Title: Exits
By: X
x0832001@yahoo.com
Rated: PG13-R ( I mean it too)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money
Summary: Harper's past, from the Neitzchiens to the Maru
A/N: Thank you to ElJay from the SlipstramBBS board for his title suggestion, and my friend Stacey for her suggestion for the Part titles.
Part 1: Inferior
"Man, they get younger everyday" commented Jerrick as they led in his latest victim. Jerrick was the torture master, an undisputed expert in prying information from his captives—through whatever means necessary. He'd studied the anatomy of dozens of species, knew what to do to make them suffer.
His latest charge was some kids who'd been leading raids on the barracks. They were swiping blankets and food, being quite a nuisance really. They'd spent entirely too long trying to track down where their supplies were disappearing to. They'd finally caught the little band of hoodlums in the act. The patrol had killed one of them, caught this one but had had to let the others escape to do it.
The two soldiers carried the boy in easily hoisted the runt onto Jerrick's table and strapped him down.
"Dose he have a name?" Jerrick asked the one who held the kid helpless against the cold metal table as his comrade tightened the buckles. The boy was squirming like a fish on a dock; desperate to break free and get home. Of course there was little chance the Neitzchiens would be careless enough to let that happen.
"Seamus" supplied the buckler.
"Seamus what?"
"He won't say." The boy was nearly growling as he fought to keep the solders from finishing.
"No matter, he'll tell me what I want to know" Jerrick sighed, they always did.
This kid was young, absolutely no older than 18. They were getting younger all the time. So young; Jerrick had a daughter about his age. His little princess, in a couple years she'd be choosing a mate. They really did grow up too fast.
This young man wouldn't be getting married anytime soon though. If Jerrick even let him live after he had the information he wanted the boy would be doomed to rotting away, alone, in the dark basement. Quite likely quickly forgotten about by even those who had put him down there. "This kid should pray I let him die." Jerrick muttered.
The solders left Jerrick to get to work. Jerrick sighed. Seamus was in wretched shape to begin with. If he wasn't careful the kluge might get out of this too quick and easy. He clearly came from the camp. Rail thin, bloodshot eyes and the thin white lines of scars spoke silently of years of hard times.
Not that any of that mattered one bit to Jerrick. They didn't pay him to feel bad for the kluges and their sorry little lives. They were inferior, natural law dictates they be held in submission to their genetic superiors. Let one little resistance member go unpunished because he makes you think of your daughter and pretty soon chaos reins.
"Well Seamus, looks like it's time to get started. Want to make it easy and tell me about your little band of hoodlums now?"
"Bite me Uber"
"Good, I hate it when you guys crack before I get to try anything." They'd already stripped Seamus to the waist. Strapped to the table his struggling did nothing more than allow Jerrick to watch the human's muscles contract. Muscles intrigued Jerrick. He ran his hand along Seamus' protruding ribs. The kid jerked and tensed up. He knew the torture was going to start now. Jerrick didn't disappoint him.
It started with a probe. Just a little a little metal stick, slightly bent on one end. It was cold against his skin, but not painful. This would be the least painful sensation he would have for a while mused Jerrick. Jerrick poked around his ribs for a minute and asked, "What is your last name Seamus?" Seamus didn't answer. In one quick motion Jerrick stabbed the probe into Seamus' chest. A very dull tool, the probe didn't get too deep. For the human though, it was an explosion of pain.
Seamus screamed in pain. Jerrick slowly used a towel to wipe the blood from his hands. Seamus was bleeding quite a bit, but Jerrick knew what he was doing. The tool had plunged through the skin and into muscle, but hadn't damaged any organs or main blood vessels. Seamus would live another day.
Using the towel Jerrick pressed the wound to slow the bleeding. The kid had a frail body and he couldn't afford to let him bleed to death on the first day. But, he'd made his point. He was the one in control here. Under the crimson stained towel and blood smeared skin Seamus was panting and gulping for air.
He hurt. The monster had stabbed him. One question and he'd been stabbed; not a good sign. Not that that meant he was going this guy anything. Oh sure he would scream, this was going to be the most painful experience of his young life. The only thing that would hurt more would be knowing he had betrayed the few family members and friends he had left and that they'd be Jerrick's next guests.
The lights were raised to the point Seamus had to squint. Just a little irritating bonus Jerrick loved to throw in. It was even better on Nightsiders. The blood was clotting nicely around the circular wound so Jerrick began again.
"What's your last name Seamus?"
"Bite me Uber" was the answer.
Jerrick decided to let the stab wound go for now and simple punched his charge in the side of the head.
"Is this more what you are used to Seamus? Street Violence?" He adjusted the table so Seamus was sitting up. This new position put more pressure on his puncture and allowed Jerrick better punching angles. "How about we start with this then?" his fist cleanly connected with human flesh. "I'll remind you of home, and you can tell me the rest of your name." The smack of skin hitting skin filled the bright little room. Purple and black bruises were already forming and darkening around his check bones.
"Bite me Uber"
Three days latter Seamus was a mass of bruises who could hardly keep his eyes open but refused to say more than the colorful phrase, "Bite me Uber." Jerrick decided it was time to change tactics. This was the start of Stage 2.
Seamus still hurt. He'd been in nothing but pain for 3 days. At some point someone other than Jerrick had come and given him water. He was thirsty he didn't even sniff it for poison. His cloudy brain just recognized- liquid- thirsty- drink. He knew today things were going to change, he could feel it. About an hour ago they had lowered the table again. Now he was staring at the ceiling; waiting for the next installment of doom and pain.
Level 2 torture was, as expected, worse than Level 1. It involved a knife, less bruising, and more blood. Jerrick ran the blade against the boy's concave stomach. They'd been giving him injections. 1600 Calories a day, not food, he was still starving, losing weight every day- but he wouldn't die for a while. A steady hand prevented even one drop of blood from being spilled; for now.
"Seamus, we can't move on until you are at least willing to tell me your last name."
"Bite me Uber!" he replied with gusto, fully expecting the knife to find a new home in his belly. He was past the point of worrying about it. Unless he betrayed everyone and told Jerrick what he wanted to know, the Neitzchien was going to hurt him. Seamus had no intention of giving in, so he might as well piss Jerrick off. Jerrick deserved to be pissed off. He deserved to be pissed on, but that was another matter. Of course Jerrick avoided the expected and didn't stab Seamus. He simply took the boy's hand in his and squeezed until he heard a couple of sickening cracks and felt a delightful crunch. Seamus yelped. He'd liked those fingers.
Jerrick ran his knife through the skin of his broken appendage, watching the blood trickle to the floor. "Tell-me-your-last-name-Seamus"
"Bite-me-Uber." Jerrick looked for the fear in Seamus' eyes, but didn't find any. That upset him a great deal.