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He looks in the mirror, eyes wide with fear and already stained with tears,reaching for his reflection, fingers trembling or is it his whole body shivering. Lines are all blurry. Why can't he see clearly. It must be the migraine he thinks. Migraine doesn't explain one of his eyes changing colour as he continues to stare. Animalistic screatching rings in his ears, he is and he hears rabbits trapped in snares, knowing that hunting dogs are after them. Heart beating hard in his chest he has to clutch on the shitty motel sink. He can feel it cracking under his grip.
Pressure surrounds him. What is happening. Over-the-counter painkillers can't keep the pain of his bones and muscles reshaping, white sharp ends protruding out of his limbs, raw and bloodied, just to be enveloped by muscle strands moving like earthworms washed out by the heavy rain. He can no longer think clearly, all of his thought is consumed by rapid changes to his body. His legs give out under him, his feet are still plastered to the floor, while his back hits bathroom tiles that become increasingly more red with every horrible crack that breaks through those screams he can still hear. For a brief moment he can't move his legs, just to unsteadily stand up, seeing how his skin sews itself together all over his body. Finally he can't feel his muscles constricting in the cold air of the motel bathroom.
Maybe it's over. Maybe it's a sick dream. He will wake up. Is he taller? No more can he think when he hears the worst sound of yet, his vertebrae dislocating and enlongating, ripping his recently healed skin, creating some kind of perverse set of human gills. The pain is overbearing when he hears a deep, oh such a deep and smooth voice. "Doppio oh Doppio, my sweetest Doppio why have you made this so hard on yourself. Shhh, my dearest, let me take this pain away." With every word spoken, Doppio felt less, which meant no more pain, but also him losing his shaky but still existant, grip on reality." Doppio you are hurting yourself. Why fight me today? What sparked that? You are unaccustomed to such things-" The arm that is no longer in Doppio's control balances their body on the counter. "-you don't know how to make the Transformation, my dear boy. You are letting yourself experience all that pain as it happens." The last thing Doppio sees before he is deprived of his sight, is his body contorted in impossible ways, his hair long so so long and so vibrant with… Spots?
"The trick is to make it fast. Deal with the pain later. It sets deep, my precious boy. Awakens with every move you make. Oh, i can't have you remembering this." As much as their mutilated state allows it, Diavolo strokes their cheek affectionately. "All those horrible memories. You deserve happiness my love. I only want to care for you. Why make my work harder?!'" He is no longer aware of his body, barely hearing anything, especially this person's monologue. He thinks that they sound a bit like his Boss. What a silly thought. Boss is somewhere far. So far away and hidden. Hidden, hidden, hidden, shhh he can't be seen! Not here in a shitty run down motel, the only place that didn't ask for his ID. Boss must have much higher standards than that.
And his mind goes quiet with that thought, consciousness completely overtaken by Diavolo, who is now wincing at the mirror and smoothes his palms along cracks on the sink. That wasn't supposed to happen. Doppio has almost never resisted the change. What made him reject him today? They are a good system, why change the arrangement? He stretches, placing few loose bones in their correct joint placements and gets their wild hair out of his face. He now has to clean off all of this blood. And erase Doppio's memories of these events. It's going to be a busier night than he has expected.