The Glass House: Chapter Nineteen
Aug. 10th, 2008 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfanficsTitle: The Glass House
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderfulrana_narsilion <3
Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 3,901
Chapter: 19/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, violence, brainwashing, torture, implied rape
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Author's Notes II: Finally, we have the famous brainwashing sequence I wrote without realising how accurate it is, thus making me wonder where on earth I got my brain from. XD
Summary: Charles and Andrew find themselves arrested on the way back from a recon trip, and discover the military have a few surprises of their own waiting for them.
Chapter Nineteen
Charles drove into the night, leaving their last safe haven far behind, burning into the ground. Andrew was curled up next to him, fast asleep. It was late, after 2am. They needed to get home quickly. They'd managed to avoid the cops once before. Charles wasn't convinced they'd manage it again as they approached the last checkpoint into the main city. He pulled up as the cops stopped them, leaning against the car.
"Can I see some ID thanks?" one of them said.
"Sure, here you go," Charles handed over his fake ID card, hoping it cleared.
"And your mate," the cop said with spite, gesturing to Andrew asleep next to Charles.
Charles turned to Andrew, trying to wake him. "Hey, wake up, mate. Got your ID?"
Andrew grudgingly woke up, glaring at Charles as he fished out his ID and handed it over, continuing to curl up beside Charles.
The officer stepped back a touch as he consulted with his partner, checking their IDs. Charles got nervy when they started talking into their radios, though he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He didn't like the look on their faces when they approached the car again.
"Step out of the car, please. Both of you," one of them said.
Charles shoved Andrew to wake him again. "Get up, shithead."
Andrew woke and let Charles drag him out of the car. He stood there beside Charles, annoyed at not being allowed to sleep. He was counting on the trip home to catch up on the sleep he'd missed out on while they were away.
"Are you aware these IDs are fake?" the cop said.
"They're fake? No way, I swear, they're not fake," Charles said, protesting his innocence.
"That's not my problem. I'm arresting you for possession of forged documents. We're taking you into custody," the cop said, grabbing Charles' wrists as he shoved him back against the car, cuffing his hands behind his back. Andrew backed off as the other officer turned on him, almost breaking his wrist as he shoved him against the car and cuffed him.
They were shoved and pushed into the back of an Army truck, surrounded by armed soldiers. Charles glanced at Andrew. He looked terrified. Charles could do nothing for him. He was held back when he tried to get near him to comfort him. Pulled apart, they were blindfolded and drugged before the truck drove off towards the nearby army base.
Charles was left in a cold small cell, still cuffed. Andrew was thrown into a similar cell. No one came to see them until they'd woken up again. Soldiers dragged them both off to separate parts of the army base for two completely separate reasons. The cuffs were finally removed as Charles was pushed into a chair opposite an angry looking officer with a set of papers in front of him. Charles couldn't see what was on them, although he was determined not to speak. Another officer and the soldiers who brought him here hang back from the table, watching him like a hawk.
"What's your name?" the officer said.
"Sergeant David Matthews, 8th brigade," Charles said, repeating his guise.
"Bullshit. He doesn't exist. I want your real name, punk," the officer said.
"Henry Burgmann," Charles half-lied again.
"It's Charles Firth. You're a shit liar. It's a miracle you weren't caught sooner," the officer said.
"Stroke of luck," Charles conceded. If they knew who he was, what else did they know?
"I'll say. You've got quite the criminal record, Charles. How is it you've managed to avoid jail?" the officer said.
"Stroke of luck," Charles repeated, not willing to reveal anything he didn't have to.
"I think you've got friends in high places. Who's looking after you?" the officer said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Charles said.
"Sure you don't. A rich kid like you always has protection of some sort. It's how you pricks survive in the world at the expense of the rest of us," the officer said with a sneer.
"I live my own life. My family disowned me years ago," Charles said.
"Sure you do. Doesn't mean you can't afford protection. We have reason to believe you have knowledge of some sort of rebellion to take down the State, allying with those filthy mutants," the officer said.
"Oh yeah? Why would you think I knew anything about that?" Charles said, unable to avoid being a smartarse with him.
"That's classified. If you won't talk voluntarily, we'll quite happily loosen your tongue for you," the officer said with a sneer, signalling to the two soldiers to come forward.
Charles looked up at them as they approached; he was quite certain he knew exactly what was about to happen to him.
Still cuffed, Andrew found himself strapped down onto a table of some sort, or perhaps a chair, he was still too groggy to discern which one it was. He couldn't tell if he was lying flat, or if he was on an angle. His brain couldn't tell. The cuffs were removed at last once the rest of his body had been secured so they could pin his arms down. The room was bare, save for the machines surrounding the table that looked like medical equipment. It was all he saw before he was blindfolded with something thick that seemed to block everything out. Whatever they were, they felt quite heavy. He thought there might be others in the room with him, whispering in hushed voices, doing things to him. He wasn't sure if he was even still wearing clothes or not. Something was placed on his head and strapped down. It bit into his temples, and his ears were blocked with what could've been earphones of some description. His already screwed sense of balance was even more screwed. Andrew would have cried out were it not for the gag preventing him from speaking. He wasn't aware of the drip attached to one arm, nor of the clear liquid they injected into him.
Andrew's body stung with pain. Dizziness set in. The room was flooded with darkness. White noise filled the air, screeching in pain. Andrew wanted to scream again. The noise was hurting his head. He tried to break out of his restraints, but he was too weak.
A soft voice whispering in his ear shocked him out of his dizziness.
'You will take him,' it commanded quietly.
Andrew panicked, not sure what it was referring to, nor who was speaking. He wanted to answer, but the gag held him in silence. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, which didn't help his panic at all.
'Your friend, the one with wings. The selfish one. The childish one. The one who makes you jealous, steals what is yours,' the voice whispered.
Craig? W-what's this got to do with Craig? Andrew had nothing but thoughts now. Who are you?
'We are the pretty ones. We look after lost souls like you. But not your friend. Oh no. Craig's been naughty. He must be punished. He tells you lies. He mustn't be allowed to live. Bring him to us. Bring him to us and be safe,' the voice whispered, picking the name out of his head.
Andrew whimpered, scared of the voice in his head. Was it real? Was it all an illusion, a hallucination? How was it able to read his thoughts?
'We are as real as you are. We are the pretty ones. We are your only saviour now. Take him. Bring him to us. You will be rewarded,' the voice said, slowly breaking down his resolve.
Why? He's my friend. I won't betray him.
'Yes, you will. You have no other choice. You will do as we say, or you will be punished,' the voice threatened.
No. I won't betray him. I would sooner die than betray him.
'Your wish is our command,' the voice said harshly.
The white noise increased in volume, screeching inside Andrew's head. Andrew's cries of pain were muffled. He struggled against the restraints, terrified of the pain coursing through his body as if he was being electrocuted.
It was unrelenting, coming in short bursts with no regular timing, never giving him time to get used to it. Just as the pain faded away, it came back again. Andrew couldn't think. He didn't know how to make it stop, nor did he have a voice to stop it. The one voice that came to his aid was of no comfort to him at all.
"The cops don't torture humans," came Craig's voice into his head.
How I wish you were right, Craig.
Craig's not-so-comforting words were blasted away as the pain flared up again. Andrew was sure he was being killed, albeit slowly, for refusing to do what the voice asked him to do. He could do nothing to stop them. Maybe he should just give in and die rather than betray his friends. Maybe it would stop the pain. He closed his eyes and let go, hoping for peace.
Beaten and sore, Charles was dragged back into the cold metal seat for another round of questioning. One of the soldiers firmly held him down with a hand on his shoulder, making sure he knew he'd be beaten again if he didn't answer their questions.
"Now let's see how stubborn you are," the officer said, sitting back. "State your name for the record."
"No comment," Charles said through his teeth.
The soldier by his side punched Charles' face hard. "Answer him!"
"Fuck you," Charles said, refusing to speak.
"Do you know what I hate? Deserters. I'm gonna slit your throat for your abhorrent disregard for duty," the officer said, getting to his feet.
"If you'd seen what I saw, you'd have deserted too. I don't regret it for a moment," Charles said.
"There is no excuse for deserting. You're a traitor to that uniform. How dare you still wear it. It's time you faced your punishment at last," the officer said, whacking Charles across the face, clearly disgusted by his presence.
Charles didn't bother responding. He knew he'd deserted. Clearly, he knew everything about him and his past. Charles said nothing as he was pulled to his feet and held down, pressed down against the table. He was determined to die before he would betray the rebellion. If that meant being beaten, tortured and raped, so be it. If it saved them finding out about them, it was worth it.
Andrew was exhausted. The unrelenting pain was wearing him down. His muscles ached, his head ached, still dizzy and tired. He was ready to give in, even if his mind wasn't capable of making such a rational decision.
'You will obey us. You will take him. You will take him and hide away and wait to contact us. Bring him to us and you will be rewarded,' the voice suggested, returning to flood his tired brain with its commands.
Yes.
He was too tired to resist now.
'You are wise to obey us. You will be rewarded,' the voice said.
The white noise quietened in his head. Cold hands removed the gag, although he was still bound tightly. The blindfold wasn't removed.
'Drink. You will need your strength,' the voice commands as a cup is raised to Andrew's lips, spilling cool liquid down his throat.
Andrew drinks gratefully, desperate for this to end. The voice made it clear it wouldn't hurt him if he co-operated. Maybe that's all he needed to do to get out of here alive.
'This place. You will take him here. Lock him away, shut him away, and wait for us,' the voice commanded.
The voice showed him where to go, showing his mind the cave where he was to take Craig. It showed him the route he was to take.
"Why… why am I doing this again?" Andrew whispered.
'Because we need him back. He's ours. He belongs to us. You will bring him to us,' the voice said.
"I… w-will bring… him…" Andrew's words were uncertain, questioning still the reasons behind this.
'You will bring him, or you will not leave this room alive,' the voice threatened.
Andrew whimpered again, not sure he wanted to find out how the voice would kill him. "I will - bring him," he said, more certain of his agreement if only to save his own skin.
'Good boy. Now, sleep, you are tired and need your strength. Soon, you will be free,' the voice promised, purring into his ears.
Andrew was overcome with tiredness, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, letting the voice soothe him and calm his fears. It was almost as if the voice was caressing his body gently, taking the pain away, giving him relief at last. At the very least, that was what it felt like. Andrew was in no state to work out what was real and what wasn't. All he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't even notice the same cold hands replacing the gag again as he drifted off to sleep.
Charles remained resolutely disobedient. No amount of beating would make him speak. He sat across from the officer questioning him, defiant in spite of their efforts to make him talk. He was bruised, beaten and sore, but he didn't care. He would die before he would give up the rebellion. The officer was driven to the point of utter frustration by his defiance at his continued refusal to answer his questions and his lack of regret from deserting. This officer took particular umbrage at his desertion more than anything else.
"You! Go see if they've finished with his friend. If they have, bring him in here and see if he'll talk then," the officer said. He'd gone through their questions yet again, and Charles refused to answer him. It was time to use blackmail. If that didn't produce a result, nothing would.
Charles tried not to react. The implication that they'd done something to Andrew scared him. What if he wasn't as stubborn as he was? Would he talk? Charles tried not to dwell on it as he waited.
The soldier the officer addressed left the room to fetch Andrew. Charles sat there and tried not to show his fear.
Andrew slept, that little voice whispering to him words of cruelty and betrayal, making him dream what it wanted him to dream about. He was still restrained, and he fought against the bonds as he struggled in his sleep, muttering quiet words of surrender.
The soldier had arrived. He watched Andrew sleep, unconcerned at his suffering. "Is he ready yet, ma'am?"
"Not yet. The programming isn't complete," said the soldier in charge of the operation.
"How long?"
"Twelve hours at the very least. It really needs to sink into his subconscious. This does not happen in half an hour in spite of what an excellent canditate for this he is. Go tell your superior he can have him when he's ready and not a moment sooner," the soldier said, making it clear her orders would be obeyed.
"Yes ma'am," the soldier said, saluting her before he turned and left.
Andrew slept on, oblivious to their conversation around him, eyes rapidly moving under his lids as the voice told him what he was supposed to do.
"The subject isn't ready yet, sir," the soldier said, returning to the interrogation room where Charles was.
"Take him back to his cell. We'll finish this later," the officer said. "You stay. Give me a report. You two, get him out of here."
Charles was grabbed by the arms and dragged away. He didn't bother protesting. The soldier sent to fetch Andrew remained behind.
"How long?" the officer asked once the room was empty.
"Twelve hours minimum. Her orders, sir," the soldier said.
The officer sighed. "Alright then. If that's what it'll take to make it work. This may be our best chance to get them. I'm not giving up now," he said.
The soldier in charge of Andrew's programming peered at his still figure. She had never had such a willing and pliable subject before. The pretty ones she served had suggested him as a perfect host for them. When she'd looked into his history, she had to agree. What the pretty ones had planned made him the perfect candidate for them. He had the necessary experience, skills and personality to pull it off successfully. Even now, they whispered their approval as they corrupted Andrew's mind.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, do you need me further?"
She startled as one of the soldiers she was in charge of interrupted her. "Hmm? Oh, no, not for the moment," she said.
"Can I break for ten?" the soldier asked.
"Oh, yeah, sure. But bring me a coffee first, will you?" she said.
"Yes, Ma'am." The soldier saluted and left to fetch coffee, understanding what she meant by her words.
Alone again, she returned to her gazing. She walked around him, brushing her fingers against his arm, watching how he flinched at the stimulation.
"You're very pretty, you are. The pretty ones made a good choice with you, my pet. May I play with him? I think he needs to be played with," she said quietly.
She trailed her fingers up and down his chest, drawing circles. She watched for his reactions as she caressed his skin, wondering how long she could control herself before she had to have her way with him. The pretty ones didn't often let her fuck her subjects, but they gave such energy to it that she was getting quite addicted to it. She found it quite perverse, but thankfully, her assistants knew to keep quiet about it, otherwise her experiments would be shut down and she'd be discharged.
She slid her coat off as she walked over to the door to lock it. She entered a code into the number pad next to the light switch that shut off the cameras watching her. A smirk of satisfaction on her lips as she returned to his side, brushing her fingers along his arm again. Andrew flinched in his sleep, but didn't wake. Satisfied he could feel her touch, even if he couldn't wake from his sleep, she continued, testing his reactions as she moved her fingers from his arm to his chest and down between his legs, softly caressing his skin.
Charles was given a meagre meal before being left alone in his cell to wait. There was no mention of how long he would be there for, nor if Andrew was alright. He'd just have to sit it out and wait and hope they were both released alive. Charles was convinced their arrest was not a coincidence now. They had something planned, he just didn't know what.
Half-satisfied by the food he'd been given, he curled up stiffly on the poor excuse of a bed to try and get some sleep. What else was there to do?
'Wake, child, wake at last. It's time to begin your work. Remember, speak of this to no one. We will know if you've told, and then, you will plead for death by the time we're through with you,' the voice said, bringing Andrew out of his deep sleep.
Tired and groggy, Andrew woke. His body felt numb. He couldn't see anything. Hands appeared to be tending to him, though what they were doing he couldn't tell. He was being lifted off whatever he'd been lying on and placed down onto something else. He felt incredibly weak. He registered nothing around him as he was wheeled away into another room.
The room was as bare as the last one and filled with similar equipment. Now he noticed people, although their faces were vague. Perhaps they were nurses. They lifted him onto something, making him sit up as they examined him. They were talking, although he didn't know what they were saying.
All he could think of was the cave. It was a fixed image in his mind. He had to go there when he was free, because he was sure he would be free, and he knew what he had to do to get there. Nothing else filled his mind. He'd forgotten about Charles, of the rebellion, of everything else except his mission.
'Forget, forget! You know what to do. The pretty ones will call you when you are needed. For now, nothing has happened. All you want is to go home with your Charles,' the voice said, still commanding his obedience, though Andrew still couldn't work out where it was coming from now that he didn't have the headpiece on.
"M-My Charles?" Andrew breathed, tentative, unsure what the voice meant as the cave faded from view, waiting to be triggered.
'Your Charles misses you. He will take you home and look after you. No one else matters,' the voice said.
"My Charles. No one else matters," Andrew murmurs.
The other people in the room didn't seem to notice his muttering as they made sure he was alright. He ate the meal they gave him without question, unable to think, to function, properly.
They didn't bother restraining him again when they took him away from the room. They were almost gentle about it, escorting him through many winding identical corridors until they stopped outside a guarded room.
"Is this the one?" one of the soldiers said.
"Yes. We're expected," one of the people escorting Andrew said.
The soldier nods to the other and opens the door for them. Andrew finds himself thrust inside the room, the door shut behind him. Unsupported, Andrew sunk to the floor, his knees unable to hold his weight.
They'd made sure Charles could see Andrew being brought to them. Charles couldn't help running to him, cradling him in his arms. Andrew had started shaking, and his skin felt very cold. In spite of his shivering, he's unaware that he's naked, just that he's very cold and in need of his Charles to comfort him. The soldiers advanced on them. Charles shielded him as best he could, not wanting them to hurt him.
"Get up, both of you," one of the soldiers ordered.
Charles grabbed onto Andrew and lifted him up as he struggled to his feet. It was clear Andrew couldn't stand. He'd have to carry him. Andrew latched onto him weakly, barely managing to hang on as Charles manoeuvred him in his arms so he was carrying him comfortably.
"Get out of here. Move! You'd better behave yourselves. We'll be watching you closely," said the officer who'd been interrogating Charles.
Charles didn't doubt him. He carried Andrew out as best he could. He was escorted out of the base and back to his truck that had been driven to the base by one of the soldiers. Charles managed to get Andrew into the truck, although he still hadn't spoken a word.
"Andrew? You alright, mate?" Charles said as he got in the truck and prepared to drive off.
Andrew didn't reply. Instead, he curled up against the seat, pulling a blanket around him. Andrew tried to speak, but his voice refused.
"Shit. Come on, let's get you out of here," Charles said, starting up the truck and speeding off into the night.
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderful
rana_narsilion <3Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 3,901
Chapter: 19/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, violence, brainwashing, torture, implied rape
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Author's Notes II: Finally, we have the famous brainwashing sequence I wrote without realising how accurate it is, thus making me wonder where on earth I got my brain from. XD
Summary: Charles and Andrew find themselves arrested on the way back from a recon trip, and discover the military have a few surprises of their own waiting for them.
Chapter Nineteen
Charles drove into the night, leaving their last safe haven far behind, burning into the ground. Andrew was curled up next to him, fast asleep. It was late, after 2am. They needed to get home quickly. They'd managed to avoid the cops once before. Charles wasn't convinced they'd manage it again as they approached the last checkpoint into the main city. He pulled up as the cops stopped them, leaning against the car.
"Can I see some ID thanks?" one of them said.
"Sure, here you go," Charles handed over his fake ID card, hoping it cleared.
"And your mate," the cop said with spite, gesturing to Andrew asleep next to Charles.
Charles turned to Andrew, trying to wake him. "Hey, wake up, mate. Got your ID?"
Andrew grudgingly woke up, glaring at Charles as he fished out his ID and handed it over, continuing to curl up beside Charles.
The officer stepped back a touch as he consulted with his partner, checking their IDs. Charles got nervy when they started talking into their radios, though he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He didn't like the look on their faces when they approached the car again.
"Step out of the car, please. Both of you," one of them said.
Charles shoved Andrew to wake him again. "Get up, shithead."
Andrew woke and let Charles drag him out of the car. He stood there beside Charles, annoyed at not being allowed to sleep. He was counting on the trip home to catch up on the sleep he'd missed out on while they were away.
"Are you aware these IDs are fake?" the cop said.
"They're fake? No way, I swear, they're not fake," Charles said, protesting his innocence.
"That's not my problem. I'm arresting you for possession of forged documents. We're taking you into custody," the cop said, grabbing Charles' wrists as he shoved him back against the car, cuffing his hands behind his back. Andrew backed off as the other officer turned on him, almost breaking his wrist as he shoved him against the car and cuffed him.
They were shoved and pushed into the back of an Army truck, surrounded by armed soldiers. Charles glanced at Andrew. He looked terrified. Charles could do nothing for him. He was held back when he tried to get near him to comfort him. Pulled apart, they were blindfolded and drugged before the truck drove off towards the nearby army base.
Charles was left in a cold small cell, still cuffed. Andrew was thrown into a similar cell. No one came to see them until they'd woken up again. Soldiers dragged them both off to separate parts of the army base for two completely separate reasons. The cuffs were finally removed as Charles was pushed into a chair opposite an angry looking officer with a set of papers in front of him. Charles couldn't see what was on them, although he was determined not to speak. Another officer and the soldiers who brought him here hang back from the table, watching him like a hawk.
"What's your name?" the officer said.
"Sergeant David Matthews, 8th brigade," Charles said, repeating his guise.
"Bullshit. He doesn't exist. I want your real name, punk," the officer said.
"Henry Burgmann," Charles half-lied again.
"It's Charles Firth. You're a shit liar. It's a miracle you weren't caught sooner," the officer said.
"Stroke of luck," Charles conceded. If they knew who he was, what else did they know?
"I'll say. You've got quite the criminal record, Charles. How is it you've managed to avoid jail?" the officer said.
"Stroke of luck," Charles repeated, not willing to reveal anything he didn't have to.
"I think you've got friends in high places. Who's looking after you?" the officer said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Charles said.
"Sure you don't. A rich kid like you always has protection of some sort. It's how you pricks survive in the world at the expense of the rest of us," the officer said with a sneer.
"I live my own life. My family disowned me years ago," Charles said.
"Sure you do. Doesn't mean you can't afford protection. We have reason to believe you have knowledge of some sort of rebellion to take down the State, allying with those filthy mutants," the officer said.
"Oh yeah? Why would you think I knew anything about that?" Charles said, unable to avoid being a smartarse with him.
"That's classified. If you won't talk voluntarily, we'll quite happily loosen your tongue for you," the officer said with a sneer, signalling to the two soldiers to come forward.
Charles looked up at them as they approached; he was quite certain he knew exactly what was about to happen to him.
Still cuffed, Andrew found himself strapped down onto a table of some sort, or perhaps a chair, he was still too groggy to discern which one it was. He couldn't tell if he was lying flat, or if he was on an angle. His brain couldn't tell. The cuffs were removed at last once the rest of his body had been secured so they could pin his arms down. The room was bare, save for the machines surrounding the table that looked like medical equipment. It was all he saw before he was blindfolded with something thick that seemed to block everything out. Whatever they were, they felt quite heavy. He thought there might be others in the room with him, whispering in hushed voices, doing things to him. He wasn't sure if he was even still wearing clothes or not. Something was placed on his head and strapped down. It bit into his temples, and his ears were blocked with what could've been earphones of some description. His already screwed sense of balance was even more screwed. Andrew would have cried out were it not for the gag preventing him from speaking. He wasn't aware of the drip attached to one arm, nor of the clear liquid they injected into him.
Andrew's body stung with pain. Dizziness set in. The room was flooded with darkness. White noise filled the air, screeching in pain. Andrew wanted to scream again. The noise was hurting his head. He tried to break out of his restraints, but he was too weak.
A soft voice whispering in his ear shocked him out of his dizziness.
'You will take him,' it commanded quietly.
Andrew panicked, not sure what it was referring to, nor who was speaking. He wanted to answer, but the gag held him in silence. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, which didn't help his panic at all.
'Your friend, the one with wings. The selfish one. The childish one. The one who makes you jealous, steals what is yours,' the voice whispered.
Craig? W-what's this got to do with Craig? Andrew had nothing but thoughts now. Who are you?
'We are the pretty ones. We look after lost souls like you. But not your friend. Oh no. Craig's been naughty. He must be punished. He tells you lies. He mustn't be allowed to live. Bring him to us. Bring him to us and be safe,' the voice whispered, picking the name out of his head.
Andrew whimpered, scared of the voice in his head. Was it real? Was it all an illusion, a hallucination? How was it able to read his thoughts?
'We are as real as you are. We are the pretty ones. We are your only saviour now. Take him. Bring him to us. You will be rewarded,' the voice said, slowly breaking down his resolve.
Why? He's my friend. I won't betray him.
'Yes, you will. You have no other choice. You will do as we say, or you will be punished,' the voice threatened.
No. I won't betray him. I would sooner die than betray him.
'Your wish is our command,' the voice said harshly.
The white noise increased in volume, screeching inside Andrew's head. Andrew's cries of pain were muffled. He struggled against the restraints, terrified of the pain coursing through his body as if he was being electrocuted.
It was unrelenting, coming in short bursts with no regular timing, never giving him time to get used to it. Just as the pain faded away, it came back again. Andrew couldn't think. He didn't know how to make it stop, nor did he have a voice to stop it. The one voice that came to his aid was of no comfort to him at all.
"The cops don't torture humans," came Craig's voice into his head.
How I wish you were right, Craig.
Craig's not-so-comforting words were blasted away as the pain flared up again. Andrew was sure he was being killed, albeit slowly, for refusing to do what the voice asked him to do. He could do nothing to stop them. Maybe he should just give in and die rather than betray his friends. Maybe it would stop the pain. He closed his eyes and let go, hoping for peace.
Beaten and sore, Charles was dragged back into the cold metal seat for another round of questioning. One of the soldiers firmly held him down with a hand on his shoulder, making sure he knew he'd be beaten again if he didn't answer their questions.
"Now let's see how stubborn you are," the officer said, sitting back. "State your name for the record."
"No comment," Charles said through his teeth.
The soldier by his side punched Charles' face hard. "Answer him!"
"Fuck you," Charles said, refusing to speak.
"Do you know what I hate? Deserters. I'm gonna slit your throat for your abhorrent disregard for duty," the officer said, getting to his feet.
"If you'd seen what I saw, you'd have deserted too. I don't regret it for a moment," Charles said.
"There is no excuse for deserting. You're a traitor to that uniform. How dare you still wear it. It's time you faced your punishment at last," the officer said, whacking Charles across the face, clearly disgusted by his presence.
Charles didn't bother responding. He knew he'd deserted. Clearly, he knew everything about him and his past. Charles said nothing as he was pulled to his feet and held down, pressed down against the table. He was determined to die before he would betray the rebellion. If that meant being beaten, tortured and raped, so be it. If it saved them finding out about them, it was worth it.
Andrew was exhausted. The unrelenting pain was wearing him down. His muscles ached, his head ached, still dizzy and tired. He was ready to give in, even if his mind wasn't capable of making such a rational decision.
'You will obey us. You will take him. You will take him and hide away and wait to contact us. Bring him to us and you will be rewarded,' the voice suggested, returning to flood his tired brain with its commands.
Yes.
He was too tired to resist now.
'You are wise to obey us. You will be rewarded,' the voice said.
The white noise quietened in his head. Cold hands removed the gag, although he was still bound tightly. The blindfold wasn't removed.
'Drink. You will need your strength,' the voice commands as a cup is raised to Andrew's lips, spilling cool liquid down his throat.
Andrew drinks gratefully, desperate for this to end. The voice made it clear it wouldn't hurt him if he co-operated. Maybe that's all he needed to do to get out of here alive.
'This place. You will take him here. Lock him away, shut him away, and wait for us,' the voice commanded.
The voice showed him where to go, showing his mind the cave where he was to take Craig. It showed him the route he was to take.
"Why… why am I doing this again?" Andrew whispered.
'Because we need him back. He's ours. He belongs to us. You will bring him to us,' the voice said.
"I… w-will bring… him…" Andrew's words were uncertain, questioning still the reasons behind this.
'You will bring him, or you will not leave this room alive,' the voice threatened.
Andrew whimpered again, not sure he wanted to find out how the voice would kill him. "I will - bring him," he said, more certain of his agreement if only to save his own skin.
'Good boy. Now, sleep, you are tired and need your strength. Soon, you will be free,' the voice promised, purring into his ears.
Andrew was overcome with tiredness, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, letting the voice soothe him and calm his fears. It was almost as if the voice was caressing his body gently, taking the pain away, giving him relief at last. At the very least, that was what it felt like. Andrew was in no state to work out what was real and what wasn't. All he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't even notice the same cold hands replacing the gag again as he drifted off to sleep.
Charles remained resolutely disobedient. No amount of beating would make him speak. He sat across from the officer questioning him, defiant in spite of their efforts to make him talk. He was bruised, beaten and sore, but he didn't care. He would die before he would give up the rebellion. The officer was driven to the point of utter frustration by his defiance at his continued refusal to answer his questions and his lack of regret from deserting. This officer took particular umbrage at his desertion more than anything else.
"You! Go see if they've finished with his friend. If they have, bring him in here and see if he'll talk then," the officer said. He'd gone through their questions yet again, and Charles refused to answer him. It was time to use blackmail. If that didn't produce a result, nothing would.
Charles tried not to react. The implication that they'd done something to Andrew scared him. What if he wasn't as stubborn as he was? Would he talk? Charles tried not to dwell on it as he waited.
The soldier the officer addressed left the room to fetch Andrew. Charles sat there and tried not to show his fear.
Andrew slept, that little voice whispering to him words of cruelty and betrayal, making him dream what it wanted him to dream about. He was still restrained, and he fought against the bonds as he struggled in his sleep, muttering quiet words of surrender.
The soldier had arrived. He watched Andrew sleep, unconcerned at his suffering. "Is he ready yet, ma'am?"
"Not yet. The programming isn't complete," said the soldier in charge of the operation.
"How long?"
"Twelve hours at the very least. It really needs to sink into his subconscious. This does not happen in half an hour in spite of what an excellent canditate for this he is. Go tell your superior he can have him when he's ready and not a moment sooner," the soldier said, making it clear her orders would be obeyed.
"Yes ma'am," the soldier said, saluting her before he turned and left.
Andrew slept on, oblivious to their conversation around him, eyes rapidly moving under his lids as the voice told him what he was supposed to do.
"The subject isn't ready yet, sir," the soldier said, returning to the interrogation room where Charles was.
"Take him back to his cell. We'll finish this later," the officer said. "You stay. Give me a report. You two, get him out of here."
Charles was grabbed by the arms and dragged away. He didn't bother protesting. The soldier sent to fetch Andrew remained behind.
"How long?" the officer asked once the room was empty.
"Twelve hours minimum. Her orders, sir," the soldier said.
The officer sighed. "Alright then. If that's what it'll take to make it work. This may be our best chance to get them. I'm not giving up now," he said.
The soldier in charge of Andrew's programming peered at his still figure. She had never had such a willing and pliable subject before. The pretty ones she served had suggested him as a perfect host for them. When she'd looked into his history, she had to agree. What the pretty ones had planned made him the perfect candidate for them. He had the necessary experience, skills and personality to pull it off successfully. Even now, they whispered their approval as they corrupted Andrew's mind.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, do you need me further?"
She startled as one of the soldiers she was in charge of interrupted her. "Hmm? Oh, no, not for the moment," she said.
"Can I break for ten?" the soldier asked.
"Oh, yeah, sure. But bring me a coffee first, will you?" she said.
"Yes, Ma'am." The soldier saluted and left to fetch coffee, understanding what she meant by her words.
Alone again, she returned to her gazing. She walked around him, brushing her fingers against his arm, watching how he flinched at the stimulation.
"You're very pretty, you are. The pretty ones made a good choice with you, my pet. May I play with him? I think he needs to be played with," she said quietly.
She trailed her fingers up and down his chest, drawing circles. She watched for his reactions as she caressed his skin, wondering how long she could control herself before she had to have her way with him. The pretty ones didn't often let her fuck her subjects, but they gave such energy to it that she was getting quite addicted to it. She found it quite perverse, but thankfully, her assistants knew to keep quiet about it, otherwise her experiments would be shut down and she'd be discharged.
She slid her coat off as she walked over to the door to lock it. She entered a code into the number pad next to the light switch that shut off the cameras watching her. A smirk of satisfaction on her lips as she returned to his side, brushing her fingers along his arm again. Andrew flinched in his sleep, but didn't wake. Satisfied he could feel her touch, even if he couldn't wake from his sleep, she continued, testing his reactions as she moved her fingers from his arm to his chest and down between his legs, softly caressing his skin.
Charles was given a meagre meal before being left alone in his cell to wait. There was no mention of how long he would be there for, nor if Andrew was alright. He'd just have to sit it out and wait and hope they were both released alive. Charles was convinced their arrest was not a coincidence now. They had something planned, he just didn't know what.
Half-satisfied by the food he'd been given, he curled up stiffly on the poor excuse of a bed to try and get some sleep. What else was there to do?
'Wake, child, wake at last. It's time to begin your work. Remember, speak of this to no one. We will know if you've told, and then, you will plead for death by the time we're through with you,' the voice said, bringing Andrew out of his deep sleep.
Tired and groggy, Andrew woke. His body felt numb. He couldn't see anything. Hands appeared to be tending to him, though what they were doing he couldn't tell. He was being lifted off whatever he'd been lying on and placed down onto something else. He felt incredibly weak. He registered nothing around him as he was wheeled away into another room.
The room was as bare as the last one and filled with similar equipment. Now he noticed people, although their faces were vague. Perhaps they were nurses. They lifted him onto something, making him sit up as they examined him. They were talking, although he didn't know what they were saying.
All he could think of was the cave. It was a fixed image in his mind. He had to go there when he was free, because he was sure he would be free, and he knew what he had to do to get there. Nothing else filled his mind. He'd forgotten about Charles, of the rebellion, of everything else except his mission.
'Forget, forget! You know what to do. The pretty ones will call you when you are needed. For now, nothing has happened. All you want is to go home with your Charles,' the voice said, still commanding his obedience, though Andrew still couldn't work out where it was coming from now that he didn't have the headpiece on.
"M-My Charles?" Andrew breathed, tentative, unsure what the voice meant as the cave faded from view, waiting to be triggered.
'Your Charles misses you. He will take you home and look after you. No one else matters,' the voice said.
"My Charles. No one else matters," Andrew murmurs.
The other people in the room didn't seem to notice his muttering as they made sure he was alright. He ate the meal they gave him without question, unable to think, to function, properly.
They didn't bother restraining him again when they took him away from the room. They were almost gentle about it, escorting him through many winding identical corridors until they stopped outside a guarded room.
"Is this the one?" one of the soldiers said.
"Yes. We're expected," one of the people escorting Andrew said.
The soldier nods to the other and opens the door for them. Andrew finds himself thrust inside the room, the door shut behind him. Unsupported, Andrew sunk to the floor, his knees unable to hold his weight.
They'd made sure Charles could see Andrew being brought to them. Charles couldn't help running to him, cradling him in his arms. Andrew had started shaking, and his skin felt very cold. In spite of his shivering, he's unaware that he's naked, just that he's very cold and in need of his Charles to comfort him. The soldiers advanced on them. Charles shielded him as best he could, not wanting them to hurt him.
"Get up, both of you," one of the soldiers ordered.
Charles grabbed onto Andrew and lifted him up as he struggled to his feet. It was clear Andrew couldn't stand. He'd have to carry him. Andrew latched onto him weakly, barely managing to hang on as Charles manoeuvred him in his arms so he was carrying him comfortably.
"Get out of here. Move! You'd better behave yourselves. We'll be watching you closely," said the officer who'd been interrogating Charles.
Charles didn't doubt him. He carried Andrew out as best he could. He was escorted out of the base and back to his truck that had been driven to the base by one of the soldiers. Charles managed to get Andrew into the truck, although he still hadn't spoken a word.
"Andrew? You alright, mate?" Charles said as he got in the truck and prepared to drive off.
Andrew didn't reply. Instead, he curled up against the seat, pulling a blanket around him. Andrew tried to speak, but his voice refused.
"Shit. Come on, let's get you out of here," Charles said, starting up the truck and speeding off into the night.