Life Under Control

NOTE: ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18.

P.S.

This chapter may be a long one, so get ready for the drama!

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EMETOPHOBIC REFERENCES, DEHUMANISATION, AND DEPICTIONS OF TORTURE THAT MAY BE DISTRESSING TO SOME READERS.

Trees stretched their branches over a dark silhouette as if trying to grab at it. They bent and snapped with the cold breeze that whistled softly through the icy air. A singular, bland, sad shade of grey blanketed the canopy of the trees as it watched over the terrain mournfully.

The silhouette, that was a mere speck of dust among the trees surrounding them, stood still as a statue, evaluating their surroundings. They could see cloudy puffs of their own breath float out in front of them as they exhaled. That was all they could do. They could only look around at their damp surroundings as they remained rooted in place, their limbs held up by psychological strings as if they were a marionette. Their breath quickened, releasing more cloudy puffs in front of them and clouding their vision as they felt the trees around them begin to grip their limbs.

The trees' branches began pulling at the silhouette in a forceful game of tug-of-war.

The silhouette felt the cold touch of the trees' branches pulling them from side to side, trying to break the grip that the psychological strings had on the silhouette. Their nose stung as the scent of antiseptic stuffed itself into their nose. They coughed. Their throat burned and the back of their neck stung like it had been stabbed. White noise rang through their ears. They tried to scream but their vocal chords refused to emit any sound.

Suddenly, without warning, a high-pitched, distorted voice cut through the white noise ringing in the silhouette's ears.

"D..."

The trees retracted their branches from the silhouette.

The silhouette felt the inside of their throat open up to let sound out.

"W-What?" They asked in a hoarse voice. The tone of their voice made it sound like they hadn't spoken for days.

"D..." Came the distorted voice that rang through the air once again. "D-Do..."

The silhouette strained their ears to hear what the distorted voice was trying to say. To them, it sounded like they were trying to get a message across, but there mustn't have been any reception in the dark, gloomy forest.

"Do... You..." The distorted voice started again.

This silhouette sighed in frustration. They tried to move, but the psychological strings binding them restricted any movement.

"I can't hear you, damnit!" They yelled. "Speak up!"

The distorted voice crackled through the air again.

"Do you...s..."

There was a brief pause.

In this time, all the silhouette could hear was their own, harsh breathing and the whistling of the wind. Their vision was clouded by the puffs of breath they exhaled.

Then, without warning, the trees in the forest began to shift and mould into needles and scalpels, all surrounding the silhouette in the sharp, nightmarish, medical tools.

"Do you..." The distorted voice began again,

"ĐØ ¥ØỮ Ş€€?"

Shikyo's eyes snapped open. The familiar, cold, damp feeling under his skin sent goosebumps spiralling down all over his body, but was somehow comforting in comparison to the nightmare he had just experienced. His heart was pounding; his breathing was heavy and rapid. A subtle, unsettling hum droned in the back of his neck like a bee persistently buzzing at him.

Groaning, the thief pushed himself into an uncomfortable perch on the floor with shaky elbows. As he did, an electric jolt zapped him from the neck down. He reached a hand up to the back of his neck and brushed his fingers over the thin lump of stitched-up skin that situated itself there.

His eyes scanned over the dim area he was in. Familiar metal bars faced him, giving him a glimpse of a familiar, dim, blue light outside the confined space he was in.

"Bloody Hell," he hissed in a hoarse voice as he continued to massage his stitched-up wound.

His words stirred up a chuckle from a dark corner in the cell.

"You have a strange accent when you say that," Mateo cackled from the darkness. He slinked out of the shadows and shuffled over towards Shikyo until he was sitting beside the thief.

Shikyo sighed and placed both his hands in his lap as he shuffled his legs out in front of him and crossed them.

"No..." He began, but didn't continue as the words trapped themselves in his throat.

Ignoring Shikyo's little protest, Mateo chuckled and also crossed his legs. He gripped his calves as he leaned in towards Shikyo, grinning cheekily.

"So," he began, "how was your 'welcome gift'?"

"Mmmh," Shikyo began weakly. A humming still occupied the back of his neck.

"I'll take that as a 'good'?" Mateo asked. His smile widened almost criminally and his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His canary yellow tinted teeth glimmered like stars in the prison cell's darkness.

Shikyo fixed his gaze on Mateo as he reached a hand to the back of his neck again and pressed it against the pulsing area.

"It... No," he began awkwardly in a hoarse voice, "...I, uhh... It hurts..."

The thief winced and cleared his throat that felt drier than a desert.

"Don't tell me the transplant made you soup-brained!" Mateo cried in response to Shikyo's stammering. In spite of the feigned concern that laced his voice, his face remained fixed in a smile.

Shikyo groaned again.

"No, I swear it didn't... Everything just feels... Odd now that the surgery's over. Like... Everything feels stiff and unnatural, and there's this pulsating in my neck, and..."

His words trailed off, easily replaced by a small yelp as another shocking jolt of electricity zapped him down his spine.

"Fu...Aaaggh!" He cried as a second shock jolted down his nerves. Agonizingly, the thief collapsed down onto his side, breathing heavily enough to make the ground shake.

Funnily enough, the surface his cheek rested on was somewhat warm and comfortable, instead of icy and rough.

Maybe the floor just warmed up from being sat on, Shikyo thought as he struggled to regulate his breathing, his body still in shock. He whined under his breath and clenched his fists.

"Well, well, well," Mateo chuckled grimly. "That's just one of the effects of the chips."

The prisoner sighed. Singular popping sounds echoed loudly through the cell as he did what seemed to be cracking his knuckles.

Shikyo, still panting, closed his eyes and buried his face into the warm surface beneath him.

My own body is betraying me, he thought sorrowfully.

This isn't me anymore. I'm run by this device sewn into the back of my neck.

His stomach churned. It was sick. The whole prison was sick. Maybe Shikyo shouldn't have robbed Obelisk Financial Services in the first place...

"Hey," Mateo uttered softly. "It's okay."

He sounded strangely serious and comforting for someone who was such a tease.

"Y'know, I've seen other prisoners go through much worse."

Shikyo breathed in and out deeply, trying to get his breathing back into a smooth, flowing pattern again.

"Mhm?" He asked amidst his breathing exercises. "Like what?"

"Well," Mateo began, "I saw this one guy whose arm had twisted so far back they had no choice but to amputate it; it couldn't be fixed."

Shikyo shivered.

"I regret asking," he mumbled into the surface beneath his face.

"No need to worry. That was during the chip's beta testing phase, last year. I mean, ever since they fixed certain bugs and issues, nothing like that has ever happened to anyone else," Mateo stated matter-of-factly.

Shikyo couldn't see Mateo, but he could sense a smile forming on the latter's face. He knew Mateo would probably say something stupid. His nose nuzzled into the warmth beneath his face as he waited for Mateo to speak up again.

"Though," Mateo snickered, "the chip still makes some people piss themselves for the smallest of things."

Shikyo sighed.

Of course.

"That's...Terribly amusing," he mumbled sarcastically.

A small chuckle was heard from above him.

"I agree," Mateo said smugly.

Shikyo stretched his fingers and placed an arm over the exposed side of his face with a tired groan. The pulsing in his neck felt like a constant echo drifting painfully down his spine. He just wanted it to leave him alone.

Another chuckle rang through the air as Shikyo emitted his little whimper of pain and exhaustion.

"Getting comfortable there?" Mateo asked in a voice too sweet and mischievous for him, even.

"Mhmm," Shikyo muttered in response.

"It's strange how warm the ground has been since the chip implant... Maybe it's not such a bad thing after all...?" He asked in a hoarse, soft voice.

Mateo cackled with amusement, much to the annoyance of prisoners in cells nearby. They sighed, clicked their tongues and slammed their hands against their metal cell bars, discharging large CLANGS! throughout the prison hallway.

"Aww, that's not the floor, dumbass," came a softer admission from Mateo.

Shikyo felt a sense of confusion and dread take over him.

"Hm?" He asked.

"You're laying on my thigh."

Shit.

Shikyo jolted up from Mateo's lap in a panic and shuffled backwards, letting the chip in his neck zap him again.

"Shit!" He cried. "SHIT! I'm so sorr...OWWUAGH!"

The thief raised a hand to his head as he hunched forward in agony, squinting his eyes and clenching his teeth together.

The prisoners in the nearby cells banged on their cell bars again in annoyance and hissed under their breaths.

Mateo bit his lip, as if he had seen this too many times. He looked genuinely alarmed, but unsure of what to do. A small hitched breath escaped his lips, which slowly transfigured into a nervous chuckle.

"Careful," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, "we wouldn't want to short-circuit anything else upstairs!"

Shikyo, who was now hunched forward with one hand behind his neck and the other clutching his stomach, glared up at Mateo with an angry glint in his dark eyes.

Was that an insult!? How dare he insult me while I'm in this state!

"What the Hell. Did you. Just. Say to me!?" He snarled.

The thief snapped his arms out in front of him and lunged towards Mateo, ready to throw a punch...

...Then, ZAAPP!

Shikyo fell forward to the ground with an open mouth and drooled onto the ground, his eyes blank as the chip restrained his movement like psychological strings. He was stomach down with his arms and legs splayed out at his sides and his chin balanced on the ground. Saliva rained down his chin onto the ground as his muscles spasmed from the sudden limitation of his movement.

Mateo watched on in shock, his eyes wide and pupils shrunken. Not shock from the chip zapping Shikyo again, but the shock from the thought that Shikyo could have tried to attack him, although he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Are you..." He began, but his words lost themselves on his tongue and drained away like someone had pulled a plug on them.

Shikyo's eyes regained their movement and locked with Mateo's sharp gaze.

"Huggh," Shikyo grumbled. He stretched his fingers and tried to move his limbs. His tongue ran over his dry lips.

Painfully, he lifted a heavy arm off the floor and reached a hand to his chin, wiping the sticky, drying saliva off his skin. Every movement felt like a burden; his limbs were tingling from the shock. His body had betrayed him again.

All the while, Mateo was stunned, even a little afraid at Shikyo's sudden anger, and stammered out an apology. "Damn, buddy, chill out! I swear I wasn't trying to offend you... I was just trying to lighten the mood..."

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

Shikyo scowled and brought his second arm out towards his face as well. His shoulders automatically shrink down in a grimace at the pain of the movement. His pride and anger had overtaken him, not letting him accept Mateo's apology, but as he resigned to the pain the chip was causing him, he felt like he didn't have a choice.

He groaned.

"Fine. Just don't act like I'm some rusted machine."

Mateo snorted.

"You're not a 'rusted machine'," the prisoner chortled. "You're just pissed. And confused. I get it."

Shikyo raised his eyebrows.

He really understands? That's...Unexpected...

The thief scoffed and extended a hand out to Mateo. "Thanks, I guess," he huffed reluctantly. "Now, could you please help me up?"

Mateo also extended an arm out towards Shikyo and clasped the thief's held-out hand in his own. He pulled Shikyo's weak form off the ground, letting the thief sit beside him. They let go of each other's hands.

The two remained in a reluctant, awkward silence for a moment, letting the sounds of clanging metal, prisoner groans and the faint whirring of machinery fill their ears.

Mateo fidgeted with his fingers.

Shikyo rubbed the back of his neck.

Finally, seemingly out of boredom, Mateo stood up and fled into the shadows of the cell.

Typical, Shikyo thought. He exhaled sharply as he massaged the back of his neck. His body still tingled. An uncertainty tainted his mind as he wondered whether Mateo had slinked away forever or whether he would come back.

Finally, footsteps clinked across the cold cell floors as Mateo returned from the darkness, holding something in his hand. He perched down beside Shikyo again and plopped the thing he was holding in the latter's lap.

A fluffy piece of bread had landed in Shikyo's lap, much to his surprise. Tenderly, he picked it up and lifted it to his mouth, biting off a piece. It was velvety, yet stale in his mouth and wasn't very appetizing, although it was something to eat. Shikyo hadn't even realised how hungry he was until now, especially after the whole ordeal with the chip plant, and puking twice.

Even after the argument with Mateo, he was just grateful that his cellmate was kind enough to provide him with resources, despite their struggles.

"Bok-su," Doctor Choi addressed the prison guard. The scientist stood tall as she swept a mop over familiar, dark blue, marble floors. A black mask covered the lower half of her tanned face.

The surgery room stank of rotten food and blood.

A silhouetted figure stood in a shadowed corner of the dim, nauseating-smelling room.

Bok-su stood beside Doctor Choi with a bland, apathetic look on her face. Her hands rested by her sides and her hair was worn loose and neatly brushed behind her shoulders. Her red highlights shone purple among the surgery room's dim, blue lights.

She didn't respond to Doctor Choi, instead remaining still as a statue. It was out of respect. She did everything out of respect. During her time as a prison guard, she had always been taught to respect everyone above her. That included the scientists and Valentina.

Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she waited for Doctor Choi to speak.

Doctor Choi brushed the mop across the floor.

"God damnit, these floors are not easy to clean," the scientist hissed. "Screw that moron for spewing everywhere...!"

Bok-su cleared her throat.

Doctor Choi glanced up at the prison guard with dark eyes that held a frustrated glint. She mirrored Bok-su's throat-clearing and straightened her posture.

"Right," she said authoritatively. "You have your second patrol today to check on the well-being of the prisoners."

Of course, Bok-su thought. It was only typical for her to be assigned patrol several times a day.

She nodded, keeping her gaze on Doctor Choi respectfully.

Doctor Choi gave the mop another sweep against the floor again.

"But," she continued sternly, "you won't be going alone. You'll have Valentina with you."

Bok-su winced and gritted her teeth behind sealed lips.

Oh, Hell no, she thought.

Despite her contradictory thoughts, she nodded at Doctor Choi's request and kept a straight face.

As if on cue, Valentina melted out from the shadows in a dark corner of the surgery room.

"Well, hello Doctor," she greeted the scientist; although, her eyes darted over to Bok-su almost immediately.

"I assume that's my patrol partner?"

Doctor Choi nodded. Her arms swayed back and forth as she mopped the stained floor.

"You two be on your way," she dismissed the two without a second thought.

. . .

Bok-su's lips felt numb. A cold wind blew through the hallway as Bok-su and Valentina made their way over to the prison cells, with the latter walking in front and the former walking behind. A gruelling silence enveloped the two prison guards as they slowly, but surely, approached the prison cells.

The air burned with unspoken tension.

Valentina cracked her knuckles from behind Bok-su, causing the latter to wince as she walked.

"You've done your hair well this afternoon," Valentina purred lightly. "It looks very professional."

Bok-su let out no sound, keeping her gaze trained ahead of her as she walked. Talking, she feared, would give way for aggravation of uncomfortable situations. Silence was a shield.

"Although...."

Valentina stopped in her tracks behind Bok-su, forcing the latter to stop walking as well.

Bok-su broke into a cold sweat and clenched her fists by her sides so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She pursed her lips and swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Although what? What is it this time?

Valentina's heels clacked indifferently against the floor as she turned around to face Bok-su, sauntered closer to her and looked down her nose at the lower-ranked prison guard.

"....You forgot to fix your collar," she uttered. Imperturbably, she straightened Bok-su's collar, letting her eyes lock with the latter's sharp gaze. With a final tug on the dark blue fabric of Bok-su's collar, Valentina let her hands linger over the lower-ranked prison guard's shoulders for a few moments before lowering them back to her sides.

Bok-su's jaw clenched tightly - so tightly, it was almost painful. She could smell the flowery scent of Valentina's perfume. Its strength forced her to choke down the urge to cough and gag.

Valentina cleared her throat.

"Make sure to keep your uniform orderly."

She then swivelled around and began striding down the hall towards the prison cells once again.

Bok-su followed along, slightly more stiffly than before, her fists clenched tightly as if ready to punch someone at any given moment. Irritatedly, she cracked her neck while walking, keeping her gaze trained on the back of Valentina's head.

Occasionally during their walk, Valentina would look back at Bok-su and smile - a smile that wasn't taunting enough to be a form of mockery but also wasn't sweet enough to be perceived as kind. She didn't need to speak; that gesture already had Bok-su knowing she was monitored.

After a few moments, the silence that enveloped them was replaced by the faint clanging of metal. They had reached the next hallway. The hallway holding the prison cells.

Nevertheless, the pair continued their way through this hallway, observing every cell.

The hallway's dim, blue lights flickered constantly, posing a subtle eeriness in the atmosphere. The place smelled like rusting metal and rot.

One of the first cells that was approached by the prison guards on patrol held two familiar figures: one man that had gleaming, blue eyes and tanned skin with dark brown curls that sported blonde highlights, while the other had paler skin, black eyes and wavy, black hair fitted with white streaks. They both wore shaggy, ill-fitting, grey prison clothing.

The former was sitting calmly with his legs crossed while the latter was feasting on a piece of stale bread, also sitting.

Bok-su immediately recognised the two prisoners with the former as Mateo (whom she had spoken to before and known since his arrival at Ashmound), and the latter as Shikyo, the new prisoner.

"Y'know," Mateo mumbled to Shikyo, "it's kind of sad that we'll never know how long we've been sentenced here for."

Shikyo nodded in between chews and mumbled something along the lines of "yeah, we could die in here," with a mouth full of bread.

A small hum escaped Mateo's lips.

"If I die in here," he began, "tell them not to cremate me. I want to die reeking."

Shikyo lifted his head as he swallowed down a large chunk of bread.

"Too late," he challenged. "You already do."

Valentina stopped in her tracks outside the cell and smiled mockingly.

"Cute. I didn't know we harvested comedians here."

She scoffed and continued to walk on, beckoning for Bok-su to follow.

A subtle tang of empathy tugged at Bok-su's heartstrings, but a shadow of obedience clawed away at the empathy like a wild animal clawing at its next meal. With one last look at Mateo and Shikyo, the prison guard gritted her teeth and followed after Valentina.

Stop caring, she thought. There's nothing you can do. You're so stupid for caring-

"What's the matter?"

Bok-su's train of thought was immediately thrown of its tracks at the sound of Valentina's voice.

Her gaze shuffled to the ground as she continued to walk behind Valentina.

"You're not feeling for our prisoners, are you?" Valentina asked, not even granting Bok-su a single glance as she spoke.

"No ma'am," Bok-su uttered briskly, staring down at her moving feet.

The CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! of Valentina's heels overtook any other sounds in the hallways. All the prisoners in the cells they passed shrunk down or hid away in dark corners as the two prison guards passed by...

...Except for one, who remained visible, muttering to himself in an angered, spiteful tone. His face was scrunched up frustratedly and his thin arms were crossed. He had bronze skin, dyed, olive green curls that just brushed over his ears and gleaming, orange eyes. His shaggy, grey prisoner clothing was torn and wearing out.

Unfortunately, this prisoner had caught Valentina's eye.

The head prison guard strode over to the cell and gripped two of the cell bars tightly.

The prisoner inside met her gaze with no hesitation.

"Yes?" He asked in a rough, cocky voice.

Valentina twisted her lips up into a forced smile and tilted her head to the side.

"Well, good afternoon to you too," she remarked in a sugary tone.

The prisoner knitted his brows into a deep frown and sneered jarringly at Valentina.

"What do you want?"

Valentina's smile widened further towards her eyes, now looking even more forced than before.

"You should know it's rude to speak to authorities like that," she scolded the prisoner.

One of her hands extended out behind her, towards Bok-su.

Bok-su knew exactly what this meant. Fishing her hand into a pocket of her prison guard uniform, she locked her gaze on Valentina, as if knowing that this wasn't going to end well. She pulled the cold, metal keys out of her pocket and handed them to the head prison guard with a frown plastered on her face.

Valentina closed her hand around the keys and brought them into the keyhole beside the cell door. The metal bars that the cell door consisted of rattled as they were forced open by Valentina.

The head prison guard then forcefully wrapped her fingers around an arm of the prison guard that stood inside.

Her smile had left her face and was replaced with a sneer that matched the prisoner's.

She dropped the keys from her hand; the metal tool landed on the ground with a loud CLINK!

Bok-su shuffled over to the keys, crouched down and hastily picked them up, shoving them back in her pocket again, before shuffling away from Valentina for safety.

Valentina, meanwhile, had dragged the prisoner out of his cell with a grip on his arm that was so tight, his arm looked like it was about to burst open.

"Learn to respect your authorities!" The head prison guard yelled. She reached her free hand into the waistband of her pants and pulled out a stun baton - because, of course, that's where she kept it.

God, Bok-su thought, wincing. She keeps weaponry in her pants? How unhygienic.

Without any hesitation, Valentina slammed the taser into the prisoner's side, sending his muscles into pained spasms as electricity shot through his body.

"W-wait," the prisoner gasped, clutching his side once the taser was removed. "We can t-talk about this...."

He paused, his orange eyes scanning over Valentina.

"....Maybe, somewhere more private?"

Valentina twirled the shock baton in her hand, keeping the other wrapped tightly around the prisoner's arm. She then leaned in closer to the prisoner, curled her lips up into a smile, and muttered:

"I only like girls."

The prisoner's pupils shrank, his eyes widened and his mouth hung agape. Not because of Valentina's words, though; but because she had slammed him in the gut with the taser five times, holding the weapon at his body for around five seconds each time.

Then, the prisoner's body fell to the ground, convulsing violently, as Valentina let go of his arm.

Bok-su flinched from where she stood, but kept a stoic expression.

NOTE: Valentina doesn't take disobedience, she thought. Even the slightest infractions can lead to punishment, or even death.

Shikyo swallowed down the last chunk of bread to the sound of deep, male wails and screams. Shivers scuttled down his spine.

From beside him, Mateo sighed and stretched his arms. "Valentina's probably up to no good again," he uttered in a strained voice as he stretched.

"Mhm," Shikyo agreed calmly. "This place is messed up."

Mateo chuckled. His eyes locked with Shikyo's as he stared down at the thief with a wide grin.

"That's what you should expect here," he said, patting Shikyo softly on the back.

"Welcome to Ashmound, Shikyo."