| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <Shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Jail House Blues |
| Date: | Sat, 31 Oct 1998 10:43:24 +0000 |
>>>>>[TO: D J H Coppinger, Director: Cpt L R W Lynch
CC: Archive
I wasn't there so I just put the film in so you can see how everyone
else was managing quite well even though I wasn't there.
+++++begin video
The two prisoners are herded into the office at rifle point, the guards
(two hybrids, two humans) keeping a wary distance. Ronin turns to snarl
at one, and gets buttstroked in the kidneys for it, knocking him
sprawling, a hybrid keeping its rifle warily trained on the samurai.
Whatever contempt might live in the Amazonians' words, their actions
show their fear of the captives. Griffyn's been hooded: that alone shows
concern.
The other prisoners in the room number the entire team. Kitman lies on a
stretcher, his left knee encased in bloody dressings. Emma seems
somehow... civilian, in the group, lacking the empty flapping ammunition
pouches and holsters of the others: her combat harness not empty but
missing altogether. Harley stands, awkwardly, trying to keep the weight
off her crippled leg: Mayaguez has a massive bruise covering half his
face. Li, though unhurt, looks sullen and angry.
Colonel Tuhacua, the guard commander, sitting behind the room's desk, is
a cruel-faced _mezisto_. His cheeks scarred by acne or smallpox, his
moustache waxed and pomaded to a gloss, his uniform immaculately
creased: as he rises and comes from around the desk, his riding boots
gleam like brown mirrors.
"Well, well, well, what a motley crew." he says, regarding them. "Is
this the best our enemies could do? Such a poor collection. Never mind,
you'll provide some amusement for our interrogators.
Tuhacua turns on his heel. "If you confess everything, now, at once,
then you will be shot as spies. Quick, merciful, efficient. If you do
not... then I will be forced to use more coercive means upon you." He
smirks.
"And you think that will get you anything?" Griffyn, still hooded, asks.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm sure you can withstand enormous pain,
weretiger, and I'm sure an animal like you has little care for his human
colleagues. But your friends... how well will they cope, watching my
interrogators amuse themselves with their comrades, knowing that they
need only speak out to end another's torment?"
He pauses by Kitman's stretcher, rests one hand on it: his weight coming
onto the sergeant's shattered knee. Kitman can't quite stifle his gasp
of pain. "How long can you see a friend suffer for, knowing that only
your intransigence is prolonging his pain?" The Colonel smiles happily
at his prisoners, flexing and twisting the torn flesh and broken bone
under his fingers. The captives - those not hooded - either look
elsewhere, or stare at him with hate, until the sweat-drenched Kitman
loses consciousness. "A while, I see. Good! A contest of wills! And one
we will enjoy far more than you, I think." He wipes fresh blood from his
hand with distaste.
Tuhacua regards Harley, then Emma, with a distant smile. "These two, for
instance. Blonde _gringo_ women find themselves much in demand here. I
have over two hundred troops, it will take some time before they are
satisfied -"
"If the troops are like you, dude, I kinda doubt I'll get satisfied at
_all_." Even after the stinging slap the Colonel administers, Harley
grins.
Tuhacua quickly recovers his composure. "We know most of what we need
anyway, of course. Your mission was penetrated, compromised, weeks ago.
We knew exactly how many of you to expect, what you would bring. How
else could we capture you so easily? If you wish to spare each other
agony, speak now. If not, then you will provide noisy amusement for a
few days until you die. It matters little to me."
Stony silence from most of the group, broken only by a muffled sob from
Emma. Harley tries to rub her reddened cheek on her shoulder, but her
bonds prevent her.
"Very well." The Colonel comes to a decision. "Take them to the parade
ground. Stake out the women. Make sure their comrades watch. Make sure
they are not _too_ damaged afterwards-"
"Please, NO!" Emma bursts into tears and drops to her knees. "I'll talk!
I'll tell you everything! Please, don't hurt me! I'm not like these
people! I don't want to be here! Do what you want with them but please
just don't hurt me!"
"You traitorous bitch!" Ronin snarls, and is kicked in the back of the
knee, knocked flat, for his pains. "You don't tell them a damn thing-" A
kick in the small of the back silences him.
"If he speaks again, gag him. Bring her here." Tuhacua says, thoughtful.
"You, what is your name?"
"Diaz, senhor. Esmeralda Diaz." Emma brings up her bound hands, wipes
her nose on her sleeve. "I am an honest trader and fisher from
Georgetown -"
The Colonel roars with laughter. "Then you were surely the only one!
Honest, in Georgetown!"
"Senhor Colonel, do you wish to hear me or mock me?" Emma replies with
offended innocence. "I tell you I am a trader, nothing more. I trouble
noboody and I seek no trouble., When I see a patrol boat, I do as they
tell me, for I have nothing to hide."
"No, you pay your bribes and go on your criminal way. I know the coasts
well, Diaz, do not lie. So how are you with these men?"
"As I said, senhor, I see the patrol boats, I obey them. I have only a
small _banca_, and my papers were in order -"
"What were you smuggling?"
Emma pauses, visibly reluctant, then says "Biologicals, senhor. There
was a team in the deep jungle, collecting samples. I took their samples
to Georgetown, send the signal, then take them far out to sea to be
collected. As far north as Trinidad, as far south as Paramarimbo, never
the same location twice. Small flasks, never many. Easy to hide. A
seaplane would come in the night, while I pretended to fish-"
"A lucrative trade, I'm sure. And one the Amazonians would surely kill
you for, were they to learn of it. Continue." The Colonel settles into
his seat, takes a thin cheroot from his desk, lights it. "How did you
come to meet these spies?"
"I was coming back from a delivery when a patrol boat stopped me. I
showed them my papers and they were content. They moved on, and stopped
another boat, a dirty Commander, surely a pirate craft, that was
skulking along the coast. I thought nothing of it until I heard the
explosion and the machine guns. The patrol boat sank almost at once, and
the Commander came for me. They told me they could not let me go, that I
now knew too much. They took me aboard and they sank my boat!" Emma's
tone has the outrage reserved for those who don't understand the heard-
nothing saw-nothing saying-nothing mentality of the coastal smugglers.
"They were obviously foreigners, I knew that at once."
"Obviously. Why did they not merely kill you?"
"Two of them were killed in the shooting. The patrol boat did not die
easily, senhor. One of the dead was their interpreter, and being
_norteamericanos_ none other of them spoke Guarani. When they learned I
did, they promised me money if I would translate for them, and death if
I did not. What could I do, senhor Colonel?"
"So, they threatened you, and you did whatever you asked in terror. And
now, I threaten you, and you do what I ask just as fast." Tuhacua
smirks, puffing on his cheroot. "I so love cowards. They are at least
predictable."
"You tell him any more and-" Li manages, before the sound of a blow
silences him.
"Tell me more and I will let you live. I will even let you watch, while
these fools are interrogated." The Colonel gestures. "Fall silent, and
you will be a barracks whore for the rest of your short and pain-filled
life. Now, continue."
"We travelled south, along the coast, until we were forced to take
shelter by a storm. It turned out there was a guard post overlooking the
river entrance, and they were trapped there. Though they had false
papers, they were sure they would not survive proper scrutiny. So, they
pretended to get drunk, and sent the man-beast there -" Emma points at
Griffyn with disgust "ashore. He came back smiling and happy, almost
licking his chops. He murdered those soldiers, Colonel, I am sure of it,
he probably _ate_ them!"
"Indeed..."
"They made haste, as soon as the storm lifted and the beast-man was back
aboard, and we raced down the coast the the Delta and entered the river.
That was a hard passage, Colonel, the upper reaches of the Amazon are
wild and dangerous-"
"Of course we know that, you fool. "
"But they changed the boat and themselves totally, though. Instead of
ragged pirates, they now showed themselves to be professional
mercenaries. Their leader, the small woman who escaped, is called
Captain Lynch!" Emma proclaims with pride
"Should that impress me?"
The blonde woman puffs with offended self-righteousness. "Have you never
read the American news, Colonel? Just to kill her father Jason Lynch, a
terrorist organisation paid a bounty of _millions_, slaughtered
hundreds. All to kill just one man. If he is so important, surely his
daughter might be of some value?"
"_That_ Lynch?" Tuhacua pales visibly. "Name of the Great One..."
"And you have his daughter now. Or will have, soon. Surely that is
valuable?" Emma preens. "What a gift I brought you!"
"Still... this tells me little I did not already know." The Colonel
shakes his head, then smiles cruelly. "And I tire of cowardly pirates,
and I still am not sure you are not one of them. You match a description
too well. Ramon, Perez, take this slut away. She is yours until first
watch tomorrow. Enjoy her."
"No! No! Please!" Emma collapses, weeping. "Please, Colonel, I have told
you the truth, please, I beg of you-" Ramon, grinning, grabs her around
the chest, clutching her breasts and pulling her upright, the other is
reaching out to tear at her shirt-
Emma's hands, fingers stiff in classic knifehand blow, drive back and
inwards into Ramon's kidneys. The glitter at her fingertips warns that
Ramon's horoscope for today should have included "You will die writhing
on the floor in agony today, as your life's blood gushes out of your
severed iliac arteries". Her right hand comes up with Ramon's pistol in
it, and the first two shots blow wet red holes clean through Perez's
chest.
Colonel Tuahuaca has time to say "Please-" before the third, fourth and
fifth shots hit him: careful, precise, a group you could cover with one
hand centred perfectly over his left jacket pocket.
As Emma moves, Harley launches herself at the guard nearest her: they're
careless of an obvious cripple, and that's a mistake: for while she's no
match for the man in a melee, she's able to stay alive long enough for
Mayaguez to carefully rabbit-punches the back of his neck.
The last guard has already fallen, Li and Ronin downing him easily.
"Out of here! Go! Harley, get back to the boat!"
"I'm gone, dude." The rigger finishes stripping a dead man of his web
gear, and limps to the door: pausing, sweeping the compound, running out
of sight. Her awkward gait covers ground at a surprising speed... at
least, after months of intensive training it does.
Ronin checks his own captured rifle has a full magazine and a round
chambered. "Which way out?" he asks. Gunfire outside adds urgency to the
question.
Emma shakes her head. "I'm lost here. Anyone with nav gear?" Kitman
leans around the doorframe, fires a short burst, then another, reminding
them of their urgent predicament.
"Frag that." Griffyn replies, glad to have the hood off his head at last
as he robs a corpse of weapons and ammunition, "we run and run fast and
decide where to go later."
Ronin snorts, pulling magazines out of Ramon's pockets. "South to the
river, then downstream. These guys don't like jungle much, maybe-"
A shimmer in the air solidifies and grows into a darkening cloud that
becomes a nine-foot-tall Ant warrior that snaps at Ronin, who drops
prone and rolls: the huge shearing jaws missing him by inches. The
monstrosity is torn and ripped by bullets as almost everyone fires at it
at once.
But as it shudders under the impacts, a small cylinder bounces in
through the bars of the window and two more fly through the door: they
explode with a shattering concussion that blanks out the camera.
+++++pause one hour thirty-two minutes
Vision returns. Poor light, stone walls, a steel-barred door. A prision
cell. Dark and damp, algae growing on the walls. Ronin sits up,
groaning: examines the algae, picks at it, disappointed to find the
stonework behind is stout and sound. The bed has no mattress, just a
bare frame with a rusty spring base: a plastic bucket in the corner may
be for sanitation, and there's no sign of either food or water.
"Who's still alive?" he calls, massaging his temples as he tries to
fight off the lingering concussion.
"Kitman's dead." Emma's voice drifts down the corridor. "Maybe Li, as
well."
"Who else?"
"I saw them drag Mayaguez in. Griffyn's alive, too."
"But I'm not happy." the weretiger's voice drifts down the hall.
Ronin chuckles under his breath, regards the barred door of his cell:
resumes his examination of the walls. "Anyone got a spoon?" he calls.
"We could dig our way out. If we had a few hundred years, that is."
Emma's voice drifts from another cell, "We won't be here long. They'll
move us out soon. Most likely, sunset. In a few hours at most."
"Then what?"
"Then we get sacrificed, Matthew." Emma's tone is cold. "Escorted to the
top of the _teocali_ and killed, one at a time."
"I don't like the sound of that much."
"Neither do I, but the guards are well practiced. They have much
experience in preventing escape attempts. Anything we do will be doomed
to failure." Emma's tone is as gloomy as the cells. "Just watch me
closely, and I will show you how to die correctly."
"No way. They're hauling me up there kicking, screaming and fighting.
I'm not going to just roll over and..." Ronin pauses. Emma's tone is
fatalistic, _too_ fatalistic, just as it was almost too afraid and
fearful when she was "Diaz" the cowardly smuggler.
"Okay. If it's that hopeless, I guess I should accept death like a
samurai. _Funshi_, make an honourable death into an insult, the greatest
insult. Wasted on this _gaijin_ scumbag, of course. Aren't we even going
to meet this Doctor guy?"
"He'll be the one who cuts your heart out and holds it in front of your
dying eyes, Matthew." Emma replies. "He doesn't feel a need to be
friendly with his sacrifices. And given our track record, he won't even
risk coming down here to gloat over us. Even over me. He's learned that
lesson too painfully."
"You know him?"
"I worked for him for four years. I was young, and foolish. I know him
well." Emma falls silent. Ronin, after a pause, goes back to picking
lichen off the wall: perhaps hoping that a secret escape tunnel is
hidden there, probably just lacking any more engaging pursuit.
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Stephanie <10:42:45/10-31-59>
