Metamorphosis Part 3
Zechs laid on his side against a damp wall, inside a windowless room, somewhere in the center of the Security's makeshift holding area. In this case "somewhere" was the best description for his exact location since he had been semi-conscious when the guards roughly "escorted" him through the door.
*********
Flashback
Zechs' state of half-awareness began in Commander Rico's office as three over-zealous Captains, at the Commander's pleasure, took their hatred of the OZ traitor and turned it into a thorough beating.
The next step in losing more of his physical soundness and much of his mental coherency was Zechs' stop at the interrogation center that Security conveniently shared with the medical labs.
"Convenient" being the catch word because no questioning was done without the generous usage of one or more potent synthetic drugs combined with artificial stimulus and painful mind-warping techniques.
Have the afore mentioned "forms of persuasion" administered by specially trained, skillfully proficient Manipulators, add enthusiastic Med-Techs and it was no surprise that a large number of liberated prisoners couldn't remember their own names.
OZ's Rebel "turncoat" laid on his back on a clinically cold metal examination table. Zechs' nude body was secured in an overextended spread-eagle posture by leather straps attached around his wrists and ankles
Several Techs stood at a monitor station manning an assortment of electrical equipment. Probe patches, attached at various critical locations on Zechs' body, sent Function-Feedback Data directly to the main computer.
The patches also served as contact points for whatever brand of misery the "brain benders" wished to dispense. An IV line secured in his arm issued a steady dose of whatever "drug cocktail" that the Med-Techs had added to their horrendous menu.
At least two hours had passed but after the first thirty minutes Zechs had lost all comprehension of time. A tacky film clouded his eyes blurring the overhead light panel's glare into an opaque haze. The same distortion gave vague misrepresentations to his surroundings.
A foggy figure leaned over checking an electrode probe attached in an uncomfortably close proximity to Zechs' exposed crotch. The female technician, noticing his shock-induced erection, laughed then commented to everyone within hearing range just how well the muscular pilot's anatomy was "hung". But Zechs' dazed senses didn't register the female's flattery as each word broke apart, splintering into indistinguishable bits of noise.
What made the rebel Ace's shame and agony even more difficult to bear was that no one seemed interested in asking any questions. Clearly the purpose of Zechs' torture had nothing to do with interrogation. No, the Manipulator's exuberant indulgence in the barbaric savagery was done solely for their own brutish pleasure.
As each electrified jolt coursed through his fettered limbs, Zechs' writhing body drew up against the raw anguish. Leather straps dug into his wrists and ankles leaving bloodied lines and deep bruises.
Each time Zechs felt as though his distended joints were about to pop the surging current would abruptly stop causing him to go limp. The sudden relaxation was just as excruciatingly painful.
But through all the torment the proud Heir to the Sanc Kingdom did not cry out. If his silence was all he could control, was all that remained of his dignity, then Zechs Merquise would be damned if OZ would break his mute defiance.
Struggling to catch his breath, Zechs was quickly being overcome by hyperventilation. Not one inch of his nakedness was dry. Sweat glistened on his pallid skin soaking his silver mane well pass the hairline. Secondary seizures from muscle tension, short-circuited nerves and evaporative chills made the tortured prisoner shiver violently. He clenched his teeth fighting the electrical discharge's residual aftereffects.
The Med-Techs had performed their duty with cold-bloodied expert efficiency. No matter how hard Zechs tried to force himself to pass out the carefully managed drug dosages produced an effectual combination to keep their "prey" passively submissive, yet alert enough to experience every awful moment.
Then, without warning, the harrowing episode ended. Patches were ripped away, the IV removed. Arms and legs freed. Still Zechs couldn't move. His pain-racked frame was frozen in a stress-locked embrace.
Zechs needed time, just few moments, to ease into some state of recovery. Just a few merciful moments. However, the impatient Security guard was not inclined to grant his prisoner's requested recuperative moments.
"GET UP!" the guard exclaimed grabbing Zechs' arm and giving it a wrenching jerk.
A horrid, nauseous wave raced over bringing on another bout of cold sweat. Zechs quivered from faintness and oddly, for the first time, fear as the thought that his deadened legs might never move again stabbed at his mind.
The trembling shudder must have stirred the blood flow. A thousand prickling barbs spiked through Zechs' flesh. Gradually warmth returned to his numb extremities. With great effort Zechs pulled in his knees. With the same labored struggle, he sat up flopping still heavy legs over the table's side.
The guard jerked again, "Come on you rebel bastard, I don't have all day to waste."
Zechs could do nothing more than ease down on the cold, dirty floor. In his natural condition the room's air-flow turned icy on his moist skin causing another shiver to course from the inside out.
The hostile watcher gathered a bundle from a nearby counter tossing Zechs' clothes and boots on the floor beside the table. "Get dressed!" he hissed.
As Zechs started to dress he bowed his head letting stringy, unkempt hair shield his face from the guard's sight. Certain that his long locks offered a small measure of privacy the Epyon pilot gave into his utter exhaustion. Tears streaked down pale cheeks. His breathing pounded hard as Zechs fought to hide the seizing sobs from the watcher's intrusive gaze.
A heartsick pang tore at the very core of Zechs' soul as he truly understood what Duo must have endured and realized it was a miracle that young man was alive.
"Duo." he whispered his heart finally breaking altogether. "Why?"
End flashback
*********
Despite Zechs' torturous encounter he had been spared the worse of the Manipulator's "brain bending". The partial reprieve did not reflect some merciful gesture but practical common sense. He would be of little use for OZ's propaganda purposes if all he could do was stare blankly and drool. They wanted more than an obedient drone.
If Zechs' mind was mush, if the great Lightning Baron was unable to comprehend his humiliation, it would also deprive his captors of their enjoyment of his complete degradation. In that case he would quickly outlive his usefulness and both the pardon and the Rogue Ace would be immediately terminated with Commander Rico's blessing.
Without the continued medicative reinforcement, Zechs' drugged stupor was rapidly wearing off. The synthetic narcotic's potency had helped mask not only the ill-affects of his recent abuse but the injurious aftermath of the Commander's Captain's beating as well. The rapid withdrawal sent another nauseous wave crashing through Zechs' insides.
His head felt heavy, clogged with cobwebs. A dull throbbing began behind both eyes gathering with vigorous force at his crown. His right eye's vision was dimmer than it should be. Zechs hoped the haziness was from the puffy swelling and would not be permanent.
Shallow intakes of air was all his aching ribcage would permit. Any attempt at a full breath triggered spasmodic seizures so strong they produced immediate faintness.
Zechs knew he was hurt. How badly? That he didn't want to know. If the injuries were internal and serious..."Well," he reasoned, "his bleeding to death would save him from OZ's demeaning plans."
What better way to get in the last parting shot at his former organization so hell-bent on prolonging his tortured existence? No, better to be dead than in bondage.
*********
A wide shaft of light flooded the gloomy room. Zechs squinted at the blinding brightness stabbing through his pulsating brain.
Pistol in hand, a Security Captain strolled to the prone prisoner. Zechs' crop of long silver-white hair hid his face. Several sections clung to his cheeks damp with pain produced sweat.
Kneeling by Zechs' shoulder the Captain inquired in mock concern, "Are you hurting? I could make you feel better." he cooed twirling silky platinum strands in his fingers.
One blue eye stared out through Zechs' bangs. "Go to hell." he whispered hoarsely.
"Been there and back." the Captain grinned, "Speaking of hell." The smile grew wider. "I can give you pleasure or pain or both depending on how you cooperate."
The Rebel remained silent, shutting his eyes to block out the Captain's leering grin and return his sight and mind to the soothing darkness.
"Both ways." the black uniformed Officer continued lifting a handful of the tangle tresses to reveal Zechs' pale features, "I bet you like it both ways. Let me find out and I might put in a favorable word with the Commander. And if you are very good Rico may take you for his personal "pet"."
Zechs did not react pressing his eyes tighter against the increase brightness that his raised hair allowed.
The Rebel scum's disdainful refusal of the Captain's wishes to have his pent-up sexual excitement relieved only served to heightened the his lustful desires. Willing or not, he decided, the tall, muscular man was going to service his needs.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" the Captain shouted bringing his pistol in line with Zechs' temple.
*Go on shoot.* Zechs' mind begged as another jagged pain lance through his brain.
*********
Heero, his hands shackled in front, moved in long fluid strides before two heavily armed OZ watchers. For some reason the compound's guards had taken a dim view of the Gundam pilot's uninvited and quite brazen infringement into their territory.
"MOVE!" one guard ordered prodding Heero along with the business end of his rifle.
"Watch it!" Heero exclaimed. The angry glare that always proceeded some deadly action flashed in an explosion of cobalt sparks.
Lowering his shoulder Wing's master plowed into his right-side escort knocking the startled man off-balance. But before Heero could make good his escape, the second of the watchful pair grabbed a fitful of hair and used a quick downwards tug to throw him to the ground.
Because of his bound hands Heero was unable to block his backwards fall. He landed with a bone-jarring crash as the hard contact knocked the air from his lungs and gave his head a sound jolt.
Stunned and winded, the unwelcome intruder offered little resistance as the guards jerked him to his feet. With a groggy stagger the now more sedate detainee reeled between the sentries as each held up his sagging body.
*********
"Well, what do we have here?" Commander Rico declared as Heero flopped into a chair by Rico's desk.
Heero's cockeyed sight still wanted to swim making the room spin. This rotation brought on a intoxicated dizziness preventing him from fully taking in his surroundings. And, just maybe, the lightheadedness would also serve as a deterrent to keep Heero's spontaneous tendency to strike first and then consider the damage after the fact in check.
"We found him by the East Border." one soldier dutifully reported.
Rico leaned forward studying the youth prisoner. "You are either brave or stupid to dare to come into "My Camp"." Rico proclaimed.
Rico stood and studied some more, "Or maybe you are just crazy." he finished not believing any sane person would not be so bold.
Heero straightened locking his still shaky sight on the boastful Commander. "Want to find out just how crazy I am?" he hissed through clenched teeth narrowing his eyes until only blue slits remained.
The Commander's features took on a mixture of surprise and puzzlement at the youthful intruder's recklessly defiant attitude. If he was frightened, the brash lad hid it well.
"Stand up!" Rico ordered with a wave of his hand.
Heero kept his centered pupils fixed on the compound's Administrator and did not move.
"Please." Rico pleaded in a mockingly polite request. A head nod prompted a guard to grab Heero's jacket and haul the stubborn man to his feet.
Walking around his desk, the Commander's fascination sparked hot. Running his eye's lustful sight the length of Heero's slender frame, long legs and all, Rico suddenly found himself more and more powerless to resist his prisoner's boyishly seductive charms. Stopping beside, Rico's wandering eyes once again caressed Heero's surprisingly mature body.
"What a beautiful man-child." he purred stroking Heero's tousled hair that added an even more alluring enticement.
Heero swayed slightly but never relinquished his icy glare.
Noticing the beautiful boy's unsteadiness, Rico reconsidered acting immediately on his increasingly compelling stimulations. "I believe that I will wait until you are stronger...have more stamina, then I WILL find out just how beautiful you really are." Rico announced with perverted delight.
"After all, I wouldn't want to hurt the such a fetching young thing." he continued running his flat palm over Heero's firm buttocks before pausing to fondle between his legs, "Unless he likes his loving that way. Tell me are you a virgin?"
Heero's eyes flashed. His hands curled into angry fists. Ignoring the dizziness and pain he straightened sharply and spat squarely in the Commander's face. Everyone held their breath.
Then with his rebellious stare still in force Heero stood staunchly, ready to suffer whatever retaliatory punishment his contemptuous act might inspire.
"Well, well." the Rico's edgy voice finally broke through the tense silence.
Rico moped the warm spittle from his cheek and chin with the back of his hand. "You have spirit." declared wiping the wetness on his uniform jacket.
Heero stood firm.
Suddenly the Commander's deceptively calm facade shattered. His hand flew free. Heero braced for the blow it was about to deliver but the swift strike missed with only inches to spare. Instead of a stinging backhand slap, Rico's fingers grabbed Heero's hair at the nape of his neck.
With a powerful jerk the angry Commander snapped Heero's head backwards tilting the youth pilot's deep blue eyes in line with his black rage-enlarged pupils.
"Yes, spirit." Rico hissed pulling in on his tangled grip. "But you will soon learn respect and it will be my pleasure to teach you." he sneered licking his tongue over Heero's lips.
With another rough yank, Rico released the pressure. Lowering his hand, his trembling fingers brushed lightly over Heero's flushed cheek. "Take him to Detention. The boy needs time to think about his lack of manners and I want him well rested before I find out how good he is."
The maddened Commander's thumb lifted Heero's chin making sure he had the head-strong captive's attention. "I assure you," he sneered, "you will need all the strength you can muster to handle my special brand of depravity." he promised leering down at the Wing pilot. "Yes, I'm looking forward to feeding my carnal appetite."
Twirling around Commander Rico shoved a finger in the nearest soldier's face. "And make damn sure no one else touches him!" he growled, "I want to be the first!"
"YES SIR!" the guard answered snapping to attention.
After Heero and his attending pair left Rico eased down behind his desk keenly aware of his rigid manhood pressing anxiously against his uniform pants.
"Beautiful." he sighed.
TBC...
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