Trampling the White Snake

I woke to a discourteous bucket of cold water being splashed into my face. I sputtered and took a recovering breath, only to inhale a mouthful of soggy burlap. The momentary sensation of suffocation jarred me for a moment, but I relaxed just as quickly. I must not appear the least bit fazed. These people were experts, they knew how to manipulate fear and extract what they wanted from even the most hardened and seasoned operative. I was neither of those, this being only my second mission, so I had to keep my cool and mental toughness. Too many lives were at risk if I didn’t.

The sack was yanked off my head and I was thrown off balance, certain that half of my scalp must have been torn away with it. I blinked several times to let my eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting and took in the view. My wrists, ankles, and chest were bound tightly to a small, metallic chair that only offered enough seating area for a toddler. The room was small and contained very little decorum. A few chains and crowbars lay strewn on the floor, I could only guess their purpose, and several large aluminum barrels sat nestled on the far side. From where I sat, I could only spy one point of escape, an oval-shaped door on the right side of the room, which had a glowing red light about it. To the right of the door handle appeared to be a device for swiping a key card, but that was all the time for looking around that I was given.

A meaty hand collided with the side of my face; the sting of the blow was made worse by the ice-cold of the water that still clung to my cheeks. A stocky man, dressed in a grey and black uniform stood in front of me. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing veined muscular forearms, the left of which had a fresh tattoo, a skull with a sword buried hallway into its head, with a red snake wrapped around the exposed portion of the blade and pommel. I am very familiar with this symbol. It is the marking of the Brotherhood of the Serpent, a coup that had recently overthrown the government of Kurgaria. Unfortunately, the tattoo was missing a key detail that I was hoping to see.

“Is that your traditional custom for greeting visitors,” I scoffed in response to the man’s slap, “Or I am getting special treatment?” My sarcasm received a glob of saliva in the face in reply. I can just never get the timing of my jokes right.

“Idiot American.” The uniformed man spoke for the first time in his thick Eastern European accent, “You are all the same, arrogant and stupid.”

“Hasn’t your government taught you to be tolerant of other cultures?” I asked, feigning offense, “Oh… no they couldn’t have. You destroyed your government.”

“Yes. Because it was weak and cowardly, just like you.” The man’s nose wrinkled, and his eyebrows came together in so close a knit that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair I was sitting in and leaned forward, his scarred and bearded face only inches from my own. “But I did not come here to banter.”

“So you came for a cup of coffee then? Excellent, I could use one myself.” The man growled at that and sneered, flashing his off-white teeth.

“Make your little jokes now, American. You will not be laughing soon.”

“So you’re telling me this isn’t a surprise birthday party?” I said with a smirk. This one was too much. The man rocked his head back and then slammed his forehead into my nose. A faint crack followed by the customary pain were the only reports I needed to know my nose was broken. It took me a few moments to recover from the blow, but I eventually raised my head and stared at my captor in defiance.

“What?” He asked in a mocking tone and a fake frown, “Not funny?” Just then, a loud beep came from the right side of the room by the door and the red light above the door turned green. This was followed by the distinctive clicks of three deadbolts being released, the sound of which echoed in the small room. Finally, the door swung inward on its hinges. In stepped two soldiers in the same grey-black uniform of the man who had headbutted me, followed by a third man. The way this man held himself indicated to me he was one of rank. A salute from the soldier before me confirmed the fact.

“General!” He said as he raised his hand to his brow.

“Commander.” The general replied in his native Kurgarian with a slight nod of his head. “Have you been making sure that the prisoner is settling in comfortably?” The general stepped in front of me and scanned me with his eyes. “I thought I told you not to begin until I arrived, Commander.” The general continued, not looking the man in the face, but revealing his annoyance through the tone of his voice. “Or did I not make myself clear?”

“You did, General. He is just such an arrogant bastard I couldn’t quite restrain myself.” The general shot a glance over his shoulder at the commander.

“Do better next time, Commander. There are plenty of others whom I can give that red snake to.” The commander’s face went still and hard as iron and did not respond. The general turned back to me. As he did so, I caught the glimpse of a tattoo under his shirt collar. It was the same design as that of the commander, with one difference. The snake was white, not red. This is what I was waiting for. I rubbed my tongue back and forth across the back of my top set of teeth five times.

“General Rivonav, I presume?” I addressed him. His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but then a smile crossed his face.

“I see my reputation proceeds me then!” He said not without a good deal of pleasure. “I am flattered that you Americans are taking such interest in me.”

“You have become quite the celebrity.”

“Is that so? Well, you’ll find your name is not unfamiliar to us either, Mr. Johnson. Or would you prefer I use your real name, Mr. Bentor?” I tried my best to hide my shock but I know I let some of it slip. “Oh, yes.” Rivonav continued, “You Americans are not the only ones who have informants deep within enemy territory. Which brings me to my first question, the embassy. We know you are partially responsibly for what happened, but not solely. Who is your contact in Kurgaria?” I took a deep breath. I needed to stall a little longer. Jacobs told me it would take two minutes after I had given the signal.

“If you really do know me, General, then you would know that I was born and raised in Georgia. My parents taught me proper manners, such as when to say ‘please’ when you wanted something. You, sir, are doing a miserable job at them so far.” I looked down at my bonds. “For starters, is this any way to treat a guest?” The skin around Rivonav’s cheeks tightened and his lips became a straight line.

“You were right, Grietrich.” He remarked glancing over at the commander, “He is an arrogant bastard.” He looked back at me. “Very well, Mr. Bentor, proper manners.” He clenched his fist and drove a hard punch into my stomach. I honestly think one of the crowbars would have hurt less. I wheezed and coughed, each exchange of air adding pain to my abdominals. “Thank you for that, Mr. Bentor. That was very enjoyable.”

“You are welcome, General,” I replied with a little difficulty. “See, we’ll make a Southern Gentleman out of you yet!”

“Still cracking jokes, are we?!” Rivonav wound up for another swing, but right before he drilled me a second time, the lights when out and the room was plunged in total darkness.

About time. I thought to myself. Time to get to work.