Hakai Akuma (Chainsaw Man x Male Reader)

Abara

POV-Third Person

     Blinding light. All that the retinas could see was light. Strapped to a table using layered leather and chains, arms spread horizontally like Christ on a crucifix. The blistering movable lights heating the flesh like an ant under a magnifying glass. Pulling against the straps and chains, no good. Too strong. This wasn't his first time beneath man's undivine artificial light; but he wanted it to be the last.

     Silhouettes emerged; each with surgical masks over their faces and zooming glasses over their eyes. They looked like inhuman creatures to the boy; with hands that exist only to carve flesh, tissue, and bone. Fingers that exist only to pull triggers. The light of the beams gleaming off the lenses of the glasses that each silhouette wore; their twisted smiles covered by their masks.

     Tightening the chains; making sure the boy couldn't struggle any further. The figure on the right drew a long-bladed scalpel. Electrical wiring hooked up to the base of it so that when activated, the blade glowed amber from the electrical heat; making cutting through the boy's tough reinforced flesh far easier. A tool made specifically for operating on him.

     The silhouette to the right spoke, it's voice calm and masculine.

     Right: Don't worry; this will be over soon. Be a good little subject.

     A silhouette on the left spoke; it's voice equally as calm but feminine.

     Left: Isn't this inefficient? He should be subdued with anesthesia.

     A third silhouette at the end of the operating table spoke; it's voice masculine but deep and raspy. This one had a more demanding tone to it.

     End: Absolutely not. The point of leaving him conscious is to test his live reaction to bodily trauma. Proceed.

     With that, the operation began. The superheated blade of the scalpel scalding the boys flesh as it cut through his body. The boy wanted to cry; but his tear glands were too dry from yesterday's surgery. Muscle tissue being unwoven, skin being sliced, organs being toyed with and modified...or new ones added altogether. The young boy could only twitch in pain; his restraints too tight to allow him to do much else. He uttered in fear, the only name that ever treated him well.

     (Y/n): Lucy...help me...where are you?

     Right: He's holding together well, the others have either died or had to be put on cryo for similar operations.

Left: He's the Magnum Opus for a reason.

End: He'll be the one to keep us on top of the world; the one to protect the Hegemony.

Poking and prodding; prodding and poking. Dismantling and building; building and dismantling. All for the dominance of the state. All for King and Country. It will all be worth it in the end; they'd utter in his ear.

As they continued to tear him apart. The only thing keeping his mind from succumbing; being memories of long flowing pink hair, fair light skin, and glowing crimson eyes.

Timeskip-Amount: Unknown

The young boy hung chained to the metal crucifix; his eyes cold and glazed over, bracing for what was to come. He was in a large, elongated room. One with concrete floors and walls covered by a layer of tiling. Gleaming lights shined down on him from the ceiling above, reflecting off the tiles. A large observation tower room watched down from above. At the end of the elongated room were large, thick plates of bulletproof glass that protected those on the other side. One way visibility; the boy couldn't see who was on the other side, but they could see him. It was a long firing range for testing prototypical weapons.