overjoyed_logs | [Closed] Who was broken by trained personnel

Entry tags:

[Closed] Who was broken by trained personnel

Who: Giovanni and Julius
Where: Company barracks, Leith
When: W5D7
Summary: a lost dog and his Handler
Restrictions/Warnings: none probably, maybe references to violence

[It's quiet, at least. It's not often something he wants or needs, this time spent alone to focus and think and perhaps there's danger in that right now, after everything. But there's a certain level of comfort there too, following the mayhem and raw-edged madness that had overtaken him at the riots, after time spent restrained and uncertain (and filled with the hard edges of fear), confined to that killjoy's ship. After being handed over to Sui Feng at some time poised precariously between morning and night, not knowing how things would go or how they'd end or what his sickening failure would lead her to do to him.

It hadn't been so bad, in the end, and yet.

His nerves are still frayed and damaged and raw and as he sits alone in the small, white cell of a room, specifically designed for keeping the Dogs when they're needed on Leith, there's something steadying in the silence. There's a well of self-loathing in him that stretches out a mile wide, but despite all that, his thoughts are curiously blank. Worn down and flattened out by all the things that preceeded this.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ After a long while, the hydraulic door of the corridor opens - but before the person can walk further, there's the sound of a coughing fit. Presumably they still need some time to catch a breath, but it's shorter than one would expect.

And then Julius' face appears at the door. He's fidgeting with the lock so he can let himself in, but he manages to speak, a little hoarse: ]

Where have you been?

[ It's a lot more emotion than the man usually shows, if ever - but still not enough to imply actual anger. ]

[He hears him before he sees him, catches his verdant scent, and already Giovanni's face turns in the direction of the door, just moments before Julius appears. He catches the cut-off coughing fit, the hoarseness of his voice when he speaks, and vaguely, he feels something (not quite concern, not strong enough for that, but something almost like it). It's quickly lost, though, in his own bleak wave of feeling, a sick twist between the ribs because he can't yet discern the shape of Julius' reaction to his failure, doesn't know what's already been said.

He's on his feet and standing to attention before the other man has fully entered the room, head down and eyes lowered and what's visible of his face schooled into a curious blankness.]

My apologies, Sir. I was...detained.

[A moment of hesitation, and then--]

...Has Captain Sui Feng spoken with you?

[ Soon enough the lock opens, hampered by Julius' own ill health - but when he finally regards Giovanni, it's not with anger or reprimand, but with worry and a sadness that might have been familiar if the other had looked. ]

No. She will see me later. [ That explains it. He walks closer now, brow furrowed, yet hesitant as he approaches; unsure of what exactly to do. ] Are you hurt anywhere? If you do not feel like telling me what happened, I can ask her later.

[ Detained? But by whom? ]

[His response, it's surprising. Has Giovanni looking up with head slightly tilted and the vaguest shadow of something like confusion in his otherwise blank face. There's no anger or hardness in his superior's voice, the request after his physical condition is not the kind of question he could ever have predicted. As such, it takes him a moment to respond. To organise his scattered thoughts.]

...not anymore. The Spine, you see. One of my augmentations is autonomic regeneration.

[He shrugs, frowns slightly, thinking over just what he should tell him and how much he ought to leave to their mistress. The fact that he isn't being ordered to respond doesn't, he thinks, absolve him of the responsibility.

The answer he gives, it both does and does not explain everything.]

I lost control of myself.

[ Losing control. If Giovanni expected any sort of rebuke, it wouldn't come - only a short but heavy silence, a frown crossing Julius' face. But it's a thoughtful, worried frown as always, no trace of anger. ]

I see. [ 'I was worried', goes the unspoken notion - but it remains unspoken, because it wouldn't help things. ] You should rest.

[ Maybe he'll be able to talk Sui Feng out of giving him another assignment later, should it arise. ]

[A rebuke, anger of some kind, at the very least overt disappointment in him. But Giovanni discerns none of those things in either Julius' voice nor his demeanour. Back at the Kennel, he would have been punished severely for such a lapse, would have been informed under no uncertain terms of his own uselessness, his lack of worth. But it doesn't come, and it leaves him feeling unsure. A little confused, if - vaguely - relieved.

That someone could have been worried for his wellbeing is an alien notion, too distant from everything he knows to be understood.]

I've been resting here, Sir. Since this morning. And--

[A slight pause, a vague undercurrent of reluctance and humiliation.]

--I was unable to do much, whilst kept restrained aboard the killjoys' ship. I suppose that's a little like rest.

[Sleep, though. It's been a few days now since he last slept, and creatures like him, they don't need much of it, but they do require some, now and then.]

[ Kidnapping is by no means a pleasant experience; it doesn't need a genius to understand that. And Sui Feng would no doubt have run him through a shredder metaphorically once he's back - so it falls to him to provide the contrast, as always. ]

Did you sleep?

[ A little slower now, in case it made the other feel uncomfortable. ]

I can make you some tea.

[ In many ways he's reminded of how he might have played a role similar to Lapis, but that's just passing it on. ]

[Again, his confusion shows in the planes and angles of his face. Julius is like this, it's something he's come to understand throughout the short length of time they've been assigned together, but something like this, such a monumental failure-- that he'd take it all so easily and without anger is still a difficult thing to understand.

Slowly, he shakes his head. Answers the question.]

Not in a while.

[Two days? Three? He can't be quite sure.]

And you don't need to do that for me.

[Something they're both aware of, and something Giovanni already knows the other man is prepared to do, regardless.]

[ There are a couple more things he could have probably said; told the other of the hours he spent searching for him, but it would be counterproductive. Giovanni's lack of understanding only deepens his resolve, for if left alone he would suffer even more, and any assistance possible should be given. ]

I will be back. Please wait here.

[ He sets off at a trot, vanishing out of the room and leaving the door closed but not locked - returning perhaps a little fast to have made tea from scratch, a thermos in his hand. Inside, tea made from chamomile leaves, no caffeine.

Maybe it won't work, but there's no harm trying. ]

This might help you sleep.

[ The only explanation that's needed, apparently. ]

[Giovanni watches Julius leave, gaze lingering on the space he had occupied even after he's disappeared from view, and he remains standing numbly in the centre of the room until the moment his superior returns.

But he isn't left to his own devices for long, and when the man Julius reappears with thermos in hand, Giovanni's eyes go to him, to the offered tea. Something herbal, he can tell from the scent, though he has no name for the precise mixture it contains. And it's entirely possible that his physiology will negate any benefits of the chamomile, but there's something to be said for the warmth of it, for the steadiness it brings. The steadiness he's come to associate with both the offer of tea and Julius himself, since their first meeting.

There's a moment's pause, and then he's extending a hand to take it.]

Thank you.

[Another brief hesitation, and then--]

Do you mind if I sit?

[The room is small and bare beside a narrow bed pushed up against one wall, the sheets crisp and white as the rest of their surroundings. It's clearly untouched, no sign that he's attempted sleep during the hours he's already spent in here.]

Edited 2017-02-23 16:49 (UTC)

[ It's not a detail that he's missed, but as with all things it's best left unsaid. ]

Please do. If you would like privacy, I can leave.

[ He can part with his thermos for a while, it doesn't matter. But if he's not asked to leave, he would station himself near the wall, leaning against it - not far enough from the other to imply distance, but not close enough to be intrusive, either.

Maybe it's the sense of worry, or just a silent solidarity - but this is enough. Two monsters left to their own devices. ]

[And with permission granted, he crosses the small distance to the waiting bed, sits down, thermos flask held between curving palms. As expected, the warmth of it is a pleasant thing, and he grounds himself around it, the hard spikes of anxiety that have been cutting through him beginning to soften out just a little, become easier to bear.]

I'm not opposed to you staying, if you'd like.

I will, then.

[ Giovanni doesn't expect him to talk if there's nothing to say; it's not something that can be said for a lot of people. So he stands, letting the quiet seep into the air between them, his own manner subdued and without judgment. Easy as his partner is to read on the battlefield, he is a closed book off it. So Julius can only wait. ]

[And it's true-- he doesn't find the silence that builds up around them discomforting, and there's something to be said for being back in a familiar environment, strange as it might seem from an outside perspective to feel steadied by a place so bereft of personal artifacts. It's what he knows, this small plain room so similar to the ones back at the Kennel, in the presence of someone placed above him, who's orders he'll follow implicitly. For something like him, there's certainty in that/ A stability he feels, more than ever, that he needs.

And so for long, drawn-out moments he says nothing at all, occasionally sipping the tea he feels he doesn't deserve but appreciates all the same. Slowly, things start to settle in him, the tremulous pulse of fear that has been with him since awakening to find himself in the killjoys' ship finally easing away into background noise. Something more easily tolerable.

It's a while before he speaks, but eventually he does. Julius' companionable silence has paid off, it seems.]

It's never happened to me, before. That level of loss of control.

[His voice is a quiet thing, and he doesn't look up at his Handler as he speaks. Keeps his eyes on the thermos flask, instead.]

[ If anything, he's content to wait, always being more comfortable in silence than in crowds or places filled with sound. A result of his own upbringing, ten years shut in a lab away from most human contact, the silence ringing in his ears and metamorphosing into something almost comforting.

When Giovanni speaks, he raises his head to look at the other, expression softening into what could almost be recognizeable as sympathy. ]

We can work to prevent it from happening again. Would you like that?

[ It's important to understand his partner's own views, he thinks. To force normal perspective on him would be asking a blind man to discern colour - counterproductive, and ultimately useless. ]

[Recognisable, perhaps, to someone who knows what it looks like, but for Giovanni the exact emotion that shows on the other man's face isn't something he can accurately discern. The softening though, it's something he at least sees even if he can't fully comprehend it, at least for the brief moment his eyes lift to his superior's face before returning to the flask in his hands.

As always, there's confusion and a distant nagging kind of twist in him when faced with anything so forgiving, with words that leave him with options. His brow furrows, just slightly, but he answers all the same.]

Yes. It's a necessity, I think. Maintain control, or risk being put down.

[A prospect that both frightens and pulls at him, fear mixed in with a vague kind of longing. But neither emotion is detectable in his voice-- he maintains that cool flat calm with which he generally speaks, although quiet.]

[ The two of them share a lot more than Giovanni realizes, though Julius doesn't expect him to. ]

Very well. Do you have an idea of how we can try to do that?

[ His own voice is quiet, thoughtful. Despite the time they've spent together, he still doesn't know a lot about Giovanni's origins. ]

[Just slightly, his brows pull together in a frown.]

I'm not sure, Sir. It's...well. It's never happened to me, before. There was so much blood, and all the screaming, I was excited and it all came rising up as it always does, the thrill of it, but then--

[Slowly, he raises a hand to the collar at his neck, fingers moving lightly over the band of metal that always stays cool despite its proximity to his hot flesh.]

--I hit the switch.

[ It's not something he can empathize, but he'll try to understand. ]

What does the switch do?

[ He comes a little closer so he can get a better view at the collar. During the time they've spent together he's guessed at what it does, but it was never a polite thing to ask about. ]

[Not a polite thing to do. And yet the fact remains that if Julius were to choose to manhandle him, to take him by the chin and lift his head to get a better look at it, even to grasp him by said collar, he wouldn't fight it. Wouldn't argue or complain.

Regardless, he already knows by now that the other man will never do any such thing, that he isn't like that. That, somehow, he's different from the others positioned above him.

But there's the question to attend to, and again, Giovanni frowns.]

It's...hard to explain. Sometimes it's as though I hear another voice inside me. But...that's not quite right, either. Not a voice, more the idea of one, something vague but nonetheless there. And it urges me to let go of myself, to hit the switch, so to speak. To let the impulses in me have free reign. It's not always discernible, and even when it is I largely ignore it.

[A pause then, just the length of a heartbeat.]

But this time, I didn't.

[ There's comprehension in his eyes now, grey and subtly flecked with gold, though he does not speak of it. Often he did comprehend the idea of giving in to this sort of insanity - even if his mother did intend him to have the same purpose, it hasn't consumed it yet. Instead, the madness would have come after his death - or rather, the death of his sanity, and then its rebirth into something incomprehensible. ]

Do you know where the voice comes from?

[ This he says after a pause, voice not betraying any hint of judgment. ]

[Slowly, thoughtfully, he shakes his head.]

The Spine, perhaps? Or maybe it's just some facet of myself. I'm really not sure, but-- it's something inherent in all of us, I think. The Dogs. I know that...

[A brief hesitation then, something almost like hurt surfacing in his face before it's pushed back again.]

...67 would talk about it, sometimes. Before she lost control of herself. Before they put her down.

[ So it is as he had guessed, a conditioned compulsion. Something similar to his, but not quite, much less in expressive intensity. His was latent, had become latent by force of his pure will, a will that was forged with the fire of pain and the will that he believed to be holding his own demise back.

Giovanni had not been so lucky. He had already broken. ]

I see...

[ For something so ingrained, it seems impossible to remove. ]

What does the switch do then, precisely? Do you know?

[And Giovanni, he's been broken for the longest, longest time. Perhaps beyond repair and yet this latest development in him, the alarming lack of control he'd experienced during the riots, the falling away of his already precarious sense of self into an incarnation of pure violence-- he won't let it happen again, if he can help it. Can't afford to, when Sui Feng has already made it clear that should he do that, she'll end him with her own hands.

In some ways, perversely, it's a sentiment he can appreciate.

Slowly, he takes a breath.]

Something metaphorical, I think? The breaking away of all restraint and just giving in to the violence at the centre of myself. At least, it's how it felt. When it happened, I couldn't think, I was barely there anymore. When I look back on the riots now, after the point where it happened, it's all stained red, all snapshots of disconnected images that barely make any sense. As though something else had control of my body, in a sense.

[A pause, and then more quietly--]

I don't want that. I don't want it to happen again.

[ This is very much out of his league, and he knows it. It could have been some sort of neurological alteration, or just something in his mind - if it's the former, then he can't do much about it. But if it's the later, then there may be a chance. Definitely not reversal, but mitigation. Some of his own thoughts, the ways in which he tempers his own emotions to extents not expected by most people. ]

Would it help if we changed the switch, then? Not what's in it, engineering-wise. Change what it means, on a metaphorical level.

[ He hasn't moved, not sure if it would be polite. But these are ideas that he's willing to help with. ]

I don't have any answers, Sir. But I am, of course, willing to follow your direction.

[He's not quite sure he fully grasps Julius' meaning, but at the very least he knows he's willing to try. To do whatever it takes to ensure it never happens again.

What he wants for himself, on a conscious level, it's really a simple thing. To be the best tool he can possibly be, to make his masters proud. That there are other, more convoluted, desires in him beyond all that doesn't matter in this moment. He'll do what he can to ensure that he's a usable weapon, and if Julius has even an experimental idea, he'll submit to it willingly.]

[ Much of his hesitation comes from his own uncertainty of a topic he's only dealt with using repression. It would be useless to expect a broken person to try to use that, so they need a different way. ]

Can I look at it?

[ He takes a few steps forward, hovering at an arm's length away. ]

Oh. The collar?

[He looks up at Julius, then. Nods, only a little tentative.]

If you like.

[A semicircle of metal bolted down cruelly through flesh and muscle into bone, the skin around it badly scarred from the implantation process, one of the few bodily markings that refuses to heal, done as it was before his autonomic regeneration came 'online', so to speak. On the back, he'll find the number '68' etched into it, but other than that there is no sign of it's function, what the collar really means.]

[ It's more familiar than Giovanni might think - the armlet welded into Julius' right arm, perhaps implanted at an age latter than the other's, with less deformation and more of practical function both as a cause and as a desperate solution. ]

Does it hurt you?

[ His armlet weighs on him, but not much. It could possibly be ripped off him, if someone tried very hard. ]

[Whereas Giovanni's collar has been a part of him for as long as he's been conscious, something he never remembers being without. And yet--]

Yes, it hurts. All the time. But I'm accustomed to it. Most of the time, I barely notice.

[Impossible to remove without killing him, however. Given that it is, in actuality, a part of the Spine.]

[ There's a slight narrowing of Julius' eyes at this point, both in sympathy and in understanding - but his own pain stemmed from something entirely biological, not modified with bolts and metal. So he still had some measure of willpower, which could potentially be amplified on.

A symbol that contrasted the collar. ]

I... have an idea. I will be back shortly.

[ He takes his leave again, this time a longer period, returning with something on a small chain in his hands. A small piece of rose quartz held in a vicegrip by a steel setting - strong enough to stand wear and tear, and cheap enough to lose. Except it wasn't intended to be lost. ]

What do you think of this?

[ It's a vague question, but - does he dislike it? ]

[Julius leaves, and within that time Giovanni finishes the tea he'd been given, places the flask down on the immaculate white floor of the small cell that stands in for his Leithian accommodations. There's time enough, just, for the convolution of feelings to begin to rise up in him, the sick twist of them setting in, his own concerns over his recent break with control like small points of pain beneath the skin.

How close Sui Feng had been to putting him down.

But then the door to the room reopens with a hushed swish of air, Julius re-entering behind it, and his Handler's presence gives him something to anchor himself against, a small sense of stability amid the bleak emotions still sparking in him, threatening to ignite. He holds out the chain with it's attached piece of quartz, and Giovanni regards it with head slightly tilted. Confused, but considering.]

It's a necklace.

[A vague answer to a vague question-- but he doesn't dislike it. The quartz is attractive, its colour calming.]

[ The quartz is polished but only to a slight shine, what had caught his attention in the first place. It's pretty, but not flashily so, subdued in its colour and lustre. Something... calming, perhaps. ]

I can shorten the chain, if you'd like.

[ The bauble is offered, not just for inspection, but for the taking. ]

Keep it. If you can associate this with being in control, perhaps - then when you feel the urge coming upon you, you can look at it and remember.

[ Something grounding. ]

Whatever you think is best.

[He extends a hand to take it then, the feel of it cool and solid at the centre of his palm. He looks down at it, turns it over slowly, and the fact is - for the moment - he remains dubious. Such a small thing, a trinket-- how something like this will help him withstand the torrent of unsteady feeling that had crashed over him and washed his ability to reason clean away is beyond his understanding, seems an impossibility.

Though later, there will be this memory to look back on, this moment of calm following the storm, the familiar space and the warming tea and Julius talking with him in cool quiet tones, how grounded it makes him feel.

And there's room for potential, in that.]

[ It's something that might be seen as an annoyance by others, the way Giovanni is so submissive - but that's just how he was. The nature that was drilled into him, something not of his hands. ]

I can make you more tea, if you need in the future. You need only ask.

[ The flask being emptied, he collects it without a word. ]

I will also speak to our superiors later. You need a rest.

[ If he cannot grasp it with his own hands, then Julius will help him do it. ]

[And there's truth in that-- it's the way he's conditioned to behave when in the presence of those placed above him, conditioning only exacerbated by his monumental failure, how close he's just come to being eliminated. Something that seems impossible to shake loose of, even if he wanted to, and the fact is, he doesn't want to-- can't imagine any other kind of existence. Not for something like him.

And so he just nods, closes his hand around the pendant.]

I'll bear that in mind.

[And he'll take Julius' pronouncement as both command yet consideration. There's a finality in the words 'you need to rest' that make it seem like more than a suggestion, but that in itself takes some of the onus off him, makes it seem more permissible if it's coming from someone of higher rank. Clearing it with their superiors leaves his schedule empty and undisturbed and removes the edge of expectation, the need to be ready should he be assigned elsewhere at short notice. And so he nods again, just once, accepting.]

Yes, Sir. It's appreciated.

[ There is always a difference between something forced upon another and something instigated by their own hands. ]

I will see you hence, then. Take care.

[ Nothing more left to be said, he takes his leave. ]

[And Giovanni, once alone, will do as is expected of him, now that expectation plays a certain role, the stability of permission given. He'll tuck the pendant into a pocket of the fresh uniform they'd given him on arrival at the barracks, and without further hesitation or uncertainty, he'll lie down on the narrow bed.

It's both surprising and inevitable, then, that exhausted sleep finds him quickly.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Closed] Who was broken by trained personnel

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject