Ezra headed out of the elevator and toward his car in somewhat of a hurry. He was running even later than usual to get to work. Not normally a cause for concern, but since they were supposed to be working out details for an upcoming operation – one he was quite looking forward to – he had intended to arrive with reasonable punctuality. He was nearly at his vehicle when he spotted a young man a few spaces away, muttering to himself as he peered under the hood of his car. The body language demonstrated he was clearly outside his element in finding the problem. Ezra sighed lightly and acknowledged to himself he was going to have to face a lecture from Chris, as he walked over to offer assistance.
"Using a wrench if you don't know where to place it is likely to do far more harm than good my friend," he advised as he stepped closer. "Do you mind if I take a look?"
"I'd appreciate it." The young man smiled up at him. The puzzled yet eager look reminded Ezra of the expression on JD's face every time he tried to explain a nuance of poker to the enthusiastic gambling student. The youngster spoke again as Ezra leaned over the engine. "And I know exactly what to do with the wrench." The agent just barely saw the movement out of the corner of his eye as the tool crashed into his skull.
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Once the bastard started calling him Ezra, he knew he had no cover to hide behind, and there was going to be no talking his way out of this.
The beatings were more or less what he'd expected. It had taken very little time before he had surrendered his mind to what was happening and set about bracing himself for the actions. The first few punches were not hard to absorb. Neither of the two men who seemed to be the only ones involved here were exactly in fighting shape. Unfortunately, as they moved on to the more aggressive part of the program, that because less of an issue. The momentum of a lead pipe being swung into a ribcage meant little strength was needed by the aggressor. The sounds of bones cracking were sickening to him, but he could do little to avoid the contact. Being suspended above the ground made it difficult to swing himself away from the blows. When he did succeed it resulted only in exposing other areas of his torso to the attacks. A vicious blow to his lower back broke his silence when the stark pain was simply too much to fight. Likewise, when the left forearm took one of the blows, Ezra treated them to a litany of curses that confounded their understanding. He eventually lost the ability to even pretend to remain stoic and allowed the pain to push him into unconsciousness.
He awoke, still hanging. He had no clue how long he had been out, but during his blissful oblivion he had been repositioned slightly, lowering him enough to allow his feet some purchase on the ground. The change didn't remove all of the stress from his arms, but the pressure from the crack to his forearm seemed lessened.
"Welcome back Mr. Standish. We have been waiting for you to rejoin us."
"I would be happy to remain conscious if you would do your part by making me stay here a little more comfortable."
There was a maniacal chuckle. "That would rather defeat the purpose of your stay."
Ezra's intended response was lost in a brief scream as searing heat radiated down his leg. He caught the smell of smoke and charred skin as he registered hearing another chuckle.
"Perhaps a branding iron was a little too much, too soon. Let's go with something simpler and work our way back up." He could smell cigarette smoke and knew what was coming next.
"Trying to kill me with second hand smoke will be a time-consuming process." The effort to keep his voice calm and level took more energy that he had expected.
"I have a rather more expedited plan in mind." He crushed the cigarette out on Ezra's neck, and immediately lit another. "As much as I might learn from prolonging this indefinitely, unfortunately I do have some time restrictions, and must expedite the experiment. This shouldn't take more that a week." He smiled as the next cigarette was pressed firmly into Ezra right nipple resulting in a howl that was almost inhuman.
The pain was excruciating and rushed though him. There was no point in pretending otherwise. The cigarette was quickly relit and pressed against the other side. Most of the burns that followed were barely noticeable in comparison as his arms and chest were peppered with marks. Whether from boredom or merely the next stage in whatever warped plan this was, it wasn't too long until they upped the ante. Ezra watched with an almost detached curiosity as the younger man went to the table and plugged in an extension cord. The angle he was at prevented him from seeing what the cord was being connected to, so when a moment later his tormenter turned, Ezra found it difficult to refrain from laughing. He knew it was shock and the beginnings of hysteria that triggered the reaction, but he still couldn't help himself. A curling iron. It seemed so innocuous. So out of place in light of everything else in the room. Until it touched his thigh. Touched the back of his knee, his back, his ass. The pain, exhaustion and lack of food or water and soul wrenching dread of what else they might have in mind to do with it was enough to send him into spinning into unconsciousness again.
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"You do realize that the purpose of torturing someone is to retrieve information."
"Yes, I am more than familiar with the practice."
"So, I have to ask." Ezra continued gasping slightly at the increasing pain in his arms and shoulders as his body swayed from the spasms of the last shock. The chains hanging from the ceiling and bound around his wrists were still just long enough for his feet to touch the floor, but not with enough weight to relieve the strain. "Why are you neglecting to ask any questions?"
"Well, there is the fact that you have no information of any value to me."
"I see. May I ask then –" he took a sharp breath as another electrical jolt surged through him. "To what purpose are you conducting this exercise?"
"You intrigue me."
"How wonderful for both of us."
"Not in any traditional way you understand."
"Of course. Traditional is so boring." Another jolt surged through him, stronger this time and while he could see no purpose in withholding his reaction, he fought to minimize it.
"Your ability to withstand all of this belies the image you put forth. Spoiled, pampered, devil may care. Yet underneath that, a grit that is truly impressive."
"I am pleased I have made such a positive impression."
His tormenter grinned. "Oh, I doubt very much that you're pleased about anything right now."
Ezra's plan to ask another question was cut off by an even stronger charge. The strain on his arms grew heavier as he felt too weak to allow what little support his legs had provided to continue any longer. He'd lost any sense of how long this had all been going on. All he knew for certain was that he felt like a side of beef on a meat hook. He'd also lost count of the number of shocks he'd received. The last number he recalled tallying up was 24. He guessed there had been at least that many more since. Some were minor, mere tingles, but others reached to his very core. The intensity had varied each time, making it impossible to prepare for the next. The electronic pads had been placed in half a dozen sensitive spots on his body, so the source of the contact varied with each hit as well.
He had no idea who this was, or what he was after. Through Lord only knew how many hours – days? – of abuse, he hadn't been asked a single question. Not that he had much information to share, nor did he intend to breathe a word of what he did know. Still, it would've been satisfying to understand the motivation.
Sadly, it was now becoming more and more apparent that there was no motivation, at least not the sort he could cope with. This man was a sadist, with an equally warped young apprentice at his side. A pair of demented, maniacal sadists who, for whatever reason, had elected to target him. Which meant this was going to go on for as long as they were entertained by it. Or until Ezra died.
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"Last jolt knocked him out. Want me to revive him?" The young eager apprentice stood next to Ezra, pulling his head back to be upright again.
"No Theodore. Leave him for now. Raise the chains a few inches. Nothing more than toes to support him."
"How much longer are we going to be studying his ability to withstand this?"
"You're anxious to move onto the next stage?"
The young man shrugged. "I will admit, I'm curious to see how the drugs will work."
"And no doubt concerned I'm compromising the subject by weakening him too much." The younger man looked down timidly, not wanting to upset his mentor. "Never be afraid to defend your work Theodore. I will give our friend here time to recover before handing him over to you. I just have another day's activity in mind."
"When you gonna put him on the auction site?"
"Soon. Word of his status as missing is spreading amongst those who would like to see Standish pay for his role in their situations. Seeing him battered and broken will be aesthetically pleasing and no doubt increase our return." The older man smiled. "Come along Theodore. I believe it at dinnertime. We'll let Mr. Standish get some rest."
"What you have in mind next?" Theodore asked anxiously.
"You'll see." He teased, as he focused his gaze back to the collection of knives and tools along the back wall. Of course, the sound of a cracking whip had always been pleasing to him as well.
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tbc