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The mission, overall, was a success. Chuuya had killed the people Mori wanted killed, and gathered the information Mori wanted. With only one pressing issue… Chuuya got shot. Nothing major, just a shot in the shoulder. It was a close call, however. A bit too close for his subordinates' comfort.
“How’s it looking back there?”
Chuuya can hear one of his subordinates ask. He’s not paying close attention, honestly. He’s still somewhat reeling from the embarrassment of getting shot. Especially when he’s avoided bullets so easily before… Having only one good arm, Chuuya’s been demoted from driver to backseat passenger, while another lackey wraps a cloth around the wound the best she can. A tsk.
“Not too good…? I can’t really get the bleeding to stop. I’m not a medical professional by any means, but this might need surgery..”
Surgery catches his attention. A shiver runs down his spine. Damn…his subordinate tilts her head.
“Boss? Are you alright? Is the blood loss getting to you already?!”
Chuuya can’t help but smirk a little at the genuine concern in his subordinates voice. He knows why they’re worried, he’d be for them too. But he’s been through much worse than a little bullet wound, and he tells them as such.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been through much worse. A little gunshot is nothin’.”
His voice is wavering. A part of him is glad his subordinates think he’s all woozy from blood loss rather than afraid.
They usher him into the building, right into the medical ward. After a bit of explanation Chuuya wasn’t paying attention, it’s been decided surgery is needed. And the boss himself is doing it. Chuuya is more than relieved by this - Mori is the only one he really trusts with anything medical. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but Mori comes in and is sedating him now. He doesn’t remember when that started happening. It’s expected though, the medical ward always makes him feel funny…After being told to count down, Chuuya’s out like a light.
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The fluorescent lights burn his eyes. Chuuya turns his head and slams his eyes shut. He can’t move. The restraints around his arms, legs, and torso don’t allow him that luxury. He doesn’t try to use his ability. He knows what happens when he does without permission, and it’s never good. He sniffles. He knows he shouldn’t cry, nothing will hurt. But he won’t sleep this time. Sometimes, they put him under for certain experiments. Others he’s drugged up for. Today, he’ll be awake. He can’t stop his chest from heaving. The bed is cold and the bright lights hurt even under his eyelids.
“There’s no need to be so emotional, Chuuya. This is a small procedure, nothing terrible will happen.”
Cold, sharp, and fatherly. That’s what this man's voice was like. And yet, Chuuya can’t put a face to it. Glasses, a classic white coat, but everything else is a blur. As if the man has no face at all.
“...what are you gonna do?”
Chuuya learned quickly they like him when he’s weak. Fighting results in being hurt. Like training a dog with a shock collar. At least with this scientist, questions were allowed. Others hated being questioned.
“Well, the most recent clone was a disaster. We need to try again, don’t you agree?”
Chuuya nods. He’s not sure how many other versions of him they plan to make. He feels so out of it, so disconnected. He’s seen so many melt, heard so many scream in agony. He’s seen them not move at all, even when they were commanded to. He doesn’t remember how many there were. He doesn’t remember if he’s a clone. Maybe the original died somewhere after the first experiment, and he’s the best they got. Chuuya isn’t sure. He’s not sure of anything anymore.
“We figured it’d be best to differentiate between you all. Tagging is what we considered our best option.”
As the doctor continues, Chuuya can’t help but feel lost. Compared to other things he’s been told, this is exceedingly easy to understand. He just can’t focus. Tagging? Is he an animal? Maybe he is. He’s certainly not human. Not anymore, at the very least.
Chuuya’s blood runs cold as he hears the clanking of metal. This isn’t like usual. His eyes shoot open as he whips around to see what they have. Iron rods in the shape of a letter and a couple numbers. The top burns with a fiery red.
“There’s no need to squirm, Chuuya. Another doctor numbed the area, did they not? You won’t feel anything.”
Chuuya shakes his head, mouth opening into a scream, but no sound comes out. He yanks on the restraints, attempting to kick at the man in front of him. He’s frightened. His ability doesn’t even cross his mind. Doctor leans over and -
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“Chuuya? Are you awake?”
The boss's voice pulled Chuuya out of whatever state he was in. He doesn’t try to sit up. He nods, shaky and unsure.
“The surgery went well. It should take a few months to completely heal. I’ll relay this information to Kouyou, considering it doesn’t seem like you’re truly listening to me right now.”
Mori stands up, walks towards a table, and hands Chuuya a lollipop.
“For being a good patient.”
It’s so absurd it completely throws Chuuya off track. He blinks, staring at the strawberry flavored candy in front of him.
“...Am I five? You’re giving me candy? What’s next, a sticker?”
“Do you want one? I’m sure Elise has a book or two of them.”
“I very much do not.”
Mori shrugs, mumbling a quiet “suit yourself” before leaving the room, presumably to inform Kouyou of all that's happened. Chuuya sighs, shoving the lollipop into his mouth. His hand wraps around his neck.
He feels uneasy. He can’t remember why. It’s frustrating, having something on the tip of your tongue yet never being able to say it. A few months of recovery time…? What a joke. He should be working right now, not clutching his neck and lounging around. His throat is sore, and it’s freezing in here. A chill runs down his body as he attempts to curl into the thin blanket for some sort of resemblance to the hot and comfortable temperature of his room. He’s tired. Well, napping would be expected of him, he supposes. If there's a problem, they can just wake him up!
Chuuya closes his eyes and drifts to sleep.