WASP [bnha reader insert] [gender neutral]

Part twenty two [hysteria]

Everything was swimming in your vision as if you were in the midst of an ocean sinking deeper and deeper. A dull ache sizzled at the back of your head like something attached itself to your battered skull and refused to let go.

Someone...someone was next to you, your hand was in theirs, their skin incredibly cold and calloused but nonetheless grounding.

"They really roughed you up huh? They have no mercy for novices, they never had..." You recognized their voice, that person whose hair was clad in dirty blue, they sat next to you in the dusty room you awakened in previously.

"Why are you...here.." You asked but immediately stopped at the end realizing that the person was there before you.

"This is my cell as well." They smiled. "My serial number is 442 but you can call me Henry." With that, they leaned in closer to you and whispered. "But don't use that name in front of the guards, they don't like it when you use actual names."

Henry helped you to sit up, their hands clamped in blood just like before, clothes stained as well.

"Don't worry about it." They assured seeing you stare at their stomach. "It wasn't stitched properly before...I didn't want to say anything about..."

"Why?" You asked with a concerned expression.

"With everything those doctors do in that room, I don't think anyone would want to go back there." They chuckled awkwardly.

Hearing that something in your brain unplugged and memories of what transpired in that hospital-like room began flowing in. You paled in the face suddenly feeling extremely nauseous, placing your palm on your jaggular you massaged the spot.

"They cut it off..." You whispered.

Henry's eyebrows furrowed. "They cut off...what...?"

"My head." You looked up at them with a blank gaze, watching as their eyes widened in horror. "My quirk can heal me...bring me back to life instantly."

In a way you expected 442 to look amazed at your quirk, impressed by it, yet their expression just further twisted into a horrified grimace as if with a single explanation you just announced your own death.

"Oh, God..." They uttered looking down at their bruised up knees. "They are going to exploit that until there's nothing left..."

[...]

If your life was a constant downhill then you have now completely rolled down to the bottom and off of a cliff. You didn't necessarily pity yourself, you saw way too many disfigured kids in the facility and you were more than thankful for your quirk than ever before.

Still, that didn't eliminate the pain you felt with every experiment they conducted on you.

They left no physical mark, not even a stain or a discoloration in your veins which you saw with a lot of other patients. However you quickly found out that that meant simply more tests, more time spent in the sticky hospital room plugged into an iv and injected over and over again.

The pain was excruciating, burning, numbing. Still, they didn't chop off anything of yours...just yet. It looked like whatever they were doing now was a sort of preparation for their later procedures.

And you had a suspicion that the things they were trying to do were...not working as they should.

The two doctors often injected you with things, you whirled in your bed for a couple of minutes consumed by pain before the drug subsided. They checked your vitals, pulled your blood, and took a drop of saliva.