Blood Tied (Galtean Klance)

- EIGHTEEN -

Lance's POV

It was his third time being strapped onto the surgical table since Keith agreed to serve Melvark. It was his third time being dragged into the room since Melvark promised to not experiment on Lance. It was going to be his third time having the colourful injections. 

Melvark sauntered into the room, flaunting a surgical mask and white smock, making a mockery of Earthen procedures. 

"Hello there, Lance! How is my favourite patient doing?" Melvark smiled, sickly sweet. He sat down on a small green swivel chair and spun around twice. "I hope you're ready for another fun appointment!"

"You promised Keith that you wouldn't do any experiments -- what in the universe are you doing, going back on your word?!"

Melvark's eyebrows rose innocently. "Didn't you hear me? I said appointment, not experiment. I'm not experimenting on you; you're having an appointment with me!"

Lance's face flushed an angry red. "MELVARK YOU SICK---"

"La la la! I can't hear you!!" Melvark spun across the room on the chair.

Damn it! Keith revealed his Galran form, agreed to work for Melvark, and for what? That filthy, filthy liar!

"Going back on what I was saying earlier, we're having another fun appointment! This time we're going to try something a little different..." A syringe filled with neon blue was in Melvark's hand. "Don't worry, this shouldn't hurt you too badly." He waved his hand flippantly. "You know what they say on Earth; not painful, not worth it!"

"It's 'No pain, no gain', idiot." Lance muttered under his breath. 

Melvark rolled his chair back to the table. He spun a few more times while arranging screens and measuring equipment. 

Lance felt a sharp pinch on his left arm... and then there was fire. 

Fire and acid burning its way up his arm and across his chest. A painful stabbing in his right shoulder that spread numbness down to his wrist. It was a fire raging up his neck and chin, sizzling in the back of his eyes. 

Then relief, ice-cold water dripping from the roots of his hair. The flames behind his eyes faded, his chin and neck cooled, the fire in his left elbow petered out. The chill spread further down, prickling the tips of his toes. Lance let out a ragged breath.

Melvark, on the other hand, did not seem pleased by this. He threw the empty syringe at the wall, and it shattered. He slammed his fists down on the table, making Lance flinch.

"Quiznack...!" Melvark began to mutter as he rolled the chair around the room. "Levels unstable... yet... Quintessance... oh, and... yes, clearly... and then... not enough... yes, perhaps..." He looked up, a dark gleam in his eye. "...Sacrifices." Melvark yanked open a drawer, pulling out a mask and an assortment of tubes.

Now what is he doing? That almost looks like a gas mask without the goggles...

Melvark began to spin across the room, attaching tubes to hoses and pipes. He pulled out trays of equipment, and fiddled around with the screens.

When he finished, he rolled back to where Lance was lying. In his hand, Melvark held the mask. "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he said, lowering the mask onto Lance's face.

Lance's vision began to blur. The fading silhouette of the Galran Commander tilted his head to the side.

"No, I'm not sorry. Good night, Lance."