(flashback)
Stratton's face loomed over him.
He'd been taunting Tony, with threats, and the knife he so often used on him.
"Tony, don't you want to make me stop hurting you? You can, you know. You want to kill me, don't you? Right now."
Stratton casually stood up straighter, looking down at him. "I don't blame you."
He said softly," I know I'd like to kill you. Maybe later...I'll slip, and cut you too deeply with the knife. You'd just bleed out. I'll tell Latham it was an accident. And then I'll dump you overboard, like Barrett."
"Screw...you..." Tony breathed out.
Stratton said smugly, "I think you're the one who's screwed here."
Stratton flipped the switch on the small generator.
Pain coursed through Tony like a fire through all his nerves. His twitching limbs fought the confines of the chair. He gasped and struggled to breathe through it, but it was hard not to cry out.
It stopped for only a moment.
Then he screamed, feeling the burning, slicing agony as Stratton passed the second wave of electricity through the wires taped to his body.
Sweat ran down his skin in rivulets, making the current sail through him with more ease. He was naked, as he usually was for the torture sessions.
And then it stopped, leaving him nearly unconscious.
Stratton turned down the volume on the hidden speaker that repeated the whispered activation phrase, and dimmed the lit picture set on the wall in front of the chair.
Originally, other people had been in the room with Stratton, when he was beating Tony, before they caught E.J., and before he started the reprogramming. Now, during the hellish sessions, he rarely ever saw anyone's face except for Stratton's or the images of Jarvis they put in the background.
They only came in to move him, or dress and undress him as per Stratton's needs.
Tony barely responded to Stratton coming near him again.
He moaned softly.
"It's time for a little check," Stratton said, releasing him from the chair.
He started to fall forward, but Stratton pushed him up, his head dropping back over the chair.
Some moments later, Tony began to come to.
In his drug-induced haze, he saw someone standing next to him in the room.
He painfully moved his body to stand, stumbling away from the figure.
There was a gun, sitting, just within reach on the floor and he almost fell as he leaned down, picking it up instinctively and pulling the safety off to protect himself.
The man looked familiar...he had a medium build and glasses...sandy hair.
"Who..." Tony's voice came out as a rasp,"who are you?"
"No one you know," the young man replied, almost spitting out the word," traitor."
Tony was confused. He held the gun at his side with both hands, unsure of what he was doing.
Suddenly the hatch opened. Latham stepped in.
Tony brought the gun up, aiming it at him.
Latham raised his arms, smiling,"Easy, Tony. I'm not the one who did this to you."
Tony was having trouble focusing. They all had halos around them...things were distorted. He hurt everywhere.
He noticed the walls were moving...
"You know who brought you into this...it's his fault. He hurt you. He is going to hurt you again."
Tony shook his head, trembling, "No."
Latham used the words.
"Silver seabird," and he watched with sick joy, as Tony gasped and raised the weapon high and pointed it at the other man, the one who looked like Clayton Jarvis.
In his mind, the two faces, of Stratton and Jarvis, had suddenly become connected.
"He's coming with the knife...again. He's going to hurt you," Latham taunted.
"No!" Tony yelled it, hands shaking.
"He's going to cut you. And make you bleed. He may kill you this time."
"No," Tony choked it out more softly, and pulled the trigger.
There were no bullets.
Latham smiled and dismissed the other man, while Tony dropped the gun, and collapsed on the floor.
The speaker was turned on again. The cacophony of whispers returned.
Stratton came back in.
Tony had his hands to his face, quietly weeping.
"So?"
"He's almost ready…but almost doesn't cut it. It has to be complete. He still needs too much…convincing. Continue the regular protocols. I want a final resolution on this project in one week, Stratton. One way or another."
"Yes sir, my pleasure," Stratton said, smiling down at Tony, curled up on he floor.
"And Stratton, good work."
(end flashback)