He couldn't breathe. There wasn't anything he could do. They had him too far under, holding him down. His chest hurt, his insides screaming loudly while the lack of oxygen sent his mind reeling. Things were starting to turn black but just when he was about to be swallowed by the darkness, he was pulled out.

They laughed while he coughed and spluttered, his gasps coming out hard and painful. A slap to the face barely snapped him out of it, so they decided to shake him roughly. "You going to talk now?" growled one of them while the others leered at him.

His eyes almost rolled in the back of his head, his consciousness something impossible to hold onto given his condition. He was met with another, harder slap, sending him back to the horror of what was happening. "What is the Warden's next move?"

He rolled his head to look at the man interrogating him and spat in his face.

"Mother fucker!" The man punched him in the gut, making him cough out blood. That hadn't been the only time they had hit him.

"Drop him back in. He's not ready to talk yet," growled another one, a sneer on his face.

The victim's eyes widened, ready to cry out before he was shoved back into the water, left to drown until they were satisfied.

...

"Sir, shouldn't we get him out of there now?" spoke a small man, scarred and wearing an eye patch. A dark clothed, taller man sat in his chair, eyes narrowed.

"No. He wanted to know why I act like I do now. It was about time he learned."

"If you are certain," his subordinate said, uncertainty in his tone, but he didn't question his leader.

The man in the dark uniform watched the screen carefully. "I'll give the order when the time is right."

...

He wheezed again once he was pulled out, his back meeting the wall when they threw him. They snickered, one kicking him in the ribs. "Fucking pathetic. This is the guy who's been terrorizing the people? So scary. He's just a Peewie Herman wannabe!"

He coughed, blood choking him. He cracked an eye open, his glasses long sense gone, purple suit nearly in tatters. They've had him for days now, maybe weeks - he couldn't remember. They kept demanding information out of him. Information he didn't have. He almost wanted to make something up, or repeat something his future self had been talking about to future Jared. This was all his future self's fault anyway. He didn't deserve this.

"You going to talk now? Or do you want to be put in the ice water?"

He shivered, teeth chattering. They wouldn't let him die. He didn't know how he was still alive. Despite his thoughts of betrayal, he mustered the strength to say two words. "Fuck...you."

A kick to the head sent him into blackness.

...

Jared was getting antsy now, watching the screen with his boss, then at the Warden. He didn't like this. If anything were to happen to the past warden, the present now would be corrupted. If Warden died, so would his future self. Wasn't his boss worried about that? Just what was he planning?

"It's only a matter of time, Jared."

"Yes, sir..."

...

He was tossed into his cell, his body falling like a rag doll. He didn't even bother trying to move. One of the soldiers pressed a boot against his head, sneering down at him. "Look at you. Some dictator. You aren't so tough all alone, are you? You don't got anyone, eh? You're nothing without your posse. Fucking useless."

Something snapped in his head, then. His eyes turned dark, empty, his fingers balling into fists. Adrenaline finally rushing through his tired veins, he turned is head enough to bite the man's ankle. The soldier yowled and pulled his leg , cursing obscenities when he noticed he was bleeding.

Warden was on his feet, the look on his face enough to shut the man up in mid curse. However, the soldier quickly sapped out of it. "You little bastard-" he growled, coming towards him with a fist, but Warden moved fast, reaching for the man's gun and yanking it out of the holster.

He aimed. He fired.

...

"Send out the rescue party, Jared. He's ready."