Phil will never know that these are recordings being played for him. He'll never know if they were genuine. Because it's the not knowing that will truly break him. A man like Phil has played on so many levels of the board that any one single approach won't do it. But Number 2 is betting this will.
"I want you to obey me, Number 0202."
By hook or by crook, he will.
They have techniques a James Bond village could only dream of. Speaking of dreams. Phil is going to be having a lot of them.
The room fills with gas, though the only way Phil will know is because his hearing is excellent enough to hear it hissing into the room through the vent. It's otherwise odorless and invisible. The heaviness of a sedative comes over him again. He only just woke and they are putting him right back under. This time, they'll hook him up to wires and IVs, pump him full of drugs in one arm and life-giving nutrients in the other. On his head, they place an apparatus that will directly influence his thoughts.
Through a chemical and mechanical combination, they will keep him in a state of lucid dreaming for an untold amount of time, looping him through familiar memories over and over. They'll talk to him there, make him answer until the veil between reality and dreaming becomes so thin he can barely tell which is which.
Eventually, they get him under their thumb. Or, so they thought. And yet, here he is back again. He broke his programming. They'll have to try harder this time.
---
"You had a job to do, 0202. I'm very disappointed. You were supposed to bring her to me in the Green Dome. You knew exactly what I meant and yet I found you outside my personal residence window breaking into my home instead."
He plays a new recording of Darcy screaming. Someone with an ear like Phil's should be able to tell he hasn't heard quite this pitch and tone before. It's far more desperate. It leaves far less doubt that it might just be real.
"When you first arrived, I toyed with the idea of removing those wings of yours, but I thought you would be a responsible enough man not to warrant such a thing. I'm sad to see I was mistaken."
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timeasmymeasure
cw: gassing, medical implements for torture
Date: 2024-01-02 01:16 am (UTC)"I want you to obey me, Number 0202."
By hook or by crook, he will.
They have techniques a James Bond village could only dream of. Speaking of dreams. Phil is going to be having a lot of them.
The room fills with gas, though the only way Phil will know is because his hearing is excellent enough to hear it hissing into the room through the vent. It's otherwise odorless and invisible. The heaviness of a sedative comes over him again. He only just woke and they are putting him right back under. This time, they'll hook him up to wires and IVs, pump him full of drugs in one arm and life-giving nutrients in the other. On his head, they place an apparatus that will directly influence his thoughts.
Through a chemical and mechanical combination, they will keep him in a state of lucid dreaming for an untold amount of time, looping him through familiar memories over and over. They'll talk to him there, make him answer until the veil between reality and dreaming becomes so thin he can barely tell which is which.
Eventually, they get him under their thumb. Or, so they thought. And yet, here he is back again. He broke his programming. They'll have to try harder this time.
---
"You had a job to do, 0202. I'm very disappointed. You were supposed to bring her to me in the Green Dome. You knew exactly what I meant and yet I found you outside my personal residence window breaking into my home instead."
He plays a new recording of Darcy screaming. Someone with an ear like Phil's should be able to tell he hasn't heard quite this pitch and tone before. It's far more desperate. It leaves far less doubt that it might just be real.
"When you first arrived, I toyed with the idea of removing those wings of yours, but I thought you would be a responsible enough man not to warrant such a thing. I'm sad to see I was mistaken."