Let's Start A Riot

Chapter Fifteen - Seeing Isn't Believing

Marcus finally moves, his reply being a low chuckle and a shake of his head.

"Fine." The person says bluntly, stepping back into the darkness.

The audio feed picks up the sound of something metal being dragged across the floor, which is followed by little sparks of light barely visible on the cameras.

I gasp in shock. "Wait they're not actually going to—"

I am cut off by the low buzz of electricity and can only watch in despair as the person jabs the prongs of two electric leads into Marcus's stomach, making his muscles contract and convulse tightly from pain. The person holds the leads there for a few seconds and I see Marcus's grip on the chains tighten, his biceps, triceps, and every other arm muscle bulging as they tense. Not only is he getting goodness knows how many volts of electricity pumped through him right now, but it is also being magnified by the water and metal cuffs on his wrists.

Marcus holds firm, his teeth gritting but he refuses to make a sound, just holding firm until the person takes the leads away. I charge over to Hartley and barely keep my voice below a shout, "What the fuck is this? You're going to kill him!"

Hartley just sighs. "It won't kill him – that's what all of these doctors and scientists are for, it's enough to put him in a good amount of pain but it won't give him any long-lasting damage."

"But this isn't right! Why should he be getting real torture when the rest of us aren't?" I protest.

"Because I'm following orders from the top. Have you ever disobeyed a direct order from the Director of MI6, Patience?" He snaps, turning his head to me, leaning into my space, venom and command puncturing each of his words. "No? Well unless you would like to be receiving 'real torture', I suggest you keep your mouth shut like the rest of us."

I stand in a stunned silence as Hartley resumes speaking into the microphone, dismissing me with an irritated wave of his hand. I take a step back to Sarah and Hugo who do me the curtesy of ignoring the outburst and reprimand, and as much as I didn't want to, I can't help but let my eyes wander back to the screens, the only thought in the forefront of my mind being that this is Marcus's own father's doing.

"One name, it's all I need." The person taunts, pressing one of the leads back into Marcus's skin, but Marcus just laughs through gritted teeth, his eyes covered by his dark hair. It is a laugh filled with mirth, with mocking.

Oh yeah, it's confirmed, this man is a complete sociopath.

The person who I still can't make out throws the leads back into the shadows, seemingly in a fit of rage. They finally step directly into the light surrounding Marcus and I'm not even sure I'm surprised when I see who it is.

Director Thomas grabs his son's chin and roughly pulls it up, exposing Marcus's face.

It is like looking at a dead person.

His skin is pale and clammy, his eyes void of any emotion and his face is relaxed now that the electric rods have been removed from play; not one sign that he was ever in pain, afraid or angry. He just looks his father dead in the eye as though he is staring at a brick wall – blankly.

The chain holding him rattles from the sudden movement, but the rest of the room is eerily quiet, along with our own. No one moves, no one speaks – no one even dares to breathe as they watch the father and son face off with rapt attention.

"Why won't you just give them up, Marcus? You'll kill both them and you if you act like this in the field, this is only the tests! You would have a perfect record if not for your insolence during these exercises, why won't you do this one damn thing?" Director Thomas seethes, inches from Marcus's face.