Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Blood. It was everywhere, painted in desperate arcs across the floor and spilling down the sides of the chair nailed to the concrete. It gleamed across his knuckles, mixing with his sweat. The blood belonged to man sitting dead in front of him. His mouth hung open in a silent scream and tears streaked through the dirt and blood caked on his face. A uniform hung limply on the dead man's body, the tattered pieces coated with bile, blood, sweat and human waste. Heero wiped the blood from his hands with a rag that was once white, now sticky and clotted with blood. He turned to the only other living being the room and tossed the rag onto the metal tray holding his tools.
"You saw what I did. You know what I've done. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?" Heero moved the cart that the tray was on as he spoke, wheeling it closer to the bound man. He stopped five feet from him and picked up one of the longer knives. A light flickered in and out, a low buzzing filling the dank room.
"9948 Alpha Delta Gamma," the man's voice was firm,resolute. His fear was evident to Heero. He'd watched as Heero crushed his subordinates ribs, pushing his fist into the man's heart. The man had died screaming, "Please."
Heero slipped the knife into the man's shirt collar and tugged it down. The fabric ripped and droplets of blood appeared as the knife nicked the man's skin.
"I already know who you are. James Chape, former OZ general and a leader of a major anti-alliance organization. You have a wife and three kids. One of them died in the war. I think we're past your member code." Heero held the knife limply at his side, watching as James's pupils dilated in fear. He could see the small beads of sweat start to form and he clenched the knife tighter. Lunging forward, he pushed the knife past flesh and muscle, lodging the black hilt against James's skin.
James didn't scream. Instead, blood dribbled down his chin. He'd bitten through the tender flesh of his lip.
"Let's start with a simple question-what's your name?" Heero asked.
"9948 Alpha Del-," Heero turned the knife slowly, muscles ripping and tearing as blood started to pour from the wound. Heero watched as James bit his lip again. Slowly, he made a full circle before pulling the knife out, wiggling it and causing more damage to the already ruined muscle and tissue. If James survived this, his shoulder would never be the same.
"What's your name?" Wiping the blood from the blade he looked over his tools. He looked toward James. His eyes were glazed in pain. Selecting a simple leather case, Heero opened it, setting it back down on the tray before pulling a slender needle made of gundanium from it. He'd made these items himself. Each needle had been carefully crafted for this purpose. Gripping a simple hammer, he placed the needle under James's fingernail. Their eyes met and James's breath stilled
"Your name." Silence. Heero slammed the hammer forward. Nail and soft fleshy tissue separated, letting blood flow across the pristine gundamnium needle. Heero struck again, the needle's base slipping under the now torn and cracked nail.
"General James Chape!" He screamed, name coming from his lips with blood-filled spittle. It splashed across Heero's already red-splattered white T-shirt. Heero set the hammer down onto the tray and trailed his fingers over a pair of pliers.
"Good. Now, where is Duo Maxwell?" He looked at James, grabbing the end of the needle and pulling it out. Blood dribbled from the wound. Heero wiped the needle off, settling it back into the leather case.
"I-I can't tell you that." Heero looked at James. Grasping the cracked and torn nail with the end of his pliers and pulling. The nail ripped and a scream reverberated around the concrete room.
"Wrong answer. Where is Duo Maxwell," he wrapped the pliers edges around one of James's undamaged nails and pulled. Blood dribbled out as the man screamed. Heero dropped the nail onto the floor to join the other. He set the pliers down and took up a beaker and an eye dropper.
"This is a type of acid. I've never used it before. But I've seen it used." He filled the dropper, grabbing James's hand and holding it still. Slowly, he squeezed, allowing drops to fall on the exposed under skin of James's fingernails. Screams rang out as the drops continued to fall. Five drops on to each exposed under nail. One for every month that Duo Maxwell had been missing. One for every month that Heero had been searching.
Setting the beaker down he watched as the flesh was eaten through. He wasn't surprised when James threw up. He had been expecting it. Stepping back, he allowed James to spill his bile. It was hot and foul smelling, spilling down James' chest and wetting his pants.
"Tell me where he is. Then this is over." Heero scanned his instruments as James finished vomiting. Selecting a cattle prod, he looked at James and flicked it on, electricity spilling across its end. He stepped forward. The battle-hardened general flinched back. Pulling his arm back, he stabbed the end into the wound on James's shoulder, holding it there before pulling it back. The smell of burning flesh spread. Flicking the rod off he set it back down.
"Boston–A small warehouse on 5thstreet, please…No more, please." James looked at Heero, tears spilling down his face. Nodding, Heero turned on his heel and walked toward the door. "Wait! You said you'd let me go!"
Shaking his head, Heero wrapped his hand around the metal handle before turning it.
"I said I would make it end." He stepped out of the room and closed the door on James's echoing sobs, leaving him in the silence of the dank hallway.
"Is it really worth it, Heero?" Trowa was leaning against one of the walls, a deep sadness in his eyes as he looked at his friend.
"Yes." Heero walked from the building, leaving Trowa, and James behind.
A/N This is intended as a Oneshot