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themuseswithin
Nov. 27th, 2008 12:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
call_me_snakeWritten for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
will_porter whose mun has asked me and whose muse has asked Snake what it was like to be caught by the USPF.
1. Courage is not the absence of fear but the strength to overcome it — Christine Manteo
Snake scowled at the officers around him. How did they expect anyone to act civil like this. His hands were cuffed but that wasn't the problem. These were cops, cuffs were part of the MO. It was the heavy steel collar with lengths of chains running off in four directions. At the end of each stood a guard wearing heavy gloves and shield helmet. He was unarmed. Plissken wondered why they were so heavily attired. Were they that afraid? Plissken sighed.
He felt like an animal in the Roman coliseum or a war trophy from back in the days of Julius Caesar. They were parading him through the field of cops. There were cops everywhere he looked. Plissken shook not from fear but revulsion. Crazies had a better stench than the blackbelly dogs. Snake glanced around feeling nervous. Something was up. Most of the cops had rifles which he was used to but too many had billyclubs out and some had gloves. Plissken glanced around as he was led into to the thick of it. Cops were pressing in toward the guards. A club came in and Snake had barely enough chain to duck out of the way. His stomach knotted even as he entered a building. There was nothing good about where he was. He hadn't seen anyone above the rank of sergeant. With no one to control these crazy blackbelly bastards there was no telling what they would do.
Still cuffed he was taken into a room and each length of chain was hooked off on the wall. He had just enough slack to stretch his neck and try to work out the kinks that had been building since the heavy metal collar had been locked around it. They shackled his feet down with another set of chains. Plissken didn't protest. He knew when he was out gunned and needed to buy his time for something better. This was one of those moments. The four who had brought him in left.
Glancing around he saw the room had nothing remarkable. There were no windows just the door and a small drain below his feet. Noticing the drain brought the twisting feeling back. He started struggling with the cuffs. Good sense to bide one's time only went so far but not to here. This place was hell. He knew from the past. He'd been in a room like this in the war. Russian POW camp back, years now. Snake couldn't think. His whole body went cold then froze when he saw the man coming in. Once more with a visor. A no name man shielding the insanity away behind the mask or like an executioner hiding his misdeeds. He cut away Plissken's shirt. Normally Plissken would be unphased by being shirtless but here he found unnaturally vulnerable.
The black dog left. Snake stood there awhile feeling the cold of the concrete room. Maybe it wasn't cold. His memories were so fixed on Russia that he couldn't tell for a moment where he was. The blackbelly stepping in reminded him. Another followed with a camera. Plissken ignored them even when a gun came up. all he could imagine was they were going to film him being shot. The bastards here would probably get medals just for pulling the trigger. Snake remained stoic. If he was going to die they wouldn't get an ounce of satisfaction. A look of death poured from his eye toward the visor like heat. He could feel his head burning with that hatred.
A third joined the other two and they discussed something before a table was brought in and a case placed on it. Plissken couldn't see what was in the box as it was opened. Curiosity and dread became one feeling then only the dread remained when the gun came around. It was a rifle. Why would anyone need a rifle in such a closed in space? Out of instinct Snake narrowed his eye on the gunman. He couldn't see the face but he watched the muscles in the hand tense. The shot was coming. He knew the first one wouldn't kill him. The blackbellies loved to drag out a kill as long as possible.
The trigger squeezed and Plissken prepared himself for the burning pain. Having been shot on several occasions he knew what to expect but it never came. Snake couldn't hide the confusion when he glanced down. There, in his chest was horror far beyond being shot. A needle was stuck in him the feathers bobbing at the end with every one of his breaths. Snake wanted to panic. He was in full flight mode inside but disgust for the men in the room with him drowned it out. Casually snake reached up with his cuffed hands and plucked the dart out. They were loading another when he tossed it down. In the back of his mind he wondered what was in them. What were they injecting him with? His expression showed nothing but cold disinterest. Another dart came and Plissken gave the same reaction. They were attempting to break him. They knew after New York and the explosives that he had gained a fear of needles. They knew it beforehand from the psych ward. They wanted to see fear but Snake would give them no sign of it.
He wasn't going to give them anything. By the eighth or ninth dart Plissken began getting annoyed. It was his cover for the fear. It would be a cold day in hell before he let them see that what they were doing was causing the reaction they wanted. Eventually they seemed bored by his lack of reaction. The gun was taken away with the little dart case. Two stayed behind to watch him while the others left. What was next? Plissken knew better than to assume they had truly grown bored with his humiliation and pain yet. A few minutes passed before another box was brought in. This one had dials. Only one thing came from something like that. A long coil of red wire bounced lazily behind the blackbelly approaching him. He watched with his eye but didn't move his head. His hair was brushed aside and the sharp pinch came as the alligator clips pinched down on his skin. They were on the back of his neck, out of his reach while cuffed. Snake stood there as the three blackbellied bastards formed up in a triangle by the door. The camera was still rolling. Plissken saw the blinking green on the front but soon ignored it.
The jolt came hard. It sent his body into an uncontrolled spasm. Plissken went down only the chains weren't long enough. Suddenly the collar was choking him, burning where it touched his skin. Snake bit down to resist the urge to scream. The jolt ceased and he pushed up to stand but it soon came again. Then again and again. At one point Plissken anticipated it and stood ignoring them. He smelled burnt flesh and saw blood and water seeping down his chest. He couldn't tell if he was burned or if there were cuts from the cuff digging in. The important thing was they got nothing. Not a scream or a word. He'd give them nothing and if they wanted to torture him to death they could but he would give them no satisfaction. All three left with the box but the camera stayed. He had an idea why. Eventually his legs would get tired. He'd sink down and choke. It was like a sick drawn out hanging. Just the style of these dogs. They wanted him to suffer. Suffer he would but they'd get nothing from him.
Words: 1,285
will_porter whose mun has asked me and whose muse has asked Snake what it was like to be caught by the USPF.1. Courage is not the absence of fear but the strength to overcome it — Christine Manteo
Snake scowled at the officers around him. How did they expect anyone to act civil like this. His hands were cuffed but that wasn't the problem. These were cops, cuffs were part of the MO. It was the heavy steel collar with lengths of chains running off in four directions. At the end of each stood a guard wearing heavy gloves and shield helmet. He was unarmed. Plissken wondered why they were so heavily attired. Were they that afraid? Plissken sighed.
He felt like an animal in the Roman coliseum or a war trophy from back in the days of Julius Caesar. They were parading him through the field of cops. There were cops everywhere he looked. Plissken shook not from fear but revulsion. Crazies had a better stench than the blackbelly dogs. Snake glanced around feeling nervous. Something was up. Most of the cops had rifles which he was used to but too many had billyclubs out and some had gloves. Plissken glanced around as he was led into to the thick of it. Cops were pressing in toward the guards. A club came in and Snake had barely enough chain to duck out of the way. His stomach knotted even as he entered a building. There was nothing good about where he was. He hadn't seen anyone above the rank of sergeant. With no one to control these crazy blackbelly bastards there was no telling what they would do.
Still cuffed he was taken into a room and each length of chain was hooked off on the wall. He had just enough slack to stretch his neck and try to work out the kinks that had been building since the heavy metal collar had been locked around it. They shackled his feet down with another set of chains. Plissken didn't protest. He knew when he was out gunned and needed to buy his time for something better. This was one of those moments. The four who had brought him in left.
Glancing around he saw the room had nothing remarkable. There were no windows just the door and a small drain below his feet. Noticing the drain brought the twisting feeling back. He started struggling with the cuffs. Good sense to bide one's time only went so far but not to here. This place was hell. He knew from the past. He'd been in a room like this in the war. Russian POW camp back, years now. Snake couldn't think. His whole body went cold then froze when he saw the man coming in. Once more with a visor. A no name man shielding the insanity away behind the mask or like an executioner hiding his misdeeds. He cut away Plissken's shirt. Normally Plissken would be unphased by being shirtless but here he found unnaturally vulnerable.
The black dog left. Snake stood there awhile feeling the cold of the concrete room. Maybe it wasn't cold. His memories were so fixed on Russia that he couldn't tell for a moment where he was. The blackbelly stepping in reminded him. Another followed with a camera. Plissken ignored them even when a gun came up. all he could imagine was they were going to film him being shot. The bastards here would probably get medals just for pulling the trigger. Snake remained stoic. If he was going to die they wouldn't get an ounce of satisfaction. A look of death poured from his eye toward the visor like heat. He could feel his head burning with that hatred.
A third joined the other two and they discussed something before a table was brought in and a case placed on it. Plissken couldn't see what was in the box as it was opened. Curiosity and dread became one feeling then only the dread remained when the gun came around. It was a rifle. Why would anyone need a rifle in such a closed in space? Out of instinct Snake narrowed his eye on the gunman. He couldn't see the face but he watched the muscles in the hand tense. The shot was coming. He knew the first one wouldn't kill him. The blackbellies loved to drag out a kill as long as possible.
The trigger squeezed and Plissken prepared himself for the burning pain. Having been shot on several occasions he knew what to expect but it never came. Snake couldn't hide the confusion when he glanced down. There, in his chest was horror far beyond being shot. A needle was stuck in him the feathers bobbing at the end with every one of his breaths. Snake wanted to panic. He was in full flight mode inside but disgust for the men in the room with him drowned it out. Casually snake reached up with his cuffed hands and plucked the dart out. They were loading another when he tossed it down. In the back of his mind he wondered what was in them. What were they injecting him with? His expression showed nothing but cold disinterest. Another dart came and Plissken gave the same reaction. They were attempting to break him. They knew after New York and the explosives that he had gained a fear of needles. They knew it beforehand from the psych ward. They wanted to see fear but Snake would give them no sign of it.
He wasn't going to give them anything. By the eighth or ninth dart Plissken began getting annoyed. It was his cover for the fear. It would be a cold day in hell before he let them see that what they were doing was causing the reaction they wanted. Eventually they seemed bored by his lack of reaction. The gun was taken away with the little dart case. Two stayed behind to watch him while the others left. What was next? Plissken knew better than to assume they had truly grown bored with his humiliation and pain yet. A few minutes passed before another box was brought in. This one had dials. Only one thing came from something like that. A long coil of red wire bounced lazily behind the blackbelly approaching him. He watched with his eye but didn't move his head. His hair was brushed aside and the sharp pinch came as the alligator clips pinched down on his skin. They were on the back of his neck, out of his reach while cuffed. Snake stood there as the three blackbellied bastards formed up in a triangle by the door. The camera was still rolling. Plissken saw the blinking green on the front but soon ignored it.
The jolt came hard. It sent his body into an uncontrolled spasm. Plissken went down only the chains weren't long enough. Suddenly the collar was choking him, burning where it touched his skin. Snake bit down to resist the urge to scream. The jolt ceased and he pushed up to stand but it soon came again. Then again and again. At one point Plissken anticipated it and stood ignoring them. He smelled burnt flesh and saw blood and water seeping down his chest. He couldn't tell if he was burned or if there were cuts from the cuff digging in. The important thing was they got nothing. Not a scream or a word. He'd give them nothing and if they wanted to torture him to death they could but he would give them no satisfaction. All three left with the box but the camera stayed. He had an idea why. Eventually his legs would get tired. He'd sink down and choke. It was like a sick drawn out hanging. Just the style of these dogs. They wanted him to suffer. Suffer he would but they'd get nothing from him.
Words: 1,285
