A/N: I was planning to wait another day or so to post this chapter but Chaps review convinced me to post it sooner. Also even though some of you may be wondering how Rodney was captured and where the others are at, I never actually intened to write that part of the story I want to keep this going from John's perspective so you'll just have to use your imaginations to answer those questions.

This is the chapter where the VIOLENCE and TORTURE warnings really come into play.

John couldn't help the scream that escaped as Keeshaw dragged a sharp knife through a healing cut, cutting open the stitches and making the wound deeper. Blood trickled down John's arm in thick, crimson rivulets, dripping from his fingertips to splash on the floor.

Rodney's desperate yells filling the air, ordering them, begging them, to stop, caused John to force his eyes open and look at his friend. The scientist was chained to the wall opposite John, so far, untouched. Rodney's torture was purely mental at this stage, he was just being forced to watch as they hurt John. Their roles would be reversed later, and John would be the one watching. But he knew, as did the guards, that sometimes watching, could be just as painful as the actual experience.

"You really should have fought, fool." Keeeshaw leaned close to whisper into John's ear. The smoke from the cigarette like thing the guard was smoking made John's eyes sting. When Keeshaw dragged it lightly across his abdomen John tried desperately not to scream. "Will you fight now 'Lantean? Say yes and this will end."

"Fuck Off!" John spit in Keeshaw's face. Keeshaw growled, not pleased with John's answer, and shoved the cigarette into his belly button. John couldn't stop the scream that time, it tore out of his throat to fill the air with its pain-filled despair.

One of the other guards walked over, John desperately tried to remember his name. He had a mental list of all the guards, what their personalities were like, and how they usually acted in hopes he could maybe one day use that knowledge to convince one of them to help him. But right now, John's mind had cleared of all thought except the pain, preventing him from 'finding' the list.

"I think the 'Lantean's still got a bit too much spirit," The guard spoke, smiling in what would almost be considered a pleasant way had they been in any other situation. "I think it's time we play a diferent game."

A freezing wave of emotion paralized John with fear, as he stared at the guards in desperation. New game? What new game? What harm would it cause? Would he be able to endure it, or would he finally break? Would he agree to fight Rodney?

John wasn't able to see the guards that approached from behind, but he could hear them. He counted the footsteps and knew that there were three of them. His fear escalated as he jerked against the chains holding him down, hoping in vain that some miracle would happen that would allow him to break free.

Two pairs of gloved hands gripped John's body, one on each side, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist. As they held him tightly, immobilising him, John felt a tear trickle down his cheek against his will. John took a deep breath and let it out, repeating the process again and again, trying desperately to calm down, and brace himself for whatever was coming. It didn't work.

White hot and mind numbing pain exploded through out John's body when something pressed against the small of his back. John screamed, a ragged, wordless scream of limitless pain, his muscles tensed as he fought against his captors. Distantly, he heard Rodney screaming out to him, and to the guards, but it was a vague, unimportant knowledge.

The pressure on John's back vanished, but the pain remained, huge searing bolts of pain that shot through his body until it seemed that the pain had lasted forever and would continue for eternity. Tears streamed down John's face mixing into the pools of blood on the floor, but he didn't care. His throat burned from the endless screaming, but the stinging pain went unnoticed.

What felt like an eternity later John managed to gather enough of his wits to realise that he was close to hyperventilating and passing out. John focused on his breathing, concentrated on keeping it slow and steady. John stared at the pools of blood at his feet, his blood, and used the sight to anchor himself. The pain was a deep, deep ache in his back, but it was manageable now.

"What the… What the fuck was...that?" John panted, his voice hoarse and rough from screaming.

Keeshaw laughed and moved into John's line of sight, holding up something that looked suspiciously like a branding iron. Then he twisted it slightly, and John realised with a wave of revulsion that he was basically right and that he now had the word animal burned into his flesh - the type of writing the guards and fight bosses used vaguly reminded John of Chinese writing and John had been able to pick up what some words were. Bile rose up in his throat, but John choked it down, refusing to give in, to let them win. He wouldn't do that, he was stronger than that, he had to be.

An endless amount of excruciating agony followed as more words were burned into John's flesh. The guards always told him what names they were burning into him, but he could only remember a few: worthless, savage, murder. John screamed and cursed and screamed some more, but not once did he give in, he never agreed to fight Rodney. And in that respect he'd won, he'd beaten them.

The little comfort that knowledge offered lasted only seconds before the pain stripped it away. Twice John passed out, but each time he was woken up rudely with ice cold water, salt on his wounds, and vicious beatings. They wanted him to experience every painful sensation they gave him, and they weren't going to let John escape even a second of it.

Rodney screamed, thrashing with all his strength, but to no avail. The guards held him down as their grinning friend slammed the metal pole against Rodney again and again, tearing and briusing his skin without caring. Sweat beaded both their skin; the guard from exertion, Rodney from terror and despair.

John watched it all with a mixture of sorrow and fury, not able to drag his eyes away from the pitying and terrifying sight of his best friend being beat. John's body still ached and burned with pain, which prevented him from struggling against his chains, trying to help Rodney.

"Stop it!" Rodney screamed, his desperate voice echoing in the small room. "I'll fight! God damn it I'll fucking fight! Just fucking stop it!"

John's heart plummeted. Something inside him, something that had somehow survived not only his torture, but the sight of his friend's, shattered at the knowledge that now he would either have to kill his best friend or be killed by him.

A tear rolled down John's cheek as he bowed his head, his breath hitching in his throat. John wanted to cry, wanted to sob and scream and moan and whimper and not have to fight his friend. But in his heart, he knew that he had no choice, so John fought back the tears, fought back the pain, fought back the anger that he'd gone through all that pain for nothing, and raised his head again.

The guards moved away from Rodney, leaving him to tremble on the floor. Blood was splattered all over him from multiple cuts, and his skin was starting to darken in several places, ugly bruises already starting to form. His fingernails were broken and bloody from where he'd clawed at the chains that held him, trying desperately to escape the pain.

Rodney bore very little resemblance to the confident, arogant, cocky, pain in the ass scientist John knew and John hated the guards so fiercely in that moment, hot rage burned through his body. He hated them for turning his friend into someone so broken and defeated. It was then that John swore on his pride, on his honour, on his very soul, that he would kill them, kill every last one of these guards or he would die trying.