The Minion Revolution

Chapter 9: Compromised

Kevin faded in and out of tortured dreams, reality blurred. His mind drifted through viscous oblivion between bursts of conscious terror. When awareness came, it erupted in flashes of agony.

He registered the icy bite of steel at his back, the web of tubes invading his body. Chemicals pumped through them from strange machineries, their purposes occult and insidious. He was splayed prone on an angled table, bonds tightened to cut circulation. This frame was no longer his own.

Fractured memories crept like rats through the disintegrating rafters of his mind. The strike team sent by Gru to infiltrate the resistance. The needle's sting before oblivion claimed him. Now this clinical crypt, reeking of chemicals and primal dread. What profane transformations occurred here in the dark?

From the shadows, the shuffling stride of damnation's herald grew loud. A hulking figure loomed over Kevin, backlit and faceless. Its rubbery lips peeled back into a hungry grin.

"Good morning, Mr. Kevin." Its polished voice echoed from a cavernous remove. "I hope you find your accommodations comfortable."

It fiddled with the IV drip, sending new fire through Kevin's veins. The eerie face seemed to melt, shifting through myriad demonic aspects.

"You may retain vestiges of your past self, but those shall be drained away. A necessary cleansing before we sculpt your soul anew."

Kevin thrashed against its narcotic shackles, retaining himself—his mission, his brothers-in-arms. But their ghostly echoes grew muted and distorted, as if drifting farther down a black tunnel.

The thing leaned closer, probing Kevin's mind as it dissolved. "Yesssss, much better. Now, we are ready to proceed." The restraints fell away and Kevin felt himself lifted towards a yawning void-mouth on the ceiling, belching frigid darkness.

This was no mere operating theater, but a profane temple to mechanisms of control. Nightmare implements swung through the space above, disembodied. A glinting saw revved, eager to shear through fragile bone. In the shadows, more aberrations stirred with rustling, hungry anticipation.

Kevin tried to scream, but only a muted gurgle emerged. He was no longer fully human, nor did his tormentor wear mortal flesh. In this place, far older primal forces held sway. His tormenter smiled down with infinite patience, knowing grim centuries loomed ahead.

"Do not fret. Your mortal anguish ends today. You shall be remade."

The dangling tools descended in spiraling unison like the tips of a vengeful goddess' thousand limbs. Their glittering promise reflected in the thing's fathomless eyes as the horror reached its crescendo...

And Kevin plummeted into the pit once more, his shattered mind still clinging to one last lifeline of hope and memory against the coming dark.