NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Please rate this thread.

Two men sit in wooden chairs, cuffed to them around their ankles and wrists. Their arms sat behind the chairs, and both men staired upwards, forced this way by a metal circle chained around their neck and linked with the handcuffs they wear.

One man begins to tear slowly out of his eyes. They are all alone in this dark and moist room. They have no visitors, no contact with the outside world. They are prisoners of the Empire, and are being held for an unknown crime.

Two men walk in through the single steel door, with standard infantry dress containing a green BDU and (in this case) a G3A4. They walk over to the captives, and release a small smirk. One of the soldiers strikes the man in the stomach with his rifle. The man coughs, and a small amount of blood trickles down his face and neck.

"So...anything to say for yourselves?" asks one of the soldiers as he crouches next to one of the prisoners.

The men sit there, silent. Neither of them responds to the soldier's question. The soldier stands, pissed off by the lack of respect these prisoners show him.

"You have committed many crimes against the Empire during your pitiful life. You should thank us that we will end it." says the other soldier as he begins to pace the room.

"Why?" questions the prisoner as he begins to look around the room from his position.

The soldier strikes him again, this time in the face and with his bare hand. The man cannot move his face to divert the pain, and he begins to cough and gag on his saliva and blood.

"Do not speak unless we tell you to, you filthy rat." says the soldier as he cocks his rifle's bolt.

The men look frightened, a sort of fear that cannot be expressed in any other way. They know they will die, but they have not yet been told the timeframe. So far it has been three months of endless torture for these lost souls, and the families have yet to be notified of their existance with the Empire. For all they know, these fathers and husbands have left their families to rot.

"I understand that you have two children, Mister Mawe. Is this so?" asks one of the soldiers.

The prisoner who the soldier is talking to looks scared, and begins to weep slightly.

"Yes." replies the prisoner, fearing being striken he only says one word.
"What are their names? I have seen their picture...two daughters...very beautiful for their young age. How old are they? I'd have to estimate eight or nine?" replies the soldier.
"They are nine...twins..." replies the soldier as he cries more.
"What are their names?"
"Diana and Victoria..."

The soldier stands and reaches his hand out to his comrade, who stands against the cement wall holding a picture. The soldier hands the picture over.

"Yes...here they are...so beautiful." says the soldier as he shows the prisoner a picture of his daughters leaving school.
"What have you done to them?!" exclaims the prisoner.

The soldier smiles at the pain of this man. He hands the picture back to his comrade, who examines it carefully. The other prisoner feels his acquantences' pain, and slowly begins to tear.

"Ha. We? We have done nothing. However, the Neo Gestapo has told us tales of your daughters..."
"What the fuck did they do to my girls?! You bastards! Release them now!"
"Ha! Your pain...it is precious. Your girls are being held by the Neo Gestapo...supposedly they are fine young women."

The prisoner cannot handle being defenseless as his two daughters are possibly being raped, and severely hurt. He cannot and will not let this man describe what is being done.

"You will burn in hell!" exclaims the other prisoner.

The soldier from the wall hits the prisoner in the face with his rifle's butt. The two soldiers leave the room, and the prisoners begin to think about their families.

cough

The two soldiers begin to walk down the dimly lit hallway that connects the large amount of these "cells" to the building they sit beneath, which just happens to be the Council of Generals Main Building. The two soldiers emerge out of the darkness and into a brightly lit room, with four other similarly-dressed soldiers in it.

They exit the room after being checked for anything malicious besides their weapons, and they are also ID-checked. After they leave, they walk outside and begin to smoke a cigarette.

"Do you consider this form of punishment...too severe?" asks one of the soldiers.
"Of course not. Those bastards are traitors...in my opinion they deserve worse." replies the soldier as he lights his cigarette.

OOC: This will go on for sometime, possibly 1-3 posts a day.

TAG for future reference.

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The two soldiers walked back into the Council of Generals building and went back to the dark room were there priority prisoners were.

"So...which one of you bastards is thirsty?" asked one of the soldiers as he entered the room.

Neither of the men responded. One cleared his throat, and began to speak with his quiet voice.

"Is this a dream, or is this reality?" asks the prisoner.
"You wish this were a dream, don't you?" replies the soldier.
"Yes." the prisoner replies, coughing up some blood.
"Well...it's not."
"God...why have you forsaken me to this cruel punish--" the prisoner begins, but is interrupted by a punch in the stomach.
"There will be no prayers while you are under Empire control. You know damn well that there are laws against such actions."
"GOD! WHY, GOD! TAKE PITY--" another punch to the stomach stops the prisoner.
"Are you trying to get me to end your life? You are more pitiful than the cow I had for lunch, you coward. Your end will come soon."

The prisoner began to spit up some blood as the stomach blows began to register with his tainted mind. Perhaps the drugs that the soldiers gave me are kicking in? Perhaps I will overdose, and die? Ending this life for good? he thought to himself. But no, that was not the reason he was halucinating and getting blurry vision. The blow from the rifle he had been given earlier had given him a concusion. Not enough to kill, but enough to mess up his system.

"When...when will this end?" asks the other prisoner.
"Not soon enough, you traitor." replied one of the soldiers.
"Tell us who gave you the access code and this will all be over." said the other soldier, as he began to play with the magazine of his G3A4.
"Access code? I do not know what--" the soldier hit him in the face with his open palm.
"Tell us, damnit!" he exclaimed.
"WE DO NOT---" once again, the man was hit.
"You damn well know what we speak of. Tell us their name and this will end!" the soldier shouted.

The prisoner passed out from the extensive beating he recieved. The other one was so frightened he pissed his pants, literally. The two soldiers spit at the pathetic prisoners, and once again left the room.

The two soldiers walked down the hallway and back outside. One began to smoke, while the other walked across the street and got himself a newspaper. He returned five minutes later, to find his comrade lighting another cigarette.

"You do know those things kill, right?" asks the soldier as he flips his newspaper open and leans against the large glass windows of the Council of Generals.

His friend just stares at him. He takes a large puff of his cigarette, and then exhales out of his nose. He looks like a dragon in an odd way, flaring his nostrils for intimidation.

"Cigarettes? We're soldiers, members of a military, and you think a cigarette is going to kill me? I'd prefer to die from lung cancer than a bullet to the head, so excuse me while I kill myself over a large period of time." replies his comrade, with much sarcasm.

The other soldier just ignores the comment and continues to read his newspaper.

"So...do you think they really did it?" asks the man with the newspaper.
"Did what?" the other replies.
"Stole the access codes and...well...you know."
"Meh. I could care less. They were found with them, so they had them somehow..."
"Right."

The two soldiers salute a Colonel as he walks towards the building. The soldiers open the double doors and stand at attention, and the Colonel walks in after saluting them to acknowledge their presence. The two soldiers continue their conversation.

"Even if they didn't do it, I bet Rolf won't think twice about the fun he will have tomorrow." says the soldier as he begins to smoke once more.
"Why don't we just execute them now? It's been four months..."
"They deserve this punishment. They are traitors to the Empire. Do you not see that?"
"I do, I do. But still...four months is long as hell for an execution to be postponed."
"We need to extract information, thats all we're keeping them for. If permitted, I would shoot both right now. Possibly even castration."
"Now, now...Hans, that is Rolf's job."

They both smile and exchange a subtle laughter moment.

Four Months Earlier...

Two men sat at two small metal desks in the same dimly lit room. They wore long black leather coats and red shaded sunglasses. Each man was bald on the scalp, but both had a small black goatee on the chin. They were midweight, and sat at their separate desks.

Each man sat in front of a laptop computer. Also in the room was a brand new desktop computer, which screen was black with white text, as one would expect a standard DOS-attack computer to look like.

One man’s laptop had a bunch of stickers, some with humerous coding jokes and some with phrases only he would understand or someone with his lifestyle would. One of the stickers, placed directly in the center of the back, stated “chown -R us ./base”, a code that Unix users might find funny.

The two men did not speak, and continuously tapped their fingers on the keyboards of the laptops and occasionally peeked at the desktop to see if anything new had appeared.

Suddenly, the desktop’s screen flashed red and the text color changed from white to green. The screen read “PROPERTY OF THE S.D. GOVERNMENT” and a few other warnings. The two men smiled at each other with amazement. They had just written themselves into stone as the first hackers to crack the Witzgallian Government’s database of weapon information.

"You think we'll get busted?" asks one of the men.
"No. I told you, it's foolproof. That dumbass Ghir gave me the access codes...they'll just think some lazy General didn't want to come into the office and is logging in from home." replies the other man as he begins to copy weapon information and classified items to disks.
"Right..."

The two men begin to look at files in the database. All of the sudden...

Two men armed with MP5A5s drawn bust through the door. They throw a flashbang, blinding the two hackers for a moment and stunning them.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" exclaims one of the armed men, as he hits one of the hackers in the jaw with his MP5's stock.

The two men are dragged outside, where there are numerous Centurion-Initiative* trucks and agents, waiting to see the two men who broke the code.

OOC: Centurion Initiative is an elite Special Ops and Counter Terrorist group based in Witzgall, which is top secret to all other governments.

Present Day...

The two soldiers stand outside, in the freezing cold as the sun rises. They sit down on a bench nearby, and begin to discuss the capture of the two men.

"It was completely obvious they were the hackers...I mean, we got them still logged on." says the soldier as he reads the World News section.
"True...we also caught them with disks in their possesion with classified weapons intel."
"But the fact is, we don't know who gave them the access code. It has to be a mole."
"Why does it have to be a mole?"
"I don't know...but think about it. SPiKE tracing, immediate WHOIS search everytime someone logs in, IP tracing as a backup of SPiKE, database keyloggers...who knows what else they have guarding that shit? Nobody can get inside of the system in just two days. It would take at least a month..."
"Say they did have a mole. Who would risk execution of their family for this?"
"I don't know...I bet theyre being paid, though."
"No...the Fuhrer would be looking for large money wirings to these men. Even two dollars sent to these bastards would spark his interest.
"Possibly."

The two soldiers sit in silence, watching the occasional car and civilian pass by, trying to pass the time before they have to go back in and interrogate the prisoners some more. This time, it would be different. Torture would be involved in mass amounts.