"Trial 3 complete."
We were only halfway through the experiments of today, and Quentin was already burnt out. There was a hole in his old suit, and there were spots where his skin had been singed, but no serious damage. Yet.
Thus far, we had been using the same level of power and differentiating the thicknesses of the vibranium. However, if we turned up the power, we could create a bit more damage.
Tony grabbed the weapon and winced.
"It shocked me, there must be a loose wire."
"What a shocking discovery Anthony." I said with a wink. Tony hated puns, but I thought they were alright, as long as they weren't overdone and overused. Then it was obnoxious.
As Tony sat down to fix the wire, I looked to Quentin. And boy was he a sorry sight.
His once very expensive looking and flamboyant suit was practically rags. His personal hygiene had gone out the window, and he smelled basically of a dumpster fire.
"Ahh, fixed it." Tony said. "Alright, let's get this up and running." We replaced the switch, and turned up the power ever so slightly.
This caused much more damage, it went right through the vibranium and onto Quentin. The pain he must be experiencing is immense. Any man would surely wish for death before being subjected to this weapon.
But its Quentin, and I don't think of him so much as a person as a special brand of crash test dummy. Emphasis on the dummy part of it.
After a few seconds of letting Quentin adjust to his new wounds, we replaced the vibranium sheet as always, but Tony's hand hesitated over the power valve.
"...What if we turn it up all the way?" I shrugged, even though I knew it would kill Quentin in a split second.
But like I said, crash test dummy. Quentin sputtered,
"That's insane! Turning it up all the way would kill me! Tony, please!"
Tony cocked his head, either in mock contemplation or real, I couldn't tell.
He lowered the weapon for a moment, looking into Quentins eyes. "Please." Quentin begged. And for a moment, I truly believed Tony would falter.
But he didn't.
He looked at me, then back to Quentin. He cleared his throat, then spoke.
"Beck, that's entirely the point." He aimed, and fired.
The flash of the weapon was much brighter than anticipated, so Tiny and I were both blinded for a moment. As we rubbed our eyes, we heard the dull thud of a dead body fall out of its restraints. Tony peered over his glasses.
"Oh dear, is he dead?"
