Of Questions.. and Answers

A table and a chair.

Inventions of dwellers that I must say I have found a use for.

A wagon.

Bare of all save easily scrubbed floors and .. that table and chair.

Black Masked men.

Anonymity goes a long way to set the scene.

A set of tools.

It really does not matter what tools you set out. Humans are innately creative.

Many times that is enough to get a man to talking. Things unseen and unspoken can sometimes scare a man more than clear cut understanding. His own imagination is enough. Things spill out of his mouth that no one really wanted to even know. Occasionally you get a man who likes to think he would never talk. Never speak the things in his head no matter what is threatened or done to him. Those men are the highlight to the day of any Torturer. Gives a sadist the validation he needs. He feels good about his craft .. his abilities. Goes home at night with that feeling he has accomplished something.

Because in the end ... they all talk.

You see .. a man can tell you he is not afraid of death. And that can be true. But it is not death that a Torturer uses to scare a man who is not afraid of death. Every man is afraid of something. A Torturer is all about finding that fear and using it like a tool. Death has nothing to do with torture. Torture is not about death. Torture is all about the idea of living with that fear .. whatever that fear may be.

Death is the easy part.

Torture is not even about pain. Pain is nothing more than a way to get someone's full attention. A back door to the mind. If you want to speak to someone's basic instincts .. their inner core without all the bosk shit in the way .. pain is the key. A primitive language that all creatures understand. And if you want answers .. it is always convenient if you both speak the same language.

So .. we start with a little pain just to get on the same page. Create an understanding. Start speaking the same language. And then .. we just settle right on in to getting to really know someone. From the inside out.

There are things that a Tuchuk man is afraid to lose. His eyes .. his hands .. his legs .. his teeth. These are parts of him .. tools he uses in his every day life that validate his ability to take his position as a provider and vital contributor to his people. It is easy for a Tuchuk man to lose his identity without the ability to be who he has seen himself as for so many years. Ability equals identity .. for him. You can retrain a man's thoughts ... but that takes time and necessity. It is a rare man indeed who believes that his worth is not conditional to what he does and how he does it.

That basis is an easy place to start. Uniform in predictability. It is the next few steps that get intricate and individualized. Where the Torturer becomes the artist .. not just a brainless echo of those that have come before.

I consider myself an artist in the area of torture. There is a reason my mask is looked upon with fear ... even among the Clan of Masks.

Serge is no different than any other man. He is no more afraid of death than any other Tuchuk. He wants the same things as every other Tuchuk man wants. I got my answers from Serge without ruining the rest of his life. I did not take away his identity as a Tuchuk man. I did not make him impotent in any functional way. If his dreams for a while are flavored with all the things he fears the most in life ... it is a side effect I weighed and found not worth too much afterthought. My end justified my means.

Serge and the Mask ... came to an understanding.