This chapter was a little rushed let me know what you think.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been locked up. There were no windows in his cell, no clocks to track time with. No food had come through the door as of yet either. At a guess, he'd say he'd been locked up 1 and a half, maybe 2 days.

The cell door opened and a familiar woman entered carrying a bottle of water. John's eyes darkened at the sight of her. She looked different, her eyes were now dull and she looked old, older than she should.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" She looked at John, her eyes tired.

"Get up." He paused, watching her cautiously, suddenly unsure whether going with her was in his best interest.

"John." She warned. John knew he didn't have a choice, she could call a guard in if he refused. As he got off the bed, a wave of nausea swept over him. He used the wall to steady himself, bringing his other hand to an aching spot on his temple.

Sam turned to the door, knocking it twice. "Open up." She turned back to John, scanning over the bruises on his face and arms, knowing the worst ones would be covered up. "We're not going far, think you can walk it?"

John nodded. They exited the cell turning down the long corridor, closely followed by two guards. John knew they were in the centre of the building, six storeys up. The Restricted Section. On a good day, it would be difficult to escape the building from this point. While injured, it would be damn near impossible. His body was crying out with pain with each step, but John ignored it, trying to walk as normally as possible and maintaining a steady poker face. He would not look weak in front of them.

After a few minutes they reached a door, through its window he could see it lead to a small laboratory.

"This is where I leave you." Sam stated blankly, turning away from him to stare back down the corridor. He tried to remember what he'd done to piss Sam off. A guard pushed John through the door and into a dentist's chair. Instinct kicked in causing John to fight, he kicked out at the guard but his previous injuries slowed him down. The guard avoided easily, overpowering John, cuffing his arms to the frame of the chair.

"John, welcome back." The man who spoke was sitting to the side of the chair. He wore an expensive suit and held a Cuban cigar in his hand. John had never seen this man before, but he got the feeling the man knew a lot about him. "From what I hear, your time away from Ultra has been," he paused searching for the right word, "eventful." His mouth twisted into a mocking smile. John remained silent, refusing to acknowledge the man's presence.

"There are a number of ways we can proceed. The simplest and most painless way is for you to tell me what I want to know." He paused, waiting for any response from the boy in front of him. John still didn't respond, refusing to even let himself look at the man. "What's the matter, John? Don't feel like talking about it?" John cocked his eyebrow defiantly, challenging the man before him.

"You will tell me, John. I can be very persuasive. So where are the tomorrow people hiding?" John prepared himself to be read, filling his head with a strong emotion. Anger. Anger about being locked up at Ultra. Anger about them experimenting on him, turning him into a killer. Anger that they made him kill Roger, a man who continually believed in him and tried to help him.

Fortunately, the man did not try to invade John's mind. A moment later, John felt tingling in his hands. The sensation was replaced by burning that quickly spread through his arms and into his torso. He thrashed against his restraints unable to still his body. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He felt that the blood coursing through his veins was boiling, bubbling in side of him. He tried to keep quiet, tried not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream but failed miserably after only seconds. The pain intensified, John couldn't breathe, struggling against himself he let out another painful scream, causing his voice to crack.

The pain took over his senses. His vision was blurred, all noise was muffed in the background, as John fell into unconsciousness.

"STOP" Jedikiah rushed into the room. "Who authorised this?" He looked round the room accusingly.

"I did." The man in the suit replied. "I know that boy, he only learns things if they are beaten into him. If we are going to extract information from him, he needs to know what I can do." Jedikiah stared at the man.

"Take him back to his room." He said the guards. "You know as well as I do that John will never willingly give betray the rebels. This exercise was pointless. You just wanted to show him who was in control. Next time you want to see him, Smythe, you tell me first. This session was not authorised." He told the man, composing himself before following the guards to John's room.

"I don't need your permission, Price." He heard the man, Smythe, call after him.

TTP

John woke up as the guards were dragging him back to his room. Sam was following them. They roughly placed him on his bed, leaving him without a second glance. As Sam turned to leave, he finally blurted out what had been on his mind since he first saw her, "Why are you mad at me Sam?"

Her hand hovered over the door handle for a split second before she turned back to him. She looked at him with wonder, contemplating the best way to tell him. "Things changed after you left John. You changed everything." Her eyes were fixed on him, she radiated anger.

"They took 13 children of our kind and turned them into soldiers. Killian left and turned against Ultra, betraying everything we were taught. Then you left. Jedikiah thought we were becoming a liability, that we were likely to turn against him. He got it in his head that Roger had turned us against the company before he left. He subjected every one of us to a telepath. She searched our heads looking for signs that we were traitors. If the telepath detected anything, you were executed."

John was speechless, his face paled as she was talking and his eyes darkened, filling with dread. It was difficult to take in, many of the people he had grown up with could be dead.

"Who's left?" His hands trembled as he asked the question and he refused to look her in the eye.

"Only me and Alex passed the test." Sam stated, she was pleased with the reaction from John, who was clearly in shock. She had had to live through the executions, watching her friends die, remembering the horrors for the past 5 years. Letting John know it was his fault made her feel much better.

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