HaloCell

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HaloCell 2: I will never tell.

His name is Master Chief ………………..and he is a super soldier.

The spy woke up to pain all over his body, slowly opening his eyes, discerning only darkness at first. Out of the darkness he could make out a tall figure, he struggled to see who it was. Then he saw a spark, and his brain went into overload, all that had happened earlier suddenly returned to him, and awful thoughts of pain mixed with sudden fear crammed his head. He knew there was nothing he could do at this point, because far away he saw all his gear. He lowered his head to the floor, sighed and looked at the Spartan with a fixed stare. “What a situation Sam” he thought.
The Spartan knelt beside him, with his shotgun in one hand; he leaned over to touch the spy’s tied wrists.
“Too tight?” he asked. Fisher hesitated for a second, was that a joke?
“Don’t suppose you’ll untie me if I say it is?” he said after a while.
“No, but I do have to ask you a few questions” declared the Spartan.
Fisher wasn’t quite expecting this, did the Spartan knew he was coming? And if so; then How?
“Fisher! Are you there?……Fisher!” Lambert’s voice rang in his ear like a high-pitched bell. Yet, he was sort of glad to hear the so familiar voice, it was loud and it hurt his head, but he felt a little……safe now. He groaned to let Lambert know he was at least alive. On the other side, Lambert eased off a bit.
“ We lost communication with you for a good couple hours! By god you got us all worried Sam!” said Lambert, a bit of concern still in his voice. The man actually cared, what a surprise.
“ What are you doing here?” - asked the Spartan.
Fisher hoped Lambert could hear that, and he did.
“ I got it Fisher, don’t say anything you shouldn’t. You don’t want to be in my list of expendables!”
“ Do you actually believe I’m going to answer that?!” said Fisher in his usual sarcastic manner. Which was an answer directed to both men.

----Back in HQ Lambert and Grim were trying to work out something, in order to help Fisher. Yet, nothing was coming up. ----

Fisher’s defiant answer angered the Spartan, and that challenging look he was giving him made it worst. He grabbed him by the collar and pinched him against the wall. He then proceeded to apply a very useful technique for getting the right answers, by taking the spy’s hand and twisting the opposite way, which causes pain because your hand is not supposed to bend that way. Fisher felt the pain, but didn’t let up. The Spartan kept on asking, and twisting, he even place a leg between his legs and squashed him against the wall using his body. The bastard was damn heavy and strong, he thought his bones would crack with so much pressure. He tried to think of something else, but what?. Sarah. Yeah, his little Sarah. Well not so little she’s almost a woman now, but he couldn’t grasp that concept yet and she didn’t like it. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was been interrogated, like he did so many times before to countless others; then there was more pain. Sarah, he tried so hard to ignore the pain. He promised to do something together but he couldn’t remember what it was. Thoughts were becoming incoherent, going back and forth. Did she have a boyfriend? She was in college, but no she would tell him, right?
“Asshole” was all he could muster in his frustration. He leaned his head against the wall, this was impossible, he had to get this man to stop but he couldn’t think straight. And that goddamn cologne was getting annoying. Suddenly, the pressure was gone and he collapsed on the floor. The Spartan wasn’t a patient one.
“We are still here Sam” he heard Lambert’s voice in his ear, made him feel a little… better.
The Spartan started to take off his armor, he handled it so easily.
“What are you doing John?” asked a voice coming from the suit. Then a holographic purple woman showed up, hovering over the suit. She was small and bright.
“Shut up Cortana!” was the soldier’s irritated answer. He turned towards Fisher on the floor, and knelt next to him.
The Spartan’s face was still in the darkness, Cortana’s light illuminated Fisher’s face, but not the Spartan’s.
“You have really nice green eyes” said the Spartan, as he ran his fingers along Fisher’s hair. Astonished, the spy backed off away from the hand. The Spartan looked at him. All Sam could make out was brown ruffled hair, against the light. There was a dark green metal thing over his ear, more like embedded in his skull, a closer look told him it was his connection to the armored suit, and to Cortana. Who kept on questioning the Spartan’s actions, she seemed rather, jittery. Her little voice in the background was distracting.
Fisher’s attention was on the suit on the floor, he wondered how much weaker was the Spartan without his armor. He contemplated several escape scenarios, when he felt a finger near his lips, which brought him back to reality. The Spartan leaned closer, Fisher backed off, but this didn’t stop the man from lunging straight into a kiss. Suddenly, his senses were filled with the smell of Armani aftershave, and somehow it felt quite…good. He allowed the Spartan into his mouth, savoring his tongue and expertly exploring the man’s mouth with his. He was surprised at his own reaction, whatever, blame it on Armani.
“Why are you here? And who sent you?” asked the Spartan.
How naïve did he think he was?
Fisher laughed in his face, and hit him on the head with his own. Which hurt him more that to the Spartan, but at least it send him backwards, the man wasn’t expecting such a reaction and that was good. The soldier lunged at him again but his time he punched him in the stomach. Fisher arched forward in pain, what goddamn power, who was the idiot who thought of this. Weren’t the Graves enough? Spartans were a step above the Graves, both soldiers, except Graves weren’t physically enhanced but just well trained, like him. He could have taken on a Grave just fine.
He saw the Spartan take off his shirt, and it seemed like he was sweating. Something told him he had been itching to get out of that armor for long time; it was damaged, not of any good to him.
“What are you doing?” asked Cortana. Jittery definitely, something you shouldn’t see in and A.I.
“Just fix the armor Cortana, I’ll take care of this!” said the Spartan.
“Like hell! Fuck you!” yeah… maybe he shouldn’t have said that, the Spartan seemed short-tempered.
“Bold statement for a dead man” the Spartan chuckled.
The Spartan knelt over him, grabbed Fisher’s collar and harshly ripped the Kevlar’s top in half. The spy was horrified at this man’s cheer strength, as he also snatched his waistband and ripped the pants off of him, breaking the army issued belt in half. All he had on were his boots, and his torn vest hanged open at his elbows. The soldier gave him a smirk of a smile, and started to unbuckle his own pants. He could see where this was going and he didn’t like it at all. The Spartan ran a hand thru Fisher’s hair, and enjoyed sliding his fingers in the strands.
“Black hair, green eyes…” whispered the Spartan in his ear “if you would have been blonde, I would have killed you! I hate blondes.”
The spy said nothing, he’d rather not think at all. The Spartan softly caressed the man’s thigh, as he carefully lifted his leg. His other hand moved from the spy’s hair to his chin, and stayed there, stroking the side of the Sam’s rugged face with his thumb. He kissed him once again, leaning his entire body over Fishers’, who could instantly feel the warmth of the man’s sex close to his inner thigh. In the middle of this, the soldier slid his index and middle fingers in the spy’s mouth. He felt like biting him, but the man withdrew the fingers and licked them himself, only to later force them past his prisoner’s, reluctant entrance. Fisher bit his lower lip and suppressed a scream, not wanting to show weakness. The Spartan spread and twisted his fingers over and over again, looking straight in the face of the man below him. Fisher concealed possible screams of pain, with faint whimpers and even that felt utterly humiliating. He wondered if Lambert was listening, what a way to add to his degradation.
The Spartan replaced his fingers with own sex, and pushed abruptly into Fisher, breaking past the resistance met. The spy gasped in pain. He felt like was been ripped apart as the soldier went further in, past his spasmodic muscles. A strong arm wrapped itself around his waist, lifting him from the ground. He felt an awkward buzz in his ear, yet in his confusion he couldn’t tell what it was right away.
“Fisher are you there? We are doing everything we can, Sam” said Lambert.
What struck him odd was how calm Lambert’s voice sounded, like there was absolutely nothing wrong. What a joke, here he was at the verge of tears and hoarse screams, and Lambert sounded so clueless to the situation. Lambert asked him to cough, growl or something, just to know he was still alive. Alive? Is he serious? Fisher tried to, but the supposed growl came out like a faint and painful groan.
The pain was getting worst and he was failing miserably at protecting whatever dignity he had left. On top of that the Spartan enjoyed the poor sight of him struggling to keep his composure, at all cost. The soldier leaned in closer to him, looked him in eye and pressed a wet finger against trembling lips. The Armani cologne was now mixed in with sweat and something else, it smelled of iron. He noticed the tip of his fingers were wet, as he held him by the chin. The man inserted his thumb into Fisher’s mouth, now that odd iron taste was in his mouth, but all this wasn’t registering quite right.
“Fisher” Lambert again, he sounded sort of sad “We are sorry Fisher; we can’t find anyone who’d be willing to fight a Spartan. There just isn’t anyone that could stack up to this guy…forgive us, but you are on your own”
He was devastated by this, if he could he’d beg Lambert not to do this, not to leave him alone like this, he hated to admit it but he needed Lambert now more than ever. The Spartan thrusts were getting stronger and deeper. Finally, he let go of all pride and screamed in pain, tears ran down his face as he cried in agony. He quickly realized that his objective was now survival at any cost, and that meant giving in. He brought his arms forward and embraced the Spartan. His head fell backwards as he spread his legs wider and willingly tried to relax and take it all in. Seeing Fisher’s obvious surrender, the Spartan slowed down. The frenzied pitch became almost normal; he no longer pushed his way in as if trying to break a barrier, there was no longer any resistance, only the immaculate cries of the man below him. Fisher kept on hearing the voice of concern in his ear, but what did he care, such voice had just openly abandoned him. The Spartan kissed him and stroke his hair to placate his cries. Suddenly, he stopped and slowly withdrew. He then cradled Fisher’s head in his arms, still fondling his short black hair. The Spartan took the tiny microphone from Fisher’s ear and placed it on the floor next to them.
“You should have stayed a soldier Sam, we never abandon our own” he whispered at Fisher’s ear.
“Asshole!” yelled Lambert over the microphone.
“Look who’s talking!” answered the Spartan with a harsh laugh.
He then noticed the spy had stopped sobbing, and lay limp in his arms. He caressed the listless body in his arms for a while, pressing Fishers’ head against his chest. He smiled as Cortana reappeared from the armor.
“All done!” she declared “What did you do?”
The question went unanswered.
“You were right Cortana, I’m not going to do what I was told to do” he said
“What were you told to do?” She asked rather innocently. She didn’t hear when he was given his orders, because she wasn’t in the suit at the time.
He hesitated for a while.
“Torture him, get what you can and kill him” he answered.
“But he didn’t say anything!” Replied Cortana
“I know” he said as he placed the unconscious man carefully on the floor, and ran his fingers thru his hair one last time. Then he got dressed and left, leaving Sam where he was.

Hours later the spy woke up, to find himself alone in a dark cold room. Soft traces of moonlight came from the window he used to come in. He stared at the faint light, and realized he was alive, in pain but alive. That Armani scent was still in the air, it made him break into uncontrollable sobs. There was no way in hell he’ll ever let anyone find out about this, especially Sarah. The microphone was still on the floor, unusually close to him, as well as all of his equipment. Everything was within arm’s reach, yet he could swear it had been farther away before. The microphone on the floor buzzed.
“Lambert” he could barely speak, it had sounded more like a whisper. Surely, his chief didn’t hear him.
“Fisher! I’m here!” Lambert came thru.
“Yeah, you’re here now, where were you when I was getting raped, asshole?” he thought to himself. But he couldn’t say that, he still needed the man’s help.
“Do me a favor…and get over here” Fisher was trying his best to sound calm.
“I’ll send a team to extract you Fisher…”
“Don’t humiliate this way Lambert! Getting shot is one thing, getting ra…..” he stopped.
All was silent for a while. Then Lambert finally said something.
“I’ll be right there”
---
Lambert gave Sam his coat, and helped him to his feet. Both men were quiet, Fisher refused to acknowledge defeat, and Lambert knew Sam had taken his decision as betrayal. Out of the corner of his eye Lambert saw a spark and then a huge retreating shadow. The Spartan, he hadn’t imagined him so tall.
A familiar scent caught Fisher’s nose.
“Armani” he said. Lambert looked at him for a second, and then at the empty doorway again.

[[ PLEASE COMMENT....CHAPTER 9 IS A WIP. I'D LIKE TO FINISH IT BUT I'D LIKE TO KNOW SOMEONE WANTS TO READ IT]]