| The Brig; [Day 2] | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 15 2009, 04:45 PM (561 Views) | |
| Heero Yuy | Sep 15 2009, 04:45 PM Post #1 |
![]()
|
>> Heero had always been taught that OZ and other Earth military groups generally kept to the Geneva Convention concerning prisoners of war. Boy was Dr. J wrong. Heero's wounds were practically compounded by the time he had arrived at Lake Victoria base in Africa, and was nearly conscious by the time they had thrown him in brig. Luckily they had only thrown the general abuse at him: punching, kicking, arm twisting, cold water splashing, tazing and the occasional slap in the face. Though unpleasant they were not anything he hadn't encountered before. So when they threw him in a solitary cell in the cold brig below the base he was relieved to finally have a reprieve. He had learned in transport that along with suspected terrorist he had also been labeled a kidnapper of the Vice Foreign Minister Darlian's innocent daughter. Though he wasn't aware of the full effect of his actions at the moment he had a suspicion that he had made a huge mistake in tormenting the woman. No matter, it was over now and he couldn't change the past. He couldn't take back his horrible descent, his kidnapping the woman, or his getting caught. Now was the time to wait for the perfect time to strike. He would have to conserve his energy and try his best to block out any attempt by the enemy to get information from him. These things he was confident about. Immunity to truth serum was a useful ability, and his tolerance to pain and mental and emotional torture was top notch. If interrogators wanted to waste their time on him they would only strike a highly developed impenetrable mental wall. He slumped down to the floor and curled up on his side. The cold metal floor stung his cheek and sent a vicious chill through his arms and legs. Squinting in the darkness, he tried his best not to fall asleep so as not to fall victim to his lingering concussion. "Okay, junior. Hold your arm steady. No, higher... that's right. Yes. Just like that. Now, with both eyes relaxed, stare into the cross hairs. Bring your focus on the target, and soon everything will come into focus." "I see it." "Good-good. Okay now steady the barrel with this arm and balance on the sandbag. Settle it into your shoulder, don't be afraid of the recoil. Welcome it and try to absorb its shock. Now once you have your target set, you're going to inhale and steady your hands." The boy called Junior sucked in a breath and squinted into the scope. "Okay, now relax and as you exhale gently squeeze the trigger. Don't snap it back. Squeeze it firmly. Ready?" "Yeah." "Okay, now!" Junior's fingers twitched in anticipation as his mentor gave the order. He waited for the target to stop dead center of the cross hairs. Slowly he squeezed the trigger, all the while blowing out a long held breath... BANG The tip of the barrel curled with a wisp of smoke and through the scope the little boy saw the target slump to the ground. Bystanders ran to the man's side, kneeling down to check on him only to find him dead. It had been the second time the child had snuffed the life out of a man in such a way. His shoulders shook as he stared through the scope at the crowd gathering around the fallen victim. He couldn't stop staring. He had done that, and yet he felt no sense of accomplishment. He felt nervous and his stomach began to grumble. His shoulders quivered uncontrollably despite his best effort to hide the fact he was shaking. His breathing quickened to a quiet pant and his eyes began to blur. He felt bad, but not as bad as the last time. His anxiety peaked when the man grabbed his shoulders and steadied them with two large, calloused hands. "Good job. It was a clean hit. Now relax. Breathe, Junior." The young boy sucked in a shaken breath and closed his eyes. He exhaled, and as he did his breath had transformed into a quiet sob. He bit his tongue and tried not to cry but his body wouldn't obey. He began to cry, hot streams trickling down his dirt-scuffed cheeks. The man squeezed his shoulders and through the gesture Junior felt a wave of comfort. The gesture was soothing, but did nothing to stop his tears. He let go of the rifle and let it fall to the side, landing with a loud thud on a pile of sandbags mounded upon the window's sill. He rubbed desperately at his burning eyes, trying to hold back the dam of tears behind them. ... Edited by Heero Yuy, Sep 22 2009, 01:45 PM.
|
| Practically imperfect in every way. | |
![]() |
|
| Reginald Damaci | Sep 25 2009, 12:33 PM Post #2 |
|
Reginald Damaci was a man of Honour. He was a man of protocol, of prestige. A man of... manliness. He was the sort of man whom his peers looked up to; who prided himself on a clean uniform, a clean record, and a well-maintained hat. The hat was important, he thought, because a man should never go anywhere without one, especially in Africa. He adjusted the brim of his regulation army-green cap as he stood outside the cell-block of recent prisoners and explained again that he was following procedure. The guards outside the cell block frowned, hemmed and hawed, grumbled a few unpleasant things, and in the end had to let him by. It was, after all, protocol. Pleased to see the rules adhered to, Reginald marched past them with his medical bag in tow and one of their number followed with the keys. They rattled in the lock and the door was shoved open with a huff and grate of hinges. Reginald ignored the guard's demenour, and the way that the door was slammed shut behind him. The keys rattled again, and the tumbler fell over in a loud bang, and Reginald was locked in with a suspected terrorist. Quite used to such things by this point in his life, the concept did not throw Reginald off as much as it might have ten years prior. As it was, the man in question had done little more than be suspected of bringing a weapon of unknown origins to the planet, and attempting to kidnap a politician's daughter. Reginald had attended to far more hardened criminals in his time, and so he set his medical bag down without the slightest hesitation and popped it open. "Good Evening Prisoner-number-two-four-six-zero-one. I'm Medical Officer Reginald Damaci; I'm here to treat wounds you were reported to have. Please answer my questions in as thorough and concise a manner as you can, and we'll have you patched up shortly." |
![]() |
|
| Heero Yuy | Sep 25 2009, 01:23 PM Post #3 |
![]()
|
The sound of keys rattling from down the secure hallway had brought him into consciousness from his shallow doze. At first he thought it was another interrogator but when the man entered and didn't make any motion to approach him he knew the man must have had different intentions. "Good Evening Prisoner-number-two-four-six-zero-one. I'm Medical Officer Reginald Damaci; I'm here to treat wounds you were reported to have. Please answer my questions in as thorough and concise a manner as you can, and we'll have you patched up shortly." A medic? He was shocked that he was being given such a luxury. However, like most people, he didn't trust doctors or medics. He had been taught to fix up his own wounds and scrapes. Granted that training didn't include being in clutches of the enemy. He pushed a bruised arm against the cold steel flooring and forced himself up to a crooked sit. His ribs ached from being struck by the truck, and his right eye was swollen close from an overzealous questioner only a few hours before. He peered up at the medic through the dim light and made no word of protest but merely stared up at him with his good eye narrowed upon him. Though he was staring at the medic his mind was wondering elsewhere. Past the man and to the door, where he heard the chuckle of two of the guards assigned to him. Beyond that he hadn't heard the hall door clank shut, which may have been the lucky event he would need to get out of here. |
| Practically imperfect in every way. | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Lake Victoria · Next Topic » |
| Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
4:31 AM Jul 11
|
Colorful Love Story created by sakuragi-kun of the ZBTZ








4:31 AM Jul 11