It stopped. Everything stopped. The torture, the mocking. His captors seemingly disappeared the moment the words 'do your worst' had left the mouth of the Guardsman. Steiner kept his guard up for several minutes. He listened intently, trying to make out some...ambient sound. But he could not. All the sergeant heard was the rugged sound of his own ragged breathing, and the muttered ambiance of the ship's dull, constant hum. Once it was clear the interrogator had no intention of speaking up again or applying more of that [i]horrific[/i] cold inducement drug, Franklin dropped his guard- partially. He allowed himself to simply breathe, and take stock of the situation. He'd been captured, presumably, by members of Chaos. They had yet to mention their god by name, so Steiner's assumption was that he was dealing with Chaos Undivided. The same force that the Despoiler- the Great Enemy of Cadia- belonged to.

At least Steiner was starting to piece together information on his captors. More like educated guesswork, at this point; the longer Frank was imprisoned here, the more solidified his theories would become. It was odd that they hadn't been more upfront about their allegiances. Most cultists jumped at the chance to infect Guardsmen with the heretical teachings of their putrid daemon gods. Was Steiner dealing with a special breed? Or was there something else going on that he hadn't quite placed? [i]'Not that it really matters.'[/i] He thought with a grimace. [i]'I'm fucked, no matter who these guys are.'[/i]

Lost deep within his thoughts, Steiner hadn't noticed time withering away around him. He had plenty to think about. Plenty of regrets to consider, and horrific nightmares to relieve while he sat in the cold, listening to his own chest rising and falling in the darkness. It wasn't until a great force impacted against his abdomen that Steiner was wrenched back into reality; if one could call this hell real. A strike from a baton nearly broke his ribs. A fist cracked against his nose, drawing blood. They beat him. Steiner could do nothing but grind his teeth together and hold back an agonized scream as he was turned to a bloody pulp. Frank couldn't fight back. He couldn't move to defend himself from the raining blows. All he could do was tuck his chin against his chest with all of his remaining strength, and wait until it ended. It did, in short order, when electricity was sent cascading through his squat, muscular form. Not even a Cadian Shock Trooper could withstand such forces, and Steiner lost consciousness- assuming he would never wake up again.

But somehow, regrettably, he did. Steiner eventually awoke, his head swimming from the blunt force trauma it had endured. Steiner could taste the rust-like presence of blood in his mouth. He could feel it running down from his nose; it was harder to breathe than ever. It took a great deal of effort just to suck air into his lungs. Now his feet were on the floor. He'd been forced into a squat. Frank moved, the clinking and rustling of chains telling him all he needed to know. There was no getting out of his position. Perhaps if he was ten years younger and unharmed, Franklin could pull some acrobatic, gymnast shit and get his arms out from behind him. But there wasn't any way to get out with the chains firmly anchored to the floor.

When the panic faded, Steiner once more went back to listening. He could hear more out in the darkness. Breathing that was not his own. The interrogator had been utterly silent, so Frank knew this was a new presence- or a new tactic, depending on how cynical he was feeling at the moment. The medical sergeant tried to single out the number of individual patterns of breathing he could hear. Three...maybe four, others? Five? It was difficult to differentiate from some of them. Steiner could tell there were more than two, however, which led him to believe the situation had changed rather drastically. His captors must've figured they couldn't break him the old way, so they were trying something different. He waited until he heard voices. Someone calling out if any of them were awake. [i]'More prisoners?'[/i] He wondered, skeptically. Steiner chose to remain silent, continuing to simply observe. This could very well be a trick. An attempt to get him to open up to those he perceived as fellow 'prisoners.' 

Or, Frank could genuinely be in cell with others like him. Other crew of the voidship that had survive the encounter and been taken captive. Another voice came. More high pitched. A woman, maybe. She sounded as distressed as the first man to cry out. [i]'Decent acting if they're cultists, gotta admit.'[/i] Steiner wasn't fully convinced yet. He continued to wait and listen. Another voice. A man, this one angry, demanded to know what was going on. Frank swore he recognized the accent from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it. He'd worked with someone that sounded like that at least once before. 'Is that...A Catachan?' It had to be. What he was doing on that ship, he didn't know. But no one else in the galaxy sounded like that, as far as the medic was aware. Catachans didn't fall to Chaos, did they? Those from that ugly death world were legendary for their fortitude. [i]'Gotta be another prisoner. It's gotta be.'[/i] He tossed out the idea that it was a simple trick of the mind. Frank needed...[i]some[/i] hope here. He'd go mad within days otherwise. So, taking a leap of faith, Steiner decided to speak up as well.

"My best guess? Our voidship was attacked, maybe by Chaos cultists. Tied me to some chair and tried to get me to talk. Wanted to know who I was and where we were going." Steiner gave the rest of the prisoners a rundown. If that's really what they were. "Didn't tell 'em a damn thing, though."