_ _ _Hiiro

I'd never been tortured before and I really wasn't looking forward to when my captors started in earnest. I'd been locked in a dim ferrocrete room, asked a few questions and roughed up a little when I'd played dumb. It wasn't much of a beating but living in the lap of luxury under Celio for the past few months had made me soft. I'd probably been getting soft for a while and I hadn't noticed. Sure they'd stripped me naked, chained me to a stool and kept me in the sweet spot between being uncomfortable and being in pain, but I could tell this was all just foreplay before someone fetched the pliers and knives.

If my captors got serious, I knew I would talk.

I was hoping they'd let me stew for a while, but it wasn't looking that way. Time wasn't exactly on my side but I figured the longer the outfit had to notice I was gone, the better. If they even noticed in the first place— if they hadn't already written me off for dead. The only good thing about my captors' impatience was that whatever they'd sedated me with back at the ironworks wasn't completely out of my system yet. Whatever they'd used must've been pretty strong, it felt like I'd been here for hours already and the world still had a blunt edge to it. I wondered if the suns had come up or if it was still dark out— if Sophia had gone out shopping yet.

I guess it was too late to know now.

The first batch of goons who'd handled dragging me in here and beating me black and blue had cleared out. I didn't really remember all that much from then, but I knew I was deep underground in some ancient dungeon. The two average-looking men who'd came next didn't scream and threaten me, didn't club me senseless over the slightest thing. I could tell these two were the professionals.

The first was an older gentleman, every aspect of his face said 'you can trust grandpa, I'm here to help'. He had gnarled, scarred hands poking out from immaculate white shirt sleeves held together by a smart brown vest. It was an outfit I'd started to think of as the Nexo Isla suit and tie. His legwear didn't fit the look though. The khaki shorts were normal enough, but he was wearing heavy, knee-high rubber boots that were mottled with off-color red/brown.

The other guy looked pretty normal—maybe a little taller and heavier than me wearing baggy shirt and pants with a pair of sturdy combat boots—except there was something about his face that screamed 'fuck with me and I'll end you.' His expression wasn't particularly hostile, more like I was an unexpected addition right as he'd been about to call it a day. I was guessing that he was the one they called Diablo.

The interrogation cell we were all crammed in reminded me of mister Sato's office all those months ago orbiting a whole other world. There was one heavy door that lead back out past more goons than I'd been able to count when they brought me in. The cell was drab ferrocrete grey accented by butcher's hooks on the ceiling and short-chained shackles bolted to the walls. My captors had a table and some nice chairs to relax in. I had an oblong stool kind of thing, the surface of it was textured like the teeth of a dull sawblade which dug into my flesh. I was pretty sure those teeth hadn't been dull when my stool was new. It had been worn down by heavy use, all those unlucky sods who'd been here before me.

I wondered how long they'd each lasted before they broke?

The older man moved his chair opposite me and sat down, looking me over as a jeweler might a rare find. His partner just glared from the table in the corner. He had a little lunchbox on the table beside him. It might have been a trick of the light, but that little lunchbox seemed more sinister than a bonesaw. I tried not to think about what kind of tools could fit in it. I tried… and I failed. The older man crossed a leg and started speaking.

"Good evening. No doubt, you're wondering where you are and why you're here. The answer to both questions is quite simple. You are in our custody for questioning and you will remain as such until as we are convinced you have been entirely truthful and forthcoming with us. Do you understand?"

I tried to glare at him as I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't really feel most of my face aside from an aching throb around my right eye and the sharp pain shooting from my broken nose.

"Time is running short," The older man continued. "If you don't become more cooperative, things will quickly become… intolerable for you."

I kept my mouth clamped shut. It was a stupid choice, I knew that. Any second now they were going to see that good cop wasn't getting anywhere so bad cop was going to come over here and start breaking fingers. I already knew I wouldn't be able to hold out once got serious.

"Allow me to ask, who do you think you're protecting by keeping quite? Your employers? As you may have noticed, your employers aren't here. Are you afraid of retaliation, perhaps self-incrimination?"

He had a point. I knew I was stuck here and they knew that so long as I was, they could take all the time they needed tearing everything I knew out of me. Why should I bother protecting the mercs? It's not like I actually cared about this job or the outfit or whatever botshit life-debt they were trying to blackmail me with. Hell, Leeroy had already signed off on my death warrant right in front of me. He was hardly an employer worth dieing for.

But it wasn't as if every merc was a black-hearted bastard. I didn't owe the outfit scat, but I could think of a few people I didn't wan to betray at the first opportunity. I couldn't let Bim get caught in the crossfire. I had to hold out as long as I could… for her.

"Are you married?" Suit asked without giving me time to answer. "By the end of our time together, I shall know you more intimately than any lover could. If it helps, you could think of me as an escort, however our time together will not be bliss. You will tell me things that you have told no other living soul, perhaps even things that you yourself have forgotten. Through these revelations I shall be your savior."

He paused his speech for a moment. It reminded me of questions I'd once asked as a painter— back when I'd still been confessor and executioner. There was a good chance that if things went poorly, this man would be the last person I ever spoke with. There was a clarity to that, a finality that made my life flash before my eyes. It made me want to trust him, to like him. It made me think that if our positions had been reversed, maybe he wouldn't make things harder than they had to be. But mostly, it made me remember that when I'd been on the other side of the gun, I had NEVER let anyone walk away without doing what I had to do. I was going to die, quickly if I was lucky, by a matter of millimeters if I wasn't.

I wasn't feeling particularly lucky.

"Make no mistake, you will give me what I want to know. I have broken more men in this very room than you could ever realize in the long years I've been doing this. You needn't concern yourself with that however. The only questions you need ask is 'how painful you are going to make this for the both of us', and of course, 'how much of you you want to leave here with'. Now, let's start with something small. A name. What should I call you, hmm?"

If I took one step, it might be too late. How much did they already know? Would a name be enough to jeopardize Bim? Celio's might be, but I wasn't so sure about mine. I had to hold out! My eyes flicked away from the older man to his partner. Any second now he was going to reach into that lunch pail and pull out… something.

I reached for my inner flame, focusing my mind through the distant pain and the drug-blunted haze clinging to my brain. The killing heat was still off in the distance, howling somewhere in the forest as in made it's way back to me. It was close enough that I could almost feel the faint whisper of heat in my bones. It wasn't close enough for me to evoke though… not yet.

"Very well then." The older man said, sitting back and relaxing in his chair. "I'll offer you this, two names for the price of one. Ours, for your's."

That wasn't how this was supposed to work. The thought lingered. Why would they tell me anything about themselves? Because it didn't matter what I knew, I wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone. Still… If I could make it out of here, if I could escape however long that might take, then maybe something I had learned would be useful.

"Sato." I lied, but slowly, warily.

"Very well, Sato. You may call me Diablo and my associate here Mudo." 'Diablo' lied right on back.

A huff that might have been laughter fell from my lips. Diablo was as good a lier as I was— probably even better. I didn't realize I was smiling until I felt my cheek putting pressure on my black eye. We were both full of scat. Diablo had brown eyes and they made me remember a joke.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"You're so full of scat your eyes are brown." I grumbled, chuckling like an idiot at my own joke.

"Perhaps, but we both learned something from that. Didn't we?" Diablo said, smiling a perfectly normal smile.

Scat! What had he learned from me? Somehow I'd come out losing and it pissed me off. I wiped the stupid smile off my numbed face and shut my damned mouth.

"Come now. There's no reason we can't behave like civilized men. Of course, should you desire that we act like uncivilized men, I'd be just as happy to oblige." Diablo flashed me a smile that started as apologetic but trailed off into a snarl of fangs as he held it a little too long.

I believed him. The kindly old geezer act was the sweet sticky sap that baited the trap.

"No doubt, you're wondering about my name. Diablo is hardly flattering." Diablo said, leaning back in his chair once more. "You see, I'm something of a dealmonger. It makes me happy when everyone gets what they want."

He unfolded his hands and gave a small shrug in a 'but what can you do' motion. I could tell there was more to it; not that I had any idea what that might be. He definitely didn't share the same obsessive compulsion that Bim had for conracts. Just then, it felt like I'd walked through a spider web. Like something gossamer-thin had brushed over my entire body at once. I shivered, feeling a chill around me that couldn't penetrate my feverish skin.

"Normally, I like to start somewhere small and work from there. A name for a name. Honesty for honesty. A pair of clothes and a hot meal for your employer. As I'm sure you know however, these are interesting times. Times like these require a bit of… flexibility. Give me something concrete and I'll do what I can to make our time together as painless as possible."

He was pleading with me. He was either a damned good lier or he was being sincere, maybe both. They were getting close to out of patience. Neither of them showed it on their faces, but I could feel it in the air.

I reached for the killing heat. It was close now, like a forgotten word on the tip of my tongue. I reached and reached but I couldn't command it just yet, couldn't feel it boiling in my guts. It would come. I just needed a few more minutes and I could turn this around. I was in too deep playing dumb. My best chance at stalling for time was to double down.

"I've already told your goons everything." I answered, trying to match his tone and falling short— at least in my ears. "I was in the office trying to get caught up on some paperwork when your thugs drugged me, beat me and brought me here."

Diablo snapped his fingers and Mudo stood for the first time, striding out the door that'd swung open without anyone saying a word. The door latched shut and I heard at least a dozen heavy thunks as all the locks engaged.

"So… You worked for Mateo Machining-"

"Matias Machining and Metalworks." I corrected.

"Of course," Diablo said, playing it off as a slip of the tongue while we both knew his mistake had hardly been innocent. He wanted to catch me in the lie and I had no intent of letting that happen. "What kind of work do you do there?"

"I mostly work the smelters." I said, trying to point at my various burns and scars to support the claim only to come up short. The chains around my wrists didn't have much slack. "But sometimes I handle paperwork when I need the extra hours."

"Dangerous work." Diablo noted. "Most off-worlders would find something more lucrative than manual labor."

I didn't bother asking how he knew I wasn't a local. It was already a big hole in my story but between my accent, the shape of my eyes and face plus the fake Nova-Kyoton name I'd given him, I had no choice but to roll with it. That was the master's trick at the heart of all deception, sprinkling in just enough of the truth that the plausible became the probable.

"I came from Intatenrup, it's a terraforming project like this planet. I'm… I'm not a well-educated man." I admitted, slumping down as I did. "Manual labor is about the best I can hope for."

I paused then, giving him time to reach his own conclusions. Time for him to measure my story and try to separate the truth from the lies. While he did, I reached for the fires that had been with me for years. They were nearly here, like a phantom limb about to become solid any second now. Something in me relaxed a bit then.

I could do this. I could stall for another minute, maybe two, and then I could burn my way out of here when things got hairy. Memories of my failed escape from the Goodnight Moon resurfaced but I shook them off. Things would be different this time. I had power. If I could take out a guard or two, then I'd have a weapon and all the ammo I needed to get the hell out of here. I knew I could do this.

One rap stuck the door and I heard the whisper of it unlocking over the slow heavy pounding of my fiery heart. Mudo had returned, a rolled tool bag in hand. He didn't say a word as he hung the bag from a butcher's hook and let it clatter open behind Diablo. Mudo just stood beside his boss, a diligent aide ready to hand his master surgeon his needed instruments.

I couldn't even recognize half the tools on display for me. I saw hammers and a bundle of bamboo splinters. Blades arrayed by size starting at scalpel and ending with machete. An orderly clustered mess of surgical tools took center stage. I could barely guess as to how most of them were supposed to be used. Some cut, some clamped, others crushed or peeled. At the bottom of the roll, in a place of dubious honor, was a pair of long-nose vise-grip pliers.

I struggled to tear my eyes off them. Everything else was a specialist tool, even the various blades and hammers each had their own uses, but those pliers commanded my imagination. I kept reaching for my inner fire but it balked every time I tried.

"I traditionally prefer starting top-to-bottom when I must work to persuade a subject." Diablo said jovially. "Of course, I'm more than willing to oblige in what you want."

Diablo held out a hand. Mudo gave him the pliers. I reached for the flames that weren't coming again and again and again. I just needed another minute!

"I'll make you a deal," Diablo said. I latched onto the words like a lifeline. "I'll let you chose between your toenails and your thumbs. If you can't make a choice in the next five seconds, I'll take both."

I called on the fire that should have been raging inside of me. Nothing. Not a single spark answered. The pliers latched onto the toenail of my left big toe.

"No! Don't!"

"That wasn't an option." Diablo said, a kindly smile on the old man's face.

He started to pull. I reached for my fire. Nothing. It had abandoned me and I couldn't focus enough to figure out where the hell it had gone.

"StopStopStop!" I pleaded, screaming the words. "I'll talk! I'll talk."

The tearing pain stopped.

"That wasn't an option either." Diablo said solemnly.

The tearing resumed. Every nerve from my toe all the way to my brain screamed in flaring pain. The drugs that had been blunting everything gave up the fight. I screamed and bucked and pleaded for him to stop. He didn't.

Agonizing seconds later, Diablo put his shoulder into it. The pain changed. I heard something in my peripheries. It sounded like a rotten log being pulled apart. The pain changed again. It didn't stop. I wasn't sure if it would ever stop, not completely.

"Now," Diablo said, examining my toenail still locked in the teeth of his bloody pliers. "If you want to cooperate, I'll make a new deal with you."

I nodded. I could only nod, my throat was too raw for wasted words.

"Tell me-" A deafening alarm blared, cutting him off.

The sound was so piercing I felt it in my bones. It shook the air and sent a fresh wave of agony over the exposed nerves of my bleeding toe. Mudo reached inside his shirt, I spotted the flash of a conceal pistol in there before he pulled out a small radio and handed it over to Diablo. The alarm lessened into a grating roar, but one you could yell over if needed.

"Status report." Diablo's roar was whisper quite in the din. I couldn't hear anything from the radio.

A deep rumble shook the earth around us. That rumble became an earthquake that threw my captors to the ground and toppled my stool over. Chained up like a turkey at the butcher's, I hit the ground face first without catching myself.

The alarm died, the lights too for a split second before a dim red backup powered up. Between the earthquake, the alarm and Diablo's hollered questions, the interrogation cell was drowning in sound. I felt the overpowering noise in my bones, a million times louder than thunder grumbling overhead. It could have went on for seconds or hours.

It stopped… eventually.

"Status report." Diablo repeated, his tone so perfectly even you could have built a tower on it.

This time I heard the radio's answer. Men were screaming in berserk fury and terror as they emptied weapons on full auto. They were fighting and from the sounds of it, they were getting slaughtered.

Two impossibly loud cracks reverberated up my everything. It felt like the planet was a giant nut and something had just smashed it open. The soul-crushing rumbling resumed, even louder now, even closer. I saw cracks in the ceiling. Dust trickled down through them.

It was going to collapse. This whole mountain was coming down right on top of my head and I didn't even have a hope or a prayer of making it out of here. In the dim red light that filled the room, I saw that my captors had the same thoughts racing across their minds. We were going to die and in all likelihood, our bodies would never even get discovered under all the rubble.

< M̶͇͛y̶̥͌ ̸͇̚Ḧ̵̺́į̵̈́i̵͎̎r̴͇͌ȏ̶̤ ̵̧̇s̶̪͊t̴͚̀i̵̟͌l̷͖̅l̸͍͆ ̶̇͜l̷̯̓i̸̺̓v̴̮͆e̷͖̅s̵͇͑,̸̹̾ ̵̠͋a̷̪͆n̷̫͆ḏ̷̊ ̵̡̑I̵̩̽ ̷̟̕w̸̥͝ī̶̲l̶͖̓l̶̼̏ ̴̼͐s̶̠̈́a̸͈͝v̴͓̅e̸͍̋ ̵̫̓h̵̟̒i̶̞̔m̶͐͜ >

The thought tore through my mind like a siren blasting into both ears but not at all. I didn't really hear it, I couldn't hear anything over what sounded like an entire mountain being torn down on top of me. It was in my head. I recognized her voice in an instant, it was the same one that had called to me from the stars on another world and it was the one I still woke up hoping to hear whispering beside me. I could tell from the way my Mudo was looking to Diablo that they'd both heard it too.

"You boys are fucked now."