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It lashed into his back. Around his sides. The back of his neck. He grunted and clenched his teeth to keep the moans inside.
“Where is the Winter Soldier?”
Searing pain, left shoulder blade.
“Ask someone who knows.” He forced the words out.
“Very well; I don’t mind repeating myself.” The crack of a whip, digging into his lower back. “Where is the Winter Soldier?”
He dug his fingernails into the table and grit his teeth. "Is this the best you got?"
"Oh, I've got more. Plenty more. Are you ready to play?"
"Not to be a poet or anything…but I could do this all day."
He could hear the sadistic smile in his captor's voice. "Me, too."
Once more, the whip lashed across his back. His body convulsed involuntarily, and this time he couldn't hold back the groan.
The man chuckled. "Yes, that's what I like to hear; music to my ears. Now. There's no need for you to act coy, mister Captain America. We know the Winter Soldier is your best friend, and we know that you know where he is. So let's save the chit-chat—and my energy—and why don't you just give me the information that I want?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were having fun." Steve seeped as much sarcasm into the words as he could. "I'd hate for this to be a boring party for you."
The man chuckled. "Ahh, there's the classic Captain America humor I keep hearing about." He snapped the whip in the air, and Steve flinched, waiting for it to strike his back. His captor laughed. "Got you."
Steve forced in measured breaths. One…two…one…two… someone unshackled his arms and jerked them behind his back, tying his wrists tied together with coarse rope that bit into his skin. Rough hands lifted his shoulders and legs and flipped him, dropping him down onto his back. The table pushed splinters into his torn skin, and he clenched his jaw until it popped to keep from crying out.
Before he could take an even breath and get used to the new pain, a cloth was draped over his face. Water soaked it, his hair, his bare chest—he held his breath as long as he could, but soon his lungs felt as if they would burst. He tried to suck in a breath, but the wet rag on his face only seeped moisture through, and his body spasmed as he choked. The cloth came off for a blissful two seconds, but he'd barely taken half a breath before it slapped his face again and another deluge of water soaked his face. Panic rose, and blackness hovered at the edge of his vision.
"Where is the Winter Soldier?"
The cloth came up, and he heaved a gulp of air. "I don't know what—"
Water. He was beginning to really hate water.
"Where is the Winter Soldier?"
Water. Interrogate. Try to breathe. Repeat. Steve didn't know how long they went like this, but for all he knew it was a lifetime. Finally, the torture stopped, and he turned his face to the side, gagging. It seemed like an eternity before he was pulling air into his lungs instead of expelling water.
"Oh, that's disgusting." The villain's face twisted in disdain. "But still quite beautiful." He turned and picked up a syringe that laid on a nearby stainless steel table. "Okay, time for one last hurrah." He tilted the need upright and pushed the air bubbles out. 'I know you've heard of a super soldier serum; how about a slow-and-painful-death serum?" He waved a hand at a second syringe that lay next to the first one's empty spot. "It's all very simple. That one's the antidote. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll jab you with that one." He slowly slid his syringe under the skin of Steve's bicep. "But if you don't, well…the world will be none the wiser when their hero is gone in twenty-four hours."
Steve smirked. "I wouldn't count on that."