Breaking a Legend

A legendary spy and his archnemesis have one final confrontation.

           The smell of mold, mildew, and stagnant water filled the cell.  It looked like it came straight from a medieval dungeon with slime-covered walls and thick chains dangling everywhere.  The ruggedly handsome squared jaw Scott Ottman hung from the ceiling by his wrists.  His heavily muscled naked body bore numerous faded scars.  He stirred but continue to hang limp as he tried to get his bearings.

            The solid oak door to the cell swung open with a squeak and four guards holding small machine pistols came in.  Professor Von Holdenburg followed his men in cradling his pet rat Pinky in his arms.  Holdenburg nods and a guard pulls out a cattle prod and runs it down Ottman’s back.

            The prisoner screams as waves of pain coursed through his body.

            “Wakey wakey agent Ottman.”

            “Von Holdenburg.”

            “You have grown cocky, Ottman, all those books and movies based on your exploits have gone to your head.”

            “I will get free then I’ll kill you.”

            “As I said you have grown cocky.  You fell into my trap so easily.  I spread those rumors that brought you here.  I even arranged for you to rescue that lovely lady whom you took to bed.  It was just a matter of her drugging you as you slept and bringing you to me.”

            “This isn’t the first time you have caught me, and I have escaped before.”

            “Those times I had other plans and didn’t give you my full attention, even so, you have failed time and again to finish me.  Last time it was in Beirut wasn’t it.”

            “I had you in my sights and should have pulled the trigger.”

            “But you couldn’t, not with that bus full of school children that would have exploded if my heart stopped.  I’m a little disappointed your writer friend didn’t include that in his latest book.”

            “You won’t kill me, without me you will have nobody to challenge you, you will get bored.”

            “Who said anything about killing you?  I plan to make an example of you, Ottman.”

            “You can’t break me, I’m not only a trained agent but ex-special forces.”

            “I think I will not only break you but also ensure your government sends no more agents after me.”  Von Holdenburg turns to the door.  “Bring in the tools.”

            A dozen guards wheel in several crash carts filled with surgical devices.

            “Shall we start with the toes on your right or left foot?”

 

            It was weeks later that the agency finally located Scott Ottman in a filthy hospital in South Africa.  Scott Ottman was flown home and quietly retired.  He was a completely broken man, or what little Holdenburg left of him.  Someone had removed his legs mid-thigh, his arms at mid-bicep.  Professor Von Holdenburg had been right, the agency never again attempted to interfere in his plans, no agent dare risk the fate of Ottman.