#operation valkyrie

【520】Mitgefangen, mitgehangen

Ein Hochzeitskarmen ist mein Lied

Das bessere, das neue!

In meiner Seele gehen auf

Die Sterne der höchsten Weihe

MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

MORE INTENSE AND GORY LAB WHUMP LET'S GO

CWs: female whumpee (not sexual), female whumper, dehumanisation, vivisection, human experimentation/lab rat, mild gore, noncon surgery, syringes/needles, sedation, noncon drugging, IV bag, Central Venous Line

Valkyrie was taken to a new cell, after they took various more blood and other samples from her. In this new cell, the wall that faced the hallway was made of a see-through, bullet-proof material. She was told this by the guards, who grinned viciously as they locked the door behind them. She sank down to the floor, and pressed her palms against the glass-like wall. She could see her reflection, and it was not a pretty sight. Her face was pale and gaunt, and her eyes looked sunken, with deep dark circles beneath them. Her once golden hair was dull and greasy, and it hang in limp strands and braids around her face. Bloodstains, cuts and scratches marked her face. She looked like something out of a horror movie. But to her relief, there was a shower in this cell, and a clean white hospital gown.  She was about to get to cleaning herself off, when she noticed movement in a cell across the hall. 

Another subject, on their knees, with their face pressed against the wall. Their warm undertone face was pale from exhaustion and fear, and they had a shaved head, though a few dark curls were starting to grow back. Their mono-lid eyes were a beautiful dark brown that mesmerised Valkyrie. She waved at them across the hall, and they slowly turned their head, and waved back.

:readmore

“Hi.” She called out.

“Sh..” They murmured, holding a finger to their pale, chapped lips.

“Sorry. My name is Valkyrie. What’s yours?” 

“0399.” The other subject replied in an American accent. "I like your accent. British right?"

“Yeah, I was born and raised in England and moved to America wh..." Valkyrie trailed off. "But that’s not a name. That’s a number.” She frowned.

“We are only numbers here. We belong to them now.”

“No, fuck that. I can’t stop them, but that doesn’t mean I have to like how they treat me.”

“What you want doesn’t matter anymore. What you like. How you feel. If you want your suffering to be mininal, you do as they say. Obey them. Or they’ll make you regret it.” 

Valkyrie’s stomach twisted. “But we’re human beings.”

“That was no longer true the moment we stepped foot in this place.” Subject 0399 replied.

“I refuse to believe that. This is definitely illegal, and like, in the Constitution or Human Rights Declaration or something. There’s no way they can get away with this.”

“They already have gotten away with it.” 

“Fuck this. I’m getting out. If you’ve got any shred of common sense left, you’ll come with me.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” Then, the other subject fell silent.

Valkyrie turned her back, shaking her head. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the small shower cubicle, letting the hot water run over her skin. It stung her cuts, but she didn’t care. It felt like heaven to finally scrub off the layers of dirt. She carefully washed her body and hair, avoiding the device in her neck. She grabbed the tower from the shelf, and then dryed herself off, reluctantly slipping in to the hospital gown. 

She was about to flop onto thd bed, when she suddenly heard 0399 speak again.

“You’ll learn soon enough. No one’s coming to help us.”

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Valkyrie was subject to many more experiments as the days went on, and slowly every moment began to blur together. It was just a wash of pain and exhaustion and building frustration. They took increasingly large amounts of her blood through the Central Venous Line: the small implanted device in her neck. She was positive that the blood loss wasn’t helping with the exhaustion.  She was beginning to waste away now from the lack of food, blood, and exercise. Each day, as she looked in the mirror, she began to recognise the face that stared back at her less and less. She tried to hold onto hope, memorising each hallway and what lay behind each door. Looking for a new chance to escape at every turn. If she could find that chance, then she might just be able to find a way out. But on the outside, she made it look as though she had given in. She reluctantly allowed them to proke and prod to their hearts’ content. She didn’t fight back any longer. But that determination to act compliant was challenged the next time they came to drag her from her cell. 

The door in the glass wall slid open, allowing the two guards to enter the room, wheeling a gurney between them. They placed the gurney in the centre of the room, and the door slid shut. They gestured towards the gurney, and Valkyrie obediently lay on top of it. The magnetic restraints activated, and the remaining strap restraints held the rest of her body down. They wheeled her out of the room and down the hall. She lay still as they rolled her along, her gaze darting furtively from side to side to examine the layout of the building. She suspected they were taking her to another series of blood tests, but she realised she was wrong when they arrived in front of a door that read ‘Operating Theatre 10’.

She swallowed her protests. She could behave. She was wheeled into the  bustling theatre, where Doctor Clarke and the other scientists were putting on gowns, gloves and masks. Valkyrie was lifted off the gurney and onto the illuminated operating table, where she was restrained once more.  Doctor Clarke seemed particularly frantic. One scientist began attaching Valkyrie’s Central Venous Line to various tubes and bags of fluid. Doctor Clarke watched him like a hawk, harrying him all the while about being quick and precise. 

“This has to go perfectly!” She snapped at him when he accidentally elbowed another scientist in his frenzy.

“Y- yes, Doctor Clarke.” He trembled as he spoke.

“We have lots to do today and the Director will be here any minute. Hurry!” Doctor Clarke snapped. 

Director? Valkyrie wondered. The Director of the Facility?

A scientist rushed out of the room, then reappeared in a small adjoining room with a window in the wall of the operating theatre that Valkyrie hadn’t even noticed. She could see the scientist go to the door of the small room and hold it open so that a tall woman could enter. She strode in tall red stilettos to the viewing window, clad in a beautiful black and white striped jumpsuit. Her long black hair was pulled into a flawlessly smooth bun which accentuated her sharp cheekbones. Her stunning makeup was finished off with a bright red lip. She looked straight out of a Vogue magazine. Hardly the kind of person you would expect to see in a laboratory. 

The scientist in the viewing room pressed a button on the table and spoke into the microphone which allowed them to be heard from the operating theatre. “Doctor Cheronobog would now like you to begin.”

“Alright. Proceed.” Doctor Clarke proclaimed. 

The scientists rushed to dim the large lights so that the few sources of light were the surgery-grade lights and from the surgery equipment. Valkyrie watched in increasing anxiety as the scientists began laying out blue surgical drapes across her body. She lay flat, staring at the ceiling, attempting to see past her narrow field of vision that she could thank the restraint around her neck for.

Her heart thump, thump, THUMPed in her chest. Her stomach flipped over and over again. 

“Begin the procedure.”

The scientists leaned in close, wearing their large magnififying glasses that made them look like predatory bugs ready to feast on their prey. They hungrily dove into their meal. 

She saw the glint of the scalpel, and she panicked. Thrashing against her restraints, she let out a terrified, animalistic scream.  “STOP!”

“SHUT IT UP!”

There was a sharp prick in her thigh. She looked up to see Doctor Clarke emptying a syringe into her muscle.

“No…” She gasped.

Her limbs fell slack as the syringe was withdrawn. Everything ached, like she’d just run a marathon. Her body slumped back into the restraints without her permission. There was no chance of escape. As she lay flat on the operating table, unable to move, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Valkyrie, at first, only saw the blood as the scalpel touched her skin, then was dragged across her bare flesh. That was when she felt the pain; as the beads of blood began to bubble to the surface. As the scientists pried open the flaps of flesh and pinned them open to reveal her organs. She wanted to scream. She was able to let out a low grunt of pain, but that was all she could express. Her brain was still processing. It was sensory overload, and not being able to move away made it all the more terrifying. 

Excruciating pain. Pure terror. Hopelessness. Hot pain. Cold scalpel. Cold metal table. Tingling alcohol wipes. Sharp needle jabs. Tiny tubes. Her stomach flipped again. There was more blood. It drenched the surgical drapes. Medical tongs holding sponges and bandages dabbed at the blood to soak it up. A second line of fire spread across her body as they made another incision. Headache. Was that her screaming? Or someone else? Doctor Clarke’s mouth was moving under her mask. No sound. Sharp pinch. Blood boiling to the surface. Organs. Naseua. Why was the room fogging up? Oh. Oxygen mask. Flames. Cold flames. Smell of cleaning products. Laughing. Who was laughing? More blood. Then darkness.

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When Valkyrie opened her eyes, all she felt was pain. She propped up with a pillow underneath her. She was pinned in place. She looked down at herself to see bandages soaked with blood, tubes in her arms and neck. She was back in the cell with the large glass wall. Likely not real glass - it would be too easy for her to escape, then. She tried to lift her head, and found herself still frozen in place. She wouldn’t be able to escape in this state, even if she wanted to. 

Given the atrocities she had just undergone, she wanted to, all right. She was done obeying commands, done letting them torture her.  It was time to fight back.

She would just have to wait for the opportunity to arise.

~~~

PART 6 (coming soon)

Taglist:

20. Juli 1944: Operation Walküre