Someone mentioned a corrupted!Henrik stealing organs and I just hhh
If you have any questions about the concept of my anti “corrupting” people, hmu! its kinda complicated
Henrik’s dark eyes flickered slowly upward as he heard the silence of the operating room broken by quiet shifting behind him. It didn’t matter. He had built this place himself, using equipment he had collected here and there. The soundproof walls were all custom-made, too, after Sean’s little incident. No one was going to hear anything.
God, his head hurt.
“W-Where am I?” came a weak, bleary voice from behind him and he inhaled deeply through his nose, eyes flickering back down to the tray of tools he was organizing.
The woman on the operating table shifted again, more forcefully this time, but he didn’t think she’d figured out she was restrained yet.
“If you struggle too much you’re going to hurt yourself,” Henrik noted. His tone was smooth and even as he turned one of his newly-sterilized scalpels in his hand.
“Wha-what’s going on?” she asked, voice already wavering with a coming onslaught of tears. “Please--”
Henrik slowly turned, reaching up with one hand to smooth back his hair as he moved closer to the table and into the light. Her eyes fell on him, glistening with tears of terror and she fell silent.
“What?” Henrik asked, a smile twitching on his face. He couldn’t help it. “You didn’t expect me to be handsome, did you?”
“I, I want to go h-home,” she whimpered, yanking again at the restraints. Henrik’s eyes flickered over her as she struggled. “What are you g-going to do to me?”
Her fear was rational, he supposed. Even with the drugs she was alert enough to realize the gravity of the situation.
“I’m sure you have plenty of ideas,” Henrik mused, running his thumb thoughtfully over his bottom lip as he pushed the tray of tools closer to the table. Her eyes followed him frantically. “I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”
At this point it was just theater. Slight of hand. Keep talking and they won’t notice the anesthesia till the mask is shoved in their face.
“Do you know the best way to make money?” he asked her. His dark eyes seemed almost friendly at this point, crinkled in a smile as he watched her squirm. “I think about this a lot. It’s why I became a doctor. You can make a fortune putting people back together, but do you know what? You can make even more pulling them apart. A kidney can sell for a million dollars, and that’s just legally.”
Her sobs became strange, strangled groans and her head fell back onto the table, eyes darting across the ceiling. A dribble of snot clung to her upper lip.
Henrik pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, giving it a shake to open it before he reached over to wipe her nose, a sigh escaping his pursed lips. “Do you think if Marvin knew what I was up to, he’d actually kill me this time?” he asked, mostly to himself. “God. He’s come close so many times. Only when I’m wearing Chase... I think I’ll be all right.”
What was he saying? Christ, he could barely think past the buzzing in his ears.
“W-What are you talking about?” she pleaded through gasps for air. Henrik chuckled, folding the handkerchief and shaking his head. His hand went to the anesthesia ventilator on the table next to him, too subtly for her to notice. She was still staring at his face like eventually they’d bond emotionally or something.
"I wonder if this is fate,” Henrik murmured. “Every event in your life leading up to this one moment. Does that make you question your choices?”
“You, you seem like a kind man,” she started, tripping over every word in desperation. “I know you just, you just want to help people--”
This could be interesting. He leaned down so that his elbow was on the table, eyes narrowing as he stared right past hers and into her soul. The other hand reached out, absentmindedly tracing the lines of incision on her abdomen. “You really think so?”
“I do! I r-really do.” Her breath hitched in fear but her survival instincts were kicking in. It really sounded like she meant it. “I think, I think you can help a lot of people s-sir, I think you can, can make good choices if you want to.”
Henrik’s nostrils flared a little, almost in exhilaration. His soft, dark eyes were still following his fingers, almost distractedly. “I wish that were true,” he murmured. “Not a lot of people have faith in me like you do.”
A high-pitched sob threatened to escape through her nose but she swallowed it down, nodding. “I really d-do.”
Henrik smiled at her, pushing himself back up to his feet and scrunching his nose in a sigh. “You’re a rare soul,” he remarked, almost to himself. He turned to his tray of tools, his fingers hovering over them thoughtfully. “I want you to do me a favor.”
“W-What is it?” she sniffled. Poor thing.
“I want you to pray to someone for me,” Henrik said, finally turning away from the tray and picking up the ventilator mask instead.
“Pray?” She watched him approach with growing apprehension, her eyes widening when she saw the mask in his hand. “W-wait--”
“That’s right,” Henrik confirmed softly, like speaking to a child. “I want you to pray to a god called Mhar. He’ll hear you. I don’t care what you say, I just want him to hear you, can you do that?”
She didn’t reply but instead began to thrash in her bonds as he approached, turning her head violently with a weak cry as he tried to place the mask on her face. Resigned he reached out, grabbing her jaw to steady it and pushed the mask over her mouth and nose.
The hissing of the ventilator was the only noise in the room for a moment. Her eyes were locked onto him, desperate and terrified all at once. She was really trying to make him regret this. Stupid bitch.
“Actually,” Henrik said with a click of his tongue. “Tell him how you feel. You feel scared, right?”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. He could feel her terror radiating off of her. She closed her eyes tight, her mouth moving in silent words of desperation, but it only took a few more seconds for the drugs to kick in.
He watched all her features finally relax, feeling a shiver down his spine as he felt her soul begin to flicker out like a dying candle.
“You know the feeling, don’t you,” Henrik murmured in calm satisfaction, the corner of his mouth turning up despite himself. He knew who was listening.
With a stretch he finally let the mask fall, flexing his fingers a little. “I hope you behave yourself after this, Marvin,” he said, louder now. “I could’ve made her beg you for help while I cut her open.”
(FINALLY FINISHED THIS OLD DRAFT)