❣︎ 2 ❣︎ 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝑰𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒍－ 𝑪𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑾𝒂𝒓

𝟶.𝟷

꧂      𐬼𐬽𐬼𑁍☀︎︎𑁍𐬼𐬽𐬼 ꧁
♡︎

༻Her wrist began hurting from the strong grip a man had on it. She tried to tug her arm away but she couldn't. He was too strong. He dragged her though the cold, empty halls. She was barefoot, a long, dirtied shirt went past her knees, as her body was scratched and bruised. She could hardly keep her head up from how tired she was.

The man stopped at the familiar door. He punched in the code and the door opened. With a yank on her wrist, she was thrown on the cold, cement floor. The only thing filling the room was a small, metal dental chair and a large machine connecting to it.

The machine was completely metal and rusted. Every once in a while, sparks would fly from wires that connected to each other. The tubes from the machine traveled up the chair and stuck on the sides. At the ends of the tubes, large syringes stuck out. Three on each side, ready to clamp down into the subject. At the head of the chair a metal, rounded, head piece had multiple needles sticking from it. There were restraints on the places a person would put their legs and arms. A small table with a computer stood next to the large machine.

The girl still laid on the floor, struggling to stand. The sudden burst of the door made her jump and spin her head to see who was there.

"Ah, Diola. Did you miss me," a middle aged man with a dark and scruffy face, asked. His eyes were barely visible because of the shadow that cast upon his face.

"Not in the slightest," an 11 year old Diola responded. She grunted and stood up.

"Last time I was here, you refused to communicate," the man brought up to Diola, putting on his gloves with a smile on his face. "We decided you needed something a little more... extreme to get you to talk," he turned to her.

"Ah, that's why you have rusted pieces of metal connected to a dental chair. You know, it's not very intimidating. It looks more like you found it at a dump, but, hey, you did your best-,"

"I didn't make it!" He shouted, very annoyed. "Sit in the chair," he demanded.

"Anger issues," Diola said in a sing song voice, quietly.

She scrunched up her nose and stared at the chair. Diola wondered if the chair was stable. She shrugged her shoulders and sat anyway. A smirk grew on the man's face, making Diola look him up and down in disgust.

He clicked a few buttons on both the machine and his computer. The machine started up and began making noises. The three syringes on either side of her rose and pointed down to her arms. The Torturer walked over and strapped the restraints down.

"Now, tell me, Stark, why did you let Annabeth go?" He asked, his smirk continued to grow.

"Who the fuck is Annabeth?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"The girl you let escape on your last mission!" The ugly man screeched in complete frustration.

"Ohh. Just because," She shrugged her shoulders, answering the question.

The man calmed down and looked back towards the machine. He flicked a few buttons and twisted a few knobs. This caused the whole machine to whir and start up.

The metal head piece with needles began to clamp down on Diola's head. The needles penetrated her skin as she screamed out of pain. The syringes that pointed to her arms, began filling up with a blue liquid. Once filled, they stuck into her arms as the blue liquid entered her veins.