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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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.]

[That was true. Ivan looked down at the eye in silent contemplation.]

I have an idea, Zhenya.

[He smiled coldly, waiting for Volgin to finish with his demonstration before stepping forward and pressing the eye back into a socket.]

Here, Snake, you can have this one back.

Edited 2011-01-22 14:46 (UTC)

[Solid screams in agony as electricity courses through him, body jerking helplessly.]

[He barely has time to draw a breath before the eye is forced back into its socket, making the sensitive tissues burn worse.]

How merciful of you.

[A cold sneer as the giant finally released the blinded man, turning his full attention towards Raikov, no doubt delightfully tickled by "kindness" of his lover.]

Now, humor me, dearest Ivan... [A low, ominous purr.] What is on your mind?

[Ivan stepped back to assure himself Snake wouldn't be able to, by some amazing grace, grab onto his ankle.

As Yevgeny spoke to him he looked up to him, straight-backed listening. Respectful. His voice was coldly diligent, but his eyes couldn't follow the act.]

This Yankee scum's crimes against us.

[The man drops heavily to the floor and curls on his side, body trembling uncontrollably from pain. All he can do is lay there, gasping for air in between choked, involuntary sobs.]

[Volgin noticed Raikov's eyes. It was hard to, over the beauty of those cries, the harmony of this bastard's every whimper of deserved misery, but he did.

He had grown more careful since the last time, but he continued:]

Then... How else should he properly pay for the mistake of being alive?

[Ivan closed the distance between them again, his arms wrapping around Yevgeny's waist. A smirk, tiny but there nonetheless.]

Electrocute him.

[The words sound abnormally loud in his mind.]

[Solid struggles to speak, to say something. He refuses to die like this.]

...not...Snake...

[Electricity crackled. A cheerful smirk.

Volgin looked too happy with the prospect cooking the blinded man, to once again help himself to the smell of burned flesh. He might have licked his lips, once again the tiger with the bloody meat in its pen.

But, a pause. He did enjoy being teased, as it were.]

What was that?

[There was a foot on his hand. Even in casual, Volgin still had his jackboots. The heel threatened to crush his fingers.]

[No, no, not his hand, too.]

...s-son...

[Ivan looked down at the beaten man, his eyes narrowed.]

Son...?

[Volgin glanced over at his lover (or the incarnation of his lover he seemed to come back to out of familiarity), raising a brow.]

Interesting.

Ivan, this might be another spawn of the American dog he talked about. [~~As one of the puppeteers guessed the Liquid convo took place before this.~~]

I should have looked at his eyes before I took them out.

[Crunch. Maybe there was something familiar in Volgin's current victim's voice, yet a differentiating note, but almost half a century in death smoothed his memory.

What were a few broken fingers to get his throat going?]

AAGH!

[The shout of pain and helpless frustration rips from Solid's throat. He writhes in pain, his shot arm feebly reaching out as if to push Volgin's boot off of his now mangled hand.]

So it's not him?

[Frustrated. Annoyed their acts of revenge were falling short of their true potential. Then again this could be a useful turn of events--torture Naked Snake emotionally first.]

I remember hearing about something like this before...[He rubs his forehead with his fingertips, thinking.]

Liquid Snake? That's the blonde one. This one is...huh...

Filth.

[Feeble indeed. The boot remained on that hand, immovable. The giant only felt a delighted trill flutter along his nerves. So beautiful, and bleeding!]

I want to kill him... But then, I'd like to leave the father a proper warning for ... so callously breeding and not watching out for his brood.

Besides, a soldier is useless without his eyes. He can't do anything now.

[A chuckle.]

I could suffer him to live a little longer.

What do you think, Vanya?

Hmm... [He smiled, eyes narrowed. Malice.]

Leave him. I'm sure the weight of what he's become will hurt more than anything else we could do to him.

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BIG SWEATY GYM TIMES/TORTURE

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Should there be a rescue or is he going to be left somewhere?

/will let Dee decide

/DUN DUN DUN i mean

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