Disclaimer: I do not own Detentionaire – teleTOON does.

Warnings: SPOILERS to season 3, gruesome images, violence, blood, unethical surgical practises (vivisection)

A/N1: inspired by a story Conspiracy by CreativeImaginator

A/N2: the story about a man waking up in a bathtub filled with ice and having a phone and a note to call 911 in his reach is a classical setting of an urban legend about kidney thieves.

A/N3: "Abandon hope all ye who enter here" - The supposed inscription at the entrance to Hell from Divine Komedy by Dante Alighieri

"oh, ja, surgery is often, sometimes too… bloody" – Lee Ping/ Detentionaire episode 33

He woke up in a bathtub full of ice cubes, the only thing which was missing was a phone and a note to 'call 911 or else you will die'. Lee tried to steady his breathing, having a panic attack was not a good way to start plotting an escape plan.

He had so little time before drugs lessen their affect and he got back.

Lee tried to move, but avoid seeing multiply stitches showing from under filthy, bloodied dressings. He knew, he felt, that they were just some temporary solution. Making just a bit more rapid movement or straining the skin tissue a little bit too much could make it all snap. The detentionaire did his best to block a vision of his own guts spilling all over the floor.

He needed to, no, he had to escape. Within several minutes, the story would be repeated. He would once again be placed on that stony table in some sort of ancient dead-house, with moss and mold all around the walls and ceiling. They would strain him down with the leather straps. He would see, smell and feel everything that the fatty council member would be doing to him with rusty tools, crappy lights and no medical equipment whatsoever, except few PVCs delivering shady drips into his bloodstream and keeping him awake for hours to no end.

Lee was snapped back from his oblivion with the creak of the doors. He stilled as a man entered. It wasn't the fat psycho but a council member that Lee had never seen before. Or, more likely, that he saw him everyday in the mirror. Was Lee that out of his mind to see himself within his captor's face?

#2, as Lee immediately nicknamed the young Asian, leaned toward him and whispered something into his ear – it wasn't English nor Korean - it sounded like some secret code, he might once created with his sibling so his mother wouldn't understand what he talking about. But he wasn't his brother – he didn't have the key-code to understand. Or did he? Lee tried to focus, there was something familiar in how the vowels sounded, how the syllables were forming a smooth rhythm. It calmed him a little, it was solid puzzle he could work on. A task with visible and reachable goal.

#2 disappeared in the shadows as the fatty council member entered the room. He was now towering above Lee with swarm of Cleaners on both of his sides. The robots lifted the kid and moved him to other room, where Lee was once again strapped and hooked to the drips. Despite too strong light and tears welling his eyes, Lee could see that the man was smiling. The smile was a little bit like Lynch's – one of those crazy, insane, totally bonkers and out of his mind kind. His small, button-like, black eyes were glimmering evilly from under the protective glasses dotted with dry blood. It took Lee's clogged mind a while to connect the bloody dots. Why they were doing it to him? What was in those several drips in his right arm? since obviously there was no painkiller among them. And what about the lilting message of #2? Was that man his ally? Did the message really meant anything? Was it a way of escape? Or just made up hope to keep Lee's mind focused for any reason the council had?

With the corner of the eye the detentionaire saw an angle grinder. The steady movement of it's cutting disc was mesmerizing, an angry buzz of the machine was like a white noise to Lee's mind.

The grinder lowered and all Lee could feel was the overwhelming pain and smell of burning flesh and bones. He howled in agony as the tools and fatso's hands were digging into his flesh, poking, probing, stirring his insides, taking some bits then showing them back inside. The man took special interest to his left arm – the one with tattoo – which was currently being cut into pieces.

It was all done in search for answers. What were the questions, Lee could only guess.

comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always welcomed and appreciated!