Disclaimer: I do not own Lilo and Stitch or any of the characters therein.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

PLEAKLEY'S DEMONS

Le'Kruune gave an order to his guards… something I couldn't understand because it was in another language. Whatever he had said seemed to have upset them, because they both exited the room grumbling angrily to themselves. As the infamous Kaizaxx leader grinned hungrily at me, I began to choke on my own fear.

"I know you did not destroy that input, Pleakley," he growled. "I can smell your lies like a fresh, steaming load of trog dung. You don't fool me. How dare you even try! On my edge of the universe, lies are ten times worse than those which your Federation types call 'war crimes.' They may seem brutal and merciless to you, but to us it is merely an honest extension of our hatred. Many of your very own Federation leaders are liars…they proceed to use diplomacy and justice when deep down inside most of them would much rather just rip the frigging heads off their adversaries. And yes, I believe many of them deserve that fate, yet all they get is a mere prison sentence or fine. But YOU -" he jabbed a clawed finger in my face, less than an inch from my eye and making me flinch, "You have the nerve to tell me your reasonings are justifiable and pure, and then you turn around and LIE!!!"

He screamed that last word in my face, his breath putrid with the smell of something dead and rotten. He quickly composed himself and started circling the table again. "If you were really the good citizen you claim to be, looking out for the welfare of your Federation, why not simply destroy the ZY input like you claimed to have done? Or, better yet, you could play mommy's brave little boy and admit that it still exists, but refuse under agony of death to ever breathe a word as to its whereabouts. What a noble choice that would have been. It certainly would have redeemed you in the eyes of the Federation. So, why take the coward's way out? What a big disappointment that would be to your mother, to find out that her son refuses to lie in the grave he's dug for himself, and who refuses to face up to the very person who reduced her to whoring herself out for a few measly bucks just to keep you alive!!!"

He stopped circling then, and stood on my left side, frowning down at me. "So you see, Pleakley, lies ARE painful. Not only do they hurt the receiver, they hurt the liar as well." From somewhere outside of my line of vision he produced a small, shapeless black object. He flicked a switch on the side of it, and I saw the blue spark of electricity that told me it was a tazer. "And now it's time for the test portion of your lesson." He leaned over me, grinning maliciously as he brought the shocking device up toward my face. "How much pain are you willing to endure before you break and surrender the truth?"

* * * *

When I awoke, I found myself still strapped to that stainless steel table in the middle of that empty room. Le'Kruune was gone, and it was dark. I had no idea how many hours had passed since I had passed out from the shock torture, but I knew it had been a few at least. I started struggling against my bonds. A faint whirring sound caught my attention, and I began to wonder if the room was under surveillance. That thought was confirmed when, a few moments later, Le'Kruune entered the room, turning the lights on. Once my eye adjusted to the light I looked about frantically for a camera, and sure enough, I spotted one in an obscure position above the door. Obviously Le'Kruune had been waiting for me to regain consciousness.

"Well!" he said pleasantly, smiling as warmly as an old friend. "That was a rather long nap, to say the least. I trust you are refreshed enough and ready for round two?"

My heart gave a painful wrench at his words, and I couldn't stop a loud whimper from escaping my mouth.

"Good!" he replied cheerfully. "Very good!"

Despite his intimidating appearance, he had a certain lilt and charm that would have fooled the Federation's foremost diplomats into believing he was a jolly, amiable individual, and not the head of a heartless terrorist group…and those diplomats were not easily fooled. He started circling the table again, something he obviously enjoyed, holding his chin in the air thoughtfully, that pleasant smile still in place. It looked as though he was trying to decide what kind of torture to use on me next. After a minute or two he stopped, this time on my right side, looking down at me almost pitifully.

"You know, I'm quite surprised that you didn't break under the tazer. In fact, you might say I'm shocked!" he snickered at his own joke. "But seriously, a little zip-zap here and there is really nothing compared to what I could do to you with my bare hands."

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, then drew them together into a fist. Before I could register that he punched me hard in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of me. It felt like something had exploded in my gut. Before I could catch my breath, he struck me again, this time square in the face. Burning red magma erupted in my brain, and my eye immediately began to swell. When I finally managed to open it, everything was red. My temples throbbed. Talk about a migraine! I was hardly aware of Le'Kruune's curses and demands as he swiped at me again, this time with his open hand. Inch long talons raked against my face and chest repeatedly, leaving a burning sting and steady flow of blood in their wake. And still I refused to talk.

Le'Kruune was huffing and puffing by the time he quit the attack. He even appeared to be sweating a little. He quickly regained composure and strode off toward the door. My head was spinning violently and my ears were ringing, but I made good to keep my focus on him. For one hope-filled moment I thought he was going to leave, but instead he stopped at the door and pressed a button on the panel beside it. He spoke foreign words into the communicator, and a muffled voice replied. Then he walked back along the wall to where a cushioned hover chair waited, and sat down on it. A few minutes later a guard came in, bearing a small, plain-looking box.

* * * *