Name, Rank and Serial Number

Chapter 1

"Whoa, whoa, really? Shooting me? That's a bit unoriginal, isn't it? I took you for a man who derives great pleasure in a prolonged, perhaps, even leisurely sequence of torturous pre-execution-style exercises, culminating in a drawn out, life snuffing procedure."

Billy didn't know why he was remembering that speech. At that time, it had been just a string of verbal stalls for time. As he thought about it now, he didn't think that any of it would come to fruition in reality so soon after. How wrong he had been and he had been wrong his share of times.

It's not that he hadn't ever been in the situation he had found himself in before, being a CIA agent and prior to that as part of British Intelligence, you prepared yourself for the time when you would be faced with torture at the hands of whatever enemy it was who had captured you. He had been in that position in the past and for better or for worse, he had a pretty good idea of what was to come, but unlike the other times, he wasn't alone this time. What hurt and worried him the most was that poor, young Rick would be there to face it as well. It's not that Rick could have avoided the eventuality any more than he could have, but Billy had taken a liking to their new recruit. He had felt a need to protect him, had seen a bit of himself in younger, more idealistic days in Rick and had hoped to spare him the agonies of the job for as long as possible and reserve the victories of it for him so that he would never lose his idealism as Billy had, at least not so soon after joining the Company, but it was not to be. Even more upsetting for him was not so much the torture, to him or to Rick, for that matter, because sometimes pain inflicted on oneself was more endurable than to watch another suffer, but that Billy had already surmised that their captors had figured out that the way to break Rick was through his idealism and principles. It was a way that direct torture never could accomplish. Billy worried that they would crack him by using him as a weapon against Rick's humanity.

Shortly after they had been captured and imprisoned into the hellhole they were in, Billy had felt it his responsibility to coach Rick on what was to come.

"I want you to listen to me, all right? I fear that until Michael and Casey get to us, our lovely captors here are going to have a little fun at our expense –"

"Torture," Rick said, his voice shaky and Billy felt empathy for him.

"Yeh, I'm afraid so, but there's something even worse than that and I need you to promise me that no matter what happens, you will NOT break."

"What do you mean?" Rick asked, the fear in his voice rising.

"I've been around this block enough times to know that the physical torture is one thing, after awhile, you can almost control that pain, but it's the psychological games that they'll play which will have a more devastating effect. I know you well enough to know that they will play your idealism and humanity against you. It's not a weakness, lad, but it has no place in what we're about to face. I need you to promise me that no matter what they do to me, you will not break."

"Of course, and the same goes for you," Rick said, too simply and quickly for Billy's taste.

He recognized the denial in the statement; the "it will never come to that" mantra that he knew so well and that he also knew didn't work when reality finally showed itself.

"Rick, I'm serious. I need you to understand clearly, this isn't a drill. This is real. You're not in a classroom where they tell you about this in the sterile sanctity of desks and Powerpoint presentations. In this moment, when there are no wounds, no blood, no bruises, no cries, moans, or screams it's easy to declare that you will be able to hold firm, to be noble and strong, but when it does begin and you do see the blood, the wounds, the bruises, hear the unavoidable sounds of suffering no matter how strong a man's will, it will become easier to surrender to the coercion, to convince yourself that the captors are telling you the truth, that they will spare me if you just give in. I need you to know that in this scenario there are no truths like that, only lies. There is no bargaining with people like these. Do you get me?"

Rick felt a shiver run down his back. Billy was preparing him for something he had had experience with and suddenly, he felt completely and utterly afraid.

'Yeh, yeh," Rick stuttered, the shock finally hitting him.

"Good, because I mean it. No matter what they do to me, no matter what you hear and see, you MUST NOT give in to any bargains they present you. Hold on because Michael and Casey will get here. It just may not be in time to avoid the inevitable. I'll do the same, but Rick, trust me when I tell you, that there will NEVER be a moment where blame or recrimination will enter my being, all right? I want you to believe that I would rather die than watch them break you to save me because saving our lives is not their goal and it never will be. The only way you could ever fail me is by surrendering your beliefs to keep me alive. That will damage you in ways that torture could never do to me. Is that clear?"

Rick looked into Billy's determined gaze and nodded. Rick found himself on the verge of tears, not for himself or for what he would be facing, but for the absolution of guilt that Billy was giving him at that moment. By telling him that he would never blame him for essentially doing nothing while their captors tortured him was achingly reassuring and that somehow had given him strength, something he knew Billy had intended to do. Billy nodded back.

Suddenly the door opened then one guard gripped Billy's shoulder and the other took Rick. They were both heavily armed so overtaking them was out of the question not without having a firm escape route or an idea of what obstacles might be in their way. Billy then gave Rick a look as if to comunicate that he was ready for whatever was to come and that instilled both confidence and fear.

"Once more unto the breach," Billy quoted Shakespeare.

ChaosChaosChaos

They were escorted into a room with two chairs, facing each other, but far enough part so as prevent them from helping each other. Billy was placed in one, Rick, the other. As Billy could have predicted, they tied his arms down to the arms of his chair. So much so he wondered if cutting off his circulation was part of the torture and if amputation would be a welcome relief. Rick had been restrained as well, but seemingly less aggressively from Billy's vantage point. All the while, Billy's gaze never left Rick's, the expression on his face bordering on confidence with a touch of smugness. He didn't give the guards any thing to read other than calm, cool defiance. If the situation weren't so dire, Rick might have smiled, but as much as Billy was putting on a brave face, Rick couldn't muster the same arrogance. He knew that made him easy to read and vulnerable, but he couldn't stop himself.

The guards then stood aside, waiting, as if automatons.

"How you holding up there, lad?"

"Okay," Rick said unconvincingly.

"I have to say that so far, this has been quite a retreat. I've experienced worse."

It never ceased to amaze Rick at how easily Billy's jibes came even under the most extreme of situations.

The door opened again and a large man in a suit along with a smaller man carrying a briefcase entered. The smaller man went over to a little table behind Billy. He placed his case on it and opened it. Inside were steel instruments glinting from the harsh bright light on the ceiling. Rick swallowed hard. Though he couldn't exactly see what kind of instruments they were, his mind envisioned the movie Marathon Man. Dustin Hoffman had been tortured by the Nazi dentist played by Laurence Olivier and the gruesome images had left an indelible impression on him. Billy couldn't see what was in the case because it was behind him, probably done so on purpose, but the paled palor and squinted expression on Rick's face had told him all he had needed to know and it was all bad.

The larger man came over, stood between them then turned to Billy.

"Who are you and what is your purpose here?"

Billy smiled.

"The name is Bond, James Bond," he said in that Sean Connery accent he had showcased for Doris Bulchek in Counterfeiting and for which hadn't moved or swooned the older woman, she favoring the Toby McGuire-sized man that Rick had represented.

"So, we're playing it that way, are we?" The large man said as he turned to Rick. "You too?"

"I think I'm only required to give you my name, rank, and serial number."

"I think you've both watched too many spy movies."

"Well, then our career choices weren't for naught," Billy joked.

The large man turned to a guard and gave a signal that neither Billy nor Rick had detected. The guard came over, took the butt of his rifle and slammed it into Billy's face then into his gut. He barely grunted, but Rick had seen his hands fist in subtle reaction. Rick struggled against his restraints instinctively, knowing that he was giving himself away, revealing too much, but he couldn't help it, his drive to help Billy, no matter how improbable it was, was overpowering.

Billy felt the hard contact into his face then the swift change towards and into his gut. He had anticipated the blow there and though there was pain, he had learned to take such impacts through muscle control using his mixed martial arts training. Casey may be the human weapon and of course had skills and control well beyond his own meager capabilities, but Billy knew that reliance on one man's mastery over subduing enemy combatants wasn't practical in situations where that man was not present as was the case now so secretly, during his off-hours, he had trained. It was as much to make sure he could protect his fellow operatives, as it was to use it as he was now. He took in a breath.

"Is that all you got, mate? You hit like a girl," Billy taunted.

The guard responded with more punches and though Billy was managing to hold his own, he knew that there would be a threshold where he wouldn't be able to fend off the blows anymore. Rick could only watch in helpless horror, resisting his restraints only causing scrapes and chafing. The large man signaled again to the guard and he then turned towards Rick. Billy saw what was coming and adrenaline from anger fueled some recovery. The guard punched Rick in the same manner and it took Billy every effort to not react. If he showed any concern, any weakness, Rick would pay for it even more as the tables would then be turned and Billy couldn't afford that. The man signaled the guard again and he stepped away from Rick. Billy was impressed at how well the young operative had fared against the barrage of blows.

The man then nodded towards the man with the case and he pulled out a small, yet intimating looking blade. It looked like a larger version of a scalpel. Billy thought to himself, of all of the kinds of weapons that could be used, nothing brought fear and dread to even the most stoic of men more readily than a sharp blade. Size didn't matter because all blades were deadly, they each could cause immeasurable pain in the hands of a skilled torturer.

"Ah, so I see we're moving on to the big guns, or, rather, knives, I mean," Billy said, his bravado unwavering if through the occasional shaky, recovering breath.

"It seems obvious to me that both of you have been trained to endure pedestrian methods, but experience has taught me that there isn't a man alive who can withstand more, how shall I put it? Creative measures."

The man with the blade approached Billy, rolled up his sleeve and exposed his left arm. He instinctively wanted to retract away from it, but knew he couldn't. He also realized that there could be one minor flaw in his plan to turn the torture away from Rick. His bravado may get misinterpreted as making him the obvious martyr of the two of them. That could turn their "attentions" towards Rick. He couldn't let that happen. As he watched the torturer bring the blade down then cut into his skin, scraping the blade lightly across, but drawing a small, thin stream of blood, he flinched. It was a shallow cut, but Billy realized that the blade had been coated with something, a burning sensation penetrated the small wound and he clenched and hissed as pain radiated up his arm, to his shoulder, then into his chest. He threw his head back in pain. It felt like a snake crawling up his arm and into his chest then settling there, gnawing his heart.

Rick's expression was one of agonized helplessness. He kept silent, but it took everything he had not to scream at the man to stop. The larger man noticed it as did Billy and he knew what he had to do even if it would be cruel to Rick. He had to let go of his carefully crafted control.

"I see that you are not as impenetrable as you let on," the large man said to Rick.

Rick cast him an angry glare. "Leave him alone."

"Gladly, but only you can give your colleague release."

Billy shook his head then stiffened against the pain. "Bugger."

Truth be told, he didn't think he had to fabricate his discomfort. This was new territory even for him. Rick watched, keeping Billy's words to him in his head to stave off any chance of giving into his innate need to help him.

"Do you like our new method?" The large man asked, a smile on his face.

"It's a delight," Billy grunted. "I must have the recipe."

"Oh there's more where that came from. I think we should let your friend think on what he's seen and will be seeing later. It might just change his mind."

Billy didn't have a witty retort as pressure in his chest choked anything that was on his lips. The guards released the restraints and guided them both roughly back to the cell. Once tossed in they locked the door. Rick rushed over to Billy, who was on his knees, taking shallow, quick breaths. He helped him sit more comfortably on the floor even though every move caused Billy to clench and stiffen. He then suddenly turned to place a hand on the wall, as if bracing himself against a rush of pain. Rick sat back, ran his hand through his hair, the movement sent spasms of pain through him, reminding him that he had taken a beating.

Billy relaxed a bit and had caught Rick's grimace.

"You all right there, lad?" Billy asked, breathless.

Rick was amazed at how Billy could even care how he felt.

"I'm fine. I should be asking you that question."

"I'll admit that I've been better, but so goes the torture game. Clearly, there have been some new innovations in technologies since my last brush with imprisonment. Chemical warfare seems to be the latest fad now. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned beating the crap out of someone, aye? I hate it when I'm not kept in the loop about these things," Billy joked as he clenched through the pain. "The plan hasn't changed though. We tough it out until Michael and Casey can get to us."

Rick could only stare at Billy's suffering and wonder about "the plan".

"What if they can't get to us?"

"Now, where's your faith?" Billy teased, but then his expression changed into determination. "They will get to us."

Billy's tone was without any reservation and Rick admired that he had faith in men who had clearly never let them down, but Rick's faith was waning, he had to admit, and it bothered him that he could so easily abandon it at a moment's notice like he had. Billy's unwavering belief would have to buoy them both up.

TBC