Chapter 1853 - 1394: Milosh's Hard-Nosed Resistance (Part 3)

The mask is connected to two tubes.

One for incoming water, one for exhaust.

"This is controlled water asphyxiation," Lemont explained, as if discussing a scientific experiment: "We'll precisely control the water amount and temperature. First phase, room-temperature water."

Cold liquid instantly surged into the mask. Milosh instinctively held his breath, but water flooded through every gap in his nose and mouth. At thirty seconds, his lungs began to burn. At forty-five seconds, his body convulsed severely, the restraints digging deep into his flesh.

The interrogator stopped the water at fifty-eight seconds and opened the exhaust valve.

Milosh coughed violently, water spraying from the edges of the mask.

"Song Heping's location?" Lemont asked.

"Don't... know... cough cough cough—"

Milosh's voice was torn apart by water and coughing.

Second water injection.

This time, the water temperature was lower, close to freezing.

The cold water irritated his throat and trachea, triggering violent spasmodic coughing, but coughing underwater only inhaled more water.

Milosh's eyes widened, bloodshot and severe.

This session lasted sixty-five seconds.

Upon stopping, his nose and mouth were bleeding.

The mucous membranes ruptured under intense pressure.

"Coordinates, possible hideouts." Lemont's voice was flat and steady.

Milosh spat blood water, saying something hoarsely in Serbian.

"What did he say?" the interrogator asked.

As an experienced agent, Lemont caught a bit: "He said...'Belgrade's sky still remembers your bombs.'"

The interrogator stepped forward, tearing open Milosh's shirt, attaching twelve electrodes to his chest and abdomen.

The electrodes were connected to a palm-sized black device.

"This is the military-modified version of a transcutaneous nerve stimulator," Lemont said, "It won't cause tissue damage but will create intense pain by stimulating nerve endings. We'll begin at low intensity."

The first electric shock felt like hundreds of needles simultaneously piercing his skin.

Milosh's body arched violently, muscles spasming.

The ECG showed his heart rate soaring to 140 beats per minute.

Intensity gradually increased. By the seventh time, the pain had surpassed anything Milosh had ever experienced.

It wasn't confined to one place; it was on every inch of skin throughout his body, burning, tearing, repeatedly bludgeoned.

His consciousness began to blur, but the interrogator adjusted the parameters to maintain the pain just below the threshold of fainting.

"Stop." Lemont said.

The interrogator shut off the device.

Milosh was drenched in sweat, as if scooped from water. He gasped heavily, pupils dilated.

"Where is Song Heping?"

"Don't... know..."

With every word, blood foam spilled from Milosh's mouth.

The interrogator released Milosh's left hand from its restraint, securing it on a metal table beside him.

They used a precise hydraulic clamp, the jaws covered in rubber, capable of applying immense pressure without immediately fracturing bones.

The clamp gripped Milosh's left little finger.

"Human fingers have fourteen phalanges," Lemont stated calmly, "Each can be pressured individually. We'll start with the distal phalanx."

Pressure gradually increased.

Milosh clenched his teeth, jaw grinding audibly.

He could clearly feel the bone bending and deforming under pressure.

"Crack."

A slight but distinct sound of bone cracking.

The first segment of the little finger's bone fractured.

Milosh emitted a suppressed growl, but quickly swallowed it back down.

His right hand gripped the interrogation chair's armrest, nails digging into the plastic surface.

"Coordinates?"

No response.

Only heavy breathing.

Second finger. This time, the proximal phalanx of the ring finger.

The pressure lasted thirty seconds, until the bone completely shattered.

This time Milosh couldn't suppress a scream, but after screaming, he slammed his head backward against the chair, forcing himself to stay conscious.

"Record: The subject still held under extreme pain," Lemont wrote.

Then he looked at the two interrogators, signaling them to intensify.

The interrogator injected Milosh with the mentioned nerve sensitivity enhancer.

Once the drug entered his veins, Milosh's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

All senses were magnified to the extreme.

He could hear the sound of his blood flowing, feel every fiber of his clothes brushing against his skin, taste every molecule of blood flavor in his mouth.

And the pain became a living thing.

It traversed his bones, danced in his nerve endings, screamed in the depths of his brain.

"Now start again," Lemont instructed.

They returned to the water torture.

But this time, under the influence of the drug, every drop of water felt like lava.

Milosh's struggle turned into epileptic convulsions.

After stopping the water, he slumped in the chair, eyes unfocused, liquid, mixed with blood and saliva, dribbling from his mouth.

This time, the interrogator activated the intense light array on the ceiling.

Six 2000-lumen LED lamps switched on simultaneously, beams directly hitting Milosh's face.

Meanwhile, hidden speakers in the walls began blasting high-frequency noise.

It was an ear-piercing screech on the edge of human hearing range, mixed with manipulated baby cries, metal scraping sounds, and indistinct voice fragments.

"Reverse application of sensory deprivation." Lemont spoke to the recorder: "When the subject tries to shut down senses to resist pain, we flood his nervous system with excess information, sabotaging his psychological defenses."

Light, sound, pain, the chemical effects of drugs.

All stimuli acted simultaneously, amplified concurrently.

Milosh's brain started to experience cognitive disorientation.

He saw light breaking into color shards before his eyes, heard sounds swinging far and near, his sense of time completely distorted.