Day 31: Today's Special: Torture
Alternate Prompt 5: Stoic Whumpees

(( it's been a long time since I've written torture, but this was fun! sorry, Xaerez
uh...make sure to read the warnings for this one. I might have gone a tad overboard- ))

Spoilers for: Imperial Agent story
Warnings: Major Character Injury, Violence, Blood/Gore, Knives, Permanent Injury, Torture*
- - - -*Poisoning, Cuts (shallow & to bone), Stabbing, Broken Bones, Dismemberment
Characters: Rediaex'aere'zortiea (Cipher Nine - Chiss), Unnamed Background Characters


His mask had been stripped away—it lay broken, smashed against the wall. With it gone, it hadn't taken long for him to earn a black eye and split lip; they'd been more annoyed than anything when he'd lifted his head to stare them right in the eyes, unfazed. His jacket was torn to tatters and now lay at his feet in two pieces; protective vest also pulled away and tossed off in a corner.

It left Xaerez in his simple undershirt that already had stains of his own blood—blood that dripped from his mouth, his nose, the cuts already scored across his skin. He didn't flinch when the electric prod was waved near his face, didn't twitch when a blade coated in…something, sliced into his bicep. He locked eyes with the man holding the prod—just daring him to use it again—and only grit his teeth and curled his hands into fists when the cut started to sting.

He knew his breaking point.

Unfortunately, so would they and they were having a grand old time taking it slow.

He'd already lost track of the time. The windows were covered so he couldn't see the time of day, his comm deactivated.

Tied to a chair, eyes scanning the room. His hearing implants were still humming from the last shock to make it difficult to make out what his captors said. It was getting harder to ignore the pain in his arm; stinging had turned to heat, as if a brand were being held to his flesh. It traveled down to his fingers, up through his shoulder, his neck. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Ignore it. There's worse to come, he told himself.

Over the course of what had to be an hour—two? more?—they tried other poisons. One numbed his arm, much to their annoyance. The worst of them had him tensing and hissing through his teeth, but he was almost disappointed in how ineffective it still was. They changed it up only when they realized the toxins weren't going to get them the desired results.

Xaerez wished they'd stuck with the poisons.

With a heavy pipe, they shattered one of his feet—or maybe the ankle? he couldn't tell, only knew it hurt and he couldn't move it without pain stabbing through it. He could feel the way the bones were splintered under the skin, threatening to stab through it. It was already bruised and swollen and he dreaded when he'd have to try and walk on it.

Blood ran down the opposite leg—his calf split open, knee to ankle. The blade had cut easily through his pantleg, scraped audibly against bone as it effortlessly tore through flesh and muscle. His breaths were ragged through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut, brows scrunched and fingers flexing against their restraints.

Still, he wouldn't say a word. Wouldn't beg. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction of tears or screams—no matter how much it hurt.

There were two vibroknives stabbed into his thigh; a third was in his back, buried under the shoulder blade. Sometimes the one with the scars slashed across his face would twist it to force Xaerez's arm into a different angle or he'd adjust the blade and pull, leaving the spy gasping and trying to lean with the blade as it felt like he was trying to pry the bone itself out of his back.

"Come on, Cipher…" one of them cooed as he held what Xaerez could only describe as clippers, maybe meant for trimming hedges. They were rusted and made a horrible screeching sound when the jaws snapped together, a screeching that left Xaerez's implants ringing long after the man stopped playing with the tool. "Just tell us what was in the report."

Deep breath. One more round. He could handle one more round. One more, and even Hunter would think the information was genuine. Xaerez raised his head to lock eyes with the one with the scarred face.

His responding glare had one of them sneering. "Unbelievable. Stubborn one, aren't you?"

Xaerez couldn't say he'd ever wanted to know what getting an extremity cut off felt like. His arms were twisted painfully against the back of the chair and the clippers locked onto one of his hands; he realized long before the sharp edges bit down what was about to happen.

His little finger went first. Rust scraped against his skin and his breath caught when the tool paused—stopped only by bone—and let out a strangled gasp when enough force was used for the tool to finally break through the finger. Even with his implants still humming, it seemed so, so loud… The sound of rusted metal scraping it, the snap of the bone and click of the tool when the edges could meet once more with nothing holding them apart? It was so clear in the dark room.

The second went before he'd even recovered from the first.

The tool locked onto the third, middle, finger.

The knuckle crunched in its jaws, and a cry broke in Xaerez's throat. It was an ugly sound, as if he were being strangled, and with it the room fell quiet. The only sound was the spy himself—his ragged, pained breathing.

He couldn't lift his head even when he tried, couldn't help but groan when he tried to curl his fingers only for severed tendons to pop.

"I—I'll talk! I'll talk…"