Dearka's head swum and made the entire world seem to lurch drunkenly from side to side. It was like he was competely smashed, hangover and everything. Not that he would know anything about totally tying one on... as far as Miriallia had yet found out. Speaking of... where was Miriallia? His head was so fuzzy he couldn't concentrate. He forced himself to try and focus rather than slip back into the comforting darkness. He couldn't remember what yet, but something was plucking urgently at the back of his mind, telling him that he really needed to be doing something. Something was wrong... terribly wrong. He just couldn't figure out what. Screw it. Dearka thought with weary anger... he'd shelve the alarm for the moment... right now he wanted to figure out where the heck he was... he didn't remember going out drinking... now that Mir was around he generally had much better things to do with his nights.
Of course I still haven't yet rounded that fabled home plate yet... no... focus, Dearka. Focus on what's around you. You can get angsty about your love life later. God damn, why am I so out of it? Why does my head feel like the Grand Buster's been playing soccer with it? And what the HELL is wrong with this lumpy whatever-the-hell it is I'm lying on? I've lain on softer rocks. Wait-a-minute... why is it so dark... and gloomy... and what the FUCK is that stench? Dearka sat up with a start... his head was getting clearer with every breath he sucked past his protesting nostrils. It smelled like something had died in here and been left to rot in a puddle of its own waste. That raised another good question. Where is here? C'mon man... reconstruct... figure out where you've gotten yourself this time... MAN, I wonder what I was drinking... I haven't felt this bad in... ever. Dearka cracked his eyes slightly wider... what light there was caused his eyes to water but the sensation rapidly faded... though the dull ache behind his forehead was still going full blast. He looked around. His surroundings did not make sense. The room he was in was no more than eight feet on a side and a maybe a hair more than six feet tall, maybe less. There was a single recessed light bulb that was so dim that Dearka could not make out any color at all in the room... just shades of shadow and darkness. There were no windows and only one door, in the wall he was facing, situated midway between the cot like contraption he was on and a similar thing on the other side of the... cell, for lack of a better word.
This doesn't look like a drunk tank... even smells worse. And even if it is a drunk tank... where's the other drunks? Speaking of... where the hell is everyone? Last thing I remember is the... wedd...ing. Light dawned in Dearka's mind, recollection coming back in a rush. Going back to Hawaii to pick up his and Mir's admittedly few belongings from Alkire's bunker. The interrupted feast... the invitations to Sai Argyle's wedding. Showing up early to the wedding, uncomfortable in his rented tux but mind full of odd thoughts about how great it would be to walk into a chapel with Mir under other circumstances. The confrontation with Sai... the arrival of his soon to be wife, Vanai Zunnichi and her father, Cervantes Zunnichi... the acknowledged master of Blue Cosmos. Sai striking Kira and knocking him down, Sai leaving in a fury... the door to the chapel shutting and leaving them all trapped in there with Cervantes and his security director Asmodeus Sark and more black uniformed and well armed soldiers than Dearka had been able to count.
Kira being tasered... Lacus struck on the head... Ysak getting tossed... the soldiers closing in with chloroform soaked cloths... choking sounds from somewhere as his vision greyed out... a voice begging for mercy... and then total darkness. It wasn't a pleasant realization to wake up to. They had been captured by Blue Cosmos. He... an elite ZAFT pilot... a second generation Coordinator with parents on the PLANT supreme council, had been captured by Blue Cosmos and was being held by them... somewhere. Admittedly his parents were distant towards him, but they were still his parents... they'd pay a ransom in money or blood to get him back alive and whole. Assuming Blue Cosmos ever even let on that they had him... Dearka dimly remembered Cervantes chortling about fates worse than death and a scientist requiring test subjects. He shivered... thinking such thoughts wasn't helping, his imagination would run away with him.
His head clear, Dearka looked around what he was quite sure was his cell. It hadn't improved since last he checked... it was still pretty much a worn and filthy metal box, eight feet on a side and roughly six feet tall. The recessed light fixture was covered by a sturdy wire mesh coated thickly with dust and grime. The single door was the only clean thing in the room, sturdy and solid looking steel with large bolts and rivets and a single slot for meals to be passed in through. There was no interior handle or key hole. His eyes started watering again... this time not from the after effects of the drug, which were rapidly clearing from his head... no, it was because his senses were returning to their accustomed sharpness that his eyes were watering... his nose was protesting very angrily at being forced to process the information it was receiving. He'd thought the smell was bad when he'd been half conscious... now that he was awake it was nigh unbearable. It far outclassed the cauldron of filth that had concealed the mine back at the estate in Switzerland... that had merely been disgusting... this was obscene.
He looked around and finally figured out where it was coming from. "Holy shit!" he flinched backwards and collided painfully with the wall behind him. He clapped a hand to his mouth and nose to help cap his gag reflex and used his other to shield his eyes to block out the horrid sight. The cell was double occupancy... though his roommate didn't look to be in the best of shape. Even from the brief glance he'd had it was easy to tell that the huddled shape in the other cot was a corpse, grey puckered skin drawn tight along bones, softer organs dried up and shriveled, blood a dusty sludge that was beginning to flake away. The body looked to be that of a ten year old child... boy or girl he hadn't been able to discern. Cause of death was likely the bent fork made from cheap aluminum protruding handle first from the jugular region of the throat... a self inflicted wound, judging from the dessicated hand still holding tightly to it.
"That's an excellent sign... my cellmate is a suicide victim." Dearka muttered to himself, trying to lighten his own mood. The sarcasm was a bit too dark for his current non-depressed tastes, but it was all he could muster. The room seemed to kill humor right from conception. "Doesn't say much for the place, if the guards let the... kid... kill themself. A right bunch of bastards... they didn't even bury the kid... they just left the corpse to rot. What sort of BASTARDS do that?" Dearka suddenly shouted, angry tears beading at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't known the kid who was lying dead, bled out in the other bunk... but no ten year old child should be placed in a situation where the best alternative was suicide... and no child's corpse should just be left to rot. He couldn't believe even Blue Cosmos could be that callous... even when they employed people like Vladimir they didn't desecrate the corpses of the dead. It did not speak well of the current situation that such a thing was allowed to happen here. The slot in the door shot open with a dry squeal, bright light streaming in briefly before being blocked by a formless shape.
"Shut the hell up, space monster. What are you crying about?" a harsh male voice said from outside. There was a loud bang of metal on metal and the door shivered slightly as the guard outside slammed something into the door.
"There's a goddamned corpse in here... what the hell? Don't you people have any sanitation standards? I knew you Blue Cosmos freaks were a bunch of shit-slicked slime suckers, but I at least thought you decent enough to bury children." Dearka snapped back, seeing absolutely no reason to be civil.
"Afraid of a body? Don't worry, Coordinator... that failed specimen can't hurt you." the guard spat. "And don't worry about the living conditions... you won't have to sustain yourself for long." the guard chuckled and moved away from the slot before something was shoved through. It looked a bit like a box lunch, though it hit the floor with a decidedly squishy sound. "Meal call... chef's specialty... minced mush. Fine fare for a monster."
Dearka stood... noting in the light that he was still dressed in his tux which was only a little rumpled... he hadn't been unconscious for long... hours at most, not days. And he wasn't that hungry... even before he saw the greyish slop in the cardboard box. That was good... that meant it hadn't been long since he'd been drugged. That meant he hadn't been here long... which meant that the others probably hadn't been here long either, if the others had been sent to the same place. That seemed likely...why send them all to different places... that'd be too troublesome. Dearka had the feeling that the more time he spent in the cell the worse it would be for him so having woken up soon was a good thing... a slim hope maybe but all he currently had. He nudged the box of what might have been gruel with his wingtip dress shoe. "How am I supposed to eat this crap?"
"You're equipped like a normal human is... I'm sure your superior mind can figure something out. Though if I hear right, not all your equipment works like a real humans... what's it like to shoot blanks, eh?" the guard chuckled again and started to slide the meal slot closed again. He paused halfway closed. "Ah... if using your hands is repellant I suppose you can use a utensil... there should be one in there somewhere... the last occupant declined to return it after his last meal. Bon Apetite." the slot slammed fully shut but Dearka could still faintly hear the chuckles of the guard as the man moved away from the cell door. He crouched and picked at the gruel with his fingers... it was always a good idea to eat to keep up strength, especially in tough situations, so he ate... but he promised himself that once he figured a way out of this bind he was going to find the guard and give him a very special thank you. Very special. Dearka settled in for a wait. It turned out he didn't have to wait long.
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Ysak was sitting on his "bunk", which he had pulled into the middle of the cell and set crosswise so he could get a better view of the slot in the door while still remaining off the floor and out of the puddles of biological waste that covered it to a depth of at least an inch. His shoes had been ruined in the process but it was a small price to pay... he'd never liked dress shoes and these weren't even his anyway... they belonged to some rental agency. The shoes currently hung off the other side of the bunk, within easy reach but off the floor... he didn't want to venture onto the cell floor without protection if he could at all help it, but wearing piss and shit soaked shoes was hardly appetizing either. He was sure the stench in the room was beyond belief... if he could actually catch more than a wiff of it past the scraps of shirt he had plugged his nose with. He glanced around the cell as he waited for something to happen. It was eight feet square and six feet tall, with a single mesh protected light bulb that cast just enough light for Ysak to be glad it wasn't brighter... he didn't need any sort of closer look at the floor.
He was the only person in the cell, though he was fairly certain it was meant for more than one person... the initial bunk placement had suggested room for another occupant, though there was currently no one but him there. He supposed that was sort of a good thing... he certainly wasn't feeling very chummy right now and besides... what help would anyone who had spent much time at all in the cell be? Ysak was fairly sure he'd be a wreck if he was forced to live in this place for more than a few days... living conditions were far from optimal. On the flip side of that coin, it would be nice if the enemy had been stupid enough to put him and one of his friends together... Ysak would even have held off on beating Kira into the ground for getting them this screwed... at least long enough for them to escape to safety, after which there would be a reckoning. But, unfortunately, this facility... wherever it was... seemed to have been staffed by the cream of the Blue Cosmos crop... common sense still ruled here and dangerous prisoners, as Ysak certainly considered himself and his friends to be, were kept strictly seperated.
He'd waited for perhaps an hour since he first regained conciousness when he heard faint footsteps out in the hall. It was amazing how being mostly denied two senses... sight and smell... had sharpened his hearing. The footsteps weren't loud marching or anything... just a group of sounds, like that made by a unit of soldiers on the move or friends out for a walk together. There were a lot of them though... at least ten, maybe more. The footsteps stopped outside his cell. Ysak put on his shoes and got ready to move... if an opportunity to escape came it would be right now. He tensed, preparing to spring... but was still caught off guard. He had forgotten about the bright light there was no doubt to be outside the cell. The indoor lighting, while by no means especially bright, was like fire in his eyes. He sprang forward but he was blinded and slightly confused by being unable to see. He slipped slightly on the sludge in his cell and was off balance when he made it into the hall. Not the most graceful of maneuvers, but seemingly successful... the enemy were cursing in surprise and they sounded like they were behind him. Ysak blinked rapidly and opened his eyes. The sight that greeted him was not welcome... sure he was past the two guys who had opened the door, but now he was right in the middle of at least six of their buddies.
All were dressed in blue and grey camouflage uniforms that were only slightly ragged, with radio commsets on their heads and mean looking sub machine guns in their hands. Ysak looked up just in time to catch the butt of one of those guns right above the bridge of his nose, the well delievered blow knocking him right off his feet with an arc of blood trailing from the wound. He hit hard and tried to roll, but there were too many pairs of legs around him, he couldn't get anywhere. Then they all started kicking him. Ysak hadn't lead a very peacable life... he'd always been getting in fights since he was young. He knew about bully's and fighting superior numbers and dirty fights. He knew that staying on the ground like this was going to get him killed. But try as he might, he just could not regain his feet... for all that he was faster, stronger and certainly smarter than his assailants, they outnumbered and surrounded him, and had the position of advantage. Heavy steel toed boots thudded into his legs and ankles and hips and stomach and chest with regularity, gun butts were always ready to club him back to the ground when he gained a knee. The guards seemed to be enjoying themselves, they certainly did not appear to lack in commitment or energy.
"That's enough." An officious voice said from Ysak's left... from down the passageway that extended past at least three other cell doors and around a right turn out of sight. Ysak looked up through pain teared eyes... mercifully they had left his head alone so only the initial strike dripped blood into his eyes. The kicking stopped but Ysak felt the muzzle of a gun press firmly into his upper spine and could sense the other muzzles trained on him as well. The man who had stopped the guards from kicking him to death didn't look like anyone special... an average middle aged businessman, maybe a lawyer or accountant, in a standard grey suit and tie. The man even had glasses. He looked utterly bored and slightly put upon, with an unpleasant sneer on his lips. "You've had your fun... save him for mine. And remember, Captain Sark want's him intact. He's got something special in mind for him."
"But... sir." one of the guards started to protest.
"Did I say something unclear?" the businessman snapped, eyes turning cold. The guard shuddered and shook his head. "Excellent. Now, go collect the specimen in cell Alpha one. I find that group sessions always tend to get the initial message across better than individual interviews. Data files suggests that these two specimens know each other quite well... friends even. Odd as it is to think that space monsters can concieve of friendship."
"Yes, sir." one of the guards said, beckoning five of his fellows to follow him. The two remaining guards continued to cover Ysak very closely, though one did haul him to his feet. Ysak had trouble standing... his head may have been spared but the rest of him had been worked over pretty good... he felt like he'd been hit all over with a meat tenderizer. The guards "helped" him stand... by jamming their guns painfully into his side whenever he started to sag. Ysak watched as the larger unit of guards opened another door. Dearka charged out like a shark headed for bloody water. He dropped one guard with a kick to the groin and felled another with hand chop to the neck, crushing the windpipe. He was still turning to hit the next guy when one of the others whipped out a police baton and cracked him across the back of the head with it, throwing the blond haired Coordinator down to the ground hard. The standing guards re-commenced their kicking frenzy, but this time with considerably more vehemence than before... one of their fellows was mewling in a ball holding his crushed organs and another was slowly choking to death through his ruptured windpipe. The businessman calmly ruffled a hand through his thinning brown-grey hair and smirked at Ysak. He let the kicking drag on for several seconds, just watching Ysak's expression. Finally, when Dearka's struggles started to taper off, the businessman held up a hand.
"Enough." he ordered crisply, not even bothering to look. "Revive him and bring him. I can already tell it's going to be an interesting session." The businessman picked up a briefcase from the floor at his feet and gestured for Ysak's guards to precede him down the passageway to the right. The guards manhandled Ysak between them, though there wasn't far to travel... the passage ended at a very secure looking steel door only a few meters away. The businessman punched a code into a key panel and the door hissed open... to reveal a small room with two doors and a wicked looking sentry gun protruding from the wall. The remotely or automatically controlled machine gun tracked Ysak as he was half carried through the room and through one of the doors. The next room was much bigger... creepy and dank stone walls, stone flagstone floor, dark stone ceiling... it looked like a dungeon out of a movie. A steel table stood incongrous in the middle of the room, bolted to the ground. Four sturdy metal chairs were also bolted to the ground about a foot apart on one side of the table, opposite them was an overstuffed blue leather armchair. Ysak was dragged to one chair and forced down into it, his hands were cuffed to his seat, one to a side, and his legs were similarly restrained.
He was at the far left of the line of metal chairs... when Dearka was carried in, still mostly limp, he was secured into the far right chair. The guards took up posts behind the two Coordinators, not quite out of sight but concealed enough that twisting his head to see them was very uncomfortable. The businessman walked into the room with a bounce in his stride and the sneer on his lips... a hideous combination. The man carefully set his briefcase on the table and pulled the armchair to a more comfortable spot before sitting down. A guard disappeared out of the room for several minutes and returned with a fold out drink table and several bottles of water, which he set up by the businessman's side, within easy reach. The guard shut and locked the door and resumed his post behind Dearka, who was just starting to wake up again.
"Who the hell are you?" Ysak demanded, not wanting to let the Blue Cosmos fanatic think he had the upper hand, though he undeniably did. The man was no doubt used to having prisoners be afraid of him... he was in for a rude surprise if he thought Ysak would be at all like that. "What do you want with us?"
The businessman leaned forward and steepled his fingers, as if in thought. He seemed to be studying Ysak. "You're a brash one. Excellent... it appears the files I was provided are at least initially accurate... you'd be surprised how much a person's psyche can change under stress... many of the people I've interviewed did not act at all like the people their files suggested they were. Not the case with you... so far."
"Was that supposed to be a threat? Do you think I'm scared of you... Natural?" Ysak sneered himself, throwing a lot of venom into his words. "Do you honestly think I'm going to tell you anything... you work for Blue Cosmos... you'll kill me as soon as you can."
"Definitely true." the businessman replied. "My name is Charles. Your's is Ysak, right?" Ysak did not respond. "Of course it is. I'm pleased to meet you, Ysak. You and I will unfortunately not be seeing much of each other... just this one session in all likelyhood. Captain Sark has very specifically requested that you be kept alive, whole and coherent for when he arrives here himself... some eighteen hours from now. You see... it's not the alive part thats tough... the human body can withstand an amazing amount of punishment before succumbing... even more so for prime young Coordinators like yourself, I'm sure you know. But since you must be whole and most importantly cognent of your situation... well, that severely limits how well you and I can get along. See, I'm an easy man to get along with, as your friends will quickly learn. All I need to remain happy is cooperation from my patients... all you have to do is answer my questions satisfactorily. Failing that, my sadness can be appeased with varying amounts of pain and suffering on your part. I'm not a malicious man, Ysak. I don't particularly want to torture you or your friends. All I want is answers, so we can all get to where we want to go... me, home to my wife and kids... you, to your grave. The quicker I get the answers I need, the quicker we all get what we want. Pain doesn't even have to come into it... though I must say, given what I've read, I don't think it will be that smooth, do you?"
"You're a sick bastard. I'm not telling you anything." Ysak spat a wad of blood and spit he'd been saving ever since the gun hit him in the head. The bloody spittle did not make it to Charles, but it did splatter across the cover of his briefcase. Charles sighed and withdrew a hankerchief from a pocket of his jacket and wiped the fluid away.
"As expected. Shall we commence?" he asked, speaking rhetorically. "Where is your main base? The one where the Kusanagi was hidden and where the Archangel and the Kusanagi rendevous?" Charles asked, taking out a notepad and pen. He waited ten seconds during which Ysak just stared at him with a superior grin on his face. Charles sighed again and placed pad and paper on the table. He flicked a hand. Ysak tensed for the blow, but none ever landed. Instead Dearka, who was just swimming his way back to full awareness, received a roundhouse punch to the jaw which snapped his head around and sent blood flying from smashed lips. The guard followed up the blow with a hard left jab to Dearka's gut, which audibly drove the breath from him. Charles flicked his hand again and the guard backed off. Ysak stared, speechless with fury.
"GODDAMN YOU!" Ysak shouted, heaving at his restraints to no avail... even a Coordinator can't just burst out of handcuffs. Especially with the near zero leverage he had sitting in the bolted to the floor chair.
"Shouting won't do you any good. The room is soundproofed, and all of your friends are in similar situations as you. All your yelling does is annoy me. You don't want that... I get exponentially less pleasant when I'm annoyed." Charles said in a bored voice. "Now, you see, this is how it is. Because of my orders, I cannot hurt you. I thought I made that clear before, but perhaps I was not plain enough. Thus the presence of Dearka here... I'm under no such orders with regard to him... oh, he must be kept alive, but whole and cognent is totally up to my discretion... the Doc only needs his body, not his mind. And limbs are not impossible to replace these days... you've encountered an example of such, the records say. Thus, my current strategy, as you have no doubt realized... you are smarter than me, after all. I'll ask you questions. You give me answers. For every non-answer or smart remark, Dearka will get progressively more beaten up. We're currently only on the surface marks... we'll graduate to the lesser bones if I don't like the next couple answers." Charles said calmly and without venom.
He started to pick up the pen and pad again, but stopped and gave Ysak a glare that sent ice running through his veins. "And if you prove resistant to that system of persuasion... Dearka is JUST a friend after all... well, my files indicate a certain attachment to two females also in our custody. My children are both boys... I have a soft spot for males. I have no such pity for females... whiny bitches. You don't want your loved ones under my thumb, Ysak. Now that things are clear, let me ask again. Where is your main base? Where is the Archangel and where is the Kusanagi?"
Ysak looked at Dearka. Dearka eyed him back, a grim look in his eyes. He was awake enough to have heard the interchange... his situation was unenviable. Especially since that while Ysak could reveal the base in Antarctica, he didn't currently know where the Archangel or Kusanagi were... he couldn't give a satisfactory answer. "I don't know" didn't seem very likely to be the sort of answer Charles was looking for. "Look... I can't really tell you that. The ships are mobile, they could have moved since..." Ysak started to say. Charles shook his head.
"No... no, I'm afraid that won't do. I'm sorry, Ysak, but that qualifies as a non-answer. Please, consider your friend... I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be suffering like he is, if your situations were reversed." Charles informed them.
"Actually I can..." Dearka started to say before one guard belted him across the jaw twice in quick succession while a second kicked him viciously in the shins and clubbed his gut with a baton. Dearka coughed up mucus stained thickly with red, it dripped slowly down his chest, utterly ruining his tuxedo. Ysak gritted his teeth... this wasn't going well.
"Again..." Charles began to say, leaning back to take a sip of water as he settled in for a long haul.
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Ashino walked without hurry through the bowels of the JIHAD complex. He was moving at a slow pace deliberately... his pulse was elevated and he had to admit he was getting antsy but he ruthlessly denied himself the luxury of hurrying. He frowned... normally he had no trouble with being in the facility that was the closest thing he had to a home, but ever since the war started it had begun to feel... constrained. Too small. Perhaps an understandable side effect of being allowed to experience the real world at long last, but still disconcerting. He didn't like the feeling... he didn't have much to cling to in his life, but his home, such as it was, was one of those things... and now it was slipping away with him barely realizing it. He set aside the lesser worry for the situation at hand... eight hours before a passenger jet had arrived unscheduled but not unexpected at the concealed landing strip that serviced the non military side of the installation. Ashino and the other BCPU's had been in a rest cycle at the time, he had only just found out that nine prisoners in their late teens had been unloaded from the jet and rushed into the facility and secured in the detention wing amidst a great deal of hubbub and secrecy.
Ashino had questioned several people as best he was able... few were willing to talk to a BCPU, even him, and those few who did either did not know anything or deliberatly concealed information from him for enjoyment... there were a lot of bastards like that at the facility, who thought they were better than a BCPU just because they were pure human. They treated him like a computer console that could move and talk and repair itself over time... not even as a living creature. A dog recieved more respect than he did from most people, even scientists at the facility. The only one that ever showed him any measure of respect or care was the Doc... and he was the third favorite son currently, behind Cray and Frost. But Ashino didn't need the respect of others... his respect for himself was more than enough. And while he didn't revel in it like his fellow BCPU's, Ashino admitted that when he couldn't get respect, he was more than glad to take the fear humans felt for him as recompense. Fear had ended up being the emotion that was most useful thing today.
It hadn't taken very much persuasion to get the guard to give him his passkey. Ashino had known the man for five years... had first met him by walking in on an illicit affair between the man and a female scientist. Ashino hadn't told on them and had performed a few other favors for the man over the intervening time. This combined with a slight roughing up in one of the observation dead zones had produced the passkey along with some interesting information, in exchange for Ashino's continued silence on the guards predations amongst the female BCPU candidates, the promised return of the passkey and a very badly sprained wrist on the guards part... Ashino had not appreciated the man's attempt to draw his baton. Ashino wasn't Frost or Cray... but a lot of people seemed to think that made him weak. It did not. If Ashino had wanted he could have crushed the guard's skull like a grape bewteen his hands... by all rights he should have as a man who preyed on children wasn't fit to live in his mind, but he'd waited... the news was important enough that he could not suffer the issue of explaining his action to the Doc.
Ashino wasn't particularly worried about getting in trouble or being prosecuted for killing the guard... the Doc was the law here and wouldn't get rid of a valuable asset like Ashino over just one guard... Frost had killed more than two dozen and was still around. Thinking of Frost, Ashino allowed himself to extend his stride slightly. Last time he'd checked Frost had been chilling out with an iced drink and a bloody horror movie down in his cell, but such things could change in an instant and Ashino needed to get to the prisoners before Frost did. Once Frost learned that Lacus Clyne, Kira Yamato and all their friends were only a few hundred meters away he would be after them like a wolf after fawns... Ashino was reasonably certain Frost would have little issue with killing his way past the guards to get to his hated enemies. But all that was hopefully in the future... as a matter of course Frost did not have Ashino's rapport... such as it was... with the guards and other sources of information and so he wasn't likely to learn anything until Cray told him.
Within minutes Ashino found himself at the security doors that led into the prison wing where Blue Cosmos hostages and prisoners were held for interrogation or ransom, or for execution. Also within the wing was the control center for the cameras and sentry gun turrets that were sprinkled throughout the walls and ceilings of most of the facility as well as the group holding cells used to contain groups of new BCPU candidates. The current candidates had been moved to temporary quarters elsewhere to ensure isolation of the prisoners, who were being treated with almost laughable caution. Four teenage guys and five teenage girls were hardly a threat to the security of the facility, even if they were mostly Coordinators. Especially given the condition they were bound to be in after... Ashino did a few mental calculations since he was denied the use of a wristwatch for safety reasons... nearly two hours of interrogation. Ashino eyed the cameras and gun barrels that tracked him as he swiped the card and entered the passcode. The Doc almost certainly knew what he was about... Ashino had figured this out when the first sentry gun he'd come across hadn't wasted him... and therefore the Doc had given his tacit approval as well. No doubt he wanted whole Coordinators to experiment upon, rather than bloody scraps. The doors hissed open and Ashino stepped into the small section of passageway and confronted the second set of doors. He reached out to enter the second password.
"Hold the door!" Frost called from behind him. Ashino turned... the other BCPU was trotting down the corridor towards him, every nerve and muscle wired tight. Frost was excited, it was plain to see. Ashino did not have to stop and think of why. Frost carried a combat knife, dark with crimson, in one hand, unmindful of the drip. Doubtlessly a spoil from the first guard to cross his path. "I've got a special appointment!" Frost cackled, hurrying his steps into a near run. Ashino grimaced... this was sooner than he'd hoped for. But not too soon... he jammed the door close button, meanwhile cupping his hand to his ear as if he couldn't hear what Frost had said. Frost still almost made it over the lintel before the door shut... he slammed into the six inch thick steel door hard enough to make it quiver. "Damn you, Ashino! You'll regret that!" Frost shrieked from the other side of the door. Ashino considered a moment before lashing out with a foot and demolishing the control panel on this side... shorting out the controls on the other side of the door.
Nothing a little repair wouldn't fix, but Ashino doubted Frost had the patience for that... and he'd have a lot more trouble getting help too. Ashino opened the inner door and entered the prison block. He paused a moment and considered. He wanted to meet the pilots he'd fought against in the desert for a while now and he wanted to meet the pilots who had fought Frost and emerged alive and intact as well. Ashino himself could not do that, at least as far as the simulators indicated. But while that meeting would satisfy his curiousity in a professional manner, he found himself heading towards the female side of the cell blocks. There would be a lot of interesting insight into the minds of the pilots to be gained from interviewing their lovers... such a close emotional bond was mostly beyond his understanding and he was intruiged to know how its dynamics worked to influence pilots of such skill.
Ashino looked into the cells as he passed... they were as filthy and dreary and disgusting as he remembered. He'd been sent here for punishment for a bad attitude once. He'd lost the attitude when he'd made BCPU 3... sarcasm just wasn't so funny after the operation... but the memories of the place had stayed. People had died here... other BCPU hopefuls he'd known. Ashino unconsciously shrugged. They were dead and he was not. He was good enough and they weren't. That was the end all and be all of it. Most importantly to the current situation, all the cells were empty. That meant all the females were being interrogated as a group. His pace quickened again... the guards had been given specific orders not to touch the prisoners except as the interrogaters indicated, but when beautiful females were involved male reason tended to be left behind... too often in a pile of torn clothing. While he himself was fully in control of his emotions and physiological responses... far more than any human he'd ever met... he knew the guards were not such... that they were in fact some of the lowest scum of the earth. They would be more than happy to make the ladies acquaintances... willing or not. He couldn't hear anything through the soundproofed door but now was not the time for dithering, he kicked open the door and strode in like he owned the place. The scene that greeted his eyes was far from pleasant, but not quite yet at the stage he had been fearing. Quite. Barely.
----------------------------
It had not been a fun time for Lacus. For that matter it hadn't been a fun time for Cagalli or Miriallia... or Katie and Chanel either. But it had been especially bad for Lacus. They'd all been drugged and woken up in seperate cells, cells so dirty Lacus wouldn't have kept hermetically sealed supplies in them, cells that stank beyond her ability to comprehend. Blood, waste, decay, neglect, and death despoiled the air and the rank stench of terror also seemed to seep out of the very walls. Lacus had tried to tell herself that she had just been letting the shock of captivity get to her... but it was a hard illusion to overcome. Especially with Cervantes Zunnichi's last words cycling over and over through her head. "Do tell Frost hello... I've heard he has a bit of a thing for you."... the icy, almost gleefully delievered sentence twisted in her mind like a venemous serpent, driving away conscious thought and threatening to bring blind panic in its place. Lacus did not have good memories of the last time she'd met Frost, in Switzerland. And Kira had been around to protect her then.
Attempt to protect her... Frost ended up striking down Kira as well, despite his best efforts. an unpleasant side of her mind wickedly pointed out. Now she had been locked in a dark smelly cell, with no idea where she was, no means to escape on her own and no idea if she was totally alone or if her friends were just a wall away. She had tried to take comfort in the certain knowledge that Kira would be moving heaven and earth to get to her... assuming he's even still alive... Cervantes Zunnichi looked like he wanted to choke him to death and Frost doesn't bear him any good will either... nobody in Blue Cosmos does. And unless I'm totally imagining things, I am in a Blue Cosmos stronghold. She'd wrestled with despair and panic for quite some time... at least an hour, until finally she was able to calm herself. Panicking would only makes things worse... being calm and serene would work to her advantage as no doubt her captors expected terror to reduce her to rabbit like meekness. They had another thing coming if they thought her meek... sure, maybe that was the impression a lot of people got, since they saw her expressing her ideals in song and forum in public. But there was a steel hard core inside her, a sense of purpose and determination that would not let her falter, would not let her back down and let the world spiral into darkness.
She'd started singing herself a silly little song, more a nursery rhyme than anything thought out, but the repetitive sounds and familiar motions helped center herself and collect her thoughts, like it always did. She'd sung like that for perhaps fifteen minutes, voice slowly rising from a near whisper to a normal talking voice to close to the normal volume she reserved for when she sang to private audiences at parties without voice amplification. A practical side effect of the singing was that maybe her friends would hear her and know she was about as okay as she could get. Someone had heard her, that was for sure. She'd barely reached her stride volume when at least one someone had started banging very loudly on the metal cell door. She ignored it, raising her voice louder. If they didn't like what she was doing they could come in and try to stop her... she could out sing any noise they could make on the far side of a secure door. She'd felt very proud and determined and courageous right then... until the metal slot in the door whammed open and a small cylinder was dropped through.
The cylinder had barely bounced twice when a thick grey mist began spewing from it. Lacus had tried closing her eyes and holding her breath, but it was no use against the tear gas, which quickly left her gasping for breath and crying uncontrollably on the bunk. The people outside waited a few minutes and then yanked the door open and pulled her out, still gasping and weeping. She'd been helpless to do anything but cough as a pair of bulky and well armed guards had muscled her down a brightly lit passageway and through a pair of doorways. She'd tried to call out for help but the gas had irritated her throat and mouth so much she could barely manage a croak. The guards had sat her down in a hard metal chair and cuffed her hands to it's armrests, though they'd left her legs free. She'd been staring around the dank and dark dungeon-y type room for perhaps two minutes, slowly recovering her sight and voice when the door banged open again.
This time the girl that was being lifted between the Blue Cosmos guards... dressed in reasonbly well fitting blue and gray splotch patterned uniforms and armed with wicked looking stub nose machine guns... was Miriallia. She was still in her evening dress, just as Lacus was. She wasn't coughing... obvious she hadn't irritated the guards by singing like Lacus had. But she had sported a fresh and livid bruise under her left eye... clearly a punch mark. Lacus frowned in anger... Miriallia was one of the nicest people she'd ever met... and one of the most non-threatening... most of the time. Like any person she had buttons you could press that would turn her from nice girl next door to angry lioness, but she was hardly much of a threat to two well armed soldiers. There was no need to have struck her in order to get her to come with them. Of course, there was little need to have tear gassed Lacus herself for the same purpose... obviously the people here did not believe in the principles of restraint. The guards cuffed Miriallia into the chair next to Lacus. This time the guards did not leave, instead standing at rest behind them, one behind Lacus and the other behind the stunned Miriallia. Mir was just beginning to recover her full senses when the door almost slammed off it's hinges. Lacus looked up with hope... surely such a violent opening presaged Kira or Athrun or one of the other guys breaking in to rescue them. No such luck... a tangled ball of three guards and a single set of shapely but well muscled limbs clothed in a green silk dress rumbled through the doorway, followed quickly by two more guards.
Cagalli got in more than a few good licks... unlike Lacus and Miriallia she reveled in physical activity and had never shied away from ungirlish things like knife fighting, fist fighting, gun fighting and lots of other types of fighting. While other girls of her social station learned diplomacy and business management and horseback riding and musical instruments, she'd been in martial arts lessons or on the pistol range or playing sports. She could take good care of herself... as she'd proved in several situations during the last war... she'd given Athrun a run for his money on a deserted island from what Lacus had heard... sure, she'd caught him off guard but Lacus knew Athrun was no easy target for anyone, much less a teenage tomboy princess. In any case, Cagalli hadn't come with the guards quietly. She was a tornado of kicking legs and scratching fingernails, coupled with karate chops, knee thrusts and head butts. To Lacus it looked like Cagalli was working out more than a little bit of stress on the guards... something Lacus very much wished she'd been able to do.
Pacifism aside, she was sure these men did not deserve any mercy she might be able to muster up. They did not deserve to die... but that didn't mean that capturing them had to be painless either. However, the elation quickly faded, as even as Cagalli managed to ground one guard with a open fisted strike to the nose that left him twitching sporadically on the floor, the two others not in the melee drew extendable metal batons and clubbed her down from behind. The remaining four guards wasted no time in securing the semi-conscious Cagalli to the chair to the left of Mirillia, two down from Lacus. They also secured Cagalli's legs to the chair legs, which were bolted to the ground, as were the legs of all the chairs. There was a steel table in front of them, similarly secured to the floor and beyond that a large but worn looking armchair with a blue leather covering.
Next in the door were Chanel and Katie, both carried in semiconscious or unresisting by groups of guards. Both bore signs of recent physical abuse... a pair of black eyes for Katie and a stomach welt for Chanel...clearly the guards had not wanted to chance another altercation with their female prisoners after their bad experience with Cagalli... the man she'd downed had been dragged away flopping limply... the guards hadn't looked hopeful about his recovery. It was too bad, in Lacus's opinion... as good a fighter as Cagalli was, she was mostly just spirit and fire and instinct... Katie and Chanel were both trained by combat experts in hand to hand fighting... they probably could have accounted for several guards each if they'd been allowed to fight. Of course the aforementioned guards would likely be dead, which was contrary to Lacus's wishes... but she wouldn't have been able to blame them. Killing someone in self defense was not okay... but it was sometimes necessary. She could admit that. I
f the guards tried to tear her dress off she'd show them how well she herself could fight... she was sure they'd be surprised. Following Katie and Chanel in was an older woman... maybe thirty five or forty. She was dressed in a severe red business suit of average quality. She had dark blond hair bound back in a tight bun and worn spectacles. She looked like a secretary from sort of workplace drama movie. She had a blue leather briefcase in one hand and a thermos of liquid in the other. The secretary strode calmly over to the armchair and set her case down on the table, with the thermos of what now smelled like tea next to it. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose as if to clear away a headache and then turned to the five girls. "My name is Angela. Please, call me Angie. I'm sure we'll all become very close friends. We certainly are going to be spending a lot of time together." the woman said with a cheery smile. She beckoned at the guards, who mostly left the room, leaving a single guard standing at port arms behind each girl.
"What do you want with us?" Cagalli demanded, experimenting with how far she could move while cuffed to the chair. It was a distressingly short distance... no more than an inch or two. She wasn't going anywhere until she figured out how to get out of the cuffs.
"I'm going to have to ask that you quit fidgeting around like that, Ms. Cagalli. Oh, pardon me, Mrs. Cagalli. You see, it makes me nervous when my patients fidget. When I get nervous I have this defense reflex... I get mad." Angela said, her voice cheery until the last part, where it twisted into something almost feral. "When I get mad, my I may do things I would ordinarily not even consider. Observe." Angela flicked her wrist casually, as if shooing off a fly. Without warning the soldier behind Cagalli stepped forward and slapped her hard across the mouth, following the slap up with a backhand that rocked her head back violently. The guard readied another blow, but Angel flicked her hand again and he backed off. "I trust we all understand?" Angela asked, voice lighthearted and almost breathless again.
"I understand you're a very sick person..." Katie said.
"...Who gets their kicks hurting other people." Chanel finished. "Just the sort of person..."
"...Blue Cosmos would use as an interrogator. You bitch." Katie completed. Angela looked at them with annoyance. She withdrew a pen and note pad from her briefcase and tapped the pen on the steel table.
"That is interesting. I'd heard that twins could sometimes complete a thought for their sibling or accurately predict their actions or thoughts, but never have I seen something like this. There's something about you two girls... I can see I'll have to be more careful with you two." Angela wrote herself a note... it was probably nothing but better to have investigated for naught than wasted something potentially valuable. "That curiosity aside, the finishing each other's sentences thing? Yeah, that makes me nervous." Angela told them, a wicked smile distorting her face. "I'm a twitchy scared rabbit in truth... it doesn't take much to get me nervous. I'm sure you'll learn what does and does not make me nervous over the course of our association. Well, you will if you want to live very long anyway." Angela said, flicking her wrist at Katie and Chanel, who braced themselves. The guards did not hit them. Instead they reached into lockers hidden by the wall behind them and withdrew buckets of water. Ice water, glacial ice melted from the tops of the mountains. Without ceremony they drenched Chanel and Katie, who shrieked in shock at the freezing water. "Oh, it seems we've ruined your dresses... too bad, they were quite nice." Angela commented. "We can't have you shivering all over the place, poor dears..." Angela nodded at the guards, who wasted no time in tearing the sopping wet dresses off them, leaving them in their underclothes, still damp and shivering.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Miriallia cried. "You're supposed to be an interrogator, aren't you? Why haven't you asked any questions? Don't we have to answer wrong before you start hurting us? Isn't that how it's supposed to like?"
Angela smirked. "You watched too many action movies, dear. Maybe if I had even the least bit of respect for you girls, it might be something like that. But one of you is a Coordinator... a space monstress of renown. And the rest of you little tarts are Coordinator lovers... the lowest of the low, race traitors. You welcomed the enemy into your arms and your bed and defiled yourselves in the process. You must be punished for your stupidity... after we've purged your taint... contained it in the case of Miss Lacus... then the questions can start. Right now it's purgatory." Angela said, rubbing her hands together in delight. She opened her briefcase further and started taking things out... jumper cables, batteries, silken cords, jars, pliers and other normally innocuous items that took on a hideous new light in the current situation. "Of course it's not quite true... not all of you have slept with a monster... Miriallia, Chanel and Katie are all still virgin... actually a bit of a shock in this day and age. Your prudence is to be commended... but the intent for taboo was there, that there can be no doubt. We have to punish you to save you from yourselves... your wantoness shames all Natural women. I'd sooner bed a crocodile than a Coordinator... I find it incomprehensible, where could such sweet girls as you have gone wrong?"
"You're going to torture us?" Lacus asked , shocked in disbelief. She remembered the conversation they had with TEMPEST in Hawaii before Pearl Harbor... she'd been sure that torture was a thing of the past. Now it was staring her in the face... not a pleasant awakening.
"Bonus points for the Coordinator... she can recognize and state the obvious. Now if only the rest of her race could be so observant, the world would be a better place." Angela mocked. She placed the batteries and jumper cables off to one side and then unscrewed a jar and tapped out the contents onto the table... a tarantula of abnormal size, as big as James's hand. With deft and sure motions Angela stabbed a barbed hook through the thickest part of the spider, the hook was attached to a strong thin cord that was tied to a metal rod about three feet long. Angela held the rod and lifted the writhing spider off the table, swinging it around like a load on a crane, making happy little noises of enjoyment. "Treatment proscribed... shock therapy for the twins... the belt for Miriallia... the hot poker for the fiery Mrs. Cagalli... and the icky spider for the delicate Ms. Lacus." Angela informed the guards. She stared at Lacus and licked her lips. "Don't worry... the venom has been removed... the bite will be very painful but you won't die, Ms. Lacus. You don't like spiders, do you? I can get a snake or a centipede or a rat if you aren't an arachniphobe." Angela swung the spider over so it passed within inches of Lacus's head... she couldn't help but flinch away. She wasn't arachniphobic... but the spider certainly wasn't something she wanted to have placed on her, much less bite her.
"Miss Angela..." one of the guards called hesitantly. Angela looked over with a bemused expression.
"What?" she snapped. The guard looked almost ashamed.
"Well... well, it seems a waste... I mean, I know we're supposed to soften them up for you... but, well... it's been a long time for me, you see. I've been on guard duty here for months without relief. Would... would it be okay if we were to... well, y'know... before we start purging them?"
"They'll still be suitable for that after you purge them." Angela pointed out. The guard shook his head slightly and looked at her plainitively... Lacus realized the guard and his friends couldn't be more than a few years older than her. Of course, right now that mattered very little to her, since she had a very bad feeling about the way the conversation was going. It was worse having to keep an eye on the spider, which was twisting on the end of its cord as Angela absently bobbed it around, inching it closer to Lacus with every bounce. Angela sighed... and withdrew the spider. "Very well. Be quick... shouldn't be hard for men your age. And try not to rough them up too badly... I want them aware for the purging... if they are incoherent then it largely defeats the purpose of it all."
"My lucky day..." the guard behind Lacus said, stepping up and putting his hand on her shoulder in a manner she most definitely did not want anyone other than Kira doing. Lacus started to steel herself... she had thought this sort of barbarity was gone from the world but as usual the world had decided to drop a decidedly ugly surprise right in her lap just when she really didn't need more trouble. It was just as the guard started to slide his hand down from her shoulder that the door was kicked almost right off it's hinges. Lacus's heart jumped into her throat... certainly this was rescue. Her heart dropped back down almost instantly... she did not recognize the short red haired boy who stood framed in the entranceway... he didn't look much older than her, if that. Worse, he was dressed in the uniform of an Earth Alliance pilot, though all rank insignia had been carefully removed. The young man surveryed the room with an imperious eye. Lacus watched with mingled hope and dread. She had no idea what was going to happen next... she could only pray it wasn't some new and worse torment about to be visited upon them.