Heat rushing through every nerve within the body. Rage that culminated from weeks of abuse, torture..., questioning that had no end. Being separated from his Captain, hadn't been the first thing on his mind when the B.S.A.A. took control of the situation, thanks to their intentional surrender. However, it had been an unhappy side effect. Still. His body could heal, after the blows, after the scores of track marks and tests. He wouldn't die. Nor would Chris. And not dragging on the circus ride of their escape, no one else would be killed at his hands, or in Chris' wake of uncontrollable violence. Forcing calm on himself, knowing full well the results of his actions, Piers had to struggle to keep his demeanor. They had the opportunity to end the war without killing the men and women that served under them, that had once called Chris Captain. They would have to take the risks of submitting themselves to the justice of their peers, for the chance that would eventually come to stop what injustice had been done to the B.S.A.A. The lies they had been fueled with. The truth needs evidence, and to have it, he would reach into the depths of his soul and issue forth the challenge. No one would die, not for him. Only those who had served to degrade the system his partner had created with his own two hands. Corruption. But he would not become corrupt to do it.

And so it had been. Days, weeks, months. In the training that had been driven into him since the beginning days in the Army; a soldier learns to tell time, even when his senses are deprived and his world becomes darkness. They teach the tiny tricks that keep your mind sharp and your talents sharper. It is, and was, a test of time. There were times, locked in the darkness, that Piers could feel the faint traces of Chris' presence, and others where his voice had skirted through the bleak void and reached out for his soul. In those moments, the struggle to stay segregated, to stay silent became the hardest. To not try and grab for that connection like his partner did and feel the string attached to his heart pull taut from the distance. He knew full well, as the days turned into weeks, that his pain was that of the former Captain. That each torture could be felt, like a paper cut being ground against cement, a boot crushing the bone. A nagging pain, that the longer ignored, became unbearable in the loneliness. The pain he felt gliding across into him, was not his own, was not the pain that they bestowed upon himself. Rather than scalpels and knives, driven into the fleshy parts of his still very humanesque body. The brass had chosen isolation into the deep, dank darkness, of an insulated cell, with no light..., no sound. The incessant dripping of a faucet wasn't heard, for lack of water, and despite hunger, there was no food. Isolation, was incarceration. Neglect. He was no longer human. With that in mind, they had given him nothing, no clothing, no food, water, or anything a basic human would require, and they left him there... To rot. To deteriorate and rust under the earth. You become a corpse, lost in the dark.

So you remember the old tricks. The ones that you traded with soldiers in the sandbox. To not allow the mind to warp and grasp at the straws. You reach back into your training, into the C.Q.C. training, the conditioning, and the lectures on what it takes to keep your wits about you, and you suffer through it. Shut out anything that makes you think of getting out, anything that supplies hope and makes you struggle through each day, and you keep yourself sharp. They had no interest in questioning Piers. They knew why he ran. To escape them, because the Captain came for him, and their research could hold until they had all the answers they wanted, or until they got bored. Then they could move on..., pull him up from the pits of Hell and return him to the inhuman life that was written in fate for him to endure. Until it was time. Until the time was right. When they had finally remembered his silent existence..., and it was an all too familiar face who came for him. Who came to remind him how cruel humanity was, and he closed out the last remnants of his connection with humanity.


The Generals were in a conference and the topic being discussed was Captain Redfield's refusal to speak about the information they wanted. "Captain Redfield has been tortured in just about every way imaginable for the past two months. The interrogators even made him drink acid and all that did was give him internal burns that caused him no pain and distorted his voice. When the interrogators returned a while later, Captain Redfield just looked at them like they were nothing," General Stephens said. "We asked questions about the nature of the virus, how he got infected, things of that nature and the thing didn't give any information out. Torture has failed," General Miller stated. The Generals went over the notes and how Chris was able to resist every form of torture with ease. "This is getting us nowhere. Physical torture won't work on him… but what about emotional torture?" Everyone looked at General White and she continued, "We know Redfield went out of his way to save Nivans when he was confined, so what about bringing Nivans back here and torturing him? If we do that, then we may yet get the answers we seek." Several heads nodded at her words. It was an unusual tactic, but it may just work. "We have nothing to lose and I know the Director will sign off on it. Let's get this done as quickly as possible," General Stephens said.


So long. It was has been so long.

Riley whispered little reassuring annoyances at him about how 'everything is going to be alright' over and over. Riley was a good kid, he didn't deserve this treatment. Once they were teammates and now they were using Riley in an attempt to guilt Piers into not attacking him. If they knew anything about him, they would have known that he didn't need that to keep him in line. After what he'd endured over the last months... the darkness.., the bleak soul trapping darkness within him. The things Piers kept long hidden from anyone, and even then they came back to haunt him. To keep him in line. This interrogation was going to hurt, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, nothing that could break him. He could handle the questioning, the days and weeks and months of tortured questioning that he had hid from Chris as best he could. But now? He just didn't want Chris to feel his thoughts when they did. There were some things in Piers' life better left unsaid and if they were going to dig as deep as they were notorious for, there would be nothing but walls to keep his captain from feeling what he'd hidden all this time. So long he couldn't count the months it had been since he'd seen Chris, and even now they kept them separated. They knew that they could feel each other, and with this proximity... he could feel his Captain probing his mind, searching him for security. So long they'd been apart and still Chris' first thought was to search him, seek out the little things, reassure him. They had no time for that though... no matter how long it had been, and all he could do was allow the man to continue. 'Just settle down, Captain.' He could feel his Captain's rage building and it almost shocked him. The closer he was to Chris, the less he felt of his person and the more he merely observed his reactions, but now that they were here in the same place... it was as though he were right beside him, feeling his anger. As though they were touching one another even from a distance. It was coached feelings, loathing wrenching up into his muscles and keeping them taut, warring with internal conflict for how he felt about Piers and his inclinations to rip those men to shreds who had dared to use him against the captain. 'Focus.' Once Riley walked him through the labyrinth, he deposited Piers inside an interrogation room that was easily the size of a shoe box.

Cement walls with no glass and no lights. Just a black room with a speaker mounted on the wall. Then darkness, always with the darkness. They were going to make Chris know just what his silence was buying the sniper. When the door closed the entire room went pitch and Piers felt his breathing hitch, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. Trying not to let the dark conjure the fear he had begun to learn from it. They weren't taking chances this time around. Didn't want to have another quarantine accident on his hands. Tough thumb pads ran over the tips of gunner's fingers, familiar with the sensation and reminding himself of each moment the square feet, the size of the room and the location of the door. Chris taught him very long ago how to deal with having your sense of sight taken away. But how would they force answers from him if there was no other person in the room, no lights, no nothing. And for that much, what was the speaker for. It wasn't until almost a half an hour later that voices were heard over it, the metallic clanking on the other end the sounds of chairs being pulled out and then a single voice. "Alright then, Captain Redfield... where shall we begin?" They were going to make him listen.

Every crunch of removed teeth, every tear of skin and puncture of his eye socket transmitted over that damn intercom. Piers steeled himself to the sounds, swallowing back his remorse and fighting every inch of his body that wanted to tear through these walls and remove limbs from people. So this was what they were willing to do to their own Captain Chris Redfield? They were willing to change and convert themselves into monsters, beasts of terror and sadism? He couldn't help the gleam of his pulses sending sparks in the air at every turn. Chris' reassurances were helpful, but it didn't help the fact that they were set completely on edge. This was what they had to do to spare those that needed sparing, but it didn't make it any easier knowing full well that hours after torturing his Captain they weren't even done with the tip of the iceberg. Whatever the case was it was better sacrificing the one over the many... even if that one was them. The many being the rest of those teams, made of men who had the fortitude to continue on, those men that weren't involved in this long strain of abuses of powers. If it took withstanding against a long list of abusers, then fine. Hearing Chris left alone in the darkness after their own first attempt was at least somewhat settling, knowing the man had time to recuperate his strength. Then, Chris was a bioweapon now too. His skin was like steel, and it was no doubt they'd think of something to get passed that little hiccup.

'Piers is moving, they are moving him… closer.' Chris' bond with Piers was something the Captain truly appreciated. There were times they hurt his lover and he was able to knock Piers out. It was something that was unexplained and a mystery to the people who were overseeing Piers' "care." But, a few hours later, their bond felt very strong and it was due to Piers being in the same building as Chris. Hell, the viral Captain could feel his partner and his emotional state was a jumble. It's been that way for a long time now, but while Chris could 'speak' to Piers mentally, the sniper couldn't truly respond back in kind due to not fully accepting the virus. There were even times when Chris' mental calls were rebuffed and it hurt Chris emotionally when it happened. At the moment, Chris was trying to 'speak' to Piers, but he was being partially blocked by the sniper. 'Damn it, Piers! Don't block me! I can feel your pain, let me help you.' His sniper was so damned stubborn! The door opened to his cell and his torturers brought in a video monitor that had speakers built in. It was hooked up and placed in front of him. They said nothing during this time and once the video and audio feed was going, they left the cell. 'What the hell is going on?'

A short while later, Piers was brought in and the sniper has seen better days. 'PIERS!' The Captain made a call out to his partner, but before he could feel any sort of response… "Captain Redfield. Your refusal to talk has brought us to this point. Since physical torture has failed, perhaps a different approach is needed." Several men came inside the room where Piers was, including two of Chris' torturers.

Steel panged on steel and suddenly his own door was opened, light flooding the corners as he stood in the middle, poised with waves of electricity biting the air around him. "Your turn, Agent Nivans. Time we had a... small chat." Mismatched eyes narrowed at the man before him, taking in a deep breath to reassure himself before nodding, stepping out of the room. No use fighting, this was going to happen one way or another and he was starting to see why it was Chris had been bent on getting him out. He almost leapt from his skin knowing what they were doing to his Captain. Hopefully Chris was prepared for the same. His hands were still cuffed, they hadn't bothered taking those off and they probably wouldn't, he could feel the chaffing into his skin and the gnawing the metal clasps were doing at his wrists. It wasn't painful, just annoying. Piers had been shot a zillion times and almost blown up a number of times more than that. It wasn't as though he wasn't accustomed to... "Why don't you come with us?" Winding halls and labyrinths brought by the hands of his 'watchdog' found him standing in front of a simple thing that most any man did withstand in torture. That didn't make it any easier for Piers when he saw what they'd decided for him. Either they'd been talking to his team, or this was a stroke of unlucky happenstance, because of all the things Piers hated, drowning was at the top of the list. The man sitting beside the giant bucket with his own little pitcher, grungy knuckles cracking one after another, raised his head slowly to finally meet those concerned eyes. "You know I heard from a little birdie... Agent... that you have a fear of drowning." Of course they'd asked around. Sharp oculars picked out all the devices of torture, the knife, the bloodied pliers from Chris' teeth, or someone else's blood... the wet rag, and the chair; complete with restraints and all.

The younger sniper hedged when shoved forward, trying to force himself to relax, despite what he knew was coming. They could do this all day but they wouldn't get any answers. "Alright kiddies, tie up our little guinea pig and let him take a good look at each of those individually. I want him to see what is in store for his pretty little face." Piers was shoved back into the chair, rubber grips yanked around his ankles, unlocking his cuffs only to strap them down to the chair, waist and neck. As they tied him down, the man who had confronted him, some old warhorse perhaps, gripped hold of a satellite radio, holding it up to his lips, a sadistic smile in face. "Captain Redfield... I do appreciate a man with resistance. However, after my boys told me that you were refusing to speak I've decided that the best way to get a man to talk is by asking him nothing at all. For every unanswered question... however long it takes until you are ready, I will be more than pleased to continue this treatment. By now, my accomplices have given you the other radio attached to this, so whenever you are ready to talk. Just let me know." Snickering, stroking his graying goatee, the old torturer strut back, placing the radio on beside him on the table. "But it's alright, isn't it, Captain? We'll see how long you are willing to let your second here take the punishment." Hendricks, the man who had assumed control, smirked, holding up the wet rag from beside the table. "Tip his head back, make sure you wear those gloves boy, our little electric eel here can't control those sparks from what I've been told."

Piers grit his teeth, snarling at the man silently, his eyes narrowed. They were going to use Piers to get to Chris? He wondered whose idea that had been, but he knew the answer: Jill. She'd give up details on Piers and Chris if it meant that Chris would go unharmed. If they were administering pain to Piers to get to Chris, it left him unhurt. At least that's what she thought. Stupid bitch. Prying hands yanked his jaw open, almost cracking it out of place as the rag was crammed into place, another thrown over the rest of his face so that his eyes and nose were covered as well, throwing back the chair. "Hope you enjoy the sounds of suffering, Captain, because I'm going to have to try to not enjoy how your little sniper here holds up. Bet he'll choke real pretty for us." The sounds of sloshing, splashing water invaded the air, and then the choking as water was instantly poured over Piers face, fighting the sensation of water invading every sense, biting his lungs quickly. "Tell me, Captain, why was it so important to save your number two, huh? He did turn himself in the first time rather than stay with you. Perhaps he was scared of you, hmm...? More water boys, and give me the knife." Sparks immediately arched off Piers' lean body, his upper torso soaked as he coughed against the assault on his senses, feeling the tip of the knife against his arm. "Hear you regenerate this skin, but I bet it hurts like hell to get stabbed, little boy. Playing at a man's game you know... That's alright; it'll help you drown faster. Just accept the water and let that fire in those lungs of yours. Tell me, Captain, your little boy here is good at being quiet, but how long will you let me carve him up? How long until he drowns? Pull him up boys, let him breathe..., we're taking our time with this one." Waterboarding could take hours, days. Piers was pulled up and the rags were removed, wet features winced in agony, but silently so, chewing his cheek as oxygen burning into his lungs before the treatment was repeated. "The longer you wait, the more fun we'll have with this, Captain. Strap him to the ground, spread those arms out, let him fight as long as he wants. Leave the rag... We've got some theories about your little boy here, Captain, about time that we tried them out. Let's peel that pretty tan flesh from the bone."

Hendricks placed the radio down, a standby so that everything was heard..., but none of his own words would reach his subject. Chuckling darkly at the sound of a knife ripping free from its sheath. Chris could hear every bit of torture that was being done to his partner. His lover. The man he loved more than anything in the world. 'NONONONONONO!' Waterboarding his sniper, those butchers. There was a justified fear of the water after China. The sniper had experienced far too many close calls with the Haos. The underwater facility had done more psychological trauma to Piers than physical. There was a minor discomfort by the waterside for the sniper that Chris never fully understood before that. The only thing that mattered for him was that it crafted a fear in Piers' heart that only he could feel, and his scream was more than simple pain. The pain, fuck the pain was terrible. Chris tried to take in as much pain as possible, even though Piers was blocking him. He knew why his lover was doing it. It was due to Piers feeling some of the pain Chris went through during his time here. The immense torture his Captain went through. Because the sniper hasn't fully accepted the virus, he never realized that Chris didn't suffer at all. All that was being filtered through their bond was discomfort more than anything else. Yet, Piers saw it as pain. He didn't know the difference. Chris knew the difference and he could still feel the pain his lover was suffering right now. "AAAAHHH!" 'PIERS!' Chris could hear Piers scream, could feel his pain. Emotional torture… and it was clearly seen on Chris' face.

"Hear that, Captain..., he screams so beautiful... Take the skin off. I want to see what lies beneath."