Post by Cory W. on Aug 11, 2016 1:58:17 GMT -5
New X-Men #8 is well underway and should be completed in time for September's release. Here's a sneak peak!
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Deep within the Brotherhood of Mutants’ Antarctic Citadel, tucked away in its lowest level, was a poorly lit surgical laboratory which resembled more of an archaic and nightmarish butcher’s shop. At its center, Roy McConnell laid upright strapped on a surgical bed positioned at a 45 degree angle. His face was framed by the bed’s head rest with his eyes pried wide open in agony and a block in his mouth. Blood leaked over his lips and tears streamed from his eyes as he screamed to the heavens, but unfortunately for him the heavens weren’t listening that day.
The only light that illuminated the lab came from the video monitors and flickering lights from computer terminals. It was a wonder how the brute with grayish fur and simian-like features who sat over him, wearing filthy goggles and a bloodied lab coat, could see anything. Roy’s upper torso had been carved open in an inverted Y-shaped incision, all the way up to the top of his skull. The flaps created with his skin were folded open for surgical purposes.
Henry Philip McCoy, or at least his otherworldly counterpart, hummed a spiritual melody while he utilized twin laser scalpels to manipulate the man’s central nervous system.
“The dorsal ramus is connected to the… spinal nerve…” the Dark Beast sang to the tune of Dem Bones. “The spinal nerve is connected to the… dorsal root… And the dorsal root leads to the white matterrrr….”
Roy’s screams faded as the pain subsided in a rare instance of respite. He breathed heavily with exhaustion for several moments and then slowly began to weep. The telepathic blocks and psychic shielding were expertly installed by the congressman’s government, but there were ways around that and his captors did not hesitate to exploit them.
It was then Roy heard another voice for the first time since he had awoken.
“This is quite the procedure that you’ve developed, McCoy,” Deus remarked from over the mad scientist’s shoulder as he walked into the lab.
“Ah. You flatter me, Signore Deus!” the Dark Beast replied with a toothy grin and a playful Italian accent. “I do believe that I like it when you do that.”
Roy’s weeping gradually grew louder, like a wailing child lost in the woods being circled by wolves. Deus shot him a contemptuous glare, more annoyed than anything by his pathetic whimpers. The Dark Beast turned down the corners of his mouth and pushed out his lower lip.
"Oh, I know this is painful, my friend,” he said as if a tiny violin were playing for Roy before he continued working. “Bear with us, please. It will all be over… um, eventually…”
Roy tensed up and began squealing horrifically as the Dark Beast continued to manipulate his nervous system and mechanically access his memories. Those very memories began flashing on the monitors throughout the laboratory as they were recorded into the Brotherhood’s database.
Deus clasped his hands behind his back and sneered. He found the whole affair rather distasteful.
“Is all of the screaming really necessary?” he asked, his inquiry a mix of abhorrence and genuine curiosity. The Dark Beast shrugged, indifferent.
“I suppose that with some modifications I could make our telepathic probe significantly less painful, but that would require us to waste precious seconds recalibrating the temporal lobe implant that we installed, but as they say... Time is of the essence..."
“Hmph,” Deus nodded his head, somewhat satisfied with the Dark Beast’s response. He patted him on the back before turning about face and strolling out of the laboratory. “Indeed it is. Indeed it is...”
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Deep within the Brotherhood of Mutants’ Antarctic Citadel, tucked away in its lowest level, was a poorly lit surgical laboratory which resembled more of an archaic and nightmarish butcher’s shop. At its center, Roy McConnell laid upright strapped on a surgical bed positioned at a 45 degree angle. His face was framed by the bed’s head rest with his eyes pried wide open in agony and a block in his mouth. Blood leaked over his lips and tears streamed from his eyes as he screamed to the heavens, but unfortunately for him the heavens weren’t listening that day.
The only light that illuminated the lab came from the video monitors and flickering lights from computer terminals. It was a wonder how the brute with grayish fur and simian-like features who sat over him, wearing filthy goggles and a bloodied lab coat, could see anything. Roy’s upper torso had been carved open in an inverted Y-shaped incision, all the way up to the top of his skull. The flaps created with his skin were folded open for surgical purposes.
Henry Philip McCoy, or at least his otherworldly counterpart, hummed a spiritual melody while he utilized twin laser scalpels to manipulate the man’s central nervous system.
“The dorsal ramus is connected to the… spinal nerve…” the Dark Beast sang to the tune of Dem Bones. “The spinal nerve is connected to the… dorsal root… And the dorsal root leads to the white matterrrr….”
Roy’s screams faded as the pain subsided in a rare instance of respite. He breathed heavily with exhaustion for several moments and then slowly began to weep. The telepathic blocks and psychic shielding were expertly installed by the congressman’s government, but there were ways around that and his captors did not hesitate to exploit them.
It was then Roy heard another voice for the first time since he had awoken.
“This is quite the procedure that you’ve developed, McCoy,” Deus remarked from over the mad scientist’s shoulder as he walked into the lab.
“Ah. You flatter me, Signore Deus!” the Dark Beast replied with a toothy grin and a playful Italian accent. “I do believe that I like it when you do that.”
Roy’s weeping gradually grew louder, like a wailing child lost in the woods being circled by wolves. Deus shot him a contemptuous glare, more annoyed than anything by his pathetic whimpers. The Dark Beast turned down the corners of his mouth and pushed out his lower lip.
"Oh, I know this is painful, my friend,” he said as if a tiny violin were playing for Roy before he continued working. “Bear with us, please. It will all be over… um, eventually…”
Roy tensed up and began squealing horrifically as the Dark Beast continued to manipulate his nervous system and mechanically access his memories. Those very memories began flashing on the monitors throughout the laboratory as they were recorded into the Brotherhood’s database.
Deus clasped his hands behind his back and sneered. He found the whole affair rather distasteful.
“Is all of the screaming really necessary?” he asked, his inquiry a mix of abhorrence and genuine curiosity. The Dark Beast shrugged, indifferent.
“I suppose that with some modifications I could make our telepathic probe significantly less painful, but that would require us to waste precious seconds recalibrating the temporal lobe implant that we installed, but as they say... Time is of the essence..."
“Hmph,” Deus nodded his head, somewhat satisfied with the Dark Beast’s response. He patted him on the back before turning about face and strolling out of the laboratory. “Indeed it is. Indeed it is...”
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