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Manticore · (This post was last modified: 10-02-2012, 07:31 AM by Manticore.)

ID: JAMES LAMBERT

Before the shock had worn off, Lambert was already in the tank, and it was too late. Before he'd been able to recover, the mech had set the cardamine canister down, and had come to drag him into the tank. He hadn't actively resisted, but then again he hadn't been of a mind to walk straight to his doom, either.

All the while, the second mech had busied itself with some large tubes, which he used to connect the cardamine to the glass tank.

Lambert knew only one thing could be coming, and his chest heaved with the desperate gasps of terror that consumed him. After he was dragged into the tank, the mech left the open hatch as it was, and Lambert managed to straighten himself. He was a tall man, and his head was less than an inch from the top of the tank. There were mere inches to either side, creating a very enclosed space that reminded him too much of a coffin.

Banshee stepped forward, a strange syringe now in her hands. It was filled with an odd greenish fluid. He raised his hands to ward her off, but she casually pushed his hand aside and sank the syringe into his side. There was a momentary prick of pain, and then numbness as the drug flowed into his body.

'This should take effect momentarily. Our friends at Cryer are to thank for this one, part of their failed research on a cure for cardamine. This drug merely enhances the effects of the drug. All of the effects.' She laughed like that had been the most hilarious thing in the universe.

The drug began to take hold, with a tingling sensation throughout his body and a spinning sensation in his head. Banshee stepped back and shut the tank's hatch herself. He noticed a small intercom unit set into the glass hatch, allowing him to hear and be heard through the tank.

Thus, he clearly heard Banshee's next words: 'And now, watch him disappear!'

A deluge of orange gas descended from the top of the tank, immolating him and blocking out any vision of the outside world. Lambert held his breath, eyes shut but still reddened and tear-streaked by their momentary exposure. He fell to his knees, forehead cracking against the front of the tank, as he struggled not to breath in the gas. Yet it was already doing its work as soon as it touched his skin and entered his nose and ears.

Finally, after long minutes that seemed like hours, he could hold on no longer, and succumbed to the inevitable. His lungs sucked in the poisoned air with an unconscious desperation, and he could taste the vile substance on his tongue and lips. As soon as it entered his lungs, his body was wracked with a fit of coughs that went on and on, as it desperately tried to expel the gas from his body.

Yet the drug already in his bloodstream had other intentions. Already it was at work, and Lambert's coughing began to subside as he felt a deep, euphoric sense of relaxation. Now he slumped backwards, back against the tank's rear, and slid into a relaxed sitting position. As he began to finally breathe deeply of the drugged air, the true effects of the combined assault on his body began to take hold.

Lambert began to feel much energized and actually... happy, for the first time in as long as he could remember. This overwhelming sense of joy caused him to leap to his feet and begin rocking back and forth onto his heels, all the while humming a song to himself. Yet the sense of euphoria did not stay at a constant level, for every breath he took propelled him to higher plateaus. Eventually he stopped moving intentionally, his body convulsing. His arms flailed about, smacking into the glass of the tank. Then, with a bit of drool emerging from the corner of his mouth, he collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.

His slumber was not restful, as the drugs induced a number of vivid visions. Everything moved very fast from his perspective, but the emotions attached to them were intense and not easily forgettable.

Darkness, and then a glowing pair of purple eyes, angular and malicious. Screaming, curses. A monumental hatred directed at him, for reasons he couldn't comprehend.

A civilian transport ship, floating in a system far away. He held it in his hands, and hundreds of frightened eyes stared out at him through dark portholes. With a laugh, he smashed the ship, until all that remained was the blood that stained his hands. Abruptly, he felt a sharp, stinging regret.

A young man, in his early twenties, facing him in a Bounty Hunter's jacket. A knife was in his hands and he abruptly slashed the man's neck, as innocent eyes stared into his dark soul. He felt emptiness, as if a part of him, too, had died.

Dark eyes staring at him, accusingly, as they floated out into the emptiness of space. He felt a vague sense of disappointment.

And finally, a pair of green eyes glowing with mischief staring out at him from the darkest corner of Sirius. He felt, momentarily, a sense of soaring hope that was soon consumed by despair and a profound sense of loss.

He awoke to the greatest pain he had ever experienced in his life. It was deeper than mere physical pain, a soul-wrenching feeling that felt as if the most important part of him had been ripped away. The orange mist was gone, and he looked up into Banshee's delighted eyes.

He screamed then, an endless raw sound that was the only expression of the pain he felt. He screamed and screamed, tears streaming from blue eyes that pleaded with her to just make it stop. She merely stared at him, savoring his pain as his screams grew to a fevered pitch as the pain continued to increase towards an inevitable crescendo of agony.

Banshee's eyes drank in the entire experience, his screams music in her ears, while she appreciated the man literally dying in front of her like the rare masterpiece of a celebrated artist. Lambert's skin turned to the clammy white of a corpse, and his lips turned blue to match the blue eyes that were slowly beginning to droop despite the continued screaming. Yet even the strength of those screams began to fade now, as important bodily systems began to shut down. His breathing and heartbeat began to slow to an erratic trickle as the death of the shrunken thing that had once been a man neared completion.

Reluctantly, she finally tore herself away from the scene, a scene that was horrifically familiar to her, and nodded to the mech standing by the tank. A button was pressed, and a small amount of the same orange gas was released into the tank. It floated down to the body at the bottom of the tank, and he miraculously began to return to life. Breathing returned to normal, and his eyes began to flutter open. The more of the drug that was consumed, the more life seemed to return to his body, until moments later, he was awake and sitting up, silently breathing it in.

'Welcome back, Mr. Lambert,' she said in a mocking tone. 'I'll keep the gas flowing for now, so you can focus on what I'm going to tell you. Do you understand?'

She waited until he wearily nodded, then continued.

'Good. I must say that I'm very impressed by this little drug,' she said, holding up the empty syringe she still clutched. 'It does the job so well, and I believe we still have a fair amount of time to use here. You see, normally the withdrawal effects won't be quite so... immediate. Yet they will happen in time. I'm afraid, my friend, that you will be taking doses of cardamine for the rest of your natural life.'

She laughed at the ashen look that came over him.

'You're fortunate, though, that I don't have more time to work with you. You see, the same was done to me by the Outcasts, but without this handy little drug. The process took months of agony before they were finally satisfied. But, now that I've been able to confirm that this works, let's get down to the real business at hand. You see, as I said, my dear prisoner, I know many things about you.'

He looked up at her with dread, like a condemned man waiting for the axe to fall.

'For example, I know that James Lambert is dead.'

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