Octagon Project 1: Melody Halloway

~-18-~

Mel let the door close eerily behind her as she stepped into the dim room. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the change in lighting and she made her way over to where an overly muscular man sat with metal chains around his wrists and ankles; keeping him contained to the metal chair that was bolted to the ground. The chains had made his wrists raw and were stained with rust and blood. A single light hung above the man just like the one that hung alone above the table of tools. Much much better tools than the ones McHall had equipped Mel with for her last interrogation.

"So," Mel began, walking around the chair at a decent enough distance. "Nathan Pavel. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way." She crouched down in front of the man.

"Go to hell." He spat. Mel shrugged and stood up.

"I'm already there. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way." She said, walking over to the table of tools and shrugging off her leather jacket before grabbing a syringe and small bottle containing a clear but foggy liquid. Filling the syringe a quarter way, she walked back over to him.

"There's nothing you can do to me that'll get me to say anything." He grumbled. Mel crouched again, holding up the needle.

"Funny. That's what the last guy said. Then I got an entire hard drive full of your agency's information. Well, he's dead now, but you get the point. Now I'm going to give you Anzid. My torturer gave it to me some years ago. It'll increase your feeling of pain and we'll see how much you can handle before either I or the poison kills you." She said, holding the needle down towards his wrist and injecting the serum.

"You're sick." The man spat out as a line of sweat beaded his forehead from trying to resist the poison's effect. Mel stepped back and watched him for a moment before tossing the syringe onto the dull cement floor near the table and grabbing one of the double edged knives.

"What is B.L.A.K planning?" Mel asked harshly. He didn't reply and Mel's impatience grew. "Nathan Pavel! What is B.L.A.K planning?!" She growled loudly. He didn't answer so she drove the knife into his thigh. He let out a high-pitched cry of pain and squeezed his eyes shut to try and shut out the agony. "Every time you don't answer I will move the blade." She warned him. "Now tell me what your agency is planning." Silence. Mel grabbed the handle of the knife and rotated it a full ninety degrees. He shouted in anguish again and Mel asked her question more forcefully, giving his temple a decent enough punch to scratch him.

"I don't know!" He shouted as she went toward the knife in his thigh again.

"What was that?" She asked.

"I said I don't know what B.L.A.K is planning!" He shouted again. Mel's jaw ticked.

"What was your mission, Pavel?" She asked. He glared up at her and she punched him again, harder. He grunted. "What was your mission?!" She grabbed one of her throwing knives and slashed at his arm twice and waited until his scream died down to punch the new cuts with the metal brass she put around her knuckles from on the table. His scream echoed again and again at every punch Mel threw down before she got tired and dropped the brass back at the table, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.

"Is this really how you're going to be Pavel?" She asked, slightly winded as she crouched in front of him again and pulled the knife out of his leg with one swift movement. "You're going to die either way, so why not just cut yourself from the misery of it being any more painful than it has to be."

---

Vanessa stood there in complete shock of herself as she watched two people carry out the body of the kid she just shot. She'd held a gun before, but that was to her own skull. Not one of an innocent girl she had never met. McHall had taken the pistol out of her hand, but it felt like she was still holding it, still hearing the ringing in her ears of the bullet being released, still seeing the motion of the girl's body slump against the wall as her breath escaped her throat and life drained from her face. How could anyone live with something like that on their conscience?! Part of her began to wish that she was going to fail the assessment and get shot. She deserved it after what she just did.