A price to pay for their freedom. (open)
Jan 24, 2010 14:53:51 GMT -5
Post by vividwriter on Jan 24, 2010 14:53:51 GMT -5
“For the last time. What’s your message?”
“You promise It’s the last?”
“Yes. The last before we really get started. See that woman over there?” My torturer points to a tall woman, dressed in a dark trench coat and ocre slacks, standing in a corner.
“You mean the one with a severe fashion impediment?”
My torturer growls at me, twisting my scarred arm. “Laugh all you want. But that woman has always gotten the information we needed from even the most dedicated officers.”
I set my jaw.
“Who is the head of your operation?” He growls again.
“Bring the fashion lady on.” I growl back. My former torturer smirks and gestures for four men to come, take me off of the rack, and place me somewhere else. I’m too weak to put up an attempt to escape. They carry me to a wall, and string me up from the shackles that hang from it, so that my body forms an X. The torture mistress saunters up to me, places a manicured hand on my chin, turning my jaw from side to side. I watch her open her suitcase. I almost faint with shock at how many tools are packed into it, but I remain emotionless, and steel myself. Her hand skims over the tools of torture, and curls around a hypodermic needle, and a small glass bottle.
“What’s that?” My former torturer asks gleefully. The woman didn’t even smile, “Truth serum. It works three out of five times people. So pray she is a third person. For her sake.”
They force my head down, and I can feel the tip of the needle pressing on my skin. It’s cold, I wince as it slowly enters my neck bone, and a cold serum is slowly injected into my spine. The hand holding my head down, pushes it to the side, and holds it up at the chin. I shudder as the cold serum finds my brain, and the manicured fingers let go of my chin. I feel my head loll, my eyes roll back into my head, and I black out.
My eyes focus in on two people. I blink hard, trying to clear my eyes of the fog. After the fifth blink, I could see clearly. I strapped to a stone table. The torture lady, and my former torturer lean over me. I seem to have gained energy, and judging by the faces of my torturers, I didn’t reveal anything. I grin slyly at them, and notice that my lips aren’t chapped anymore. Great, I have heard of this. They make you healthier so they can ensure your alertness during new tortures.
“Let me introduce myself.” Fashion lady hisses. “You may call me Catherine.” “Catherine.” I echo. “Of course, that’s not my real name, but as far as you know, it is.” I seal my lips and steal myself. Catherine snaps her fingers, and my former torturer hands her a rather small hypodermic needle. More needles? Catherine curls her fingers around it, and smiles. She then turns from my, and chuckles. Beginning her monologue. “This is a needle that I will fill with a poisen, this poisen will cause a nerve attack, racking your body with shivers, and an electric feeling. These attacks will continue for an indefinite amout of time. Keep in mind I also have a serum that will cure this. All you have to do, is tell us the message. Here’s a demonstration.” Former torturer produces a white rat, and holds it down as Catherine injects a milligram of the stuff. “If I inject, just a fraction too much, the victim will go into a coma, or even die, after feeling their whole body tearing down. The rat screams, and shakes so violently my former torturer has to cup a clear box over it. I watch it shake, hear it’s shrieks, and I shudder. The rat is now on it’s back, it’s mouth hanging open, my eyes widen as a droplet of blood trickles from it’s mouth. It’s paws twitch and Catherine giggles. “Oops.” Her hand covers her mouth, and then drops to her needle, and she pierces another container of the same poison, filling the needle half way. “Ever felt your foot go asleep? Well, this is similar, except for that it’s harsher, and it’s all over you. I always say,” She hums, “that anticipation of the torture is worse than the actual thing, but,” She approaches me, I struggle in my restraints. She forces my head to the side, and stabs me with the needle. I feel this warmer liquid seeping into my spine. “There are always exceptions.” My eyes black out, and my ears pick up screams, my screams. I feel my whole body quaking, my nerves burn, my heart palpate, and my digits freeze. A voice, her voice, “You can stop this, Just tell us what we want to know.”
I can’t see them, but my back arches, and I pull towards her voice, “KILL ME!” I scream at them. “Sorry. Maybe later.” Catherine hums. I can’t see her face, but my brain can barely pull up an image of her, smirking. Screams tear from my lungs. The pain is massive, almost to massive. How much longer will I be submitted to this torture? When will my skin stop burning, stop freezing? When will my eyes see sun light? When will my ears hear a birds whistle, a crickets song? I am trapped here for information I will not give. I have a choice,
I choose this.
(OOC. If you can figure out how to help spring Enn, that would be great. She is part a smuggling team that smuggled people out of districts.)
“You promise It’s the last?”
“Yes. The last before we really get started. See that woman over there?” My torturer points to a tall woman, dressed in a dark trench coat and ocre slacks, standing in a corner.
“You mean the one with a severe fashion impediment?”
My torturer growls at me, twisting my scarred arm. “Laugh all you want. But that woman has always gotten the information we needed from even the most dedicated officers.”
I set my jaw.
“Who is the head of your operation?” He growls again.
“Bring the fashion lady on.” I growl back. My former torturer smirks and gestures for four men to come, take me off of the rack, and place me somewhere else. I’m too weak to put up an attempt to escape. They carry me to a wall, and string me up from the shackles that hang from it, so that my body forms an X. The torture mistress saunters up to me, places a manicured hand on my chin, turning my jaw from side to side. I watch her open her suitcase. I almost faint with shock at how many tools are packed into it, but I remain emotionless, and steel myself. Her hand skims over the tools of torture, and curls around a hypodermic needle, and a small glass bottle.
“What’s that?” My former torturer asks gleefully. The woman didn’t even smile, “Truth serum. It works three out of five times people. So pray she is a third person. For her sake.”
They force my head down, and I can feel the tip of the needle pressing on my skin. It’s cold, I wince as it slowly enters my neck bone, and a cold serum is slowly injected into my spine. The hand holding my head down, pushes it to the side, and holds it up at the chin. I shudder as the cold serum finds my brain, and the manicured fingers let go of my chin. I feel my head loll, my eyes roll back into my head, and I black out.
My eyes focus in on two people. I blink hard, trying to clear my eyes of the fog. After the fifth blink, I could see clearly. I strapped to a stone table. The torture lady, and my former torturer lean over me. I seem to have gained energy, and judging by the faces of my torturers, I didn’t reveal anything. I grin slyly at them, and notice that my lips aren’t chapped anymore. Great, I have heard of this. They make you healthier so they can ensure your alertness during new tortures.
“Let me introduce myself.” Fashion lady hisses. “You may call me Catherine.” “Catherine.” I echo. “Of course, that’s not my real name, but as far as you know, it is.” I seal my lips and steal myself. Catherine snaps her fingers, and my former torturer hands her a rather small hypodermic needle. More needles? Catherine curls her fingers around it, and smiles. She then turns from my, and chuckles. Beginning her monologue. “This is a needle that I will fill with a poisen, this poisen will cause a nerve attack, racking your body with shivers, and an electric feeling. These attacks will continue for an indefinite amout of time. Keep in mind I also have a serum that will cure this. All you have to do, is tell us the message. Here’s a demonstration.” Former torturer produces a white rat, and holds it down as Catherine injects a milligram of the stuff. “If I inject, just a fraction too much, the victim will go into a coma, or even die, after feeling their whole body tearing down. The rat screams, and shakes so violently my former torturer has to cup a clear box over it. I watch it shake, hear it’s shrieks, and I shudder. The rat is now on it’s back, it’s mouth hanging open, my eyes widen as a droplet of blood trickles from it’s mouth. It’s paws twitch and Catherine giggles. “Oops.” Her hand covers her mouth, and then drops to her needle, and she pierces another container of the same poison, filling the needle half way. “Ever felt your foot go asleep? Well, this is similar, except for that it’s harsher, and it’s all over you. I always say,” She hums, “that anticipation of the torture is worse than the actual thing, but,” She approaches me, I struggle in my restraints. She forces my head to the side, and stabs me with the needle. I feel this warmer liquid seeping into my spine. “There are always exceptions.” My eyes black out, and my ears pick up screams, my screams. I feel my whole body quaking, my nerves burn, my heart palpate, and my digits freeze. A voice, her voice, “You can stop this, Just tell us what we want to know.”
I can’t see them, but my back arches, and I pull towards her voice, “KILL ME!” I scream at them. “Sorry. Maybe later.” Catherine hums. I can’t see her face, but my brain can barely pull up an image of her, smirking. Screams tear from my lungs. The pain is massive, almost to massive. How much longer will I be submitted to this torture? When will my skin stop burning, stop freezing? When will my eyes see sun light? When will my ears hear a birds whistle, a crickets song? I am trapped here for information I will not give. I have a choice,
I choose this.
(OOC. If you can figure out how to help spring Enn, that would be great. She is part a smuggling team that smuggled people out of districts.)
