ChainBy Irfikos
Part II: Blood and Rhetoric
2.6: Will
Notes: All sections of Part 2 take place immediately before "Normal Again." All song lyrics in Part 2 are from "Psycho Killer," Talking Heads, 1977.
Psycho Killer,
Qu'est-ce que c'est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
---
The nerd is quite happy now. He's pacing and prancing about jerkily in front of the cage. Still talking. It's possible he may never shut up. Spike tries to pay attention. He's shivering with weariness. There's a strange tingling sensation throughout his body. Feels like all of his nerve endings are crawling on him like insects. After-effects of the shock, he guesses. He's dizzy and nauseous. Not much new there but it’s all heightened, worse. Not sure how much longer he can stay upright. He's got his back to the wall, letting it hold him up as much as it can. Still, the room keeps tilting around him, threatening to knock him over. He needs to sit down. Lie down. Rest a bit.Doesn't dare.
The git has finally gotten back to his little pain conditioning tirade.
"…and since you knew what to expect, you started getting used to it, am I right? You started accepting the pain as part of your life. Expecting it, even. See? Pain conditioning! You get used to it enough, anticipate it enough, and it becomes a part of who you are. And if you're smart at all, you start to realize that you still have free will."
Warren stops for a moment and looks appraisingly at him. "You aren't completely stupid, right? I mean, you do realize that you've always had free will, right?"
Spike blinks, trying to keep him in focus.
His captor sighs and resumes his frenetic pacing. It would be hell of a lot easier to stay focused on him if the bugger would just stay still for a bit.
"Spike, buddy, even now you have free will, you know. You make the decisions for yourself. 'Do I do the smart thing and do what Warren says, or do I do the incredibly stupid thing and NOT do what he says, thereby suffering the excruciating consequences.' It's a pretty much a no-brainer. Ha, get it?"
Spike wipes a hand across his upper lip again. His nose has long since stopped bleeding but it doesn't hurt to try. Warren has made a joke so Spike exhales in what he hopes will pass for a laugh. It does. The lecture continues.
"…like, come on, I'm sure there must have been a few times when it was worth the chip firing to hurt somebody, am I right? You knew what to expect… you weighed your options, and you accepted the consequences. You still have that option. But you won't use it. Wanna know why?"
The shaking is getting worse. The fatigue is too much. His body won't be capable of holding him up much longer, wall or no. Three bags of blood in… how long has it been? Weeks? Months? Years? It's not enough to sustain him. Not enough to allow him to stand up even as long as he has been. The jolts from the chip took what little strength he had. Made him feel even more disoriented and hollow. The droning voice of his tormentor is fading in and out. That's not good. Gotta focus…
"– Hey, I asked you a question!"
"…Wait… I think I… I need to –" His teeth are chattering. He can't stop the shaking.
"I don't care what you think or what you need. I asked you a question. Answer me!"
Question. Okay. Must answer. What was it? Focus, dammit… oh! Right!
"Y-Yeah… tell me why.” Got it. Hopes that's the right one. He presses both hands flat against the wall behind him to help balance.
Warren looks disappointed. The chip doesn't fire. Must have been the right answer.
"Because," he goes on, "I'm way smarter than whoever put that chip in your head. You don't know what's going to hit you now. Hell, even I don't know if you can handle it. You're just a prototype anyway. The only thing you can predict is that the pain's gonna be worse than you've felt before. Try to get used to that. And when you do… I’ll just up it a notch or two. I mean, really, Sparky, it's just a good idea to do as you're told. You go ahead and think it over. I’m sure you’ll do what’s right. Just remember, I totally own your ass."
The pacing stops. He's being stared at. Was there a question? Something expected of him? He's not sure. The figure in front of him is weaving like a serpent. Flickering like a candle flame. Spike feels his legs slide out from under him. Feels his body hit the floor. Not good. Supposed to be standing. Sure to be punished… just… needs to rest…
---
Warren looks down at the unconscious prisoner thoughtfully. "I’m a god," he mutters. “Cool.”He kicks the nearly empty blood bag past the barrier. There's not really even enough left in it to leak out. Still, nothing wrong with showing a little mercy.
Smiling to himself, he makes his way to the surveillance room to find out which of the guys fell asleep on guard duty this time. He picks up one of the super soakers on the way out.