STRANGULATE | Markicest

43 | TICKING

It had only been minutes, but Mark's throat was already sore from screaming.

He couldn't keep his composure anymore—wasn't physically able to—the pain was so violent, so terrible—his body was growing weak and numb already—he couldn't last—wouldn't last—

He was human—too human—

A normal Evolved—no—not even a High Evolved would feel this terrible—would they?—

All the while, Antinstine watched Mark writhe and yell with utter fascination, never once looking bored. Just his presence made Mark's pain worse, increasing tenfold—it was humiliating—debasing—it wouldn't stop—

Minutes molded into thirty... forty...

Mark passed out at forty-one.

Antinstine ordered the scientists to wake him up; they tried stalling and acted like they were looking for another syringe... trying to give Mark's body just a few minutes to recover—but Antinstine was unrelenting. A savage, blood-thirsty animal with fangs dripping wet.

Antinstine retrieved the shot of adrenaline himself.

He straightened out Mark's arm, glaring at the scientists, forcing them to do as he said.

This same cycle happened three more times.

Ox would rush forward, insist on doing it himself—he'd stall; Antinstine would snap at him—

He'd inject the syringe into Mark's veins, and he'd wake up confused, dazed—and when he would see Antinstine, he'd return to reality.

The pain would come back in a drowning wave. His screams would paint the lab walls bloody.

The two hours were closing in now, and the scientists eyed the clock. While they looked relieved, Antinstine looked irritated. He didn't want the fun to be over.

The pain was beginning to fade, but it would attack at random intervals—strong, bright—like it was cutting straight through Mark's body.

He was reduced to tears and trembles, now, giving the occasional, spine-chilling cry. His wrists and ankles tugged at the binds, but the effort was weak... pathetic. Mark didn't have any energy left in him.

Antinstine smirked, resting his elbows on the table and leaning in close. His breath fanned over the side of Mark's face, and the human couldn't help but flinch, his body overstimulated, too sensitive—broken.

"I can take the pain away, Viper," breathed Antinstine, eyes half-lidded. His eyes glittered as he watched Mark struggle and strain to even hear him. "I can make it all go away."

Mark's lips trembled, his eyes struggling to focus. Everything was blurry, then clear, then blurry—his body couldn't function anymore.

"We are making history... with Syl and Ox... with you..."

Antinstine ran his fingers along Mark's arm, and he flinched and whimpered, trying to get away from the touch. His brain was on fire.

"If you join me, you'll be a part of my legacy." He leaned closer, examining every line and quiver of Mark's face. "You won't have to feel this anymore."

Mark breathed hard, screwing his eyes shut. His body screamed to accept the offer—anything—anything to take the pain away—but he had to keep to logic.

Logic kept him alive. It kept him sane.

But his mind was wearing thin—his body was tired, torn, numb—one more push—the chords holding himself together threatened to snap—