Author's notes: Remember kiddies when I warned that some sections might be higher rated? That some might contain graphic and disturbing violence? This would be that chapter. Please, this chapter is rated R. If you are at all sensitive to torture and violence, please do not read this chapter. I do not want to offend anyone, but I also wanted to show how horrible it could be.
I'll say it again loudly:
DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ ABOUT GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND/OR TORTURE.
Other general disclaimers apply, this is my own sick and twisted imagination, and many thanks to my husband and his time as an Army interrogator for his help on helping to make this as realistic as I could. I do not own GI Joe, nor do I claim to, nor do I make money from this. Please don't sue.
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"Without a thought without a voice without a soul, don't let me die here, there must be something more; bring me to life" Evanescence, "Bring Me to Life"
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Conrad was settled fairly comfortably on Shana's living room couch. He was sleeping off the effects of the alcohol they consumed earlier when he heard an ear splitting scream. He leapt up from the couch, following the sound of the screams to Shana's bedroom. She was still lying down, but she was screaming the most awful noise he had ever heard before. He rushed over there, trying to wake her up and rouse her from her obvious nightmare. She fought against him, still asleep, until he was finally able to wake her.
She didn't say anything, just sobbed loudly as he held her, rocking her slightly and stroking her hair. It seemed like forever that they stayed like that until she finally quieted. She didn't attempt to apologize for the outburst; she felt like he understood why it had happened. "Thank you," was the only thing she was able to say. Maybe she wasn't ready to be on her own for the anniversary yet. It depressed her that it might never be something she could handle alone.
"Are you ok now?" His voice was concerned and quiet.
"I think so. Hopefully the neighbors won't have called the cops," she sighed, relaxing into his arms.
"Nightmare I take it? Do you want to talk about it?" He was gentle, not overly nosy.
"It's just...My mind insists on replaying that day over and over sometimes. I couldn't handle it then and I can't handle it now," now she just sounded depressed. Conrad sat more comfortably on her bed and continued to hold her, not forcing her to go on if she wasn't ready or able to. "It's not like I hadn't ever been captured before. I had always managed to escape or someone had come to my rescue..."
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Scarlett roared around a curve, just barely keeping all wheels on the ground. She was chasing Major Bludd after a failed Cobra raid on a munitions depot. She spotted him ahead and felt comfortable in chasing him. She didn't have any backup, but he appeared to be alone too, so it was a pretty even score. Plus, there was no time for anyone to catch up; she couldn't hit a pause button to make Bludd stop fleeing.
She was gaining and she pushed the vehicle to its limits trying to close the distance. She maneuvered her crossbow to try and blow out a tire. She swore as she missed, and then again as something sailed and landed in the back seat of the jeep. Bastard had thrown a grenade back at her and had a lucky shot. The options for a situation like this were: try and get the grenade and throw it out, stop the car and start running or ditch the vehicle in a roll and hope that puts enough distance between her and the mess. All options involved losing the race she was in to catch Bludd, but the last option was the clear winner as choices go; broken bones healed a hell of a lot better than burns and shrapnel. Decision made, she jumped from the car, trying to roll. The grenade exploded while she was in the air and the push of air threw her balance off and next thing she knew, she was laying on the ground, burning car parts surrounding her. Her leg hurt like hell and she wasn't sure if she had blacked out when she hit her head. She did know that it hurt to move and she was very dizzy. She knew too that with the jeep exploding, a rescue team would be out soon.
Soon, too soon in hindsight, she heard footsteps crunching towards her. She moved carefully to greet her rescuer, but her words died in her throat. A guttural laugh came from Major Bludd and as he inelegantly heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she lost consciousness again.
She regained consciousness, finding herself laying in a very uncomfortable position in pitch darkness. "Doc?" she called out groggily, holding onto the hope that she had been rescued. As she tried to move, she realized with panic that her arms and legs were restrained. She tried to adjust to the darkness to determine where she was, dreading the confirmation that went along with the pain that came with her position.
Suddenly the lights above her flared to life, blinding her again just as she was beginning to adjust to the darkness. She fought down the rising panic at being restrained, trying to make a plan; the throbbing in her head was not helping matters, nor was the fact that she had her back on some sort of thin table and her hands and feet bound underneath, keeping her arched backwards, head below her heart. She figured she had a concussion, but it couldn't be too serious, she was staying conscious now.
A voice cut through the air, causing her to try and crane her neck to face her captor, "I see you are awake. Much more fun." His face finally loomed over hers, too close for comfort, making her want to shy away but she was held fast.
"Get away from me you one eyed freak!" she spat with vehemence.
"Tsk tsk. Not playing very nice," he leaned down in conspiratorial whisper, "That's ok. I'm not going to play nice either. Tell me Scarlett, what are the security codes for Joe Headquarters?"
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434," she spoke, keeping her voice even and strong.
A chilling chuckle emanated from him as he moved to her side, "Oh, you don't need to bother with that boring Geneva Convention shit, I know I'm not. Those rules take all the fun out of interrogation."
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434," she continued, keeping on the strong front. She gasped in pain, looking down at her arm that now bore a thin bloody line.
"Perhaps we just need to work up to that question," he patted her head, "I understand. What is your real name?"
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434."
Suddenly there was a piece of dark plastic over her face. She couldn't see, she tried to take a breath in and only could hear the crackle of the plastic, the maniac's laughter and the sound of her thrashing against her restraints, trying desperately to get air. Her lungs burned and she gasped uselessly, panic rising. Her arms and legs got heavy and harder to move, and she didn't seem to need to breathe anymore. She shuddered and the black of the plastic was replaced by the grey of her mind, all the noises from before fading quickly into muted silence. She lost consciousness.
Someone was hitting her, slapping her roughly and she realized she could breathe again. She drew in air in big gulping gasps. She was shaking uncontrollably in the restraints. Her vision swam into focus again and she realized that this was not the kind of wakeup call she wanted.
"Wasn't that fun? Next time you don't tell me what I want to hear, I won't let you wake up. Real name?"
She thought about whether to just tell him, when the plastic was back. She couldn't help but try and fight against the suffocation, hurting herself even more as she fought against the restraints. She felt ashes fall onto her skin through the remains of her clothing and as she began to again lose consciousness, the feathery touch of the burned paper seeming heightened as the rest of her senses faded. It was maddening, knowing that just a flimsy piece of plastic was killing her, but she could do nothing to prevent it. Again the world faded away and it all became much easier for her.
A sharp kick to her legs brought her to consciousness and she couldn't help but sob as her body shook again, her body reacting violently to the withdrawal of oxygen. Her wrists and ankles were bleeding from the struggle she had mounted and the bastard just kept laughing at her. "Real name?"
"Oh God, please just stop!"
"Wrong answer." The plastic was back and the fighting against the darkness was much slower. By this time, she had begun to decide that possibly death was the best possible outcome. Darkness.
Scarlett screamed in pain as she shook, waking up again from the edge of death. This time he had used her stomach as an ashtray for his cigar. She couldn't believe this was happening and she was delirious from all the pain. She vaguely heard him say something and heard the rustle of plastic and she screamed out in panic, "Wait! I'll -" her words were again cut off by the plastic that she was convinced would be her shroud and it wasn't long before the darkness enveloped her, now instead of fighting the darkness off, she fought the return from the darkness.
This time her wake up call was a bucket of cold salt water dumped on her, bringing pain to her abraised body and a desire to throw up from her accidental swallowing of the liquid and the awful stuff up her nose. A seductive whisper in her ear, "Just tell me your name and this will stop."
Her voiced rattled while her body convulsed, "Shana! Shana O'Hara!!" She felt him caress her face gently and she shuddered, seeing him look so calm was terrifying.
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" he giggled, moving out of her vision. "Now we're going to play a game. I'm going to ask the questions, and you will answer them. If I'm not pleased by the answer, you tell me a part of your body that I should demonstrate my displeasure on. If you don't choose quickly, I'll choose a few of my favorites. Understand?"
She moaned, which he accepted as acknowledgement. His voice was sharp as he fired out questions, "What are the security codes for the Joe base?"
She mumbled out a code, "Romeo Tango Lima Lima Uniform 37254 Charlie Zulu."
He nodded looking apologetic, "But how can I be sure that's the real code? I can't. Name something!" Scarlett searched her mind for a part of her body that could withstand more abuse when searing, burning pain came to her right hip then her left shoulder, then right breast. He was using a small metal rod that was practically glowing with heat.
"I swear! I swear it is current, but they'll change it as soon as they know I am captured! I can't help it!"
He cooed to her softly, "I am a very reasonable man," he ran his hand down her face, over her breasts, resting at her partially exposed stomach. His fingers wandered over to the wound that had been made on her hip by the rod, digging into it and playing in the blood, painting it on her body. She couldn't help it, she screamed in pain as he did that. She hated seeing the pleased expression on his face as he got to her, but she couldn't stop herself.
He kissed her tenderly, he brought the small metal bar that he was using up to her ear and she screamed again as pain exploded in her already sore head.
She didn't know how long it went on honestly, time ceased to have any meaning. She didn't care anymore after a while, she told him anything he asked for. She didn't even try to stop herself. She told him about her dog, her friends, her shoe size; anything he asked for. She spent most of her coherent thoughts trying to figure out how to kill herself. Obviously no one would be coming for her, and all she had to look forward to was continuing in this room until Bludd killed her.
After she had retched forth everything she knew, she began simply to beg him to end it. She no longer cared whether it was via release or death; she just wanted it to stop. He gave her another of his serene smiles, "I may be a one eyed freak to you, but after today, I'll always be one up on you, in a sense," he laughed uproariously at his own joke, "Do you know the sound an eyeball makes when a hot poker is pressed to it?" He leaned in close to her good ear, "I do. That's how I lost mine. It will join us and you'll never forget this day or that sound."
That was when she began screaming, over and over again as she had her lid forced open and a small heated rod was pressed against her right eye. The sound of a slight sizzle and then a sickening pop as she continued to scream and one side of her vision went dark. She would have been throwing up but for the lack of stomach contents. Before she could even fully grasp what had happened to her right eye, her left lid was forced open and given the same treatment. The sound and smell was truly something she would never forget, no matter how much she would want to.
She couldn't stop screaming. The pain was like a forest fire out of control in her head; making every other wound she had received that much worse. Dimly in the background she heard speaking on the intercom. Bludd patted her on the head like one would pat a dog and spoke into her ear. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He cackled maniacally as he left the room.
She forced herself to get beyond the pain raging through her, realizing that if she wanted to escape or even just to kill herself, now would be her only chance. She fought against her restraints, trying to shimmy herself so she would fall off the table.
She rolled hard onto the floor, hands still shackled to her feet. She couldn't see anything and couldn't remember where anything was in the room. Panic was rising again, but she felt the ground underneath her change to a different texture as she wriggled on the floor. There was a grate and she decided to take the chance that it led somewhere and it wasn't obvious where she was. For the first time since the ordeal started, she felt a flicker of hope.
Moving the grate was a struggle and she almost gave up, crying in desperation. She heard sounds outside the room she was in, and she felt a wave of relief wash through her as the grate gave way and she tumbled into foul smelling water. She resisted the temptation to just lie down and rest her overworked muscles but urged herself on, afraid of Bludd finding her too easily. She heaved at the stench where she was; she must be in the sewer system. She continued to wriggle and roll through the three inch deep water, being encouraged by the fact that every moment she was free was another moment she had control over her own life.
Time in the tunnels was much like it was on Bludd's table; it had no meaning. She crawled, she rested, she was forced to drink the filthy water because she was so thirsty. She was totally blinded and utterly lost. She collapsed finally, not being able to take it any more, and passing into unconsciousness.
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Conrad couldn't speak. He would never forget finding her abused body in the tunnel, the blood running from so many wounds and the absolute horror that was her face. More than anything, the broken look that she had would stay with him always. He had scooped her into his arms and taken her out of that hellhole, but she had never told him before tonight what really happened. He just held her gently, letting her cry. He wanted to say something that would make it better, but he knew he couldn't.
Shana was sobbing spastically in his arms, but for her part, she actually felt marginally better having finally confessed the whole ordeal to someone. She felt as safe in his arms now as she did that night when he carried her to safety. She fell asleep before she truly stopped crying, and Conrad just stayed, holding her, trying to keep the dreams away for the rest of the night.
I'll say it again loudly:
DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ ABOUT GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND/OR TORTURE.
Other general disclaimers apply, this is my own sick and twisted imagination, and many thanks to my husband and his time as an Army interrogator for his help on helping to make this as realistic as I could. I do not own GI Joe, nor do I claim to, nor do I make money from this. Please don't sue.
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"Without a thought without a voice without a soul, don't let me die here, there must be something more; bring me to life" Evanescence, "Bring Me to Life"
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Conrad was settled fairly comfortably on Shana's living room couch. He was sleeping off the effects of the alcohol they consumed earlier when he heard an ear splitting scream. He leapt up from the couch, following the sound of the screams to Shana's bedroom. She was still lying down, but she was screaming the most awful noise he had ever heard before. He rushed over there, trying to wake her up and rouse her from her obvious nightmare. She fought against him, still asleep, until he was finally able to wake her.
She didn't say anything, just sobbed loudly as he held her, rocking her slightly and stroking her hair. It seemed like forever that they stayed like that until she finally quieted. She didn't attempt to apologize for the outburst; she felt like he understood why it had happened. "Thank you," was the only thing she was able to say. Maybe she wasn't ready to be on her own for the anniversary yet. It depressed her that it might never be something she could handle alone.
"Are you ok now?" His voice was concerned and quiet.
"I think so. Hopefully the neighbors won't have called the cops," she sighed, relaxing into his arms.
"Nightmare I take it? Do you want to talk about it?" He was gentle, not overly nosy.
"It's just...My mind insists on replaying that day over and over sometimes. I couldn't handle it then and I can't handle it now," now she just sounded depressed. Conrad sat more comfortably on her bed and continued to hold her, not forcing her to go on if she wasn't ready or able to. "It's not like I hadn't ever been captured before. I had always managed to escape or someone had come to my rescue..."
::::::::::::::::::::
Scarlett roared around a curve, just barely keeping all wheels on the ground. She was chasing Major Bludd after a failed Cobra raid on a munitions depot. She spotted him ahead and felt comfortable in chasing him. She didn't have any backup, but he appeared to be alone too, so it was a pretty even score. Plus, there was no time for anyone to catch up; she couldn't hit a pause button to make Bludd stop fleeing.
She was gaining and she pushed the vehicle to its limits trying to close the distance. She maneuvered her crossbow to try and blow out a tire. She swore as she missed, and then again as something sailed and landed in the back seat of the jeep. Bastard had thrown a grenade back at her and had a lucky shot. The options for a situation like this were: try and get the grenade and throw it out, stop the car and start running or ditch the vehicle in a roll and hope that puts enough distance between her and the mess. All options involved losing the race she was in to catch Bludd, but the last option was the clear winner as choices go; broken bones healed a hell of a lot better than burns and shrapnel. Decision made, she jumped from the car, trying to roll. The grenade exploded while she was in the air and the push of air threw her balance off and next thing she knew, she was laying on the ground, burning car parts surrounding her. Her leg hurt like hell and she wasn't sure if she had blacked out when she hit her head. She did know that it hurt to move and she was very dizzy. She knew too that with the jeep exploding, a rescue team would be out soon.
Soon, too soon in hindsight, she heard footsteps crunching towards her. She moved carefully to greet her rescuer, but her words died in her throat. A guttural laugh came from Major Bludd and as he inelegantly heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she lost consciousness again.
She regained consciousness, finding herself laying in a very uncomfortable position in pitch darkness. "Doc?" she called out groggily, holding onto the hope that she had been rescued. As she tried to move, she realized with panic that her arms and legs were restrained. She tried to adjust to the darkness to determine where she was, dreading the confirmation that went along with the pain that came with her position.
Suddenly the lights above her flared to life, blinding her again just as she was beginning to adjust to the darkness. She fought down the rising panic at being restrained, trying to make a plan; the throbbing in her head was not helping matters, nor was the fact that she had her back on some sort of thin table and her hands and feet bound underneath, keeping her arched backwards, head below her heart. She figured she had a concussion, but it couldn't be too serious, she was staying conscious now.
A voice cut through the air, causing her to try and crane her neck to face her captor, "I see you are awake. Much more fun." His face finally loomed over hers, too close for comfort, making her want to shy away but she was held fast.
"Get away from me you one eyed freak!" she spat with vehemence.
"Tsk tsk. Not playing very nice," he leaned down in conspiratorial whisper, "That's ok. I'm not going to play nice either. Tell me Scarlett, what are the security codes for Joe Headquarters?"
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434," she spoke, keeping her voice even and strong.
A chilling chuckle emanated from him as he moved to her side, "Oh, you don't need to bother with that boring Geneva Convention shit, I know I'm not. Those rules take all the fun out of interrogation."
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434," she continued, keeping on the strong front. She gasped in pain, looking down at her arm that now bore a thin bloody line.
"Perhaps we just need to work up to that question," he patted her head, "I understand. What is your real name?"
"Sergeant, Scarlett, RA242967434."
Suddenly there was a piece of dark plastic over her face. She couldn't see, she tried to take a breath in and only could hear the crackle of the plastic, the maniac's laughter and the sound of her thrashing against her restraints, trying desperately to get air. Her lungs burned and she gasped uselessly, panic rising. Her arms and legs got heavy and harder to move, and she didn't seem to need to breathe anymore. She shuddered and the black of the plastic was replaced by the grey of her mind, all the noises from before fading quickly into muted silence. She lost consciousness.
Someone was hitting her, slapping her roughly and she realized she could breathe again. She drew in air in big gulping gasps. She was shaking uncontrollably in the restraints. Her vision swam into focus again and she realized that this was not the kind of wakeup call she wanted.
"Wasn't that fun? Next time you don't tell me what I want to hear, I won't let you wake up. Real name?"
She thought about whether to just tell him, when the plastic was back. She couldn't help but try and fight against the suffocation, hurting herself even more as she fought against the restraints. She felt ashes fall onto her skin through the remains of her clothing and as she began to again lose consciousness, the feathery touch of the burned paper seeming heightened as the rest of her senses faded. It was maddening, knowing that just a flimsy piece of plastic was killing her, but she could do nothing to prevent it. Again the world faded away and it all became much easier for her.
A sharp kick to her legs brought her to consciousness and she couldn't help but sob as her body shook again, her body reacting violently to the withdrawal of oxygen. Her wrists and ankles were bleeding from the struggle she had mounted and the bastard just kept laughing at her. "Real name?"
"Oh God, please just stop!"
"Wrong answer." The plastic was back and the fighting against the darkness was much slower. By this time, she had begun to decide that possibly death was the best possible outcome. Darkness.
Scarlett screamed in pain as she shook, waking up again from the edge of death. This time he had used her stomach as an ashtray for his cigar. She couldn't believe this was happening and she was delirious from all the pain. She vaguely heard him say something and heard the rustle of plastic and she screamed out in panic, "Wait! I'll -" her words were again cut off by the plastic that she was convinced would be her shroud and it wasn't long before the darkness enveloped her, now instead of fighting the darkness off, she fought the return from the darkness.
This time her wake up call was a bucket of cold salt water dumped on her, bringing pain to her abraised body and a desire to throw up from her accidental swallowing of the liquid and the awful stuff up her nose. A seductive whisper in her ear, "Just tell me your name and this will stop."
Her voiced rattled while her body convulsed, "Shana! Shana O'Hara!!" She felt him caress her face gently and she shuddered, seeing him look so calm was terrifying.
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" he giggled, moving out of her vision. "Now we're going to play a game. I'm going to ask the questions, and you will answer them. If I'm not pleased by the answer, you tell me a part of your body that I should demonstrate my displeasure on. If you don't choose quickly, I'll choose a few of my favorites. Understand?"
She moaned, which he accepted as acknowledgement. His voice was sharp as he fired out questions, "What are the security codes for the Joe base?"
She mumbled out a code, "Romeo Tango Lima Lima Uniform 37254 Charlie Zulu."
He nodded looking apologetic, "But how can I be sure that's the real code? I can't. Name something!" Scarlett searched her mind for a part of her body that could withstand more abuse when searing, burning pain came to her right hip then her left shoulder, then right breast. He was using a small metal rod that was practically glowing with heat.
"I swear! I swear it is current, but they'll change it as soon as they know I am captured! I can't help it!"
He cooed to her softly, "I am a very reasonable man," he ran his hand down her face, over her breasts, resting at her partially exposed stomach. His fingers wandered over to the wound that had been made on her hip by the rod, digging into it and playing in the blood, painting it on her body. She couldn't help it, she screamed in pain as he did that. She hated seeing the pleased expression on his face as he got to her, but she couldn't stop herself.
He kissed her tenderly, he brought the small metal bar that he was using up to her ear and she screamed again as pain exploded in her already sore head.
She didn't know how long it went on honestly, time ceased to have any meaning. She didn't care anymore after a while, she told him anything he asked for. She didn't even try to stop herself. She told him about her dog, her friends, her shoe size; anything he asked for. She spent most of her coherent thoughts trying to figure out how to kill herself. Obviously no one would be coming for her, and all she had to look forward to was continuing in this room until Bludd killed her.
After she had retched forth everything she knew, she began simply to beg him to end it. She no longer cared whether it was via release or death; she just wanted it to stop. He gave her another of his serene smiles, "I may be a one eyed freak to you, but after today, I'll always be one up on you, in a sense," he laughed uproariously at his own joke, "Do you know the sound an eyeball makes when a hot poker is pressed to it?" He leaned in close to her good ear, "I do. That's how I lost mine. It will join us and you'll never forget this day or that sound."
That was when she began screaming, over and over again as she had her lid forced open and a small heated rod was pressed against her right eye. The sound of a slight sizzle and then a sickening pop as she continued to scream and one side of her vision went dark. She would have been throwing up but for the lack of stomach contents. Before she could even fully grasp what had happened to her right eye, her left lid was forced open and given the same treatment. The sound and smell was truly something she would never forget, no matter how much she would want to.
She couldn't stop screaming. The pain was like a forest fire out of control in her head; making every other wound she had received that much worse. Dimly in the background she heard speaking on the intercom. Bludd patted her on the head like one would pat a dog and spoke into her ear. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He cackled maniacally as he left the room.
She forced herself to get beyond the pain raging through her, realizing that if she wanted to escape or even just to kill herself, now would be her only chance. She fought against her restraints, trying to shimmy herself so she would fall off the table.
She rolled hard onto the floor, hands still shackled to her feet. She couldn't see anything and couldn't remember where anything was in the room. Panic was rising again, but she felt the ground underneath her change to a different texture as she wriggled on the floor. There was a grate and she decided to take the chance that it led somewhere and it wasn't obvious where she was. For the first time since the ordeal started, she felt a flicker of hope.
Moving the grate was a struggle and she almost gave up, crying in desperation. She heard sounds outside the room she was in, and she felt a wave of relief wash through her as the grate gave way and she tumbled into foul smelling water. She resisted the temptation to just lie down and rest her overworked muscles but urged herself on, afraid of Bludd finding her too easily. She heaved at the stench where she was; she must be in the sewer system. She continued to wriggle and roll through the three inch deep water, being encouraged by the fact that every moment she was free was another moment she had control over her own life.
Time in the tunnels was much like it was on Bludd's table; it had no meaning. She crawled, she rested, she was forced to drink the filthy water because she was so thirsty. She was totally blinded and utterly lost. She collapsed finally, not being able to take it any more, and passing into unconsciousness.
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Conrad couldn't speak. He would never forget finding her abused body in the tunnel, the blood running from so many wounds and the absolute horror that was her face. More than anything, the broken look that she had would stay with him always. He had scooped her into his arms and taken her out of that hellhole, but she had never told him before tonight what really happened. He just held her gently, letting her cry. He wanted to say something that would make it better, but he knew he couldn't.
Shana was sobbing spastically in his arms, but for her part, she actually felt marginally better having finally confessed the whole ordeal to someone. She felt as safe in his arms now as she did that night when he carried her to safety. She fell asleep before she truly stopped crying, and Conrad just stayed, holding her, trying to keep the dreams away for the rest of the night.