Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People is the Property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.
~ X ~
The piercing blue eyes, glued to the monitor, followed the progress of a group of people entering headquarters. Two burly, grim faced humans roughly dragged a youth, hands bound behind his back. They gripped him under the shoulders, holding his upper body off the floor, and he was either too weak to stand or they deliberately dragged him as punishment. The toes of his shoes briefly caught on the tiles, and they jerked him forward.
Finally!
He relaxed back in his chair. John was his again. Their most formidable agent back in his grasp.
The boy's head bobbed up briefly, and the Founder noted the blood smears from forehead and chin cuts, fresh red dripping slowly from the nose. Bruises were darkening on the face, and one eye was slightly swollen. The guards' roughness presumably indicated that John had given as good as he'd gotten.
He spared a glance at the three other humans in the entourage, amused by the bruises on their faces and the dirt and small rips in their clothes. One of them definitely favored his side, and the woman walked with a slight limp.
Of course, five against one was not good odds, but he never doubted John would fight. He flipped a switch on the panel and quietly issued instructions.
He waited patiently while they had strapped the rebel to the interrogation table and somewhat cleaned up his face. He had waited a long time for this moment, and there was no need to rush.
The Founder confidently entered the room, taking a seat where the prisoner could easily see him. He sat at ease for awhile, legs crossed. When the boy did not acknowledge his presence, he sighed. "So, here's how we can proceed. The simple and most painless way is for you to tell me all I need to know in which case we'll kill you quickly."
He barely paused, while John smiled and shook his head, before continuing. He knew John and it was a waste of time to expect that the boy would capitulate. "But you're not going to do that, are you?" He answered his own question. "I didn't think so."
He purposely stood, adjusting his suit jacket. "Either way this ends the same. You will be dead, and I will know everything inside your head, such as where your rebel friends are hiding."
The Founder paced as he talked. John swallowed, but stayed mute. "The only difference is I might have to work a bit harder. You'll have to suffer . . " The Founder raised his hand and concentrated while still talking. " . . in ways you can never imagine."
John couldn't stop the scream that seemed to rip from his gut and threatened to shred his vocal cords. The chords in his neck bulged, and his limbs thrashed helplessly against the binders.
The Founder eased up, knowing it was impossible for John to speak through the pain, allowing him the opportunity to give up after this first taste of what was in store for him. "Show me, John and this can all end."
Taking John's silence as a refusal, he increased the level of pain again allowing John to scream and then throttled down.
John panted and threatened. "If I ever get free . . "
A quick gesture from the Founder and the shackles opened. John raised his upper body, not quite believing the restraints were gone.
"You'll what?" the man calmly inquired.
John made an effort and slid off the side of the chair, falling to his hands and knees. He struggled to rise, gritting his teeth and steeling himself before lunging for the Founder with raised fist.
A force wave stopped him inches from his target.
"I broke out before you were born, boy." The Founder mocked as he slammed John into the wall. He held him there for a moment before pulling him back. He demonstrated his power by holding him upright like a rag doll before sending waves of agony crashing through him again.
Stephen, unable to bear the sounds coming from John, burst into the room shouting, "Enough."
A disgusted sigh and the Founder ceased the pain and freed John, who simply collapsed to the floor.
Jedikiah trailed Stephen, apologizing. "Pardon the interruption."
Stephen paid no attention, arguing, "If you kill him, he can't tell us where the Tomorrow People are hiding!"
John painfully raised himself from the floor as the Founder spoke to Stephan. "You are your father's son. Both the same weakness. The misguided misplaced compassion." The Founder was mildly disgusted.
He glanced at John, enjoying what was to come next. "Him of all people! If only you knew the truth you'd strangle him with your own hands."
"What truth?" Stephen asked, but the Founder's attention was directed towards John, wanting to see his reaction.
"Tell him, John," he goaded. "Go ahead. Think of it as a last confession."
Now he turned to watch Stephen while taunting John. "Well, come on. He ought to know how his father died."
"You?" Stephen, looking at the prisoner, could barely get the question out. "You're lying." He shot the accusation at the Founder.
But the man's attention was on John, who was shaking his head, denying Stephen's defense of himself.
Will he admit it? Will he have the guts to admit his shame?
"I'm sorry, Stephen." John's eyes were steady as he confirmed the Founder's accusation.
Stephen stormed from the room. The Founder, feeling both his turmoil and John's shame, smiled. At the same time, he couldn't hold back a grudging admiration. John had admitted his guilt, without any attempt to deflect the responsibility to others. Not bothering to plead he had trusted Jedikiah. That he had been played . . used as a pawn.
"Hmmm! Jedikiah your presence is no longer required."
Jedikiah opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when the Founder raised an eyebrow. He didn't bother watching his second-in-command leave, instead turning his attention back to John, using a psychic push to swoop him into the chair and close the manacles around his wrists.
"It will be much tidier if we keep you in the chair. Now where did we leave off?"
He decided to be a little more artistic this time, choosing the nerves with the same finesse as a musician plucking chords. He continued until John's heartbeat became erratic and then stopped. Medics quickly responded with a crash cart. He stood deep in thought, hands clasped behind his back, while they worked on the boy.
How many did we sacrifice to create a killer? Seventy one? Seventy two? I forgot the exact number that did not survive the injections. Guess it's not important. And then we had the five that survived. Four of them insane killers. Unable to be controlled. And finally John.
John. The only one who survived the injections and remained sane.
I wonder? Even after we forced him to kill the man who helped train him. A man I truly believed he loved . . He still stayed sane. Is that why he has the strength of mind to resist me?
What is it about this man boy that makes him so unique?
In his own way he's every bit as valuable as Stephen. In some ways, more. He is the key to the improvement of the species. The only advantage humans have over my kind is their ability to kill. John, locked somewhere in your DNA is the key to domination. My scientists assure me that at least some of your children would survive the biological manipulation necessary to allow them to kill.
He watched them inject the prisoner with a drug and force oxygen down his nose. He saw the convulsive shudder of the chest and the deep gasp as breathing resumed.
No, John. I lied when I said we would kill you, just as I've always lied to you. It was to give you an out – an escape hatch. You could never live with yourself if you betrayed your band of sewer rats, so I let you think you wouldn't have to live with one more betrayal on your conscience.
A not particularly nice smile crossed the Founder's face.
You will live, John, and you will father the children that will help the Tomorrow People dominate the humans.
The chief medic diffidently approached him.
"Is it safe to resume questioning?" the Founder asked.
"If you want him to live then, no, he needs time to regain his strength." The man kept his voice firm but neutral, clearly indicating he had no stake in the outcome. He was only providing facts.
The Founder did not respond, having no intention of being overheard by John. He approached the chair and took John's chin in his hand. "Rest now, John. We'll continue this tomorrow when you've had time to recuperate."
~ X ~
He sat up straight, rigid with anger while a frightened aide informed him John had escaped. Dispassionately he noted the man's uneven breathing, the sweat droplet beading on his forehead, the tick under the left eye.
"Who's fault?" The Founder's icy tone sent shivers down the man's spine.
He stuttered, "Ah . . hem . . we're no . . er . ."
A violent choppy hand gesture abruptly cut off the stammering. Lame excuses were the last thing he wanted to hear. "Never mind, I'll find out myself."
A quick jerk of his head and the man slunk out, relieved that the stone faced, uniformed human standing in the corner did not receive orders to kill him.
The Founder gripped the arms of his chair. This is not over, John. Not by any means.
~ FIN ~