Day Without June : a legend fanfic [COMPLETED]

Chapter 10

I silently watch the video, filled with horror.

I begin to regret asking Metias for this.

"...but I need to!" I urged. "I need to know how much they know, and how much they tell, so I can flee right away, if anyone..." I trailed off.

Metias seemed to be thinking. "I can try. But no promises," he finally said.

He did try. And he was successful. He managed to hack into the surveillance cam in the interrogation room and give me the live newsfeed of the Skiz fighters' interrogation.

"Honestly, I don't think this is a good idea," he said, handing me the tablet computer. I was literally fascinated by the device. I've never seen such a thing like that. NEVER.

The device, rectangular and shiny, caught me off guard. It was just amazing to hold such a device. A hologram pops up when I turn it on. I can zoom in, zoom out, and watch it from every direction. It is a cutting edge technology.

"This is so cool," I muttered, thinking how much Eden would love to have this. And then I flickered my gaze to Metias, grinning. "A bad idea, ah?"

He sighed a little. "Just don't let anyone - and I mean ANYONE - see you carring that around."

"Will do, Captain," I replied giving him a mock salute. If he was annoyed, he didn't show it. He kept his expressions neutral. Ha...those darn soldiers.

But watching the video now, I wish I never asked him for this.

The man, strained by the chains, is covered with blood. His body is limp, and he is only being held up by two arms tied by the chains from the ceiling.

The room he's being interrogated is blindingly white.

He suddently jerks his head up, and thrashes against the chain. But just as quickly he woke up, he falls unconcious again. His body sways back and forth helplessly.

A soldier in uniform rushes into the interrogation room. He holds a bucket.

Oh great. Like I can't totally guess what they are about to do right now.

The soldier holds it up above the man's head and dumps the water out on top of his head. No doubt it's icy cold. The man snaps out of his unconsciousness and looks around, the chain clashing every time he moves.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" the voice of the soldier shoots though my ears from the earpiece. I shudder as I hear that low toned, cold, emotionless, and clearly intimidating voice. I'm sure that's the last voice my father heard the last.

"Name, age, spouse and location," the soldier orders. "I don't like to repeat myself and I don't want to waste my time."

"I told you those before," the man manages to crock out. "Twice."

The soldier smirks, grabs the back of the man's neck, and holds it up. "I ask, you answer. Simple routine. Name, age, spouse, and location," he says. After a pause, he lets the man go. "And what do you know. You made me repeat myself."

He takes a few steps back, and drives his fist into the man's stomache. The sound is sickening. Another blow hits his face. And again, and again, and again. The man's body goes limp again, but he's still conscious.

He groans. "Dalton...Andrew...Ashwen. 32 years old. Lake Sector."

With the lightning speed, the soldier slaps the man with the back of his hand. The dull crack hangs over in the air. He forces his head to face the soldier.

"Dalton Andrew Ashwen, 32 years old, Lake Sector," the soldier repeats. "You think I'm that stupid?"

A kick in the gut.