Prophecy -- Chapter 12

Disclaimer:  The TV shows Dark Angel and Supernatural, all of the characters that appeared on them, and everything else that has to do with the shows belong to their respective owners, not to me.  No money is being made off of this fic.  I only own the original characters (Dylan/X6-175, etc.).

175 bit his lip to suppress a scream as the clamp tightened on the fingers on his right hand.  He willed himself not to let any tears fall, even as he felt and heard bones cracking.  He forced himself not to shake in pain and fear when the intensity of the laser that was burning into his right eye was turned up.  A voice began speaking and he tried to shove aside the dizziness that was starting to plague him to focus on it.  He did not want to relive what had happened the last time he’d failed to pay enough attention.

“We’ve been at this for quite some time, 175,” a uniformed soldier said calmly.  He paced back and forth in front of the boy as placidly as if he was a teacher lecturing an elementary school class.  “I know that you have the information that I want.  You do realize that all of this isn’t necessary, don’t you?  Certainly a soldier of your caliber has this in mind.  Where is the rest of your team?  Did they have the weapons with them?  Did they take the other plans from the computers?”

“I’m not…saying…a word,” 175 managed to say.  Somehow, he found the mental and physical strength not to give in and even glared at the soldier with his left eye.  “I won’t tell you.”

The soldier shrugged and gestured to somebody that 175 was unable to see from his position strapped in the chair that he’d been placed in earlier.  A few moments later, 175 managed to cut his scream short when he felt a fire poker make contact with his left leg.  He could still feel where it had been used several times before during the interrogation.  “If that’s the way that you want to play it, then this is how I’m going to handle this.  Simple as that.  Tell me what I want to hear and this will be over.  No more pain, no more suffering, you’ll get your wounds treated, and we’ll make sure that you’ll be released somewhere safe.”  He removed the clamp from the fingers on 175’s right hand.  “Just like that.  Doesn’t that sound good?  Just tell us what we want to know.”

“No,” 175 mumbled.  He blinked and raised his voice.  “No.  I won’t tell you anything.”

The soldier’s face darkened and he reached forward, grabbing the boy by the throat and squeezing hard enough to make 175 gag.  “I know that my compatriots were in here earlier.  They told me what they had to do.  I was trying to be nice.  You do catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, after all.  But if you still want to do it their way, we’ll do it their way.”  175 silently panicked when he felt the electrodes and bands being placed on him again and moments later, once the soldier had let go of his throat, yelled out as the electricity was sent through him.  The soldier just smiled as 175’s body convulsed and strained against the straps that were holding him down until was shut off.  “That didn’t feel nice, did it?  It sure looked nice from my point-of-view.  Why?  Because I don’t like it when I’m not listened to.”

“I…don’t…care.”  The edges of 175’s field of vision were starting to fade and he tried to resist it.  He focused his weary gaze on the soldier.  “That’s…irrelevant.  The mission…my mission is what matters.  I will carry…it out.  All of the way.”

“Do you want to see how little I care about that, you annoying little piece of crap?” the soldier hissed.  “Do you want more of this?  Huh?  Do you enjoy this?  Is this some kind of a game for you?  It’s not to me.  I’m just doing my job.  And if said job entails you dying before you can give me what I want, so be it.”

“I won’t—“  175 suddenly screamed when the electricity was turned on again.  The assault it made on his body seemed to go on for an eternity.  When it was finally shut off, he tried to look the soldier in the eye once more, but his vision swam in and out of focus.  “I…won’t.”  175’s exhausted body finally had enough and he passed out.

“175?  X6-175?  Are you conscious?  Can you hear me?”

175 blinked at the sound of the friendly female voice and slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.  The white walls and ceilings were nearly identical to the ones of the interrogation room that he’d been in before, but the sounds were different and all too familiar to the boy.  The infirmary.  He felt an immense sense of relief.  “How long was I out, ma’am?”

The nurse that had spoken to him smiled.  “You’ve been in the infirmary for twelve hours.  I was told that your final session of your Advanced Interrogation class lasted for fifty-three hours, eight minutes, and forty-seven seconds.  That’s quite impressive, 175.  My co-workers said that you only missed X5-494’s record by two minutes.  Good job.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” 175 said quietly.

“You’re awake,” a doctor said as he walked over to the side of 175’s bed.  “Excellent.  You’re healing nicely.  As a matter of fact, you’re recovered enough to the point that we can send you back to your cell.  We have nearly a full unit of injured X5s coming in from a mission, so we need the space in this area.  It is now Tuesday night and as a precaution, you’ll be out of full active duty until Friday morning.  Report back here if you require any painkillers or further treatment.”

“Yes, sir.”  175 slowly got out of bed and changed into his usual t-shirt and urban camouflage pants, which were folded neatly on the seat of the metal chair next to his bed.  He gave the doctor and nurse a salute, limped out of the infirmary, and made his way back through the building to his cell.  Once inside, he sat down on the bunk, lay down, and nearly fell asleep, only to open his eyes again when he heard a knock at the door.  “Who is it?”

“It’s me, 494.  510’s with me.”  Without waiting for any acknowledgement, the door opened and the two teenagers walked inside 175’s cell.  “Hey there, 175.  You’ve looked better.”

175 managed to smile.  “Hi, 494.  Hi, 510.  I’ve felt better.”

“How far did you make it?” 510 asked.

“The nurse told me that I was in there for fifty-three hours, eight minutes, and forty-seven seconds,” 175 replied.  His eyes filled with tears.  “It was bad.  The two weeks in Psy Ops when I was six was bad too, but they drug it out then.  They just came at me so hard in there.”

“They did that for 510 and me when we had our turn four years ago,” 494 recalled.  “I liked it as much as you’re digging it now.  It’s hard, but you know that you’ve got to put up with it somehow.  I don’t like it, 510 doesn’t like it, I know you don’t like it, and if anybody does, they’ve got a lot of screws loose.”

“The most that any of us can do is to survive it,” 510 said.  “Get through the day any way that we can.  You’re one of the toughest kids I’ve ever met, 175.  You’ll be bouncing back for sure.  I’ve got no doubt about it.”

“Maybe,” 175 conceded.  “But it hurt so bad.  When you guys went through it, did any of the soldiers that were questioning you whip you so hard that you could barely feel your right side for at least an hour?  That happened to me, I think it was the second soldier that interrogated me.  He whipped me eleven straight times when I didn’t tell him the fake location of the safe house.  He said that it was one whip for every year old that I was.  It could have been worse, I guess.”  Tears fell from his eyes as he looked at his friends.  “It hurt so bad.  Why?  Just…why?”

“I wish that I had an answer, 175,” 494 said quietly.  He put a hand on 175’s shoulder and 175 suddenly threw his arms around 494, sobbing into 494’s own shoulder.

A pair of eyes suddenly opened and a figure sat straight up in bed.  The man turned to look at the empty space next to him on the bed before nodding to himself and sighing.  He buried his face in his hands, trying to regain some degree of control.  After eventually getting out of the bed, the man paced the length of his bedroom before he abruptly went over to his bedroom closet, opened the door, and frantically looked inside until he pulled out a small photo album.  He flipped through it until he came to a page and he closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

TBC