aviv_b_artwork | Treachery - Creating a Monster Part 4/?

TITLE:   Creating a Monster (Part 4 of the Treachery Series)
RATING:  PG-13 (this chapter) , Overall NC-17
WARNING: Graphic Violence
CHARACTERS: Ianto, Jack, Team
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; Aunty B's and RTD's
WORDS: ~ 1230
SUMMARY:  A post-cyberwoman fic. Ianto is transformed by UNIT.

Treachery (Part 1) here: http://aviv-b.livejournal.com/49816.html
All chapter are linked.

Jack contacted the team four days after the Cyberwoman was killed letting them know it was safe to return to work.

“I didn’t find any evidence of sabotage or a bomb, I’ve swept the entire Hub for any unusual chemical or biological traces and I believe we are clear. Owen and I have packed up Ianto’s workstation and a new Admin will be joining us next week. I want everyone here by 9 AM tomorrow.”

The next day Jack assembled the team and explained that Ianto had been relocated out of the country. He told them that Ianto had a new identity and that some friends of Jack would be helping Ianto to adjust to his new circumstances.

“And please don’t go poking around. I know its tempting, but his crime is a treasonable offense under our charter. If the Queen’s staff or the Prime Minister ever gets wind of this, he’s a dead man. And I can’t guarantee your safety either if this leaks. So as cruel as this sounds, Ianto Jones doesn’t exist, never existed, and will never exist again. Are we clear?”

Everyone nodded yes. “Good.” Jack returned to his office certain that Tosh wasn’t going to follow his orders. Owen already knew where Ianto was, Gwen hadn’t really had much interaction with Ianto, but Tosh, his brave genius would be tempted to just do a little looking. He smiled knowing that he had laid a false trail so detailed and believable that her curiosity would be satisfied. And UNIT would be sending him false updates periodically that he would keep buried where only the most determined searcher could find them. And he had no doubt that Tosh would succeed eventually and then she would be placated. He’d been running cons and faking paper trails for longer than she’d been alive. Everything would be just fine.

***

Ianto held out as long as he could. He had expected most of what happened to him since arrived at the UNIT facility. Hours of endless interrogation. Sleep deprivation. Days of total darkness followed by days of bright lights. Temperature extremes. Threats, bribes, punishments and rewards. White noise and total silence. He was surprised that he was only periodically roughed up a bit; he was never seriously beaten or sexually assaulted. That was something, at least, to be grateful for.

Mind probes, he reckoned he hated those the most. It was such an invasion of privacy, looking at his innermost thoughts, discovering his secrets and then using them to bend his will. Bend him they did, but he still didn’t break.

Then came the drugs. Drugs that made him agitated, drugs that made him feel powerful, drugs that induced hallucinations. Drugs that left him sniveling in his own snot and urine back in his cell. He felt himself slipping but hung on to his sanity and his identity with every last bit of strength that he had.

Finally, they combined the drugs and the mind probes and Ianto broke. He couldn’t remember who he was, or where he was, or even why he was. And that was exactly what UNIT had hoped to achieve. Jack hadn’t been kidding when he told Ianto that UNIT would be able to use his talents. UNIT not only could use him, they could enhance him. And they did.

They stripped out his decency, his morality, his conscience and his will. False memories were implanted. New knowledge imparted and a new identity created for him. He even had a new appearance. They had surgically altered his face, particularly his nose which was a distinguishing characteristic. He was still very handsome, but blander, more ‘average’ less likely to attract notice. Yes, UNIT had big plans for Prisoner Number 35417. With his memory and intelligence, natural cunning and almost preternatural ability to fade into the background, they had no doubt that their investment in him would pay off handsomely.

Six months after the former Ianto Jones had been taken by UNIT the transformation was complete.

The four UNIT officials watched the demonstration from behind a one way mirror. Prisoner number 35417 walked into the empty room along with his handler. He was dressed smartly, but not ostentatiously in a dark grey suit. A few moments later a blindfolded young woman, chained and dressed in a red prison jumpsuit was brought in by a guard. The guard left and the handler turned and spoke.

“You know what you have to do.” Ianto nodded. The handler left the room to join the UNIT officials observing the exercise.

The officials watched in horrified fascination as Ianto circled the woman kneeling on the ground. Ianto reached down and tore the blindfold off. “My god,” one of them thought, “she’s practically a child.”

The girl was begging him for mercy, pleading with him to not hurt her. He smiled and knelt down beside her. He grabbed her and brutally kissed her, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. As he went to stand, her head seemed to explode. In one swift motion, Ianto had pulled his weapon from its holster under his suit jacket and delivered a lethal bullet just under her chin. Ianto smiled and closed his eyes as a kind of ecstasy overcame him. A few moments later he had moved over to examine what was left of the woman.

As Ianto casually examined his handiwork, one of the UNIT officers felt his legs going out from under him. Another ran from the room as she became physically ill. The two remaining officials and the trainer stood riveted as Ianto examined what was left of the girl’s skull, the blood spatter on the wall behind her and shook his head in disgust.

“He’s unhappy with that shot. It’s one thing to practice on mannequins, quite another to shoot a live person. He needs to change the angle of the gun slightly so that the bullet stays inside the skull. Much neater, really the only way to effectively kill someone with a gun in a public place without being noticed.” The trainer laughed. “We’ll work on that tomorrow; fortunately, we have some more live targets to practice with.”

An officer turned to the trainer. “Is he really as cold-blooded as he looks? And what’s to stop him from turning on us?”

“No, he’s not that cold-blooded, he’s much, much worse. He has no moral compass; he does exactly what he is ordered to do. And his neural implants not only encourage him to comply, they reward him with a chemical stimulus that produces a very pleasant sensation reinforcing the desired behavior. And we have additional rewards for him when he completes a mission successfully. On the other hand, if he falters, the chemical stimulus is quite unpleasant. In experiments, prisoners have killed their own family members to obtain the pleasurable and avoid the unpleasurable sensations.”

“I don’t know…” the other official started to say.

“Look,” the trainer said bluntly. “You wanted a stone cold killer, a ruthless, dependable, untraceable assassin and that’s exactly what you’ll have when I’m done with him.”

With that, the trainer walked out of the observation booth closing the door behind him.

“We’ve created a monster,” one of the remaining officers said almost in a whisper.

The second officer sniffed, “Not really, though I suppose you could call him the first true Cyberman.”

Part 5 here: http://aviv-b.livejournal.com/85389.html