Star Trek: Starbase 777 - solitary-confinement

As for Paco... The scientist was brought down to the smaller, solitary cells. Rhean seemed to either lie or rethink his insistence on having a talk, and perhaps it was for the better - if his demonstration in the communal cell was anything to go by. The human was led into the small, closet-sized room, and locked in there. It was hard to discern if the agents left him there or stationed themselves by the door due to the thick walls... he could only stay guessing.

Before absolutely going into full alert maximum survival overdrive survival mode, Paco decided to use the last ounce of psychological stability and clarity to do one of the most important things when entering a scary ass closet... finding the toilet. Or a sink... or anything that can be appropriately used for..... you know....

Barren, empty, small room, with just a single dim, fluorescent light above his head.

Thrown in a place probably even smaller than both the brig of his captors vessel and the jail cell he was just in. Both were uncomfortably tight, cramped would be a better term for it... uncomfortably cramped...but at least there were other people to make it at least feel bigger than it actually was. People he could talk to and maybe partially not think about whatever the fucking hell this hell hole is.... the deepest of deep hell holes... Paco reached out his arms to see how much room he actually had. There was none. His arms very easily touched both ends of the chamber. Truly a closet. Not the kind of quirky fun closet that Harry Potter was forced to be stuffed in under the stars. Potter could at least lie down, sleep, and be at some glimpse of comfortable. All Paco can do here was crumble down into a little ball in the floor. The scientists breathing grew heavy as he frantically looked around for a way out. Somewhere to run. But there was nothing. In desperation Paco kicked the walls around him to the floor, praying to Sisko and the Prophets there would be a vent or something he could squeeze his body or at least feel some more space. "O-okay... Hehehe... uhh.. c-can we have that talk now? uhhh deep shakey breath in h-helloo?" He tapped the door a couple times with his foot and waited.... after a beat, a minute... no response. "C-can I get out now? Please... Hello?" He asked again as he crawled, well turned with the amount of space he has, to the door and gave it a hard knock or two. Then again after a few. nothing. * *The walls... are they closing in? and why was it getting hard to breathe..oh shit! "HEY! LET ME OUT! LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT! GET ME THE FUCK OUT PLEASE!" Paco kicked and punched the walls with all his might as he yelled out a flurry of Filipino and Bajoran curses and please towards his captors, desperately screaming for someone to hear. He was at it until his fists bled. (edited)

"PACO WANT OUT! PACO WANT OUT! PACO WANT OOUTTT!!" Paco frantically continued to cry out as he continued to bang and kick on the door. "I-ina mo (your mother). t-tanginamo (google it.)... Mama mo.. Mama mo... m-mama..." He would've started hurling insults against their mothers, break into the anger phase of grief, but he couldn't. The air grew more and more difficult to breathe, and wasn't it cold as shit here a moment ago? why was he sweating? You're not supposed to sweat when its fucking cold, the fuck is this?! With shaky, heavily trembling hands, which still stung from the pain of hitting either the metallic door or hard concrete, Paco wiped his face. Blood mixed with sweat and tears as Paco slumped back down into a corner and pushed himself even deeper into it as he felt a subtle shift in the walls. They we're closing in. Paco looked up to see if there was something he could grab up there, or anything he could've missed. All he could see was the ceiling moving further away from him the longer he looked. That dim fluorescent light mocked him as he reached towards it. He felt truly far away from God now... "A-abandon.. hope... all ye wh-who e-enter here..." He said to himself softly as he rested, the air choked him in each word. *"M-midway u-upon t-t-he journey of m-my life..." *The cold struck his back like a dagger that both sunk deeper and slowly slid up his spine. Tears streamed down his face. "I-I f-find mys-self w-within a f-forest dark...." (edited)

How long has it fucking been? A few minutes? A few days? Weeks? Months!? YEARS???!!! Neither Paco nor his Roleplayer knew the actual amount of time passed since he was tossed into this miserable cold stone and steel closet his captors call solitary confinement. That ought to be determined by the rule of the GMs. Regardless, to Paco, the actual answer didn't matter. All time was lost to the twilight by the dim fluorescence that flickered mocked him and the cold which chilled the sweat, blood, and tears that soaked his uniform. This was worse than the turbolift. Stuck in that, he could blame its failures on something mechanical or mystical to turn it into a threat. The lift made noise, which drowned out the loudness of silence. He was capable for calling for help. There were ways for him to claw his way out of there if he were desperate enough. He knew Irrational as it was, to hold the same fear and disdain to the Turbolift as McCoy held against the Transporters, but he at least knew he had some control. That was not here. Paco was stripped from it. All he had domain over was his little corner as his body shivered greatly against the cold, bracing himself tightly to protect himself against the walls which surrounded him. Whenever the lone light flickered and briefly went dark, Paco let out a blood curdling scream as he squeezed himself deeper in his corner, seeing the walls advance ever closer towards him. Followed by a long period of loud crying and wailing. Something to drown it out. Drown the loudness of the silence that has enveloped him. The soulless godforsaken silence which amplified the rapid pounds of his heart trying to escape his chest; his shaky faltering breathing; and the ringing that pierced his psyche and soul whenever he exhausted his breath and stopped. divider

09:56

At one point, after a few more minutes of this bullcrap, as everything around him spun and he felt his insides trying to flood their way to him throwing up, Paco stood up. Disorented, confused, anrgy, scared, Paco initially slammed against the wall, breathing heavily as he tried to gather his bearings, and to some extent... his shattered marbles. Then, with the little distance he had, rushed over to loudly slam his whole body against the door as hard as he could. "PAKAWALAN N’YO AKO! PUTANGINA, MGA HAYOP KAYO! PALAYAIN N’YO AKO!" He shouted as he slammed himself against the door again, and again, and again. It was disparate, but it was something. "¡VIVA PACITO EL GRANDE! ¡VIVA PACITO LIBRE! TANGINA MO! PUTANG INA MO! ¡VIVA PACITO LIBRE!" (edited)

And as soon as Paco went for that next slam... the door was opened. Which, to be fair, was a coincidence - evident by the way Rhean's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the bullrushing scientist, a bark of disbelieving laugh echoing around them through the corridor. "Woah-h-h there," the human was grabbed by his scruff and given a single shake, as if that would bring the man back to his senses and out of the grip of fear, "Well aren't you in shambles, little guy. This worked better than I anticipated."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!--" Paco was already in a state worse than 'shambles'. Let's just politely say, the singular shake absolutely made things magnitudes worse. Paco was just screamed and cried even more in sheer raw abject terror and fear, flailing and shaking around chaotically as he tried to punch, kick in the balls, and bite the nearest thing to him in the hopes of being let go. It was even to the point that he tried to rip his own collar off to try and escape. No amount of shaking would make him stop. It actually just amplified the amount of confusion, anger, and fear running around in his little anthropology science nerd brain right now. Which made everything all the more annoying If he could climb on top of Rhean like a mast of a sinking ship, he absolutely would and didn't give a shit because the floor is lava, the walls are closing in, and the only way out was up. * "BITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKOBITAWANMOAKO!" *||(Bitawan mo ako = LET ME GO!)|| Paco yelled repeatedly, on the top of his lungs, constantly as he even tried to plant his feet on Rhean's body to use him as a post to rip his clothes off to be free. If that didn't work, he was just kicking him then. Nothing made sense anymore to Paco, he was barely listening to anything anyone was saying. "CHINGA TU PUTA MADRE! PUTANGINAMO! CHINGATUPUTAMADRE! PUTANGINAMO!" this just continued. In endless cycles of screaming, crying, begging to be let go, and insulting everybody's mothers in all the languages he was proficient enough in to learn the equivalents of "putaningamo" from (including Portuguese, Vulcan and Klingon), accompanied by him trying to fight and physically resist, which while probably not even enough to hurt Rhean probably, was just extremely annoying and did I say, super loud?

"Oh for the love of-- do they hire weaklings into their herd?.." the Romulan winced, holding Paco at an arm's length like he was sick animal, meanwhile extending his other arm to one of the ensigns, palm up: "You. Give me the sedative." The slightly startled agent fumbled, but quickly produced a hypospray out of her kit, which Rhean took in his hand, thumb on the trigger. "Quit this, hevam," he growled out, pressing Paco against the wall to jab the hypo in the scientist's neck. "Swear, there's something deeply wrong with you lot..."

There was a point in Paco's screaming and flailing that, whilst the Romulan held him at arms lenght, Paco tried to swing to hop on his arm like a feral cat. He wasn't that small, but he was that desperate. "HWIIY KNVUK! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I FUCKED YOUR--AIIYEEEE m-mother..." and with that, Pacito El Grande is now sedated and an ideal passenger to wherever the hell they're planning to take him... preferably back to his friends where he would be less crazy.

He waited for a bit, just to ensure that the pest was indeed sedated, before unceremoniously throwing Paco over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes: "I knew humans are fragile, but seeing those stories confirmed like this... let's go throw him back to his friends." And with that, they began their return to cell 3...

At some point in the way back, Paco's body jerked once against Rhean’s shoulder, a muffled gurgle and a twitch against Rhean's shoulder followed a moment later. Long story short, Paco has puked on Rhean's back, either as unconscious and unintentional payback, or as the collective response of his body to suddenly being sedated after going absolutely batshit within however he was PaConfined in solitary. After a brief coughing fit, Paco slumps back to his potato-bag state, still unconscious.