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inkribbon796 · 2 years

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Egotober 2022 Day 21: Refracted Lenses

Summary: The WTCHR facility is dedicated to safety and security, for its clients and employees. And Henrik knows that promise well, because he’s a completely normal IRIS scientist and nothing is wrong with him.

A/N: This doctor’s name is a placeholder until Jack tells me the name of the character that Arin is playing.

Prompt: Iris

Characters: Henrik

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Henrik hadn’t slept well last night. Nights were long in the IRIS labs and they all kind of blurred together.

But that’s what coffee was for. Henrik loved coffee.

He was in the lab floor break room, stirring in his coffee and ignoring the two armed guards that were a fixture in every breakroom.

When he turned, Henrik watched one of the head doctors walk in. He stopped in front of the little pastry display close to the IRIS logo. His brown shoulder-length hair was meticulously cared for, a couple dyed blond streaks in the hair.

“Hey, Henrik,” Dr. Hanson smiled as he plucked a little raspberry donut from the display and closed it back up, leaving the plastic tongs on top.

“Hallo, Doctor,” Henrik said, sipping on his coffee. As he stepped away.

“About to head home?” The doctor smiled.

Henrik turned his wrist to check his watch. “Nein, I have about one hour left.”

“Well that’s good, you’ll get some sleep, been a bit of a busy week,” Dr. Hanson smiled at Henrik.

“Ja,” Henrik affirmed before sipping down some more coffee. His eyes suddenly became heavy and he blinked a couple of times to clear the heavy, sleepy feeling when he opened them he was suddenly at a desk with several files and clipboards around him in his office.

He felt weird, and glanced at the coffee on his desk. He felt weird but he looked at the files on his desk and glanced back at the door to his office. He basically lived and worked in the facility. For security and safety. IRIS had thousands of secrets people wanted to steal.

A knock came at his door and Henrik turned back as Dr. Hanson walked in. “Hey, Henrik, just checking to see if you have the file we need.”

“Oh, of course,” Henrik said, his hands finding the file he was looking for.

Dr. Hanson walked over and looked Henrik in the eyes. “You sure you’re doing alright?”

“Ja,” Henrik said as he passed the file to the doctor.

The head doctor thanked him and walked out, as if moving between layers in reality. The scene for him changed as he walked out of the room. Instead of a desk and a bed, there were three doctors standing around a table that Henrik was resting on. He was unconscious and the doctors were injecting something into his arm through an IV. Dozens of sensors and machines were hooked up to the unconscious doctor, giving all kinds of readings for the researchers in the room.

“I don’t want him waking up again,” Dr. Hanson said. “Yesterday was an absolute disaster. We lost one of them, we’re not losing this one too.”

“Yes, Sir,” one of the doctors said. “What simulation should we run for him this time?”

“Anything other than the apartment,” Hanson told them. “Keep that other glitch out of his thoughts.”

“Got it, Sir,” another doctor said as they turned to a computer to start up a particular program.

Dr. Hanson walked down the hallway. This particular wing of the facility was still heavily damaged. Claw marks and electrical scorch marks were up and down the hall. Dents were still being patched up.

A pair of guards walked in lock step with him and the head doctor turned around angrily. “How extensive are we looking at?”

“Sector I is still down, but the other sectors are back up and running,” one of the guards said.

“I want the guards that were on duty in my office,” the head doctor said. “That glitch escaped and we need to get him back under control.”

“Right away, Sir,” the two said and walked off so that the head doctor could return to his office to begin working on the massive migraine they had found themselves in.

All the while Henrik slept, his brain lying to him as he did so.

#Egotober2022 #Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Henrik #IRIS #Dr. Hanson #mentions of Antistein #deception #medical imprisonment

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florenceisfalling · 3 years

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journal entry written by anti during the first three months of henrik's "vacation" with him.

when i drove a few hours to the little store in town with buzzing artificial lights and tacky labels on every shelf, i don't know why i absentmindedly put strawberry jam in my cart. maybe i was remembering when he told me he isn't a great cook, he'd rather make strawberry pb&j sandwiches to live off of.

but he's been good this week.

so. in that kitchen i stood and spread jam and peanut butter over the bread that i was nice enough to even toast, just so it'd be warm. i know it gets cold down there. wrapped it in a napkin, set it on a plate - a proper one too, i finally bought dishes, pretty little ones with flowers on them like jamie's - and filled a glass of water. got him a little pain pill.

i unlocked the door, carried the plate downstairs, heard him shuffle back in a resigned attempt at fear.

but i moved gently, careful down the steps. didn't mean to scare him, and didn't want to spill the water. he looked at me with a... hesitant? curiosity in his eyes when he saw the plate, a few blinks when he saw the sandwich, like he wasn't sure if he saw it right. can't blame him for it, he's been mostly left to scraps and shitty canned food. you can see his ribs, if you bother to lift his shirt.

handed the plate over, set it by the mattress. watched him take it in his hands and start to eat.

"my favorite?" he mumbled, once he had enough water to wash away the dry creekbed in his throat. i nodded, pinched off a little corner of the bread and took it for myself. he seemed to consider that a threat and didn't slow down to look neat, just shoveled the rest of the meal down. didn't even care to ask what type the pill was.

there was still blood staining the space beneath his nose. it matched with the jam all sticky on his lips.

pretty lips, pretty little sharp teeth picking at the crumbs. eyes that looked at me with a million questions but not enough fucks to give for asking. hands that reached forward to an empty plate and then remembered there wasn't a bite left. hair with a million tangles. pretty, sugar-stained lips.

we sat in silence a little while, until a soft "thank you." he closed his eyes with the taste on his tongue. probably remembering home.

"don't expect this again," i warned, went back upstairs and hummed a song in the kitchen, washed the plate and cup and put the pill bottle away. i wonder what he thought of me watching him eat in silence. hm. hm. i had warned him and told him he wouldn't have this again. it was special, a reward, not the norm. he is still my prisoner.

he has never been my friend, and i bet i'll lie about it someday.

but. in this kitchen i stand and spread jam and peanut butter over the bread that i am toasting again, with one of the blankets i don't need anymore, just so he'll be warm. i know it gets cold down there. i said i wouldn't do it but i've got three jars of strawberry jam and a man in my basement with bones showing through his skin and i want to see him with red lips and teeth again.

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