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hardygalwrites · 3 years

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Third Time’s the Harm - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part of the “Team SA37″ series

Agent Jam’s third ever mission as a Double Eye agent takes a turn when he’s captured by the target. (originally posted under the URL @shsl-whump on May of 2018)

Artwork commissioned from @theeternalcynic / @go-whump-in-the-night on December 26th, 2021. Massive thank you to them for taking my request during the holidays :3

WARNING: captivity, torture via electrocution, attempted manipulation, less than optimal sense of self-worth

–

Jam hated this room. It was so clean and fancy and shiny. The wallpaper was gold and white, the king-sized bed was adorned with silk sheets, the minibar was stocked with some of the finest liquor, and the tables were made out of hell damned mahogany. Even the chair he was tied to was solid and intricately hand carved.

Then there was him, tired, hungry, thirsty, sweaty, and filthy. He wasn’t even dressed to at least look elegantly bedraggled - he still wore the same jeans and tee he’d put on… what, two days ago? Three days ago? He couldn’t remember. Time tended to blur when he was in pain.

“Good morning, Agent Jam.”

Speaking of pain…

Cyrus appeared in front of him, all washed and groomed and refreshed and smiling and damn Jam just wanted to punch him! Then Cyrus leaned down to eye level and Jam just wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Anything to escape this madman.

“How are you feeling?”

Jam didn’t even give him a look.

“You know very well now that your discomfort is only temporary, agent,” Cyrus said, as though he had read Jam’s un-emoted thought. “You only need to submit yourself to my flock.

“But…” He stood up straight, giving Jam’s hair a ruffle. “…that’s a conversation for after breakfast.”

His two most devoted followers then entered the room, each carrying a covered tray.

They set the trays on the table in front of Jam, and Cyrus sat down at the other end of the table. His followers removed the tray covers, revealing a perfectly fancy breakfast.

Jam hated everything.

It took forever for Cyrus to finish his damn breakfast. As usual, he seemed to have this obnoxious need to savour every bite of food, every sip of drink. He hummed in satisfaction, shaking his head every so often, as though constantly stunned by the deliciousness of what he was eating. It took every remaining scrap of dignity Jam still had to keep from staring.

He was hungry.

Unheavenly hungry.

And thirsty too.

But he was determined not to start behaving like a begging dog. Not yet, anyway.

Cyrus finally finished eating the expensive looking breakfast. Jam couldn’t help but notice that there was plenty still leftover. As his followers removed the breakfast trays, Cyrus turned his attention, as he always did, to the agent tied to the chair in front of him. Jam avoided his gaze, some deep seated instinct telling him that if he just didn’t make eye contact…

“So, here we are again, agent.” Cyrus sighed. “Another day, another chance for reform.”

Jam laughed. It was short and harsh and not at all genuine, but he just couldn’t help it. ‘Reform.’ It sounded so nice and gentle, the same way this room looked so comfortable and inviting.

“Laugh now, Agent Jam,” Cyrus warned, sounding uncannily like an admonishing caretaker. “Remember, you attempted to enter my flock through deceptive means. It is only fair I make you see the truth, so you may then join me without deception.”

Something was draped over his eyes, and Jam gasped, sudden fear kickstarting his fight-or-flight response.

“Wait…!”

Despite Jam’s frantic cry, the silk blindfold - even the damn torture methods had to be luxurious! - was tied tightly around his eyes. As Jam attempted to shake it off, a pair of hands grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it back, away from the table.

It really was true that all other senses appeared to be heightened when one was deprived of sight. Jam was acutely aware of his own heartbeat and his own rapid breaths. He was acutely aware of where the ropes chafed his skin and where his body still ached from the last… whatever the hell this was. He could hear Cyrus moving towards him, practically smell the lingering scent of his breakfast. He could hear the click-clack of something metal and plastic being handled, sense it being passed to Cyrus’s waiting presence.

Had Jam’s body always been this tense?

“Wait,” he gasped, pushing himself back against the chair. “Don’t.”

“You are blind to the truth.” Cyrus’s voice came less than two feet away from Jam’s face. “It is a long road, but I can help you.”

“No…” Jam shook his head, voice breaking a little.

“You first must acknowledge me as teacher,” Cyrus continued, his voice this time coming from behind Jam. “That is all I ask.”

“Ple–“

Had he been about to beg? Jam wasn’t sure - his mind was largely on auto-pilot. Regardless, he never got to finish what he wanted to say. Instead, the word was replaced with a piercing cry as a harsh pain erupted in his side. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, and Jam hung against his bonds, gasping.

“You’re in pain.” Cyrus was beside him now. “That can easily be remedied. Just acknowledge me as your teacher.”

“No–” He didn’t have enough breath to scream this time.

The cattle prod - Jam was about 98% sure it was a cattle prod after having come into contact with it so many times now - dug into Jam’s chest, eliciting a strangled whine.

And so it went, on and on, over and over again - Cyrus would make his demands, just as calm and benign as ever, and Jam would receive a jolt of electricity as punishment for not giving the right answer. Jam could barely get a word out at this point, not without the damn prod digging into his back or his leg or his shoulder or his neck or his stomach, and couldn’t even see where it was coming from, couldn’t even see where his tormentor was…! He could only hear his own screams, the pop of electricity, and Cyrus’s stupidly calm voice demanding the same thing over and over and over and over–

The latest bout of pain left his body, and Jam screamed. “Stop! Stoppit! Just stop!”

“Hm? Are you ready to recognise your teacher, agent?”

“Just–“

The prod met the nape of his neck, and Jam…

…

…The next thing he knew, Jam felt a hand patting his cheek.

“Come on, agent. Fainting like that…” The owner of the hand tutted. “Even I have to say that’s a little pathetic.”

Fainting? Had he actually fainted? If so, then… Yeah, that was a little pathetic. It definitely wasn’t the prod that had knocked him out, so his composure must have suffered a crippling blow. What kind of Double Eye agent was he if he had actually fainted from stress?

“That’s it.” The owner of the hand sounded like he was smiling.

Jam shifted slightly, only to feel every abused muscle contract in protest. “Ah…” He groaned, falling limp. “It…”

“What, agent?”

“It hurts…” His words were barely more than a whisper, spoken out of confused delirium, but…

Had he just admitted defeat?

It certainly felt like it.

“I know it hurts, agent.” The owner of the hands - Cyrus, right? - tucked some of Jam’s hair behind the blindfold. “But you can stop anytime you want. You simply need to acknowledge me as teacher.”

Was that really it, though?”

“It is the first step of many,” Cyrus said, as though having read Jam’s mind. “But it is all I require to remove this pain from you, to help you see once again.”

Everything Jam knew about brainwashing tactics told him no. He was practically an expert on this sort of thing for crying out loud! He knew well enough that if Cyrus could make him do something so simple, Cyrus could go on to make him do something much more devastating. What was the saying? ‘Give a man an inch’ or something like that?

But… it was just a simple title, right? It wasn’t like Jam would actually listen to the guy or anything. It was just a title, and Jam did so desperately want this to stop…

“What do you even have, anymore, agent?” Cyrus continued, cutting through Jam’s thoughts. “You would have nothing to lose, everything to gain, from joining me.”

“My… my team…” Jam whispered.

Ah, yes! His team! He had worked so hard to become worthy of joining a proper Double Eye investigation team. He had only just started his career! That would be a lot to lose.

“Team?” Cyrus scoffed, sounding distinctly annoyed for the first time. “What team? I see no team here, saving you from this pain, agent.”

That… was true, but Double Eye had always emphasised never leaving a man behind! And from what Jam knew second-hand about his team leader, Agent SA37 was basically the aficionado of that principle. So, there had to be a good reason for why the team wasn’t busting down the door right now. After all, they had been hired to investigate and implicate Cyrus, not to break into his hotel rooms.

“Your team,” Cyrus sneered, “only cared about your skill in the art of deception. That is why you were sent to me, to use your skill in order to enter my flock dishonestly. But I saw through your lies, and now you’re here, accepting your due punishment. After failing to use that skill your team prized so much, do you really think they would consider you worth retrieving?”

Jam stiffened, as though the prod had hit him again. “No! I mean- I mean, yes! I… I think…”

His voice trailed off. It was clear that the team had not been fond of receiving a new member. Agent SA37 was short with him, Agent 707 always acted as though he was in the way, and even Agent Tigress, despite her attempts at welcoming him, treated him like he was some summer intern who would be out of their hair soon enough. But… but things had been getting better, right? They seemed to be warming up to him, at least treating him as an actual asset rather than an unwanted part. After all, this was only Jam’s third mission, and they had actually assigned him the ever important undercover work! Clearly they now trusted his skill set!

And he had betrayed that trust.

The realization almost had Jam breaking down. Instead, he clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails cutting into his palm. He still had some dignity left, and he wasn’t about to shed tears in front of a crazy cult leader who could somehow afford luxury level goods and services.

“Well, agent?” Said cult leader spoke, once again sounding calm and benign. “Again, you need only accept me as teacher.”

Yes. It was so simple. Just something to make this all stop, if only for a bit. He was so tired…

“Agent Jam?”

The one spoken to swallowed. Giving in was such a nice thought, but… he had entertained the idea long enough. Double Eye agents never gave in, right? At least not to something as mundane as repeated blows from a cattle prod. And even if his team didn’t really seem to like him, they had to find him sometime, right? Double Eye agents never left a man behind, regardless of their personal feelings.

Besides, Agent SA37 himself had said he owed Jam for saving his life. And if Agent SA37 was known to be anything, he was known to be a man of his word.

Jam lifted his head, turning in the general direction of Cyrus’s voice. “Agent Jam…” He paused and steadied his voice. “Agent Jam, Team SA37. My team will come for you–”

WHACK.

His cheek stung. He tasted copper. The blow had easily split open his dry lips. Had Cyrus actually backhanded him? That was new. Jam felt the hand on his face again, and he instinctively cringed. But it only cupped his chin in a caring gesture and tilted his face upward ever so gently.

“You insist on staying blind to the truth, agent.” Cyrus sounded pitying. “I consider it my duty to help you see it.”

Any reply Jam might have given was lost in a scream as the prod met his stomach. Outside, one of Cyrus’s followers stood guard, hearing absolutely nothing of what was going on inside the room. Luxury hotels came with premium insulation, after all.

#posting from THE ARCHIVES #whump #original writing #original fiction #original character #espionage #captivity #spies #Team SA37 #HardyGal OC Agent Jam #theeternalcynic #character art #commissioned art #HardyGal writes stuff #HardyGal writes original content

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