Carrious Darbyshire Posted March 9, 2012 Share Posted March 9, 2012 You should consider applying for the AiR.=============================== “...as I have said before, Mr. Octavian. I do not have the time or motivation to pay lip service to your dishonesty.” Inquisitor Darbyshire dryly remarked, carefully setting the crimson remains of a thumbnail on the sterile, steel tray before him. Tired brown eyes studied the sliver and the reddening gauze beside it before raising to drink in the details of the man before him. Discens Gregor Octavian. Age twenty-four. Brother, husband, father. Traitor. That last word settled uncomfortably in a shady corner of Darbyshire's mind while he calmly regarded Gregor; a raging sea of malice beneath a polite, even pleasant facade. The soldier flashed a warm, toothy smile as he caught himself in an introspective loop, bringing his attention to the task at hand. “I have politely asked you a series of questions this evening. I am pleased that you have been forthcoming with many of the answers. Truthful answers. It is the little lapses in our civil discourse that make me unhappy.” He began, setting the pliers on the table with a faint, metallic clang and rising to stretch his legs. Carrious inwardly sighed as his dark eyes appraised his once-pristine dress gloves and slowly tugged them off of each hand. The blood had already ruined this pair.“On the tray before you sits seven nails. That is one for each lie you have told me this evening. You are fortunate that I am a leanient man, Mr. Octavian. I very much value moral integrity and am providing you with the unique opportunity to ensure that yours returns and takes a firm foothold upon your soul. More importantly, I take no pleasure in physical torment. I have found that if I beat somebody enough, they will tell me what I wish to know to make the beating stop.” He said, heavy bootsteps echoing within the brightly lit interrogation chamber as he paces on the other side of the table. “I also do not wish to inspire any supernatural fear in your heart because it is important for you to know that what is happening to you this evening is very real and is entirely of your design. I am no psyker. I am not omniscient. I have been studying you for some time and know most of the answers there is for you to provide. That...” He trailed off, leaning forward to carefully remove the cloth from Gregor's mouth and wipe the blood from his hands. “...is why I appear so disappointed when you lie. I do not think you are lying to my face. I -know- you are lying to my face.” “I...I told you everything!” Gregor pleaded, voice rasping as he gasps for air. The man was a wreck, carefully styled hair matted to his forehead with perspiration, bits of it irritating his now constantly twitching eye. He would gladly slide it out of the way were his hands not tied to the chair. “I...I didn't take the schematics. I don't even -care- about your stupid Enforcer!” He growled, defiance boiling behind his sapphire eyes. Carrious remained unimpressed. The glow behind his smile slowly faded and he gave his head a shake, raising a hand to move some hair from his own face; a subtle hint that he understood Gregor's discomfort and had no such trouble himself. “It disappoints me that you refuse to admit to what you have done.” Carrious replies, sitting back down and reaching a hand forward to rest his palm on the edge of a manila folder. “As I have said, I take no pleasure from physical torment. It is psychological responses that hold more importance to me.” He explains, slipping a finger under the edge of the folder and flipping it open to reveal a dossier to the pair of them. Gregor's eyes betrayed his horror. “Mathilda Octavian. Age twenty-two. Sister, wife, mother. The wife of a traitor.” The soldier began to recite, sliding a picture of the woman from beneath a paper clip and shoving it closer towards Gregor. “It is very unusual, is it not? This seems to be a candid photograph of Mathil-” “Leave her alone!” Gregor spit out, interrupting Carrious and summoning a minor frown to the young inquisitor's features. Carrious snatched up the towel and shoved it back into the man's mouth, making sure to painfully smash the man's teeth aside in the motion. He was lying about not enjoying the torment. “...it seems that this photograph of Mathilda was taken without her knowledge. She looks like she is going to the bank, doesn't she? Since it has no time stamp I can only presume that this was taken between 1345 to 1530 on a Sunday.” He says, leaning forward to study the picture and allowing himself a brief chuckle. “Yes, it must be! That is the only day and time I have watched her go to the bank on a week by week basis. Such a strange habit, she has.” He remarks, very nearly to himself. Eyes narrow as he allows the unspoken threat to hammer the point into Gregor's mind with a little more finality. Despite himself, his smile has grown just a little more. “I'm going to leave you here to reconsider your answers for our next meeting. I sincerely hope I am not forced to motivate your cooperation.” Carrious, once again, lies, before gathering up his gloves and moving towards the door. As the inquisitor left the room he could not help but reflect upon something. It was not whether or not Gregor should be unbound or his mouth freed. It was not whether or not the prisoner should be allowed to use the facilities; the humiliation of being unable to would only help Carrious break him. In the very forefront of Carrious' mind he simply could not decide: Tacos or a burger? The inquisitor was hungry and could only assume most of the numerii would be clogging up the DFAC by now. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Disraeli Calderwood Posted March 9, 2012 Share Posted March 9, 2012 This was cool until I got to the strange Danielle Steel ending. Not sure now. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
