War's Prisoner (Hiro/Soup)

[Soup]

The plate was empty, the stomach was full. The canteen was filled with the clattering noises of dishes being stacked and chairs being shoved to the tables. Gerd Haullus followed suit, plopping his plate onto the one the guy next to him was just about to carry away. "Thanks there, Tom." he grinned, getting up himself to head to his room. Four double stacked beds. No window. No table, one chair. And one locker for the clothes for each of the four men.

His face was grey, eyes hollow. His usually reddish hair had turned into greyish blond. The sickening color of the walls around did no ones mind nor color any good. It had been a hard few weeks, stationed out here in the middle of nowhere, always twitchy, never feeling quite so safe. But Gerd was good at his job. He didn't care, he had no moral code that told him to be honest to everyone he met. He was a good liar. He had friends but none that would give their life for his. At least not around here. He was simply integrated.

Gerd flung the door to his shared room open, flicking the light on, stepping in. He rubbed his face, scratching away at the bit of stubble that had built since he'd shaved this morning. He reached into his shelf, already dragging the upper layer of his uniform off, digging for a towel and fresh undergarments. His eyes fell onto the bed. His bed.

An envelope. The envelope. His face blanched. He'd wondered why there was no one in the room yet. This was the reason. The greyish towel he'd been pulling from the shelf fell to the ground as he moved towards his bed, a lower bunk. Grey and shaking fingers stretching out for the little white folded paper. It was open.

He didn't need to read the letter. There would have been no time. The room was stormed before he had the chance to even figure out why. Why had he been dropped? He'd sent the last information not two days ago. And now they'd dropped him. Sent him a letter. The letter that would blow him. Had blown him. He was out. No more a spy. He was lost. He was a dead man. He was not needed. They'd given up on him.

There was no need to turn. No need to react. Something hard struck him over the head, fast and efficient. He was immediately out, collapsed to the ground. He was out. He was dead. They'd dropped him.

 

[Hiro_]

RE: War's Prisoner

It was chaotic as the sounds of rushing cadet’s bustled pass their meeting chambers. It was clear to any in the room that their Commander was growing increasingly displeased with the interruptions. They were going over their next plans of invasion, predicting a battle near the bridge of Ludvig with a predicted 200 casualties. “What in Dante’s hell is all the commotion about!?” His voice was loud, demanding, leather gloved hands fisted and slammed into the table before him denting the weak metal and sending their makeshift pawns shaking. A few of his lackeys jumped out of fear, some out of surprise and this caused him to narrow his eyes in a most hateful glare.

Weakness.

He despised it, needed to eradicate it. As more and more Cadets seemed to rush through the hall he wasted no time in turning heels towards the door. With a power not unlike him he threw open the door, the glass panel shattering upon contact of the wall behind it. With a speed many grew to fear he reached out and yoked up a passing solider. The man must have not seen him for he was yanked back hard and spoke with a vulgarity of someone who did not realize their current situation.

“Motherfucker who do you think yo-“ The Cadet was cut off as his Commanders free hand came to his throat choking the man and then with a powerful thrust was slammed into the wall behind him. “You will do well to show respect filth.” His words were seething as he choked the man more to make sure he could not get a word in edgewise.

“Now… “ The man spoke in a much calmer tone, “Explain to me why I was just so rudely interrupted.” With reluctance he loosened his grip around the others throat, his free hand lifting to stop more soldiers from running past them. Them moving quickly to stand at attention as he dealt with the insolent one before him. One of the cadets beside him chiming in with intelligence that they had yet to receive. He was unsure if he was more ticked that they had not been the first to hear of this or more angry by not having detected the spy in the first place.

With a powerful side swipe he tossed the man in his grip to the side as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. Disobedience would not be tolerated and every soldier beneath him would pay for such, but not before he handled the matter at hand. Ordering the rest of them to lead the way he followed with ill intent. He would deal with this spy personally and this man would rue the day he was assigned to his position.

 

[Soup]

RE: War's Prisoner

Light and shadow shifted past flickering lids, curling in and blinding before retreating. A numbed body was slowly coming to. Knees hitting over the polished greyish green ground, being dragged, swiftly, urgently. Arms pulled taut behind the back, cuffed, strong hands around stronger upper arms, compressing the muscle, holding a strong body up.

Gerd came slowly to, loud voices penetrating into his head, aching with the hit. There was too much movement, too many people around him. It couldn't have been long since he was knocked out, just moments ago, most likely. He knew the faces, they were those he'd seen every day. He'd eaten with these guys. Shared a room. Now they didn't look at him. He was the enemy. He fought to get to his legs, catch up to them, but they wouldn't let him, held him down, dragged him with growing speed.

Something wet pooled into his eyes, clouding his vision, rendering him almost blind. Was it sweat, was it blood. He didn't know. He couldn't see. He ground his eyes closed, shook his head to get rid of the pearls of liquid within his eyeholes. He had to know where they were leading him. He didn't know, everything looked different from down there. He had to concentrate on his limbs, had to try to avoid corners and steps they were dragging him over, had to try to avoid the greatest damage.

Ever again a kick landed at him, a gob of spit shot into his face, a hand came up, fisted in his hair, dragged his face close, shouted at him. He couldn't count, couldn't order, didn't know who was who. "Fuckin spy!" "Comrade fucker!" "Whore!" - There was more, so much hate.

He didn't care. These weren't his people. He had no people. It didn't matter. He'd live, he'd free himself and if he didn't he'd die as deserved. Whoever isn't strong enough will die.

He didn't realize the journey had ended until he was violently seatet in a wooden chair, his arms brought painfully down behind the back rest. A door flew shut, a dizzying bright light was shot into his face. He could see nothing but the light, he heard the people around heard them shift, move away and closer in places. He looked around, straightened in his chair, set his jaw.

"What will you do now?" he demanded, a mocking sound flinging from his face and tone of voice, a grin on his lips, growing with the trail of spittle sweat and blood rushing down the side of his face.

 

[Hiro_]

RE: War's Prisoner

A deep resounding chuckled filtered through the dark shroud the room seemed to be encased in. The only other sound would be the sound of a shifting body as clothing moved against clothing as their owner moved to stand. “Tsk… Tsk… Tsk…” Was all that could be heard as the sound of heavy boots moved slowly around the room, each step deliberate, menacing. Each pause between steps foretold of future tortures, of future pains.

To the left of the man the sound of metal scraping against metal would reach his ears, behind him the sound of soldiers clamoring to get a piece of the action. Trying to see the torture and witness their most fame commander make his presence known. The sound of a knife being sharpened would reach their prisoners ears as a pair of hands pressed against his shoulders. The sound of the knife moving against the leather stopped and one of the hands against Gerd’s shoulders lifted to retrieve it from his aid.

“Did you know…” The voice started out softly, it sounded almost kind but in this situation it would only serve to prove that the person dealing with him was up to no good. “when a main artery is cut it only takes 5 seconds for the human body to bleed out…”

This statement was followed by a haughty laugh as the blade was pressed against Gerd’s neck. The cold steel biting into his flesh with a held viciousness. “What is your name?” This was more of an order rather than a question even if it was in the form of one. The voice was stern, unwavering, but it held an underlying silkiness to it.

He would have killed the man before he had awaken, personally, but there would be no fun in that; now would there? Instead it was advised that they needed to gather whatever information from him they could before making an example of him to the rest. They would not tolerate betrayal. He would not tolerate betrayal. He would be sure to instill fear into his cadet's hearts the likes of which they have never felt before.

 

[Soup]

RE: War's Prisoner

Gerd chuckles lowly, his head moving ever so lightly with the sound of the footsteps, the very footsteps that were meant to threaten him, to send him over the first edge of panic and loss, where his mouth was suppoused to run freely before there even was a question. His face was white, but his grin was dark. Death was no threat. Pain was not threat. He would not speak.

Before the hands were on him he knew they'd be there, the steps, slowly trailing closer to him, halting behind him told him so. Whoever it was, Gerd didn't know. He kept his face straight, his shoulders relaxed, merely shifting his eyes to not have them run fully into the blinding light.

Gerd hoped he would be killed know, the blade that was coming closer, meant to paralyze him, frighten him, was like a golden ring of hope. A red death, swift, just moments for the brain to realize, for the mouth to gape, and for the heart to stop.

He did not flinch nor move, when the blade pressed into his throat, his head caught in the arms of a stranger. He could have knocked him away, freed himself. He knew how. He sat loosely in the chair, merely his wrists cuffed. There would be enough movement. But there were too many people. It would be in vain. Simply cause more damage now than was necessary at this moment.

Lightly Gerd pressed against the blade, signaling that there was no fear. "To kill. And to lick the warm blood off your fingers." he chuckled lowly. "Death is the bringer of unparalleled pleasures."

"Gerd Haullus" he added. Simply as that. There went a clean record with that name. He could come up with a whole life story to that. He'd even describe mother and father, though he'd never seen them. He'd picked the name from a dead soldier, then was transfered into a different place. It was war. No one knew the faces after one fight was over. After all those you've known are dead.

The room around them had grown strangely quiet. There were no words now, it seemed only to be him and the man behind him. The only ones in the light, the shuffling noises around only those that were not apart. Like people on the street, gathering to watch a street fight.

 

[Hiro_]

RE: War's Prisoner

It was clear that Gerd was not afraid of death… That much was certain but that was of no continence. He only had one intention and that was making Gerd afraid of him, afraid of life and of living it. Death was easy but living was hard, especially when you constantly underwent torture. “Come now Gerd was our comrade.”

The room had been empty, yes, aside from just him and ‘Gerd’ there were things keeping them company. The knife within his hand slipped low along the others neck; almost in a seductive way it moved, trailing lightly over the others flesh drawing fresh drops of blood that bubbled to the surface. Pale skin would only become more beautiful as the crimson colour stained it and this seemed to only excite him.

“You cannot expect me to believe my own comrade betrayed me, now do you?” In lame man’s terms… They knew his name was not Gerd. In fact that letter revealed a lot more than it should have. It was almost as if ‘Gerd’s’ government wanted him to be caught. One may have even felt pity for the man, having been dropped like a dirty tissue and now in the process of being burned and stomped on.

Footsteps sounded once more as the he began to move around Gerd’s body, eyeing him, taking in the details of the other before moving close careful to have the light directly in the other’s eyes so that he could never see his torturers facial features. A hand pressed against Gerd’s cheek caressing it gently, a kind gesture that was all but not. Without warning a foot lifted and smashed in the others knee, it was strong enough to harm him but not strong enough to break anything. That would be saved for later.

“You will do well to answer me spy.” He began to play with the knife in his hands, tossing it from one hand to another before moving it closer to the other’s body, at one point he even caressed the mans cheek with it. Though it was only with the bladed side he did this, the pressure intense enough to cause deep wounds. As the blood dribbled down ‘Gerd’s’ cheek he gave off a laugh of amusement.

 

[Soup]

RE: War's Prisoner

The pain was not intense enough, but it was good. It drew the pain from within outwards, made his body almost rise, coming alive. He felt the blood slowly running down, a red pearl at the tip of the stream, slowly mingling with the pearls of the chain to his tag. It gleamed red, slowly curling down towards the name and number of an already dead man.

The touch on his skin with the knife felt like a lover's caressing, a lover who despised the one he loved, a lover who wanted to ravish, to inflict pain in order to receive response.

Gerd knew that they knew. That they knew he wasn't the one he had acted to be. But he also knew they didn't know who he truly was. It was something that would have brought loss to those he had worked for. They did not know and they would never know. He would not tell them. He had forgotten. It was his past. He was no one now as long as he was here.

A tingle dribbled down his spine, the hands left his shoulders, footsteps moving around him. He kept his head straight, unmoving, his chin up. The blinding light, he closed his eyes. He could not see who it was, whether he had seen him before. But it didn't matter. It was his pain, it did not matter who inflicted it.

He could only listen now. Staying utterly still as the hand pressed against his cheek though he was almost tempted to press into the hand that seemingly took so much delight in touching him. The kick was not expected, a flinch ground through his body, ending with a pressed groan from his throat, eyes grinding down for but a moment. His shoulders cramped for the hitch of a second as the pain rushed through him. It felt like his kneecap had splintered, the shards spreading through the whole of his body.

Welcome the pain. He opened his eyes, blinded by the light, staring confident and resolute. He would not say a word. The blade pressed into his flesh, splitting the taut skin. His neck muscles were stiff. He did not move his head, holding it to the pressure on his skin, the seething pain. He would not say a word.

 

[Hiro_]

RE: War's Prisoner (Hiro/Notch)

The man was stubborn. The knife in his hand was flipped so that he was holding it in a way that it would be easier to stab with… And that is exactly what he intended to do, but first…

He began to take off the gloves from his hands, the black leather pieces falling to the ground with a light plop. Next he began to unbutton his coat, not wanting to ruin it with the traitor’s blood he moved with diligence for he was excited about what he was about to do.

“Now… I can make you a deal.” He spoke almost gently as he tossed his coat off to the side in a corner somewhere unknown. “Tell us what you know and we promise to make your death quick… or, don’t… and I will take my time raping you of your life. Personally, I prefer if you don’t.” He chuckled faintly as he slapped the back of his now bare hand against the uncut cheek of the other. Oh how he would enjoy their time together.

Without any hesitation or even an indication of what he was to do next he lifted his arm and down it came with fierceness. Through the man’s thigh it went, cutting flesh, nicking bone.

“Speak traitor!” There was no way that ‘Gerd’ would not cripple in pain after that; he wanted to hear the man scream. It was part of what he enjoyed most about torture… their screams, pleas, their agony.
After he had stabbed the man he waited a moment before twisting the blade slightly.

“Your name!” IT was an order with a promising threat. His right hand lifting to the cut cheek as he begun to dig his fingers into the wound causing it to tear and become worst; he was basically fingering it at this point.

 

[Soup]

RE: War's Prisoner (Hiro/Notch)

Gerd's eyes wear tearing with the light, apparitional he saw black parts flowing off man interrogating him, like the words that seemed to slowly wash from his tongue.

He saw the hand coming, now filling the room with a different sound, naked flesh against naked flesh, bone knocking into bone. Gerd had stiffened, but his head still flew sidewards, he caught it, pulled it back. His face stayed expressionless. There was no doubt the man was enjoying what he did, and Gerd did with any passing minute less. With any usualy interrogater he could have lived, but this guy was a pure sadist. A sadistic fucker that'd cause pain mentally and physically, that would make no halts in breaking and destroying a human being.

The blade gleamed in the fucker's hand, suddenly, Gerd was barely able to take in before it shot down, ran through his flesh, hit his bone. His arms were taut about the chair, muscles digging into the wood, creaking, his feet glued the ground. He wanted to scream, to writh, to struggle, he wanted to break free and kill him, kill him with the very knife his own blood was still on. But he didn't, he fought. His neck muscles were bunching, his stomach was rolling, his chest heaving, everying of his body was twitching, apart from his arms and legs, taut to the ground, around the chair. His breath was struggling within his lungs, couldn't pass the pain and his clenched teeth. No sounds came out.

The hand on his cheek, in his cheek, drew him back. Back from the pain to a new pain. He opened his eyes to the light again, turning them towards his captor. Something snapped. He was off the chair within the blink of an eye, ramming his full weight into the man before him, adrenaline pumping too fast for the pain of the wounds to sicker through. Teeth aiming to maim, to rip flesh out, arms working, trying to use the time to dislocate and to snap them back in place where there would be more use, in front.

 

[Hiro_]

RE: War's Prisoner (Hiro/Notch)

As the man lunged at him he braced himself, not in a protective way. More or less his hands shot up, his palm pressed up as he pressed it hard into the others chin making sure that he could not use his mouth for any hurtful purposes. His other hand pressed firmly against the spy’s peck, pressing against it with a strength that betrayed the size of his body.

“Filthy bastard!”

Lying beneath the man’s struggling body he had a strong urge to snap the others neck right then and there. His hand very much in a position to do so but instead he quickly took advantage of the situation.
Hooking a leg around the others just above the knee he tightened that grip, and with a swift twist he flipped the feral man onto his back non-too gently. His hand quickly following those actions back gripping the knife still imbedded within the others leg. Free hand slipping down to choke the man, pressing him into the ground.

He was sure this time the other would be able to get a good look at him. Stray strands of hair falling about his face to frame it slightly, his hair was short, the black strands contrasting starkly against his own pale flesh. He pushed down on the knife, his grip strong and without a moment’s notice he pulled it out.

The serrated blade dripping with the man’s life fluid, the rich colour dripping upon the floor as he moved the blade to the press between the man’s breast. He had reacted before the other could dislocate and try and reposition his arms, something that he could not allow.

 

[Soup]

RE: War's Prisoner (Hiro/Notch)

It took only moments before Gerd found himself on his back, his arms where they were, compressed between the hard stone ground the and his own muscled back. His chin was tilted upwards, displaced by the hand gripping his throat. His eyes were focussed on the face over his. Probably not much older than himself. Angry. Stern. A broad chin. Almost pretty.

A smirk drifted over Gerd's face and rammed his good knee upwards, sending it into the man's crotch. That was the end to his actions. With one leg out, barely air, no arms and a knife close to his heard he wouldn't get that far, but inflicting pain to make a point was surely satisfying. Inflicting pain to attractive folks was all the better. Could really get a man horny.

Didn't make the fucked pain in his own leg any better though. He felt the pumping, the heat grinding out, gushing over his leg. He didn't think the artery was hit, but there still was enough blood, and the muscle didn't feel any good either. Actually felt darned painful. He opted for passing out, he felt he'd had enough fun for now. Though the probability of him passing out was rather slim. He somehow didn't have that tendency, though it'd have surely helped him on quite a few occassions already. Though altogether it probably would carry a negative effect in most situations.

 

[Hiro_]

"So arrogant you are traitor."

His face was so close to the others own, his heated breath caressing against the others flesh through his half smirk. To say he wasn't excited would be a lie, the inner part of his thigh throbbing with that familiar sore aching. Just after the other attempted to hit him where it mattered, all he did was grunt softly in reply, his mouth pressing against "Gerd's" ear.

"I can not wait to see the hour in which your face will twist only in pain. How wondrous a sight... "

The back of his hand that still clutched the blade moved along his cheek as if the man was merely a delicate Princess and he, her Prince. It was almost silly, that thought; never mind that the raven chuckled deeply into the others ear before pulling back to yet again slam the blade through another piece of tender flesh. This time he decided the other leg was feeling a bit lonely.
[Sorry, been super busy with prep for these Con's and next semester.]

 

[Soup]

A low and deep chuckle rolled from Gerd's dry throat and a twinkle drifted through his eyes with it. He was not the only arrogant one in the ring. It seemed he had found himself an equal partner in the man atop himself. Gerd felt the errection that built alongside his thigh, it was not his own but it was not like his penis didn't feel like rising either. Arousal was growing from his ear, touched by the lips of the other, down along his spine and to his crotch. The touch to his cheek, just as soft. But his eyes were firmly and sternly conncected to the darkhaired man's and he saw the shift, saw the next wave of violence that was to come.

When the other wanted to pull back Gerd shot upwards, pressing his lips firmly to those of the man above and at the same time he felt the pain reach his brain. Where he had sucked the kiss turned into a bite and the yell that escaped his throat was only stiffened by the mouth that was against his. After a moment he let go and sank back onto the ground, blood from the other on his lips, and blood from his wounds sipping through his clothes. His eyes were barely open now as he watched the other man, his breathing heavy, his arms and legs limply on the ground. Pain was shooting through every nerve of his body, and he was barely able to fight it back now.

 

[Hiro_]

To say he was not surprised by that action would be to lie wholeheartedly, but as a man of his status he held his composure as if he were God himself and had predicted the action. Gerd did not know when it was best to lay down and take it... To his satisfaction. The blood that flooded past his now wounded lips seeped sweetly between every taste bud upon his tongue. He was aroused and this particular action only served to heighten that arousal to a new level. One that even he had never felt before, one that sent an intense urge to claim, to dominate, to force the object of desire to be his.

Who in the hell is this man? Was the only thing he could think as he wrenched the knife that had sunk into tender flesh. The blade being tossed to the side closes to the door with a metallic clanking. "Gerd." His hand lifted to his bloodied lip, eyes narrowed and voice stern with a menacing appeal. "You have crossed me for the last time." Was all he had spoke as he began to stand up from the man's rather limp body. Oh he would pay, he would pay... Walking towards the door's direction, instead of heading out of it, or even relatively close to it he instead went back to that tray. A syringe set upon it.

A special blend of chemicals cooked up by their very own scientists. Something that was tested and proven to work. It was there advantage on the field. A chemical designed to speed the healing process while giving its owner a boost of adrenalin. He prepped the syringe for use and then placed it back upon the trays surface before moving back to Gerd. "I am going to make you wish you had never met me." His words were whispered as he bent beside Gerds body, his own moving to hover over the others. "I will show you what hell truly is."

He licked his lips while his hands moved beneath the others body to roughly make him stand and then steadily he guided the other to a new chair forcing him to sit upon it. Upon the table next to the tray happened to be extra rope and it was utilized. Gerd's body being tied to the chair properly this time. Each foot against the chairs legs. His arms to and torso to the chairs body. "Can you taste it? The blood that has yet to be spilt... Can you Gerd? Can you smell the scent of arousal?" By the last question his words became nothing more then faint whispers against the others ear. "Can you feel it?" His hand roughly grabbed the others pride, squeezing the others clothed sex tightly.

He laughed deeply, almost as if he was mad. Perhaps.. Perhaps he was mad. What man in his sane mind would enjoy the pain of another and better yet, get so sexually aroused by it? Perhaps he was no man but instead a Demon in disguise. The syringe was taken from the tray once more and with no warning it was pushed into Gerd's arm. This was meant to keep him going for a few more hours... More than enough time to satisfy his own desire to twist Gerd's face in hoarse pain.

 

[Soup]

For the moment Gerd has nothing more to say, was just glad that the show was over for now. Or at least he hoped so. The general had taken enough out of his body already, the warmth was slowly leaving him. He was losing a steady stream of blood, the wounds were deep even if not fatal so far. If he would not be bandaged or sewed up he would die eventually of the steady blood loss, but he would not within seconds or minutes. And he was assured that these were the least painful of the wounds that was to come. The general carried a face and a pair of eyes that told tales of deep pleasure for anything that he would be able to inflict. For cries of torture he would receive in return.

To stand was impossible, the pain was too intense for his muscles to hold him up, and most of his adrenaline had left him. Gerd was only tired now, but there was no giving in from the other side. He was dragged up and without any gentleness whatsoever heaved onto the chair. He wasn't resisting now, what was the point at the moment. There would be different chances. At the moment he was fighting the sickness that seemed to drive into his stomach, tried to bring his mind back into his head.

He wasn't focusing on the general, was trying to collect himself. Only when a hand reached for his crotch did he look up, did he fight his head up from his chest. He hadn't even known it was down there, so much strength and head had lost him already. But there was nowhere to go, all he did was stare defiantly back into the eyes of the man standing over him. A small smirk played over his lips, but it did not last long.

His eyelids flew wide with the needle that was rammed into his arm. A shivered followed along down his spine and slowly his breath grew harsher, sweat started to pool in all valleys between muscle and bone. Gerd clenched his teeth, breathing in and out, in and out. There was nothing he had to say for now, no question about what he had been injected. He could guess very well. His eyes found the eyes of the general for another moment and then he closed them again, trying to focus, trying to hold the injection out. But he was fighting an enemy he could not win against. Not in his recent state of being.