Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 8
Chapter 8.
They were outside, following Sir's orange and white striped body from a close distance. Though he rarely punished them in public, it could come, and swiftly at that. Their collars had grown tighter over the years, something Sir constantly growled and grumbled about, he said they would need to be replaced soon, an expense he wasn't enjoying the idea of. If Sin could stop his body from growing, he certainly would. Oddly, he was significantly taller than his brother.
Despite that, this was a special time, Sir had said. Sin's eighteenth birthday gift, which was strange because they'd never had a birthday gift in their whole life. They didn't even know birthdays were supposed to come with gifts, usually Sir just told them they were another year older.
The city was alive around them, which was terrifying to Sin and Mist both, creatures of so many shapes and sizes, most unknown, speaking languages they couldn't understand. Craft descended from the sky and hovered around on the streets around them. Later, Mist and he would quietly discuss what they'd each seen, trying to wrestle the names and purpose of anything memorable.
Sir led them into a shop with a sign mounted above in bright neon. Neither he nor Mist knew how to read, it was all just strange pointy symbols in a language only Sir knew. They were both entirely unable to survive alone in this world, and in fact, the doors to the house they lived in weren't even locked at night. While Sin had wanted to escape so many, many times... where would they go? Sir provided shelter, food, and protection from what he said were far worse experiences than what he gave them.
Sir shook paws with the owner, a Rhenthar with short golden fur, copper colored eyes and floppy ears. He pointed at Sinclair and together they discussed something private, Sir holding up a plastic package he'd brought with him. Sin avoided listening in, he kept his gaze on the floor and pretended not to notice.
"Come here, young wolf. Let Doctor Wyse have a look at you," the store owner said. Sin glanced at Mist, then at Sir, realizing he was being spoken to. He tentatively stepped forward and kept his eyes glued to the floor. Normally they weren't allowed to speak to anyone.
He knelt and inspected Sin's muzzle, holding it gently while poking stubby claws into his nostrils before glancing at Sir. "You know these collars are undersized, right? Looks like they both need new ones."
"I didn't see a sign above your shop that said it offered advice on how to take care of my property. Do your fucking job," Sir ordered.
"Huff," Wyse looked closer at Sin. "I could report you, yes I could... bah." He seemed to make a decision. "I remember when I was your age," he said, changing to a more pleasant tone. "Now I'm older and wiser, hah! Get it, son?" Sin nodded, but he didn't understand.
"All righty, climb up into the chair here. Your first wetware! What an experience you'll have. Only the one is getting it today?" Wyse looked at Sir curiously. Sin felt a cold cloud of doubt descend upon him as he realized whatever wetware was, it would probably suck. He felt Mist's paw touch his side in a reassuring manner, and briefly decided he was glad it was him , and not Mist. He was very protective of his brother.
"Just the one, that's a custom chip I had made. I'll put one in the other when I have the money for it."
"Custom..." Wyse said. "Hmmm, my equipment doesn't recognize any of these functions..."
"And it won't." He said. "Just put it in."
Wyse looked at him curiously. Sinclair noted a strong odor of mistrust and doubt drifting from the shaggy Rhenthar. "Very well... up you go."
The connection with Mist was broken once he stepped forward and climbed into the chair. It was soft and green, he leaned back and let his tail fall through the slot. Fear began its long lengthy process, coming online gradually, in steps. The oldest emotion he had, and the one he experienced the most. He briefly made eye contact with Mist. Yellow eyes seeking green, as long as they could see each other, anything could be endured.
"...what do you mean, no anesthetic?" Wyse was arguing with Sir, and Sinclair felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He seemed so nice, but Sir was big and strong, and would get his way, no matter what.
Sin strained to pick up more of the conversation. "...landlord are good friends. Do you want to lose your shop?"
"What? No, I won't do it! I'm not some torture implement of yours, I took an oath to do no harm. You'll get no help from me." The doctor took one last look at Sinclair, and stormed out, trailing anger and sympathy both. While it only seemed to be a glance, Sinclair could feel the machine he was seated in make a distinct vibration, a silent clunk. Wyse did something, he was sure of it.
Maybe he wouldn't be getting this wetware thing, after all.
A shadow fell across his gaze, and he stared up at Sir, immediately looking away. He smelled anger, and Sin could hardly stop himself from whimpering. Such noises would only make it worse.
Sir started pushing buttons on the big machine, staring at a readout on the front. He swiveled some sort of metal support system until it was right in front of Sin. Sir's pupils were large and anger was transitioning into pleasure, a typical change that meant pain was approaching quickly. It would be here soon.
"Lean forward, Sinclair. Put your muzzle in the hole."
He stretched his neck and pulled his back away from the comfort of the cushion behind him. The machine smelled like sharp chemicals, shiny metal gleamed from within.
Fear picked up another couple of notches.
Sir pushed a couple of buttons and carefully read something on a glowing screen. He let out a long purr, tapping a few more buttons. A padded metal arm swiveled above Sin's head and caught the back of his skull, pushing his muzzle further into the hole, padded rollers on the sides guided him in the last few centimeters.
His breaths turned shallow and quick, sounding hollow inside the machine. Grainy red light flooded his vision briefly, and fear rose to almost the highest it could go, he wondered if he was about to get burned. Anything but that. But it wasn't the color of hot metal, nor did it have the smell of heat.
A paw took his own and he knew instantly that it was Mist holding his hand. Confidence rushed into his mind, the strength of his brother somehow entering in his thoughts, an unspoken language communicated purely by touch.
"I want you to remember this moment forever, Sinclair. This marks the end of control you have over yourself." What could that mean?
A few beeps, and something slid into his right nostril. He squeezed Mist's paw tightly, but not so tight as to hurt. Pain lanced inside his head as a metal squeal ground away, forced into his skull. He swallowed and then tasted blood, fear climbed onto the highest peg in his mind, he was ready to piss himself. His paws jerked forward to fight the machine, to stop it, oh, stop it!
"Mist, if he touches this equipment, it's your ass that will pay. I'll make last year's broken arm look like a love tap, I swear to you."
Firm paws took each of his own, squeezing his hands tightly while a horrible crunching ensued, Sin coughed and tried as hard as he could not to panic. His eyes poured tears as a ripping, gnashing sound penetrated his skull, and his world exploded into pain unlike any he'd ever felt. Pain from the inside. His paws went limp and he collapsed, sounds turned hollow and faded into the barest of existence, a loud ringing filled his ears.
Time ceased all meaning. An eternity passed by, then Sir's voice snapped him back to reality.
"What the fuck, did that asshole sell me junk? I can't get a connection... MIST ! Help him walk. We're leaving."
His eyes wouldn't open, at first. Nothing worked, reality was only vague and fuzzy. His muzzle felt heavy and sore, his nose was numb. He wiped wetness from it, and smelled burned blood. He stumbled, leaning against Mist as they caught up to Sir. His collar felt too tight, like it was cutting off the blood to his head. It did that a lot, lately.
Bright colors drifted into his vision and scattered to the edges, he held his paws up, thinking Sir had punched him in the head. Normally that was the only time he saw stars like that, but Sir was a meter ahead, and walking quickly. Mist kept pulling at his paws. "Come on..." he urged.
Rich music surrounded him, and he looked around wildly as the colors coated various objects, enveloping them, flashing to make them stand out.
A chorus sang: "Innngennn."
The sign on a pole to his left shot visible energy waves toward him, and the pole lit up brighter than anything he had ever seen. Even with his eyes shut, as he walked by, the pole stood out like a beacon, moving just like his eyes were open. Jagged symbols surrounded it.
"Now passing public transit pickup station EX-NINE-DEE-FOUR." A male voice, like a ghost in his mind. Sin shuddered and wondered what new torture this was. He felt glad Mist didn't get whatever Sir put in his brain. Even with his ears flat, there was no way to prevent it from reaching them. He couldn't help it, he began to cry.
"Initialization timeout reached. Are you having difficulty reading? Would you like a reading literacy tutorial? I can assist with a partial download of reading comprehension into your frontal cortex. Select nothing, and I will proceed."
Sin continued to silently cry as his brother led him along, not understanding this new horror... waiting for it to end.
It did mark an ending, but not of what he expected.