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Mamoru / Knight Forced Honesty
Dec. 14th, 2013 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vivalamorteMamoru hadn't paid terrible mind to the first unexpected turn of the car en route to pick up Rex. There were multiple paths to nearly any location. It wasn't until the general direction changed that he took notice.
"We need to go west from here," he reminded the driver from the otherwise empty vehicle. The driver didn't answer; instead, he floored the gas, causing Mamoru to stumble back against his seat.
"What are you doing?!" Still no answer. Then a sharp turn down a dark street and he slammed on the brakes. The power locks all clicked and every door opened at once. Men climbed into the back seat on either side of him. One grabbed his arms, the other held a damp cloth over his nose and mouth. It was the last thing he remembered.
When he woke up, he was tied to a chair and blindfolded. He had a headache and awful neck pain from the hang of his head. His arms were cramping. He was thirsty and he had to go to the bathroom.
Where was he? What time was it? Mamoru made a few experimental tugs and squirms at his bindings. If he could just--
SMACK. Something struck his left cheek with nearly enough force to make the chair topple.
"No struggling," spoke a male voice from in front of him.
Another from his left and further away chimed in, "Oi, oi, careful not to break his jaw. We're gonna need that intact."
The lack of sight didn't stop the sense that his head was spinning. Where had that come from? He hadn't heard the man make a sound...
"Who's there?!" He demanded through the pain. "What do you want?"
No one answered him.
Hours upon hours passed-- Mamoru wasn't sure exactly how much time, but it seemed like it must have been at least a day or two. He made another couple of tries to squirm out but each one met with a violent strike and an order to keep still. After the third one, he stopped trying. He similarly stopped trying to communicate after multiple attempts that all went fully ignored. Sporadically and not nearly often enough, he was given a bottle of water and a bathroom break, but never without escort, and never with the blindfold coming off, or his hands getting loose.
He was starving. The rope had chafed and dug deep, angry marks into his skin. The left side of his face ached and felt horribly swollen. He wanted a bath...
But the worst part wasn't physical. The worst part was what was inside. The little flashes of the last time this happened that kept intruding into his thoughts. The cumulative impact of isolation in a group: knowing other people were around but holding recognition from none of them. The uncertainty of everything. Where was he, who had him, why did they take him, how much time had passed since the car veered off-course, were they going to kill him...
Was anybody even trying to stop them?
It felt horribly childish to be concerned with such things. It felt like Omi. Hadn't he outgrown this? He thought he'd gotten stronger. This shouldn't be doing such things to him...
He shuddered, and that's when it happened. A hand grabbed a wad of bangs and pulled his head up.
"Ready to talk?"
"Who is this?"
"You're not here to ask the questions. You're here to answer them. Yes or no."
"I'm telling you nothing."
Another blow into the stomach. Through his coughing and choking from the loss of air, he thought he heard the words Get the serum.
Scuffling. A hand clapped down on the back of the chair and tipped it over so that his back crashed against the ground. While he was in the midst of recovering from the disorientation, his right arm came loose from the ropes. He felt it quickly pinned to the floor palm up. A prick in the crook of his elbow...
Whatever they injected stung like hell. They retied his arm but chose to leave him prone on the floor. The voice spoke again.
"They say there are two parts to lying: creating an untruth and concealing the actual truth. The injection you've just received contains a special compound that blocks the biochemical reaction in the brain required for the latter. Until it wears off, it is physiologically impossible for you to hide information. Observe: what is the password to log on to your laptop?"
Through an expression of dawning horror, Mamoru heard and felt himself saying, "AA080YoBa3KeSa5152OBo6618."
"Now tell me how you came up with it."
"It's the first character of Aya, Youji, Ken & Omi, followed by the first character of Abyssinian, Balinese, Siberian, and Bombay, with the four components of Ouka's cell phone number in rotating order. What is this?!"
The interrogator ignored him. "What are your favorite and least favorite foods?"
"Crisp apples, extra spicy curry over rice, and onigiri served chilled-- like sushi-- are my favorites. My least favorite is celery. Stop it!"
"What is the most embarrassing sexual experience of your life?"
"The fact that I still haven't had it. I said stop!"
"Who was the first speed dial on your cell phone?"
"Rex. Why are you--"
"How do you drink your coffee in the morning?"
He genuinely tried to stop himself from saying it.
"Straight black with a bean roll for breakfast..."
He heard a button depressed on a tape player-- or more likely, a pocket recorder-- and a light thunk of its being placed on the floor on his right side.
"Now, let's hear some real secrets."
Shit...
"We need to go west from here," he reminded the driver from the otherwise empty vehicle. The driver didn't answer; instead, he floored the gas, causing Mamoru to stumble back against his seat.
"What are you doing?!" Still no answer. Then a sharp turn down a dark street and he slammed on the brakes. The power locks all clicked and every door opened at once. Men climbed into the back seat on either side of him. One grabbed his arms, the other held a damp cloth over his nose and mouth. It was the last thing he remembered.
When he woke up, he was tied to a chair and blindfolded. He had a headache and awful neck pain from the hang of his head. His arms were cramping. He was thirsty and he had to go to the bathroom.
Where was he? What time was it? Mamoru made a few experimental tugs and squirms at his bindings. If he could just--
SMACK. Something struck his left cheek with nearly enough force to make the chair topple.
"No struggling," spoke a male voice from in front of him.
Another from his left and further away chimed in, "Oi, oi, careful not to break his jaw. We're gonna need that intact."
The lack of sight didn't stop the sense that his head was spinning. Where had that come from? He hadn't heard the man make a sound...
"Who's there?!" He demanded through the pain. "What do you want?"
No one answered him.
Hours upon hours passed-- Mamoru wasn't sure exactly how much time, but it seemed like it must have been at least a day or two. He made another couple of tries to squirm out but each one met with a violent strike and an order to keep still. After the third one, he stopped trying. He similarly stopped trying to communicate after multiple attempts that all went fully ignored. Sporadically and not nearly often enough, he was given a bottle of water and a bathroom break, but never without escort, and never with the blindfold coming off, or his hands getting loose.
He was starving. The rope had chafed and dug deep, angry marks into his skin. The left side of his face ached and felt horribly swollen. He wanted a bath...
But the worst part wasn't physical. The worst part was what was inside. The little flashes of the last time this happened that kept intruding into his thoughts. The cumulative impact of isolation in a group: knowing other people were around but holding recognition from none of them. The uncertainty of everything. Where was he, who had him, why did they take him, how much time had passed since the car veered off-course, were they going to kill him...
Was anybody even trying to stop them?
It felt horribly childish to be concerned with such things. It felt like Omi. Hadn't he outgrown this? He thought he'd gotten stronger. This shouldn't be doing such things to him...
He shuddered, and that's when it happened. A hand grabbed a wad of bangs and pulled his head up.
"Ready to talk?"
"Who is this?"
"You're not here to ask the questions. You're here to answer them. Yes or no."
"I'm telling you nothing."
Another blow into the stomach. Through his coughing and choking from the loss of air, he thought he heard the words Get the serum.
Scuffling. A hand clapped down on the back of the chair and tipped it over so that his back crashed against the ground. While he was in the midst of recovering from the disorientation, his right arm came loose from the ropes. He felt it quickly pinned to the floor palm up. A prick in the crook of his elbow...
Whatever they injected stung like hell. They retied his arm but chose to leave him prone on the floor. The voice spoke again.
"They say there are two parts to lying: creating an untruth and concealing the actual truth. The injection you've just received contains a special compound that blocks the biochemical reaction in the brain required for the latter. Until it wears off, it is physiologically impossible for you to hide information. Observe: what is the password to log on to your laptop?"
Through an expression of dawning horror, Mamoru heard and felt himself saying, "AA080YoBa3KeSa5152OBo6618."
"Now tell me how you came up with it."
"It's the first character of Aya, Youji, Ken & Omi, followed by the first character of Abyssinian, Balinese, Siberian, and Bombay, with the four components of Ouka's cell phone number in rotating order. What is this?!"
The interrogator ignored him. "What are your favorite and least favorite foods?"
"Crisp apples, extra spicy curry over rice, and onigiri served chilled-- like sushi-- are my favorites. My least favorite is celery. Stop it!"
"What is the most embarrassing sexual experience of your life?"
"The fact that I still haven't had it. I said stop!"
"Who was the first speed dial on your cell phone?"
"Rex. Why are you--"
"How do you drink your coffee in the morning?"
He genuinely tried to stop himself from saying it.
"Straight black with a bean roll for breakfast..."
He heard a button depressed on a tape player-- or more likely, a pocket recorder-- and a light thunk of its being placed on the floor on his right side.
"Now, let's hear some real secrets."
Shit...
