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>"Then again..." he yelled, "If I'm not in good shape your BOX will get >nothing out of me!!!" He slammed himself into a wall hard enough to cut the >skin on his arm and yelled out-exxaggerating the pain-when anyone comes to >the door, he'll clasp his head in his hands and drop to the floor. >The man returned, this time shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, then >aiming a weapon through the little square opening. The stun came next, and >David remembered nothing more. David hits the floor hard... >When he awakened, his arm was bandaged and he was shackled firmly to the >floor with synthetic cuffs at his wrists, ankles, chest, and head. His head >hurt, and he realized he was wet from his own urine. He felt the ankle >cuffs tightening a little and heard a different voice, a woman's voice, say >"My three-year-old can do better than that little stunt, Fleeter. No wonder >you fleeters sent in the Marines. You're too dumb." The attendant gathered >her things and left. The man from before opened the door for her, laughing >at Boulay as he shut it again. He stopped struggling to conserve his energy, "But your 3-year old wouldn't torture a person who may be able to help you with your issues."
