The New You, Kid
Jahnny stirred, the edges of consciousness creeping in like a cold draft under a door. His entire body felt heavy, leaden, and his arms ached in a way that told him something wasn’t right. His eyes fluttered open, blurry shapes swimming in the dim light.
The first thing he noticed was the chains. His arms were stretched above his head, his wrists locked in metal cuffs dangling from thick, rusted links. The sharp, chemical tang of antiseptic filled his nostrils, mingling with the scent of burnt metal and old wood. He tried to move, but the chains groaned ominously, holding firm.
“Hello?!” His voice cracked, weak and hoarse. Panic surged through him as he twisted, his body protesting with sharp jolts of pain.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop squirming,” a voice drawled from somewhere behind him. It was high-pitched, slippery, and strangely playful, like someone halfway through a drunken joke.
Jahnny craned his neck, his heart hammering as his vision focused on the source of the voice. A man stood across the room, leaning casually against a table littered with strange instruments. He was tall and boney, his skin pale and his eyes hidden behind a pair of red-tinted aviator sunglasses. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the ash dangerously long, teetering on the edge of falling.
“You’re awake, huh? That’s something,” the man said, pushing off the table with a lazy grace. He walked toward Jahnny, his gait uneven, as though the floor shifted beneath him. Under the leathery apron that hung from his neck down to his knees was a thin tattooed chest and a pair of pants three sizes two big held up by suspenders.
“W-where am I?” Jahnny stammered, his throat dry and his voice trembling.
The man grinned, showing teeth slightly too white to feel natural. “Where are you?” he echoed, his tone theatrical, as though he were hosting a game show. “Well, my little friend, you’re somewhere between alive and dead, between hell and the waiting room of the ER.”
He gestured grandly at the space around them. Jahnny’s eyes darted to the rest of the room, taking in the odd setup. It was a warehouse, clearly abandoned, with crumbling walls and exposed beams. But someone—no, this man—had turned it into a bizarre makeshift lab.
Strange machines hummed quietly in the corners, their blinking lights casting eerie dancing shadows. Tables were piled high with tangled wires, broken monitors, and jars filled with unidentifiable substances. The walls were lined with chipped, crumbled posters of half-naked women and vintage cars, as though someone had tried to decorate a morgue like a teenager’s bedroom.
“W-why am I here?” Jahnny managed to choke out.
The man paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, as though pondering an existential question. “Well, you’re here because I found you. Or rather, you found me. Well, not directly—your mangled little body was basically dumped at my feet by fate. You see, I’m the lucky guy who decided to save your sorry ass.”
Jahnny’s heart sank as the words sank in. “Save me?”
The man nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash onto the exposed mud floor. “Oh, yes. You were in pieces, kid. Pieces. Bones shattered like a ceramic piggy bank at a frat party. Blood leaking out of you like cheap whiskey through a busted flask.”
He moved closer, peering at Jahnny over the rim of his glasses. His eyes, small and darting, carried a gleam of blood shot manic energy. “Honestly, I was impressed you were even breathing when I found you. But that’s where I come in, my boy. I’ve got the skills, the tools, the magic touch to patch you up.”
Jahnny swallowed hard. “What did you do to me?”
The man leaned in, his grin widening as he reached up and tapped Jahnny’s arm lightly with his finger. “Oh, not much. Just stitched you back together with some borrowed tech. Let’s call it… experimental medicine.”
“Why am I chained up?” Jahnny asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The man rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. You think I’m stupid? You’ve got that look. The scrappy little fighter. The runner. Last thing I need is you bolting out of here before I’m done with you.”
Jahnny’s stomach churned. “Done with me? What do you mean?”
“Relax, kid,” the man said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m not some weirdo. Well, not in that way. I just need to make sure you’re stable before I cut you loose. You’re a bit of a science project now, and I like my projects to succeed.”
Jahnny struggled against the chains again, but his strength was gone. The man tilted his head, watching him with a mixture of amusement and pity.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, stepping back toward his table. “Pain, fear, confusion—it’s all part of growing up. But hey, you’re alive, kid. That’s better than most. Huh!?”
As the man fiddled with a strange device on the table, Jahnny’s gaze drifted to a nearby reflective surface. His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of himself for the first time. His arms were bandaged from wrist to shoulder, and patches of his skin were discolored and raw.
“I did what I could,” the man said without looking up. “But there’s only so much a body can handle. You’re alive, though. That’s what counts.”
Jahnny’s vision blurred as tears welled up. He wanted to scream, to fight, but he was too weak, too broken. The man’s voice cut through his despair, sharp and unwavering.
“Welcome to the new you, kid. You’re gonna hate it here.”
Jahnny blinked awake, his mind sluggish but swirling with unease. He couldn’t move—his body felt like it had turned to stone. His breath hitched as he realized he was no longer hanging from chains but strapped to a cold, flat surface. His wrists and ankles were secured with tight leather straps, and a faint hum filled the air.
“Ah, you’re back with us!” came the now-familiar voice. The man’s peculiar cadence filled the room, chipper and detached, as if this were just another Tuesday for him.
Jahnny tried to speak, but his mouth barely moved, his tongue heavy and uncooperative. The only sound he managed was a soft, garbled whimper.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” He said, leaning into view. His red-tinted glasses reflected the flickering overhead lights, and his grin was as crooked as ever. “You’re feeling all numb and fuzzy. That’s the good stuff, kid. Paralytics mixed with just enough of my special cocktail to keep you awake but oh-so-very still. Quite the ride, huh?!” The man said contorting his face into a wicken cartoonish smile.
He held up a syringe filled with an iridescent liquid, twirling it between his fingers like a baton. “I call this little beauty ‘Sandman’s Whisper.’ It’s not FDA-approved, but then again, neither am I.”
Jahnny’s eyes darted frantically around the room. He couldn’t turn his head, but he caught glimpses of metallic instruments glinting in the dim light, strange machines with tubes and blinking lights, and jars filled with odd, glowing substances.
“Relax, relax,” The stranger cooed, placing a hand on Jahnny’s forehead. “You’re in the capable hands of yours truly, James Philip-Charles Wolfegang the Third.” He paused, theatrically pointing a finger at the ceiling. “That’s Doctor James Philip-Charles Wolfegang the Third, in case you’re wondering. And yes, I gave myself the title. Credentials are for cowards!”
Jahnny wanted to scream, but his throat was a silent prison. His eyes widened as he heard the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against metal—a scalpel, perhaps, or something worse.
“Oh, don’t look so worried. James has it all under control,” the man said, slipping effortlessly into the third person as he arranged his tools. “James has been through worse scrapes than this. Let me tell you a little story, hmm? It’ll take your mind off… well, whatever it is you’re imagining right now.”
He chuckled, the sound low and conspiratorial. “So, there I was, working for ZerdinTech. Big, fancy corporation. Cutting-edge stuff. Genetic engineering, nanotech, neural implants—you name it, we did it. But James? James had a vision.”
Jahnny’s ears picked up a faint, wet sound—something being placed on a tray.
“See, James doesn’t just stop at boring things like fixing broken bones or curing diseases. Oh no. James goes deeper. Souls, kid. That’s what I was working on. The stuff that makes us us.”
His voice took on a dreamy quality, as though he were recounting a fond memory. “You ever think about what happens when you die? Where your little spark of life goes? Well, James thought about it a lot. Thought, ‘Hey, what if we could harness that? Bottle it, tweak it, maybe even stick IT in someone else?’ Imagine the possibilities!”
There was a sharp hiss of air, and Jahnny’s body jolted slightly. He felt a faint tugging sensation in his abdomen, though he couldn’t see what was happening.
“Turns out,” James continued, unfazed, “corporate overlords don’t like it when you start tinkering with the afterlife. Something about ‘ethical boundaries’ and ‘violating human dignity.’ Pfft. Small-minded fools.”
Jahnny’s heart pounded in his chest, the only part of him that seemed to move freely. He listened in mounting horror as James’s words spilled out in a torrent.
“So, James gets the boot. Kicked out, blacklisted, called a ‘danger to humanity.’ Can you believe it? Me?” He barked a laugh, slamming his fist lightly on the table. “But you know what? Screw ’em. James doesn’t need their shiny labs and endless funding. James makes do with what he’s got!”
There was a clink of glass, and James’s voice softened, almost tender. “And then… there’s you, kid. My latest little experiment. A real diamond in the rough. You were broken, busted, bleeding out. But James? James saw potential. You’re my canvas, Jahnny.”
Jahnny’s mind reeled as the words sank in. He could feel his body being shifted slightly, something cold and sharp brushing against his skin.
“Now, don’t get me wrong,” James said, his tone light but tinged with a hint of menace. “This isn’t just about saving your life. No, no, no. This is about pushing boundaries, breaking barriers. You’re going to be special, kid. Better, stronger, maybe even… indestructible.”
There was a sudden snap of metal, and Jahnny flinched as best he could. James let out a satisfied hum, his cigarette dangling precariously from his lips.
“Almost done here. Just a few more tweaks, and you’ll be good as new. Well, better than new, really. James doesn’t do things halfway.”
Jahnny felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple, his terror mounting as the reality of his situation became clearer with every word.
“There we go,” James said finally, stepping back with a flourish. “Another masterpiece by the great Doctor James. You’ll thank me later, kid. Or maybe not. Either way, you’re alive. For now.”
The hum of the machines around them grew louder, and Jahnny’s vision began to blur again as the drugs coursing through his veins pulled him back into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was James muttering to himself, his voice equal parts giddy and ominous.
“Now, let’s see what you’re really made of…”
Jahnny’s world dissolved into a haze of fractured moments. Time became meaningless, a blur of dim lights and muffled sounds that felt both endless and fleeting. He faded in and out of consciousness, each return to awareness a cruel reminder of his fragile state.
Sometimes, he felt nothing at all, his body a distant memory as the drugs coursing through his veins dulled every sensation. Other times, the pain hit like a tidal wave, sharp and unrelenting, consuming him whole. His skin burned, his bones ached, and his very soul seemed to scream in protest. In those moments, he begged silently for the darkness to take him, for oblivion to sweep him away from this waking nightmare.
James’s voice punctuated the void, his words strange and nonsensical, like a mad poet reciting riddles. “Progress is pain, kid,” he’d say, or “You’ll thank me later, I promise—if you survive, that is.”
Jahnny had no sense of how long he endured this torment. Days? Weeks? Maybe longer. Each time he surfaced, the world around him was slightly different—a new machine humming, a different jar of glowing liquid on the table, James muttering to himself like a man possessed.
And through it all, Jahnny could only drift, a broken child caught in a current he couldn’t escape.