Arc 1 Part 3. Fight it
Torture for information, taunting, beating with crowbar, broken bones, begging, serious leg injury, nausea, passing out from pain, vauge death wish
Morgan strides into the cell, a familiar duffle bag in hand. He drops it on the floor with a loud clunk.
"You're making me miss my lunch break."
Jesse groans, trying to hide their face, not wanting him to see their tears.
"Oh Jesse, you look distraught." He crouches next to them, lifting their head with a hand in their hair. "Were you crying?" He grins, "and here I was worrying I'd been too optimistic!" He leans in conspiratorially "My bosses think I've been going easy on you." He drops their head to the floor, standing and brushing off his pants. "Maybe I have. It's not common I let a prisoner last over a month." He moves to the bag and rummages through it. "Honestly Jesse, I like you."
They roll their eyes. "Clearly."
"It's true! I like watching you fight it." He turns to them, crowbar in hand.
Jesse's whole body tenses, every fiber of them attuned to the new weapon. Morgan never uses anything like this. Canes, whips, knives, fists, boots, but this won't just injure, it will destroy. Their breath comes in ragged gasps, they can't seem to get enough air.
"Adrian-" they gasp, using his first name
They push themself up on their good arm and try to scoot away, but Morgan's boot lands on the chain around their neck, holding them in place.
"Oh no you don't." He croons. Nausea rolls over them, and they are suddenly glad they haven't been fed in god knows how long.
"Adrian, please-"
"I mean look at you," He purrs, cutting them off with a look. “You're trying so hard to hold yourself together, but you're not that naive. You know how this'll end." He takes a slow step forward. "You know your crew can't go up against AQUA. Even if they could, its not worth it for you. I think deep down you've always known they aren't coming. Thats why you tried so hard to escape at first, despite the punishments. But now, you're finally starting to get it. Its written all over your face.”
Jesse doesn't have the energy to deny it.
“And you're still fighting, fighting the inevitable. I like watching you fight. Believe it or not, even this job gets repetitive after enough time. You're not unique per say, more just…” a wolfish grin spreads across his face, “adorable.”
"I bet you say that to all your prisoners." Jesse snaps back. "You're just playing with me. Trying to make me feel… hopeless, like I've already lost."
“Haven't you though?” he muses
“This is just another sick mind game. You want me to feel like- like its not worth fighting back... You're just- just- just playing with me.”
Morgan grins. "Hey, of course I am!" He pauses, and all the mock humor drains from him in an instant. "doesn't mean it's not true though. Can you stand on your own or do you need my help?"
For an instant Jesse is frozen. Rarely does his interrogator let the playful mask fall, he sounds dead. In desperate fear Jesse tries to shove themself up, but they don't have the strength. Their limbs tremble violently and the floor spins back up to smack their face. Morgan drags them up by the collar.
"Give me your wrists."
Their legs are shaking so bad it's hard to stay upright, but they don't want to make it any worse. They hold out their hands.
"Good '' Morgan takes their wrists and almost gently maneuvers them up till they reach the cuffs hanging from the ceiling. "Good," he says again, wiping the tears from their cheeks. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do anything truly nasty to you, but my bosses aren't patient." He sounds almost apologetic, Jesse feels more tears slipping down their cheeks. "Unfortunately, they aren't here with us, can't see you're already crumbling." He pauses and then, more harshly, “So I have to reassure them."
He goes for their right shin first, breaking the bone with the first blow. For a blessed second, the unnatural snap is worse than the pain, but then, like thunder after a lightning strike, it rolls in. Jesse screams, flailing against the chains, trying desperately to escape. The crowbar falls again, slamming deep into the muscle of their thigh. And again and again, their shin, thigh, hip, each blow building on the agony of the last. Its too much, they cant take it. They scream uselessly, voice cracking with the strain.
The next blow impacts the side of their knee, dislodging something important. They see the knee buckle sideways. Screams falter as their body tries to hurl up the contents of its stomach, but it holds nothing but bile and sobs.
Distinct agonies blur into one undefinable, torturous mass as they lose track of the blows. The world blurs, thick black nothingness creeping in around their edges. With the blackness comes numbness and they wish the void would swallow them. As long as it doesn't hurt.
They snap back to consiousness, where were they? bringing with it the pain and terror they'd briefly escaped. They're screaming again before their eyes fly open. The man stands in front of them splattered in red, like some bizarre piece of modern art. He slaps them again, banishing the last remnants of oblivion.
"Please!" They wail, "stop, please stop please!"
He steps close enough for them to feel his spittle when he yells "Tell me where your base is!"
They sob, unable to find words through the pain. Their mind is in chaos, each thought unraveling faster than it can form.
"Please stop, please stop, please-."
"Where. Is. Your. Base." Morgan cuts off their incoherent begging, speaking slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
Nothing but whimpers make it past their lips
"Then what the hell makes you think I'd stop?" He grabs their leg and twists. This time the pain follows them into blackness.
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