Players:
Summary: Nick, Warlock and Quenton realize that no matter what happens, they're not beaten.
Date: October 18, 2012
Log Title: We Won't Be Broken
Rating: R
Small Church - Holding Cell
Dim lights hang from the high ceiling giving just enough light to see decently, not that there is much to see in the concrete room. The tall ceiling goes up at least twenty feet and the blinking red lights of cameras in each corner are visible, there is no privacy here. There are no windows and the only door into room seems to be a solid sheet of steel from this side. The sent of stale, musty air, hangs about the room. Bolted against two of the walls, at a height of two feet, are steel benches, which seem to double as the only thing to sleep on as well. A steel toilet, with a sink on the top, is situated in the corner for those who need it.
When he found out that they were going to die the submission had left Quenton. He wasn't angry, no. That wasn't the reason he was fighting anymore. It was for Nick's words about Shane. It was because they thought he had given up. It was a dead man's trigger. That is why he had bitten, punched, used what Connor taught him as best he could, even if it wasn't to any avail. The Rage was cheering him on weakly inside, but it wasn't enough, and eventually the two were thrown in the cell again, after being chained once more with their companions. That's why Quenton was looking beat the hell up, which made his burnt hand, glasgow smile, and 'M' brand almost invisible under bruises and blood.
Nicholas has barely moved in the last day or so, curled up on a spot on the floor only a few feet from the toilet. He's barely eaten in the last few days. He turns to face where Quenton and Warlock are, his open eye, the other one swollen shut, is the only thing that shows that he's awake. "I'm not ready." He groans out, trying to push himself up with his one good arm, wincing, groaning and chains rattling. "To die, I'm not ready."
Warlock is sitting on the far side of the room with his foot pressing down on the shackles binding his wrists, he's been having a hard time looking at the others, he's been left alone lately while the other three have got the brunt of the punishment and while he can't help that he does feel guilty. He turns to look at Nick as he talks, "Thats good, 'cause no one here is dying".
"Pussies," says Quenton, blood leaking from his gums and lower lips, mixing with saliva and just oozing down, him spitting it out. He sniffles, leaning his head against the wall. "Pussies," he repeats, squinting over at Warlock, before coughing, though there's oddly no more fear in his voice, or sadness. Just this odd calm. "You doing okay, Lock?" he wonders, sniffling, trying to get the smell of blood out his nose. To Nick he just shrugs. "If we're going to die there's no more reason to not fight them. You know?"
It takes visible effort for Nicholas to push himself up and prop up against the wall so he's in a sitting position. "I haven't stopped fighting…when I'm in front of them I can fight just when we are alone here….it's when I just feel…" Helpless, alone, afraid, all of the negative emotions. "We are going to die Warlock, just, we can do it with our heads held hight and not let them know they beat us." His eyes glance down at his shackled hands. "Is it stupid that I just want my parents right now?"
"Quenton are you seriously asking if I'm ok?", Lock is lost for words on how to answer for a moment, "I'm ok, I'll be better when we get outta here and you guys see a doctor". He continues pushing his foot against the shackles, "No it's not stupid to want you parents right now Nick, but if you've excepted that you're gonna die, you've stopped fighting, we will get out of this".
"Lock. Stop." It's a barked order, though Warlock might not follow it. "Stop," he repeats, more gently. "Stop giving him false hope. Instead, give him something better. Something to believe in." He wets his lips, looking over to Nick and giving him a smile, though it's made all the more macabre, gruesomely wide because of his new face scar. "You believe in God, Nick,' he reminds. "You want your parents. You're gonna be with them soon."
"Lock….we're in this together don't think for one second we don't care about you or are concerned about you." Nicholas says blinking a few times. "I like your optimism and I want to believe you but…I just can't anymore." And that's when Nick loses it and just starts crying, he's not even trying to hold it in anymore. "I do Quenton but I want someone, just someone to tell me it's going to be alright. When I was a kid I'd get lost easily and I'd get so scared that I'd be lost forever but in the end they were always there to find me. This time…there's no one to find me and tell me everything is okay."
"That's not what I was thinking, just shocked that you guys can go though everything you've been though and still wonder if I was ok", Lock stops on the shackles and moves to the other side of the room, "You guys may not believe it but I still think we're getting out of this…", he sighs, "Between the two of you how much strength do you think you can muster?"
"I don't know. Without my powers? I'd bet around two hundred, maybe a bit more. No more then two twenty," Quenton claims, while he stares down at his shackles, licking his teeth. "That's if I wasn't beat the hell up and so exhausted," he adds, quietly. "Maybe one hundred, one fifty," he mumbles.
Nicholas wipes at his face with his good hand, the broken arm just being pulled along uselessly. "I barely have any." He answers in a horse and shaky voice, breathing in those shuddering breaths that people do after crying. "I can barely walk, everything hurts, even more so when I move….why?"
"We've not got a whole lot to lose now, this collar things feel like they go right into the back of you neck so it's hard to tell what kind of damage removing them by force could do", Lock robs the back of the collar, "I'm the least injured one here, if between all of us we could get the collars off and give me access to my powers we could get out of here, or it could make things worse. It's gotta be worth trying at this point right?"
"Lock, what if it ends up killing you?" wonders the red eyed mutant, his eyes trailing over the other boy. He's crying, too, but there's no sobs from him. The tears do cut through his blood-smeared cheeks. "Not to mention, they can hear us," he adds. "They let us know. It's why they chained us. We start trying to get it off, and then they send the Handler or the guy who branded us in and he —" He cuts off. "You know what? Fuck it. They're gonna kill us anyway." With that he pushes to his feet shakily, beginning to drift closer to Lock.
Nicholas is torn on the idea and he starts to push himself up as well, using the wall to support him. "Are you sure? I'd rather us die together than have one of us accidentally kill Warlock. Can you live with another death on your hands Q?" He starts to take a few shaky steps forward, using the wall to support him. "I know they're going to kill us and if it succeeds…I want it to succeed but if it kills him and there's a miracle that happens in the next few days and he's not with us….damnit, damnit, damnit." He's not sure what to do.
"I'll be fine… probably", Lock takes a deep breath, "If it comes down to it we don't wanna be wondering if there was something else we could've tried, so give it a go quick before they catch on to what we're doing".
"I'm going to Hell, Nick. If there is a God, I'm not going to see my father again, I'm going downtown," Quenton breathes. "If Lock goes down, why not like you, or me, fighting with his head up high. This is the way he wants to go." Quenton draws his tongue over his lips, before moving to behind Lock, grunting. "Grab onto something, and hold on tight," he instructs, beginning to pull as hard as he could at the back of the collar.
Nicholas keeps making his way towards Warlock, stumbling a few times due to putting pressure on his broken leg but he manages to make it over there so he can sit down next to him. "Lock….not matter what happens, we're friends till the end okay?" He says in a shaking voice. "Hold onto me, and if it works…well I'm praying it does." He looks to Quenton and nods. "I don't believe that, even though you've lost control, you're a good person and I don't believe you'd be condemned for that."
"Quenton I know you've done bad things but from what I can tell you honestly try to do the right thing, I don't believe in a specific god but I don't think you can be punished for that either", Lock grabs hold and shuts his eyes, "Thanks Nick, lets just hope the end is a long way away", he takes a deep breath, "Good luck guys".
They've taken his collar off twice, but both times darted him and put him in the stasis field, so Quenton isn't sure how the collar works. Still, he tugs at it, with all the remaining might left in his tortured and beaten and branded body, sweat taking on a sheen again. The ache is terrible. It feels like someone is sawing into Lock's spine, or has sawed in there and was trying to pull it out but just dug into it more. Blood begins to eventually pool, running rivulets down Lock's neck, and the collar doesn't seem anywhere near off.
Warlock yells out in pain, letting go and falling to the floor as it feels like every nerve in his body is being messed with, he tries to get back up again but can't due to the pain, when the collar is released he passes out before he's able to try and move again.
"Warlock!" Nicholas screams and the tears start slipping down his cheeks as he's afraid that it did kill him. "No..no…" He shakes his head and is breathing heavy. "Pulse…have to check his pulse.." Nick starts to fiddle to get his fingers in the right spot on Warlock's neck, trying not to touch the collar too much. After a few silent seconds a look of relief spreads across Nick's face. "He's alive…thank god." He breaths hard and just starts to laugh and cry at the same time. "He's still alive Quenton."
"Shit." Quenton just drops back, hitting the wall, staring down at Warlock, before shaing his head, his breathing suddenly labored. "Shit." He stands again, pushing himself up with a wince and dragging himself over to the bowl, to grab it and begin filling it with water then dropping down next to Nick. "We gotta wake 'em up."
"Let's move him up to the bench, lie him out, elevate his feet." Nicholas knows there isn't much of anything left but he points to the make shift sling that Warlock made for him that's lying on the floor. "It's okay Quenton, it's going to be okay." It's not easy but he picks up Warlock the best he can and half drags him to the bench to try to lie him down. "Once he's lying down, we'll soak that shirt with the water and put it behind his neck for the blood. I'm not really sure about this, but I think the less he moves it might be better. First Aid courses didn't cover this but maybe if we treat him like he's in shock it might help."
As Lock does begin to come round as he's laid on the bench he groans from the pain in his neck before frowning as he opens his eyes, "Ow, fuck guess that didn't work", he goes to look around but his neck hurts too much, "What's the deal with the lights?"
Quenton assists Nicholas, then grabs onto the sling, going through the motions with actual clinical ease by now, perhaps because of what they've been through so far with helping Connor and each other. "Sorry, buddy," he tells Lock weakly. "We did our best." His eyes lift up to the camera a moment, staring at it, before his gaze drfts back to Nick and Lock.
A genuine smile crosses Nicholas' face, the first one in days. "I'm so glad you're alive Warlock." He brushes Warlock's hair away from his forehead. "What do you mean what's with the lights? Do you feel okay?" He looks over at Quenton with his brows furrowed in concern.
The pain from messing with the collar still has Lock very much dazed so not much is adding up, "It's dark, did they turn them off like in the dark room?", he gasps in pain as he tries to look round again, "Are you guys alright?", he's not sure how much he missed.
"… Lock?" Quenton's hand lifts over Warlock's eyes a moment, his own lifting to meet Nick's. "Shit," he repeats. "Lock, the lights are on. Do you see anything at all?"
Nicholas is about to do the same but Quenton's hand moves in front of his eyes first. The smile of relief turns to one of worry. "No Warlock, the lights are still on." His voice is shaky and the sound of panic is there. "Oh god….shit." He echos Quenton.
"The lights are…", Lock frowns again, "No I can't see anything, what's going on?", he should be panicing by this point but is still comming round, nothing is making much sense right now.
"I think we fucked up something in your spine or… something," Quenton mutters, pressing his hand to his face. "Fuck. I think you're blind. Can you move anything below your neck?" he asks, quickly.
Nicholas grips Warlock's hand with his own tightly. "What ever happens we're here for you, okay?" The concern for Warlock has out weighted the self pity. "You can feel my hand holding yours right?"
Warlock grabs hold of Nick's hand, "Err, yeah I can feel it", he moves his right leg aswell to double check that he can move, he's finally starting to come round fully, "What… I'm blind?!"
"Uh… it might be temporary," Quenton tries to assure Warlock, flinching a little. "Or maybe it might, you know. Be the collar, and whatever we done to it." He looks genuinely worried now. "Fuck, man."
Nicholas lets go of Warlock's hand and moves so it's sitting down next to him on the floor. "Let's hope it's temporary. At least it didn't kill him." He doesn't sound so reassured in his voice. "Who knows Warlock, maybe this will make you the next Ray Charles. Fuck, sorry, just…I'm really sorry Warlock. Maybe messing with the collar will help but….no, we can't risk making things worse." (re)
"Nick, I just blinded myself, not sure if it can get much worse, I vote we give it an hour or so and if I can't see give this thing another tug", Lock sounds very much like someone trying to stay calm, "What's the worse that can happen, I can't get blinder right?"
"Are you really sure you want to fuck with this thing more?" asks Quenton, staring down at Warlock before lifting his eyes to the door, watching it, as if expecting something, otherwise as tense as all hell.
"Warlock it can get much worse, you lost your sight, hopefully for a short time but it could be permeant. Worse could be your hearing or paralysis or worse, death. I know we're about to die but what if you're right." Nicholas says to him. "What if you're right and we do end up making it out of this alive….I'm just scared of the worse but it's your choice."
As if in answer to what the three just tried a loud buzzer sounds once for about two seconds in the room and the lights dim. From the ceiling emerges sprinklers, similar to ones for fires, and water starts to pour down on them. The water is cold, almost to the point of feeling like liquid ice, and without any sort of drain on the floor it quickly starts to puddle.
Warlock is about to answer when it seemingly starts raining, "Is it too much to hope that we just got rescued at that's rain hitting me in the face? and that buzzer was that place's self destruct system?"
"Fuck, Nick, help me cover him," Quenton mutters, moving to sort of shift above Warlock, standing again, leaning against the wall and letting the water hit him, already trembling from the cold. "If only," he mutters down.
Nicholas pushes himself up so he's sitting on the bench by Warlock and leans over him the best he can, shivering from the cold. "No, it's those assholes being assholes again. It's not enough that we blinded you in trying to get out of here they have to make sure we're even more miserable as well." Nick turns to look at one of the cameras and offers it his middle finger. "FUCK YOU! YOU ASSHOLES ALREADY WON! FUCK! YOU!" He screams.
Warlock groans and sits up awkwardly, the leftover pain and lack of sight making it harder, "This is your best shot?! A cold fucking shower!, really running out of ideas aren't we boys?!", he reaches out to grab something to pull himself to his feet, "Whoever's watching that fucking camera I want a word!".
Quenton doesn't say anything, himself, furrowing his brow, before grabbing onto Warlock's good arm to steady the boy on his feet while he, too, peers up at the camera with spite. "You know what their biggest problem is," he calls out, breaking his silence, speaking to the camera more then his friends. "They didn't break us. After every fucking thing they did, we're not broken."
"Anything to make us more miserable Lock." Nicholas mutters before looking over at Quenton. "You know what, you're right. They didn't, they didn't win." There's a smile that crosses his face and his teeth chatter a bit as he talks. "What ever happens we can hold our heads high and know that. I'm glad I'm stuck here with you guys."
"Funniest thing here is that after all this, everything they've put us though they're still the ones afraid of us, last they took the three of you they sent fifteen of them, battered and powerless and they sent fifteen", Lock smiles, he would aim that smile at the camera but he's got no idea where it is, "We're still winning".
"So come on," Quenton says to the camera, his red eyes glinting, not with anger, but some flash of something else. "Do your worse. You're beaten." He gestures to his face, to the macabre scar, then to Nicholas's chest, then finally lifts his hand to grip at Warlock's collar. "By a rancher, a pacifist, an autistic guy and a piano player." Yep. He finally admits what he used to do.
"They can't ever break us." Nicholas says before looking up at the cameras. "You can't break us!" He yells. "No matter how many bones you break, cuts you give us, electric shocks or what ever forms of torture not your, nor your stupid Handler, are going to break us." He then looks at Quenton as he realizes something. "Piano player?"
Warlock is about to say something else to the camera when he picks up on the same thing as Nick and turns to look at Quenton. Though this may not be clear as he's looking the wrong way…
"Yeah. I played piano. I liked it a lot. I… cooked, too. And played Dungeons and Dragons. And read Batman comics. Then I got superpowers. And I became a superhero. I didn't have the Rage. I could control my strength, and could fly. Life was good," Quenton shares, swallowing thickly. "Then uh… something happened, something bad, and I lost control. Became the jackass you guys know." He shrugs. "This is me now. Take it or leave it. Needless to say, you guys are uh… my best friends, now. We're going to die together."
The water continues to pour down on them and there's a good six inches of it covering the ground. "I sucked at cooking, never played Dungeons and Dragons..unless you count that Playstation 2 game, but I think we probably all changed from who we were before we came to the school." Nicholas looks over at Quenton and smiles. "You're my best friend too, both of you. I don't think you're a jackass just…when you lose someone you care about forever, it changes you. I was a lot happier back home, I used to compete all the time in Horse shows."
Warlock shrugs and goes with it, "I play guitar, used to skateboard alot and have a famous dad and brother who's on his way. Also handly as this water seems to be getting higher am a very good swimmer", he thinks then clicks his fingers, "Oh and I'm technicly Canadian", he reaches out to put a hand on each of their shoulders, "Not many people I'd trust to pull a chunk of mechinery out of my neck". Lock grins, "And to think most parents send their kids to camp to make friends".
"Well. Now look at us," Quenton murmurs, glancing over himself, then at the ground. "I loved to swim. I really used to. Then I could fly. And it was like… swimming through the air," he mumbles, while he grunts to the blind boy, "Help me get Nick onto the bench, standing."
"What?" Nicholas says as the idea of him standing isn't appealing to him. "I'm already on the bench, I'll be okay, just, putting pressure on my leg is worse." Especially after all the abuse he's gone through since. "I never got sent to camp, I think my parents were too afraid I'd get lost. People always think I'm joking when I talk about getting lost but, I don't know my left from right." He admits.
Theres a shout for the three of them to get down on the floor before a group of Purifiers burst in and grab Lock, as he's pulled out of the room he gets his on the back of the head with on of their rifles to stop him from struggling before the door is slammed shut again.
