[[AU]] Homophobia

[downwithmyship]

Jack stayed the night in the Lounge for Hunter's sake. He's been waiting for his giant to show up. The shine hasn't worn off the thrill of letting the young man fuck him. It's early yet, though Jack is impatient. Still, it surprises him when there's a knock at the door. Hunter is certainly chivalrous enough to knock when he knows damn well he's

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[shooting_blind]

Saturday takes one of the other peaches from the counter and makes his way slowly to Jack. He wants to be out of here before that huge red head shows up, but is making a point to show Jack he has all the time int he world. Also when someone is in a rush the most irritating things you can do is drag ass. Everything he does is part of the game now. Every carefully chosen word and step.

On his way he rights the coffee table, wanting no evidence of foul play. Just the fruit laying in the kitchen out of some perverse desire for Hunter to see it there.
He faces Jack without any sort of expression. There's no boiling hate to offset his actions. There's not anything.
"It doesn't matter why."
He opens the door and steps out.
"You've risked your life every time you've been with a man. You must want to die. If you've changed your mind now I have what will stop the poison... at least I think this is the right one."
He looks thoughtful over the peach in his hand.

"No matter. I have more. Down the hall."
He points to an open door with a light shining. Follow the light, Jack.
"I could give you this-"
He holds the fruit out to Jack with no intention of letting the man grab it.
"Or you could come with me. Tick tock."

[downwithmyship]

This is about fucking men? Jesus... It's not even as if Jack made that decision for himself, the first time. Now he's going to be punished with death for buggery, of all things? Surely, this isn't the greatest of his sins. Surely. If Pearl were here...or Hunter. Anyone.

Jack feels his heart slowing. His arteries ache and his whole body begins, bit by bit, to rebel to the invading chemicals. The only chance at a timely antidote lies with Saturday, but the man wants Jack dead. What possible use is this knowledge?
"Y..y'want t'kill me. Why...Why should I trust you?"

He does try to grab for the fruit --for the only hope of salvation. Who wouldn't? Even when you know it will be pulled away. He'll follow in time. What choice does he have? But he knows it's a trap. Just not 'why'. Not really.

[shooting_blind]

"No, Jack. I want to save you. You're the one that came to me. Twice. Begging me to see what you were doing. Why choose me if death isn't what you were after?"
Pretty soon Jack is going down, and Saturday wants him to walk with him of his own free down the hall. It's so much sweeter when they follow you to Hell. He gently pushes the pirate against the wall with one hand to hold him steady. He needs to be in the hallway now because he's listening for people coming. Jack probably is too.

[downwithmyship]

"Whu... Came to you? I.. Nnnn"

Jack is put against the wall before he can collapse. He's been poisoned before and survived. He's drained the stuff from his own veins, nearly bleeding to death. But he lived. He wants to make himself vomit, but Saturday won't allow for it. He works at gagging even as he's held up. Between feeble responses and his usual, insatiable curiosity.

"Only...only came t'you once. Thought you were..someone else."

It seems almost funny that Saturday should remind him even more of his twin right now than before.
He listens closely, desperate for someone to come close. Anyone. Just stop this.

[shooting_blind]

"Who could you have mistaken me for? We look exactly alike."
He sounds annoyed here. He didn't sound annoyed before. But Jack is trying to weasel out of this. Also throw up.
"If you try to vomit I'm going to plug your mouth and nose and massage your throat until you swallow every drop. Besides, it's in your blood already. Far too late for that. I can feel it against my hand with every sickening beat of your heart."

No one is coming.
"Twice. The time you attacked me and when you preformed devious acts with your lover in front of my apartment. You're wasting time. Every second you spend lying to me and asking questions you have answers for you get weaker. And slower. Your strength is less. Things blur. The room spins. You have a lot to do before you've earned your life back.
You have to prove to me you want to live."

[downwithmyship]

"Ex..exactly. S'why y'look like...my twin."
Even Jack is unsure if he's making any sense anymore. The reminder of how slow and aching his heartbeat is only makes it more obvious to him as well. He coughs under Saturday's hold, but doesn't bother bringing up any more bile. His killer is right. It's too late for that.

If not for the severe circumstances, Jack would correct Saturday. He would point out he was having deviant acts performed upon him. That surely can't be held as any fault of his own. It hardly seems worth wasting the breath right now, though. What difference to semantics make to a psychopath?

"I...do... I've died... twice already...if...tha's not proof enough... Nnng."

[shooting_blind]

Twin?
This is the only thing that makes him pause. But Jack is too busy dying to notice and it is just a pause.
The rest of all that is taken as delirium. It can happen. Saturday is busy getting Jack into that room before the big one shows.

"Riiight. Anyway!"
Cheery now.
"I want you to follow me. Into that room. If you can make it allll the way down that hallway without keeling over then I'll give you the antidote. Honestly. It really is in this peach. Even if you don't believe me.. if you want to live you'll give it your best. But before you die you will become paralyzed. Do you know that word? Paralyzed. It means that you no longer have control over your limbs. You will be as unable to move as if I cut off your arms and legs. It's pretty upsetting. I'm giving you warning so you know how much time you have. Ready? Go! Quick, like a bunny!"
Saturday lets Jack go and walks down the hall. Slowly. He'll let Jack keep up with him.

[downwithmyship]

"Whu..."

Jack can't even respond. There are no choices anymore. Just complacency or death. Probably death either way. Jack will always do what it takes to survive, though. Always. So he follows. He follows with stumbling, dragging footsteps. He follows with legs like lead. He follows, even after falling once and using a wall to pull himself to his feet.

He'll make it to the room. He'll make it if he has to do it on his knees. He'll make it, because he knows what paralysis is. Because he's almost as afraid of that as death. Maybe more so.

[shooting_blind]

Saturday's pleasure as Jack follows him to the torture room despite pain and an irregularly beating sluggish heart pleases and comforts him the way cool clean sheets and a hot bath would a normal person.
He keeps the pirate in his peripheral vision, not wanting to miss a second of this struggle. In this way Jack is beautiful. This will to live and do anything it takes. This is the only art Saturday understands.

By time Jack goes to his knees he's farther then Sat thought he would get, but still has a third of the way to go. The agent turns and walks backward. Careful steps keeping just inches in front of the pirate.

When Jack gets close enough to see inside the room it's bright. There are plastic sheets hanging down the walls and covering the floor. Flat tables with straps and machines with wires. Powertools...

[downwithmyship]

Jack wants to run the second he sees the room. His mind can't even make sense of most of it. Still, there's an instinctual terror that fires through every synapse in his brain; through every aching nerve in his body. Trying to get to his feet only takes him a fraction of a foot away, though, before he falls to his hands and knees. His breathing is sharp, short and desperate. He's not getting enough air. He's dizzy and his vision is graying at the edges. Still, he won't allow himself to pass out.

"P..please, no...."
He struggles, hopelessly trying to turn; trying to drag himself from this den of horrors before the nightmare can really begin.

[shooting_blind]

Poor thing.
Some human part of his brain too deep down to be completely bleached by his government feels bad for Jack. It's the face. Which is, ironically, also what doomed Jack in the first place. Life is complicated.

Well, it was nice while it lasted, but the fag is too smart to go into that room. He may be looking as a terrible death by poison, but he made the right choice wen faced with torture for who knows how long. Saturday would like to think we would do the same thing.
His shoes crunch over plastic as he goes into the room alone.
"I'll trade you. Enough of this peach to keep you from going stiff and breathing right. Your heart wont have to work so hard. Some relief."
Saturday kneels on the plastic to get more to Jack's level.
"I don't want you dying like this any more then you do."
Complete lie but... no matter what Jack chooses he's coming inside.

[downwithmyship]

"Y...you'll kill me. H..hardly..see...the point."

The pirate collapses. He needs to rest if he intends to get any further away, but he won't come closer either. Fighting his death is one thing, but opting for a worse one is hardly in his benefit. Jack's a negotiator. The offers on the table at present don't suit him one bit. Still, he doesn't have long left to argue.

[shooting_blind]

Saturday is out of time. He doesn't want to risk someone coming up and seeing this. Especially Pearl or Hunter. Hunter's body is too big and Sat doesn't want to have to deal with getting rid of it. Killing Pearl would shut Jack down. The woman seems to be his wife or something. Something very close to him. Her death might put him in shock and take away from this. So he gets back up again and grabs Jack by the hair.
Saturday pulls him through the door like a caveman.

Under all that plastic is soundproofing. He shits the door. It locks with a THUNK sound. An electronic keypad is used and a heavy bar as well. Jack is then pulled the same way to a chair and lifted up into it. He's strapped down at the ankles and wrists behind his back. Saturday works very quickly before it's too late. He kneels down in front of the chair and bites off a piece of the fruit. It's taken out of his mouth- wet with juice and his own spit. He holds it to the pirate's mouth.
"Eat. While you can still swallow."

[downwithmyship]

Jack can't even scream properly as he's pulled into the room. The sound is weak and strangled. Almost a wheeze. It's pitiful and pained. He can't even fight this. His struggling amounts to little more than an inconvenience for Saturday, and not much of one. Before he knows it, Jack's bound and shackled to a chair with nothing to do but await whatever torture suits Saturday's whims.

When the antidote is offered, he thinks of spitting it out. Thinks of refusing it in favor of an honorable death. But he can't. Jack is stubborn and a coward. He can't bare to willingly face his own death when there's any option at all. If he buys himself time, he may yet get free. Slowly, painfully, and begrudgingly he swallows the warm, wet bit of fruit. 'Like Persephone in Hades', he thinks, but doesn't voice it. He simply glares at Saturday and hopes like hell that this really does ease his pain and let him think again.

[shooting_blind]

"Is that what I look like when I'm beaten and surly?"
The antidote works faster then the poison. There's that at least. And really it was less a poison and more a sort of anesthetic that would have eventually frozen Jack's limbs and then heart and lungs. Same difference.

He holds the rest of the fruit to Jack, letting the man take several more bites. As he eats and juice runs down Saturday's arm he carefully pets the pirate's dirty hair.
"There. All better now. No dying for you after all."
he sits back on his heels with his arms around his knees, watching Jack. Juice drips on the plastic from his hand.

"Let me know when you're ready to start."

[downwithmyship]

Jack snarls, but he won't take the fruit from his mouth to argue or insult. The slow, creeping loss of function in his limbs stops. It's all blissfully quick to reverse, though never quick enough. How could it be? Tired and terrified, he gnaws greedily at every bit of fruit offered him, now that he knows it helps.

He hates the feeling of this madman petting him. Hates it because he has no right to do something Jack normally likes. He jerks away, but can't go far. Not when he's tied and needs that peach. Needs it like air.

He licks his lips, looking both curious and insanely angry as he considers the question.
"Hardly see where it would matter."