#volkov

Warning:

Descriptions of gore and body horror.

Fun times in Volkov's lab. Short story for Mayblade. Horror.

Experiment 056

It felt like his insides were dissolving. Filled tubes spilled out in coughing fits spluttering a dark green liquid onto the filthy floor. Chunks of flesh slipped there way through to meet the outside world and the last part of his conscious mind recoiled at the implication. It needed to stay in. He needed to stop his body from hollowing itself out in a mad flood of viscera.

A hand clamped on his mouth trying to dam himself up but the effort only succeeded in choking lungs desperate to empty themselves of viscous liquid. He felt a fountain pour over his hands from his nose and the water in his eyes turned acidic. Already blurry vision turning black as the sockets started to drool.

The screams his body tried to rench out of him drowned under the torrent. Every nerve set alight as he blindly clawed at his skin in an effort to feel anything else: it easily fell away under his nails leaving the feel of stringy sinew under his fingers. 

All sound was muffled under a cacophony of shrill ringing only to be released with a deafening pop. The sense vanished altogether.

The only sensation left was a writhing squirm along a hard surface as if salvation was only a short crawl away. Taste dropped from his mouth and slid under the tendons left clinging to the bones in his hand. 

Agony started to dull as the void crept up on him. Once a terrifying prospective nothingness became a call to home. The last ounce of life spasmed numbly before the little life returned to the darkness forever. Only a pool of melted fluids remained to soak into the ground. 

-

Experiment 056 - failure. 

Volkov gritted his teeth tightly trying to hold together the rage that threatened to tear him apart. He bore his glare into the backs of the clean up crew absently mopping and bagging the remains of his most recent failure. The subject itself was of no loss to him but the resources and time it took with it stung violently at his ego. He'd been at this for too long.

"Sir?"

He didn't bother acknowledging the tired voice behind him, or the gagged whimpering chirping out of the body held in the man's grasp. He ran a hand roughly through his hair trying to relieve himself of the frustration building in his gut. 

"Adjust the pH. Lower the dosage. See how long this one lasts," he said, passiveness strained by the long hours spent toiling over his work. 

The whimpering rose to a stifled shriek as the new subject was dragged forward to be placed in the vat. Volkov yawned deeply; he had no expectations of the success needed to relieve him of his shift. 

This part of the experiment was nothing but a chore in comparison to what he anticipated next. He needed it to be stable if he was going to start using the indispensable subjects. Then the fun could actually begin. 

Reclining into his chair, Volkov stretched out his tired limbs as he observed his subordinates shove the struggling mass into the chamber. His hand hovered over the button as he waited for the set up to be complete.