Breaking Their Hold

"Cut him. Slowly, this time. Make sure he feels each and every incision."

Zack struggled against the chain that was holding him against the white wall of the small cell he was always brought to, but he already knew it was no use to fight against the metal. He couldn't get away and he couldn't stop them from hurting him. But even if he couldn't do that, he knew that he had to keep his mouth shut. He would take any amount of torture Erich Schlagger had in mind for him; he would die before he ratted out his sister's location.

He knew that it was a very high likelihood that he was going to end up dying here before Melissa and the others returned with the Canadian officials. But he also knew that if he had to die in order to save her life and help free the oppressed people in this country, he'd die proudly. He was going to take this torture, and he wasn't going to risk them finding out about Mel, Jimmy, and Matt's plan. Of course, they knew nothing of Pierre's double agent status. They assumed he'd gone off the grid to find Mel, and Zack couldn't help but chuckle. They'd never find his sister if Pierre was with her.

He groaned and winced when he felt a sharp pain hit the side of his head and he looked up to see one of the Government agents standing there, his fist at the ready and a sadistic smirk on his face. He tried to pull his head away from the other man and then bit his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming out loud. The hit had been painful, and he knew that it was only going to get worse.

He knew that what they had in store for him was truly going to be sick. He'd felt their torture before, but he knew it had never been as bad as what they would do now. Never before had Schlagger issued his men to cut him. He knew that this could end extremely badly for him, but he still didn't care. His life was far less important than that of his sister's.

"You can stop this from happening, you know," Schlagger tried to tell him, a sick smirk on his face as he crouched in front of Zack. "If you just tell me what I want to know, none of this has to keep happening. Just tell me already."

"Fuck you," Zack growled out in anger. He didn't care if his words would get him more punishment; he didn't care that he was potentially going to die within the next few hours. All he cared about was the fact that this man was Satan incarnate and that he deserved the most foul death a person could die. Even if that never happened, however, he knew that someday, a fate worse than death was awaiting Erich Schlagger.

When the Canadian Government and INTERPOL got a hold of him, Zack knew that they'd make sure the man suffered greatly for what he had done to the United States during his reign of terror. They would make sure that he was put through so much punishment he'd wish he was dead. And Zack knew that even if he wasn't there to witness it all, it would happen. Mel wouldn't fail them. She'd get to Canada and with her testimony, she was going to make sure that Erich Schlagger met that fate.

Schlagger sighed and then slapped Zack as hard as he could in his face before he pushed his hand back through his hair. He narrowed his eyes at the man again and then spat at him before he kicked his feet roughly. Schlagger moved before he could connect his foot with any part of him, but that didn't matter to Zack. All he cared about was that he'd riled the man up.

"Make sure they're deep cuts," Schlagger hissed. "And don't spare any pain. Keep cutting until he says something."

Without another word, Schlagger walked out of the white room, the heels of his expensive shoes click-clacking on the white linoleum floor as he left. Zack knew that once he was gone, the pain would start. And he knew it was going to hurt. This would possibly be the worst thing Schlagger had done to him thus far but he knew that he could last. He knew that this wouldn't kill him if he didn't let it, and he had a high will for living.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked the Government officials with a snarky smirk on his face. "He did say start. What the fuck are you doing standing around?"

Before Zack could say another word, the first of the two men lashed out with a box-cutter. Zack dodged his head out of the way and he felt a stinging pain from his chin all the way up to his ear. He knew that the razor had left a cut there, and if that was any pain to judge the rest by, it was going to be hard to withstand through this. But he also knew that he could do this.

"Where is she, Baker?" The second man asked before slowly dragging the tip of a searing hot blade across Zack's bare chest. The green-eyed teen let out a hiss of pain and then turned his head to the side again before he looked down at the floor.

Zack didn't say a word. He chose to keep his mouth shut, knowing that if he said one word, it would all be over. All it would take for them to find Melissa, Matt, and Jimmy would be one small clue and everything would fail. Zack couldn't let that burden fall on his shoulders. He couldn't be responsible for stopping this country from being saved, just the same as he couldn't allow the pain that was coursing through his veins to have any kind of influence over anything he said or did right now.

Zack closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip to stop from crying out when the pain started to get worse. He couldn't let this pain bother him and he couldn't allow the fact that all he wanted to do was break down happen. He needed to stay strong. He needed to get through this pain so that his sister's life wouldn't be in jeopardy.

"Just say it, kid. We know you wanna," the other man told him as he sliced a deep gash into the side of Zacky's arm. That pain was too much for Zacky to handle and he let out a sharp, frustrated cry of pain before he started lashing out with his legs in an attempt to keep his tormentors away from him.

"I'm not saying a fucking word to you!" He yelled at them before he started writhing in pain again. All he could see when he opened his eyes was the blinding white walls and floors of the room, made harsher by the fluorescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the blood that was starting to seep out of the shallow wounds left all across his body.

The men who were doing this knew what they were doing. They were skilled, and Zack could see that. They weren't leaving cuts that would kill him; they weren't leaving wounds that would let him bleed out. They were just barely scratching the surface on some cuts, in fact, and those perhaps hurt worse than the gashes might have.

"Oh, I think you will," the other man chuckled before the razor sliced its way through the flesh of Zacky's shoulder blade. He held back a hiss of pain and then narrowed his eyes angrily at the men doing this to him. He hated them with a burning purple passion right now and all he wanted was for them to drop off a cliff.

Don't think like that, Zack. That's just the desperation talking. You can't get desperate. That'll lead to a lapse in judgment. Stay focused and stay strong. Mel needs you. You need to protect her. Take this for her, he told himself mentally as he closed his eyes.

He didn't know how much more of this pain he could handle, but he knew that even past his level for pain tolerance, he needed to make sure he didn't say a word about where his sister was headed. He needed to keep her safe and the only way he could do that was by keeping his silence. All he could hope for was that she got to Canada soon. He needed her to get there, otherwise this country was only going to get worse.