The Agency P. 3(Solo)

Junko felt a stabbing pain, an IV maybe, she had no idea, she couldn’t move, but the pinprick injected fire into her veins, every pore of her body ignited, she felt steam smoking of her body. Every molecule of her body felt as if she was trying to turn itself to ash. She thought it couldn’t, hopefully it wouldn’t.

A cool voice pierced through the smoke and her molten skin… “Will you tell us what we need to know?”. Junko felt a different burn, one of cold. Two of this man’s fingers touched her chin. Shaking it side to side. Junko was limp, and couldn’t resist if she wanted to. “No?” Junko tried to resist, to say yes, anything to keep his sub-zero fingers off of her skin. “Good!” And Junko passed out, and dreamt of fire…

--

Junko awoke, she was, if not clear minded, fully fuctional as far as her senses went. Perhaps she would regret this, but she could move now, if only to struggle against her bonds. She hung from her bonds, not wasting her strength, she was strapped to a table that was vertically mounted. She was redressed from Iraq. Her dress fatigues gone, disappeared, she apparently had been bathed, as she felt clean. Her hair was wet, strands clumped over her face and came to her shoulders. Moisture collected on her paper robe, something that hardly kept her modest, she felt that it laced up from the back, and ended on her upper thigh.

The room was breezy, Accentuating the fact that she was naked beneath her robe. Nakedness she knew was a way to attack a prisoner. Just one not used or allowed by the United States, or any other damn country she knew of. This told her she was beyond the realm of legality… At least, she hoped and prayed for that to be so…

She had very little time to pray for this, or anything else. A man walked into this room. Her torture room, It had every implement of pain and suffering she could imagine. She knew which ones she truly feared, and which ones posed danger to her. The room was unnaturally clean, but after a week or two of torture, she would think that this room would be filthy beyond recognition. With bits and pieces of Junko…

“Hello Junko” A man, overweight, perhaps mid forties, walked in, his stubby hands handled a clipboard, his nonchalant mannerisms and attitude is something to be expected from a doctor doing his rounds. He was wisened, or at least not enough of a fool to look Junko in the eye. “you see, there are things that I’m not allowed to do because of human rights violations.” He now looked up from his clipboard, casually picking up a large knife. “Luckily, you’re not human!” His eyes lit up with the end of his sentence, and Junko knew he had been waiting for an opportunity like this for his entire life. A man dedicated to human misery…

Junko only got out one word before he gagged Junko, “Please…” Junko’s pleading eyes had no effect on him as he began working with his knife. Cutting her arms, legs, stomaches, hands, chest, face. Each laceration a four inch long scratch, a few millimeters in depth, Junko tried to scream, but her voice was muffled by the cloth in her throat.

Tears leaked from her eyes, her eyes squeezed shut, so she missed when he turned his back to a hose. He turned it on, and the pressure exploded from the nozzle, water bombarded her , Salt water, every orifice of her body, her wounds burned, her eyes leaked, and blood stained the floor.

Her robes had been blasted away, and as her eyes fogged, she nearly could taste the anticipation of this man of the coming days…

Corpse.

That’s what Junko appeared to be. She hadn’t been fed… in…days, weeks. She didn’t even know, she would have given anything to make this stop, if she had anything left to give. Maybe that was the point. But Junko knew she was worse for the experience. She had been… violated. Electricity was that fat man’s preferred method of pain.

He used it liberally, shocking her to the very core. Always after salt water, after… rape… After cutting, after beatings, after poison, after electrocution. She was a slave to his every whim and desire. She had absolutely no idea how long she had been here, but the floors were stained with her fluids, bile, urine, blood, sweat, tears. She had nothing left to give. In this moment of consciousness she was strapped against the table vertically, although it did adjust to horizontal…

The fat man entered, downcast. And for the first time, someone followed. The suited man. “You have told us everything we need to know, thank you for your time, If you feel the need to stay and assist us further, please, stay here and I’ll personally see to it that I help you ”, he put on a devilish smile the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. Showing her own fear in her eyes, He nodded at the fat man, who undid the bonds that had held her in place for almost 2 weeks.

The man in black opened the door, a hole of blackness that was her freedom. She tried to move, to put any weight on her own limbs, but she did what anyone would do if they were emancipated, and hadn’t moved more than a few inches in 2 weeks.

She collapsed, the world spinning under her as her head hit the ground, she was now wallowing in her own filth…

“Thank you for agreeing to stay, Mrs. Tenshi.”