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Maria Turov, a well-muscled brunette, sweated slightly as she sat in a chair in one of the prison's subterranean interrogation rooms. Though she was still dressed in her uniform, her sidearm had been taken away and her hands were cuffed behind her back.
As a low-ranking security officer on the civilian side of the prison, she had been tasked with monitoring various video feeds of holding cells throughout the civilian section of the facility. Not more than an hour ago, she had seen a horrific sight on one of the feeds: A naked woman was shoved into a room full of male civilian prisoners, who immediately converged on her with less-than-noble intentions. Maria had immediately sprung from her seat and rushed towards the room in order to retrieve the woman.
On the way, she had been intercepted by Boris Tikotsky, one of the more prominent military officers stationed in the prison. She knew him by his reputation: He was the lead interrogator in the prison's military wing, tasked with getting information out of suspected terrorists and the like.
She never thought she would be sitting in one of his interrogation rooms.
"Do you know why you're here?" Boris asked pointedly. Maria shook her head and muttered "no."
"You've been a witness to a classified military operation," Boris said. "Lacking the proper security clearance, the only solution right now is to detain you indefinitely... after all, we can't have our secrets getting out."
"Secrets?" Maria said. "Is this about the woman in the holding cell? Are you responsible for that? You don’t want me spreading word that you’re using gang rape as an interrogation method?”
“The woman you saw was a hardened terrorist. She was refusing to give up information that could prevent attacks on innocent people, and we needed to make her talk,” Boris said.
Maria mumbled a curse under her breath. “And you’re afraid that if I’m allowed to go free, I’ll tell someone about what I witnessed and cause some sort of scandal about what goes on in our military prisons.”
“Something like that.” Boris grinned ever so slightly. “So, Maria Turov, you are formally under arrest by the Russian Armed Forces for compromising an intelligence operation, and are ordered to be detained indefinitely.”
As he talked, the guards waiting behind her hoisted Maria to her feet and dragged her to the door of the room for processing. She complied in silence.
---
Working through the pain, Irina tried the best she could to use toilet paper to dab up the blood and semen caked between her legs. It was all she could do to maintain something resembling a shred of dignity. Every movement caused pain to shoot through her chest, no doubt on account of broken ribs she had incurred during her assault. Her left eye was swollen nearly shut from being slammed repeatedly into a concrete wall.
What was she to do? Surely they would continue to find horrible new ways to torture her until she broke down and gave them some piece of legitimate information. Could she take much more? Could she wait just another day or two, until her comrades – who must have known by now that she was compromised – abandoned their current hiding spot and set up shop elsewhere?
Her thoughts were cut short by the door opening. Irina closed her legs and pulled them as close as she could to her chest in order to hide her nudity from the man standing in the doorway: the same interrogator responsible for her previous torments.
“Time to take you back to the holding cell,” he said. “I’m sure the prisoners will be more than happy to take another pass at you. That is, of course, unless you talk.” Irina scooted into a corner as the guards accompanying him entered the room, ready to drag her away.
Dragged through the corridors, still in shooting pain, Irina’s mind raced. She couldn’t stand another session in there. With her already broken bones and sore body, there was no way she could tolerate it. But before she knew it, she was facing the nondescript door to the holding cell again.
Before they could open the door, her nerves got the better of her. She began heaving and vomited on the floor again.
“You can’t…” Irina muttered, looking at the floor in shame of what she was about to say. “I’ll talk.”
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