fissionmailed | BIG SWEATY GYM TIMES/TORTURE

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BIG SWEATY GYM TIMES/TORTURE

[The Nexus gym is particularly loud and noisy today, as someone is in there barking orders like a standard drill sergeant, except the said orders are in Russian. The treadmill is rattling and rolling at a high speed, and there is the sound of feet clopping along on it in their frantic rhythm.

At the back corner upon entry, there is the large, imposing figure of Volgin, still quite large and still very imposing even in casual dress. He is currently overseeing the forced fitness regimen of one of the Raikovs he had come to grow some attachment to (as he is aware of clones in this place, but still grasping the concept). Fed up with this pattern of fattening Raikovs, the Soviet giant is determined to rectify the problem. Once a GRU colonel in charge of his own unit (in this Volgin's particular case), the proper care and maintenance of his men was a high priority and body shape was among those concerns.

No man looked like Volgin at his age without proper self-discipline! Like a good commanding officer, he feels it is his proper duty to keep his men in shape if they are so foolish as to let their discipline slip. There would be consequences.

Starting with this one.

Whenever Raikov's pace slackens, Volgin coolly holds a hand out, and a good electric probe to his asscheek helps him right back along. His face is locked for the time being into a stony indifference. No matter what sounds Raikov makes or how much he complains: There is a price to pay for letting such a beautiful body grow soft, and there will be correction.]

((OOC: Open post, anyone is free to walk in and interact in any way you see fit! Sometimes they're both there, sometimes Ivan is left there and Volgin is off doing something in another room. Pretty briefly, if he's out.))

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[Ivan doesn't understand the two-eyed reference--he came before Naked Snake had lost his. Nonetheless he wears a small, devilish smile. It would rival Volgin's if only it weren't on such a pretty face.]

I'll find something to do with them.

[He narrows his eyes at Solid now, gun steady.]

Stop squirming or I'll shoot.

Edited 2011-01-20 04:00 (UTC)

[Snake's resistance is countered by twitch of the giant's body, and the crackling burning and blind of the electric shock that followed.

Drinking in that beautiful scent, the thrill of domination, Volgin's voice drops to a cruel purr:]

Ivan, do you have a knife? I could do this with my fingers, but a knife would be... quite neater than these, yes?

[He wiggles the thick, gloved fingers of his free hand, for emphasis.]

[His muscles jerk and a low, strangled scream of pain is forced from Solid's throat. The bullet lodged in his arm attracts the currant and magnifies it, burning the tendons and flesh surrounding it.]

[Stunned, he goes limp in the man's grip. His ears are ringing too loudly for him to properly hear what Volgin is saying.]

[There's that smile again, a sweet little devil.]

Of course, Yevgeny.

[He walked back to his bag, procuring a stunknife. Knowing of the dangerous it held for the Colonel he made sure to point them out before handing it over.]

Yevgeny, look here.

[He spoke quietly, flipping the knife over so he held the blade in his hand allowing him to easily point out the button on the handle.]

It's electrically charged when you hit this button, so be careful.

[Not-so-found memories of killing an alternate of his lover sprung up with it.]

[Volgin was fortunately enough in the bulk department to be able to handle a captive in one arm, freeing his other to be educated in the ways of this ... electrical knife.

He took it. Eyed it. Tested this electrical feature curiously. Let it buzz dangerously. Turned it off.

Interesting.

Without further warning, the electrically-ravaged Snake was harshly slammed into a wall to his back. An arm pressed into his throat.

The blade hovered dangerously before one of his eyes.]

Which one we should start with, Ivan? The left or the right?

Guh!

[Desperate, Solid tries to force his abused body to respond and fight back, but to no avail. Sick helplessness coils in his stomach as he hangs, the knife growing large in his vision.]

[He focuses on Volgin's face, glaring at him balefully.]

B-Bastard...

[Ivan was close; he ran a hand over Solid's toned stomach beneath his clothes. A shame really, he was born on the wrong side of this Cold War. If only he had been one of their comrades...]

Right.

[He said it firmly, retracting his hand and smiling. He took a small step back to get full view of the show.

Torture was not something he saw so often anymore. A sickening display, but at the same time morbidly fascinating. Depending on the patron it could be quite erotic. His limits though, fell short of Yevgeny's. Ivan preferred to let them live unless they truly deserved death.

In this case, well.]

Edited 2011-01-22 02:42 (UTC)

[How cute. He was a bastard.

A cool tone:]

Right it is, then.

[The knife snapped to the right and held, a thread away from the sensitive surface of that beautiful eye. The tip tilted, practiced in the large hand, the wielder curling his lip in his sadistic delight as he drank in the other man's anxiety.

Wrong side of the Cold War, indeed.

A terrible shame.

But, only the beginning of a fate he deserved.

The arm around Snake adjusted, pressing against his body, but his hand was forcing the right eye wide open. He wanted it clean. Without further warning, only a toothy grin, the blade dug into the region where the pink tissue met with the white.

The knife sought to pop it out, pull it out enough to that it may sever all its muscular connections inside his face. Blood dulling its glint, in the end, it was a sloppy cut by an overeager man that enjoyed the process moreso than the result.

The eye's final muscle was cut free, and finding some purchase in the strands of attaching tissue of varying lengths, the older Soviet held the bloody organ up to his lover, beaming.]

What do you think, Ivan? [A warm, delighted purr.] It's yours now.

Edited 2011-01-22 03:16 (UTC)

[There isn't pain until a few seconds after the knife begins working its way into and around Solid's eye. Warm blood flows down his face, making his remaining eye burn.]

[His body moves instinctively to get away from the agony, writhing like an insect pinned and dying for a scientist's display.]

[The scream is caught in his throat as he feels the tugging of tendons and how the knife scrapes the inner cavity, sees the malicious grin on his tormentor's scarred face, and hears the wet sounds his eye makes as it is pulled from the socket.]

[Ivan had gazed at the scene, a sort of silent awe in his face as he watched. Disgusted, revolted, but intrigued and unable to look away; just as always. The blood running down his face was something of beauty, he thought.

He looked up at Volgin as that eye dangled in front of him like some perverse gift. Smiling he took it, observed it in his hands, shivers sent down his spine at the eerie slimy feeling.

His attention turned back to their captive. Bloody eye-socket. How much he probably wished they could put his eye back.]

Snake...do you want it back?

[He said it with mockingly. The eye dangled between two bloody fingertips in front of Snake's remaining eye.

After waiting for a reply he let it drop to the ground, and then promptly stepped on it.]

[The sound of the eye hiseyehiseyeohgodhiseye being crushed sent a shudder of revulsion through him. Solid's head lolls weakly in Volgin's grasp as he feels his body beginning to numb with shock.]

[Blood and tears mingle on his face, drawing a quiet groan from his roughened throat.]

[There was a low, powerful laugh, a cruel, mocking rumble. Volgin licked his partially marred lips, his eyes trailing from the mush that was once a soldier's most precious organ to the face and its bloody "tears". His single arm grip adjusted, electricity threatening to keep him in place if he dared struggle.

Snake more resembled a doll. Such a shame: A worthy opponent now a limp, little toy he could shake about.]

Oh Vanya, Vanya... You broke it.

[A coy tilt of his head.]

Am I going to have to get you another one?

[Volgin's tone sent a familiar wave of heat down him--more than anything they'd been doing thus-far. He steps closer, slowly pressing himself against the other man; a hand still covered it blood ran over his chest.

It was like the beginning of some grotesque pornography.]

I'll try not to break it this time, Zhenya~

[Body quaking in fear and anger, Solid puts all he has into a kick at Raikov.]

[nononononono-]

No-!

Hey! [Ivan pulled back, irritated. He punched Snake in the stomach.]

Yankee.

Idiot.

[The knife clattered to the floor, as Volgin could not say no to a chance at punching a man in the stomach like hanging meat. It was not clear who the older Soviet was insulting.

But, Volgin punched hard.]

That is how you punch a man, Vanya.

Watch this!

Ha!

[Another demonstration, this time a hook upwards along the stomach and towards the diaphragm.]

Gah!

[Raikov's strike had been painful enough with Solid's zapped muscles. Volgin's blow forced the air out of his lungs and left him struggling to get it back.]

[He was going to die like this, wasn't he? At the hands of the two brutal madmen. Sunshine better not get into any trouble from this...]

[Who was he kidding? Sunshine was going to be furious. He's going to get himself killed too, if Solid lies down and dies.]

[Ivan crossed his arms, looking at Volgin incredulously.]

I know how to punch a man, Zhenya. I am a Spetsnaz.

Your technique could use a little work, Vanya.

[Volgin adjusted his grip on his prey, giving it a look. It was not suggesting kinder things.

Such trembling, such gasping...! So much beauty in his misery.

He did not turn away from his study, making his request of Raikov:]

My knife.

...

[Pushing mild irritation aside for now, Ivan bent down and retrieved his knife, placing it in Volgin's waiting hand.]

[Solid's gym clothes are wet with sweat and blood, clinging to his bruised, beaten frame. He tries to turn his head, to hide his precious remaining eye, but the hand holding him is too strong for his spent muscles.]

[Unknowingly, a small whine escapes him as the smaller Russian retrieves the knife.]

[That whimper tied everything together, trilled so softly against Volgin's nerves, as his grip adjusted, his gloved hand pulling the remaining eye open. The knife hovered too long, tilting thoughtfully in its plan of attack.

Then, like the eye before it, the tip went for where the pink met white. It was a cleaner cut than the jabbing and prying and slicing of the first empty socket (Volgin had to take a moment to remember how the eye was situated in there). It did not make for a less harrowing experience, probing and forcing the organ out with little mercy. The blade pried about for its connectors, the sharpness quickly biting them free.

Soon, it was out, the marred face alight among the last things Snake could see before the nerve was severed.

His prize was offered to Raikov, dangling from his fingers on the lingering tissue as before.]

You better not break it so quickly this time, my Vanya.

[Ivan took the eye with satisfaction. That's what he gets for killing Yevgeny. But looking at those empty eyes, he felt some semblance of guilt, or maybe it was disgust at what they've done. What if it had been him? A soldier's eyes are his most important asset.

And then he shoved that feeling down with rancorous thoughts of this man. Dirty, Yankee scum. Deserves what he gets, deserves to die and burn in hell for ruining his life, his future prospects. For ruining Volgin.

Enough of that, he looked at the eye in his white palm, fluids oozing over into the creases of skin.]

It's not like he can see me do it this time, Zhenya.

[The future, if he went back home, would be so sad.]

[The choked screams fade slowly as Solshine's suffering form goes limp. He's not unconscious, but he might as well be.]

He can hear it, Vanya.

[Volgin then turned his attention back to his victim, tilting his head for a moment and narrowing his eyes in consideration.]

Dead? Ha! We're not done with you yet, scum.

[The knife was held away, maybe Solshine could feel it, but then came the barrage of electricity in that powerful, unyielding grip. Enough to to get him going again, to react.]

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