A/N: Quick update while I still can. Hope you enjoy!

Still don't own them.

Chapter 11

Benji couldn't possibly remember how long it had been since he had been placed into another room which looked much like the prison cell he and Mike had previously been at, only a little bit cleaner. He felt reality slipping out of his grip. Ever now and then he would have some odd black outs. He didn't remember what was going on during them, and it frightened him.

Mike was apparently given the freedom to move around the building as it was evident he couldn't escape anyway. He spent most of his time with Benji who couldn't leave his room, losing any ability to walk every time he tried to. However, Mike did leave him once in a while. The certain freedom the man had didn't mean he had any favors, though, as new and new bruises appeared on him. Benji assumed they were still looking for possible witnesses.

This time, however, the agent decided to bring this up, as his friend looked especially bad. Mike's eye was swollen, his lip busted, he was covered in bruises everywhere where it could be seen, and his eyebrow was split, a trail of already half-dried blood going across his face from it.

"Why are they doing this to you?" Benji asked bitterly as Mike sat next to him. His friend gave him a short glance. When there was no immediate answer, the agent asked again. "I mean, are they looking for other students… or…"

He froze and fell silent. He had a subconscious feeling that he knew what had actually happened but pushed it aside with utter disgust. Mike's eyes, however, had spoken volumes before the man even opened his mouth.

"Guess they want to see how much they can make you do," the voice was weak and pained. Benji felt a lump in his throat. "You do fight pretty well though. Especially for a guy who only has one arm. I mean one functioning arm. At the moment".

The ex-technician couldn't care less about his friend's rushed excuses. He had forgotten even about his arm which was now bandaged securely to his torso. His heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly and was about to jump out of his chest.

"Mike, I am so…"

"It's okay," the other man interrupted softly. "I know it's not you. Looks like their invention is pretty effective though".

Benji rested his head against the wall he was sitting by. After a while he finally managed to look at his friend's face, the horrid beatings making him frown even more now that he knew what or, better to say, who they had come from.

"Why do you keep coming back here then?" his voice sounded completely defeated. "After all that I've done to you?"

"Not your fault," Mike argued.

"I am dangerous…"

"Now you are not," Mike said stubbornly. "Only when you have those… moments. I can't begin to imagine what you are going through now… but I thought you shouldn't be alone".

There was silence. Benji wondered whether Mike was high again and maybe he thought he was in some kind of heroic movie which pushed his self-defense instinct away.

"I tried to figure out how they control you," Mike spoke at last. "So that maybe I could help somehow… but it seems that whatever they use is not here. I saw Wickham leave three days ago. Didn't see him come back though".

Benji looked at him with an unidentifiable expression. He couldn't quite understand how he felt, to be honest. Everything was weird around him but it was much, much weirder inside. He opened his mouth to say thank you or to tell Mike how much he appreciated what he was doing but then it happened again. He felt his vision blur and his heart seemed to be racing. Now that he knew what was coming he tried to gather all his might to focus and not to give in.

Mike saw that struggle and tensed, ready to run away.

"That's right, Benji," he didn't know why he stayed. He just really wanted to help. Or maybe it was just more interesting that way. "Stay with me! Stay here! Hold on!"

Benji tried to focus on the voice. He opened his eyes and could barely make out his friend's features in the darkness which was beginning to block his vision completely. And then there was additional pain without the source. That kind of artificial pain that was nothing but sheer agony without any natural cause. That struggle was too much for the agent.

When he came to his senses, he was alone. He had a feeble hope that Mike had managed to run away and save himself. However he then looked at his right hand and noticed that the knuckles were red. Feeling rage at himself, he slammed his hand into the wall. The skin broke, and several streams of blood began to run down to his wrist. He repositioned his hand so that now blood was sliding down his fingers and dropping to the floor from the tips. It reminded him of Mumbai. One thing, however, was completely different. His fingers had hurt in Mumbai. Now he felt absolutely nothing. It's like it hadn't been his hand that was bleeding at the moment. He was like some kind of a robot. Or a zombie, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. Or, most fittingly, a toy on remote control. Forced to do whatever they wanted him to. Even to use his own friend as a human punching bag. He really hoped he hadn't hurt Mike that much this time. He looked at his still bleeding hand. Turns out being absolutely painless wasn't always good. He wondered if he could still cry. Apparently he could. At the moment.