scribe-requested fic again!
100_situations
Prompt 56: CHOKE
Warnings/Summary: ANGST ALERT!
Title: Rinse and Repeat (oh, ha ha, silly title)
Ace doesn't know the interrogator's name. Doesn't know the names of the two Marines by his sides, the ones who shove his head under for three whole minutes this time before they pull him up.
It felt like forever.
Ace chokes, splutters, gasps, all composure having shattered two hours ago, which - coincidentally - is two hours after they first started, two weeks and two hours after he first came here.
"Let's try again," the interrogator states dispassionately. His face hasn't twitched a single muscle, except when he speaks. "Tell me the names of your contacts in Marine Intelligence, and we'll stop."
Ace manages half of a bitter laugh, before the hands on his head and neck force him under once more, and this time his mouth fills with water. He struggles, kicks and bucks, and the weight on his head crushes him under.
Kicking slows. Struggles grow feeble. Vision blacks.
He wakes on the cold, tile floor, slick with water and blood, and coughs up more water; there's nothing left to throw up. The Marine who'd given him CPR has his gun ready; the other Marine wraps a hand through Ace's hair and drags the pirate back to his feet, gasping and yelping.
"You've wasted four minutes of our time. Let's try again," the interrogator states dispassionately. "Tell me the names of your contacts in Marine Intelligence, and we'll stop."
They do it one more time, and don't need to do any more after that. Despair and names spill from Ace's lips, and he's choking not on water but on utter self-loathing.
Portgas D. Ace is weak. When the arrests begin, the whole world will know it.
Prompt 56: CHOKE
Warnings/Summary: ANGST ALERT!
Title: Rinse and Repeat (oh, ha ha, silly title)
Ace doesn't know the interrogator's name. Doesn't know the names of the two Marines by his sides, the ones who shove his head under for three whole minutes this time before they pull him up.
It felt like forever.
Ace chokes, splutters, gasps, all composure having shattered two hours ago, which - coincidentally - is two hours after they first started, two weeks and two hours after he first came here.
"Let's try again," the interrogator states dispassionately. His face hasn't twitched a single muscle, except when he speaks. "Tell me the names of your contacts in Marine Intelligence, and we'll stop."
Ace manages half of a bitter laugh, before the hands on his head and neck force him under once more, and this time his mouth fills with water. He struggles, kicks and bucks, and the weight on his head crushes him under.
Kicking slows. Struggles grow feeble. Vision blacks.
He wakes on the cold, tile floor, slick with water and blood, and coughs up more water; there's nothing left to throw up. The Marine who'd given him CPR has his gun ready; the other Marine wraps a hand through Ace's hair and drags the pirate back to his feet, gasping and yelping.
"You've wasted four minutes of our time. Let's try again," the interrogator states dispassionately. "Tell me the names of your contacts in Marine Intelligence, and we'll stop."
They do it one more time, and don't need to do any more after that. Despair and names spill from Ace's lips, and he's choking not on water but on utter self-loathing.
Portgas D. Ace is weak. When the arrests begin, the whole world will know it.