reanbeanmachine | This has spoilers for tocs 2 end game

[That earns him a sharp yank, forcing his head at a rough angle. The man starts talking in a calm voice but with an undercurrent of rough passion, self righteousness.]

This man, Crow Armbrust, AKA C, leader of the criminal organization "the imperial liberation front", assassin, terrorist, will be in these recordings punished for his crimes against his country. The punishments will be submitted by those with grievances against the man, and justice will be served as every one who suffered by his actions is avenged on his flesh. We have undertaken to be the executors of these punishments. I will read the first.

[He drags Crow forward and picks up a piece of paper, reading it.]

Death by drowning.

Death we cannot give, it would unjustly release him from penance, but we will see to it that he serves this sentence all the same.

You may repent now, criminal, if you have the grace to do so.

No thanks.

[He isn't sorry anyway. He won't deny what he did, or that he might deserve whatever's about to happen, but he doesn't regret his actions. He did what he wanted to do. He is sorry for the effect it had on unrelated people, but... not enough to cooperate here.]

You know this is really creepy, right? What kind of fetish are you trying to appeal to?

The desire for closure for those lives harmed by your actions.

[That way too calm and sincere answer is all Crow gets before he's dragged to the tub and his his knees are kicked out, forcing him to kneel beside it.

There is no ceremony, the man uses the hand in Crow's hair to force him forward, bending him until his face his the water and then further so he's submerged to his shoulders. And he's kept there, no matter how he struggles the man is brutally strong and utterly unmoveable.]

[He absolutely struggles, as hard as he can. He was willing to die fighting, but this is altogether too annoying to just accept. He doesn't care if he looks stupid, getting filmed thrashing around still dressed in hospital clothes and bandages. He just cares that it'd be frustrating to die to this kind of sick vigilantism when he was finally going to go home with Rean.

He doesn't want to make all that chasing meaningless. So he holds his breath as long as he can, til he's seeing spots. He fails to free himself, however, and eventually there are the tell-tale bubbles of air escaping his lungs.]

[He is held until his struggles get weak and then he's dragged up, held so he can cough up the water he inhaled and get a deep breath or two before his face is shoved back under the water, not quite as long but still long enough to inhale water. And then it's repeated again. And again. Continuing for an hour, almost drowning, but never quite let to pass out.]

[Once is more than enough as far as Crow is concerned. He wants to protest, but he only has time to, entirely reflexively, gasp for air when he's dragged up. By the time 20 minutes has passed his still-damaged chest hurts like he's dying again. By an hour he's not even thinking coherently. He's been reduces to instinct, just trying to survive.

He's been through a lot, but torture is not on that list. He'd be surprised how much harder it is to handle than he'd assumed, if he were aware of anything but the agonizing need to breathe.

It actually takes him a moment to register he hasn't been shoved back under. When he does... he starts laughing. Laughing and coughing and gagging all at once, even.

He's about to puke.]

[He's dropped on the floor while he had his hysterics, things happening around him. The bed has been removed, in its place is an animal cage, the kind you might hold a tiger in. Too sturdy for any one person to hope to move or escape from. The cameras are still rolling, but the man is picking up chains and a collar, kneeling to fasten them to Crow then walk the other end over to a iron ring in the floor, leashing Crow.]

[He can't really criticize. He knows what self-important vengeance feels like. He would like not to be the object of it, though.

Nothing he can do about that right now though. At least when he does throw up he manages not to roll into it. That's talent right there, given that his body feels like jello and his chest feels like someone's stabbing him in the ribs every time he inhales.]

Hey. I want a cut of your sexy record sales.

[Yeah the sass isn't over.]

Your lack of reflection on your actions is noted.

[He's being picked up by the hair again and dragged into the cage.]

You will spend the night like this, and be given another chance to reflect on your misdeeds. Tomorrow, we begin in earnest.

[The cage is locked and the filth rinsed away, but Crow is not given any way to eat or get dry or sleep comfortably. It's a cold, miserable night, and the chains and bindings are thick and well made, impossible to slip.]

[He really doesn't want to know what's coming tomorrow. On the upside, worrying about that makes it easier not to think about what's already happening.

He couldn't sleep if he wanted, so he spends most of the night contemplating, and trying, potential escapes. The chains are heavy, and he's cold and damp and sore, but he tries his hardest to get free. All that accomplishes is making noise and bruising his own wrists, unfortunately.

By morning hes drifted into an exhausted doze, curled up defensively in a corner and shivering a little. It's cold. He's not in any risk of dying but he isn't all the way healed yet, either, and sitting around damp and stressed is inching his temperature up and making him nauseous.]

[Asset some hours the man and his helpers return, opening Crow's cage and dragging him up.]

Have you contemplated your crimes, terrorist?

[He resists just on principle. He doesn't really want to be, y'know, in a cage, but he also doesn't want to be manhandled, so he digs his heels in.]

I've contemplated your awful hospitality.

[Resistance just means he's being handled more roughly.]

Very well. It wouldn't matter in any case.

[He drops Crow on the floor, holding his hand out, the other members of this little revenge team handing him a number of devices that he starts fastening to Crow.]

We'll continue from yesterday.

[He'd rather be treated roughly than know he's being agreeable, so has has no regrets in struggling. In fact he's trying to jerk away from these mystery devices, too.]

Not interested. Get your hands off me!

[He doesn't care about anyone's revenge fantasy. Bad things happen all the time. His own actions weren't really justified, but in that vein neither is this.]

[Naturally he's being ignored, his hands yanked up by the shackles to get them out of the way as the devices are attached to his skin,]

And now we'll begin, criminal.

[Still holding his arms up, the man presses a switch, activating the orbments and sending shocks through Crow.]

[Crow continues to be difficult even when he's being so well restrained. He's strong enough to be hard to hold onto, but even so he utterly fails to escape.

That's disheartening in itself, but he's too busy trying to get away to be discouraged. And then the switch is flipped and he's too busy screaming.]

[The man smiles, but it's a cold agile. Satisfaction, not happiness. He lets go of Crow, and steps back. When it oils like Crow might pass out he turns the switch off and gives him two minutes to recover.

But then it begins again. It's methodical, and Crow is given only two minutes between each set of shocks.

The actual intensity of the shocks, however, varies greatly. As does the duration. It lasts an hour, like before, but this time after the hour is up the man gestures to one of his helpers and activity starts at one of the tables.]

So criminal, how do you feel?

[He feels like he looks: tired and in pain, twitchy, collapsed in a pile and pressing his face to the floor just for the grounding sensation of cool concrete against hot skin.

If he felt like jelly yesterday, now he feels like pure mush. None of his muscles want to respond to him. Everything burns. And he's emotionally twitchy as well. The off-and-on pain just leaves him bracing for the next blow now that it's stopped.

And he knows there's going to be one. That's about all he does know about this situation. Still, he endeavours to be cool, even with all his nerves blaring warnings.]

Pissed off, that's how.

[The man rolls Crow to his back with his foot than kneels, pulling a syringe from a little box of them and sticking it into Crow's neck above the collar, injecting something solid under Crow's skin.]

Still no remorse.

You will undergo one hour of punishment for every life you've harmed. That is not nearly enough to satisfy the losses of those hurt, but if we took the proper time we would be here for centuries.

You may, at times, feel like you're about to die. But you will not. Rest assured we're monitoring your vitals closely. You will not escape so simply.

If at any point you wish to apologize, we will stop to listen.

[He picks up another syringe and this one injects some sort of clear fluid into Crow's arm.]

We will spend the next three hours on this punishment.

[It feels like fire flowing through his veins.]

You know I'm not the only person who's ever hurt someone.

[There are definitely people who've done way way worse than Crow. He was expecting to maybe go to jail after all that happened, but this? This is beyond a sane punishment. He's not going to accept it.

He can't stop it, but he can make them fight him for every step. Although after all those shocks his struggle has next to no force.]

You're a bunch of sick bastards.

[His voice is tight and hoarse, but he's doing his best not to scream this time. Instead he attempts to get up, as useless as that might be. His pride won't allow him to just lay on the floor and take it.]

Perhaps.

[The man doesn't deny it but he does pull up a chair.]

In any case I'm told this drug is very potent.

[The heat should be spreading through Crow's whole body at this rate, bringing with the pain a humiliating sort of arousal.]

[He's feeling it, but when he realises what's going on he's even more determined not to show weakness. He's flushed, but rather than let himself freak out he just gives the man a withering glare.

At least he's gotten to his feet. That feels better than being on the floor, and he has room to back up as far as the chains will let him.]

Are you sure you're doing this for revenge? Looks to me like it's just for fun.

Are they mutually exclusive, I wonder?

[He does nothing, just watched Crow with that slightly mad light of hatred in his eyes.]

Yeah, kinda.

[What can he do? It hurts enough to make him want to collapse. He's turned on enough to want to squirm, and that makes him feel humiliated enough to run away. But he can't run, and he won't let himself do the rest. He's stuck there, at the end of his chain, angrily trying to rid himself of anything left on his skin, orbment or mark or otherwise. It's gross. He feels gross.]

I can stand here all day, asshole.

Go ahead.

[He seems quite content to wait, watching Crow creepily but still not actually doing anything for now. After all, this is part of it, breaking Crow for revenge doesn't always have to involve touching him at all. Though the hands on approach is far more satisfying.]

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