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[There's no god here, only Jack. Who's fiddling with the melon baller and testing the best way to hold it. He's done his research, at least. He knows more or less that he's doing.]

Deep breaths. This is gonna hurt. And probably feel really weird.

[Jack stands over the other man, lips pursed together in thought. It's weird, looking down at his own face like this, knowing what he's about to do. He hesitates a moment, reluctant to destroy something he loves so much...]

[But there's no choice, in his mind. Not with his own face a marked, one-eyed mess. They both have to match.]

[Jack's free hand covers the left side of his double's face, and he uses his fingers to hold open the other man's eyelid. He's straddling the other man, head tilted to compensate for his own skewed vision.]

Deep breath.

[He's not sure if that's for him or the guy who's about to get an orbital enucleation. He does take a deep breath of his own as he begins to slide the metal edge of the melon baller between Timothy's eyeball and socket.]

[There really wasn't any preparing for this. Even if he'd actually tried and, well, he didn't... couldn't, really. It would've pointless. He realizes that as soon as the pain hits.]

Fuck!

[And boy. Does it hit.

The feeling is wrong, so wrong, his whole body is yelling at him to do something. But he can't. All he can do is sit there and hope he just passes out already.]

I know, I know.

[Well, not really, but Jack can imagine. He's scooped out enough live eyeballs to know it's not a fun thing to go through. Even if he's being careful and precise, wielding the kitchen tool like he would a pen laser on a piece of delicate circuitry. Even with that, he's still scooping out the guy's eye with a melon baller.]

[He does have to be careful though, and try and ignore his double's screams of pain. He doesn't want to accidentally damage the nerves behind the eye, he wants it to be a clean procedure. So he has to carefully angle the metal scoop to slide behind Two's eyeball and get a good leverage, but not press on the bundle of sensitive ocular nerves on the string behind it.]

[It's finicky work. And wow, that is a squelching sort of squishy noise. And yup, there's the goop. Just a thin stream of it, trickling down the other man's cheek as Jack starts rotating the scoop, making a full circle around the eye socket. Which is harder than he'd thought, the eye's kind of sucking at the metal. Oh, ew.]

[But when he thinks he's loosened the orb properly, Jack starts applying gentle pressure to the handle of the melon baller, intending to pop the eye cleanly out.]

[God, it hurts. It hurts so much. Tim can barely even follow the whole process, the pain just... too distracting. He's definitely letting out more cries of pain, as... can only be expected. He couldn't stop that if he tried.

The pain isn't distracting enough to prevent him from feeling that... squishing. It sends another surge of pain, obviously, but also nausea. He doesn't want to think about this. The feelings, the sounds... Fuck, just let it be over already. He wonders how far along Jack is, before immediately pushing that thought away. It comes back again anyway.

He doesn't want to think about it, but it's all he can think about.

He's breathing very heavily. He's still awake. Why is he still awake?]

[Jack can feel the eye start to give. Okay.]

I dunno how much you can actually register at this point, but...yeah. The eye's coming out, but it's still attached to the nerve string. You're gonna want to keep your other eye closed, unless you wanna be seeing in two different directions at the same time.

[He really doesn't know if Number Two's in any position to hear him, the way he's making noise. Thank god the basement's insulated and absorbs most sound. He leans forward with a small grunt, adding pressure, and...there it goes. With an unpleasant wet noise, the other man's left eye pops out and rolls gently down his cheek.]

Oh shit, that is super gross.

[He isn't registering much of what Jack's saying, no. The advice of closing his eye... just barely makes it through. And while he's not exactly eager to listen to anything Jack tells him to do right now, he finds himself doing it anyway. Maybe that's just instinct now.

Which might worry him under normal circumstances, but right now, he doesn't really give a shit.

He feels Jack still... working and then suddenly a disgusting feeling and...]

Holy... Holy shit...

[This? This is definitely the most horrifying thing he's ever experienced. And ever will experience, he hopes. Oh god, he wants to throw up right now. His other eye was already closed, but he closes it even tighter, as if somehow that will help. He does his best to... not focus on his vision. But that only brings him closer to the pain and, really, there's no winning here.

Tim might've seemed pale before, but now he's just white as a sheet.]

Oh this is so gross....

[Jack makes a face as he gently cups the dangling eyeball. He exchanges the melon tool for the sharpened kitchen knife and leans in close, inspecting the ropy string of pink that stretches back into the socket. At least this part will be nice and quick.]

Brace yourself, buddy.

[With a flick of his wrist, Jack neatly severs the ocular nerves and the eye falls free into the palm of his hand with a soft wet sound.]

[Tim sucks in a breath at that, as what happens... happens.

He's a mess right now. Everything's just this... haze of pain, intoxication, and panic. It's funny that because of that, the loss of vision barely even registers. It's low on his list of priorities right now, all things considered.

Well. Until the reality of it starts to set in. The realization that he's actually just lost an eye there. Tim tries to breathe evenly, calm himself down if only a little, but it's... honestly wasted effort.

He's only just barely hanging on to consciousness - he's not sure if it's the pain keeping him awake, or if it's adrenaline, or... who knows. Whatever it is, he fucking hates it.]

[Well, that had been disgusting. Even for Jack. Much as he likes carnage and violence, some stuff, up close...just not cool.]

[He lets Two deal with the pain as best he can, dropping the eyeball into a jar of some preservative with a splash. Now he needs to get the brand nice and hot. But that's why he brought his dog down with him.]

[He's got a charcoal grill full of smoldering coals, which he gets Doom Boner to breathe some fresh fire on, getting them blazing hot again. The puppy seems completely unbothered by what's going on around him - it's not like it interrupts his comfortable life any.]

Just hang on, buddy, we're almost done!

[And he's got sleeping pills for Two, in case he doesn't pass out. Once the worst is over, it'll be fine.]

[The coals are a bright red, and Jack thrusts the arched metal brand into them, letting it sit to absorb the searing heat.]

[At this point, Tim's really just... focusing on his breathing. It's better than focusing on the pain. Not that the focus is helping him breathe well or anything, but it's... it's something. His remaining eye is still closed for now and he's not exactly eager to open it again.

He doesn't really register anything else right now, unsurprisingly. He vaguely hears Jack say something, but the words are lost to him right now. And honestly, he doesn't want to think about what Jack might be saying anyway. It's probably not something good. That's always a safe assumption anyway, but especially now.

All he can do is wait for Jack. Isn't that just great?]

[The basement is quiet except for the music and the hiss of coals and metal. And an occasional sleepy snort from Doom Boner. Jack's letting the metal get as hot as it can. Eventually, he takes the wrapped leather handle and removes the bright red bend of metal.]

[No going back now. Not that there ever was, but... this is it. The final act. The last desecration of his god given face.]

[And he's doing it himself.]

[Sighing with a regret that's difficult to put into words, Jack turns back to Number Two. Poor guy. But he'll be fine eventually.]

Hey...still with me? Do not move your face at all. If you do, you'll mess it up, and I'm gonna have to just drive the whole thing into your brain so you wake up at the Poke Center and we can start over.

[Tim opens his eye again when Jack is talking to him, though only slightly. His vision is blurry and hazy and not right, but he doesn't pay attention to that. He's trying to pay attention to the words, because this sounds important and--

Oh Christ.

He wonders if dying really would reset this. If it did, then it'd be better, but god. He still doesn't know if that's at all how it works. And he really, really doesn't want Jack to do... that. Fuck, even if he wakes up in the Center, then what? Jack would probably just be waiting for him and he really would have to go through all this again.

Then again, he doesn't want this to go right either. Not that it matters. If what he wanted ever mattered, he wouldn't be in this position right now.]

R-right...

[He barely even registers saying that word and there's a nice amount of self hatred that goes along with it, because of all the goddamn things to say to Jack right now. But he's still too much in shock to say any of the things he really wants to.]

[Thank god the other guy's conscious enough to comprehend. Jack really does not want to go through this again, and he knows Two sure as hell doesn't.]

[He wets his lips, single eye clouded with touches of nostalgia, regret, and something hard. He angles himself over his double, his free hand moving once more over his face. Just...one last time. Even missing the eye, the socket raw and leaking, it's beautiful.]

[But he can't take long, he needs the brand blazing hot. It's still a bright, fiery orange red. There's steam or smoke or something coming off of it, and it gives off a tangy odor of something like rust.]

It's almost over.

[With those words, he lines up the brand and before he can second guess himself, he thrusts it against his doppelganger's face.]

[Tim is almost grateful for how messed up his vision is right now, because it means he can't really see Jack's expression right now. The brand, though, that's hard to miss. It's just about all he can see.

And then... it comes closer.

The instinct to move is there, but he's paralyzed by many things right now. So despite what his subconscious is screaming at him to do, he stays still.

As soon as the burning metal touches his skin, everything explodes into searing pain. He'd thought the eye had been bad and it had been, but this isn't just in one spot, this is his whole face. It feels like he's on fire and he doesn't want to think about what it's doing to his skin right now. No, he doesn't need to think about it. He can feel it happening, after all. Buried underneath the pain.

The screaming is worse too, but Tim barely even hears his own voice. Everything is pain right now in a very literal sense - anything that isn't the pain might as well have disappeared.

It's only been moments but it feels like an eternity.]

[It's weird, how burning flesh always smells like steaks on the grill. How messed up is that?]

[Jack's no stranger to burning skin. His other hand clamps over his double's mouth, stifling the much more intense screams that are pouring out of him. He hears the crackle of skin as it sears and crisps and dies under the metal. He watches the skin turn red and shiny at the edges. When he pulls the brand away, it's only been a matter of seconds, but it feels like he's been standing here forever, watching it take.]

[And there it is. Bright red and black and angry, oozing something sort of like blood. The skin is indented, swelling already, steaming. Yeah. That's it. There's his half-dead, damaged face.]

That's it. All done. You're all done now.

[Tim's not sure when the screaming fades, but it does. The pain doesn't. It changes after the brand has been pulled away, but that's about it. There's no relief, nothing. He vaguely feels a pain somewhere in his throat too. Too much stress on his voice from the screaming...

Jack's saying something, but it's not reaching him again. Right now, he couldn't care less anyway.

So there's no response. Just more heavy, panicked breathing. Broken, not-quite sobs mixed between it. It hurts so goddamn much and his whole face feels so wrong. Even more wrong than it already does every day of his life.

Everything else around him starts coming a little more into focus now, even though the pain's still there. Which is just about the opposite of what he wants right now. He'd much rather just pass out.]

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Warnings: PHYSICAL TORTURE STARTS IN THIS TAG

all the warnings oh my god

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