You know you're not about to have tea and cakes

When a guard brings a car battery into your cell, and the smiling shit inquisitor (with gravestone teeth) follows him in.

"Well, I see we have more questions to ask, and you have more answers to give."

Shit. Shit. Fuck and shit.

"My name is Herpic, and I am an ordained priest," he says like too many times before, "so I can comfort you spiritually, as I interrogate the sarx, and your soma is tested."

He waits for the guard to put the battery down and then he says, "Corporal, prepare our guest."

Which means getting strapped to the bed-frame and connected again.

This has been going on for some days now (it's difficult to tell how long, the light never goes off, and they do that sleep deprivation thing). So I'm weak and thin, and not now resisting.

So it comes as some surprise when I get up quick and stick my stiffened fingers in his eyes. And as he goes back, I scramble over and with clumsy panic luck elbow the corporal in the throat and I'm out in the corridor, and running.

They are slack and few here, the guard sitting reading Kafka at the end spends a moment being surprised before I'm on him and bite his fucking ear off and dig one hand in his face, and I take his gun and hit him with it too many times.

It's not long before he's not making noises anymore, so I go back and shoot the blinded inquisitor and the gurgling corporal (who's not doing well at breathing with a crushed larynx).

It is quiet for a while. After I've had some time, I find the way out into silent dark nowhere. Out on a deadend street, at night.