Suspects' Holding Cell

[etcircenses]

The vans drive for what seems like an hour before they come to a stop, and Peacekeepers blindfold and forcefully drag even the most cooperative suspects into a building.

The suspects are all held in one cell, a large, metal room with a thick door and a single ledge that serves as a bench. Bright fluorescent lights beam from overhead. There are no windows and no clocks, no sign of where they might be.

The Peacekeepers take off the blindfolds, though without much care for whether they come off all the way or chafe or stay slung around the suspects' necks. The suspects' hands are left cuffed behind their backs, and even the most ingenious of them won't be able to pick the lock on their restraints, but they're otherwise left to roam freely through the space.

Suspects are removed, one at a time, at unpredictable intervals, by Peacekeepers armed with tasers. Some take three hours to return, while others are back within only a minute. Each of them comes back having been clearly roughed up and pressed for information that they may or may not hold; some are bleeding or sporting the beginnings of black eyes.

They'll be sleeping here tonight.

Comments

[carsassian]

"In for," Garak repeated, a little exasperated. He'd forgotten that some individuals caught up in this world were more foreign or primitive than others. Communicating with those types would take work, but then again, the challenge might provide for some kind of entertainment.

The ridges around his brow lifted appeasingly. His head tilted ever so slightly. "What have you done to earn there suspicion, mister...?"

[calledmenasir]

He had come to recognize that mister was some form of title, one he was not sure how he earned.

"Nasir. And you believe it wise for me to discuss why I have been brought here when Peacekeepers watch every move?" It was less a question and more voicing his own skepticism of why Garak had asked and though he would receive an answer.

[carsassian]

"Mister Nasir," Garak nodded in a pseudo-greeting. It wasn't the formality he usually reserved for introductions, but he felt it worth the cursory effort all the same. "Are you telling me that you don't think here, in Panem, this wonderfully advanced civilization which is so very fond of recording us, we are being monitored at all times anyway?"

He smiled, but it was a cold, thin-lipped sort of expression. It seemed utterly foreign on his reptilian features. "No, there isn't much difference between this holding cell and the Training Center, if you really think about it. One is simply prettier. That's all."

[calledmenasir]

Nasir neither nodded back nor returned the smile. "If they had me monitored at all times they would know that I have done nothing to wrong them." His voice was full of frustration and the declaration was meant more for whoever was watching than Garak.

"Unless you believe us all guilty-- mister?" The title was foreign to him but that didn't mean he couldn't pick up on it. Perhaps that was the way one introduced themselves where this... thing was from.

[carsassian]

"Oh, just Garak is fine," he replied with a somewhat dismissive, self-effacing wave. "Plain simple Garak."

After the momentary humility, Garak turned his focus back on Nasir. He had a somewhat intense gaze, his eyes seemed to gleam a little bit unnaturally in the low-light. The truth was simply that Cardassian physiology meant that he could see significantly better here than basically anywhere else in the Capitol. Now if only it weren't so damn cold.

"But I do think that we're all guilty." The same cheery smile returned. "Of something, or another, anyway. Perhaps not what they think we're guilty of, but then why else would we have been brought here?"

[calledmenasir]

Nasir didn't see why Garak had to elaborate that his name was only that. Most of his friends held only one, or only one that they would reveal.

He continued to stare back at Garak, unnerved not by his gaze, the intensity of which he was used to. It was that smile that gave him pause. Why anyone would wear such here he didn't know.

"Then I am guilty for speaking mind." Nasir almost growled. "It has been some time since chain tied hands." He paused at the insinuation, something that had landed him here when previously spoken. "I forget my place."

[carsassian]

The way in which Nasir's very countenance seemed to shift didn't entirely escape him, but it was politely ignored. Rather, the detail was tucked away, stowed for inquiry and dramatic reveal at, presumably, a less tumultuous date. The thin-lipped smile remained firmly in its place, though it did temper slightly. It took effort to maintain such a perplexingly false expression, even for a Cardassian.

"Oh, my dear Mister Nasir," he began again, voice lilting in an altogether too familiar manner across the name he'd only just recently been granted. "A mind is a terrible thing to speak. You risk giving away far too much about yourself that way. People like a little bit of mystery-- Particularly here."

[calledmenasir]

Nasir didn't care for the way Garak spoke his name but he kept his expression neutral. It was as habitual for him now as it had been before Spartacus freed him. The look of a slave, someone who held no opinions or at least none of worth.

But that didn't keep him from talking.

"A difficult thing to maintain when the Capitol sees all." Nasir replied. "Yet I too have my secrets but none that have bearing on the reason for my presence here."

[carsassian]

"You people," Garak began his retort quickly, his voice full of fond exasperation. "You Terrans all seem to be of the mistaken opinion that your actions matter in a police state. We are under military rule, just as my people have been. It's quite a bit more efficient than your ridiculous notions of freedom and democracy. The only downside is when you end up on the wrong side of the state as we seem to be now."

He paused, fighting off another chill. He wanted a jacket, a blanket, anything to keep the humidity and dankness of the cell from his rough and scaled skin. Garak couldn't keep his annoyance at his own weakness from influence his tone when he spoke again. "It's a sacrifice we all make to live in a peaceful and productive society. We're to be made examples of, our guilt or innocence is entirely unimportant."

[calledmenasir]

"Ridiculous?" Nasir spat. He was prepared to launch into a virulent string of insults toward Garak and his whole society when he recalled where he was and how he had come to be here. He took a breath through his nostrils and they flared not only from that but from his anger.

"Most of my life I did not know freedom. You think I was raised in a place where it was given to me? Then you know nothing of me, Garak. I fought for my right to choose, to refuse commands and strike collar from neck. I fought against those who had taken it from me. Do you know what it is to bow and scrape before masters? To be used for every whim and filthy desire that comes to their mind? Do you know the pain of watching those you love crucified?

"Strike your excuses from mind and come to reason or fall forever to darkness."

[carsassian]

The ridges that stood in place of eyebrows on Garak's grey scaled face lifted ever so slightly as he listened to Nasir's miniature tirade. There was always something about passion to amuse him, even when the passion was, well, ill-advised and incredibly misplaced. He sucked in a breath of chilly, dank air, silently bemoaning his condition. Hell wasn't an instant of unfathomable pain, it was being made to endure small amounts of discomfort over an extended period of time.

"Well, if that's the case --and I'm willing to accept for a moment that it might actually be for you-- you should know just how we're expected to behave here. This ends with us dead or silenced and disgraced to the point that we can no longer even pretend to have a voice or any right to anything." His neck ridges flexed almost imperceptibly. It was cold, it was dark, but although he could see everything in the cell clearly, the anxiety of the enclosed space was getting to him. And Nasir's insistence on keeping their conversation on topic probably wasn't helping either.

"And no," he sighed heavily, attempting to match Nasir's drama with farce. "I suppose that when you get down to it, I'm nothing but a tailor who happened to find himself in the middle of a war zone. Before that I worked as a gardener, you know. Romulus was a bore on every conceivable level, but I should have stayed there a few more years. I'd built up quite a reputation for myself by the end of my stay."

[calledmenasir]

Garak didn't understand. But then, few people recognized their lot here, or else were too ready to accept it. Nasir remembered when he was like that and so he pitied Garak but the expression on his face was one of disgust. Pity didn't mean he couldn't hold another opinion of them.

Nasir was ready to end the conversation and proceed to ignore the thing-- man-- entirely. He was actually in the process of turning away when Garak mentioned something that caught his attention and his eyes darted back to the man and remained fixed on him.

"Romulus?" His voice was a mix of surprise and suspicion. "The place that bears his name is called Rome, not the name of the man himself."

[carsassian]

"Rome is a Terran City, Romulus is the homeworld of the Romulan people." His voice held only a mild irritation, though it was still less directed at Nasir than at the conditions of their situation. It was taking an undue amount of concentration for Garak to keep from shaking. Between the humid chill in the cell and the sensation of being enclosed, he wasn't doing well.

His eyes darted up and down from the concrete floor to the nasty expression on his fellow suspect's face. In spite of everything, there was something distantly comforting about being able to so quickly earn the ire of another person. Aggravation, like good lies, were a skill. He leveled Nasir with an expression somewhere near condescension and genuine patience. If the topic itself wouldn't provide a distraction, perhaps the tone of the conversation could serve just as well. "It's grey, and they're a grey people. There isn't another word for it in your language, I don't think."

[calledmenasir]

"The word 'Terran' falls from lips yet meaning falls short." But the use of the word 'homeworld' called to mind a different meaning here. Another planet, absurd as the explanation to him was. His expression turned from irritated to neutral and now to curious. "You are not of Earth? Terran is the word you would call us?"

The guess explained much: including Garak's monstrous appearance. He was not cursed or a creature from the underworld but a man not unlike him. Well, Nasir recalled the sentiments Garak had expressed, he was unlike him.