Time: 1200. Location: Deep in the Florida Everglades.
"AWWWWWGGHHHH!!!"
The scream echos out over the barren swamp. There is no worry about any of THEM finding their way out here. Even if they got through the gators, snakes, and the black water, the dark concrete-like mud would trap THEM in place. No, there is no fear of THEM out here. This is their domain for now.
"I sWEaR I DoN't know WheRE HE is!"
"I believe you. Truly I do. Sister…"
The crack of a whip lays its twisted tongue in what looks like a block of ground meat. Only upon closer inspection, if one could stomach a closer look, you'd see the exposed vertebrae not of a head of cattle but of a man. Hanging from his arms, wrists raw from the rope, bloodied, bruised, beaten, half-eaten by insects, insects that never seem to bother his two torturers, hangs what is left of a once-proud man. A man who was once a real American hero. A member of a top-secret special ops group. A group whose members are invited from all the branches of service. Here in the middle of a sweltering swamp deep in the Everglades hangs a member of G.I. Joe.
His torturers are brother and sister. A couple of corrupt degenerates whose cruelty is only surpassed by their enjoyment of inflicting pain. For four days, they have been systematically torturing their captive, questioning him on the whereabouts of their eldest brother. But he has no answers. At first, he stood his ground. Showing why he was one of the best. The attempted drowning, the pulling of fingernails, the breaking of fingers, ankles, knees. No, he was trained to be better than these two. He told them nothing. He doesn't remember what it was that opened the flood gates of information. Perhaps it was the pliers twisting and crushing his…
Whatever it was, he spilled everything. He held back nothing. But none of it was good enough. He didn't have the information they wanted. That's when the truly cruel things began. When they seemed to realize he didn't know. When they decided to start having fun. For the last 2 days, he has prayed for death. Any death. But each day the sun rose and the "games" began anew.
As he passes in and out of consciousness, sights and sounds pass before his eyes. An order was issued. A plane with fellow Joes. An in-flight briefing none of them could believe. More orders were issued. A plan of attack. Something about the President and a visit to Tallahassee. A rescue. Turbulence. Red lights flashing. The sounds of metal tearing. They'd been hit. Flak filling the air. They jump. He watched as his fellow Airborne troops opened canopies. Six took flak. Dead. Weems. The chute didn't open. Dead. Talltree. What happened to Talltree? Then pain…
"AWWWAAGHHHH!!!"
"I think he likes it, dear Sister. Perhaps he'd like more."
"I do think you are correct, Brother."
Blackness. It finally overtakes him. Blackness. The end. His prayers have been answered.