[ this episode includes adult themes and language, reader discretion is advised ]

Season 02 - Episode 12

‘a mirthless chuckle’

Iz says nothing.

She is standing with her back to the wall in a cold, dark room. Her wrists are chained together as are her ankles. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and jingles. A heavy metal collar at her neck is chained to the wall behind via a few short links, forcing her to remain on her feet.

The only other objects in the room are a hard metal table, a hard metal chair and a red eyed security camera in the corner by the ceiling. On the hard metal chair sits a figure in black, a masked EnFo flicking idly through reports. He and others have been questioning her in their crackly voices for a number hours that by now may have ticked up into days.

“Which cult do you belong to?” asks the EnFo. The boredom in his voice is obvious, even through the electronic distortion. “What are the names of your accomplices?”

The words have lost all meaning to Iz, she has heard them so many times. They have become abstract sounds, the irregular soundtrack to this never-ending pain. She stares, slack jawed into the middle distance.

“You'll tell us eventually,” snaps the EnFo, standing suddenly so that the pushed back chair legs howl horrible against the floor. “You bitch.”

Even for Iz, the pain and exhaustion is becoming crippling. She manages the smallest smirk at the EnFo's rage then lapses back into staring,

“You'll talk,” the EnFo hisses. “We'll make you.”

“Oh yeah,” croaks Iz, dry tongue rasping behind parched lips. “And how're you going to do that? Torture me?”

The EnFo makes a strange noise. It takes Iz a moment to realise he is laughing. He turns and walks away, still talking over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” he says. At the far corner of the room he stands up on his toes and reaches up to the camera. “GovCo employees are forbidden to use torture.”

He flicks a switch and the red light on the front of the camera fades into shadow. Without another word, though pausing briefly to look at her, the EnFo leaves the room. For a period of time she is alone though again, she has no concept of for how long.

Then the door opens again and a man walks into the room. He is very tall, has very dark hair and is wearing an immaculate suit. He carries a large black bag which he places carefully on the table.

“I was wondering when you'd show up,” Iz whispers, fresh hatred reviving her a little.

Slowly, deliberately, the tall man removes various items from the bag and lines them up on the table. There are blades and pliers and a host of other vicious looking equipment.

“I thought GovCo didn't do torture,” says Iz, trying to spit. “Typical Inners, you can't take a breath without lying.”

“Well technically, Iz,” says the tall man, apparently deliberating between his tools. “I don't actually work for GovCo, I'm a private contractor. Plausible deniability you see.”

Iz just shakes her head. The tall man selects a laser cutter from the table.

“Now,” he says, rounding the table to approach her. “We both know that you had nothing to do with The Collapse, but I need everyone else, including the EnFo's outside, to keep thinking you did.”

His eyes are empty, hard, cold and dead but Iz holds his stare without flinching.

“It's funny,” he says, with a mirthless chuckle. “I need to show my GovCo friends out there that you've been tortured, even though they'll tell the public that you haven't, even though the public will say you should be. What a tangle, eh?”

Iz continues to stare into his empty eyes, giving him nothing.

“Do you remember when I first showed you this laser cutter?” he asks, holding it up for her to see. “You thought then I was going to hurt you with it, didn't you. As it turns out...”

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Iz cries in disgust. “Do you ever stop talking?! Whatever you're going to do, just get on with it. Whatever it is, it'll be better than listening to this!”

“Fine,” says the tall man, irritated. “Let's begin.”

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