Whumpay 2022 Day Five: "When's the last time you ate?"

Warnings for mentions of torture and broken bones.

Warder Meyer sat back and let loose a noisy breath. That had been too close for comfort, and his backer would not be pleased at all. He'd made it very clear that this was Meyer's last chance. He moped his brow again and hit the buzzer on the desk. His secretary came in.

'Wake him and bring him here. Immediately.'

The man bowed and left, and he wiped his face again. He reached for the phone and dialled with a shaky hand.

'Code.'

'Hazard.'

'Report.'

'We had a visit from Lady Penelope Cr…'

'Transferring you now.'

Damn. He'd have to talk to the man. He held the line while his table was cleared and his lunch was laid out. Covering the mouthpiece, he ordered a chair to be brought in.

'Speak, Meyer.'

'We had a visit.'

'So I understand. What did she see?'

'Everything, but I had him hidden.'

'Did she interact with any prisoners?'

'Ye-es, she had to.'

'Then your mission is blown. Prepare him for transport.'

'As you say, Agent 79.'

'He is most displeased, Meyer.'

'Yes, sir.'

'He will be with you in 20 minutes.'

The man hung up on him and the warder groaned. He'd pay for this dearly.

Well, there was nothing else to do but eat and prepare. He was just tucking his napkin into his neck when the door opened.

A sharp scratch woke Scott, and he coughed. He'd always hated that horrible bitter taste and dryness drugs gave him. Before he was fully conscious he was being dragged up and out, being marched through the prison by two guards.

He was hustled into the Warder's office and pushed down into the waiting chair. Cuffs were attached over his wrists and ankles and then the guards left.

Meyer regarded the man who was to be his downfall.

Thin, skeletal practically, dirty and scarred. Dull blue eyes still blinking away the dregs of sedation. As he watched the smell of the food must have hit Scott as he suddenly turned pale and began to retch, spitting out a mouthful of yellow bile.

Yet the man's spirit didn't seem to be broken as he sat there. Meyer cleared his throat and took a gulp of wine to hide his discomfort.

'Are you hungry, Scott?'

He gestured to what must surely seem a feast compared to the meals he knew the prison served.

The steak he had was huge, covering at least half the plate. Rare, just like he preferred. Buttered new potatoes and a mound of green veg accompanied it. There were some small rolls on one side and a jug of béarnaise sauce.

Meyer pretended not to watch as he sliced a thick piece of steak and popped it in his mouth. Then some vegetables. He spoke as he ate, spitting bits of food over the table.

'When was the last time you ate, Scott? Hmm?'

Scott stared at him. He didn't have a clue when he'd last had a decent meal, but he knew that in the infirmary he'd been slowly reintroduced to the slop they called food here, but he'd not eaten at all while he was in the Tank, and he had no idea how long that was.

'Do you want my steak? Huh, Scott?'

Scott just continued to stare at Meyer. The man removed the napkin and wiped his mouth.

'I'll do you a deal. You tell me how to override Thunderbird One's security, and I'll let you finish this.'

Scott said nothing.

'Really? Not even a little information?'

Nothing.

'You know, you really have been the most inconsiderate prisoner. Do you know what the plan was?'

Nothing.

'I was to keep you hidden, soften you up with time in the Tank, a beating here or there. Until you were ready to break.'

He ate another mouthful, looking speculatively at Scott.

'The General is most displeased his plan has not gone well. He's on his way here personally to collect you. I had hoped to have something to give him.'

Nothing.

'I refuse to hand you over without something to show for my troubles.'

Meyer gestured to the two guards behind Scott and they moved forward. He took a sip of wine.

'Talk and save yourself some pain, or don't. Either way will make me happy.'

Scott remained silent, and Meyer shrugged.

He took a mouthful of steak as the man on Scott's left wrenched back a finger.

He ate greens as Scott screamed and more fingers were broken.

He drunk while the man on the right started.

By the time his lunch was finished all of Scott's fingers were broken, and while the man had screamed, Meyer was secretly impressed that he hadn't begged for it all to stop. He looked at his watch. 20 minutes since the phone call. He motioned to the men and they fell back.

He was out of time. The phone rang and he answered it, never taking his eyes off Scott, even as the man stared defiantly back.

'Nein, er hat nichts gesagt. Jawohl.'

Hanging up, he sighed, stood up and brushed himself down. As he left he placed a hand on Scott's damaged shoulder and squeezed, bending down to whisper in his ear before leaving.

'Too late, Scott. For both of us.'

Scott tried really hard not to react, but this was new. He may not remember much about where he had been before here, but this felt almost desperate.

For the first time in a very long time hope stirred within him.

Had they found him?

Were they finally coming for him?