V had a feeling he was going to have to end up proving that his arm and hand were nothing more than robotic limbs attached just above the elbow. It made no sense to him that he'd have to prove something as boring as this but fine. He did decide he would at least let Alec try to pry the door open. If he could avoid having to fuck up his hardware and having to wait for it to self-heal he would certainly prefer that. It'd also be fun to be proven right after being subjected to the horrible fucking metal screech that Alec had just subjected him to.
"What's it matter? Gonna die in here if we can't get out," he said, moving out of Alec's way. "Least if we get out'f here we got a chance to fight through whatever's on the other side of that door."
V motioned for Alec to try his dumb idea, waiting patiently for him to try to pry the door open. V made no effort to help him, nor would he help even if asked. His expression grew smug as Alec continued to struggle to no avail, eventually prompting the question: "Done yet?"
He stood up straight - he might have leaned against the wall while watching Alec struggle - and had to use his self-control not to roll his eyes. "Just to prove I don't got blood vessels in my hands," he started, ending it with a cut across his left palm. He was careful not to cut into the tattoo at the heel of his hand, once his interface to jack into systems. V had planned on immediately shoving his hand at Alec but he found himself stopping. From the moment the blade cut into his hand to the few moments after V had pulled the knife away and he watched the line on his hand grow red he knew something was very, very wrong.
The first thing that was wrong was that the blade cutting into his hand hurt, which it shouldn't. Even in V's dreams (nightmares) he didn't feel pain because he didn't remember what it felt like. He was aware of the pain and that it hurt. Hell, he was aware that this hurt like a bitch because he'd gone so long without feeling it, but it was just that: he was aware of it. It didn't feel like the pain belonged to him, just like he was seeing his own hand bleeding and he was not connecting the dots that the blood was his. The pain was away from him like the way air was electrified before a storm and the blood just... Couldn't be his. This wasn't his hand, wasn't his arm.
He was also distantly aware of the panic that he rightfully should have been feeling but it also felt very far away and like it perhaps wasn't actually his. He could see the way his vision was getting spots and the edges were turning black because of his panic, he could feel his heart rate picking up as adrenaline started to push through his body, but he just couldn't react to it. None of this was a dream, it was all entirely real, and he had no fucking clue whose hand he'd just cut.
V had no clue if Alec was even trying to talk to him. He probably was, honestly - going on about how V had tried to lie his way out of being the one to cut himself, or something. It didn't matter. The body he currently inhabited - not his, it couldn't be, these weren't his arms - moved. It was clear he was going to finish what he started and press his hand to the door unless Alec moved to stop him - which he'd very easily be able to do if he wished.
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"What's it matter? Gonna die in here if we can't get out," he said, moving out of Alec's way. "Least if we get out'f here we got a chance to fight through whatever's on the other side of that door."
V motioned for Alec to try his dumb idea, waiting patiently for him to try to pry the door open. V made no effort to help him, nor would he help even if asked. His expression grew smug as Alec continued to struggle to no avail, eventually prompting the question: "Done yet?"
He stood up straight - he might have leaned against the wall while watching Alec struggle - and had to use his self-control not to roll his eyes. "Just to prove I don't got blood vessels in my hands," he started, ending it with a cut across his left palm. He was careful not to cut into the tattoo at the heel of his hand, once his interface to jack into systems. V had planned on immediately shoving his hand at Alec but he found himself stopping. From the moment the blade cut into his hand to the few moments after V had pulled the knife away and he watched the line on his hand grow red he knew something was very, very wrong.
The first thing that was wrong was that the blade cutting into his hand hurt, which it shouldn't. Even in V's dreams (nightmares) he didn't feel pain because he didn't remember what it felt like. He was aware of the pain and that it hurt. Hell, he was aware that this hurt like a bitch because he'd gone so long without feeling it, but it was just that: he was aware of it. It didn't feel like the pain belonged to him, just like he was seeing his own hand bleeding and he was not connecting the dots that the blood was his. The pain was away from him like the way air was electrified before a storm and the blood just... Couldn't be his. This wasn't his hand, wasn't his arm.
He was also distantly aware of the panic that he rightfully should have been feeling but it also felt very far away and like it perhaps wasn't actually his. He could see the way his vision was getting spots and the edges were turning black because of his panic, he could feel his heart rate picking up as adrenaline started to push through his body, but he just couldn't react to it. None of this was a dream, it was all entirely real, and he had no fucking clue whose hand he'd just cut.
V had no clue if Alec was even trying to talk to him. He probably was, honestly - going on about how V had tried to lie his way out of being the one to cut himself, or something. It didn't matter. The body he currently inhabited - not his, it couldn't be, these weren't his arms - moved. It was clear he was going to finish what he started and press his hand to the door unless Alec moved to stop him - which he'd very easily be able to do if he wished.