Loud Trickster In A Quiet World, A Loki x Deaf Reader

22.Mastermind

Panic.

Panic hit as you had your eyes peeled open, and some sort of drop were put in. It took a while before I regained control of just my eyes, and could keep them open myself.

I squinted as my vision cleared, spotting Deacon. Wait. Deacon? Why wasnt he helping you? You started to remember the moments before you were kidnapped, and squirmed in your restraints, trying to get free.

The rope scratched at your wrists, and wasn't getting looser. A different guy walked in, a malicious smirk on his face. He looked strangely familiar.

But why?

The man sat down infront of you, un-capped a whiteboard marker, and started writing. 'Can you see me? Blink twice for yes.'

You blinked twice, and he seemed delighted. He said something to Deacon, who stepped forwards, holding a cup now.

'open your mouth, and drink.' Deacon signed, holding the cup up to your lips.

Scared, terrified even, you opened your mouth, hoping that it was something that would put you out of your misery. Instead, it scratched at your throat, until you coughed up blood, it dripping down your mouth and chin, then into your lap.

The man smiled, writing something else down 'Talk?'

You slowly tried to force out sound, but nothing came out. The man slammed his whiteboard down, starting to shout something. Your body wanted to shrink back, to do anything to just dissapear into the chair, but alas, you didnt have that magic, and if you did, you were sure they would have found a way to restrict it.

They both left the room, and you finally got more of a chance to look around, though still limited to where you were facing. The floor tiles looked like the ones you saw in hospitals, and sometimes, schools. There was one light, and a bunch of machinery in the room, none of which looked pleasant.

Behind the machines, the walls looked as if they were covered in sound proof foam, all whites and some slightly greyed. A few of them behind the machines had splotches of red, and didn't look sanitary to say the least.

When the man returned, he still looked mad, and had another cup in his hand. He roughly forced your mouth open and poured the contents in, making you almost choke on it. You managed to read on his lips that he would be even more mad if you wasted it, so you forced it down, making the burning sensation return. You coughed up more blood, but you felt different.

You forced out a small bit of sound, and he started grinning like a mad man. Well, not that you didnt know that he was insane already.

The guy grabbed his marker and whiteboard, turning it to you 'Do you remember me? We've met plenty of times before.'

You squinted, desperately trying to search though your memories. You had tried to repress most of your childhood, due to its non-childhood like nature.

Slowly it started to click, and you stared at the man 'Oliver?' you tried to call out.

He nodded, and you swallowed hard. This was bad. Oliver was the protegee of the man who ran your 'program'. He had told you years ago that it wasn't by choice that he was working for them, mostly doing their dirty work, literally.

You'd seen him often cleaning up stuff, primarily blood, during your early years, and later observing the participants.

He seemed pleased by your recognition, practically grinning ear-to-ear.

You definitely should have had him put in jail for longer. Now he was out, and seemed to be either working, or in charge of some other program that didnt seem to be good.

Yeah, most places that kidnap people arent good places.

You zoned out of your sarcastic remarks, and back to reality as Deacon brought another glass of something, and walked twords you. If it was anything like the last one, you were going to hate it. Especially since you could now see there were syringes on the tray as well.

You desperately tried to get your body to move and push back into the chair, begging to him not to do anything, that you'd cooperate.

As Deacon started to inject the liquid in you, you tried to not look. Tried to ignore the pain that started to erupt in your muscles.

It felt like hell just got injected into your body. Everything hurt, you body was rapidly getting hotter, trying to kill whatever was put into you.

Both Deacon and Oliver both left, and left you to suffer by yourself. You managed to tilt your head back a bit, and saw a camera in the corner of the room. Fuck. They were probably watching you. Enjoying this.

You started to count the blinks of the red light on the camera, using it to help you keep track of time, and to focus on anything but the pain.

174 blinks. They returned after 174 blinks. Deacon had a tray again, with a glass of a clear liquid. It was safe to assume that nothing they gave you was safe.

Deacon pulled your head back, forcing you to drink whatever he had. It tasted bitter. That meant it was almost certainly poison.

'Strychnos nux-vomica.' Oliver wrote.

You had learned about it when you were younger. it was the plant that could be made into strychnine. They had some of us cultivate it for a while, mostly between assignments. It's odorless, and dissolves clear.

Oliver in particular had been developing a new variant of it. To make it more versatile.

You were so fucked if he made it successfully. You glared at him as your body started aching again, and he held a clipboard, smirking as he watched and took notes.