His vision fading back into some obscurity, DC found himself in an unknown room, with at least two heavily armed rebels at the ready, to ask questions, and, put simply, just make life for him inside that hellhole even more difficult than it had been if he didn't comply.
DC's mind, still racing from what he had done, and how he had potentially jeopardised his fellow soldiers, was in complete overdrive.
The relative silence of the room dissipated, broken by a single voice; "Prisoner, remain where you are. Do not attempt to move. If you attempt to do anything else to defy us, one false move, then you will be tortured. Remain where you are."
"Easy." DC thought, "Just sit here and let them manipulate you like a puppet, letting them control your ability to stay in the fight. Not in this lifetime. Just remember your training."
"Prisoner! Do not move! If you attempt to escape or attack us, deadly force will be used." This was when the real shit started.
"What is your operating number? Who are you working for? Why are you here? What is your name? Who are you working for? What is your operating number?"
Silence. Complete, bitter silence. Albeit, not for long.
His stare at the wall remained, almost as if he was dreaming, to an earlier time where he didn't have all the problems he already did. Where he had once loved someone, he had friends; where he had an existence beyond that of his place in the program. But all of that was gone. He had left his family the first chance he had gotten. He left his friends. And, he was never coming back. One of the only people he thought he had truly loved was never to be seen by him again.
The interrogation lasted for several hours. Still no response.