"Tell me where he is," the man demanded, slapping the young agent they'd strapped to the chair once more. This time the blow brought blood to the man's mouth, but the stinging on his cheeks wasn't enough to overcome years of training.
The agent simply spat on his captors white shoes. Seeing his blood slowly seep into the shoes brought satisfaction to his heart, even when he knew he might die soon.
"He won't talk," a smooth women's voice said. "Stop beating him like you'd beat an errant puppy," she stated in a bored manner. "Get on with it."
A high pitched whine filled the room, and the agent swung his head upward. He was met with the sight of a stunning woman leaning against the eerily white walls, a shock of purple against the pale canvas. However, the swarthy man who abused him wasn't in view. The sound continued to get louder.
The young man turned his head in time to see the rod go into his spine accompanied by searing pain spreading through his body. A scream shot from his mouth unbidden. No matter what he did, it didn't stop. Every technique, every bit of training did nothing. He felt wet trails form down his cheeks; he was in such pain that he was unaware of his mindless screams for mercy.
And through the ruckus he heard his male captor thundered, "Tell me where he is and this will end."
"I don't know!" The agent wailed pathetically. He arched into the pain. "Please," he begged pathetically.
"You know something," the woman growled intensely from the wall. "Give us something."
"KAMUI!" The man screamed. "THAT'S ALL I KNOW!" He cried insistently.
"Interesting," the female purred. "Kill him."
The last view in the man's swimming eyesight was her swaying out of the room, saying, "We have him…" And then the pain grew and overwhelmed everything.
