Instead of going down the residential hallway, they took him to the right, through the first door on the left. Inside was a dark wooden receptionist's desk where a young blond woman sat. Along the walls were mauve chairs. It looked like a hospital waiting room. Alarm hit him and he almost whirled around to get out, but doubted he could get through the wall of guards.
"Good evening," said the receptionist. "How may I help you?"
One of the guards nudged him with his elbow and he trudged up to the counter, not knowing how to reply.
"Initial physical," said the guard beside him.
"Ah, yes, Jason Whittaker. We've been expecting you." She smiled. "Please have a seat, and the doctor will be with you shortly."
His mind tilted with how surreal this was. The feeling increased when the guards left, leaving him alone with the receptionist. She kept working on the computer, her fingernails clicking on the keys. It was eerily silent otherwise and what would have been a bustling waiting room on the outside was empty of patients. It gave him a building claustrophobia. His mind was beginning to fuzz out when the doctor appeared in the doorway. He wore a white lab coat and a name label that said, "Dr. Miller."
The doctor gestured to him. "Come in, come in."
"What's this for?"
"Just make sure you're healthy."
Jason hoped there wasn't some other agenda under the surface. But it seemed innocuous enough, so he followed the doctor down the hall. A nurse walked down the hall toward them, and another stepped out of a room as they approached. They turned to the left several doors down. It looked like a typical clinic room, complete with charts on the wall, including a pain chart with smiley faces.
"Please, have a seat," said the doctor. He was seemed easygoing and amiable, and it made Jason wonder if he even knew what went on here.
Jason sat down on the paper-covered bed and the doctor looked into his ears, eyes, and mouth. "Hm, looks good," he muttered with each section of the examination. The doctor also took a look at his broken nose and said it was healing nicely, as well as the rest of the injuries on his face and the cut on his thumb. Then he told Jason to take off his shirt.
"I'd rather not."
"I need to check your more serious injuries." Miller looked at him sternly over the top of his glasses and so Jason sighed and obeyed. It still hurt to take off his shirt, but thankfully not as badly with the loose green material. The doctor checked his shoulder and gunshot wound in his side.
"The shoulder's looking a little inflamed. I'll prescribe an antibiotic along with a painkiller."
"I don't need it."
The doctor peered at him again over his glasses. "Yes, you do."
Next, he listened to Jason's heart and the stethoscope was cold on his skin. "Hm. You have a slightly elevated heart rate."
"No kidding."
"Please, try to relax. We don't intend to hurt you."
"That's what you do here."
The doctor smiled. "I'm here to patch you up."
"You're complicit."
"Perhaps. But I'm doing a lot of good. This place—it has marvelous scientific potential."
Anger burned in him. "You experiment on people." What they'd done to the man Sahara loved—
"It's for the greater good."
"I've heard that before." Disgusted, Jason wished he could get out of this man's presence. The doctor was supposed to do no harm, but being here was harm.
"I don't expect you to agree with me. It can be a hard life…but it can be wonderful if you don't resist."
"I'm resisting till my last breath."
"Then you'll be in here a lot more often. For your health, I'd advise cooperating. It's been a pleasure meeting you, but I'd prefer to see you as little as possible." He smiled. "But if you insist on resisting, I'll make sure you are as good as new in no time." He patted Jason's arm in a comradely way.
Jason pulled his arm away and Miller looked at him disapprovingly. He took Jason's blood pressure and then readied some things over on the counter on some cabinets. Scribbled something on his clipboard. He came back with a needle.
"No way," said Jason.
"It's just a blood test. We need to make sure you're well in all aspects."
"I'm not giving you my blood."
"Do I have to call the guards, or can we do this in a civilized manner?"
Horror ran through Jason at how trapped he was. He could resist at this point…. But if he considered his overall mission, relatively minor things didn't matter. What harm could they possibly do with his blood?
Reluctantly, Jason agreed, fully aware he had no choice.
Afterwards, Miller gave him a bar of chocolate. He took a nibble of it—it was very good, creamy and rich and dark. And he hated himself for giving in.
"Now," said the doctor, rubbing his hands, "Next time we'll be more thorough. We'll see what your active heart rate is. Fun stuff like that. Don't worry, the tests won't be too strenuous. We'll also be asking you to donate a few other bodily fluids." He smiled.
Jason was glad to get out of there. As he stepped into the clinic hallway, a nurse was wheeling a patient out on a gurney. The patient looked familiar—it was Ali.
Jason intended to keep walking but Ali waved at him and begged the nurse to stop.
"Jason! You made it!"
Jason didn't move from his position along the wall. "Not like I had a choice."
"From what I hear, you did have a choice. Wow! It's so good to see you!"
"I wish I could say the same."
His hand whapped down over his heart. "You wound me, Jason. Hey, could I have some chocolate?" He gestured to the chocolate bar in Jason's hand.
"No."
"Please? Just a piece?"
The nurse tapped his hand. "No, you've got to go to surgery, remember?"
He pouted.
She looked at Jason. "Forgive him, he's pretty woozy right now. Got to get that last bullet out."
"I'm stable enough now," said Ali proudly.
"Was touch and go for a minute there," said the nurse. "We thought we might lose him."
Jason almost said, good, because that was the mood he was in. But he didn't mean it. Even Ali… he didn't really want dead.
"Well, good luck on the surgery," said Jason.
Ali waved and the nurse rolled him down the hall in the opposite direction.
Jason's heart raced as he stepped back through the door into the waiting room. His head spun.
The panic was creeping up like tendrils of vines, choking out his air. He sat in one of the chairs to recover.
Breathe.
He realized losing some blood might be part of it…. Seemed like they took more blood than usual….
He gnawed on the half-melted chocolate bar, and it brought him back to life. Sort of.
Before he could fully recover, the receptionist called to him and said, "Please report to the debriefing room."
Jason didn't like the sound of that. But going would give him more information. He forced himself to his feet, feeling a little shaky, and shuffled down the hallway, dread filling him with each step.
Get ahold of yourself, Jason. You need to keep your mind sharp. Look for intel. Find a way to escape. Don't tell them anything they don't already know.
He opened the door to see a round room with scenes splashed on the walls—a mountain, a forest, a grand waterfall. In the center were two chartreuse couches with a glass table between them, etched with roses. A woman with sandy blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and a tanned, freckled face sat cross-legged on the couch. She smiled as Jason entered and waved.
"Hi, Jason! I'm Lila."
Another figure peeled away from the bookcase along the wall.
Kell.
The torturer stalked closer, sloshing the dark wine in his glass. He stopped behind the empty couch, laying his hand on it.
"Sit wherever you like," said Lila. "Don't mind him. Debriefing isn't his preferred milieu."
"Then why's he here at all?"
"He's assigned to your case. We both are. You're exclusively assigned to us, so we have a complete picture of you, all of the nuances. I for one am excited to start working with you."
"He'll never be one of us," said Kell. "He's just not Admin material."
She raised an admonishing finger. "Elena is never wrong."
"No one's always right," said Jason.
"Maybe not, but Elena's right when it comes to her operations, especially human resources. You may be a little rough around the edges—"
"You can say that again," said Kell.
"But we'll have you polished in no time."
"I won't cooperate."
"That just shows your strength. No matter how much you're beaten down, you pop back up again. In fact, the more obstinate, the more promise you show. What an agent you'll be!"
"You won't brainwash me in a million years."
"If one method doesn't work, we'll always adapt." She patted the couch next to her. "Please, sit."
Jason ignored her invitation.
Lila stood and leaned against the back of the couch. "This is just a preliminary, getting to know you, a friendly chat. This is always what it'll be like—unless you resist."
Lila asked several questions, most of them about his time back in Odyssey. Trying to get at 'gaps in our knowledge.' Jason didn't want to accommodate them, so he stayed silent. Kell hovered in the back of the room, sipping his wine.
"I'd like to know how you got into the agent business," said Lila. "What led you there. Was it your father?"
They'd struck close to the mark. But Jason wasn't going to acknowledge it.
"Come on, Jason, give me something."
"I can do this all night."
"I know you'll get bored, Jason. You're like me. You need mental stimulation. In fact—after we're done here, why don't we go shoot some hoops?"
"We're not comrades. I'm not playing with any of you."
"Suit yourself. But if you'd ever like some company, I'm here for you. I think we have a lot in common."
"We have nothing in common."
"Oh, no? I became an agent right out of college. I was bad at sports till middle school then hit my stride. I just had to have my older sister believing in me. I fell in love with a fellow agent, but it didn't work out. I'm fun-loving, a bit reckless, unflinchingly loyal, a good kisser."
"You know all about me. What is this—façade."
"You like games, too, don't you? Maybe we need a nice diversion every once in a while."
"So this is for your benefit?"
"I just wanted to know if you'd cooperate. But it looks like you're a bit too stubborn." She winked. "There's a reason we were paired together. We're so alike we could've been twins."
"That sounds a bit too manufactured to me."
"Cross my heart! Besides, agents share a type. All the good ones. We're a bit too addicted to adrenaline. That's why they'd never hold me down in one place. Some people, like Kell here, live almost exclusively Inside. I couldn't stand that. But then, he enjoys his work, so he has enough diversion here."
"That's a nice segue," said Kell.
Lila swung her head, her ponytail jouncing. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not just here to observe."
"We're just getting started! Besides, you are basically here to observe. We want to treat him as one of us until we exhaust all psychological options—keep from harming him physically or breaking his mind. You've had some problems in the past, going too far."
"He's not going to turn using gentle methods."
"I don't know, maybe he'll see reason. He's smart enough to finally come around."
"What he needs is to be broken. I don't see why we tiptoe around the issue when we could go straight to the heart of it. Why waste time. We need to see what he's made of, once and for all."
"Elena already knows what he's made of. We have to tread delicately—"
"He's not on our side; he's clearly resisting us and will continue. He had significant pressure on the Outside, but it wasn't really enough. This place is the ultimate place for pressure, to turn a man into a diamond or break him into dust. I don't see why Elena's being so careful with him."
"He is Admin material."
"I'm not so sure about that. Besides, the higher the Admins are, the harder they are to break, if they're not on our side to begin with. It'll take a lot for him to change his mind."
"He won't change his mind if we try to hurt him. Best is to carefully bring him around—"
"We won't be sure who's side he's on. And we won't be sure he is totally Admin material. He might just be fit to be a guard, or perhaps merely a slave. I have my doubts."
"Elena believes in him."
"Elena has been wrong before. I think she needs to look a little further. One, perhaps two steps better than this one. You do remember how sure she was with Elliot?"
"Yes, but… I saw he didn't have the potential."
"And I see the same in this one; I have a clearer view than you. You don't see the cracks in the raw material. The more I see him, the more I'm convinced. Elena may excel at her job, but she is sometimes blinded in personal matters. Dazzled by him, for whatever reason. If she wasn't who she is, I'd say she was too obsessed to not be compromised. But she's able to compartmentalize. If we're not careful, though, he could be a weakness. Especially if he were embedded in our organization without being absolutely sure he was adamantine. In such a high position—we have to be sure."
"We can't just—jump to your method."
"Why not? It's wasting time this way."
"It's not how Elena wants it."
"She gives me significant leeway. She wants him—I'll give him to her."
"I'm supposed to be involved."
"You will be. But on the other side. Building him up. He's got to be torn down first. Stripped to the bare essentials of a man."
"Then…we'd better take him to the basement. We don't want blood on the couch."
"Breaking doesn't have to mean blood. Besides, we can start a little more mildly. See what he's made of—if he'll actually break easily."
"I'd better advise Elena of this."
"Go ahead."
"I'm supposed to stay here."
Kell swilled the last drop of wine from his glass and set it on the coffee table. He strode over to Jason.
Jason's heart slammed against his chest. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this… in denial, maybe. But considering where he was, could he expect gentle treatment? If he continued to resist them?
What did I think they would do? Just let me keep living my relatively comfortable life downstairs? While all other slaves get… crushed….
If I'm Elena's…special project, probably means she'll be harder on me, not easier.
Although it does sound like this is Kell's idea—
Kell drew a knife from his belt.
"You said no blood," said Lila indignantly.
"It can always get cleaned up."
"Elena won't like it."
"Something so insignificant is acceptable collateral." Kell pointed with the knife to the couch. "Now, Jason. Please sit."
"Why would I do that?" Chills chased through him, wave up on wave of them.
Here I am, proving him right already. So deeply affected by this….
I can put up a brave face but when actually confronted with torture –
I did prevail with Karl. But I wasn't so wholly in their power.
Panic gripped him, making reality tilt and waver, its edges a sickly yellow, the center a washed-out blue.
Kell laughed, the sound ringing harshly against his skull. It was a knowing laugh, slicing deep into his heart.
"Get over here. Now."
Jason shook his head. Tears threatened. He couldn't move even if he'd have wanted to. If he moved at all, he feared he would collapse.
His chest was filled with cotton. He couldn't breathe. He took fast, shallow breaths, trying not to gasp for air, trying to maintain at least an image of calm. Even if he knew it was futile.
Not let them win. As much as possible. Even though it means just holding onto a few shreds of humanity. I have to let that be a triumph…maybe all I can get in this place. Not let it be a defeat, even if I'm drowning in darkness….
A few swift footsteps. A hand grabbed the back of his neck, the knife point pressed beneath his chin. He was forced forward; he had to move. Couldn't even collapse, or he'd be killed. Which would be worse… his mind swam, unable to latch onto anything specific.
Lila's face, vague form, floating somewhere across from him… concern emanating from her… or was that a delusion….
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Kell tapped the flat of the blade against Jason's thigh.
Jason sat back against the leather couch, breathing hard, relieved in spite of himself. He didn't know how much longer he could have stayed standing.
And nothing's even happened yet. What a coward you are. No PTSD can make you this weak.
"Interesting how much it's affecting him already, isn't it?" said Kell. "Why don't we make a bet. I'll bet you a slave that he shatters."
"You're on," said Lila. "I believe in him. You can do this, Jason."
Kell stood. "Let's get you into a more…conducive position. Please, take off your shirt."
Ice sleeted down Jason's spine.
The world threatened to fade.
How can I feel so terrified when they've done nothing yet… how can I be this weak.
Dear God, please give me the strength… I can't on my own.
God is my strength… and yet… I hate feeling so—powerless. How can I resist like this… how can I possibly hope to keep resisting for hours, days… weeks…
I'll be too broken to escape.
A sliver of his mind admonished, don't think that word.
No! I can think it all I want. I won't let them control me.
Strength twined back into his system, a few steel wires binding to his veins. Just enough.
The mist dissipated. Stunning him with incisive clarity.
Lila's blue-green eyes, brow knitted with concern. Kell standing over him. Knife gleaming with light as if already dripping blood.
"I'm not going to do anything you say, so you might as well get on with it," said Jason, hoping they didn't catch the slight tremble in his voice.
Lila's eyes flickered as she sent an 'I-told-you-so' glance to Kell.
Kell sat back down beside Jason. He slid the knife to the base of Jason's silk green shirt.
Jason struggled to get up, but Kell stabbed the knife upwards and grazed his jaw. The cut stung.
Anger burned through Jason, at Kell, and at himself, for being unable to act. He could wrest the knife away if he could think quickly enough… but his body was still sluggish, and everything was in slow motion.
I've got to keep this anger. Maybe it'll give me the energy to break free. Just…watch for the right moment. Before it's too late.
The knife tip was cold against his stomach before it flipped and sliced through the light material. Then, Kell tugged it off of Jason's shoulders.
He shivered, hating the fact his scars were exposed again. Kell looked at him critically. "You see? Nothing too impressive."
"I don't know," said Lila. "He's got some nice overall structure. It can always be built up more of course. But it's got great potential. And as for the scarring…. Just shows how much he's been able to bear. According to his file, he's never broken."
"He came close, though." The knife tip pressed into the scar beneath his heart. "If he hadn't been shot, Gray would have broken him."
How much do they know? Did Gray tell them? He's here, isn't he…. They took him. Did they have to torture it out of him, or...did he tell them willingly…
"There's no way to know that," said Lila.
"I'm better at this than Gray. Better even than he used to be, but since he was broken…I'm not sure about his potential, either. A mere guard, perhaps." The flat of the knife slid over Jason's chest, caressing his scars. He tried not to flinch, but several times, a reaction was wrung from his body.
Shame filled him but didn't override the anger.
Such evil—it cannot prevail.
I will be Samson if I have to. Broken, beaten down… but my strength will tear down these walls into rubble.
You'd have enough strength to do that? an inner voice sneered.
Samson didn't get his strength from himself, either.
The knife teased the scar on Jason's face. Anger ripped away the shame.
He seized Kell's wrist with both hands, wrenched it away from him. Rammed his arm backwards, making him drop the knife. Slammed a fist into that hateful face.
Kell fell backwards with a burst of blood. Jason dove for the knife, grabbed it. But a boot kicked it out of his hand. Lila looked at him with disapproval, lips pursed.
Instead of going for the knife in the iffy area between the couches, Jason backed away and dashed to the door.
Shoved it.
Its smooth surface stayed placid, immovable.
His heart plummeted.
Another sort of weapon—any advantage—
The sleek dark cabinet in the back. The wine bottle winked at him.
He raced for it, grabbed its neck. "Don't come near me." He grabbed the bottle opener, the twisting metal spike pointed at them.
Lila's eyes danced with amusement.
Kell growled and snatched up the knife. Slid it into his belt. Drew out another weapon—a shockrod. Then, he took out a zip tie. "Kneel."
"No."
"Kneel or I will make you. I know you've felt the bite of these tools."
He dodged Kell's first attack, thanks to the fencing lessons in college, and then whipped around and slammed the bottle onto Kell's head—
Except he ducked, swerving expertly, and a glancing blow of the rod caught Jason's thigh.
Pain ripped through him, his leg buckling, but he managed to stay standing. He stabbed the bottle opener toward Kell, slicing through his sleeve, drawing blood. Then he slammed a kick toward Kell, but a shockwave caught his bruised knee
He staggered but couldn't manage to stay upright. He toppled awkwardly to his knees, catching himself with his palms
A kick rammed into his stomach, then a harder, more sustained shock, biting into his chest
He gasped, but couldn't draw enough of a breath to scream—
"Stop!" called a voice.
Outside of himself, somewhere beyond the pain
"That's enough," said Lila, in the haze above him, a hand on her hip.
Strong arms flipped him over and slid a cool strip against his wrists. Then pulled it tight. Wrenching his shoulder up to the point of pain.
Remnants of shocks still bit into him, but he was glad that the zip ties were plastic, so if Kell shocked him again, it wouldn't damage him too badly….
A boot kicked him back over and Kell grasped his ankle and dragged him back over to the couch. "Could you give me a hand here?" said Kell.
Lila laughed. "I'm here to observe, remember?"
Jason was glad for an ally, if only a few words from an enemy.
Kell laid him on his back between the couches. His tied wrists were a knot against the small of his back, forcing him to lie awkwardly, shoulders pressing into the floor.
Despite the pain, anger still twined through him. I shouldn't be here. I should be at home…with my wife—
I have to get out.
Somehow.
And they have to pay for what they've done. Not to me so much as to Elliot, Sahara, Kara, Tim, Alelu…
Their names fortified him as the torturer knelt between his legs.
Unbuttoned Jason's pants.
Shock ripped through him.
No way.
I will fight to the death. I promised that at least.
He writhed away, kicked Kell in the stomach. Jason scrambled onto his knees but before he could wrench himself to his feet, a stunning blow hit the back of his head.
He lay sideways. The blank white wall across from him. Carpet digging into his cheek.
Rope yanked around his ankles, drawing them tightly. The knife sliced through his pants.
There's something I have to do…. Some reason I have to fight…. His mind crawled toward purpose, but it was just out of reach…. So close he could taste it—
Soft kisses on his lips
Delight dancing in his soul.
A soft caress on his chest as the sun glazed down, gilding her cheek with gold—copper tinsel in her hair
He reached out to touch it—
Just cold, empty air
Yet—
Something to hold onto. I have to stay with her, no matter what. Even if it means—
Cutting myself off from her.
But—what can I do?
Awareness filtered back through him, pain slamming into his head with violent shards. A warm wetness against the back of his skull, pooling in his hair. Throbbing pain in his chest—he felt his heart might be short-circuiting.
Well, that would solve one problem…
His limbs bound tightly together.
Sticking together with sweat.
Cold against his skin—his chest and his legs exposed. Just a small piece of cloth left.
Lila's eyes, not unsympathetic.
Kell's—predatory, flickering over him as if trying to see what to start with. "We're here to get to the heart of the matter, aren't we? I don't see why we shouldn't do what will most likely break him now."
"Elena said—"
"There are several different angles of the same theme she didn't mention."
"I don't know—"
"We've got to do what's best for Elena. That's making sure he's the one, or finding if we have to go searching for another."
He knelt beside Jason and brought the knife to the soft, cotton underwear Jason had gotten earlier that day in the showers.
"Wait—"
"What is it now."
"Maybe we should do this the more conventional way. You know, have an actual strategy?"
"I know my strategy. I've seen more and more that if breaking is what you want, then why dance around the issue." He drew the shockrod from his belt.
"Hey—that's too far beyond the normal parameters—"
"He's some exceptional being. Or so people keep saying. Well, if he's so exceptional, he'll be able to take this without melting into a shattered mess." He tapped the rod against the floor. Bright blue sparks snapped from it
Horror shuddered through Jason when he realized what Kell might be preparing to do.
He rolled away, but Kell grabbed his arm, stopping him. Pain lanced through Jason's head. His stomach lurched.
"Enough of this," said Lila. "I'm reporting you."
"I've got prerogative—"
She swore. "This is too far. Not just because it might shatter him, but because of the real risk of lasting damage." She lifted her phone to her ear.
Kell glared at her. "Fine. But if he ends up being another Elliot, don't come crying to me." He strode out of the room.
Lila knelt beside him. "Are you alright?" She lifted his head gently. "We've got to get that looked at. You sure put up a fight there." She squeezed his arm gently. "I shouldn't have let him…. Kell gets too overzealous sometimes."
"Th-thank you," said Jason, forcing out the words.
"Don't mention it. I believe in finesse. Not beating a future comrade into a pulp. I mean, we'll have to work together—I doubt you'd ever trust Kell at your side."
Jason shook his head, sending shockwaves through it.
"Sit tight. I'll call Med."
A few fuzzy moments later, a gurney rolled in, and several paramedics lifted Jason onto it. It was heavenly soft after the floor.
Lila clicked her tongue. "Another concussion. We need to keep those precious brain cells intact." She smoothed his hair back. Part of him was repulsed but part of him didn't mind… at least she was a semblance of an ally. When it came to the Breakers, at least.
Dr. Miller tended to him, giving him some very good painkillers. He longed to plunge into sleep, but to his chagrin Dr. Miller advised he had to stay awake, because a concussion could be dangerous. So each time the monitor advised them that he was falling asleep, a nurse came over to wake him up. Finally, near morning, when he was out of danger, they let him go, and he fell face-first into dreams.