| From: | Avenger <Avenger@*******.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | V/L: Retribution |
| Date: | Sat, 6 Jun 1998 03:34:13 +0100 |
>>>>>[Admirable. Most admirable. What a shame it will be when he
finally breaks. This has been most entertaining, and refreshing. To
finally find someone who has an inner strength that matches my own. Ah
such a pity.
+++++Include audio/visual log
Sobbing permeates the darkness. A sobbing that speaks volumes of a soul
in such utter torment it no longer considers hope an option. The sound
of total despair, and ultimate pain. Intermingled with the heart
rending sound is a wracking cough. A cough that describes the body's
losing battle with life. Deep, rattling, phlegmy. A death rattle.
*****Engaging IR systems
A form, barely recognisable as human huddles in the corner of a small
cell, two by one metre, barely large enough to lay down in, though no
bed is present. Only a cold and damp floor, a layer of water wrapping
itself around the legs and lower section of the cramped body. The body
is cold, very little heat present in the shivering shape, it's arms
wrapped around it's torso, shaking in time to the pain wracked coughing.
The form's head is slumped, damp hair hanging loose and unkempt across
it's face.
"He's alive Shaitan, though I don't know for how much longer."
"Oh he'll live for a while yet Ahriman, he has a drive, a hatred of me
that will sustain him beyond that of normal men. He is also dedicated,
extremely dedicated. That will sustain him too. He now feeds on his
anger and his hatred, his body eats at itself while his mind desperately
attempts to maintain it's sanity by picturing it's final victory over
it's tormentor. What he doesn't realise, and which will shatter his
strength further is his hatred is only a step from adoration. He is
falling in love with his tormentor only he doesn't yet realise it. When
he does, he will either break, or die."
"You are so sure that is what is happening?"
"It is a common psychological problem between long term prisoners and
their tormentors. Proved in several studies over the years beginning
with the Oslo situation of the late 80's where a group of people held to
ransom defended their captors against the media and police who had
strived to save them. Other evidence is present from long term captives
in the Middle East, Russia, Korea, Vietnam, and many other areas. The
captors show brutality, such brutality that it shocks the subjects.
Then they show kindness, gentleness, almost a love for their victims.
This condition is continued for some time, and eventually the subject
becomes so confused that they are unaware that their emotional state has
become completely different from their first hatred. It is amusing to
watch, though I suspect extremely distressing to undergo."
"Why is this one so important Shaitan? Or are you simply amusing
yourself until the project is complete?"
"Oh no Ahriman, this is not just simple amusement. That man in there is
valuable to us. That is why I went to such lengths to fake his death
and ensure that his body was so damaged only a few teeth would provide
sufficient for the finders to identify him properly. That man down
there has codes and access routines, locations and addresses, contacts
and information locked up in his head that is invaluable to us. With
him on our side we can evade those that pursue us with ease. Predicting
their movements, reading their communications, redirecting them when
they get too close. When his usefulness is exhausted he will be given
to Him. He will make a worthy sacrifice, one that will bring me much
favour. But first I want to drain his mind of everything he owns."
"Why not rape him. Accessing his mind would be so much simpler than this
torture, and much quicker."
"Yes, but there is a cost to gaining knowledge in such a manner. The
one who drained Abbadon's mind will have suffered for days, migraine
headaches, dreams, nightmares, sudden loss of motor control functions,
nervous disorders, and a multitude of other symptoms. You see, that
sort of rape brings everything that was the victim into your own mind.
Years of memories, experiences, thoughts, dreams, everything. For a
short while there is a battle as to which person you are. I have known
some to become their victim, because of the trauma experienced as a
result of this sudden and painful infusion of knowledge. I do not wish
to battle this man inside my own body - I am not confident enough that I
could beat him. Already he has demonstrated a resilience I have never
encountered before. A resistance to pain that is almost miraculous.
But, also he must give up his knowledge willingly, or I will never be
able to decipher it all, and much will be lost. His co-operation is
important in that he knows what what is expected and understands how to
countermand any intrusion countermeasures. I will have to learn all
that from his memories. No, Ahriman it is far easier to break him and
use him that way than to attempt to gain knowledge through other means."
"You fear him."
"Yes. Rightly so. You would do well to fear him as well. Look at him
Ahriman. His body shattered, half his teeth torn out, his muscles
scream in agony, his flesh burns from the wounds he has suffered, his
nerves are shattered from the input, the joints in all his limbs ache,
and he sits freezing in a cold, damp cell that many fish would refuse as
a home. He has been isolated from human contact for days on end, then
dragged into brightly lit rooms and questioned, tortured, tormented,
then returned to the cell. Later he has been dragged out again to the
crypt where I have attended to him. He has seen things that would drive
most men insane, he has suffered torment that would have broken most.
Yet still he resists. There is a spark, something within him that
sustains him against everything we have done. Yes I fear him. Not
because he is a threat. That is no longer a concern. He has
insufficient strength to pose much of a threat to anyone except himself.
No what I fear is that there may be more like him out there. Men of
such dedication that they will continue to hunt us against all the odds,
men who will not give up, who will continue against all adversity. That
is what I fear - and he, that man down there suffering so beautifully,
is a symbol of those men. While he still resists me, I have reason to
fear. Once he has been broken I will know what must be done to break
others like him, and then I will fear no man. Have him removed to my
quarters, it is time to tend his injuries and confuse him some more.
Monitor as usual, I do not wish any unpleasant surprises."
"As you wish."
+++++End audio/visual log
+++++Begin Audio/visual log: Shaitan's Quarters
The wreck laying on it's side on a thick carpet in a lushly furnished
appartment is only recognisable as a human by virtue of owning two arms
and two legs, and only vaguely recognisable as male. The flesh has been
split and torn in several places, evidence of needles and other tools on
his arms and legs. His back is almost flayed, the strokes of a whip
plain in the welts along his ribs, but his back looks as though someone
has taken an angle grinder to it. The mask remains in place, obscuring
his vision, and hindering his hearing. Tight, strapped and rivetted the
discomfort cannot be imagined. The body glistens in the flickering
light of the room, though whether from sweat or water it is impossible
to say. Filth from the cell covers his legs and waist.
A slim female kneels next to the body, her long dark hair falling in
front of her face. The slim body clothed in a light silken gown that
conceals little and reveals nothing. A bowl of steaming water, and
several glass bottles lay nearby. She dips a soft cloth into the water,
wrings it out and begins to wash the man's legs, removing the dirt and
the blood. Occasionally tipping something from one of the bottles into
the water as she works. Suddenly the body spasms, and launches away
from her.
"Who...?" He grunts in pain, the raw flesh of his back scraping across
the carpet.
She crawls rapidly towards the man, cradling his head gently. "Do not
fear me. I will not harm you. I am here to tend to you, to soothe your
pain." The voice is soft, warm and rich.
"Don't bother. I like things the way they are."
"Do not be foolish. While you have a chance at health, you will have a
chance of escape. I cannot help you, I am watched all the time, but I
am allowed to tend to you. Please do not refuse, it will do you no
good. You need every edge you can get if you are to resist her."
"Her?"
"You know who I mean. Shaitan. She has this dream that she will turn
you into her slave, her personal pet that she can drag around on a
leash. There are many here who would like to see her beaten, but are
too scared to take action themselves. You may be the spark that is
needed to instigate the rebellion that hovers beneath the surface. To
do that, you must resist her, and to resist one such as her you must
maintain your strength and health. Already you are terribly wounded and
weak. Please, do not refuse my assistance. It is not only you who must
be considered now. You are not alone."
"It's a trick. Don't seek to fool me with your kindness, I am not
stupid. We have used similar techniques in the past when we wanted to
fool an enemy into thinking they had allies."
"Believe what you want. I can't prove otherwise, but even so you must
realise that you will die if you are not tended. Your wounds already
show signs of infection. Please, don't fight me. Allow me to at least
clean your injuries, and help you regain some of your strength. Please.
This may be the only way you will be able to resist her."
"Who are you, and why would Shaitan allow you to do this?"
"I am Dainour, Shaitan has assigned me to your care. She does not want
you to die either, that would defeat her purpose. She has instructed me
to clean your injuries and tend the infection, but I have herbs and
potions that will help you, things that will strengthen your body and
your will against her. While she is occupied with you we can make the
arrangements that are necessary to overthrow her. Your battle is not
the only one that will be fought in these corridors."
"If you want to overthrow Shaitan it's a simple matter. Pick up a phone
and dial 202 324 3000. That puts you straight through to the Hoover
building in Washington DC. A couple of hundred FBI agents will descend
on this place within the hour."
"We're not in Washington, we're not anywhere that the FBI can reach
within eight hours let alone one. Also she will know. All outgoing
lines are monitored, there is no way to communicate with the outside
world. We are no longer in the UCAS, you have been transported to a
secret establishment on an island outside of UCAS territory, anything
that approaches the island will be detected before it has a chance, and
destroyed."
"If you really want to help, remove the mask. I wish to breathe air,
without the foul taste of this thing in the way, and I want to look on
the face of the one who would be my saviour."
"I can't do that. If I take off your mask Shaitan will kill me. There
is an electronic catch on the buckles, if that is disengaged for any
reason, and alarm will sound, and Shaitan's thugs will come. They will
kill me, and make you watch, then you will be made to suffer again.
Worse than you have already. Shaitan is extremely skilled in making
people suffer. I have seen her keep a man alive for months with her
techniques. You are somehow important to her, so the treatment has been
more intense. Now she is worried that you will die."
"Then if I am important to her, my death would deal her a satisfactory
blow. Leave me as I am, if I can screw her plans up with my death then
I will have at least achieved something."
"You mustn't think like that." Slowly she helps the man slide back to
the towels and again begins to wash his limbs and tend to the lesser
wounds. "It is important that you live. I've already said more than I
should have. Your death would not achieve anything, but your survival
occupies her, it prevents her from attending to other things - like the
resistance. While you live, the resistance has a chance to attempt your
rescue. Is that not important? The chance that you might soon be free
to deal her a blow yourself?" Her reply is silence. "Please at least
consider it. Your survival is the most important thing at the moment,
and not because it would please her."
"I, I don't know what to believe or think anymore." His voice is less
strong, less sure, and weary. So very, very weary. "Letting go and
dying would be so much easier. I am tired of fighting her. I am tired
of the pain, it has become so that I would almost welcome death, even
though it would prevent me from tearing the bitch's head off."
"Is your hatred so strong that even after all this you can consider
revenge? Would it not be to your advantage to remain strong, healthy,
resistant, alive?"
"I would give much to feel her throat under my hands. To strangle the
life out of her, and watch her eyes as her life fled them. Oh, I would
give much for that."
"Then let me help you."
"Ok, Dainour, do what you have to do. I do not believe you, but I
cannot smell Shaitan nearby, though her scent is still here. I do not
trust you either, I believe you are part of Shaitan's plan, and as such
this is all contrived to give me a false sense of security. But it will
be pleasant to smell her sweat again as she has to work to make me
talk."
"You can smell her?" The woman's head cocks to one side in curiosity.
"Yes. I have very little left in the way of understanding, or seeing
what is around me. I am able to smell the bitch from quite some
distance. A rancid smell, similar to rotten meat, but somehow sweeter.
She is dead already, she just doesn't know it yet."
The woman's hands clench into fists, and momentarily flicker with a
bluish flame. It is obviously a conscious effort for her to regain
control. She gently begins to apply disinfectant and dressings to the
deeper wounds, rinsing them through with water and liquids from the
bottles. "I have never noticed that she smells so badly."
A rough laugh, unpleasant in nature and sound. "Of course you wouldn't,
you get to see and hear her. I only feel what she does. It is rare
that she speaks to me. So I have come to learn her smell. It is a
stench that I will not easily forget."
Silently for several minutes the woman works on the broken body,
dressing wounds, cleaning the flesh and applying liquids from her
unmarked pharmacy liberally to the more distressed areas of the man's
body. From the way he gradually relaxes, it is apparent that the pain
is receding, and the treatment is working. Gently the woman caresses
the mask and runs her hands across his chest.
"Don't die, please. It is more important than you could realise that
you live. Here drink this." She holds a small china cup to his lips, a
steaming green liquid inside. "It will help you breathe and calm your
fever."
He sips gingerly at the liquid. "I have no intention of dying Dainour.
While I live I can smell the fear in Shaitan's sweat. While I live
there is a chance that a mistake will be made and I can kill the whore.
While I live, I have hope. Sooner or later she will make a mistake, and
I will have her. You can tell her that when they debrief you - assuming
we are not monitored."
"There are cameras, but no microphones. They only have visual
recordings of what we do here. My hair is long, so they cannot see what
I am saying, and the mask obscures your face."
"There are other ways of monitoring us than cameras and microphones.
There are things in this world that we cannot see, but someone like
Shaitan knows of them, and can make use of them. Spirits, ghosts,
whatever. But they are there, and to someone like Shaitan, they are
simply tools. I would be amazed if she had not arranged for something
to be done. That is why I do not believe you Dainour. Because you
would not have been stupid enough to have said so much if you weren't
pretending. This charade is foolish, and achieves nothing. Just do
what you have to do, and get it over with."
The woman places her hands on either side of the tortured man's head and
turns it to face her. "I do not expect you to believe me. I do not
expect you to trust me. But I tell you this, I hate Shaitan every bit
as much as you do. If I had the strength I would kill her myself, but I
do not. I do know that I will do everything I can to keep you alive,
and to help you. I don't care whether you believe me, you will find out
for yourself in time. Meanwhile I will do everything I can to make
certain that you keep Shaitan occupied for as long as possible, so the
resistance can gather and plan it's attack." She leans forward suddenly
and kisses the cracked lips through the small opening in the mask. "Let
that be a memory for you, I do care what happens. I do care about you,
and I mean what I say. Take the taste of my lips with you to the crypt,
and remember, I will await you here, to tend your injuries and help you
resist the devil's servant." She rises and leaves the room, not waiting
for a reply. The man flops back down, silent, thoughtful.
Moments later, the door opens again, and the ornate robes of Shaitan
enters the room. "So, how are you feeling now, Mr. Hero."
"Shaitan." The hatred in his voice is deep seated and vicious, the name
on his lips becomes one of acid and poison.
"Yes, my little government lackey, Shaitan. I have come to play with
you again. Did you enjoy the ministrations of your new concubine? Or
was she as useless as I believe her to be? No, don't bother answering."
Shaitan stands next to the body, the hooded robe bent over the prone
form. She pokes at the man's soiled shorts. "I can see that she has
not pleased you. Are you still unable to raise the flag for your
country? Would you prefer a little boy to come and tend you wounds? Or
something more exotic perhaps?"
"Fuck off and die."
Shaitan's musical laugh rings through the room. "Oh no my sweet, I will
not satisfy your wishes by co-operating in such a tedious exersize. I
have more interesting topics to attend to. Well, we shall see if the
slut is able to make you into a man again, she will be looking after you
for a while, I suggest you make the most of it. When you serve me, you
will not find that I am near as gentle with you."
"It'll be a cold day in hell before that happens..."
"Oh please. Do you not know, several levels of Hell are frozen. So
your statement is rather pointless."
"Do your worst Shaitan, while I live your days are numbered. I hope you
can count, and will make the most of what little time you have left."
"Oh good. She has put some spark back into you. Oh that is so much
better. Yes, I think you are ready for me again. Guards! Take this
thing to the crypt and secure him there. I will attend shortly."
Shaitan turns to watch two Orks carry the man out of the room. Throwing
back her hood, she pokes at the bloodied towels with her foot, her long
dark hair spilling across the shoulders of her robe. A flash of silk is
revealed as she kicks one of the towels towards the door. "Oh yes, much
better. You will come to trust Dainoun, though it will be against your
better judgement, and we will have so much fun when the mask finally
comes off. Then you will see who it is that cares for you. Who it is
you have come to love and trust. You can smell me can you? Let us see
how sensitive that nose really is."
+++++End audio/visual log
]<<<<<
-- Shaitan <03:30:12/06-06-59>
