No. Not again. This can't be happening. This isn't happening. My mind is my own. Mymindismyown. Mymindismyownmymindismyownmy... Flint kept repeating to himself as he was overcome with fear and repressed memories came out to haunt him. His eyes closed.
"We're losing him again. Jolt him." said the man, frustration showing in his voice. Even that was a small victory. If he had any physical strength left he would have smiled.
"Aaahhhaughn!"Electrocution brought him back from semi-consciousness. The outline of a man was there in front of the only light in this room, as he had been for...
Wait how long have I been here? Feels like days... "Please mister Westwood. You have only experienced a fraction of our capabilities. I promise you, all this will be over the moment you tell us what we need. All we need is one piece of info and you'll be released."They were using all the good old tricks. Sleep deprivation. Sensory deprivation. Beatings. Electrocution. Psychological warfare. Blackmail. Hallucinogens. The list went on and on. The torment was never ending. When his body became too damaged to go on they used electrodes to cause pain directly to his brain while they healed him.
"The people you protect do not care for you. They are abominations that are only interested in their own survival. Please, tell us what we need while there is still time, while there is still a chance for you." The interrogator leaned closer to Flint's bloodied mouth as he tried to say something. Although his face could not be seen due to the lighting, his motions betrayed his eagerness to hear his confession. The interrogator made out two soundless words:
FUCK YOU"Why mister Westwood? Why keep struggling? Do you believe you're fighting for something? Some kind of grand ideal? Is it some misguided sense of morality? Is god talking to you? Is it freedom? Is it love or friendship? Delusions mister Westwood. Feeble attempts of a failure of a man to justify his meaningless existence. Do you think you changed the world with your antics? That you've become a 'hero of the people' that will reshape hundreds of years of history? You were a news story 'The crazy old actor who went mad' for a few days and then you were forgotten. That's what you are. A forgotten failure. Why mister Westwood? Why? Why do you persist?" The interrogator was clearly angry now. He couldn't help but force a smile to his face through his ramblings. All this while they had been trying to break him but he didn't only held firm. He managed to make his interrogator, a man usually so calm and assertive angry.
"Well, it doesn't matter any longer. I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I really did. But it's out of my hands now. I tried to save you from what's coming but you were one stubborn fool. They're taking me off this case. And they're bringing in someone that has never failed." As the interrogator stood up and the door opened he understood why they wouldn't show him his face. Because the moment he caught a glimpse of it all of his anger, pain and hatred poured into it, engraving it into his memory along with a single word:
Revenge!Another figure came in.
"Oh, look! Failed again Dr. *scrambled*? How long have you been at it this time?""...18days...""What? I can't hear you.""18 fucking days! Look, I have it all under control here, if it weren't for those-""Those reports *scrambled* two more days for you to stop dicking around and get some results? Don't worry. I'll take care of everything over here. But first I'm going to have some fun..." Flint felt a spike entering his brain as the man looked at him. His body twitched and moved on its own accord as he got closer, only the outline of his face visible.
"18 days of interrogation eh? Even with our useless friend over there conducting it that's quite a feat. I know just the place to send you. After we have our fun of course, he he he." He felt the spike going deeper, changing his feelings, going for his memories...