This was the fourteenth—fifteenth, sixteenth day maybe, his memory was starting to get foggy—day in a row that Jack had been strung up in this damned concrete room. He was starting to think that Talon was running out of ways to torture him. Each day they would come in, hurt him in some way while trying to extract info from him, and each day they would leave resultless and even more frustrated. They picked the wrong Overwatch member to kidnap.
Back during his SEP days, he and his fellow super soldiers had been trained extensively on how to resist interrogation and torture. "Hell Week", the recruits had called it. A week filled with every method imaginable, from waterboarding to electrocution. You had two chances, and the minute you spilled the second time you were out of the program. Like basic, but a hell of a lot worse. Jack remembered he slept for a solid two days straight after the week was over. Gabriel had made fun of him for it, but he learned later that he had only woken up mere hours before him.
Jack had been hanging in the room for what felt like hours now, dangling from his bound wrists. They hadn't bothered with the bag over his head this time, thank god, but his arms had fallen asleep an hour ago. Shifting in the restraints brought little comfort. He hoped that they would just get this done and over with so he could go back to his cell and get some damn sleep.
As if by command, Jack's ears perked up as heavy bootsteps fell outside. There was the sound of numbers being input into a keypad and the heavy door swung open. There stood Reaper, clad all in black with that stupid skull mask just as before. "Hello, Soldier 76."
Jack didn't respond, instead choosing to stare down the figure. He watched as the masked man strode across the room, stopping mere feet in front of him, invading his personal space.
"I heard that you haven't been cooperating lately."
"..."
Reaper sighed dramatically, the sound escaping his mask like a low growl instead. He began pacing, taking slow languid steps around the soldier. "This would go a lot easier if you would just cooperate with us. I don't want to be here wasting my precious time, and I'm sure you don't either. Not that we could just let you go, as I'm sure you know, but we could certainly make your current predicament more… comfortable for you. All we need to know is who all was contacted during the Overwatch recall."
"Screw you." Jack smirked. "There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done."
"We'll see about that."
"What are you going to do, angst me to death?" Reaper backhanded him, hard. The spikes on his glove dug into Jack's skin, tearing through. He cursed, spitting onto the floor. Damn that hurt! Fucking spiked edgelord gloves! Blood began trickling out from the wound, crimson steadily pooling onto the concrete floor below him.
"Talk."
"Screw you." A punch to the gut this time. Jack wheezed, desperately tried to suck in air in shallow gasps, but it felt as though a five-ton weight had been strapped to his chest. As he was getting his wind back, there was another blow to his gut. And another one. The weight became twenty-pounds, his diaphragm violently spasming from the onslaught of punches. He couldn't breath.
"Talk."
Jack had meant to respond with a smart-assed remark, but all he could do was gape his mouth like a water-starved fish as he gasped and stared at the ground in anxiety-ridden bewilderment.
"What, nothing to say now?" Reaper chuckled darkly, "Then I guess I'm done with you for now. But I'll be back." Reaper clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked past and back towards the door. Jack stared on as his black coat fluttered behind him dramatically before his figure disappeared behind the steel door again.
When Jack came to again, he was still dangling by his wrists from the chains. It felt like every ounce of blood in his body had accumulated at his fingertips. Shit, he was going to lose his arms from circulation loss at this rate. Thankfully though, they at least had had the decency to put a step back under his feet. Maybe he wouldn't totally lose an arm now. Just a part of one. How gracious of them.
Jack heard heavy footsteps outside of the door again. Probably Reaper, he thought hazily, nobody else would wear ridiculous platform boots like that.
In strode Reaper, full black getup as per usual. "Hello, Soldier 76."
"Hello, Reaper," Soldier 76 mocked, trying to imitate the deep gravel of the wraith's voice. With a snarl Reaper kicked the step the step out from under him and again he was hanging. The sudden strain on his abdomen sucked the air from his lungs, making it harder to breath again. It felt like he could breath half of what he could before. Yeah, he could definitely do without this.
"Are you going to behave today?" Reaper asked, beginning his leisurely stroll around the soldier.
"Probably not."
"I see." Reaper paused, stopping in front of the mercenary. "How about we play a game then, mix things up. I'm going to name off a list of people, you stop me when one of the names strikes your fancy and you can tell me where we'd find them, hm?"
"Implying that I actually know where anyone is."
"Alright, let's begin. Lena Oxton."
Silence. Reaper cracked his knuckles menacingly.
"Angela Ziegler."
More silence. Reaper responded in turn by punching Jack in the stomach, the force of it sending him swinging in his chains. The extra movement exerted even more strain on his wrists, becoming more and more painful.
"Jesse McCree."
The wraith waited only moments before delivering the same blow to the gut. Jack cursed; every part of his body was screaming at him to make it stop, his brain wanting to just tell them what they wanted to know and end this. "I don't know where they are!" He gasped.
"If you don't know anything, then you're useless and there's no point in sparing your wretched life."
"Do it then!"
Reaper stepped forward, malice emanating from the hollow eye sockets of the skull mask. As he reached a clawed hand out, Soldier 76 swung his body weight out and effectively kicked Reaper in the head. The wraith fell backwards, clutching at his mask-covered face and shouting a string of obscenities. Soldier 76 withdrew, satisfied with himself despite the burning pain that was now shooting up and down his wrists. That kick would have killed most people, he thought, or at least knocked them unconscious, but he had a feeling that this Reaper guy was not most people.
"You fucking—" Reaper hissed, jerking himself upright, hand still on the mask. "I'm going to break your leg for that." Like a banshee he rushed forward, gripping at his shins. Despite 76's best efforts, he managed to get a hold of one leg, and slammed his elbow down onto his tibia. Jack screamed and watched in horror as his leg bent unnaturally, broken. The leg fell to the ground, limp and motionless.
All Jack remembered as he faded into unconsciousness was Reaper leaving the room in a blurry huff, and several more guards shoving their way through the door.