Grandeur Defector

V

If hell was real, it was this.
The rag placed over his mouth was soaked with ice cold water as he choked on the water pump.
"We could stop this y'know. Just tell us who you work for, stripeless!"

Never!
Eleven shook his head, not giving anything away.
SM E-9 Warren signaled to his partner, who stepped forward and fixed his glasses. He pulled out the book at his side, unstrapping it from his belt. He looked Eleven in the eyes, as if wishing the person he was helping torture would just break to get it over with.

"Bạn làm việc cho ai?"
'Who do you work for?'

Who do I work for? You've asked this before!
Eleven have no response, frustratedly flailing in the restraints. He glared at the crow in defiance. The crow looked at him with pity.

Do it you cowards! Kill me!
Warren sighed, and turned the water pump on once more. Water filled his senses, immediately choking him. His lungs screamed for air, but even still...
A memory hit him.

...
"Dừng lại!"
'Stop it!'

The General did not stop, ignoring his request. Eleven's mouth gullet filled with burning water again. The General reset his makeshift clock timer, slamming his fist down on the buttons. It was set to one minute. The man flailed again in his restrains.

60, 59, 58, 57...

By the 30 mark, Eleven felt his limbs growing cold from the lack of oxygen. His brain pulsed in pain, and although he wanted to scream, the only noise he could muster were muffled, gurgled cries.

26, 25, 24, 23...

Eleven's claws extended as his fight-or-flight response activated, his tail spiked completely, fur the appearance of an explosion. He gargled a hiss in misery. Finally, The General gripped Eleven's head by his hair and moved it forward, releasing the water trapped in his lungs. He vomited the water violently, coughing blood from internal burns.
He gasped desperately for air, his throat completely burned from the heat. It hurt to breathe in and out, but that's all he could muster in the moment, each breath stinging. Relief overwhelmed him.
The last number I made it to was 20. This time, it was 18.

"Lại."
'Again.'

NO! NO, PLEASE-
The General reset the timer.

"Sức chịu đựng."
'You need endurance.'
The superior sneered, a twisted smile forming on his striped face. He grabbed the pail of burning water again.

Endurance?! For WHAT?
...

Ugh!
Just like the memory before, he began to count down as more water poured into him. The ice cold water flooded his mind, vision becoming harder to tap into. Like his life was water itself, it was slowly dripping away at the freezing temperature.

18, 17, 1....6....1.....5....

Consciousness slipping, he accepted whatever fate lay on the other side— one he assumed would look like hell, if there was one— for his monstrosity in life.
8...

"Enough."
Warren flinched. He hesitated, clearly not wanting to listen to his avian assistant; he backed off, roughly shoving Eleven's head forward to let him breathe.
He sputtered icy water out of his mouth, surprised that the enemy continued to keep sparing his life. Gasping for oxygen, all he could do was let his head flop to the side and draw in air through ragged breaths.
I'm freezing now.

"Babe—er... Cadet, can you summon Ursidae?"

Cadet bowed politely with professionalism, nodding.
"Yes, sir."

So. They're lovers.
He glanced at Warren, curious.
Where Eleven was from, men weren't meant to love men because it interfered with their focus on militarism, distracting them. He recalled seeing a man hung for having a lover the same sex as him, the lover being forced to watch the person he loved hang slack. Eleven had no idea what happened to him afterwards.
It's why he never bothered with loving anyone— male nor female. He was terrified.
I couldn't imagine what that feels like. To lose someone you know you can't love, but love anyways... and watch it all poured away, hanging by a rope.
War is hell.