Behind Closed Doors

The human psyche is a rather odd thing.

The human mind reacts to situations in a way that works contrary to what logic would usually dictate. When faced against a threat that the human in question is uncertain of their ability to survive against, the logical decision would be to flee and avoid the threat at all costs. The human mind instead, gives off two completely different options. The human mind will react by either preparing to fight, preparing to run, or even do a little of both. When the human mind is encountered with a non-winnable situation, it often holds onto the hope that there is a means of escape that hasn't been located yet. On the other hand of the spectrum, when an option to succeed is visible but nearly impossible, the human mind sinks to acceptance and depression more often than not.

Scientists have been at work to discover the inner workings of the human psyche for as long as people were able to conceive the concept of a psyche. Despite this, there are many things about the human mind that have yet to be solved or even properly explained.

One certainty however, is the human mind's tendencies when placed under pressure, pain, stress, and overall suffering.

xxXxx

In the United States of America there was a multitude of PWCD bases. The nation had a sizable population, and a rather large number of youkai living in the country incognito. The creatures in the states weren't nearly as much of a problem as they were in other parts of the world. This was generally assumed because America had the title of 'world's strongest military', and wore the title like a medal. Just as well, the U.S. was home to the most successful businesses in the world, which attracted the attention of many wealthy non-human investors, who most of which tended to be vampires. The combination of the country being a vampire hotspot, and home to the most powerful human military made the youkai of the area a lot less rowdy than usual. This left most of the PWCD bases in America with little to no activity as far as anti-youkai operations went.

Area 51 was one of those bases.

In the lower levels of the Nevada base, the various members of the base were in motion. After all, why wouldn't they be? For the first time in years, something was taking place inside the PWCD base that was worthy of note. It wasn't anything large, like the several bases in Japan frequently dealt with. It was something much more casual.

A prisoner had been brought in to the base.

A non-human prisoner was to be interrogated, and apparently this prisoner was special enough for a quite a few noteworthy people to arrive for viewing. The PWCD president himself had appeared at the base, which made the usually lax environment of the base extremely tense and tidy. And he wasn't the only guest of honor either. The U.S. secretary of defense had made an appearance as well. The little information that could be found about this prisoner had become nearly common knowledge to anyone on the premises. This prisoner had been captured in a joint operation between the USMC and PWCD, which made the U.S. order that they observe and learn firsthand what the prisoner had to say. The PWCD would've preferred taking their prisoner to a base in Japan, where they would have full control over how the treatment of the prisoner went.

So a compromise was reached.

A PWCD base established in Nevada was to host this event while the U.S. government sent a single person to oversee it. In this way, the black operations organization would be able to work without any outside handicaps, just like they preferred. In exchange, the U.S. would know full well how the PWCD dealt with inhuman prisoners as well as any information that could be useful, such as why the prisoner had been sabotaging their operations.

When a time frame for how long the interrogation would last had been asked by the secretary of defense, the PWCD president informed the man that the interrogation itself would likely only last a few hours to a day. This was stated with complete confidence. The U.S. secretary smirked, thinking it was a joke. After all, some of the prisoners the U.S. had captured required several months of non-stop interrogation before they finally cracked. The PWCD president simply responded with this statement:

"We aren't handicapped by humanitarian laws."

The U.S. secretary of defense was confused by his words until they finally reached the observation room, which let them see into the screening room.

On the other side of a one-way glass was a single man in an all-white tile room. The room held one desk and two chairs, one of which held the prisoner himself. He was stripped of every single article of clothing save for his undergarments, clamped to a reinforced steel chair, and had been left without anything to eat for a day. No one had entered the room to talk to him for the entire time, simply leaving him there to sit. The prisoner certainly looked human if the defense secretary was asked. He had brown hair and blue eyes, an unusual but not unheard of combination. He was well built and sharp, but clearly not a trained soldier. The U.S. secretary couldn't exactly explain why, but this man gave him the impression of a trained killer without showing any mannerisms an actual soldier would demonstrate. It was like he was somewhat prepared for this situation, but not actually sure what would happen over the course of his interrogation.

Finally, the door opened.

The U.S. secretary had to pause and take off his glasses for a moment as he got a look at his first augment. What he saw was something he realized that he'd never forget. Standing in the doorway was a man in PWCD fatigues that was easily over 7ft in height. He actually had to bend down to enter the room. The second thing he noticed, aside from his height, was his massive build. It looked like he had muscles stacked on top of other muscles! His face wasn't anything super outlandish. A strong jaw, brown eyes, and black hair. He looked plenty dangerous by his size alone, but something else disturbed the U.S. secretary about this man. The way he looked at the prisoner with silent glee had convinced the defense secretary that he was more a monster than the man they were interrogating!

This was what Jarvis looked like outside of his armor.

The prisoner himself had a look of resolved defiance imprinted onto his face the second he saw his interrogator enter. He had subconsciously made a promise to not break, for the well-being of the magical world. As both a magus and enforcer, he could never be broken by a normal man. No matter how many pharmaceutical drugs they fed their men to be colossal meat heads, that wouldn't help in any interrogation! All he needed to do was harden his skin and bones and he'd breeze through the supposed 'torture' they would threaten him with. The only reason he didn't overly reinforce his bindings past the breaking point was because he had nowhere else to go or escape. He was trapped but not weak.

Ignoring the prisoner's gaze, Jarvis wheeled in a cart with a rather... interesting set of tools on it. Beside the typical surgery knife that was known to induce fear in prisoners, Jarvis had brought things that far exceeded most people's definition of 'humane'. He had brought along a car battery and jumper cables in addition to the knife set, a few injection needles filled with strange substances, a gasoline lighter, and a few other unmentionable tools. Interestingly enough, a timer was among the tools Jarvis had brought along. The U.S. secretary could only gawk as the man wheeled the cart straight past the prisoner and toward the door behind him, confusing both him and the restrained magus. The door opened and led into a dark room where there was nothing but a table inside.

Jarvis shut the door behind himself so he could set up his workstation without prying eyes.

The U.S. secretary turned to look at the President of the PWCD, giving him a stare that demanded answers for what he was about to see. The President of the black ops organization simply told the man to get comfortable, and watch a master of his craft at work. The leader of the black ops organization claimed that Jarvis hadn't simply been picked because he had been the one to bring down the prisoner and his contemporaries in the first place. He was as highly rated as an interrogator as he was a soldier, but it was clear that the first option was where his passion truly lied.

The defense secretary wondered if it was too late to turn and leave now.

xxXxx

Jarvis had set up an improvised torture room in under 10 minutes. Now that he had everything he would need, he reentered the all-white room and took a seat in front of his prey.

This was the part of the job that Jarvis enjoyed the most. Breaking a person's spirit was much more satisfying than simply killing them in Jarvis' opinion. The knowledge that he had the power to break someone's very mind and personality was like a drug he physically couldn't overdose on.

Jarvis asked the typical questions he had been tasked with getting the answers to. Who, What, When, Where, and Why.

Who were he and his allies?

What were those inhuman powers they had demonstrated before?

When, and for how long since then, have you and your friends been operating like you have?

Where is your staging point or base of operations?

Why were you and your allies destroying information that the PWCD and U.S. government had a vested interest in obtaining?

As was typical, the man in question did and said nothing. All he did was glare into the augment's eyes with something that resembled both anger and superiority. It was the look of a man who was convinced that he had a huge advantage over you, and the only reason he didn't brag was because he would lose that advantage as a result. Jarvis suspected that the prisoner had a way to get out of his bindings, but no indication of such.

Of course, Jarvis had his kukri knife in a sheath on the back of his fatigue pants. If the enforcer tried anything, Jarvis was prepared to go a lot farther than asphyxiation if the prisoner so dared.

So without wasting any further time trying to talk with a man who clearly wouldn't speak, Jarvis got up, grabbed the back of the man's chair and pulled him into the dark room that he had prepared just for the occasion. He ignored the magi's surprised yells of 'where was he taking him'. Jarvis sincerely hoped that it was a genuine question and not a frightened response. If his torture victim began breaking down before he even began, then this would be a short interrogation. Jarvis liked his 'fun time' long and drawn out. He was out of the screening room and this place was soundproof. Nothing would restrict him here.

As a quick experiment, Jarvis plucked the magi's arm, and found it was nearly as hard as sheet metal. This meant that simply hacking into his victim with a knife wouldn't work, not that Jarvis preferred that method anyway. Apparently this person's abilities were indeed internal and not born from the clothes he wore to the fight. That made things a little more difficult, but Jarvis never did things simply because they were easy.

Jarvis planted his right index finger and thumb against the top and bottom of the magi's eyeball. The surprised magi made to blink and turn away the augment's hand but Jarvis simply responded by plopping the rest of his right hand into the magi's face and pushing his head against the seat. With the head immobilized, he forced the eyelids wide apart and held them there. With his left hand, he picked up one of the needles on his cart.

The magi saw the syringe and immediately realized what the man holding him down was meaning to do. No struggling helped however, as Jarvis closed in on the magi. A noise between a groan and a yell was heard as the syringe poked in just beneath the eyeball and into one of the many veins running through the eye socket.

Jarvis backed away, waiting a few minutes for the effect to come in.

The man was blinking uncomfortably and he seemed to be shivering noticeably. The room was just below room temperature, so of course he'd be cold. As he was now however, the magi was starting to react to it. This meant his skin was getting increasingly sensitive, no matter how much it was hardened. Jarvis had given the magi a drug. He forgot exactly what it was called, but the effects made the receiver's skin highly sensitive. Jarvis walked by and gave the man another pluck on the arm, and smiled when he actually saw the prisoner's arm jerk away in response, rather than lightly tense as it had before.

Jarvis walked over to the car battery he had set up, using one of the nearby wall outlets as a charger. He took the jumper cables and attached them both to the car battery. Then, he took the two other sides and idly tapped them together.

ZAP!

The enforcer flinched upon seeing the electricity. He wasn't much up to date on technology, but he wasn't a complete shut-in. He knew what jumper cables were used for, but he didn't realize they could be used on another human being! The magi took a breath and looked Jarvis square in his eyes as he began to speak.

"Alright! Alright. I'll talk." The enforcer exclaimed. Jarvis hesitated on his approach with the jumper cables.

The magi repressed a smirk as he watched the muscle bound idiot before him pause. All he had to do was pretend to answer their questions, possibly make up some story about him being of the witch species and he'd be fine. After all, there was no way they could really ascertain if he was lyi-

"Not interested." Jarvis walked behind the magi's chair with his jumper cables in hand.

"Wha-? WAIT!" The magus screamed in confusion. He was too little, too late.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZA AAAP!

xxXxx

The next 15 minutes went by agonizingly, both literally and figuratively.

For the prisoner, it was the longest 15 minutes of his life. He made an admirable job of holding in his pain, but his tormentor knew better. It was common for prisoners to endure as best as they possibly could at first. Jarvis would've been disappointed otherwise, as that would've meant that even petty terrorists and militia members had more toughness about them than the supposed inhuman powerhouse under his care.

Slowly but surely however, the man's facade began to shatter. Every new sensation of pain steadily chewed away at the magi's resolve. Every wound he suffered brought on some sick thrill in his tormentor that only inspired him to top himself. The magi made numerous pleas that he'd talk, but the augment ignored every single one. The magi had planned on simply lying his way out, but Jarvis didn't know that. Nor did he care. When the 15 minutes were up, the magi would have every chance to explain himself. Until then, this was Jarvis' happy time and no one would interrupt.

The timer went off.

Jarvis stopped, just now realizing that he was on a time table. He'd have to pace himself on the torture, as he was being observed after all. Turning the timer off, Jarvis flipped off the switch powering the car battery, and removed the jumper cables from the magi's chair. The prisoner was allowed a moment of reprieve, though his body was certainly better off without it.

Jarvis had given the magi another shot at around the 10 minute mark in this session, which was a boost of pure adrenaline. The magus' body began to pump more blood and offered some numbness to the various cuts, burns, and shocks that Jarvis inflicted, to a degree. During the time that the prisoner was mostly numb to pain, Jarvis had begun adorning the man in light cuts and burns. Nothing that would be life threatening, or even that painful at the moment.

Then, once Jarvis let the prisoner rest, all those 'insignificant' wounds came back full force.

The magi could only groan in agony as his wounds began to sting and ache with intensity. It was one thing to feel a wound when your adrenaline was pumping, as your mind and body were much too active to acknowledge it. After said adrenaline wore off however, all that pain came back tenfold.

Jarvis looked on in approval as the magus began shaking and hyperventilating in his chair, sure signs of him going into shock. Jarvis did nothing but let it run its course. He wasn't an amateur after all. He knew how to pace and control just how much injury he inflicted to the human body. Humans, augmented humans, and witches, all had about the same general levels of pain tolerance before they finally gave into shock, and Jarvis made sure that he didn't do enough for the overall result to be lethal. He briefly considered pouring some water over the prisoner to ease away the potential life threatening infections, but decided against it. The pain it would induce may cause the prisoner to pass out.

Of course he was assuming that the man before him was indeed semi-human, but the autopsy reports on the killed magi had indeed proven such. The only oddity in the found bodies that was distinguishing them from humans was the presence of some odd organ which differed in size slightly in each body. It was assumed that this organ was what produced those powers, but the method of how it was done was still a mystery to be seen. Regardless, it meant that if Jarvis was to treat the man before him as he would a human, then his methods wouldn't be too little or too much for the prisoner to handle.

The magus finally settled into a normal breathing pattern and slumped into his chair, looking like he had walked through hell.

Jarvis grabbed his chair and dragged the heavily tortured magi back into the screening room.

xxXxx

The U.S. secretary of defense averted his eyes upon seeing the condition of the prisoner once he had been dragged back into view.

The PWCD president on the other hand, looked on without batting an eye. Too him, this was all too familiar. Humanity didn't have firsthand intelligence to go by in non-human areas. They couldn't use cameras, spies, and recording devices to their benefit. As such, the primary way of getting Intel for the PWCD was interrogation. Seeing as most of the creatures the PWCD interrogated usually held themselves in too high an opinion (or humanity in too low an opinion) to divulge information, they had to revert to torture frequently. Since those same creatures had a greater tolerance of pain, and usually a more firmly set mind than most humans, humanitarian handicaps had to be done away with.

In short, for the sake of getting information, there was no interrogation method too inhumane to employ.

Jarvis knew this and the PWCD president knew this. The latter was merely impassive to the practice, while the former absolutely reveled in it. The defense secretary could only watch silently in morbid fascination as Jarvis pulled the abused magi up to the desk, and sat himself down on the opposite side. The augment paused, realizing he had forgotten something important. He went back into the dark room to get the one syringe he hadn't used during his session with the magus prisoner.

The truth serum. It was a drug that was often used on individuals with vital information. It was simply injected into the bloodstream and had the effect of both getting the receiver 'high' and relaxed. It fogged the mind up to the point that the receiver may not remember what it was they were trying to hide in the first place. In essence, it loosened the tongue better than any alcohol could, with no major lasting effects to speak of.

The PWCD president took this moment to inform the U.S. secretary of defense what was happening.

This was a favored method for PWCD interrogators, which always met with impressive results. The interrogator would ask the prisoner a set of questions in the same order he had first asked them. After every answer, if the prisoner answered at all, the interrogator would consult the lie detector, a machine that picked up any unsteadiness, shift in posture, or altered pitch in voice to determine whether or not the statements that were made were true. Of course the interrogator did this from a hand-held device so that the prisoner wouldn't know that a machine was analyzing his every movement. Nor were they aware what the injection they received beforehand was. The truth serum made one's body much more obvious to read, which in turn made the lie detector that much more effective.

If the machine claimed that a single answer was false, then the interrogator would simply state that the prisoner was lying and drag him back into the dark room for another session of torture. In those sessions, the prisoner's every attempt to claim he would willingly speak was to be ignored. In this way, an unspoken ultimatum was made to the prisoner.

'Answer the question truthfully the first time... or else'.

It was more of a mind game than anything. With the hidden presence of a lie detector being used in combination with the truth serum, no matter how good a liar one was, they would never be able to conceal the truth. The fact that their every lying attempt was being seen through with ease would steadily shatter their confidence. The added torture sessions, through which they couldn't talk their way out of, was simply added pressure to the psyche. To the prisoners being interrogated, it seemed as if their interrogator could see right through their facades with unsettling ease, and ruthlessly punish them for every attempt at lying. It was like the interrogator could see into their minds and peel back their every secret. It was more of a psychiatric assault then it was a physical one.

And once the torture was done, the interrogator simply restated his questions, including the ones the prisoner had already answered. It only stopped when the prisoner answered every single question with honesty, as any prolonged reprieve would give the prisoner a chance to get their wits together, and be that much harder to break.

The only times this method could fail was when the prisoner themselves were aware of the method being used, and even then, they had to have the state of mind to endure the torture. Since that had never happened before, the PWCD made sure that every single interrogator they had knew of this method.

The U.S. secretary of defense was certain that this interrogation violated the Geneva code several times over, spat in the face of humanitarian treatment, and possibly even damaged the state of mind of the interrogators who employed this method frequently. Despite all that, he couldn't argue with the results.

The magi had already answered the first question with honesty. He lied on the second question.

Who were he and his allies?

"Enforcers."

Jarvis nodded in satisfaction when the lie detector reinforced his statement as true.

What were those inhuman powers they had demonstrated before?

"Witchcraft."

Jarvis paused as the lie detector called the statement a lie.

Not that he was surprised. The way the man had to intentionally break and reconnect eye contact before responding already made it clear he was intending on lying. Regardless, Jarvis stood up from his chair and began walking around the desk, toward the magus prisoner.

"You're lying."

The magi made to struggle and resist against his bindings, but could do nothing as he was dragged back into the dark room to endure another session of torture. Jarvis shut the door to the dark room rather ominously once both he and his prisoner were on the other side.

The U.S. secretary of defense asked how many people came out of this interrogation without any long term mental scarring. The PWCD president responded to that question by saying that out of the non-humans who endured the torture, less than 20% of them didn't commit suicide soon after. Of that number, an even smaller percentage were still eligible of being labeled as sane.

Of those 20% who didn't take their own lives, all of them were abruptly executed through a lethal injection. If you had such essential information as to warrant such a method of interrogation being used, than you were better off dead so as to avoid any future incidents. Once again, a practice that conflicted with the Geneva code. Once again, a worldwide law that was bypassed by virtue of the victims not being applicable to the Geneva code.

The U.S. defense secretary requested to his government that someone else be sent in his place next time something like this happened.

xxXxx

"This is fucking stupid." Javier grunted

Jacob could only nod his head in agreement as he and his squad rode the Njal carrier across Japan. His squad wasn't the only occupants, as Tia Harribel and her fraccion; Apacci, Sung-Sun, and Mila-Rose were strapped into the seats just like they were. Rather than wearing their traditional style of dress, they were wearing PWCD fatigues and combat boots. The PWCD normally wasn't big on uniforms, but it wouldn't be good for their overall image if women were sent into combat zones in questionable attire while identifying themselves as belonging to their organization. And even still, 2 of the 4 girls had managed to make the black and gray colors of the baggy uniform look somewhat unprofessional. Jacob shook the thought off, deciding to disregard them for as long as possible.

Grave team had been deployed to the monster world, and for a mission that wouldn't be combat based at that. Jacob and his squad mates, Avery, Eli, Javier, and 'Specter' were being sent to strictly monster held territory for some obscure reason that defied all logic and common sense.

They were going on a peaceful mission that required interaction with 'friendly' Youkai at some place called 'Youkai Academy'.

It was an all monster high school that trained monsters to integrate with humanity seamlessly. Apparently it had been a topic of interest during the peace talks between the United Nations council and the Youkai delegation. The principal of the school had claimed that his school was so successful that a human child had begun attending the school, and interacted with the students perfectly, despite them being non-human.

Eli claimed that that particular statement was probably untrue, as the very first day on Eli's temporary station as a 'resource officer', a serious attempt had been made on the boy's life by one of the female students. He did add that said woman apologized the day after and seemed to have become friends with Tsukune before they had been diverted to the war in Japan. Everyone gave the Jamaican augment an odd look at the last comment. People didn't typically become friends after one tried to kill the other. Eli's response was simply 'They're hormonal teenagers. What do you expect?'

Due to this mission having the overall goal of being non-violent, they were going in without any power armor. They were wearing fatigues, bulletproof vests, knee and shoulder pads, and had any armaments of their choosing. Apparently the PWCD commanders wanted an intimidating presence out of their augments without going for the full-on menacing effect that 5 power armored super soldiers would have on the youkai. After all, humanity didn't make it a secret that they were one bad incident away from an attempted non-human genocide, and the monsters were plenty paranoid of humans as it was. Speaking of non-humans, Jacob had to question why if this was supposedly peaceful, what exactly the arrancar were doing tagging along.

The response he received was that the PWCD wanted their arrancar to get some 'field experience', no matter how miniscule or unnecessary it was. Jacob could've sworn the operations commander snickered slightly when he saw the irritated glare being sent his way.

Well, truth be told, Jacob wasn't too worried about how the arrancar would act. They seemed to be willing to at least humor his orders, and Eli was good friends with the de-facto arrancar leader of the group. It was more the fact that he would potentially have to worry about leading non-humans against non-humans that pissed him off. And aside from that, none of them were even capable of fighting conventionally. They all were armed with melee weapons and their typical arrancar powers, which meant that the only combat order he could really give them was 'attack' or 'don't attack'. They didn't have any special forces training or experience as was mandatory to any combat personnel in the PWCD. Anything more complicated than pointing out who to kill was better left being tasked to one of his squad mates. The arrancar didn't fight with any cooperation, synergy, or coherency. They simply tried to break off into a bunch of one-on-one fights, which was ineffective against the PWCD military then, and would probably be so now.

And what pissed him off the most was the fact that his squad was chosen by virtue of having the most 'non-hostile experience' with both youkai and hollows. Jacob made it a point to pull aside Eli and tell him to stop being so damn nice to monsters and hollows at some point. He was certain that he was the sole reason his team was suddenly the go-to group for human/monster relations.

What's more, what exactly were 5 armed augments and 4 arrancar going to do at a school that taught monsters how to be human? Jacob almost lost his posture and blew up when he heard the answer to that question. 2 groups of soldiers who were both veterans of a battle through which they had fought each other, were traveling toward a third party's territory for the sake of 'building up relations'. They would be the temporary security while a representative elected by the United Nations toured the school. Normally, the leaders of the U.N. were all supposed to send people to show up during events like this, but decided not to do so for... a lot of reasons. So they sent a single person who would be guarded by a team of 5 augments and 4 arrancar. That last tidbit was rather interesting, considering the man probably couldn't even see the arrancar. The only reason the augments could was because all the reiatsu being thrown around in Karakura had made around 93% of all the augments in the city spiritually aware.

Jacob was usually proud to call himself a member of the PWCD spec-ops, but today he only felt embarrassment. He swore this was a combination of 'misuse of resources' and 'questionable decisions' occurring right before him.

Specter, the squad sniper, was fiddling around with his rifle. Eli was conversing with Harribel about her progress in unarmed fighting, which earned him a strange look from her 3... fracciones were they called? Avery and Javier were talking to each other about which gun was more destructive, a shoulder carried minigun or an AA-12 with explosive rounds. The three fracciones were all whispering to each other about something while eyeballing Eli suspiciously.

This was the crack team of soldiers that the PWCD operations commander had expected for him to be combat-capable with.

Sometimes life simply wasn't fair.

xxXxx