Chapter Text
This was certainly not how Brett pictured his Friday going. It had been a seemingly simple task; the team was assigned to go to a party and be friendly with some reptoids to make amends. Easy! Parties were his thing, after all—or at least they used to be back in his Yale days. Sure, it went a little off track after meeting with his old frat bros, and even more off track with the rats, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. However after being chased by the police it became clear that Reagan managed to have an even worse time.
"Order in the court," Judge Judy spoke loud and clear, her voice curt.
"Reagan, you are standing before us for your crimes against Reptoid's. How do you plead?"
"I plead guilty, your honor."
Now that was a shock. To see Reagan just accept defeat was not something he was used to. Still, it wasn’t like this was something they couldn’t handle. InCognito was a powerful agency, surely things could be sorted out. However, the more Brett listened the more he felt his heart sink. The only reason the incident even occurred was because of him, that was becoming glaringly obvious. He was the one meant to give the speech, not her, and it was only because of his absence that she was even put in that situation. He was the one who who should be taking the punishment for this, no one else. Guilt twisted in his stomach like a snake, and without warning, he jumped to his feet.
"It was my fault this happened."
Brett’s words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was immediate, all other protests ceasing.
"What was that?" Judge Judy’s icy voice cut through the air like a knife. She turned in his direction, eyes hard and emotionless. The disdain on her face was clear, which did nothing to stop the growing pit of fear that had taken root in his stomach. He could feel the blood in his veins freeze to ice.
"I made her the arms." Brett knew Reagan was looking at him, shaking her head to stop, but he pressed forward.
"I was just trying to be helpful, but I must have made a mistake and they malfunctioned. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t messed up."
The silence continued, his words left hanging in the air, a confession that could not be taken back. It was Judge Judy who broke it.
"What is your name?"
Despite his growing fear, Brett looked up, attempting to make eye contact.
"Brett."
"Very well, Brett. Thank you for bringing that to our attention." She paused for a second, clearly thinking. "In light of this new information, Reagan will no longer be punished for her crimes against the senator."
Brett lit up, relief plastered on his face. He looked up quickly, trying to meet Reagan’s eyes. Everything was going to be okay. She was going to be okay. However, this fragile sense of peace did not last long.
"Brett Hand, as punishment for your crime, the court orders that you take Reagan’s place. For your crimes against the senate, I sentence you to have your arms removed."
That’s when time truly froze.
"The hell he will!" Reagan shouted, quick to start moving toward Judge Judy. She didn’t get far before a guard grabbed her by the elbow, and the court erupted into chaos around them. Brett was surprised to see the rest of the gang spring into action. Glenn, yelling several things that had to be slurs, pulled out a gun but was immediately tackled to the ground by another guard. Gigi shot up, yelling at the judge, commanding her to listen to reason. Andre seemed to be frozen to his chair, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. Even Myc joined in, but it wasn’t enough. Brett could hardly hear the shouting over the increasingly loud ringing noise that had started to consume his head. None of this seemed real. It couldn’t be. It was only when two guards approached, grabbing his arms and started dragging him backwards, that the panic began to set in. He could have fought back, maybe even gotten away, but he didn’t dare to try. If by some miracle Brett escaped the punishment, it would just fall back on Reagan, and he would never let that happen. She was the most important member of their group, a legit genius who had the whole world laid out in front of her. Brett was a nobody; he had no input to give and, more importantly, he had no impact. This would hurt, sure, but it wouldn’t affect the people around him. However, if Reagan was hurt all of InCognito would surely crumble. Besides, there was no fight in him—just an aching cold that had started to spread, numbing his body and mind. Brett managed to lift his head, making eye contact with Reagan. She was being restrained by several guards, spitting curses at each of them and when she looked over her desperation was clear. Tears hung on her eyelashes, threatening to overspill. This is the first time he had seen her cry, the first time he'd seen her looking so desperate, no longer in control of the situation. He gave a weak attempt at a smile. She needed to know she was going to be okay.
The metal door slammed shut between them, the sound ringing out in the otherwise empty hallway. The air here felt stale, and the cold was noticeable. It didn’t look like they were at Yale anymore, but somewhere else—somewhere old and unforgiving. Brett let himself be dragged down the old stone hallway, if he did his best to cooperate maybe just maybe they would reconsider. The walk seemed to take a considerable amount of time but was probably only a few minutes before they arrived at their destination. One of the guards stopped, knocking a pattern on a seemingly random door before they dragged him inside. The bright light was blinding in comparison to the dark, and Brett’s vision swam. He was immediately set down on something cold and hard—probably a metal table. It took a minute before the spots cleared and the surroundings came into focus. This was a room he was not familiar with, it was small, with all kinds of medical equipment lying around and not much else. This must be the surgery room. Looking to his side he could see two reptoids stood off to the side, both of them wearing scrubs. The guards continued to manhandle him, first tying his feet down before harshly grabbing both arms and pulling them away from his sides before doing the same however despite everything, Brett was proud of his ability to stay relatively calm. However, that quickly changed when something behind him whirred to life. There wasn’t much room for movement, and he was barely able to see over his shoulder, but it was enough to unravel the façade he was trying so hard to hold onto. It was a saw. Rusty, yet obviously sharp. And as it slowly moved toward his right shoulder, he had a terrifying realization: they were going to do it while he was awake. The slow movement picked up, going faster and faster until it was a blur. Cold metal cut through his skin, then his flesh—slicing through it easily. All Brett could do was scream. This was agony: inhumane and depraved. The torment was unbearable, and as the blade met bone, a flood of blinding-hot pain filled his every sense. Everything else died away, leaving nothing but suffering and a body that was struggling to survive. Brett could barely stay conscious, writhing on the table, his screams completely ignored. None of it mattered. They just kept going. It was only when the black spots in his eyes threatened to take over that he could feel something fall. The grinding noise stopped, but the pain remained. It was everywhere, boring down into his senses until it was the only thing he could feel. And still, it went on.
Brett could feel his body give out as soon as the blade began to tear through his other arm, and darkness swallowed him whole.