Building a Business Empire with my Technological System

Chapter 262: Torture

David Natividad stood over the bound and groggy Harris, who was still blinking away the effects of the cold water splash. The dim, stark room offered no comfort, only the harsh reality of the situation. David's men stood silently in the corners, their presence a silent reminder of the control they wielded.

"Good to see you awake, Harris," David said, his tone cold and devoid of any friendliness. "Now, let's revisit what we discussed last time."

Harris, still groggy but defiant, spat at David's feet. "I told you, you won't get anything from me."

David's expression hardened. "We'll see about that." He nodded to one of his men, who moved to a table against the wall and retrieved a large, plastic sheet and a jug of water.

Harris's eyes widened slightly, recognizing the setup. Waterboarding. Despite his training, the thought of enduring the technique was enough to unsettle anyone. Still, he steeled himself, knowing he had to resist.

David leaned in close, his voice a menacing whisper. "You're a trained agent, I get it. But everyone breaks eventually. Let's see how long you last."

The men set up the plastic sheet beneath Harris's chair and positioned him flat on his back, strapping his arms and legs securely. One of David's men placed a cloth over Harris's face while another held the jug of water ready.

"Last chance, Harris," David said. "Tell me why you're here, and we can avoid this unpleasantness."

Harris remained silent, his jaw clenched in defiance. David sighed and nodded to his men.

The first splash of water hit the cloth, and Harris's body reacted instinctively, thrashing against the restraints as the sensation of drowning overwhelmed him. The waterboarding continued in measured intervals, each pause giving Harris a brief moment to gasp for air.

David watched impassively, waiting for signs of breaking. Harris, despite his training, struggled to maintain composure. The panic induced by the waterboarding was intense, but he clung to his training, forcing his mind to focus on anything but the agony.

Minutes felt like hours as the process continued. David finally raised a hand, signaling a stop. Harris was left gasping for breath, his face pale.

"Ready to talk yet?" David asked, leaning over Harris.

Harris, barely able to speak, managed a hoarse whisper. "Go to hell."

David's eyes narrowed. "Very well. We have all night." He signaled to his men to prepare for another round. "Remember, Harris, you can end this at any time. Just tell me what I need to know."

He signaled to his men, and the waterboarding resumed. The cloth was soaked again, and water began pouring over Harris's face, eliciting a fresh round of thrashing and gasping from the restrained agent. The relentless waves of water made Harris's lungs burn with a desperate need for air.

David watched with cold detachment, waiting for any sign of capitulation. Each time the water was poured, Harris's resistance grew more strained, his body's instinctual fight for survival battling against his training.

After several more agonizing minutes, David raised his hand to stop the torture. Harris was left panting, his face red and eyes wild with fear and defiance. David leaned in close, his voice steady and low.

"Why are you investigating my boss?" he asked again, his tone laced with menace.

Harris coughed, his breath ragged, but his resolve remained. "You... won't... get... anything," he managed to choke out between breaths.

David's patience was thinning. He had underestimated Harris's resilience, but he was far from giving up. "You're a tough one, I'll give you that," David said, straightening up. "But everyone has their breaking point."

He turned to his men. "Prepare the room for the next phase. And bring me his partner. Let's see if he can handle watching her go through the same treatment."

David's men moved efficiently, setting up the room for the next round of interrogation. Within minutes, Stacy Mitchell was brought in, her hands bound behind her back. She was conscious but disoriented, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Harris strapped to the table.

"Stacy, no," Harris rasped, struggling against his restraints. "Leave her out of this."

David approached Mitchell, who stared at him angrily.

"You see, Harris," David said, "sometimes the best way to break someone isn't through physical pain but through the suffering of those they care about."

Harris scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Comrades don't exist in the CIA. We're trained to operate independently. Do you think you can break me by hurting her? You don't understand how this works."

David's expression darkened. He glanced at Mitchell, who was glaring defiantly at him despite her predicament. "Is that so? Let's test that theory."

David nodded to his men, who positioned Mitchell in a chair facing Harris. They strapped her down, making sure she was secure. David leaned in close to Harris, his voice a cold whisper. "Let's see if you can watch her suffer and still hold your ground."

He signaled his men to begin. The cloth was placed over Mitchell's face, and the jug of water was raised. As the first splash of water hit the cloth, Mitchell's body convulsed, her desperate attempts to breathe thwarted by the relentless flow.

David watched Harris intently, searching for any sign of breaking. After a few excruciating minutes, he raised his hand to stop the torture. Mitchell was left gasping for air, her face pale and contorted with pain.

David turned back to Harris, his voice low and deadly. "Ready to talk now?"

Harris, his breathing heavy and his face etched with anguish managed to glare back at David. "You're wasting your time."

"Look, if you don't talk, both of you, then we have no use holding you anymore. We might as well kill you."

"Then do that, stop fooling around!" Harris spat defiantly, his voice hoarse but resolute.

David chuckled, shaking his head in mock amusement. "You know, Harris, it's almost funny. A man like you, so dedicated to his cause, willing to die for it. But for what? A country that probably won't even acknowledge your existence if you disappear?"

Harris's eyes blazed with anger, but he said nothing. David continued, leaning in closer. "You see, you're just a pawn in their game. They sent you here, knowing full well the risks, and they'll forget about you just as quickly. But here you are, ready to die for them. It's almost pathetic."

Mitchell, despite her condition, managed to glare at David, her eyes filled with contempt. "You don't understand loyalty, do you?"

David laughed outright at this. "Loyalty? To what? An organization that uses and discards people like you without a second thought?"

Once she was gone, David turned back to Harris. "Last chance, Harris. You've seen what we can do. Tell me what I need to know, or your death will be slow and painful."

Harris, exhausted but unwavering, glared up at David. "You'll get nothing from me."

"You leave me no choice."