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Irina awoke, her vision still blurred. She reached to massage her head wound, but found her wrists restrained. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realized that she was lying on the floor. Looking around as best as she could, it appeared she was in a hallway.
"Hello," said a voice that Irina recognized immediately. She looked up and saw the interrogator who had tormented her the day before, flanked on either side by guards. "I bet you thought that was pretty funny. Well, now you have the murder of our troops on your hands. That's not going to go over so well with a tribunal."
"I don't know what you're talking about..." muttered Irina. She knew damn well what the interrogator was talking about, of course. But she tried to sound as convincing as possible.
"Shut up," the interrogator said. He saw through her feeble lies. "In light of your heinous crime, we are going to require more drastic measures. I believe that this next method will do a good job of loosening your tongue... and other things, as well."
Irina tried to figure out what his cryptic statement meant when she was pulled to her feet by the two guards. She found herself standing in front of a steel door. It was clearly part of the same prison she had been in all along, but she did not recognize the hallway where she now stood.
One of the guards opened the door. Irina's eyes bulged -- it was no regular cell. It appeared to be a holding cell for male prisoners, who sat around on benches and cots. All wearing orange jumpsuits, many appeared to be quite rough around the edges.
"Welcome to the preprocessing center for male civilian prisoners," the interrogator said with a disgusting smirk. He called out into the cell: "I have a little present for you guys!"
Several of the prisoners roared at seeing the attractive young woman at their cell door. As Irina screamed curses and pleas at the top of her lungs, the guard shoved her inside and locked the thick door behind her.
Irina fell flat onto her stomach. Still handcuffed, she had trouble getting up. As members from the lecherous mob approached, she tried in vein to scoot into a corner.
Outside the cell, the two guards turned back towards the interrogator.
"Didn't let us have any fun with her first?" the first guard complained, half-serious.
"She is responsible for the deaths of an entire squad. I'm convinced that these thugs will do a much better job punishing her for that than you could, Corporal." The interrogator grinned. "Besides, you're a professional soldier... you're above that kind of behavior, aren't you?"
-----
Days like this made Maria Khrutsky really hate her job. She had been one of the prison's daytime supervisors before the invasion. While the occupiers let her keep her job, they cordoned off over half the facility for their own uses. Other than the fact that it overcrowded her cells, it was a mostly tolerable arrangement; they mostly kept out of her business so long as she kept out of theirs.
She had heard stories about harsh interrogations going on in the other side of the prison. Honestly, she didn't care; most people wouldn't, either. The occupation had surprisingly popular support after the initial shock had worn off. The civilians found that, for the most part, life was better after their corrupt and ineffectual government was deposed. The terrorists operating under the guise of a popular "rebellion" were disliked by most; they got in the way of making life normal again.
Despite her lack of sympathy for the movement, Maria was furious to learn that three soldiers simply dumped a female prisoner into the general holding room for men who hadn't yet been assigned a cell. While many of the inmates were petty criminals, there were more than a handful of violent types held inside. Watching security footage after the incident, she saw the prisoners rip the clothes from her body. Many participated in violating and beating her until she passed out -- then continued to get their fix. By the time the news filtered up to her office, the young woman had been in there for over an hour. Not only was this a breach of Maria's sovereignty, but it seemed a little too excessive a punishment for anyone to endure.
With a contingent of six civilian prison guards and a paramedic, Maria marched from her office down to the holding cell. Her men were ordered to retrieve the woman using all necessary force, after which point they'd try to take care of her without letting the military establishment know.
She unlocked the door and the guards barged in, screaming for the prisoners to herd into the far corner. Those who disobeyed were efficiently met with the business end of a heavy baton until they retreated. The guards announced that all inmates who were seen on videotape participating in the assault would have rape, assault and battery charges filed against them. Among complaints from several of the prisoners, the guards hauled Irina out of the room.
"Son of a bitch!" said the paramedic as the guards laid the unconscious female prisoner on the stretcher he brought with him. She was a mess: nasty welts crossed her left breast. Her wrists were raw from the application of cuffs. She was oozing a nasty mixture of blood and other bodily fluids from every orifice, and she had a variety of other bruises and wounds across her body, including what looked like attempted strangulation marks around her throat. The paramedic checked her vital signs; she was still alive.
"I'll take her to the sick ward," he said. The paramedic hastily pushed the stretcher down the hall. Maria dismissed the six guards and rushed after stretcher.
Upon arriving in the infirmary, they got the attention of a doctor and a few nurses. Fortunately, it was a slow morning. Irina was given a massive dose of antibiotics and antiviral drugs, along with a hormonal birth control injection. The crew scrubbed the bloody, sticky mess from her body and applied a soothing cream to Irina's cuts and bruises. The nastiest of her wounds were carefully bandaged. Finally, she was hooked up to a nutrient IV drip before being pushed into a private room. She was covered with a hospital gown and a blanket; her room was locked from the outside as a precaution, as they had no idea whether or not the prisoner was dangerous.
Irina slept all through the day and the following night, waking up briefly at times only to doze back off. The following morning, though, she was awakened by a loud argument outside her room. She opened her eyes wearily after hearing the uproar. After a few moments, her door flew open and slammed loudly against the wall. Outside her room, she saw several uniformed military men in a screaming match with a handful of civilian guards. A military officer stood to the side of the commotion, standing behind a handcuffed prison supervisor who looked to be in her mid-30s.
After several more minutes, more soldiers appeared and convinced the guards to leave. One of the soldiers stormed in the room, yanked the IV from Irina's arm, and pulled her out of bed.
"Let me go!" screamed Irina. "I gave you what you wanted!" The soldier pushed her from the room and held her face-to-face with the handcuffed prison supervisor, who was clearly trying to hold back tears.
"Was this murderous bitch really worth it, Khrutsky?" barked the officer who stood beside Maria. He turned to Irina. "You can thank this former prison supervisor for your recent hospitable treatment. Unfortunately for her, aiding an enemy of the state is tantamount to treason."
"You know that's rubbish, Major," said Maria, who was slightly trembling. "You have no jurisdiction to dump a military prisoner into a civilian section of this prison. That's the way we've agreed to handle things, and that's the way it's been done. I was merely trying to clean up my section of this facility."
"We'll see how a tribunal views your actions," said the Major with a smile. "In the meantime, I've been approved to arrest you and hold you in the military section of this prison until your trial."
"Stop it!" screamed Irina. "I didn't ask her for help! She was just trying to be a decent human being, you pigs! Let her go!"
"Process the traitor accordingly," said the Major. "And bring the terrorist to my office."
The two women were quickly hooded and handcuffed, then led their separate ways. Yet again, Irina found herself marched blindly down the endless hallways before they reached the Major's office. She was shoved inside; her escort followed her in and removed her hood.
"Get that gown off of her," the Major said. Despite Irina's protests, the guard unfastened her handcuffs and ripped off the hospital gown -- the only garment covering her otherwise naked body. "Now, you terrorist bitch... tell us the truth. The whole truth." Irina spat at the Major, but her spittle fell a little short of her target and landed on his desk.
"You really don't understand, do you?" the Major said, walking around his desk. "We're not going to stop." He wound back his arm and delivered a powerful hook to Irina's jaw, which sent her to her knees.
"If you don't start talking, I'll send you back to the interrogator who handled you before. And I'll tell you what he's gonna do. I've seen him do it before. He's gonna take a cattle prod to your pretty little tits. If you don't talk, he'll stick it up your little cunt. If you still don't talk, he'll probably take some pliers to your now-blistered cunt and squeeze until something bleeds."
Irina felt her stomach getting sick at this description.
"He'll probably repeat with the pliers until he's run out of fun things to crush. Maybe then he'll take a break and let his men have a little fun with you -- that won't feel too good, considering you'll already be blistered and bleeding in all of your most sensitive areas."
A tear started welling up in Irina's eyes.
"He has a world of possibilities from there. Maybe he'll whip out the blowtorch or the electric drill, or maybe he'll take the pliers to your nails and your teeth. If you pass out during any of this, by the way, he'll pump you so full of stimulants you won't sleep for days. One thing's for sure, though. He WILL keep you alive until you tell him what he wants. Now, do you prefer that, or are you going to tell me what we want to hear?"
Irina could feel a bit of vomit welling up in her throat. She knew he was deadly serious. She remembered the pain from her interrogation and the horror of her gang rape and realized that they could do much, much worse.
Feeling that she had no choice, Irina broke down. She began to spout what she knew -- leaders, grunts, facial descriptions, meeting locations, and plots that had been in the works when she set out for her mission. The Major quickly recorded everything she had to say.
"I swear to you, that's all I know," Irina said in a defeated tone. "Can I please go back to my cell now? Can I please have some clothes?" The Major nodded; the guard quickly ran out of the room and came back a few minutes later with an orange jumpsuit, virtually identical to the one Irina had been given when she was first brought to the prison.
As soon as she got dressed, the guard cuffed and hooded her once more and led her down twisting hallways until they reached her cell. He opened the door and pushed Irina inside, where he removed the hood and handcuffs.
While Irina languished in her cell, the army was putting the intelligence she provided to good use. After finding some of the facilities she described empty, they struck pay dirt: Over a dozen rebels hiding in an ancient bomb shelter in the backyard of an abandoned lot. A firefight ensued in which several soldiers were injured, but fourteen rebels were killed. Only two were taken alive -- a beautiful dark-skinned immigrant by the name of Komal Oruganti and a somewhat homely young woman named Natalia Markov. In a short amount of time, they found themselves hooded, cuffed, and in the back of a transport headed towards the same facility that held their former comrade.
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