It's still an "Alternate Universe" to 24 and it starts out the same as the first one I wrote, so no, you're not suffering from déjà-vu, the Matrix has not been changed!!!
Just messing about with the characters out of their "reality" and having fun writing, so please don't shoot the messenger. Any comments will be greatly appreciated, as long as they are put in respectful ways.
Have fun!
Interrogation
techniques – Part Deux.
He was getting tired of this.
They had been at it for hours and yet the
suspect hadn’t uttered a word. Not even a sound, despite everything they had
already done to him. Even Burke wasn’t getting anywhere.
The man just simply wouldn’t talk.
He was in agony, that much was certain.
Jack lost his temper suddenly and he lashed
out, his fist colliding solidly with the man’s jaw.
More than once!
A split lip, a bloody nose and a cut brow
later, Burke managed to pull him off with the help of two guards and they
manhandled him out of the room to let him cool down. Burke went back in to keep
an eye on the suspect while the guards ‘escorted’ Jack out of the building for
some fresh air. When they finally let go of him, Jack turned, drew his gun and
shot one of them in the leg for twisting his arm that hard. He turned the gun
on the other, leveling it with his head.
“You,” he snarled, “are fired. Get the hell
out of here before I change my mind.”
The guard swallowed hard but backed away
without a word. He slipped back into the building, running into the doctor who
went out, holding something hidden behind his back.
“Jack,” he said quietly, “let me help you.”
“What with?” Jack snarled, wondering if he
should holster his weapon or not.
“To calm down. I have something that will
help.”
He took a small step forward.
Carefully.
“Will you let me help you?”
“That depends.”
The doctor brought his arm forward,
producing a can from behind his back.
“I think you could use this.”
For a long moment, Jack’s eyes remained
glued to the can, but then the doctor drew his attention away from it.
“You can have it if you promise to be
calm.”
“I promise.” Jack replied softly.
“Then put your gun away.”
He did and accepted the can.
It was cold.
Ice–cold.
He snapped it open and put it to his lips,
taking a long swig from it.
“Not too greedy, Jack,” the doctor warned,
“you know what happens when you get greedy.”
Jack emptied the can in long but slow gulps
after what he handed the empty can back to the doctor for him to ‘dispose of
the evidence’.
“This is our little secret, now isn’t it
Jack?”
He nodded.
“Now, go back inside and be a little more
civilized.”
Again he nodded.
The beer had already given him a pleasant
buzz and he felt better.
Lighter.
He went back inside and went straight into
the interrogation room.
“Burke, I wanna do this my way. Go get my kit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go!”
Burke stopped the IV and shut off his
equipment, pushed up and left the room.
“You’re gonna wish you never met me.” Jack
snarled to his suspect.
Moments later, Burke came back with a large
suitcase which he put on the table in the corner.
“What do you want to start with?” Burke
asked, opening the case.
“Sensory deprivation.” Jack stated, eyeing
his suspect.
Burke opened the case and got out of the
way as Jack pulled up a chair in front of the table.
He sat on it and rummaged through the case,
locating the goggles and headphones he needed.
He selected the music and strobe-program he
wanted to use and put the goggles on, flipping the lid open so he could still
see something. Then he put the headphones on and reached for the switch.
He eyed his prisoner again.
The cold stare was met by one of panic.
“Jack.” Burke said softly.
“Hush.”
He flicked both switches to the on position
and flipped the lid on the goggles down, letting the stroboscopic light do its
devastating work. The music screamed through the headphones and he braced.
It hurt.
Badly.
He gripped the armrests tightly, thrashing
about on the chair but unable to get away from the impulses he was subjected
to. He gasped frequently but it wasn’t until the gasps were replaced by soft
sobs and a whispered plea that the headphones and goggles came off. Eyes puffed
and red, wet with tears, ears buzzing with the remnants of the loud music.
“Talk to me!” Jack yelled to the suspect.
He got a scared look back, but no answer.
He reached for a syringe and filled it,
then walked over to the suspect and emptied the syringe into his arm.
Seconds later, the pain shot through his
body and he gasped, clutched his fists and clenched his jaws, squeezing his
eyes shut, breathing in rapid gusts.
When the pain faded, Jack got back in the
man’s face.
“Talk to me you piece of shit.”
Still no reply.
He filled the syringe again and emptied it
without hesitation.
Again the drug caused pain, practically
unbearable pain but the suspect refused to talk to him.
He was breathing hard, barely able to suck
enough oxygen into his lungs to stay conscious.
A third time, the drug was injected into
the bloodstream.
A third time, the pain gripped him and
nearly tore him apart from within.
Still no reply.
Jack couldn’t believe this guy.
He was panting and his heart was pounding
in his chest.
He was in pain, that much was certain.
But yet he refused to cooperate.
How much more would he take?
He changed his approach and picked a stun
gun next.
The upper arm always worked well.
The electric current shot through his body
and he gasped in pain, throwing his head back and clenching his teeth to keep
from crying out. When the current faded, he gasped for air, dropping his head
to his chest, breathing hard.
He was sweating which only increased the
effect of the stun gun, so Jack hit him again.
Once more, the muscles tensed and he threw
his head back in agony.
Once more, he refused to cooperate.
Jack continued, changing the location,
hitting his chest next.
He hit his chest four more times without
result.
When he turned the stun gun to his neck,
Burke moved away.
He quietly punched in a number on the phone
by the wall and hoped to god it would be answered quickly.
“Buchanan.”
“It’s Burke, I need you in interrogation
three.”
“I’m on my way.”
Burke went back to stand by Jack.
Jack hit his neck again.
The pain was impossible to bear and he
gasped in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling every muscle in his body
scream for the abuse to stop. The abuse would only stop when he started
answering the questions.
Just as he was about to hit him again, the
intercom buzzed and Bill’s voice came over the speaker.
“Jack, can I speak with you?”
Jack put the stun gun down on the table,
making sure the suspect couldn’t reach it and left the room.
He closed the door and looked up at Bill, a
little ticked off because he was being interrupted in his interrogation.
It had better be important.
“Jack, what’s going on?”
“He’s not talking to me.”
“I gathered that much.”
“I’ve tried everything I could think of,
he’s a tough one to break.”
“Jack,” Bill said quietly, “do you know why
he’s not talking to you?”
“Well … he’s a bad guy and I’m a good guy
and bad guys don’t talk to good guys.” Jack blabbered.
“No, Jack, that’s not why he’s not talking
to you.” Bill sighed.
“But …”
“Jack, the reason he’s not talking to you
…” Bill hung his head and shook it slowly, “… the torture …”
“What about it?” Jack asked, unsure of what
Bill was trying to say.
“You’re supposed to do that to him,
not to yourself.”
Jack was flabbergasted.
No wonder the guy wasn’t cooperating.
“Have you been drinking again?”
The accusation lay heavy on his voice.
Jack hardly dared to meet his eyes.
How come Bill always knew?
“Come on, let’s get you to the clinic,”
Bill sighed, “you need to lie down.”
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