capeandcowllogs | I've got to medicate myself;

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I've got to medicate myself;

WHO: NORMAN OSBORN and ANGELICA EINSTÜRZEN
WHERE: NOHoPE.
WHEN: Saturday, late afternoon.
WARNINGS: Nothing dire, but the people who are involved should be warning enough.
SUMMARY: Norman sees shadows and must suffer treatment.
FORMAT: Paragraph.

He'd awoken to the thin silhouette of a woman cast over him, shadow laying over his face and cutting against the wall. He could feel it the way someone feels eyes upon them, but when Norman Osborn opened his eyes, he was looking at the clean, white ceiling. No one was there.

But sitting up, he could see that they were. There she was, moving closer as if to sit beside him on the bed, reaching for him with limbs that clung to the walls. "Emily," he murmured, "Cool it."

The hours didn't pass easily. More shadows crawled about him, trapped in the cell as he was. He recognized Donald Menken, sitting by him, he recognized his own Harry sitting with Emily. But there was another silhouette he couldn't quite place -- they darted around the room, pointing to Norman and swiping at the air, restless and angry. Norman closed his eyes against him, but he could hear them whispering. He could feel them flitting around by the way the light vanished in blinks across his eyelids. At first they were innocuous, but Norman could see them getting more frantic, more restless, running their wispy spidery fingers upon him.

He covered his ears, breathing quickly. "Go away. All of you! OUT." His voice and his demands got louder as the shadows clung.

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It was surprisingly convenient, being dead. She existed like a ghost-- no one searched for her, watched her, expected her. With Slade's aid, it was a simple matter of careful timing to enter the hospital unnoticed by the residents and employees. Passing through the hallway where she'd been murdered hardly made her flinch. Dr. Einstürzen was here on business, and there was little time for reminiscing.

There was a patient she had to tend to. A special someone. She lingered outside the door to Norman Osborn's room for a moment, listening to the sounds inside. She could hear his voice. Slowly, a snake's smile spread across her face. The good doctor let herself in.

The door shut heavily behind her.

"Hush now, Mr. Osborn."

Her voice cut through all the others, snapping Norman's attention. He looked over at Angelica, removing his hands from his face. Aside from the sweat that clung to his forehead and temples, he did not otherwise look anything but calm -- though his heartbeat would betray that notion. The shadows, all four of them, draped over his body abstractly.

Still, he stared. "Doctor," he said, finally, "I see you've made it back in one piece."

Her eyes were calculating, unblinking. She had been keeping a watchful eye on the Network during her absence; she'd read the various reports of strange happenings, ghosts and shadows. It seemed that patients of the hospital were no exception, none were to be spared. It was a fascinating phenomenon to observe firsthand.

Angelica paused to clinically make a note of it, neat cursive words in her notebook. She did not otherwise acknowledge the presence of those four shadows. Perhaps it was a tactic for manipulation, perhaps it was simply that she didn't have time for the Porter's nonsense.

"As a matter of fact, I am still quite dead, Mr. Osborn," she responded mildly, "Nevertheless, I believe you require my special attention." Another pause, then perhaps with a vague air of condescension under her pleasantness, she went on, "How are you feeling?"

Narrowing his eyes, Norman move his arm so as to brush the shadows off him -- it didn't work, they slid against his skin unfazed -- as he kept his eyes on Angelica. He stood, bringing himself from below her level onto more equal ground.

"I'm feeling perfectly fine," he said, rather bluntly. Almost angrily, but the tone was not quite there. "Don't expend the energy. I don't require anything at the moment besides privacy."

Angelica smiled again. The expression pulled the corners of her mouth upwards, showing just enough teeth that it seemed more vaguely unnerving than reassuring. That smile didn't remotely touch her eyes.

"You seem agitated, Mr. Osborn," she answered, her voice still ever mild. "Perhaps I should increase the dosage of your sedative." The absent tapping of her pen against her notebook, her face taking on an almost mockingly thoughtful look. "Or perhaps some alternative therapy?"

Taking a step back towards his bed, Norman raised on arm in a gesture to ward her off. His expression only got darker, lips peeling back to a snarl. He wasn't going to attack her, but he was more than prepared to struggle if necessary. The worst thing about this place were the treatments -- Norman didn't intend to make a single one of them easy.

"If you brought me a book, I think that would do," he said, watching her pen. "I don't need therapy."

The good doctor made a light sound of acknowledgment, jotting something down neatly as Norman spoke. She seemed to take great care in finishing whatever thought she'd had before glancing up, responding in that clinically mild tone of hers.

"I thought we agreed that everything had to be done in your best interest. Isn't that right?" Another frigid smile. "Your mental state is clearly fragile. Don't you want to get better?" Her smile grew at the edges, getting just faintly sharp. "You should listen to me, Norman. I'm your doctor."

"This," he said, incredulously, "is in my best interests? None of this is in my best interests, Einstürzen." His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't sit down, didn't take his eyes away from her.

"Where are you planning on taking me?"

"Shh."

Angelica pressed one of six long fingers to her own mouth, as if shushing a small child. The gesture was somewhere between motherly and condescending. She stepped closer, tilted her head towards him just slightly, and spoke quietly, as if sharing a special secret.

"Don't fuss now. We mustn't make it more difficult than it has to be, hm? Cooperate with me, Mr. Osborn, and this won't hurt a bit."

He leveled his gaze with hers, still frowning. He didn't move, though if there was another door between them he would have slammed it shut at this moment. She repulsed him -- pure and simple. Very attractive, but Norman disliked women like her. Patronizing, cruel, intelligent --

She was far too much like himself. And that made her position as his doctor all the more distasteful.

Still, he smiled, and took a step closer to meet her. "Very well, Angelica," he said, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

That was the way it often was with Angelica. At first glance, there was something pretty about the lines of her face, something elegant about her slender tallness. She smiled often. But closer inspection gave away the unfriendly edge of that smile, the unnatural way she so rarely blinked, the malicious restlessness of her dozen fingers. And a sharpness to her-- maybe cruelty. Poison.

She smiled again. Cooperation always pleased her. She did so enjoy obedience-- voluntary when she could have it, forced if not. That was what the syringe of sedative in her white physician's coat was for, after all.

"If you please, Mr. Osborn." She opened the door, gesturing for him to walk ahead of her. Their window of time was narrow. It was important to stay on schedule, if she was to stay dead to the public. "This will be over before you know it."

Tightly lipped, Norman followed her steps, walking closely. Coming voluntarily was irritating but preferable to being subject to submission, drugged and dragged against his will. They wouldn't do anything to him here that he did not allow.

"This 'alternative therapy'," he said, resting his hand on her arm with the deliberate intention to irritate, "why don't you tell me a bit more about what exactly you have in mind."

There was a moment where tension pulled every muscle in Angelica's arm tight as a violin string and her eyes narrowed into slivers of frigid blue. Her stare was blatantly hateful. There was nothing she loathed more than an intelligent man-- especially not one who ever thought he could manipulate her. To be so bold as to touch her without her permission--

But the moment passed. Angelica merely offered another frosty smile.

"Consider it a surprise, Mr. Osborn." She paused outside a heavy door, unlocking it before pushing it open. "I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

The room was dark, no windows and the lights still off. Still, there was no mistaking a ominous chair with thick straps in the very center.

"Please. Make yourself comfortable."

That reaction was what Norman had been hoping for. Smiling peacefully, pretending he didn't notice, he kept his hand at rest on her arm and followed. He only moved it when she stopped walking, and crossed his arms over his chest instead.

His eyes moved slowly over the chair, his reaction impossible to disguise; disgust, curiosity, and unease. It reminded him of something out of one of his old warehouses -- a chair to bind and hold prey.

He took a step backward.

"What is this for?"

"Treatment," Angelica responded briskly, absently straightening the sleeve of her white physician's jacket. "You wouldn't want me to hurt you, now would you, Mr. Osborn? My hand could accidentally slip if you don't sit still."

It wasn't likely that any pain he might experience would be accidental. The sharp snake-smile on her face made that clear enough.

"Consider it a safety precaution," she went on pleasantly, "You've been so well-behaved. Surely you don't mean to resist me now."

He sneered at her, teeth bared but eyes calm. Norman's hands clenched and unclenched, muscles tense, but he managed to turn his expression into something more resembling a smile.

"How, whoever could resist you, doctor?" He said pleasantly, walking past her toward the chair. He stared at it for a long moment there still, still disinclined to play along. But he sat down, leveling his gaze with hers.

"I would hate to be the first."

The heavy door shut with a decisive thud. Angelica clicked the lock into place. No one would be disturbing their little private therapy session.

She approached the chair and the man seated in it. The look on her face was vaguely pleased, the sort of look you might give a well-behaved pet. Obedience was something she particularly enjoyed, no matter how reluctant it was -- perhaps especially when it was reluctant. Setting her notebook down, Angelica went about the task of fixing the straps around Norman's wrists and ankles, pulling them almost uncomfortably tight.

"This will only take a moment," the good doctor soothed. On the nearby table, a deceptively benign little machine with two electrodes lay waiting. But first -- Angelica went to the counter to prepare a syringe. When she returned, she carefully rolled up Norman's right sleeve with motherly tenderness, humming lightly as she injected clear fluid into the vessels at the crook of his elbow. "A muscle relaxant, and a little atropine, for the salivation."

She'd forgone the usual anesthetic.

The needle made his muscles tense, and Norman hissed through his teeth, looking at her venomously. Had he not been strapped down and sedated, he would have broken through the restraints and snapped her neck then and there. His hands were tense with the desire, but he exhaled slowly, not giving her the pleasure of a struggle.

"How long is this going to take?" He asked warily, eyes resting on the electrodes beside them. He wasn't liking the look of this at all. He had read about electroshock therapy; he knew what it was supposed to do. Supposed to treat, air-quotes and all. His breath quickened.

Edited 2011-01-28 23:47 (UTC)

"Don't be so impatient."

Angelica pulled off one of her gloves to press two fingers to the veins and arteries at Norman's wrist, quiet for a moment as she took his pulse. That too was recorded in her notebook. Only then did she move to the machine, adjusting the knobs and buttons as the thing came to life.

"Relax," she suggested mildly, "Don't resist."

The two electrodes were placed on his temples, on either side of his head, sticking to the skin like suction cups. Again, softly, Angelica hummed a pleasant little waltz as she flipped the switch. Several hundred watts of electricity flowed through the machine to the electrodes for all of three seconds. Only the first dose.

Norman tensed again, before his whole body jerked roughly against the electricity. His teeth sunk into his lower lip, keeping back a yell but letting a thick stream of blood pool down his chin. His fingers clenched and twitched but he kept himself, for the most part, silent.

When the shocks passed, he exhaled. He closed his eyes, jaw set, mouth tasting heavily like copper.

"How. Long. Einstürzen?"

A dark smile blessed Angelica's face. It was different than those cold, polite smiles she often wore-- there was something sincere about it, something frightfully tender and cruel at once. It was a sadist's smile., glowing with pride, as if this were some special experiment producing good results.

"Don't waste your breath," she advised sweetly, reaching over to carefully wipe away the blood. "Didn't I tell you to relax? You really ought to consider it, Norman."

She back away. Flipped the switch again. Five seconds, this time.

The currents jostled through him violently and both of Norman's eyes opened widely, veins starkly visible through his paled skin. He coughed, blood staining his uniform collar.

He wasn't going to stop talking, purely out of defiance. If she was looking for silence or for screams he didn't intend to cooperate.

"What purpose is this supposed to serve?" He hissed through pinkened teeth.

"We're treating you, Mr. Osborn. Don't you remember? This is for your own good."

Her tone was vaguely condescending; her smile was entirely insincere. Her hand lingered over the switch again for a moment, a mock-thoughtful look crossing her face.

After a moment, Angelica asked mildly, "Would you like to stop now?"

"This is not treatment. This is sadism, pure and simple," he hissed, sneering at her. "I'm on medication, aren't I? This just seems unnecessary."

His hair was mussed, some of frizzed from the clinging electricity. His eyes flicked toward her hand, poised at the lever.

"Why are you avoiding my questions, Einstürzen? Answer me."

Angelica's gloved hand slapped against the chair beside Norman's head with a resounding noise, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a displeased line. She leaned close, speaking in precise syllables, each word like a quiet threat of its own.

"I grow tired of this informality, Mr. Osborn. You really should refer to me as Doctor." Her voice was subtly edged. "As for your questions, I dismiss them because they are unimportant. Everything will be clear to you in due time."

She backed away. "I'll ask you again. Would you like to stop?"

He sneered at her again, teeth bared rebelliously. He ran his tongue over his chin, mopping up what blood he could. He listened to her, closely and carefully, leaning as close to her as his restraints would allow not unlike a feral angry dog, yanking at its chains.

"Einstürzen," he repeated, eyes cold, large, and perhaps noticeably un-Norman. "Would my word really make you stop? Would my requesting -- and believe me, I am not going to beg you -- you unstrap me make even an ounce of difference?"

Angelica stared back, eyes alight with something like curiosity, maybe almost fascination. This had turned out to be more interesting than she'd hoped. She felt a twinge of excitement -- it was always so nice when they fought and struggled, even better than just screaming and crying and begging. That was just disappointing.

"We learn through experimentation, do we not?" she asked in return, circling around as if to get a better look at him, to observe from all angles. Like she was trying to place what she sensed as different now. "Perhaps you ought to ask me and find out for yourself."

Norman's arms tensed more at their restraints, more restless than before. The manner he moved was just slightly different; more ragged, more savage. He made a noise in the back of his throat, fingers digging at the chair.

"I'm not an experiment of yours, oh, no no no," he said, shaking his head. "Zap me, dissect me, it won't make a difference. You don't know what you're doing. A chemist mixing blind, trying to find the right combination."

His teeth cut into a slick grin as he spoke, intentionally hoping to provoke her. His mind had bypassed rationalized bargaining -- if it didn't work, it didn't work. He would feel around for her buttons until he found one.

"But not knowing which ones are going to explode."

Savage. There was, at her core, something in Angelica Einstürzen that yearned for savagery. The same part of her that took children and turned them into monsters, pitted them against each other in bloody battle until only the strongest, the most vicious were left standing in crimson glory--

But she was letting herself get carried away. That was a dangerous thing. The situation required control.

Angelica tapped her fingers against her lower lip, agitated.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Osborn. I know precisely what I'm doing." She drifted closer, lowering her voice. Watching unblinkingly. "You should be quiet now."

"No," he said, adamantly. His eyes were manic, frantic, fixated on her. "I won't be quiet. What then? You know," they darted from her for a moment, thoughtfully regarding his captive wrists, "No matter what you do to me here, I'm the one who knows where I'll be at the end of this. I'm the one who gets to be alive. What can you do to me beyond pain?"

Norman laughed -- bitter and piercing. It didn't have the dry amusement that it would normally, nor was it patronizing. It was sincere, almost pleased. He looked at her, daring her to call his bluff.

Something about that laugh grated on Angelica's nerves. She was in a state somewhere between excitement and agitation, both which required a tight leash. The woman was well-aware of her various neuroses, her little ticks. The disobedience-- that always struck a mild nerve. Men and boys, they never wanted to listen, did they?

"Perhaps the pain will be more than sufficient," Angelica responded lightly. The pleasantness of her voice was betrayed by the way her oddly-numbered fingers fidgeted restlessly, the mad glint to her stare. "I suppose this means you aren't quite ready to stop then, Mr. Osborn."

With an easy movement, she flipped the switch again, activating the electric current. Six seconds.

"Ghhh." Norman inhaled through his teeth, eyes rolling upward. It was a struggle to keep yelling out -- he inhaled sharply, then exhaled, keeping his breath at a rough pace. Six seconds felt like sixty, but when the shocks had ceased Norman looked at her again. The alien lustre that had been in his eyes seemed to have departed, for now.

"I'm not begging for your mercy," he hissed. "Who put you up to this? Surely I haven't insulted you personally. Nothing I've done to you warrants such attention."

"It's curious that you think you are in any position to ask me questions, Mr. Osborn." Angelica smiled pleasantly, showing her teeth. "I'll let you consider the matter for yourself. Something to keep you busy while you sit in your cell."

She came closer, placed a six-fingered hand on his shoulder and tightened her grip. Surprisingly strong, for such slender hands.

"Are you going to behave yourself if I let you up?"

Norman chuckled dryly, breathing slowly. His fingers clenched again into his palm, not looking at her for a few moments. He didn't flinch when she touched his shoulder, though he let his eyes slide easily over first her hand, her arm, and then he met her own eyes.

"I'm the portrait of good behavior, doctor."

Her stare continued to be unblinking. She had used variations on that particular line plenty of times herself. She doubted the sincerity of it. But time was of the essence. Treatment couldn't carry on forever.

"I had hoped you would say so, Mr. Osborn."

Angelica moved to remove the electrodes and loosen the tight straps.

Once freed, Norman rubbed his raw wrists, keeping his eyes leveled on Angelica with caution. He smiled, and stood, baring his teeth just a fraction.

"Then I take it we're done here."

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I've got to medicate myself;

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