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“Dar-ling~”
Being trapped… wherever… the hell this was, with some freaky-looking man was definitely not on his agenda. Mount Massive Asylum. The place they deemed better than Smiths Grove and sent him off to.
It was oh so much better before “the incident”. A secret place to ship the menaces of society they wanted to disappear off to, acting like it wasn’t their problem what occurred after that.
The experiments that devastated the man-before-him’s face were none of the government’s business apparently.
Fuck Colorado.
“Talk to me, darling.”
Of course, he wasn’t talking, especially not to this man out of all people. ‘The Groom’ they called him… or Eddie Gluskin, wearing some handmade, stitched-together suit that actually didn’t look half made considering the limited resources. And the dresses—wedding dresses—that the man had meticulously designed were actually decently tailored, he’d give him that.
He also had to respect all the dead body decor and their use as mannequins. In Michael’s eyes, it was oddly beautiful. He almost envied the work… the talent of this brutal process.
What he didn’t respect was this man’s disgusting, calloused fingers crawling up his cheek with strange, practiced gentleness he could tell the man was hoping to perfect.
“I just want to help.”
The nice little saw in the middle of the room accompanied by restraints and an abundance of dead bodies really painted his idea of ‘help.’
Flexing his wrists against the thick cuffs that bound them together, he tried to calculate how quickly he could get out of this little… situation.
The asylum was a total free-for-all! He could surely be doing so much more than sitting, trapped in the vocational block by some psycho wannabe groom.
A ‘groom’ who wanted to do what exactly…? Cut off his dick and balls and turn him into a woman of sorts???
The idea was not exactly appealing to him. He’d enjoy to keep his masculinity…
The experience didn’t look very delightful either, no matter how many ‘darlings’ and ‘think about our children’ Eddie threw in there.
Because… this man was apparently crazy enough to think doing all this would result in him being able to bear fucking children.
Anybody with the most basic understanding of biology would realize the ridiculousness of this.
So Eddie here was either INCREDIBLY stupid, or incredibly out of it. Michael, assuming the latter, realized there was absolutely no point in reasoning, and as the man’s finger made it under his chin, he wasn’t left with much of a choice but to look up and meet the man’s gaze.
Another thing he couldn’t wrap his head around, was how The Groom was so freakishly tall. He had just about a literal foot over Michael, who considered himself of decent height. Average. Eddie here was just under seven goddamn feet tall.
Not even peaking at six feet himself, to see a man like that with an advantage over him was truly infuriating. Wanted to cut a foot off him to make them even.
Maybe then he’d consider marrying him.
Yeah no.
“You can be beautiful.”
Michael’s gaze hardened at that, feeling fingers tangle through his dark curls. He didn’t want to ‘be beautiful’. Not by this man’s logic.
Fingers propped at the bandage that wrapped around his head, shielding his eye, and he finally jerked away.
Did he actually need to bandage? No. But he didn’t want this man poking around his face either. He was exposed enough without his usual mask, he didn’t need the last sliver torn away as well.
“Fiesy.” He laughed. “But it’s alright! Let's go and fix you… and all these nasty little errors up and make you perfect, darling.”
“…”
“Because,” the man grinned, lowering himself a few inches down to the smaller man’s level. “I just know you could make a marvelous bride. You could be the one. The one I’ve been searching for.”
He just stared right back into the man’s bloodshot eyes. The sclera of Eddie’s eye was completely scarlet, and it contrasted greatly with the piercing blue iris above. He never actually saw his own eye after the injury, but he did take it and it must have been fully healed by now. The electrocution was what made it bleed again and act out… and an infection didn’t help. Michael wholeheartedly never cared enough to do so, nor would he care to ask what happened to Eddie’s eyes, but he grew curious if they were similar. So did The Groom.
Although, apparently having a tinge of respect for his ‘future bride’s modesty, he backed down, fingers finding their way back to his cheek instead.
He was very… touchy. And Michael despised it. He hated being touched in every way possible. The man was clearly trying to be gentle, to seem tender and perhaps a bit comforting, but every little touch just made his skin crawl and he just wanted to itch it away.
His good eye drifted over to the table again, lips pressing firm. Eddie’s gaze followed. Both the wood and blade were absolutely drenched in blood, coated with ripped up flesh and organs with thick rope wrapped around the outstretched beams. It was indeed perfect for its… use.
“Come on darling,” when Michael refused, he added, “you’d have to think of our children!”
Children with this man were the absolute last thing he was currently thinking about.
It still wasn’t possible, not in the slightest chance, but Mr. Gluskin here didn’t seem to care about that part.
He just wanted children apparently, and was so desperate and off the rails that performing the shittiest, bootleg, gender-reassignment surgery seemed like it would work for him. As if it would magically grant Michael here the ability to bear children.
“Let me make you beautiful now.” Attempting to guide Michael towards the table, he hummed the words. “The incision might sting a bit, but I’ll make it quick just for you, darling.”
His grin was sinister, either by choice or not, and his pale, silver eyes gleamed in the dark. Michael just stood there, rooted in place. Was this man crazy to believe he would just willingly offer himself up for his sick experiment?
His grin faltered slightly. “But darling!” He pleaded. “Don’t you want this? Love? A family?”
He didn’t respond verbally, but his jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure if this man even knew his name, which maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and wanted to fucking marry him?
What kind of fever dream even is this…?
Maybe it was just a weird, messed-up dream. That would almost make more sense.
However… he wasn’t really all that worried. Sure he didn’t exactly want any of this, but it wasn’t actually scary in the slightest. He couldn’t actually die from this, and no matter how many pints of blood he might possibly lose, he’d just be able to get up as if nothing happened. He could even just… play dead until Eddie decides it’s time for a new little test subject. He was pretty good at pretending. His body might give out for a minute if it’s lethal, but he would just come back fresh a minute later, if that. Eddie, of course, would be none the wiser, so he’d just have to hope his body would get discarded to the side until he would be able to make his escape.
With a shove, the man knocked Michael to the ground, much to his momentary surprise, before effortlessly picking the man up and slamming him down to the table.
“You got this, darling.” He hummed, pulling a key from his pocket for the handcuffs. Perhaps he wasn’t the brightest, or severely underestimated the man he had captured, because the millisecond Michael felt the cuff loosen around his wrist, it shot out, wrapping around Eddie’s with an inhuman strength.
Startled, he attempted to rip his arm free, but by then the smaller of the two had already managed to grab a nice-sized knife that was sitting unattended nearby, plunging it quickly into Eddie’s stomach.
“You…” Eddie gasped, his voice holding a new tremble to it. “Filthy slut.”
He watched the man’s eyes widen to unnatural disks, dilated pupils fixed on the knife embedded in his stomach, clearly not expecting his prey to have fought back.
It didn’t take long for Eddie’s grin to break through again, his hands grasping at Michael’s, attempting to pry him off and take control of the weapon, but he didn’t budge. He just stared back, waiting until the man’s strength faded and he could easily go.
But much to his surprise, it was taking an awful while. He kept his grip, a grin plastered over his pale face, and laughs still escaping his throat.
“You little… ungrateful… whore.”
Gluskin’s strength was beginning to fail him now, and slipping the blade from his soft flesh, the man stumbled back a few steps, allowing Michael to bring himself back to his feet.
“Just like the rest of them…”
His hand groped at the wound, blood seeping through his fingers and down the bottom of his tuxedo, making him gasp.
The other just watched, cold fascination and pride stiffening his gaze. If this man hadn’t decided to target him, he would’ve admittedly admired him quite a bit. The amount of damage inflicted in only one night was surreal. He had killed dozens, making nightmarish spectacles with the corpses that would make any onlookers question the reality of this place.
Really made the vocational block look like a hellscape.
His grin widening, The Groom lunged with still sufficient strength, tackling his bride back into the table. Head landing mere inches from the large saw blade, he couldn’t help but flinch escaping before his wrists were trapped and held to the table.
“It’s really my fault, darling.” The man sneered, salivating. “I overestimated you.”
Overestimated or underestimated…?
Testing the strength of Eddie’s grip, he found it was still firm. Part of his dignity was still intact, and his pride battled the logical force that told him to fight back. His dignity couldn’t exactly spare him writhing, squirming, and kicking like an angry child.
If the older man wanted to stare down at him while slowly dripping saliva over his face, he’d surely bleed out at some point. Michael was pretty good at waiting… so he would just wait it out.
Within a moment, a pain was brought down in his wrist, seemingly crushing his bone. Seemed like Eddie wanted his knife back. He held onto that thing until he feared his bone would truly snap, and it was shoved away quickly, skidding across the table.
“Such a shame you have to go to waste, dear. We could’ve had a life together. A family! And to think I wanted you to hear my children?”
His teeth were bared, crimson blood dripping down his thigh now.
“Yet you’re just another whore. Like all women.”
Woman…?
He really hated to be called a woman, as if it were an insult. It was an insult. He strived to be a strong man, not a Barbie doll bride for this man double his own age to dress up and pour his seed into. His face contorted slightly, brows curving in and nose wrinkling up around the edges. What a strange man…
Getting a nice up close and personal look at his face, he wondered what the man did to upset his barber so much. Eddie’s face was all scabby and streaked with blood he assumed wasn’t his own, fucked over by the cruel experiments preformed on him.
Did he pity him?
No.
Not in the slightest.
Eddie was apparently too scared now to release his wrists, already fearing the exact consequences. If this man slipped up, he was dead. But, if he remained just standing there, he was also dead. Both of them knew there wasn’t exactly a way out that would end well for good old Eddie Gluskin. Unless the man’s Pride decided to act up again?
And his pride did act up. Sliding the younger man’s hands above his head, a tiny slip-up allowed one wrist to be yanked free. It darted straight to its capture’s eye, thumb shoving into the sensitive hole before it could be snagged. With a sharp hiss, the groom yanked himself away, freeing the young man yet again. He didn’t quite realize his foolish mistake until the two, slim hands fashioned themselves tightly around the large man’s neck with the intent to end his suffering for good.
“You little slut!” He growled and thrashed, but it was either by anger and rage that strengthened or by blood loss that weakened that the strangling felt ungodly powerful.
Fingers clawed at his wrists, strong enough to draw blood and rip bits of flesh off, but he didn’t let go. He just stared deadly into the bloodshot eyes, slowly watching the fight drain from them for good.
It wasn’t until Gluskin had fallen limp for a good 30 seconds before the hands slid up to cup his face. The chest had given up on his routinely squeezing, stalling coldly in place. He half expected the man to stir and wake again, ready to rip his flesh open and gut him with the saw and knife behind him, but he took that chance before it was given. Sidedly jerking the head to the side, the neck let out a loud crack and then he let it fall.
A stitched up heap on the ground.