The room was cold and dark, devoid of any human touches. How long he had been here, he had no idea. It seemed like years. There were no windows here. The pleasures of feeling the sun on his face or looking up into the moonlight were long forgotten. The only reality in this world he lived in now was the sterile steel walls of his cell.
Who his captives were, he wasn't sure. He had heard snatches of conversation, but nothing more. Some of them wore face masks made of metal bits and their clothing was plain black lycra. The T on their foreheads was obviously the mark of their tribe, but what it stood for, the captive had no idea. His own tribe mark was faded and barely visible on the back of his hand. The pentagram…
His memories were very weak now, many of them lost in the tortures and experiments he had been put through. But during the long, silent lonely hours one memory remained…a girl…blond, with zulu knots in her hair. She was beautiful and strong, a born leader…and she was his love. This he knew still, he felt it in his heart. He held tight to that memory. They had not yet been able to take it from him, but he knew that they were not done with him, they would try again.
And then what would become of him? What would happen when that last bit of his soul was taken from him? Would he cease to exist? He could not even remember his own name anymore.
Footsteps, the heavy footsteps of the boots they wore, coming toward his prison. They were coming for him again. He stood up slowly, his lean frame facing the door in a manner of defiance. Letting them know that even without his memories, without his sense of self, they had not yet broken him.
Two guards entered the room and moved toward him. Grabbing him by the arms, they drug him from the room and down a long hallway toward the control room.
"Here's the virt, sir," One of the guards said in a cold manner, as if he were no more than a piece of meat.
"Good, good. Place the device on him and then set the power to 8," the commander said, nodding his head in a pleased manner.
The guards sat him down in a chair and strapped him in. The device they had spoken of was a helmet that they had used on him before.
As he sat there waiting for his captures to flip the switch he held the image of the girl in his mind. He must not let them take her from him. She was all that kept him sane.
Then he heard the click and lights began to flash before his eyes. Images swam in his mind. Faces he didn't know, voices he couldn't place, places he'd never been. Where was he? Who was he? Who was she? The girl's face appeared before him once again…he focused on it as hard as he could. Suddenly a sharp pain pierced his skull. He cried out and gripped the arms of the chair. The image began to fade…slowly…it became nothingness.
The guards pulled the helmet off and freed him from the chair then looked expectantly at their commander.
"No need to keep this one any longer, he's useless to us now. His mind's a complete blank. You can let him go."