Edutainer asks for Whumpay Mini Challenge 1, prompt 6: False Execution

WARNING: MCD by execution.

Scott lost time.

Lots of time.

Without natural light waxing and waning he quickly lost track of time. That and the inconsistent torture which ultimately resulted in loss of time as every session ended with him being unconscious.

But it was a long time.

The man in charge kept alternating between asking about a secret file, a secret mission that he and the two other planes were involved in and requesting knowledge of his base. Scott certainly wasn't going to disclose anything about their base of operations to these people,

and he knew nothing about any secret mission.

All he had been told – all that he *knew* – was that he had been flying the usual escort mission to clear the way for and then protect an aid flight to just inside the border and back. *Scott* may not have landed, but the aid plane had, and in his darkest moments Scott wondered what this escort mission had really been about. Not that it actually mattered. His captors were convinced he knew and nothing Scott said would make any difference to that belief.

The table in that room had become a fixture of his life. As had the bucket, hose and cloth rag. They felt like very old friends…Scott shuddered. The routine varied so he could never be sure when he was going to be suddenly hauled out of his cell and across the grounds.

The guards had become more…inventive too. Now he couldn't predict what would happen when he was marched – or dragged – to the interrogation room. Water. Electricity. Knives. They were only the main three used. There were beatings, of course. Deprivation of sound was tried but that hadn't really affected him much. He knew of others who had been strung up from their arms with only their toes touching the floor for hours at end but that hadn't happened to him. Yet.

The one thing that hadn't been repeated was the video. Videos, actually.

Sending threatening videos to the American Embassy was a common practice when at war – something that had happened during every war over the last 100 years. Scott himself hadn't seen one from this civil war, but he knew that there had been a few shown to the top brass.

He had no doubt that his own had been shown. The thought that his friends might have seen it filled him with dread, but it was the private video that had been sent to his Dad that gave him nightmares.

The officer in charge didn't always sit in on his 'sessions' but he could guarantee that the times he did they would be longer and more demanding.

Scott was dozing when the door burst open. He couldn't control the flinch but for once the guards didn't react to it, didn't jeer or jostle him at all. The unusual behaviour made Scott's heart sink. Two guards stayed at the door while one threw his flight suit at him and they stood over him as he slowly changed. No boots though, they kept him in his bare feet.

It was all business as they dragged him through the building. The usual soldiers in the square or lounging in the halls were missing. Instead the place seemed deserted. Not that Scott could be sure with the speed they were hauling him.

His slight interest on where everyone was quickly developed into a heavy feeling in his gut, which was only made worse by the path they were taking.

They were not going to the interrogation room.

They were not even going into the building.

He was marched through the complex to what could only be what Scott would call the parade square. Everyone was here, lines and lines of soldiers standing to attention. That heaving feeling in his gut turned to molten metal. It churned as he was dragged out and onto the small platform that had obviously just been set up.

The commander was standing out at the front, the other men, ones that Scott had not met but knew must be present considering the number of men in the base. They did not look happy at all, but they all stood to attention.

But all that Scott had eyes for was the video camera that had been set up.

The guards melted away into the ranks until there were only two men left. They brought him to the front of the platform and forced him to his knees in front of everyone and the camera. One guard kept him down – not that difficult considering everything that he had been through – while the other bound his hands in front of him with parachute cord before they both backed away and returned to the throng of men.

Scott stayed as still as he could, which wasn't easy in the dry heat of Bereznik in high summer at noon. He wished for his boots, they would at least have given him balance as he knelt.

The commander started addressing the men. Scott's grasp of Bereznikian wasn't a great as he would have liked, but it was enough for him to understand what the man was saying. That and the knowledge of what was about to happen.

He couldn't stop…what he knew was about to happen. Scott could only pray that this wasn't a live feed. That his Dad would see and stop any of his brothers from seeing…

All thought stopped as a gun was pressed against the back of his skull, and he took a sharp breath in. He stared straight ahead.

The world stopped.

There was no sound. Even the birds were silent.

And then there was.

The gunshot echoed around the square.

Followed by the thud of a body collapsing on the ground.

John screaming for him tore Jeff from his sleep.

He skidded into his second-eldest's room in time to see the news replay the video.

His knees gave way.

The next thing he knew was John and Virgil standing over him, tear tracks clear on their faces.

'Dad?'

'I'm ok. I'm ok. You-you saw?'

'Yeah.'

'I don't believe it.'

'Virgil – '

'NO! I can still feel him. I don't believe it and I won't believe it until I see' swallow 'until I see Scott's body.'

'Son – '

'Please, Dad. Call Kyrano and ask him. Please. The USAF can't and won't help us now.'

'What do you think, John?'

'I – I think Virgil's right. Better to be sure, isn't it?'

'Ok. Ok. Help me up and we'll call him together before your brothers get up.'