[Munch's Master]

Tis' that time of the week! Tis the tiem when i update my fic! this chapter is logner and, IMO, better quality than the last, plus it features a nie little torture scene. Hooray!
Chapter 11: Pain and Suffering

Worry. At what would happen to him in the labs.
As the Slig ‘escorts’ marched Larry to the product testing lab, Murphy grinning and making notes on a clipboard along the way.

Dread. For what was soon to come.
As the laboratory’s doors opened, and Larry was marched inside, while Murphy hobbled over to some sort of chute and inserted a bottle of some strange liquid into it.

Fear. Towards the horrors that he would experience, and his impossibility of escape.
As he was strapped into a traditional Vykker operating chair. Straps were bound tight about his wrists and ankles, more tied across his shoulders. A leather choker was fastened about his neck, and a metal head restraint jammed about his forehead roughly. The restraint was old, and carelessly jammed on, cutting his head slightly. The restraint was clamped on, and winched up slightly by a button at the panel Murphy now stood at. Larry felt his head and body straightened, as he sat there, unable to move, in utter terror.

Whatever the metal thing that Murphy had put the bottle in was, it was moving. Towards him, at a frightening pace. Noticing the end of the contraption being a long point with a slight hole in it, Larry suddenly twigged.
Ahh, it’s a big syringe...then…Dammit, I’m in trouble.
The syringe neared, the point of it inches of his neck, which was apparently the injection point. And the tip was drawing nearer each second. Larry could feel his heart hammering inside his ribcage, as the bluish fluid that was in the inserted bottle seemed to drain towards the end of the mechanical syringe.

The fear intensified. Then, Pain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trevor sat gloomily in his cell, pondering Larry’s fate. He had been sent back to his cell rather than made to continue the work shift because, under directions from a Junior Executive towards the sligs, he was a threat to the work force and needed isolation then questioning.
He remained in his worry, looking up for a moment as he saw a Slig walk in, holding some pieces of paper. The Slig tied each onto a bar on each cell using some string that had been threaded through the paper, and then made to leave. Trevor, curious, called after the Slig.
“’Scuse me, but what’re them pieces of paper for?”
The Slig smirked, then walked back towards him a bit.
“Well, I don’ need tat tell ya, ‘cause you can find out for yerself. Just ‘ave a read, that is, if you can read, mud freak.” The Slig honked a laugh then continued out. Trevor shuffled over to the paper, tied to the bar, and read what was on it. The more he read, the more hi face began to show a look of distaste and gloom.
“Oh Dear.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry screamed in pain as the needle broke the skin on his neck, hot tears of agony flowing down his face as the point entered his flesh, before feeling a horrible liquid enter his throat.
The pain continued, burning as though a white hot poker had been stabbed into his neck, before the feeling spread around the whole of his body. Gradually however, the pain fade, to be replace with a more chilling sensation, literally. He felt his body go cold, not on the surface, but inside. It was a peculiar feeling, to have your outer body warm but your bones, blood and muscles feel iced. But soon, he couldn’t even feel that. In fact, he couldn’t feel any of his body. He felt numb, as though he he’d been standing in severe frost with nothing but his loincloth on.
Soon, more strange feelings developed. The pain returned, but in his head, and in his heart, a dull ache and sharp throb respectively. He tried to cry out, but found he couldn’t. He tried to move his fingers, but his whole body felt like jelly, and felt shrivelled and itchy. His brain processed as well as it could that this must be the stage where the nutrition is drained, but shortly he couldn’t even think, or see, straight. He couldn’t even tell if his heart was beating, having lost completely all feeling in his body. A dull pressure seemed to be beating on the inside of his head, his lungs struggling to draw breath, before stopping.
Even as he gradually suffocated from paralysis, Larry’s mind dimly registered that this must be what it’s like to be a zombie. Everything seemed to fade, Larry barely knowing he was alive, until a second injection, unfelt but felt at the same time was made into his stomach. Gradually the pressure on his head faded, the pain changing to more of a weary ache, as though he had overworked himself physically. Sight, and thought, and feeling, returned to him, warmth very slowly reappearing as well. His body felt less atrophied and he felt less ill, these sensations being replaced by a strong desire for rest, and a nausea that was nothing to do with his emotions, but all to do with his condition.
The Sligs, who had watched with fascinated glee, now unstrapped him and threw him hard onto the floor, one kicking at his ribs as well. Murphy peered down at Larry with a look of triumph, slight surprise, and a sneer.
“Well well well little troublemaker. It seems you’re tougher than I thought, and you have proved my serum to be a success. I congratulate you for surviving, but, had my formula been incorrect, I promise you that I would have informed Boss Godrar of your past misdemeanours. As it turned out correct, I’ll spare you the grinder for now.”
He turned quickly to the Sligs, who snapped to attention.
“Sligs, take this piece of filth back to his cell, now. And make sure he doesn’t leave your grip or sight.”
Both Sligs gave out the standard reply. “Sir yes sir boss Murphy!”
The two then saluted, hauled Larry up quickly and painfully, and half marched; half dragged him wordlessly out of the labs.
-----------------------------

Will Larry recover from his ordeal? Will Arthrur remain a badie? Just what was on those paper notices? Will you reply? The answer to the last question should be yes, so please read and give your verdict!