bakerstreet | Hell is empty;

Hell is empty;

ʙᴏᴛʜ ɪɴ ʜᴇʟʟ

Of all the places in this world, there's nowhere worse you could be than where you are now. You're in hell - metaphorically or literally - and laying down and just dying seems more and more like the valid action to take. But you can't go any lower and death could be a no escape. There's only one thing keeping you from being a jaded, broken husk: you've fallen in love with someone who shares this fate. It's a love so different than the norm, that only those who've known this desolation can fathom. Perhaps they give you hope, they're an innocent worth keeping safe, they showed you unexpected kindness, or they're simply something to cling to. No matter what, you'll protect them and you wouldn't dream of leaving this place without them. They will leave, though...

...even if you don't.

☣ ＣＯＭＭＥＮＴ．ＩＮＦＯ．ＰＲＥＦＥＲＥＮＣＥＳ．
☣ ＲＥＰＬＹＴＯＯＴＨＥＲＳ．
☣ ＴＨＲＥＡＤ.

ＣＡＰＴＵＲＥＤ → For a crime you committed or not, you're in a prison.
ＶＡＬＵＥ → Something about you is worth quite a deal to the wrong person.
ＳＣＩＥＮＴＩＦＩＣ → You're nothing but an experiment, a lab rat.
ＰＥＲＳＥＣＵＴＥＤ → Your mistreatment is not because of what you've done. It's for who you are.
ＦＲＥＡＫＳＨＯＷ → All of your oddities are on display for the amusement of others.
ＦＯＲＣＥ → You have to do horrible things, though not of your own will or design.
ＲＡＣＫ → There's not just isolation or imprisonment on your plate - there's physical torture as well.
ＢＲＩＭＳＴＯＮＥ → "Hell" is no hyperbole; you're in the fiery pit itself.
ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bart Allen was in hell. Being captured and imprisoned by the government was bad enough, but being a lab rat in some underground lab was a nightmare he couldn't awaken from. It wasn't just the collar around his neck, the one that kept his powers in check, that drove him nuts. No, it was the fact that the speedster knew he'd likely die here that broke what little spirit he had left.

Every day was the same bloody routine for the young man. Wake on the floor of his cold damp cell. The endless barrage of tests, the needles shoved into his body as those burning drugs forced into his system. Pain surging through his body whenever they forced him to run on that treadmill, like a rodent that ran a wheel. They kept him weak, near death, and starving all the damn time. Yet there was one spot of joy that he had found in this god forsaken hell.

For just a few precious moments a night, just after the guards dumped his broken body back into his cage, Bart got to see her again. When all that pain and despair had started to dull just a bit he had the strength to crawl over to her side of the cell. He knew she fared no better them him, but just seeing that she still was alive...it was enough to keep Bart going for one more day. He never asked what she had been through, nor spoke of the horrors inflicted upon his own body. Instead the speedster just tried his hardest to force a warm smile as he collapsed beside her mattress on the ground. In a soft cracked voice whispered words were spoken, despite how much it hurt to even breathe much less to speak at all.

"...was thinking bout the ocean today...used to race across the water for fun...can still feel the spray of it on my face if I close my eyes and try real hard to picture it again."

Edited 2016-05-08 08:28 (UTC)

She knew she was going to die here.

Oh, shed been here longer than anyone else, long enough to watch plenty of other prisoners die under the knives of their captors, heard their screams as the drugs burned through their bodies. Seen their bodies pulled away to be disposed of. Enough death to keep her in nightmares for the rest of her life, and still it pulled her on and on and on. She survived, in the tortuous hell that was this place.

But surviving for longer than others meant nothing when everyone died.

The guards had made that clear when they slapped the collar onto her neck. Behave, or die. The explosives inside the ring of metal ensured her obedience, and the obedience of everyone else captured as well.

The guards called her the long timer, the special girl, and every week the stakes in the bet for how much longer she'd last got larger and larger and larger. Clarice was counted among those who wondered at how long she'd lasted.

The only good thing to come out of livig this long in this hell was him.

Brought in like so many others, and dumped on the floor, and somehow through the beatings and his own hurting, he'd managed to give her a little something that made the endurance hurt a little less. It almost felt like living again.

She glares at the guards as they drop him onto the ground of the cell, curling herself from the top corner of her thin mattress. As Bart lies on the floor beside it, Clarice wraps her hand over his, and squeezes.

They talked, even when it wasn't easy.

"I went to Coney Island once. The salt water blowing over the boardwalk got in his eyes. I hated it."

Between heavily labored, and so very painful, breaths his eyes drifted shut for a second as the blackness took hold. It was only the gentle warm of her hand squeezing his that brought Bart back from that edge...for the desire to just lay there and die.

Even her words managed to stir that fake smile into a real one, and with a broken chuckle he found himself gazing over at her.

"I'll get ya a cool pair of shades then. Maybe some purple ones to match your pretty tone."

He knew that day would never come. Knew they'd never be free to walk the boardwalk, much less see the sky again. Yet as bad as it hurt to know such a thing, the speedster clung on to the dream.

His thumb slowly caressed her hand, as tears silently fell down his face. Bart wanted to be free from this place, but it was her freedom he wished for even more.

"Had a little island I found, out in the clearest bluest waters. White sand and baby sea turtles there...could lay in the hammock and just nap away with you right there in my arms."

With a groan he shifted again, pushing himself through the agony to draw just a bit closer to her side. She was warmth, and light in this cold dark world...and he longed to be the same for her.

Starving to the point of malnutrition thanks to his inhuman metabolism, at least his body produced more heat than average. So with a muffled cry he used the last of his strength to pull himself next to her.

She curls her fingers in his hair, drawing her fingers down over his scalp, working her hands through his hair and pushing away the knots and bits of blood that have tangled it all up. Soft fingers, soft touches to it and working through, the little softness that can be offered in such a cruel hard place. She feels under her fingers the sweat and blood that come from the torture, the signs of what's been done to him, and maybe her fingers aren't enough to erase the pain of the experiments, but it's something.

Its something.

"Build a sandcastle. Let the waves knock it down."

She sighes softly, and leans in so that as he rolls onto the mattress, their bodies are pressed together. Shared sleeping space, shared warmth. There's not much else to do in this space beyond share themselves. Warmth comes from that shared nearness. Comfort, too.

Her arms are thin, but she wraps them over his shoulders and hugs him again her.

"Watch from the hammock until it all falls into nothing."

Clarice "Blink" / Xmen / OTA

Scientific?

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frank castle | daredevil (mcu) | ota

Tony Stark / MCU

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let me know if you'd like me to add/change anything!

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Let me know if I should change anything! Set it up with a bit of ultimateverse thrown in