Death XVI: Torture
Jean Havoc never went to war.
It was true that he had been one of the best men in his academy class. A marksmanship, infantry, intelligence…he had lots of strengths. That was probably why he was put on Colonel Mustangs' team, but unlike many of his coworkers, he had been too young to enter military during Ishbal and had grown up in the Southern side of Amestris knowing nothing of the gruesome horrors that were presented to a person during battle. Aside from a few murder investigations the lieutenant hardly came in contact with any kind of cruel and unusual fate that happened to befall people.
Despite that, Jean Havoc had always thought he could handle the sight of a dead, mangled body if the need should ever arise. After all he was a soldier.
He was wrong.
Perhaps it was because he had known the kid. He had teased, and worked beside him, had saved and been saved by him, had been a constant male figure throughout the young boys awkward years. It's funny how things feel so much more real, more human, when you can remember clearly eating lunch beside the victim just the other day.
It hurts just so much more.
Jean had not been prepared for the sight that met him when he broke down that cellar down and rushed into the dark room. He had been expecting to see Edward there, perhaps tied up and beaten, or sitting atop a pile of unconscious kidnappers, that customary smirk upon his face, demanding why they were so late, he was getting bored.
But they had indeed been too late.
When they arrived the terrorist were all but gone, caught at the end of their escape route by a horde of Mps. Havoc was the first to see it, the body dangling from the ceiling, attached to a chandelier that only increased the fluid motion of the large chain that held it. There was a meat hook embedded deep within the boys left shoulder. His auto mail was missing and there were small cuts, bruises and burns littering his much too pale skin. The long golden hair was loose, covering his face and plastered with dried blood and soot. Tentatively, frightened but knowing he had no choice, he soldier gently lifted the boys chin to look towards him and he bit his lip turning away instantly in disgust and remorse.
The boys eyes…they were gone…completely severed from their sockets.
It was too painful to see that disfigured face and impose it upon the image of and strong boy with some much life left to live.
Most of the crew was busy attempting to pry the Colonel off of the head terrorist as he continue without stopping to pound on him, all the while screaming incoherencies. Lieutenant Hawkeye was in complete tears, which they surprisingly did not commented on… she had considered the boy a son of her own after all. One of two new company members a private named Altoire was comforting her, while the other a Captain from the east-southern region codenamed Mutt, helped Havoc get Edward down.
Jean Havoc glanced around at the fellow members of crew, and thought…
We are the ones who suffered the real torture.