questions, and had been good the the hateful doctors. They hadn't tied her to the bed today, and that was what she had been waiting for.
   It should be any minute now, the nurse would come by with a tray of rotting food. When the nurse did enter, Susan resisted the urge to pounce on her, not until the woman was close.
   Evening S. Black." she said cheerfully. All of the nurses talked like that. Like they were talking to babies, "Dinner time." she set the tray on the bed beside Susan, and got punched in the throat.
   Without waiting, Susan grabbed the stunned nurse and dragged her down to smash the woman's head onto the ground a few times. Bloodied, she threw the bowl of green soup at the camera in the corner, and broke it. Stripping the woman, she put on the white coat and hat, and walked out the door with her hands in her pockets.
   Her heart was racing, and she could see three burly mask covered men running down the hall. Squeeking in surprise, flattened herself against the wall, raising the pitch of her voice, "In there! Blood everywhere!" They blew past her, not even giving her a second glance. She hurried down the hall, not even knowing what she was doing, or where she was going.
   The adrenaline pulsing through her system gave her a clarity in the mind that she had not felt in a while. She wandered, bumping into no one, until warning lights flashed in the hallways, and a siren began to blow. Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway in her direction. Panicing, Susan opened the nearest door, went in, and closed it behind her.
   Turning her head to look around, she saw a boy strapped to a bed, an IV in his arm.

William regarded her with slight surprise. An orderly with blood staining their hands was a fairly common sight, but not one that looked so panicked. Perhaps she was new. But no, she looked too alive to be an employee, even one that was recently hired. A little spark of hope blossomed in his chest. He tried not to let it get too much, because what if it was futile?
He turned his head as best he could to bet a better look at her. The chemical bruise showed purple and ugly on his arms and creeping up his neck from under his collar.
"Excuse me," he said. "In the case that you are not a hallucination, would you mind stepping on my neck?"
A crushed larynx would quickly solve all his problems.

   Susan glanced to the camera up in the corner, it was looking away from her to the bed. She looked back to the boy, "Help me out of here." she hissed, keeping her voice down, "I have to get out." she looked him up and down, thinking he may not be in the best shape. She frowned, listening to the siren out in the hall.

William sighed with exaggerated patience. "There is no escape from here. Believe me. Now, if you wouldn't mind...?" He angled his head against the bed so his bruised throat was more exposed. He spoke calmly, almost seductively. "You could help me really escape from here, before you get caught. Do me this one favor, and I won't scream for help right now."
It seemed to him as reasonable as anything. His deep brown eyes regarded her with cool expectation.

   Susan watched him for a moment, a crazy idea entering her head, "I'm not going to kill you." she whispered, looking into his empty eyes, "But after I get loose again, because I will.." she strode across the room quickly, knowing that she would be seen, and bent over the bed to give him a gentle but feeling kiss on the lips. After a moment, she leaned back to look deep into his eyes, her own alight with a fierce fire, "I'll come back to see if you've changed your mind."
   The door burst open behind her.

For a long time after she was taken away, William lay on his cot in a state of total shock. When she... kissed... him, he had felt a sensation akin to when the doctors hooked him up to electrodes.
He had never been kissed on the lips before. His body felt tingly and warm; it was more feeling than he had felt in years, besides hate and hopelessness.
He couldn't get the image of her firey eyes out of his head.
To his immense and everlasting surprise, he found he was looking forward to her next visit.

A few days later, the feeling had faded, and he had recovered enough to resume testing. His spine was rubbing blisters on his stomach; the death from physical exhaustion/starvation wasn't going to work if they could just keep him alive with nutrient drips and protein shots. So he started eating again, and just in time. That day they put him in a tank of ice water for five hours to research hypothermia.

Unfortunately, he didn't freeze to death.

   Susan wad dragged back down the hall, kicking and screaming. Once they reached an unfamiliar door, she had a black eye and a swollen lip. Her stomach had been hit so many times, she couldn't take in a full breath. One of the masked brutes had her by the hair, and she was in the process of kicking his knees, when the door was opened, and they pushed her inside.

   Nearly stumbling, she gained her feet and dashed back to the door, just in time to slam into it as it shut. Reaching down, she found that there was no door knob. Taking a slow breath, Susan turned to look at the room. Three walls, the floor, and the ceiling where cushioned thinly. A white stool stood in the center. The fourth wall, was a giant mirror. Sue glanced up, no camera's in the corners, must be a one way mirror. Striding toward her reflection, Susan cupped her hands against the glass and leaned forward to try and see through.
   Nothing.

   Stepping back, she looked at herself. She had lost weight, and her skin was no longer a healthy tan. She frowned, saying aloud, "What now? she didn't expect anyone to answer, and no one did.
   Susan folded her arms, staring into the mirror with a glare on her face. What seemed like hours passed, and Susan's feet were beginning to hurt.
   "Why would you want to leave us?" a mechanical sounding voice asked, so suddenly that Susan jumped.
   "Because you're torturing bastards." Susan spat, pacing up and down infront of the mirror.
   "How do you feel?" the voice asked emotionlessly.
   Susan stopped, "Let me show you." she said through gritted teeth. Turning around, she bent to take hold of the stool legs. Hefting it up, she grinned at the mirror, and swung like she was running home. The first hit cracked the glass, the second broke bits off, and as she pulled back for another swing, the door burst open. Shouting, she smashed the mirror and glass flew everywhere.
   She saw the faces of the doctors sitting behind the mirror, they were all smiling. Then she was tackled into the glass, something blunt hit her in the head, and she lost consciousness.

   Susan woke suddenly. She had a splitting headache, and was strapped to an operating table. She tugged at the bonds, but as usual, they were strong. A few doctors where standing around her, scribbling on clipboards, and checking the monitor of the computer behind her. She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting, knowing that it would do no good. It took her a moment to notice that all of the doctors were wearing a sort of gas mask. It covered their entire face, and none of their skin was exposed. Her heart rate started to excelerate, and she could hear the beeping monitor pick up the pace with her. "What's going on?" Susan asked.
   "We haven't begun yet." the doctor said, bored. Susan looked up, and saw a large vent coming from the ceiling. There was plenty of time for her to panic by the time the doctors were ready. She didn't hear the film documentation, her eyes locked on the vent above. What would they do?
   She heard the vent click on and start to run, she took in a quick breath and held it. A yellow gas flowed out of the vent, straight down on Susan. The burning started at once. Her eyes began to water, her skin started to itch. She tugged on the straps, dying to scratch. Her lungs were going to pop. Gloved hands came through the yellow haze, one with a slim knife, and created a long cut on her arm from wrist to elbow.
   Susan gasped in pain, the gas felt like it was pouring into the wound, creating what felt like an open flame along her arm. The gas was in her lungs now, and it was impossible to hold her breath. She began to scream, her insides felt like they were melting. Her arm was like molten lava. She thrashed on the table, arching her back and slamming her head against the flimsy pillow. Maybe if she knocked herself out...
   She saw black spots, and a gloved hand pressed against her forehead to keep her head down. She couldn't take a full breath, her lungs where closing. She could see nothing but the sickly yellow mist that was thick in the air. Her convusling slowly stopped, her chest was only moving in the slightest as she struggled to breathe. Her arm was still on fire, her skin was covered in ugly welts, and her insides felt like they had melted all together.
   She heard a click, and all of the yellow gas was sucked from the room. It was another few minutes before a muffled voice declared, "We're clear." The unmasked faces of the doctors loomed over her, "Red eyes, blistered skin, heavily infected arm, needs amputation if not treated. Lung constriction." There was a sting on her shoulder, and she felt her airways slowly open. She took in deep breaths, and one gaunt doctors' face took up her vision entirely. He grinned down at her madly, sticking a needle into her neck, "Try to leave us again, and we will take your arm off." his voice echoed through her ears as everything turned black.

William lay shivering on the floor beside his cot. They wouldn't give him an electric blanket because the last time they did that, he had almost electrocuted himself. They had stopped him before the voltage could become lethal. So now they had just given him lots of the regular, thin cot blankets (with tear-proofed edges so he couldn't rip them into rope; they had already come like that before he was even a prisoner here).

He wasn't rubbing his chest to promote circulation, like they'd instructed. He didn't put the blankets on. He didn't drink the hot beverage that was probably loaded with who knows what. The bone-chilling cold stayed with him, and made his head whirl pleasantly. He was starting to feel sleepy and warm, and his nose was running. He hoped it wasn't the cold going away, but the sign that his suffering would soon be over. When he had finally passed out in the ice tank, he had felt all warm and content first, after hours of freezing numbness. If the doctors hadn't warmed him up, he would have died pretty soon.

He hoped he would die pretty soon. If only that girl had killed him, instead of leaving him with no hope. Well, she had said she would come back. But he knew he would probably never see her again. The memory of her kissing him came suddenly and without warning; a warm tingle spread from his lips through his whole body, waking him up, pulling him out of his stupor. He cursed out loud, turning on his side and punching the linoleum. Then he put his face in his hands as he felt his body responding to the small adrenaline rush, and slowly warming up. It was hopeless. It was all her fault. He wanted to die so badly... and now she wouldn't let him.

***

In the observation room, a tall, gaunt doctor watched with interest, his eyes fixed on the one screen among many on the wall. This was more of a reaction from William than they had seen in years. The only thing different that had happened lately was that new subject who had tried to escape had gone into his room. The S. Black girl. Dr. Horrible (as he will be referred to for lack of any other name) hadn't personally seen the tape of what had happened between them, so he had an orderly call up the video.

After watching, he was inflamed with a new idea for an experiment. He called his associates immediately to schedule a conference. It would be groundbreaking research, unlike anything this clinic had ever done. He was so excited with the possiblities, he even cancelled the schedualed experiment on subject R. Jones, which he had been looking forward to all week. Anything involving snakes was a good time for him, but this had just taken precedence.

Later, standing in front of a projector screen, facing his fellows, Dr. Horrible outlined the parameters of this new experiment. The lights dimmed over the long table where all the senior doctors and scientists sat. He clicked the remote in his hand and a short, soundless clip played, of William bound to the chair in his cell, screaming. He felt the palpable blood-lust rise in the air. He had chosen his opening scene well. It faded into a shot of the boy sitting at a table, talking with a stupid look on his face. His dark eyes looked dead.

"Subject W. Blake, age nineteen. This subject has been with the company for the longer than most of our subjects. He has a fast metabolism and a healthy body; to his personal dissatisfaction, I'm sure. Subject has been bent on suicide for three years. Knowing this, we've taken special precautions with his treatment. He responds very well to our revival techniques. But recently, we've had a shake up." He clicked the remote again, and another person appeared on the screen. Sitting stiffly at the same table, righteous fire in her insolent eyes, was the new subject. "Subject S. Black. She entered our fine establishment recently, and tried to escape yesterday. She is currently recovering from the punishment, as, of course, she was unsuccessful." There was a shared, satisfied chuckle throughout the room. Dr. Horrible allowed himself a small smile. No on had ever escaped this place, and no one ever would.

"But, during her escape attempt, she happened upon one of the only unlocked doors in the building," he said, clicking the remote. Another surveillance image appeared on the screen, this time with sound. The dull hum of the air conditioning was all that could currently be heard, and the image was of William, strapped down on his cot. "W. Blake's cell was left unlocked because he was secured to the bed," Dr. Horrible explained. "The orderly who had this error in thinking has been straightened out. Anyway, her mistake proved to be our advantage."

He turned to watch the screen as the drama unfolded. They all watched and listened when she entered, William asked her politely to kill him, and she refused... and kissed him. After she was taken away, Dr. Horrible clicked the remote, making the image freeze and zoom in on William's face. The image was grainy, but they could all see the wonder and shock in his expression. There was light in his eyes. Dr. Horrible turned from the frozen image to address his confederates again.

"When W. Blake arrived here, he was much like S. Black. Stubborn. Willful. Full of fire and the will to live. But we broke him of that." There was another self-appreciating chuckle that spread throughout the darkened room. "Spiritless, his only hope is death, no matter how prolonged and agonizing. Congradulations, gentlemen; we have another success." There was scattered applause. Dr. Horrible drew himself up for his big climax.

"Or... do we? Look at this face. Does this boy look like he's broken and hopeless?" There were confused murmurs. Where was the gaunt doctor going with this? He smiled evilly, and suddenly everyone was leaning forward to hear what he was going to say next.

"I propose a new experiment. One that will penetrate the deepest levels of human pain and suffering. We will throw these two young people together. The boy is handsome and withdrawn; the girl is beautiful and full of life, unbroken. They will begin to have some emotion for each other, according the designs of our new program. When it becomes obvious that they depend on one another, that they cannot function properly without the other, when... they love each other.... We will make them break each other. If necessary, we will kill one in front of the other. I suggest the girl. It will be interesting to see what new depths of despair we can make W. Blake sink to, after we have allowed him to be brought up, and reawakened his desire to live. It will be the ultimate study of pain. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for listening. A full report will be handed out, and we will meet again tomorrow for furthur discussion."

As the lights went up, they all looked at him with wonder and admiration. A few even stepped up to congradulate him on conceiving such a brilliant experiment. He could see there would be no objections raised tomorrow. They were all shaking with eagerness to begin. It would have to be careful though; they would create a timeline that would be followed strictly and they would do it with cool heads. Nothing, not even human emotion, could be allowed to interfere with science.

That was the beauty of this place.

Chapter Two: --->