[M] 'Hunted'; the interrogation / IC

[~N~]

Slumped over upon a chair.

In a cow suit.

And they wanted to know his name.

"Why should I..." Charlie started to slur out, his lips caked with drool that had obviously dried there a while ago. He felt... like he was going to throw up, the nausea of the drugs, the room, the voices and presences of these... things...

But he couldn't. His stomach was locked, like his body hung; dead weight. Unable to produce anything, even emotion, much less a motion, much less something so riotous and raucously spasmodic as vomit.

What chunks might do for these two, anyone knew.

What one name would do... did they want two?

His initial utterance burbled upon his lips like a bubbled expulsion from the bowels of a bog, erupting from a mind completely embanked in the fog of...

...whatever.

It was hardly categorical resistance, nor could Charlie himself, fully lucid, ever classify it as such, had he the mental faculties to even do so.

It flopped instead like a limp frog upon a soft, muddy bank--nothing greater than the potential expulsion of an idle mind, curious with boredom.

"Charlie," he burped as though he was going to blow chunks from puffy cheeks. "Detweiler," croaked, true to form, like a toad.

In a cow suit.

[Wattz]

He awoke as if from sleep to bright and unforgiving walls. His focus was eerily clear, though his eyelids drooped limply, the two stark figures immediately emerging into view. They spoke, and as they did, the man’s mouth parted as if to speak, though he truly knew not what to say.

What should he call this? Dream seemed too simple, too obvious. Hallucination, perhaps? Heaven forbid he should deem it reality. But no, no, yes, dream was the most plausible escape. He would awaken from this one, perhaps feeling the same languid apathy, perhaps even thinking these masked apparitions were real in lingering minutes, but it would fade behind memories of bottled perfume as all dreams did.

The man’s head hung back to expose a fleshy throat, muscles struggling against the thick atmosphere. Only his heavy breathing could be heard in the chamber, until at last he found an answer he could deem passable.

“Adam Baker.” His name weighed heavy on his tongue, but also curled his lips into a smile.

[V]

Justin was sitting on a chair. He didn't know how he got there but he didn't care either, probably should but he didn't feel like it. Wasn't the first time it had happened. Justin's fingers twitched irritably.

Two masked fellows in suits approached, quicker than Justin liked but he wasn't worried.

"You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal."

"You do not realise it now but you cannot lie."

“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”

"Ahhh," replied Justin testing out his tongue, "Justin Crane, I'd shake your hand masked men but I still lack the strength to do so.

"I'm quite happy you've removed anger and panic from my emotions, I love my control. And I can't lie? I'm glad the temptation is gone."

[Mr.Cynic]

Nirvana. A grand ectsay as paralyization wrecked his body. The swirlings of vertigo and the chiming of winds. Colors that passed each nerve ending. A sense of no control, as if slightly drowning in a big giant bathtub. The drug seemed to take over most functions and yet it revealed a new world, even this one revealed a real world. All drugs and all things reveal a new kind of existence and existence that was interupted by bright lights and a swirling environment. There was stiffness and no sense of panic. He felt completely at peace, which could be said about his memory.

And the noise in the room. A stiffling humming that broke away and burrowed into his head, he felt the need to lose sanity and yet for some reason he felt complacent through this great and grand nirvana. This paradise of complacentcy. The paradise of being unable to move. They asked a question and he realized his own life suddenly. He could suddenly realize the ability of functioning. It felt almost as if he were finally awakening or if he was being reborn again. This most definetely must be how newborn babies felt, except for the whole not being able to move thing. That could be considered a little more fucked up on that end.

“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”

You started to care, just a little, as their proximity became intimidating.

“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”

Ah yeah. Now these were coming back. The world seemed far more and more clear. Far less colorful and far less drowning. The nirvan was not fading, but the high was beginning to dissipate. Trying to test it out, he could feel the connections of mind and mouth coming together.

"Could you make this less freaky?" Jone asked, "I'm Jone Pryce, by the way. But you really go all out Saw style don't you man. Maybe we could add some color ya know to brighten the place up. I'm thinking maybe a yellow or a cream color, make it a little more welcoming and inviting."

That was a mouthful and yet it seemed to clearly coming out of him. So it seemed he had the function of speak and say. Well that's cool. But the moving part, not really. After a while he was sure his ass going to go numb, but then he wouldn't be able to feel it. Since his ability to resist was, well encouraged to take a nap.

"And do you...got like smokes man?" Jone asked, "Been kind of out of it. But now it's time to relax, ya know?"

[Housemaster]

It all seemed too strange, yet 'strange' was something he was fairly used to. Izzy limped a rather pathetic smile as his eyes glanced and glared at the dull bright walls. The sight made him giggle... well... giggle, then half-choke on his saliva as the spitter ran down his open mouth.

"Whaaaaa... the fuckin' hell?" he laughed again, lazy though it be.

His eyes were dead tired and nearly bloodshot, almost a wonder that they are still working at all to be honest. You see, Izzy here, a nice responsible young chap, was doing something we folks call "doing hard drugs". I would tell you what they were, but even Izzy himself is fairly uncertain on what he took and the dosage required to seemingly transport him into a bright empty room. It took him a long while for his eyes to adjust fully to the presence of the two large figures. Their appearance immediately made Izzy snap...

"Oh shit.." he laughed, "I musta bought a coupla tickets to the circus..." His eyes shifted into a dreamy state, "Mummy loves the circus... pfff..pfaa ha ha ha!"

His amusement by their appearance did not seem to stifle their composure, but regardless of the high-as-shit rocker they started their questions.

“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”

"Holy Jesus... you talk!" Izzy gleed as he waited for more of what they had to say, thinking it was a really realistic hallucination.

“Muscle control will return to you eventually, depending on your compliance. You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal.”

Izzy, as a classical anarchist does, immediately tried to move his body. Finding that the two doctor fellows were quite right in their statement, he let a creepy smile escape his face... with some drool gracefully dripping onto his fur jacket.

“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”

"Really!?" This seemed to have excited him, "I am a fantastic rockn'rolla..." he tested, to his glee he was able to say it.

Truth be told, Izzy StarChewer (a name he changed to at the age of 15) was quite a successful british musician. His fame more or less stems from his antics more then his music, but regardless people show up in droves to see what crazy things he pulls of at his concert. For this reason, Izzy is a fairly great "rockn'rolla".

"Name's Izzy StarChewer, strange you be askin' for my name now innit?" His eyes drifted upwards as his entire face stretched in a dumbfounding smile. "Lovely place you've got here... needs some decoratin'..." the drugs obviously did not mix well with whatever drugs Izzy took beforehand.

[John]

The whole thing just felt wrong. It wasn't so much where she found herself upon awakening as it was the feelings that went with it. Admittedly this room, which she swore she had never been in before, was strange enough and felt wrong. However, it was how she felt about the whole that felt even more off. She knew, somewhere inside at least, she should have been scared out of her mind, but she was strangely calm. The whole thing s just felt wrong. It wasn't until the two tow figures came in that she learned why.

When they entered, she felt incredibly surprised. Mind you the surprise came from her lack of reaction, which by her expression, could have been described as stoic. It was all wrong, panic should have been setting in. After all she could remember enough to know that she was the type of person who had a problem with meeting new people; and she had a strange feeling that there was only a twenty-two per cent chance that these two were in fact people. That number, however, declined sharply when she heard them speak.

As she listened, she learned the reason for her calmness at the moment, though she wished she was better dressed for the occasion. Although she couldn't remember how or when exactly she had gotten here, she was still clothed in her red pyjamas,. Given the presence of the two beings she didn't know, under normal circumstances it would have been incredibly embarrassing. It was one of the many things which were floating around in her head, along with the things she needed to do today.

There was silence for a moment when the beings stopped speaking as her thoughts had wandered momentarily to writing that needed to be done. Though she had heard every word they said, it still took a moment for them to register. Obviously a side effect of the drugs that they had given her. For just a moment, she wondered if she had taken her medication before they took her. Deep inside she hoped that whatever they had given her wouldn't wear off if she hadn't. It was then that the silence was broken by words which came with an English accent in answer to the question posed by the beings.

“Beth. Beth Dent.” Beth's head titled a little to the side as she stared at the foreboding figures. “And you are?”

[Auki]

Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;

"My name?…Nathaniel Welsh."

As nice as it was to gain a straight answer, the slow nature of his tongue did not make it seem like true co-operation. It might have been the after-effects of the drugging, but his eyes were too alert to convince them so.

“Thank you, Nathaniel.”


Client Two - Corinne Anderson;

"Corinne... Anderson. Corinne Sylvia Anderson, and may I ask your names?"

“You can refer to me as Esqu.”
“You can refer to me as Dire.”
Their answers merged together as they spoke over one another; the reply was instant. There were many questions they were bound to answer, and others that they were bound to ignore, but to them, it was a frivolity.


Client Three - Beth Dent;

“Beth. Beth Dent… and you are?”

Why their names mattered so greatly to these humans was something they understood the psychology of, if not the practice of it. It did nothing to change the situation they had placed themselves in.

“Esqu.”
“Dire.”

They spoke their respective names and then added, “Esquire, if you must refer to us in pair.”


Client Four - Justin Crane;

"Ahhh, Justin Crane. I'd shake your hand masked men but I still lack the strength to do so... I'm quite happy you've removed anger and panic from my emotions, I love my control. And I can't lie? I'm glad the temptation is gone."

They weren’t looking for conversation on such things; it was merely their duty to present the relevant facts. Answers kept their jobs easier but needless information did not. They waited silently for his mouth to finally come to rest.

“Your answer is appreciated, Justin,” said Dire.
Esqu added, “Unfortunately, the temptation to lie might still be there, even though you cannot submit to it. We cannot completely alter human nature from what it has become.”


Client Five – Jane Evans;

"A name is important to its self, and to the person who was given the name at birth. I am unimportant; my name is unimportant. You said I can't lie, so am I lying now?"

“Your analogy is interesting, Jane…” Esqu replied.
“…But it holds no lies.” Dire finished.

“You are bound by similar laws as we,” they spoke together, “And we are bound by truth.


Client Six – Melena Jones;

"Melena, Melena Jones."

The answer was simple, straightforward. Unlike many of the others, she did show an intention to ‘beat around the bush’… or however the expression went. They accepted her attitude without passing comment – after all, what more was there to say. Her name was not even an interest for either of the duo.


Client Seven - Suzy Peterson;

The girl stared into space for a few moments after they asked their question, before she summoned an answer.

“S-Susan…Susan Peterson, but everyone just calls me Suzy.”

“That’s lovely, Suzy,” they spoke together, emotionless but not unkind, “Thank you.”


Client Eight - Izzy StarChewer;

"Name's Izzy StarChewer, strange you be askin' for my name now innit?"

The man did not seem to be quite as… controlled as most the others. He was certainly the only one to giggle at the situation.

“Your name does not concern us. Your ability to answer was all was needed to assess,” Esqu explained, “But we thank you for the reply, Izzy.” Despite what they said, and however many times they had said it, their tone did not sound appreciative. If anything, they sounded bored by the mundanity of the first trial.


Client Nine - Jone Pryce;

"Could you make this less freaky? I'm Jone Pryce, by the way. But you really go all out Saw style don't you man. Maybe we could add some color ya know to brighten the place up. I'm thinking maybe a yellow or a cream color, make it a little more welcoming and inviting."

"And do you...got like smokes man? Been kind of out of it. But now it's time to relax, ya know?"

“There is nothing about this that is supposed to frighten you, Jone,” Esqu replied passively, “Quite the opposite.” The man’s audacity was nothing short of impressive, albeit irritating.

“And ‘smokes’ do not exist in a place like this,” Dire finished.


Client Ten - Jazmine Farahani;

"Dr. Jazmine Hiyam Farahani. Arabic. Translates to 'the Hopeful vine with beautiful foliage that climbs the House of Farahani'. Doctor of Psychology."

The answer was more than they wished for, and more than they really cared to hear. You could not fault someone for being over-informative in such a situation however. It was certainly easier than the stubborn silence they often found themselves subjected to.

“We’re glad you are so willing to work with us, Jazmine.”

They did not even consider referring to her by title; such things would become insignificant in the hours to come.


Client Eleven – Breeze Rydell;

“I… Bre eze… Ryd…”

Her head fell forward heavily but it seemed that she was trying to answer their question. There was always at least one person who responded badly to their ‘chemicals’. It was an annoyance that they were inclined to forgive her for.

“If you are in discomfort, please inform us. Despite appearances, we are not here to make your time a misery… not for most of you, anyway.”


Client Twelve - Adam Baker;

“Adam Baker.”

The smile that plastered itself upon the man’s lips was… odd to them. The people that they found themselves with could be complacent or eccentric, sometimes switching between the two in an attempt to understand the surroundings. They often held neutral expressions as they groped to find fear at their ignorance. This man almost seemed not to care. The doctors took it in their stride,

“Very good, Adam.”


Client Thirteen - Dame Victoria;

"A name is not given, it is earned. I do not deny you the truth, I simply regulate its strength. I am Dame, a name given to me by queen and country. The rest will be earned in due time. That is my title, what is yours?"

“Co-operation will be your ‘saviour’, Victoria,” Esqu murmured, not taking bait in the way she snarled. They, of course, already knew her name. Such information was not the goal of the first trial.

“We have no title; they are an earthbound attribute,” Dire continued, “We carry only names.”


Client Fourteen - Gregory Springer;

“Who said I’m resisting? My name is Gregory Springer.”

“We’re pleased that you intend to keep this simple,” Esqu replied. The room seemed quieter without the boy’s rambling; it seemed true that the younger they were, the more irritating they tended to be.

“And this is not a kidnapping,” said Dire, “You were the one to bring yourself here, after all.”


Client Fifteen - Charlie Detweiler;

"Charlie Detweiler.”

“Well done,” they muttered together. The answer did not seem to come easily to the man; his mouth seemed preoccupied dealing with other matters.

“Try to relax, Charlie. These questions should take less than half-the-hour, considerably shorter depending on your replies.”

---

All Clients;

Their faces close in around yours and a bright light suddenly blinds your vision. You can see no torch in their hands, and yet, it feels as though they stare into your skull. If only you could see past those masks… but no. The eyeholes are shadow-coated; gazing at them does nothing but cause your mind to ache.

“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”

“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”

[SmileyCassandra]

Melena Jones

The men said nothing when she told them her name, and she hung her head as she began to feel dizzy. She then looked back up at them, and was blinded by a bright light. She cursed under her breath, and closed her eyes tight. Way to kill the headache no? She then heard them speak, and her eyes opened once more.

“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”

“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”

My ambition in life? Why would someone want to know that? Holding her captive, and asking her for her ambition in life? Melena looked at them for a few seconds, and blinked as she began to answer.

"Ambition is like a dream is it not? Something you wish to achieve through hardwork, and determination? Well, you want details? Here are your details. I want to cure cancer, and make men and women around the world healthy. I want to study, and become smart enough to do so. It is something I desire to do, and I honestly believe I can do it. I don't want to hear my mother run to the bathroom at night, and I do not wish to see another friend die. Cancer causes many deaths, and I wish to cure it, and make things at least a little bit better" she said, now taking a deep breath. Her voice was strong, but she still did not move. There, they got their answer.

She then looked at them again, and waited for what they had to say next.

[Mr.Cynic]

Jone Pryce stared at them with a bit of a raised eyebrow. Really, no cigarettes what so ever. God this was going to be a long day wasn't it. He hadn't quite expected this be the thing he had to do, but he simply stared at them. How was kidnapping a person not creepy? Or the fact that he didn't know where he was not creepy? How were those mask not creepy?

It didn't quite really matter, he revelled in watching horror movies. It was simply he would prefer they were on equal terms. It was okay though, he supposed. But what really mattered to him was that he was going to go a day without his habit and that was going to burn a whole in his thinking.

“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”

These people really needed to get their facts straight, how was a question like that not creepy? He needs to stop focusing on this. He only smiled for he already knew the answer.

"You know man," he paused, "All my life I've always been the outcast's outcast. The goths and the emos couldn't handle me, alongside teachers and students. I felt like a stray. I felt like no one could hear me."

He stared them.

"Now I don't like going into the gravest of details, cause I'd bore you," he paused, "But I dediced a long time ago that I would achieve giving a voice to those whom don't have a voice. It sounds so stupid. But people ignore the little details in front of them and forget to listen to certain people or other species of this world. I want to speak for those whom don't have a voice, like I never had a voice. I'm a writer. I encourage people to speak and form opinions. I encourage people to speak up and listen to those whom they never considered to listen to."

Jone gave them another smile.

"So there you have it, my ambition in life to speak for those not spoken for," Jone said.

[Snotgirl]

If Gregory Springer could, he would have recoiled in surprise. “I brought myself here? Aw come on! That’s one big lie. I wouldn’t have come here without a bag of chips and root beer in hand. After school I always get that! Then again, that’s probably the reason I’m getting fatter.” He patted his stomach. Gregory wasn’t fat. He liked to run and fortunately had an excellent metabolism. Of course, he would credit it all to running track.

That’s when they shone the light into his eyes. “Jesus.” Gregory gasped, blinded. He shut his eyes tightly.

“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”

“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”

My…ambition?

“Well of course I want to be rich and famous, but then again, I’m pretty sure everyone would want to.”

Gregory tried to move his head, but no matter which way he moved it, the bright light would follow his eyes. He wished he could block the light, but even when he closed his eyes, the bright still shone through his eyelids. Of course, it wasn’t as strong but still.

“I….want to help people. You know, genuinely help people. Getting past all the shallow dreams most people have…I want to help people.”

Gregory said slowly. It was a question he occasionally thought about at night. But he never really thought deeply about what he really wanted.

“I thought about going into the Corp, but the U.S doesn’t seem to be helping at all with these wars. You know maybe follow my dad’s footsteps. But I don’t know if I could risk my life for someone I don’t know. I just don’t have a true answer for that.”

Gregory shrugged awkwardly

“I’m sorry.”