It was like a game to them, and Omega was forced to play just the way they want each time he was dragged into that God-forsaken testing lab. Strapped down to the table, his limbs offline to prevent him from retaliating, this was the only time Omega had a reason to vocalize anything. The only time he was spoken to… or, at least, had voices around him.
A nearby scientist stabbed a long catheter into the exposed subclavian port, and Omega couldn’t help the howl of pain that burst from his mouth. His torso thrashed as much as it could, his arms and legs disturbingly still despite the obvious agony on his face. And they haven’t even injected the new agent yet.
Zero leaned forward from his perch on the catwalk overhanging the testing field, frowning a bit as Omega’s heated ruby eyes fixated on him. His other half gritted his teeth as the newly developed agent was pumped through the catheter, and the only time they lost eye contact was when Omega’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to keep his pain from them.
“Hey,” Zero called down, the scientists glancing up at him. “I do plan to inhabit my body again. I hope none of that crap is going to ruin it.”
“Be rest assured,” the head scientist, some guy Zero vaguely remembered was named Henry Weil or something. “We’re taking care of your body. Our agents only affect programming functions.”
Zero nodded, pushing himself off the railing he was leaning on just as he heard someone walk across the catwalk to him. Tilting his head, Zero smiled as X approached, the smile staying even as Omega finally couldn’t hold back his screams.
That probably was the most disturbing part, and X frowned at his friend. “Do you really have to keep him awake for this?” another scream, and X couldn’t bring himself to look over the edge.
“Unfortunately,” Zero crossed his arms, looking over the edge dispassionately. “We won’t know if the anti-Maverick measures work if he can’t feel it.”
“You can just read the results on the screen.”
“He’s a monster, X. Does it matter?”
X glared. “Yes. Monster or not, he’s still a living being.”
Zero looked at him, an expression of genuine surprise on his face. “X, he’s the original Maverick. He’s nothing but a violent, overriding program inhabiting my body. He isn’t like us… no soul. No heart. I’m ashamed he was ever a part of me.”
X couldn’t say anything more without being hypocritical. He often told Zero he wasn’t his Maverick, after all… and there that Maverick was, screaming in agony, trying to writhe on the table and not even able to do that properly. It was disgusting…
The blue-armored Reploid turned away. “I can’t handle this,” he murmured.
Zero went to him, placing his hands on X’s shoulders reassuringly. “I won’t deny a part of me likes knowing my worse half is suffering,” the blond said honestly. “But the bigger part of me dislikes the idea of making anything suffer. If I could I’d make it quick for him, but then we’d never know how to end the Maverick Crisis…”
X’s shoulders were still tense. “I know,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it or condone it.”
Zero let X go so he could walk away. He knew better than to try and make the reality anything but what it was—the torture of a Reploid for the greater good.
Looking over the edge, Zero saw Henry shaking his head and Omega a silent, twitching body on the table; he survived intact, so the experiment failed… meaning there would be another one soon. It should have been sad news, but Zero wasn’t a liar—that part of him couldn’t resist smirking at Omega’s half-lidded, slackened face.
~*~
They never had the decency to put Omega in his cot when they dumped him back in the glass box. The security guards would literally throw him into the room, close the door, lock it and by on their way. Omega would lie face down on that cold tile for an unknown amount of time, trying to recover from the recent bout of experiments.
The ‘recovery period’ he spent sprawled on the floor always varied. Even if he was a robot, Omega never knew how much time would pass by as he laid there in his silence, wondering why they couldn’t at least put him in that damn cot. But the cold ground felt rather nice against his cheek, so even when he could have moved himself to the cot, Omega stayed on the ground for even a longer but still unknown amount of time.
His body—Zero’s original body—had amazing self-repair capabilities, something Omega both appreciated and hated. If it didn’t, he’d be in pain a lot longer, but it was half the reason he survived this long. If there was one thing Omega really didn’t want, it was death. He had too much vengeance to unleash to die just yet. But for now, he was exhausted after that last attempt to kill him off.
He didn’t get off the floor that night. Not that it mattered, anyway.
A nearby scientist stabbed a long catheter into the exposed subclavian port, and Omega couldn’t help the howl of pain that burst from his mouth. His torso thrashed as much as it could, his arms and legs disturbingly still despite the obvious agony on his face. And they haven’t even injected the new agent yet.
Zero leaned forward from his perch on the catwalk overhanging the testing field, frowning a bit as Omega’s heated ruby eyes fixated on him. His other half gritted his teeth as the newly developed agent was pumped through the catheter, and the only time they lost eye contact was when Omega’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to keep his pain from them.
“Hey,” Zero called down, the scientists glancing up at him. “I do plan to inhabit my body again. I hope none of that crap is going to ruin it.”
“Be rest assured,” the head scientist, some guy Zero vaguely remembered was named Henry Weil or something. “We’re taking care of your body. Our agents only affect programming functions.”
Zero nodded, pushing himself off the railing he was leaning on just as he heard someone walk across the catwalk to him. Tilting his head, Zero smiled as X approached, the smile staying even as Omega finally couldn’t hold back his screams.
That probably was the most disturbing part, and X frowned at his friend. “Do you really have to keep him awake for this?” another scream, and X couldn’t bring himself to look over the edge.
“Unfortunately,” Zero crossed his arms, looking over the edge dispassionately. “We won’t know if the anti-Maverick measures work if he can’t feel it.”
“You can just read the results on the screen.”
“He’s a monster, X. Does it matter?”
X glared. “Yes. Monster or not, he’s still a living being.”
Zero looked at him, an expression of genuine surprise on his face. “X, he’s the original Maverick. He’s nothing but a violent, overriding program inhabiting my body. He isn’t like us… no soul. No heart. I’m ashamed he was ever a part of me.”
X couldn’t say anything more without being hypocritical. He often told Zero he wasn’t his Maverick, after all… and there that Maverick was, screaming in agony, trying to writhe on the table and not even able to do that properly. It was disgusting…
The blue-armored Reploid turned away. “I can’t handle this,” he murmured.
Zero went to him, placing his hands on X’s shoulders reassuringly. “I won’t deny a part of me likes knowing my worse half is suffering,” the blond said honestly. “But the bigger part of me dislikes the idea of making anything suffer. If I could I’d make it quick for him, but then we’d never know how to end the Maverick Crisis…”
X’s shoulders were still tense. “I know,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it or condone it.”
Zero let X go so he could walk away. He knew better than to try and make the reality anything but what it was—the torture of a Reploid for the greater good.
Looking over the edge, Zero saw Henry shaking his head and Omega a silent, twitching body on the table; he survived intact, so the experiment failed… meaning there would be another one soon. It should have been sad news, but Zero wasn’t a liar—that part of him couldn’t resist smirking at Omega’s half-lidded, slackened face.
~*~
They never had the decency to put Omega in his cot when they dumped him back in the glass box. The security guards would literally throw him into the room, close the door, lock it and by on their way. Omega would lie face down on that cold tile for an unknown amount of time, trying to recover from the recent bout of experiments.
The ‘recovery period’ he spent sprawled on the floor always varied. Even if he was a robot, Omega never knew how much time would pass by as he laid there in his silence, wondering why they couldn’t at least put him in that damn cot. But the cold ground felt rather nice against his cheek, so even when he could have moved himself to the cot, Omega stayed on the ground for even a longer but still unknown amount of time.
His body—Zero’s original body—had amazing self-repair capabilities, something Omega both appreciated and hated. If it didn’t, he’d be in pain a lot longer, but it was half the reason he survived this long. If there was one thing Omega really didn’t want, it was death. He had too much vengeance to unleash to die just yet. But for now, he was exhausted after that last attempt to kill him off.
He didn’t get off the floor that night. Not that it mattered, anyway.
/Don't know how much time has passed./