7 times hell, 6 times back (Virus, Troy)

This is the continuation of our rp in phantasm lab on Soteria, in the Ayre of Kali.


Troy Kelly, @Buckethead 's character, spliced in closely to the lab and decided to break into it. After a successful entrance, he was caught by my character, Virus.
He injected Troy, after tying him up, an agent, which potentially causes the victim to develop undetermined superpowers.

It has been long, in the dark, for Troy. Virus has not thought of undoing his ties, therefore, he stayed there, on the surgical table. In the dark... Surrounded by those almost crotesquely appearing installation. The dim, red light almost make them look like twisted machines, who attempt to reach him with their crippled arms and pull him into their agonizing embrace...

And then, a door slides open, and Virus enters the room.
The insane being still wears the attire he first wore at their first meeting; entirely dark trousers, black shirt… and, instead of a black mask, a black surgical mask, which only covers the lower half of his face. It’d anyway too dark to see anything apart the silhouette.

Virus traverses the room quickly and starts to inspect Troy… and points at him with a little, four-squared device. It gives off slight, steady, short peep-sounds. A tricorder.

Troy watched quietly. He had a decent resolve, not easily panicked by this man. “Gonna take a picture?” He smiled.

The devices gives off a distinct, rather loud and slightly piercing “Beep”, as if Troy’s comment insulted it, and Virus lowers it.

“So, the agent has spread throughout your body. Let’s give you superpowers.”
The individual puts the tricorder away in a pocket of his labcoat.

Then, he fully approaches the table and presses a button.
Air is released from somewhere under it, and the table lowers slightly.
“Let’s see…”
The black-clothed scientist’s eyes wander through the room, only to be caught by one of the technical abdominations.
“Installation 3? 3 is a good number. All good things come in threes.”
Virus chuckles, and the table sets into motion, and approaches the installation, which verily looks like a metallic spider hanging from the ceiling. It moves its bladed feets, as if it wakes up, as the table with Troy on it approaches.

Troy waits. He assumes he’ll be able to handle whatever is coming. After all, torture doesn’t work when you have decent pain tolerance.

The table comes to an halt right under the four-legged spider’s centre, and the legs slowly lower themselves onto his arms and legs.
While they lower, they change:
The blades rapidly fast retract and extend, as if some kind of fucked up tattooing needle, and a device, lowers itself and gets attached to the sides of the immobile part of the blades. These are dermal regenerators.
And they start to slice Troy’s limbs, for now, only superficial wounds, who are, seconds after, already closed by the dermal regenerator.

Virus watches intensely from a few feet distance.

He winces, closing his eyes as the multiple cuts are made.

Those slight cuts are shortly after healed by a dermal regenerator. They don’t even leave scars behind.

Aand the spider retracts… First, raising its arms, stopping the blades, and then, going idly again.
Now it’s up to Virus to awake from slumber. Up until now, he has watched the machinery intensely, his arms crossed.
Now, the black individual approaches Troy’s table, and presses another button.
The table moves towards the center again.
Virus paces after.

Click. The table arrives at the center of the room, and with the sound of air being sucked into something, it slightly raises.
Virus sighs.
“Y’know, I am not here to kill you, exactly. Neither torture you. Well, not anymore. Newest discoveries. I am more of a coach. I am going to help you to get better than humanity.”
His tone is friendly, cheerful. Almost visionary.

“Uh-huh. You know who else wanted to be better than humanity? A dude named Adolf.” He replied.

He seems to be honestly hurt, only to change his mood immediatly…
“Well, that dude would’ve gassed you at the first glance. Guess what I did not?”
To entirely hostile, and aggresive. The question he asks is toned friendly.

“I dunno, I’d rather be gassed then experimented on.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call this here an experiment exactly… More of a long-term procedure of finding the right way to improve you. A bit like Captain Ameria. Without the immediate success.”

Virus remains his cheerful, friendly tone. He even leans onto Troy’s table.

“Captain America was a willing volunteer.”

“Now, you’re ruining my groove.”
Virus says, displeased.

“Time to get you to your cell.”

Virus turns, and leaves the room, while from the ceiling, a ferocious looking gas slowly lowers itself…

Troy just watches the gas fall.

…it slowly engulfes him and forces him to pass out… And as he closes his eyes, a bright light seem to engulfe him. Just right in front of him, where it’s the brightest, the little silhouette of a winged being can be seen, which extends a hand, as if it wanted to pull him towards it.
And he wakes up as he notices the light does come from his surroundings… A clean white, well illuminated cell. A forcefield blocks the entrance.

He looked around, checking to see if he was still restrained quietly,

He is free to roam the room unrestraintly.

Actually, the cell is separated; The wall in the back of the cell leaves a spot open to go through. Sanitary facilities are located in this segragated area.

The main room features plain, but elegant furniture; a table with chairs and a bed.

On the table, a terminal is embedded. It displays icons for food and the like.

He sits down on the bed, sighing.

And since there seems to be no more interaction to be done, we’re up for the second session… This fact is soon made obvious to Troy, in the very second he was teleported from the cell into the basement again. Since the teleport was rather precise (it certainly took a long time calibrating it), he was beamed onto the table with the ties already at their places. Only after a few minutes, Virus enters the room. He humms.

“Hello again. Miss me?” He asked with a grim smile.