Steve had always been a rebel and a fighter. His family raised him to fight, and even while embracing that, he fought against it. Prepping for an end of the world scenario wasn’t the ideal life, but it seemed to pay off after the invasion. He was outgoing and extroverted, and this made him a target at times to his older siblings. He’d never heard the words, but at a young age he did learn the concept of “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down.”
After leaving his family, he had taken to training to fight at local gyms, mainly to just continue to stay fit, but also because that nagging idea of “end of times” was clawing at him. Occasionally fighting for money was a benefit too.
He’d considered himself tough, and he was, by almost any measure. Even when he was taken by the invaders and forced to submit his body, and parts of his mind, to their will, he fought it. He didn’t know it, but many, the vast majority of crowned humans, just went with it. You know, the whole “path of least resistance” thing. But Steve, he was tough, and he was stubborn.
And the two years he was crowned felt like a form of eternal hell. The truth of it is that he didn’t have any concept whatsoever about how long he’d been under their control. Most of the Handlers had easily subdued humans. They could control anywhere from 4 to 10 humans because the humans did not fight the control. This was definitely optimal for the aliens.
Steve, well. He wasn’t optimal. He fought the control, constantly-- and he paid for it. His Handler seemed to enjoy tormenting him, and between that desire to torment Steve, and the demand for constant attention, the Handler was only controlling Steve and no one else. Now, Steve knew none of this in any detail, he only knew he felt the need and desire to fight, resist. What others did, what effects he was having, none of this ever meant anything as his entire existence was extremely myopic.
So in that battle, he had no idea how much control a devoted, focused Handler had. When you can control someone’s mind, you can not only control thoughts and the such--you could also control the way that they perceived time. Steve’s handler spent much time firing off pain receptors in his nervous system and if he could have controlled his mouth, he’d have screamed until his throat was raw and bloody. What felt like days and days could be minutes, hours outside of his mind.
His handler also made sure to allow him to see things when “appropriate,” such as allowing his vision to filter in the images of his own body being forced to moved dozens of dead human bodies, or carry away screaming humans on their way to be crowned.
He was living in this agonizing state for 2 years, but what felt like an eternity, when something just...stopped. It felt different. He felt a complete lack of any...connection. He had a sense of his body, his actual body and mind, but it just seemed like it was not totally there. He didn’t know that at that moment, an attack was launched on the compound where his handler, along with several others and their crowned humans were at was launched. Very uncharacteristically to the aliens, Steve’s handler seemed to be focused on HIM, his human. Most were more driven by the other aliens and their cause. To most, especially Handlers, the humans meant nothing and were easily disposed of, almost like pairs of latex gloves at a dentist or doctor.
But until the end, his Handler put all of his energy and ability into mentally maiming Steve, and the sudden transition from the lack of connection to the agony he was in was shocking in and of itself. He literally felt like his body was being ripped apart, set on fire, sprayed with acid, then thrown into a shredder. That was the one time since his ordeal that he wanted to die. He wanted to lose.
Then almost as suddenly, there were flashes, words, people. None of it made sense. Voice after voice, telling him to “stay calm,” “relax,” and that “it’s going to be ok.” He could feel...things. The voices sounded so far away, or maybe as if he was under water, like in a bathtub.
What Steve didn’t know is that for many months, a group of humans had some SO close to removing the Crowns from people, but never could quite get it. Almost 2 dozen attempts were met with failure, all leading to death. What they were up against was that the mental bond between the human and the Crown was...unique. What started as an attempt by a Telepathic mutant to simply ease the suffering of a human who was being worked on led to a breakthrough: there was a direct link between the human and the crown and it had to be...addressed. That subject still died as it was too far past the point of help, but it led them to developing methods and some degree of understanding to what needed to be done. Now it was always a different issue. Sometimes, the Handler was dead, and that made it slightly easier. Some Handlers were alive, but simply didn’t seem to care once they lose their crowned human.
But sometimes, just sometimes, the Handler was alive. And that living Handler seemed to care immensely about the human that was crowned. Prior to Steve, the group had successfully un-Crowned about 3 people and it was not easy by any means, but it was logical and predictable. The process with Steve seemed to set the process back many, many steps. Eventually the handler died, having succumbed to its wounds, and that was when things got a lot easier for the group operating on Steve.
But it didn’t get much easier for Steve at that point. He realized at some mental level, that he was screaming. He was in pain. This pain was different now, it was real. He couldn’t control his body at that point. It was partially due to the removal of the crown and his body getting reorientated, but also because of the disconnect created between his body and mind by the handler. Then, there was the drugs that the group pumped into him, hoping to ease the pain, to calm him, or to at least get him to stop screaming.
It was almost 4 days later that he woke up, strapped to a hospital bed, looking around at people he didn’t know, in some place he didn’t know.
And it was that moment that the actual extent of the Handler’s attack manifested. He couldn’t remember his name. In fact, he couldn’t concretely recall anything. He tried to think of something, anything. A fact, a birthday, a song, a thing...ANY thing. Something. Thoughts, pictures, voices, events, they were all swirling around but he couldn’t get it. He wasn't sure if anything he might remember would even actually be REAL or created. It was like...it was like 100 puzzles were thrown into a bag, then the one he needed was mixed in there. Now he was fumbling, trying to make sense of the pictures, the shapes, all of it, and it was just too much.
For the first time since he was maybe 5 or so, he started to cry...but he didn’t remember anything to put it in that context anyway...
After leaving his family, he had taken to training to fight at local gyms, mainly to just continue to stay fit, but also because that nagging idea of “end of times” was clawing at him. Occasionally fighting for money was a benefit too.
He’d considered himself tough, and he was, by almost any measure. Even when he was taken by the invaders and forced to submit his body, and parts of his mind, to their will, he fought it. He didn’t know it, but many, the vast majority of crowned humans, just went with it. You know, the whole “path of least resistance” thing. But Steve, he was tough, and he was stubborn.
And the two years he was crowned felt like a form of eternal hell. The truth of it is that he didn’t have any concept whatsoever about how long he’d been under their control. Most of the Handlers had easily subdued humans. They could control anywhere from 4 to 10 humans because the humans did not fight the control. This was definitely optimal for the aliens.
Steve, well. He wasn’t optimal. He fought the control, constantly-- and he paid for it. His Handler seemed to enjoy tormenting him, and between that desire to torment Steve, and the demand for constant attention, the Handler was only controlling Steve and no one else. Now, Steve knew none of this in any detail, he only knew he felt the need and desire to fight, resist. What others did, what effects he was having, none of this ever meant anything as his entire existence was extremely myopic.
So in that battle, he had no idea how much control a devoted, focused Handler had. When you can control someone’s mind, you can not only control thoughts and the such--you could also control the way that they perceived time. Steve’s handler spent much time firing off pain receptors in his nervous system and if he could have controlled his mouth, he’d have screamed until his throat was raw and bloody. What felt like days and days could be minutes, hours outside of his mind.
His handler also made sure to allow him to see things when “appropriate,” such as allowing his vision to filter in the images of his own body being forced to moved dozens of dead human bodies, or carry away screaming humans on their way to be crowned.
He was living in this agonizing state for 2 years, but what felt like an eternity, when something just...stopped. It felt different. He felt a complete lack of any...connection. He had a sense of his body, his actual body and mind, but it just seemed like it was not totally there. He didn’t know that at that moment, an attack was launched on the compound where his handler, along with several others and their crowned humans were at was launched. Very uncharacteristically to the aliens, Steve’s handler seemed to be focused on HIM, his human. Most were more driven by the other aliens and their cause. To most, especially Handlers, the humans meant nothing and were easily disposed of, almost like pairs of latex gloves at a dentist or doctor.
But until the end, his Handler put all of his energy and ability into mentally maiming Steve, and the sudden transition from the lack of connection to the agony he was in was shocking in and of itself. He literally felt like his body was being ripped apart, set on fire, sprayed with acid, then thrown into a shredder. That was the one time since his ordeal that he wanted to die. He wanted to lose.
Then almost as suddenly, there were flashes, words, people. None of it made sense. Voice after voice, telling him to “stay calm,” “relax,” and that “it’s going to be ok.” He could feel...things. The voices sounded so far away, or maybe as if he was under water, like in a bathtub.
What Steve didn’t know is that for many months, a group of humans had some SO close to removing the Crowns from people, but never could quite get it. Almost 2 dozen attempts were met with failure, all leading to death. What they were up against was that the mental bond between the human and the Crown was...unique. What started as an attempt by a Telepathic mutant to simply ease the suffering of a human who was being worked on led to a breakthrough: there was a direct link between the human and the crown and it had to be...addressed. That subject still died as it was too far past the point of help, but it led them to developing methods and some degree of understanding to what needed to be done. Now it was always a different issue. Sometimes, the Handler was dead, and that made it slightly easier. Some Handlers were alive, but simply didn’t seem to care once they lose their crowned human.
But sometimes, just sometimes, the Handler was alive. And that living Handler seemed to care immensely about the human that was crowned. Prior to Steve, the group had successfully un-Crowned about 3 people and it was not easy by any means, but it was logical and predictable. The process with Steve seemed to set the process back many, many steps. Eventually the handler died, having succumbed to its wounds, and that was when things got a lot easier for the group operating on Steve.
But it didn’t get much easier for Steve at that point. He realized at some mental level, that he was screaming. He was in pain. This pain was different now, it was real. He couldn’t control his body at that point. It was partially due to the removal of the crown and his body getting reorientated, but also because of the disconnect created between his body and mind by the handler. Then, there was the drugs that the group pumped into him, hoping to ease the pain, to calm him, or to at least get him to stop screaming.
It was almost 4 days later that he woke up, strapped to a hospital bed, looking around at people he didn’t know, in some place he didn’t know.
And it was that moment that the actual extent of the Handler’s attack manifested. He couldn’t remember his name. In fact, he couldn’t concretely recall anything. He tried to think of something, anything. A fact, a birthday, a song, a thing...ANY thing. Something. Thoughts, pictures, voices, events, they were all swirling around but he couldn’t get it. He wasn't sure if anything he might remember would even actually be REAL or created. It was like...it was like 100 puzzles were thrown into a bag, then the one he needed was mixed in there. Now he was fumbling, trying to make sense of the pictures, the shapes, all of it, and it was just too much.
For the first time since he was maybe 5 or so, he started to cry...but he didn’t remember anything to put it in that context anyway...