So its been awhile since I made an update to this fic. (Been busy with revision) Anyway, this is a very dark chapter. Strong language and gore here, but otherwise enjoy
Control, Federal FOB, Federal Army, Chorus
Distance to New Republic FOB: 530 miles
Interrogation Chamber. Overseer: Locus
The human body is a fascinating subject. It is a surprisingly resilient, efficient organism which responds and adapts to any threat posed. Muscles work as neurons begin to react through synapses sent from the brain. Bones, four times more durable than concrete structure the flesh through each and every fibre. A patchwork of sinew and flesh. And in response to foreign invasion, a sophisticated digestive and immune system to flush out and eliminate the plague or keep it at bay at the least.
However, even such a sophisticated example of biology had its limits. And that's where the real fun comes. For all its resilience, the human body can come apart so easily. The amount of pressure applied to a cubic inch of bone could be up to 19,000 pounds, but surely the equivalent of weight of several trucks would leave it deformed. The pain was clearly significant, especially how each limb could be crushed into a red, pasty remnant of tissue and bone. The nervous system was a clear part of this, so Locus had decided to ease his subjects' discomfort by dissecting the specific nerve clusters in the arms, back and legs.
Locus stood idly in the voluminous chamber, casually overlooking a trio of Republic prisoners writhe and gasp in agony, their vocal chords torn from hours of screaming and dehydrated lungs. Whilst it was no surprise that he enjoyed this part of the job; to feed his fascination on a human being's reaction to trauma, physical, psychological or otherwise, even he found this becoming repetitive. He had asked again and again where the New Republic's base was, and the whereabouts of the Reds and Blues, but still all he got were pleas of ignorance, idiotic one-liners and a few curses.
Oh well, he thought. Makes breaking them all the more fun
Interrupting his train of thought, a Federation soldier had come up to him. "Sir, Colonel Sinclair is here, he wants to oversee the interrogations" He said
Locus chuckled. Of course, the Bloody Raven wants to pick off the last remaining pieces of flesh. This was going to be juicy.
"Understood, I'll prepare some of my more resilient guests for his inspection"
The soldier nodded and opened the chamber door to leave. The moment he opened it, he jumped back, stepping aside at the black-red armoured soldier right outside.
"That won't be necessary, Locus. I'd prefer to see all of these men. If they can't crack, we'll just have to break them open".
Locus smirked, looking up at the commander. "In that case, Colonel. we've got 3 men here", he droned, gesturing to the three bloody, bruised bodies racked up behind him. "Two Privates and a Corporal. A few broken bones, lacerations around the spine, nervous system been mostly dissected. The usual. I made sure to only remove so much in the limbs and leave the spinal cord intact. We both know they'd do better at interrogation if they weren't paralysed"
Sinclair let out a deep, thoughtful hum at that and turned to the prisoners.
"I see Locus has had his go at you" Sinclair asked, in a mockingly affable tone. "Painful, isn't it?" he said, idly tapping the mutilated mess that was once the Corporal's left arm, making the prisoner half-heartedly wheeze in pain, his lungs worn out by hours of screaming, no doubt.
"Continuing from that, are any of you boys still capable of speaking?" The Corporal shakily raised his head, his motor functions impaired from the damage done to his nerves. As he meant the Colonel's gaze, his only functioning eye narrowed at Sinclair as he gritted his teeth, stuttering from the pain. "G-g-go to h-hell!", he spat, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.
Sinclair shook his head and tutted. "Been there, done that, friend" he replied, nonchalantly. Then, as fast as a snake, he grabbed the soldier's neck, digging two clawed fingers into the two pressure points located at the base of the jawline. As the soldier rasped out, struggling to get out of the Colonel's iron grip, the other two shook and shouted with all of their remaining strength. "Wait, wait, we have the co-ordinates to the base".
Sinclair deftly turned his head to the other two, his hand still gripping the Corporal's neck. "I'm listening".
"We…We have a GPS system built into our helmets. Our commanders built them in, in case we ever got lost".
Locus folded his arms and frowned. "We've already checked your armour, and from what we've seen, your helmet's data feeds was erased the moment we took it off you"
"Though I take it you would have back-ups for that data, in case someone did something stupid and erased that data even if they were lost?" Sinclair asked, looking at the two Privates.
The younger one nodded his head, his features indistinguishable with blood and bruised flesh. "Yes, we stored them in a old data unit. It's in the backpack".
Releasing the man from his hold, Sinclair turned to the soldier at the door, the prisoners' armour strewn by the side and nodded. Gingerly, the fed opened the back compartment and rummaging through the crap they'd brought with them; snacks, spare ammo, he finally pulled out the data unit. Locus took the unit and plugged it into his helmet. As he glanced through the data in the HUD, a navpoint flashed at him in green, reading.
New Republic Base of Operations: 28º 4' 14" N / 4º 6' 6'' E
"I have the location, sir." Locus replied.
"Excellent. Now…"
Suddenly, Locus picked up a call on his com link. Locus grimaced. It was Carolina
"Yes, sir?"
"Locus", came the distorted voice. Still using the voice filter, huh? "I'm at rendezvous to your position ETA 30 minutes, I expect to see the sim troopers intact when I arrive. Otherwise we may have to rework our little deal.
"I understand, sir. They're how I left them…found them".
"Good. And the package?"
"Intact and waiting for pickup" the mercenary replied
"Understood. Out"
Sinclair looked on with curiosity. "Do you think she still believes you're working for her?"
Locus looked pensive "Hard to say, I've got squads on standby if she does anything stupid"
"They wouldn't stand a chance against her" Sinclair replied. "No matter, we can deal with her when it comes to a head".
"Y-you think you're s-so great, don't you, asshole" The Corporal spat, struggling against his shackles. Having momentarily forgotten about them, Sinclair snapped back to his prisoners. "You're not a fucking soldier, you're just an animal!" He continued to rant, not noticing Sinclair tensing himself, clearly getting angry. "Just. Like. Daddy!"
There was a long silence. The two Privates next to him flinched and held their breath, the Fed at the side stepped back, anticipating the explosion whilst Locus looked on at the Colonel, waiting for him to make his move.
Then Sinclair slowly walked towards the Corporal. As he stood just inches from the man's face, he drew his claws. "You know what animals do, don't you?" he growled, his normally monotone voice, now harsh and guttural. As if suddenly rejuvenated, the Corporal let out a piercing scream as Sinclair shoved his fingers through his gut, making sharp, but controlled gestures as intestines started to sputter from the gaping wounds in his torso. Suddenly wrenching his hand free, he turned to the two Privates, the look of terror on their distorted faces perfectly clear. Raising his bloody hand, he punched the nearest prisoner square in the face, the man's face caving in from the force as his neck bent backwards with a loud snap.
Letting out an angry hiss, Sinclair began to compose himself and turned to the last soldier, his deformed body rattling with revitalised vigour.
"Do you have anything else to add?" The Colonel asked, his voice returning to its calm monotone. The Private vigorously shook his head, wincing from the pain.
"That's what I thought. Locus, give the order to have our squads on high alert, and bring out the sim troopers. I want to meet them, see if they're really what I've heard. But first, clean this guy up". Sinclair droned, turning to the door, the Fed next him hesitatingly followed.
The Private turned to Locus, who having drawn a Magnum, wisely chose to close his remaining eye as a shot rang out and everything went red, then black.
