30. Come Back And Stay.

I woke up on a freezing, unyielding steel table, tightly bound and completely exposed. The Polish scientist, whose name was so unpronounceable that I didn't even bother attempting, appeared before me. In my mind, he was simply the Polish sadist. I struggled to break free but remained silent as the first autopsy began.

This sadist delighted in playing with his noxious gaseous metals, causing unimaginable agony as he filled my body cavity with various versions. One, cobalt, ensured that my healing abilities were severely hindered, while other horrifying substances were surely present. There was no mercury or anything to slow me down; they wanted to push me further.

Determined, I use my powers to render myself sterile, destroying my ovaries and womb. It infuriated him, prompting him to subject me to even more excruciating studies, each method more painful than the last. He noticed that I was stronger than the last time he had captured me and took delight in breaking me down.

I had no clue if Adam or Damon were also trapped here, or what tortures they had endured. Time lost all meaning as these tests continued sporadically, rendering me unconscious for extended periods. And then, my rage began to awaken.

At some point, I managed to break free, though I couldn't recall when, how, or why. My anger surged forth, ready to tear everyone apart with my bare hands once again. I could feel the sensation as I plunged my hand into someone's insides, gripping something hot and moist - intestines or organs - and wrenching them out. The sickening squelching sound, the pungent smell, it all fueled my rage. My darkness reveled in it.

I inflicted significant damage before being struck by an electric dart once again. With a scalpel in my hand, I slumped my face and, with a rough estimate, plunged the scalpel through an open wound in my side, embedding it into my hipbone. The sensation of the scalpel was dulled, thanks to the healing properties of Damon's blood that I had in my hands.

I felt my wound closing, knowing that I had successfully concealed the scalpel within my body. I only needed another opportunity to unleash my rage and tear everyone apart once more, starting with the guards armed with Tasers.

There were several instances when I managed to break free, but time became a blur. My only focus was on releasing my rage, as the guards lacked an effective rage suppressant for me. Though heavily drugged, I tapped into my fury, breaking free and attacking every guard within reach.

The logic was nonexistent; I acted purely on instinct and rage. Warm innards filled my hands, surrounded by lifeless or dying bodies. Fear and terror radiated from those who dared to act against me, as my darkness manifested through my gaze. Additionally, I possessed a deadly venom, capable of causing foaming at the mouth and eventual death.

A Polish scientist found this aspect fascinating and wished to perform autopsies on the victims, hoping to synthesize a new poison. Furthermore, I used my vortex, which had been highly active, drawing upon the sensations inflicted upon me to derive pleasure. Pain and pleasure had long been integral to my existence, and this was yet another tool at my disposal.

They had to inflict true harm upon me. Being this inventive with my rage was not helpful; it caused me to lose all sense and reason. The darkness within me threatened to emerge, further complicating matters. It was evident that Damon and Adam had also fallen into captivity.

I witnessed several instances where Damon was brought into a vast, cold space. His complexion was pale as he lay unconscious, stripped of his clothing. They placed him in a machine, a shed session device, and eagerly awaited the data that would follow. When they removed him, he appeared torn apart, his wounds left to heal or stitched if they did not. He would be in a terrible state after this ordeal.

As for Adam, I caught glimpses of him. They subjected him to some godforsaken AI or similar technology, causing severe damage. They attempted to destroy him on a cellular level while also studying him. They had gathered information about my origins, though not everything.

They discovered Adam played a role, and now they had multiple werewolf or human females attempting to recreate me. However, every creature infected with this creation became consumed by rage, losing their own minds. These creatures had to be eliminated. They were on my list, and although I managed to kill a few, most of them were moved to a more secure location, making it impossible for me to reach them.

When I initially targeted those victims, determined to kill them all, they witnessed my actions. They tried to interrogate me, extract the secrets of my origins, and invade my mind. They had a few telepaths on their side, but it was effortless for me to incapacitate them. I had so much shit and serious shit in my mind that a single shed-session memory was enough to fry their brains. My memories were too potent for anyone other than the Salvatores.

They discovered that certain areas, like my mouth, were excellent sources of pain for me. One sadistic individual with gaseous metals began tearing through my mouth, causing unimaginable agony. Amidst the torment, I overheard several crucial facts. They remained clueless about vampire teeth, and how we produce substances, and even after seeing scans of Damon, Adam, and myself, they had no idea how to proceed. Studying our fangs was not their intention. Instead, they simply administered a few drugs to our frontal sinuses and sinuses, unaware of their true functions.

I heard them talking about the boys, that is Adam and Damon, who had then covered all the cameras and destroyed them, they did little to surveillance them, but they had been implanted, in their abdominal aorta and there was an alert if those implants were to tamper with, boys would be out cold. It was a strong sedative.

They tried to think of a way to get me weaker, and also get those crazed victims to a little more human-like shape from their minds but few telepaths, those who had not been fired by my memories told this sadist that those creatures had no mind but this sadist did not believe them.

They had calmed men down, by giving them a few drugs in water, and when they made coffee it worked. It did not feel so much but blocked their anger, their rage in the way they just did not get so easily upset. This Polish scientist knew quite a much of salvatore rage and he knew how to keep Damon calm. How to cool his rage. The same went with Adam.

He had not yet gotten my rage destroyed, but I was weaker, I had put up a hell of a fight every single time I had gotten free, boosting my powers, but they kept me more and more drugged, my powers did not help my body, I got weaker but my powers churned inside of me.

I of course tried to act whenever I could and I knew I could do some serious damage in lot weaker state, I had again several chambers of very strong rages in my mind, my willpower had boosted, and my vampire side, it was quite stronger too. But they gassed me, kept me so damn drugged it was more and more difficult for me to get my rage and my powers. As pain weakened me even more. 

Polish sadist had been furious as my body remained infertile, it had been his idea to extract my ovum and Damon's and Adam's sperm to create embryos, to be implanted in humans and others, to see if those embryos would grow and what they would become, but there were no eggs in me and I had no idea if my one pheromone, warning pheromone had been registered on either men, telling them to keep their fertility low as possible. I did not know. 

Men huddled together, their brows furrowed in deep concentration as they devised a plan. Time had slipped away, weeks passing without a trace of Mimi. Exhausted, they had nourished their bodies, sought rest, and pushed their physical limits. It was an arduous task, but their persistence paid off, if only slightly. 

One peculiar aspect of their strategy was Damon's insistence that he and Adam empty their bump bags, leaving them as barren as possible. The thought of providing these sadists with ample material to dissect was unbearable. So they scavenged for large bags, collecting as much bump as they could find. They used it for washing, rationing, and most importantly, reserving it for Mimi, should they ever locate her and bring her to safety. 

Sitting at the table, Damon's attention snapped to the door as it swung open. The cook and a few guards entered, carrying folders. Adam couldn't help but chuckle as the cook presented the folders, granting them the power to select their meals. Damon took charge, carefully choosing dishes specifically for Mimi. However, her delicate nature meant that he would have to taste each morsel before allowing her to consume it. 

After the cook and guards departed, the door creaked open once more, revealing the arrival of the nurses, accompanied by Mimi. She lay motionless on the bed, her limbs bound and her face pallid, marred by bruises. Damon and Adam fought to maintain composure, aware that the nurses had their hands concealed, ready to incapacitate them if they dared to make a move. Food and drink were delivered to the room before the nurses departed, leaving the men alone with their precious charge. 

Though Damon yearned to hold her, to tend to her needs, he forced himself to remain still. However, his trembling form betrayed his desperate desire. Adam, too, gazed upon Mimi with concern, his expression void of anger as he attempted to maintain a clinical demeanor. As the door closed behind the departing guards, the men steeled themselves, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Mimi's shackles came undone, but she didn't wake up. Damon and Adam went to investigate. Mimi had lost weight from what Damon had last seen just on activity day; they had been here for some time. Her ribs were visible, and she looked more gaunt and pale. Mimi was covered in stitches, and Damon could see that Mimi was obviously not healing. She was bruised all over. There were hand prints on her skin, and up close, Damon could sense her rage. He looked at the long row of stitches in her chest. He tried to drain his own blood, and then he sniffed and cursed.

Mimi had some cobalt compound in her that prevented her from healing, even with his blood. Mimi seemed to have been subjected to some pretty rough handling, and as Damon untied one bandage after another, he saw the extent of Mimi's injuries. There were bruises, deep and sore-looking, bullet wounds but Damon could not feel any bullets so those had been taken out. She had been fighting and then some. But right now, she was out cold. Deeply sedated still.

Adam said, " Does your telepathy or bond with Mimi work enough to tell if she's pain-free now? I mean, should she be allowed to sleep??"

Damon concentrated and said, " She is pain-free; let her sleep now. We can eat. I'm not going to taste her blood now; I suspect those have done something to my teeth, and I don't want to poison Mimi accidentally."

They went to eat, let Mimi sleep, and be pain-free. Damon couldn't get his rage out properly. He knew he'd been given some kind of rage blocker. Then Mimi was taken away again, and after a while, they too woke up again, sore, tired, and knowing that this was not a simple place to get away. Damon had never felt so powerless, yet he couldn't stop them from taking Mimi away to be tortured again. Time seemed so short when Mimi was with them and she was asleep.

It was several times after they had woken up and Mimi had been in and out of this room when Damon noticed something peculiar about Adam. Damon wondered why Adam was so unusually quiet, lost in his own thoughts, and clearly restraining himself. As they sat down to eat, Damon observed that there were a few meals brought to Mimi. Perhaps only one, and it seemed unsuitable for her, filled with the wrong herbs. Damon suspected it had been intentional. Those scientists wanted to see how he could notice if the food was not good for Mimi, as he had warned the cook that he would know. It had been tested.

Mimi had not returned yet. Whenever she did, she always came back unconscious, her body covered in stitches, deep bruises, and wounds - even bullet wounds from her attempts to fight back. They always let her sleep when she was pain-free, at least for a while.

Adam looked at Damon with a weary gaze and finally spoke up, his voice filled with quiet pain. "You're unconscious the whole time they're working on you, aren't you?"

Damon nodded, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied Adam.

Adam continued, his voice barely a whisper, "I'm not unconscious. We are in the same space, and I can hear how..."

Damon finished his sentence, "Mimi is screaming, huh?"

Adam nodded. "She sometimes manages to break free, but it's not long before they electrocute her and continue the torture. That damn Polish guy... I'm drugged into oblivion, but I can hear her. It's just that I'm so damn helpless to do anything."

Damon sighed, realizing the truth. "I kind of suspected as much, seeing how you're so determined to keep Mimi pain-free. But now we have to wake her up when they bring her in. She needs to eat; she has lost too much weight already, way too much. If she doesn't eat, she'll be prone to infection, and we need to talk to her, to minimize the damage. Right now, she's only hurting herself. We have a plan. It will help her, and some of the food is suitable for her."

Adam let out a low grunt, his voice filled with concern as he spoke softly. "We have to see if we can even wake her up. And she might be too keen to fight. I've been there with her. She might have her rage fully out."

Adam recounted to Damon their time on the ship, describing the creature that Mimi was, and how he had kept her in his lap, desperately trying to prevent her from attacking everyone. Damon's anger towards Bran for attempting to kill her still lingered, but they needed to remain focused.

Damon pondered if he could somehow consume some of Mimi's rage to temper it. "I'm sure we will get her awake, but we must be persistent. She needs to wake up and eat, maybe wash. As for her temperament, we need to talk to her and try to get her to see reason. I might try to absorb some of that rage. It could empower me," Damon suggested. 

A few hours later, when Mimi was brought in, Damon and Adam examined her as they always did. The sight of new stitches and slow-healing wounds pained them both. Damon worried this job would become much more complex once the infection took hold of Mimi.

The aroma of food wafted through the air as it was placed on the table, and the men sat down to eat. They planned to wake Mimi after they had finished their meal. Damon realized Mimi had never really been given any food, except for that one poisonous meal. Damon suspected it was a test, to see how much he could sense about what was good or bad for Mimi. No more meals had been brought since.

It seemed that the researchers assumed Mimi was harmless, unconscious, and not eating. Determined to get Mimi to eat at least a little, Damon vowed to make it happen. They had reserved a substantial amount of bump too, and Damon was resolute in ensuring that Mimi consumed it.

He had stored portions of his food in the fridge, which would be an excellent place to start. They had a microwave, and he could heat the food in it. They had eaten and drunk; Damon put another pot of coffee on, strong as they were about to go and wake Mimi up, and the coffee would help at least a little.

I was always awake part of the time when they brought me into the room, but I was so incredibly sick that I let the drugs keep me unconscious. I had fought with everything that I had and a little more and those sadists had then gotten me, trying to get me down.

I was so full of drugs and sore, in pain and tired. I just let the drugs keep me down. At least that way, I wouldn't suffer anymore. In this institution where I was, there was this fucking Polish sadist, and oh goddamn it, I always woke up tied to a table, and the fucking sadist started torturing me.

He had platinum-cutting instruments made, and he loved to perform autopsies on me. My mucous membranes would absorb the gaseous metals that he would stick in with the mask, and then he would squirt something into my mouth, making it explode in pain so that I would scream. 

I used every ounce of my rage, unleashing it with all my might, but he grew more inventive in his methods of torture. He wanted to hear me scream in agony, to break me so completely that I couldn't even focus on my rage anymore. Gaseous metals were ruthlessly pumped into my sinuses, searing pain shooting through my head after I had already poisoned and killed countless men with my venomous fangs. My lungs were filled with a burning agony, each breath a painful struggle, raspy and ragged.

Then, he took a knife and cut out one of my organs, placing it on a cold table to torment it further. He had Damon's blood, keeping it alive for as long as he desired. At times, he would give my organs to others, intensifying the agony to unbearable levels. Each transplanted organ endured within another body for a few hours, maybe even twelve, and throughout that time, I writhed in unrelenting torment. Imagine the torment of having twelve pairs of kidneys, all slowly dying inside of humans while I was feeling it all.

He drained my blood, extracted it with a dialysis machine, and injected me with a rage-blocking substance. But the blocker could not fully suppress my rage; it was only a temporary respite. He sadistically electrified my chakras, using them as his personal torture targets. When he discovered my pain and agony chakras, he would manipulate them with his drugs and instruments, rendering me unconscious most of the time. The pain would always tear me apart, shattering what little sanity I had left.

Then he began experimenting with various drugs. I no longer had the strength to fight back, so I surrendered to their effects, waiting for the next sedative or anesthetic to numb my senses. There were countless other drugs to be tested, each one plunging me deeper into a nightmarish realm. I could feel my vortex, my vampire power, and my alpha power still churning within me, but I was too weakened and drugged to access them. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would lose my connection to my rage completely.

Partially regaining consciousness, I caught a whiff of coffee, causing my salivary glands to spasm involuntarily. The pain became almost unbearable. I could detect the scent of Damon and Adam, their worry palpable, but I was too exhausted, too consumed by agony. All I longed for was the sweet release of oblivion, to be free from this torment.